#i only did this in crayon because i had one of those crayon suitcase things available to me LOL but im actually REALLY happy that i did

[ollylotl]

ashe winters, angel of isolation

[cutielando]

stand up | r.c.

synopsis: in which you stand up for yourself

my masterlist

Ever since you were little, your parents had always been fighting.

You would wake up to fighting, you would spend your days in constant fighting, you would go to sleep listening to your parents fight.

Oftentimes, the reasons were absurd. They had become like two small children fighting over crayons.

One day, your mother had decided that she had apparently had enough and left you and your father, saying that she couldn't keep living like that.

Leaving you alone with your father.

Everything was okay for the first few months, you both kept your distance from one another and barely talked when you were home. 

However, then came the hard times. 

The slaps, the punches, the insults, kicking you out of the house was the latest of them all.

You had gotten into an argument over something completely stupid and your father, having been drunk, yelled at you to gather all of your things and get out of his house because he never wanted to see you again, claiming you reminded him too much of the wife that left him.

You had initially called your mother, asking her if she could help you in any way. She, of course, refused to do so, claiming that she was busy and didn't have time for this.

The only other person you could of calling was Rafe, your boyfriend.

You and Rafe had been together for nearly 3 years now, so he knew all of your family problems and did his best to help you through them.

Due to the fact that you knew he also had problems at home, you tried as best as possible to not burden him any longer.

However, this was one of those moments when you just needed him.

Taking out your phone, you quickly dialed his number, him answering after the first 2 rings.

"Hey baby, what's up?" hearing his sweet voice nearly made you cry on the spot.

"Can I sleep at your house tonight? I had a fight with my father and I just don't want to be home right now" you knew lying was bad, especially to Rafe, but you didn't want to tell him the news over the phone in fear that he would come and fight your father.

It was the last thing any of you needed.

"Yes, sure. Do you want me to pick you up? It's pretty late and I don't want you walking alone in the night" his concern only made your heart flutter, realizing just how lucky you were to have someone like him by your side.

"No, it's okay. I'll take my car. I'll see you in a bit. I love you"

"I love you too" you waited for him to say before you hung up, the tears now freely running down your cheeks.

The drive to the Cameron estate was fairly quick, seeing as you didn't like that far away from them. 

The lights were on in Rafe's room by the time you entered and he was laying on the bed, watching some movie on his TV.

"Hey babe- woah, what happened to you?" his gaze immediately turned concerned once he saw that your cheeks were coated with fresh tears and you had a huge suitcase behind you.

You didn't say anything before running into his outstretched arms, savoring the warmth radiating from his body.

You cried and sobbed until you had no more tears left, Rafe cradling your head in his hands, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and rubbing his hands up and down your sides and your back in a soothing manner.

Once you had finally calmed down, you pulled away from his chest but kept your arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He smiled at you and reached up to wipe the tears from your cheeks, giving you a kiss on both of them.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" his voice was soft, almost as if he feared that he would scare you away if he was any louder than that.

"Um, he, uh, he kicked me out" you mumbled, sensing the way his muscles tensed up under your touch.

"What?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm because he didn't want to overwhelm you even more.

"We had a pretty bad argument and he was really drunk, so all of a sudden he just started yelling at me and told me to pack my things and get out and never come back. I called my mom to ask her for help but she said she was busy and she didn't have time for me and then I needed you so that's why I called" you started rambling, your breaths getting quicker and more raggedy with each word you spoke.

"Hey, hey, sh. It's okay, you're here with me and you're safe. Take some deep breaths for me, baby" he spoke as he held your face in his hands and helped you get your breathing back to normal, keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but do you mind if I stay here for a couple of days until I figure things out? I really don't have anywhere else to go" your voice was timid, you really didn't to overstep even though you knew both his family and he loved having you around the house.

"Of course you can stay here. You're going to be living with me permanently from now on, that's final. I was planning on suggesting moving in together soon anyway, this is just an opportunity for it happen right now" he stroked your cheek with his thumb, smiling before leaning to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you so much, baby" you whispered, savoring the feeling of his lips pressed against your forehead.

"Do you have all of your things with you?" he asked while looking at the suitcase you had brought with you, a suitcase which seemed way too small to convey all of your belongings.

"No, I just grabbed the essential, everything else is still back home. Do you mind coming with me tomorrow to take everything? I really don't want to go back there alone"

"Of course I'll come, don't even question that. For now, let's just get you in bed so you can get some sleep and make you feel better.

You nodded and followed his suit, falling asleep quickly in the arms of your boyfriend.

When the next day came, you figured you would go over there in the morning to avoid your father being awake, knowing how long it takes him to recover from hangovers.

Everything was going smoothly, you had packed every last possession of yours and had almost finished bringing everything to Rafe's car when your father decided to rise from the dead.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted after you, making you free.

You slowly turned around, watching him standing in the doorway of the entrance door with a beer bottle in his hand.

Rafe was watching you closely, choosing to let you handle the situation by yourself. You could feel your blood boiling and the anger surging through your entire body.

"I'm doing exactly what you told me to. I'm taking my shit and moving out, just like you asked last night" you said, glaring at him.

"And where are you gonna go, huh? Back to this bitch's mansion? You know you're not worthy of him or anything else, you're gonna be crawling back here soon enough" your father laughed while saying, taking a swig out of his bottle.

"I am sick of being your punching bag. I have put up with your insults and punches and everything since mom left but I can't fucking stand you anymore. Just because you're an excuse of a man and mom got so sick of you she couldn't even stand being around you doesn't mean you get to take it all out on me. I'm sick of your shit and I won't take it anymore" you yelled, tears flowing down your cheeks.

Your father was just staring at you, his brain not being able to comprehend what just happened.

Sensing it would be best if you left, Rafe came up behind you and wrapped one of his arms around your waist, slowly dragging you back towards the passenger seat of his car.

“Come on princess, let’s just go” he whispered as he was helping you climb into his truck, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he shut the door and started jogging to the driver’s side.

You kept your gaze on your father the entire time before Rafe departed from your house, your gaze icy and piercing as never before.

“I can’t believe I just did that” you said quietly once Rafe had parked his car in front of your new home.

“I’m so proud of you for standing up to him like that, sweetheart. I love you so much” he leaned over the console and took your chin in his hand, giving you a meaningful kiss full of love.

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[actual-greenninja]

DEMON SLAYER HEADCANONS except it's stupid things I've done as a child

Basically what the title says, this is a little chaotic and it made me realise that I was a seriously weird kid😭 repost cause smth went wrong!!

-------------------------~★★★~-------------------------

🩷 Zenitsu once saw an open chocolate bar on the table and decided to take a small bit out of it. He then realised that it was one of those nasty yogurt health bars, he threw up afterwards

(he blamed the missing bite on inosuke afterwards).

🩷 Mitsuri was sort of a pick me as she would say things like "Only guys get my humour" or "Guys are much less drama" just so she could get more guys attention...

🩷 Inosuke ran into a road filled with driving cars when he was two, his care taker had to run and beg cars to stop driving so he could get hold of inosuke. Inosuke was somehow unharmed.

🩷 Sanemi once got so angry at Genya when they were younger that Sanemi took Genya's tablet and punched the screen so hard until it broke.

🩷 Genya thoroughly enjoyed eating lip balm, he still to this day will have a habit of licking his lips immediately after applying some

🩷 Muichirou was terrified of FNAF and Yuichirou would often hide in his closet at night and would jump out at him like that one foxy jumpscare😭. Muichirou did not feel safe at night afterwards...

🩷 Obanai was scared shitless of cats when he was younger and once when he saw a cat on the sidewalk he was walking on he ran into the road screaming to the other side of the road to get away from it.

🩷 Nezuko refuses to sleep at night unless it is with all of her toys, even those small plastic ones because she feared they would all feel left out and stop liking her which made her sad :(

🩷 Tanjiro had a similar problem but with his crayons. He would make sure to use all of them in a picture when he was younger so each crayon felt good abou themselves, even the white one😭

🩷 Uzui once saw a cute girl that was waaaaay too old for him at a gathering his parents brought him to. (He was 5 she was 16). He spent the whole night trying to look cool Infront of her and when it was time to go he fully believed they were gonna get married...

It took him 20 years to realize that he was at a family gathering and that the girl was his distant cousin whom he never saw again

🩷 Giyuu got in trouble often because he would always doodle over his work in school.

🩷 Once Genya made a small house in Minecraft that he was extremely proud of. Sanemi then got onto Minecraft and made a whole fucking castle just so he could put Genya in his place.

🩷 Akaza spent many of his days in class imagining how if there was an ambush of big men attacking the classroom he would go super saiyan and be able to take them all on in hand to hand combat. He was five.

🩷 Shinobu had a Gacha channel where she made those "doing your dares" videos with her oc's. She even had her own edgy boyfriend oc for her oc.

🩷 Muichirou for some reason memorised the whole Cat In the Hat movie script and would take videos of himself saying it word for word.

🩷 Rengoku helped a little girl go down a slide because it was obvious that she was scared. After that she then followed Rengoku everywhere until her dad took her home <3

🩷 Shinobu was caught watching gay ship amvs of her favourite cartoon on her tablet by Kanae. She cried the whole day, begging Kanae not to get her in trouble.

🩷 When Genya was little there was this small bowl and spoon that they would dish sugar out of. Genya would take that spoonful of sugar and eat it secretly. He was immediately caught because the spoon would be wet from his drool💀

🩷 Shinobu once got so pissed at kanae she " ran away from home" with a little suitcase filled with clothes. She really just went to the backyard where she sat down in the cold and finally went back in when Kanae called for dinner.

🩷 At night Inosuke would act all crazy and insane before bed so the " demons under his bed" knew that he was on their side💀

🩷 Giyuu was told by his sister that "God can make anything happen" in an uplifting way but instead it made Giyuu paranoid that a tsunami would come out of no where just to spite him for being naughty.

🩷 Sanemi purposefully stepped on a jelly fish at the beach and somehow didn't get stung...(im so sorry)

-------------------------~★★★~-------------------------

Yeah lol, that's it. I never realized I was a pretty odd felow

[nobody-wants-ice-cream]

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 7, The Day That Was.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Extra Ordinary

Man on the Moon

Number Five

The Day That Wasn’t

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

I would also like to add that normally you wouldn’t watch a show this way. I am purposefully looking for mistakes, easter eggs, and other things that we’re not supposed to notice. I am watching not with the goal of entertainment, but for analysis. So most of the things that I sin, I am seeing for the first time.

Also, no I can’t do better. I am in no way qualified to give this level of criticism about anything.

[Look out for the fic challenge at the end! I’m tagging @tehmoonofficial @seven-misfits @princenewton @tua-koffee and anyone else who wants to try it. Tag other people if you would like!]

The Day That Was

The use of “One is the Loneliest Number” by Three Dog Night implies that this is Luther’s birth. I know that that isn’t what they’re trying to convey so this is a very weird song choice. It would be way too on the nose if it was Luther, but it would fit so well. In fact, before Pogo said that it was the culmination of a normal pregnancy, I thought it was Luther when I was first watchin it.Point is, scoring is important. +1

No one is attending to this mother which is why she dies. Seriously, if just one person in that room was with Harold’s mother then any problems would have been noticed far earlier. I know this show likes to kill off women to further the plot, but this one happens to be excessively stupid. +2

There’s a woman in scrubs who doesn’t appear to be sterile in the room. Even Harold’s father is sterile. For those who don’t know, I’m talking about a lack of germs. +1

Harold playing with the Umbrella Academy action figures is adorable and makes sense. However, why the hell would his abusive father buy these for him? Something doesn’t add up. Where did he get these from? Did he steal them? In that case, stealing is bad. Sin still stands. +1

Dr. Terminal better appear in season 2. -1

Ben’s action figure includes the horror. This makes sense, but then how did Ben pose for this? Did he just sort of stand like that and let the sculptor take liberties with what the horror looked like? How were these modeled and designed? +1

“Put those stupid dolls away and go get me a beer” obvious abusive father is obvious. +7

Also, abusive fathers. +7

I didn’t notice that Harold’s house is the same as Leonard’s house when I first watched it because of the change in angle and lighting. This is clever. -1

Has anyone taken a good look at the Klaus action figure? That thing looks ridiculous! +1

Harold stops to look at a comic now and not later when his Dad isn’t demanding a beer. Then again, I am questioning the logic skills of a thirteen-year-old. So this sin is once again for the abusive dick for for not letting Harold be a child. +1

Seriously, where did Harold get all this stuff? Merch is expensive. And so are suit jackets. And tape. And a whole bunch of his supplies. +1

Seance seems pretty popular. Good. I love Klaus. But there is no indication that he did anything during missions, so why do these people love him? Show me his charisma or something? Give young Klaus a scene that shows why the people love him. +1

Are these barriers only there after missions? And if this is normal enough that there are barriers, then why aren’t there more people hounding the academy when Five runs away for example? How famous are these kids? +1

Harold you poor child. He even packed a bag and everything. Reggie is not better than your abusive father. Sin for Harold’s father and for Reggie. +2

No one stops Harold from jumping over the barrier. Not even the other fans saying something like “dude don’t do that”. Nothing. Who is enforcing these barriers? +1

Luther walked out of the car first and now he’s behind Allison. Since when does Luther have Five’s power?+1

Allison looks really uncomfortable. How many grabby fans has this young girl had to deal with? +1

Eden Cupid plays this really well. -1

How many grabby fans has Eden Cupid had to deal with?? +1

Reggie orders Harold behind the barricades. So is it Reggie enforcing it? Or what? +1

If it’s the academy enforcing it through Reggies orders then why didn’t Diego, Klaus, or Ben stop Harold? Or does this not matter because Luther was in front of them? This is confusing. Where is everybody? +1

Reggie is a dick. “You have no power”. Is that really the best way to deal with the situation? A better man may have said something like “You may not have powers but that doesn’t mean you aren't special. Run along now.” But then again, this is the same dick that drugged his daughter because he couldn’t control her powers so yeah. Fuck you, Reggie. +3

In the wide shot, Harold’s suitcase disappeared and some policemen magically appeared out of thin air. +1

Why are all these people laughing at Harold? After what Reggie just said there should be outrage? What the hell, people? +1

Some of these people include grown ass adults. +1

Reggie manhandles Harold and no one questions this. +1

Second hand embarrassment and shame. I really feel for this kid. -1

Where are the little umbrella mounts that the action figures are supposed to be standing on in this establishing shot of Harold’s collection? We see them on the collection in the academy. Is this supposed to imply that Harold stole them? I am confused. +1

We can see a piece of paper that has the words Klaus and Harold written on it in different colored crayon. Set designers, you win this one. -1

Why are the action figures going by their names instead of their hero names? It’s been established based on the posters the people had behind the barricades that “The Seance” and “Spaceboy” exist. So why the real names? If it’s because Harold is desperate for friends then the sin also applies. +1

In a close shot we can see that Harold must have taken those platforms off and glued them to this construction paper based on a weird deformity on Five’s foot. Sin still stands because Harold ruined those. In fact, I’ll add another sin, because this doesn’t explain how he separated them. If it was an exacto knife then sin for letting a child handle that. +1

Harold makes collages of the academy kids faces. Cute and a good set design choice. -1

You can see the moment when Harold decides to kill his father. That is some great acting, Jesse Noah Gruman. -1

You know, for all we rag on Harold for killing his abusive father, there are a surprising amount of fics in which the Hargreeves siblings kill their abusive father. Either we’re cool with killing abusive fathers or we aren’t, fandom. +1

Speaking of, we often use “cool motive, still murder” to describe this scene. But no one has a problem with the amount of people Five killed. +1

Harold got twelve years in jail even though there were signs of abuse. He had a bruise on his face! Any lawyer should have been able to get Harold out of jail. Even a public defender can’t deny this evidence. Harold should have pled guilty and he would have gotten a lighter, if no sentence at all. [I am not a lawyer, do not take this as legal advice. This is based on various crime shows and some law youtube channels. Also, don’t kill people.] +1

Why was Harold following Klaus? Popular theories include wanting to kill him or use him the way he uses Vanya. I am sinning this because it remains unclear. +1

The Leonard/Harold reveal is beautifully executed. This is how you do a plot twist. -1

Reggie refers to Klaus by name and by 00.04 in his journal. Why the inconsistency? If you know his name, why not use it all the time, Reggie? +1

In 2001, the kids were twelve. Reggie locked Klaus in the mausoleum as young as 12 and probably younger if the credit for 8 year old Klaus is anything to go by. +4

Reggie’s notes say that Klaus is resistant to this. No fucking shit, a child is resistant to facing their greatest fears with no support. +4

Title screen is on the umbrella in Reggie’s journal. Classy. -1

Five tosses Allison’s coffee behind him when he’s done with it. This goes back to his Apocalypse days, but you would think that sort of thing was frowned upon in the Commission. Or was really obvious during any missions he had as an assassin. Why is he doing this? +1

At the end of episode 6, Five slurps the coffee but here there is no slurp after “Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?”. +1

Leonard hears Five saying that he [Harold] is responsible for the apocalypse. This does not alarm Leonard in any way and he continues stealing Hargreeves’s action figure. +1

Also, Harold Jenkins happens to be in the academy right now as they’re talking about trying to find him. Choke on that irony. +1

Repeat scene shows no indication that the information Harold just got changed his reactions in any way. You would think that he would show a little fear or something? +1

Five isn’t treating his injury despite the fact that it’s causing him obvious pain and he has access to Grace and an infirmary because plot? They could easily have this chat in the infirmary while Five is getting stitched up. Five has been shown treating his injuries and does seem to possess more than half a brain cell, so not taking care of the shrapnel wound is a weird deviation in his character. +3

Speaking of brain cells, thank goodness Allison has one because she is the one asking relevant questions here. -1

Klaus and Diego are still pissed at Five for getting drunk while Hazel and Cha Cha attacked the mansion. Good job with the consistency in character motivation, writers. -1

“Temps Commission.” Maybe season 2 will give us the Temps Aeternalis. +1

Aidan Gallagher’s delivery is okay, but not stellar. I think it’s the tone that’s off. I think I’m judging him too harshly. This is hard to deliver because it’s an exposition dump seven out of ten episodes in. So this sin goes to the writers for making these paragraphs- not lines, paragraphs- that deliver information the viewer already knows. At this point, cut the scene short or show Vanya and Leonard again so we can skip the second Commission lecture. +1

And the reactions that Diego, Allison, and Luther have are so varied because they have such different levels of understanding. Allison, who knows the least, asks “What do you mean, protect time and space?” This level of info dumping this late is dumb. +1

“I look like a thirteen year old boy.” No you don’t. Real thirteen year olds do not look like fifteen year old Aidan Gallagher. For example, look up what Gallagher looked like when he was actually thirteen. +1

“Klaus talks to the dead” oh so we’re just stating the obvious now. Who wrote this scene? +1

How does Five know Claire’s name? Just one shot of a magazine in his apocalypse bunker was all we needed. The magazine that says Patrick and Claire are doing just fine without Allison would have made perfect sense. +1

If we don’t get Five and Claire meeting at some point istg. Sin until they meet.+1

Once again, Luther the moon and the apocalypse are connected, just not in the way you think. Reggie, you suck. +1

“Klaus you’re with me.” Diego and Klaus make a great team. -1

Five’s face when Klaus says he’s feeling under the weather. Considering Five’s injury, this makes sense for the character. -1

Five gives that look to Klaus. Five, you’re hiding a life threatening wound for no reason. You don’t have room to judge. +1

The old man walk looks ridiculous. Five is so obviously injured and Allison and Luther, who watch as Klaus, Diego, and Five walk away, don’t notice this odd walk. +1

We follow Hazel instead of Cha Cha because their story in this episode isn’t affected by Five’s time travel decision. However, the only part of this story we need is the part at the end of the episode. +1

Diego is driving, Five has shotgun, and Allison is in the back. They totally fought over who would sit where. That scene would have been way more interesting than the Hazel and Cha Cha repeat scene. Also, I kind of want to write about that fight now. You know Five wanted to drive. And that when Diego insisted on driving so he and Allison wouldn’t get in trouble for letting a minor drive or something like that, Allison and Five fought over the passenger's side seat. Well adjusted or not, fighting over that seat is what siblings do. +1

Allison, you could just waltz in there and ask for it. Don’t suggest that plan if you aren’t going to do that. +1

Five’s power or Allison’s power would be very useful, yet Diego choses to get the file himself. This wastes valuable time. And Five is okay with that. +1

Five refers to his powers as “blink” not “jump” which is what the fandom has been calling it. +1

Five has not slept at all in a couple days. And he’s making decisions about the end of the world. +1

Diego “made a call. That’s what a leader does.” But the call he makes is fucking stupid. This is a grab the thing and get out mission. Two people in the academy have powers that would work wonderfully for this type of mission. And they happen to be right there. Even with Allison refusing to use her power, it’s stupid to not have Five just blink in and grab it. Diego is a shitty leader. +1

Beeman just tells Diego that he is the prime suspect in Patch’s murder. This is so dumb on so many levels. Sigh. +1

Beeman has already said shit that would make him lose his job. At this point he’s arguing with Diego to pad the episode’s run time. +1

Whoever did Emmy Raver-Lampman’s makeup for this scene screwed up her brows really bad. Or maybe just her brow highlight is messed up. Or the blending on her eyeshadow. +1

Five is just sort of standing there and leaning against the wall. This is supposed to be another hint that he’s injured but it just looks stupid. +1

Allison’s heartfelt message to Vanya shows remorse and a genuine want for connection. -1

See! This cut where Allison doesn’t explain to Five and Diego who Leonard is because the viewer already knows and this can therefore happen off screen is good! Use this more if you’re going to do episodes like this. -1

Luther turns to alcohol because he doesn’t feel like he has any support. I’m sad now. Poor Luther! -1

And my sympathy disappears when Luther starts choking Klaus. That is some fucking bullshit. +1

I understand that Luther is drunk and not capable of complex decisions right now, but this seems excessively cruel. I think this is on the writers and not necessarily on Luther himself. +1

Why isn’t Ben seeing this? Later on, it’s like Ben didn’t see what Luther did here. This sin makes more sense later on in the episode. +1

Klaus is genuinely trying to make Luther feel better after Luther just choked him. Klaus is a good brother. -1

Klaus suggests going to find Allison. It’s like he knows what happened last episode. Oh, show. And yes, you can argue that Klaus knows that Luther and Allison were close. Then my counter argument would be that Klaus knows Allison is off saving the world. Yes, helping Luther is important, but Klaus can do it. Klaus needs more faith in himself. +1

Luther’s smile when Klaus calls him Number One and starts quoting poetry at him. “O captain, my captain.” -1

This immediately transitions into crying. My poor babies. +1

Klaus attempts to say “that’s not true” but can’t because he knows that Reggie is the type of person to send someone to the moon so he doesn’t have to look at them. Reggie is a dick. +7

Luther looks so lost and broken and sad. Tom Hopper, you asshole. I am actually crying a little bit. I’ll take a sin off because Tom Hopper made me feel emotions. -1

Robert Sheehan is an excellent actor. -1

Luther shoves Klaus out of the way with no regard to where he lands. What if Klaus’s head hit that furniture! +1

The Hazel and Cha Cha scenes would have been stronger if we left them in the last episode. Maybe one or two establishing things to show that they aren't affected by the time change and that’s it. All we needed was the order to not terminate Five and one of the messages. That’s it. +1

Hazel has a birdwatching book which shows that he wants to learn about Agnes’s interests. Cute. -1

They are trying to imply some kind of relationship between Hazel and Cha Cha! Cha Cha having feelings for Hazel doesn’t make sense. +1

“So do most serial killers and mass murderers. I mean look at him” “Thanks.” The delivery of “thanks” always bothered me. It could have used a little more sarcasm. +1

Diego doesn’t wait for Allison or Five to open the door. Nor does he let them offer suggestions. +1

Diego doesn’t even test the doorknob. Dumbass. +1

Diego seems like one of the competent siblings until he does this mission with Five and Allison, who have the family brain cells. This is amusing, but also makes me question the badass Diego moments. +1

If we don’t get more Five and Allison in season 2 imma riot. These characters work so well together. +1 

The way they make fun of Diego together is peak sibling culture. -1

“You need to see this.” Please just stop giving Allison these bullshit lines. +1

Five’s run is weird. He’s lifting his knees really high. This is one of those things that I shouldn’t have noticed. +1

Bottom left poster. Klaus hit the woah sixteen years too early. +1

Harold had time to scratch their faces before going to jail or Leonard did this at some point as an adult. Creep. +1

He also mangled the action figures even further. +1

Five isn’t looking so hot because the plot demands it right now. He was perfectly fine cracking jokes with Allison earlier. +1

Looking closer at the wound, we can see that Five not taking care of it right away is total fucking bullshit. That looks serious and like it could get infected easily. Five, who grew up in an apocalypse, would know to take care of shit like that. If he didn’t then he would have died in the Apocalypse.+1

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Diego would be excellent at cinema sins. +1

Five doesn’t answer this question because the answer is “The writers needed a convenient way to get me out of the picture for a couple hours.” +1

Harold’s father took him fishing. I don’t want to know why. +1

“We don’t have to stay here. We can just get a shitty motel or something.” Or ya know, go back to your apartment, Vanya. Or is Vanya’s apartment like Five’s injury in that it only exists when the plot needs it. +1

Off topic, but why is Vanya talking about chord progressions with her beginner violin student. Chords and violin don’t go together when you first start learning. This is a weird example. +1

Leonard is a manipulative bastard. He knows exactly what to say to make Vanya bend to his will. +1

We aren’t even halfway through the episode and I have been doing this for over two hours. This says a lot about the kinds of sins this episode has. Right now we’re at the end of page 6. +1

Vanya followed Leonard to a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere. They’ve known each other for less than a week. I wouldn’t trust some of the people I’ve known for years the way Vanya trusts Leonard. +1

Hazel has known Agnes for less than a week and now he wants to run away with her. +1

Agnes is willing to run away with Hazel despite knowing him for less than a week. +1

Hazel and Agnes are using the “Life is short” thing, which it is, especially with the impending apocalypse, but that doesn’t change that they’ve known each other for less than a week. +1

“Her job’s her life.” so why don’t you show that, show? Cha Cha’s motivations make no sense. +1

Hazel and Agnes theme! I love that piece. -1

The way Hazel is holding her looks really funny. I am amused. -1

Ben pressuring Klaus to help Luther despite all the physical harm Luther did to Klaus. I am sinning this again. Why didn’t Ben see this? Or does he just not care? This is either a sin for the show for not remembering where Ben is or a sin for Ben for not caring about his brother. +1

Ben creates a shadow but he is supposed to be invisible. I don’t think that’s how light works. Is Klaus the only person that can see Ben’s shadow? Is Klaus sober enough that he’s starting to make Ben corporeal? How does this work? +1

Right now if anyone looked in that alley, Klaus would look fucking crazy. +1

The guy walking past doesn’t care that Klaus is talking to nobody right now. +1

“You weren't ready to die violently at a young age” yeah. Seventeen, based on the portraits. Why does Ben’s ghost not look bloody? And why does he look like he’s in his late 20s? Ben should still look seventeen right? If Justin Min, age 29, is meant to be playing a 17 year old, then I have some issues. +1

Can Ben sweat? +1

The “if you were in trouble” line is delivered really well. Nice. -1

Ben’s tough love is more of a pep talk now. I like this version of Ben. He’s a little misguided, but he sort of gets the spirit. Heh spirit, Ben, get it? -1

“We should have taken him to the hospital” Allison would be excellent at cinema sins. +1

“We gotta get the shrapnel out.” Yeah, but that is not priority one right now. Is there any pressure on the wound right now? +1

This repeat scene with Diego and Grace makes sense because it’s at a different time. -1

“Seven bars, three strip joints, and a laundromat.” Why the laundromat? +1

Ben’s shadow is even more pronounced now. +1

Convenient rave girl talking to herself about Luther with a good description is convenient. +1

“Holy Shit” said in unison. Nice. -1

Ben and Klaus wouldn’t know about Luther’s monkey transformation, so the reaction checks out but not the description. Maybe “big” was why they decided to check it out? +1

Rave girl thinks Luther is a furry. This is funny. -1

Luther offers Klaus drugs. That’s nice, I guess. -1

Offering your newly sober brother drugs. +2

Ben is honestly a life coach from hell. “Stay strong don’t give into temptation.” Remember your mantras. Meditate. Drink lots of water. +1

Though, that does make sense. A dead guy would be a shitty life coach. +1

What’s with the weird light on the pill that Klaus threw? Is that a secondary power? Being able to find drugs? +1

No one steps on or trips on Klaus, who is crawling around on the floor in a room full of high/drunk/whatever people. +1

Klaus’s flashbacks. Putting my boy through trauma. +1

Dave turns into the pill because the pill symbolises everything holding Klaus back from summoning Dave. Symbolism. -1

Grace is treating Five’s shrapnel wound in his room instead of the infirmary. +1

“Receptionist at her music school” wait. Vanya has another job teaching music? She has three jobs? How in the hell did she have time to do any of this stuff? +1

Allison’s face when Diego says Luther was right. That was amazing. Emmy Raver-Lampman, you genius. -1

The City has no people around right now other than Diego, Allison, and the cops. +1

“Why would you ask that about me?” because you carry pointy things and throw them into people, Diego. That’s why Allison asks if the police are right about you murdering someone. +1

Allison would be excellent at cinema sins. She reiterated my last point. +1

Why did they send that many cops to go arrest one guy? Did they expect the entire academy to fight them? +1

“You killed a cop, asshole.” Rodriguez did the police academy teach you nothing? You can’t say shit like that to a suspect? +1

Finally, someone reads Diego his Miranda rights. Doing the bare minimum is impressive for these cops. +1

Diego, you edgy bastard. Spitting on the ground? Great. Make these people even more pissed off then they already are. +1

Vanya’s power is mostly destructive and Leonard should know this based on the book. So why is he trying to get her to summon a boat? Or destroy a boat? This doesn’t make any sense. +1

“I watched everything my brothers and sister could do ruin their lives.” The Umbrella Academy in a nutshell. +1

Also, if you saw this, then why the fuck did you want powers, Vanya? +1

“Do I stare really hard? Am I supposed to point my fingers?” Actual conversation Ellen Page had with the director somehow made it into the show. +1

This scene is so underrated. It’s so funny watching the music swell and nothing happen. -1

“I look and I feel ridiculous. I have no idea how they did this stuff with a straight face.” -1

“You are so invested in this.” Yeah, girl. Red flag. +1

Convenient burning not obscuring the words of the “terminate Hazel” message is convenient. +1

Do we really need the repeat of Cha Cha getting the message? +1

Cha Cha doesn’t notice Hazel behind the curtain despite being a trained assassin. This is why Five was the best. +1

Hazel doesn’t kill Cha Cha. +1

Netflix subtitles have Ben saying “Oh shit, Luther” when it’s clearly Klaus saying that line. +1

Klaus’s desire to help his brother is stronger than his need for drugs. -1

For whom the bell tolls? The bell tolls for Klaus. +1

Little Girl on a Bike God takes her lines directly from the comics. -1

She plays the pronoun game with Klaus despite Her being all knowing. Or She does this to be an asshole. +1

The barber shop looks like a little barn from the outside. Clever misdirection. -1

“Nite Owl Barber Shop” -1

“Barber banter may offend” no kidding. With Reggie working there, need I say more. -1

The pictures of Luther, Diego, Reggie, Dave, Five, and possibly young Ben on the wall. -1

Five’s hair looks really dumb in the photo aslkdj;gaf. -1

Artful close up shot of Robert Sheehan’s face. -1

Reggie is a dick. “What in God’s name took you so long?” Maybe he didn’t want to see you, asshole. +1

Was Colm Feore actually shaving Robert Sheehan? +1

I am going to sin Reggie being a dick in advance here so I don’t have to sin every line. +20

Klaus brings up an interesting point. How did Reggie know about the apocalypse? +1

Klaus is crying when Reggie says that he killed himself to bring them all back together. On some level, Klaus cares for this man. Empathy. -1

Just as Reggie starts to say something important, he disappears because of course he does. If the characters actually spoke to each other about important things then there would be no plot. +1

Klaus was dead and now he’s not. Why didn’t he wake up in the apocalypse? +1

Kenny’s mom sighting. She’s at the rave. +1

Leonard pays these guys to beat him up. Did he also give them a script? +1

Vanya’s powers activate when the rain starts but only become visible when she fears for Leonard’s life. Good choice. -1

Hazel doesn’t kill Cha Cha. Killing her would help him out in so many ways, yet he doesn’t do it. Or remove his tracker. Or her tracker. Or anything. +1

“I’m in love” You’ve known her for a couple days at best. +1

“Wake up and smell the coffee.” This is part of the reason why I headcanon Five’s coffee addiction came from the Commission. +1

Hazel can’t bring himself to kill Cha Cha after she threatens him and the woman he “loves” because of years of friendship in a job he hated? That she loved? I’m confused. +1

Allison is going after Vanya alone. She is going to this cabin in the woods alone. Horror Movie 101, Allison. +1

Now Ben looks concerned. All it took was Klaus’s literal death. +1

Luther and the rave girl are both too high to consent? I don’t like the vibes. +1

Diego is in jail because of his own stupidity. +1

The police didn’t give him back his sling. The man is walking around with a gunshot wound, assholes. +1

The shot of the eye before the camera focuses on Five symbolizes Five putting the apocalypse before everything. -1

Vanya looks so scared in the hospital. Excellent acting. -1

The shot of the eye also reminds us that the eye exists at all which makes the eye reveal more dramatic. -1

Overall Review:

Okay, so if episode 5 is where the viewer truly learns what’s going on, then episode 7 is when everything truly comes together. All the loose plot threads fit themselves together in this episode. In fact, you could argue that the Leonard/Harold eye reveal is the most important reveal after the whole Vanya has powers reveal. The eye makes sense now. 

You know what? I challenge all the fic writers who read this to write a “watching the show” style fic, but only using this episode. Drop this episode on them in the middle of one of the early episodes and then have them try to stop the apocalypse based on it. Tag me when you’ve posted it and/or gift it to cherriesareneat on ao3. I will probably be writing my own version of this at some point. 

There are a ton of great moments in this episode. The important beats being the Harold/Leonard reveal, Five’s injury, Luther at the rave, Klaus’s death, Reggie’s reveal, Vanya’s powers reveal, and the eye reveal. These were mostly well executed with the exception being Five’s injury. 

Also, let me know if you prefer the long sins/short analysis style I’ve been trying out recently. 

Total: 152

Sentence: What is character motivation? Where am I? I am confused.

[flapperfromthefuture]

Huh. Greenland is in the news a lot lately, for reasons that would only seem normal in some horrifically overblown satire.

My dad sent me two articles yesterday that quoted residents of tiny Kulusuk, Greenland, a village on the eastern coast of the country.

  Most people in this world have never set foot in Greenland (including the orange sociopath who wants to buy it. With what, the money from the for-profit concentration camps?). But my dad and I have, somehow.

It feels like a dream. Those halcyon days of 2008. My dad and I took a graduation trip to Scandinavia in July. We’re big fans of universal healthcare and the Maelstrom ride at Epcot (RIP), so we figured we’d feel right at home.

We flew Icelandair to Reykjavik—a big comfy plane, I remember—and in the seat pocket was a brochure advertising day trips to different destinations, including Greenland. My dad and I had talked about how Greenland would be close enough to visit while we were in Iceland, but in a very vague and alien way, like how you know you’ll be closer to the sun when you visit Hawaii but you don’t really think about it until you have a sunburn the shade of a pink hibiscus flower, and even then, you’re not going to visit.

Greenland was like that. We knew it would be nearby, but didn’t have the first idea of how to get there, or any clue what we would find if we did.

But now, I held Greenland in my hands. And it was a picture of a smiling elderly woman in a kayak in the middle of beautiful blue water lit by the sun. Greenland looked warm, inviting, and reasonably priced.

Later, my dad would joke that the brochure should’ve had a little asterisk that said, “Sun not included.”

We booked the excursion after a few days of traveling around Iceland, during which the sun never set, I taught my dad the correct pronunciation of “Bjork,” and narrowly stopped him from buying a heavy wool sweater that a) he would never wear, b) would take up a good 80% of his suitcase and c) COST $800 IN AMERICAN MONEY.

I was very keen on steering Dad towards light, easily transportable souvenirs, like hats and figurines of elves, because I’m the one who had to carry his suitcase all over Scandinavia.

Because, you see, my dad had a hernia. He’d been cleared for the trip and was having surgery as soon as we got home, but he wasn’t allowed to lift anything heavy or walk for too long. Fortunately, Iceland is full of cute shops and cafés with plenty of places to sit down and relax and have some delicious skyr, so we were doing great.

My dad asked the woman at the front desk of our hotel what the weather would be like in Greenland. She said it would be same as Iceland, crisp but sunny and in the high 50s.

This was a lie.

Of course, if we had done any research at all (we didn’t have decent smartphones yet! So long ago!), we would’ve been able to better prepare ourselves, but instead we went to the one Thai restaurant in Iceland and imagined what Greenland would be like.

I assumed that where we’d be going would have a national park vibe—lots of picnic tables and slightly terrifying bathrooms but lovely vistas and well-marked places of interest. Definitely a vending machine or two, probably a little café with sandwiches and chips and maybe a fruit cup. I pictured a single stoplight that was always blinking.

Dad, on the other hand, pictured multiple stoplights, full service restaurants and gift shops. My dad loves a good gift shop.

We walked to the city airport from our hotel. I wore a hoodie, my purse and a wool hat that I’d purchased as a souvenir, while Dad had a windbreaker and not one, but two hats—one for fashion, one for function. We both wore jeans and regular sneakers that were best suited for walking on pavement that has no moisture on it whatsoever.

My dad had a hernia.

We packed a little bag of muffins from the hotel’s breakfast spread, just in case we needed a snack on the flight or the café in Greenland was running low.

Naturally, we ate all the muffins while waiting to board the flight. It was eight in the morning, and we weren’t getting back to Iceland until six or seven in the evening.

“It’ll be okay,” said Dad, brushing muffin crumbs off his windbreaker.

We were flying Iceland’s internal airline, Flugfelag, which will be my alias if I ever go into hiding. Our ride was a twin engine propellor with fifty-six seats. Not a lot of wiggle room. I had never flown in a propellor plane before, and mostly associated them with “Things that James Bond or Indiana Jones have jumped/been thrown out of.”

And the plane’s name? The Fokker 50. Thank you and good night.

We met our excursion guide, Captain Karl, who was Danish. We were the only Americans on our excursion—everyone else was Japanese or Chinese. The rest of the flight had been booked by a Russian tour group, and they looked ready to go, with massive parkas and winter boots.

Our flight attendant was too tall for our plane. She was at least six feet tall (and wearing heels!) with long blonde hair and giant blue eyes full of fear. Her shoulders hit every overhead bin whenever she wobbled down the aisle. She had to stoop down to give the safety announcement so she wouldn’t bang her head on the ceiling.

During the safety announcement, Dad nudged me and said, “In the event of a water landing, you have fifteen seconds to live.”

The flight was only ninety minutes, but the last thirty were turbulent with steep rollercoaster drops and ghostly footprints of glaciers that grew as we descended.

We glided over pitch black water and grayish green ice floes, and then landed . . . on something that felt less like a runway and more like driving through a puddle.

“Dad, there’s mud on the window,” I said, trying to understand what I was seeing. Mud doesn’t hit airplane windows, not unless the baggage handlers are having a mud fight.

“What?” said Dad, as mud and gravel splattered against our first view of Greenland from the ground.

“It’s a dirt runway.”

Dad said, “Oh, that’s different,” but told me later that he was thinking, “This is a more remote place than I thought.”

The runway was dirt because a cement runway would freeze and break apart. Oh, and because of the weather, flights only ran (to this airport at least, in 2008) between May and September.

We climbed down the plane’s stairs and were immediately hit with a blast of freezing air. It was sleeting, a mix of ice and rain that couldn’t make up its mind, but in the wind it was just substantial enough to pierce your skin.

And we had a hoodie and a windbreaker, respectively.

The Russians were all putting on their parkas.

“Uh-oh,” said Dad.

Kulusuk’s airport is one of Greenland’s minor airports, about the size of an elementary school library, but they had a gift shop that sold winter coats. What luck! Dad beckoned me to try one on.

“Nice and warm—and they look pretty sharp!”

“Dad, did you see the price tags on these?”

“No, but they can’t be that bad.”

“They’re 7,000 Danish krone.”

“I’m good with that!”

“Dad, these coats are one thousand dollars each.”

“. . . Never mind,” said Dad.

Freezing would be bad, but cheaper—and easier to explain to my mom.

Captain Karl gathered us around and said that it would be a forty-five minute walk to the village of Kulusuk. That . . . wasn’t going to work for us. We explained to Captain Karl that my dad had a hernia and rather than rightfully berate us for going to Greenland with a hernia that could rupture at any second, Captain Karl yelled something to a guy in Danish and the guy yelled something back.

“Hans will take you,” said Captain Karl. “He’s outside.”

“Does he work here?” asked Dad.

“No, he just . . . hangs around.”

We met Hans at his truck and he was more than happy to have company on the drive to the village. The dirt road took us past walls of snow and along cliff edges with no guardrails to spoil our view of the glaciers below. The truck had no seatbelts, so I basically did a full somersault in the back every time we took a hairpin curve.

This truck could have been built by a movie production designer who was really gunning for an Oscar. I could actually see the dirt suspended in the air and smell the rust that covered every exposed surface. A thousand cigarette butts were artfully strewn around, and the battery light blinked a dull red, like it had been ignored for a very long time and was in no rush to alert anyone.

Dad got the front seat, and he was eager to ask Hans about life in Greenland. Hans was Danish but his wife was a native Greenlander Inuit. He had lived there a long time, but couldn’t remember exactly how long.

The landscape ahead of us was grey, bleak, and unending. And it was July.

“How short do the days get in the winter?” asked Dad.

Hans said, “Oh, the days don’t get short at all! In January we get five and a half hours of daylight. That’s not short.”

He took a curve around a snowbank at least thirty feet high, and I did a cartwheel in the backseat.

Hans added, with aching sincerity, “If I had to live somewhere where it was dark all the time, I’d get really depressed.”

Upside down in the backseat, I thought, “Holy shit.”

Five and a half hours of daylight means eighteen and a half hours of darkness.

Past the snowbank, the clouds parted enough for us to see a glimpse of a graveyard, and crayon-colored huts in the distance.

This was Kulusuk, sixty miles south of the Arctic Circle.

Hans dropped us off at the supermarket, which was maybe a quarter the size of the average American drugstore. Still, they had everything you could possibly need—medicine, fishing gear, diapers, meat, rifles, clothes, even gumballs.

Most people in Greenland still hunt and fish to survive. There was some fruit on the shelves, but it was all long past fresh and very expensive.

We waited for Captain Karl and the rest of the group to arrive. The few people who trickled in and out of the store looked startled at the sight of strangers just standing around, poorly dressed, but then just went on with their shopping. We met another Danish tour guide who lived in the village, and the local police officer. My dad, a former cop himself, was eager to talk to him, but he only spoke the Inuit language. The Danish guide explained that he didn’t have a badge, or training, or really many duties—he got the job because he liked driving the police cart.

In 2008, Kulusuk had 310 people. Now it’s around 280.

Captain Karl collected us—he had a very reserved Danish manner but I’m pretty sure he was both relieved and shocked that we had survived the ride—and we joined the group down the road in a large red building that served as a community center. Just a short walk in the freezing rain and pounding wind was enough to soak us to the bone.

We watched a presentation led by an older Inuit woman in traditional clothing—she was Hans’ wife. Their very cute granddaughter demonstrated songs and dances while the woman told stories in Inuit—which Hans translated into Danish, so the guide for the Russian excursion could translate into Russian. Dad and I were out of luck, but the Russians seemed to enjoy it.

It was still a good show, though. The little girl posed for pictures with the tourists afterwards.

I wonder where she is now. What she thinks of all that is happening in her country. What she remembers about dancing for tour groups and posing for pictures.

Our next stop was a small grey hut—finally, a gift shop. The owner of the gift shop was a woman from Iceland who was married to a Danish hunting guide, so she spent half the year in Greenland and half the year in Iceland.

Dad told her, “You should spend half the year in Hawaii!”

We picked up some keychains and postcards, but then I saw a glimmer in my dad’s eye—he’d seen something expensive. It was a grey winter jacket with a Kulusuk patch on the sleeve. My dad can’t resist a good patch.

“I would look so cool,” he said. “First person on our block to have a Kulusuk coat, that’s for sure!”

“This costs $1,800 in American money,” I said.

“But look at the patch.”

“Where would you wear this? You barely go outside in the winter.”

“I’ll wear it going back and forth to the mailbox!”

“You can’t pay eighteen hundred dollars for something you’ll wear for thirty seconds a day,” I said. “Mom will murder you.”

Dad grudgingly admitted defeat.

Next on the itinerary was a kayak demonstration—but the winds were 40 miles per hour, and the seas were too rough, so the demonstration was canceled. It was raining even harder now, so we were directed to a small church. We sat in a pew at the back and watched the Russians, huddled in their parkas, whip out open-face sandwiches and tiny bottles of vodka.

“Talk about being prepared for cold weather!” said Dad.

Captain Karl briefed us on our return to the airport. Next to the supermarket, there was a dock, with a metal ladder about ten feet long, that we would climb down to a flotilla of small boats that would take us to the airport in groups of three or four.

I am kicking myself eleven years later for not taking a picture of this ladder, but my dad and I have breathlessly described it so many times I can still see it perfectly.

This metal chain ladder was not connected to anything other than the very top of the dock. It wasn’t the kind of ladder that painters use—with a fixed structure that supports the rungs—but the kind of ladder you’d see on a treehouse, with metal chain loops between the rungs. So as you’re climbing down, you’re holding onto a slim metal chain that is moving with you—and the 40 mph winds—as opposed to steadying you as you descend.

The sea was so rough that if you lingered for longer than a few seconds on this ladder, you were going to get slammed with a wave of freezing water. You know, on top of the freezing rain that was dunking you from the sky.

So it goes without saying that everything in this scenario was soaked—the ladder, our shoes, and our hands. I hadn’t been able to feel my fingers and toes for about six hours at this point. There was no way I would be able to grasp and hold onto the ladder safely, and gripping with my mud-soaked, treadless sneakers that were made for power-walking around an air-conditioned mall? Not going to happen.

  We watched the first group descend the ladder, clinging on for dear life. Once they managed to throw themselves into the boat, it took off, spraying them with freezing water all the way back to the airport.

“Did you see the fear in that Chinese lady’s eyes?” said my dad later. “I think she wanted us to notify her next of kin. I was just imagining what would happen if my hernia burst.”

Oh yeah. That hernia.

Dad and I quickly assessed the situation, as another group threw themselves over the dock and into the boat.

The best case scenario would be to fall in the water and freeze to death in fifteen seconds.  Worst case scenario would be falling off the ladder, hitting the boat and breaking a limb or your back and then hitting the water and freezing to death in fifteen seconds.

And the last thing you would hear would be the laughter of the glaciers, mocking you for thinking you could conquer Greenland, which even the Vikings abandoned because it was too cold.

But the worst worst case scenario, for us, would be if Dad’s hernia burst (causing him to fall off the ladder, hit the boat, fall into the water and freeze to death in fifteen seconds).

“If my hernia bursts, they can’t rush me to Kulusuk General Hospital,” said Dad.

Kulusuk’s medical services, at least at that time, were provided by a single resident nurse. There were no highways to other towns—people traveled into the interior by snowmobile.

As Dad said later, “Maybe I could’ve been transported to another town by a Russian tourist, drinking vodka and driving a snowmobile for the first time. My only hope was they would rush me to the gift shop.”

I said, “We aren’t going on this ladder.”

We approached Captain Karl, who was really very patient with us considering the number of unprepared demanding Americans he must deal with on the regular, and he sent us over to a Danish guy, who took us to a garage near the grocery store, where he asked an Inuit guy with a pickup truck to take us to the airport.

Once again, we got in a stranger’s truck with no seatbelts—but we would’ve happily ridden in the truck’s bed clinging to the bumper just to avoid that ladder.

However, there were only two seats. So yours truly, an adult, had to sit on my dad’s lap for the entire ride. But I didn’t want to risk sitting on the hernia, so I sat kind of halfway on his knee and then held myself up as best I could by gripping the doorframe, with my head squashed against the window, so I wouldn’t bump my dad’s hernia.

The route back to the airport was just as wild as before, with icy hairpin turns and ditch-sized potholes, all of which our driver took with one hand on the wheel, because the other hand was holding his cell phone. He was talking to someone in Inuit the entire ride—probably telling them, “You won’t believe the idiots I have with me. Yes, they’re Americans.”

That long stretch of road along a sheer drop-off into the ocean was really exciting, and I only hit my head careening around the turns maybe six or seven times. I only lost a few piano lessons, nothing I’ll miss.

We made it to the airport, but the weather was getting worse. We met up with the rest of our group, who only knew us as the weird Americans who kept disappearing, and Captain Karl, who was worried that our plane wouldn’t be able to take off. There was another tour running that day, where after their time in Kulusuk, people were taking Russian helicopters to another town with a hotel.

Dad and I watched people board this Soviet-era helicopter that was struggling to stay upright in the freezing wind, and gulped. The years and the elements had not been kind to these helicopters.

“They look like someone sent them through a reverse car wash,” said Dad.

Years later, while watching Chernobyl, my dad recognized the helicopters that were flying in the clean-up crews.

“That’s the helicopter we saw in Greenland!” he said. “Am I glad we didn’t have to fly in one of those!”

Thankfully, our plane was able to take off. Our statuesque flight attendant knelt down to welcome us back. Captain Karl gave us lovely “Certificates of Achievement” with our names on them. He spelled my name as Elisabeth, which made me love it even more—I have it framed in a place of honor, next to a painting my dad made of the picture at the very top of this post.

As we sat down and buckled our seatbelts, Dad pulled a plastic bag out from under his windbreaker.

“You’ve had the muffin bag the entire time?”

“I shoved it under my shirt,” he said. “For warmth.”

On one of the hottest days this summer, locals in the tiny village of Kulusuk, Greenland, heard what sounded like an explosion. It turned out to be a soccer field’s worth of ice breaking off a glacier more than five miles away. Greenland lost 12.5 billion tons of ice to melting on August 2, the largest single-day loss in recorded history. NASA oceanographer Josh Willis: “Greenland has impacts all around the planet. There is enough ice in Greenland to raise the sea levels by 7.5 meters, that’s about 25 feet, that would be devastating to coastlines all around the planet. We are all connected by the same ocean.” —CNN

The climate crisis is causing unprecedented levels of stress and anxiety to people in Greenland who are struggling to reconcile the traumatic impact of global heating with their traditional way of life.The first ever national survey examining the human impact of the climate emergency shows that more than 90% of islanders interviewed fully accept that the climate crisis is happening, with a further 76% claiming to have personally experienced global heating in their daily lives, from coping with dangerous sea ice journeys to having sled dogs euthanized for economic reasons tied to shorter winters. — The Guardian

As a result of these climactic troubles, many Greenlanders are experiencing solostalgia, a term coined to describe the psychic pain of climate change, a feeling of missing home even without leaving, as home, the Earth, is changing. Courtney Howard, the board president of the Canadian Association of Physicians for the Environment, told the Guardian that Arctic people are now showing symptoms of anxiety, “ecological grief,” and even post-traumatic stress related to the effects of climate change. “The impact of climate change on mental health is a looming public health crisis,” she said. —Quartz

We knew eleven years ago that the climate was changing and that Greenland was melting. It’s 800,000 square miles and 80% is covered by an ice sheet that all of Greenlandic society and every city in the world that’s on a coastline depend on for survival, and it’s melting. My dad and I knew that before we went there, and we didn’t even know enough to bring decent shoes.

Dad just texted me, “I keep wondering what Kulusuk looks like now. This is pretty scary—has to be a wake up call.”

My dad is an eternal optimist, which allows him to do things like travel across the world with a hernia, but we’re long past a wake up call.

Dad and I Go to Greenland Huh. Greenland is in the news a lot lately, for reasons that would only seem normal in some horrifically overblown satire.

[shippingtheswann]

FOOLS RUSH IN:

Summary: Emma Swan has been married since she was five years old. Under the old oak tree, she wed Killian Jones, her neighbor. Then, he moved away, but made one final promise, that one day he would marry her for real. See what happens when he returns to make good on his promise.

Read Chapter One Here

Fools Rush in Chapter Two

Rating: E - there will be smut later on! Chapter warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of cancer. 

A/N: Thanks to @captainswanbigbang for once again organizing an amazing event. I've been missing Captain Swan for the past year, and having this has helped so much! Thanks to Lana @high-seas-swan and Kaitlyn @spartanguard for their beta help. Go check out Lana's story when you get a moment as well – it's amazing! Thanks to Rachel @ladyciaramiggles for the art she has provided which you can find here (link will be provided later) Also, thanks to Kris @sambethe for the cover art for the story and for beta hel ! All of you have made this story what it is! Enjoy Chapter Two - I really enjoy writing from Killian's POV! Also, thanks to all those who gave reviews! Keep them coming!

He took in a big long breath before hitting send on his computer. He was taking a huge chance on this message and he hoped that it wouldn't be wasted. Initially, he didn't want to even send the message, wanting to keep everything the same as it had been for years. But fate was a funny thing and he couldn't put it off much longer; also Liam, his older brother, wouldn't let him.

It was finally time to see Emma again after so many years.

Since he could remember, Killian Jones had been obsessed with Emma Swan. At first, when they were little, she really was just his best friend. They did everything together. Some of the boys made fun of him when they were four or five because his best friend was a girl, but he didn't care about that. Emma was more adventurous, more daring, and more fun than any of the boys he was in school or sports with. Plus, she lived next door, which meant he didn't have to go very far to find someone to play with him.

Emma's mother and his were best friends, too. In fact, he always felt like Emma's mother, Ingrid, was a second mom to him. He knew that if he couldn't talk to his mom, she would be there for him. So while he enjoyed her friendship, he also knew that in the end, they would have been forced to be friends.

Not only was Emma the best friend a kid could ask for, she was also his wife. He didn't remember exactly how or why it happened, but he was glad that it did. When they were five, out of the blue, he just asked Emma to marry him. He remembered saying something along the lines of wanting to be with his best friend forever, and marriage was forever. He could remember some moments when he would look at Emma and just smile. He knew that he didn't want to live in a world where Emma Swan didn't exist.

She wore a bright red dress that day, and he was dressed up in a nice shirt and little bow tie. He was pretty sure it happened to be picture day at school, too, as his mom had a photo of him with those cheesy backgrounds in the same outfit. She had a little crown of flowers that accented her wavy blonde hair perfectly. He was pretty sure that if he got up the courage to look through his mother's things that were stored at Liam's, he would find a picture of Emma that immortalized what she looked like that day. It was something he remembered growing up; his mom kept just as many pictures of Emma as she did of her own boys.

After their wedding, Killian gave Emma her very first kiss. Five year olds are weird in that they aren't quite sure what a kiss really means or could stand for. Also, it was very well known that at that age, girls carried cooties – or, as he was sure the girls of that day would say to Emma, that he carried them. He remembered their officiant; a little red headed boy named Archie that was in their class and whose father was a pastor, gave them cootie shots and told them that they could kiss. Most boys his age would steer clear of kissing a girl, but Killian wasn't like most boys his age. He went in for the kill. It was a very short kiss, a quick peck with both of their eyes squeezed shut in a mixture of concern and surprise. When he stepped back, Emma was blushing, staring down at her feet. Yet, there was a slight smile on her lips.

For the rest of the school year, things didn't change. He found it funny at the time, because his mom and dad used to say that marriage changed everything. Yet, he still played with Emma on a daily basis. She still beat him at soccer, and he still beat her at dodgeball. They still raced home after school and ate their afternoon snacks together in her treehouse. She still made fun of the way he spoke sometimes and he still made fun of her for the way her hair frizzed when it rained.

Nothing really changed. They were still Emma and Killian. They were still best friends.

However, while things with Emma and school were good, things at home weren't. He didn't quite understand what was going on at the time, but Liam was angry all the time, his dad would leave for days and when he was home, he was drunk, and his mom just seemed off. She tried to hide the drama away from Killian, but he knew something was wrong. Her eyes just didn't sparkle like they used to.

About a year after Killian and Emma got married, he was told they were going to be moving to Ireland. It was devastating. It was also rather quick. Their house didn't get packed up, their belongings stayed in their spots. All that was packed was their clothing, stuffed into suitcases and duffle bags. The next morning, they left for the airport. Killian knew Emma wanted to go with him – he didn't even have to ask, he just knew that she would follow him anywhere. And truthfully, he would do the same for her.

The night before, he even asked his mom if he could stay behind, and live with the Swans. Ingrid was Alice's best friend after all, and he liked Emma's father James way more than he liked his own father. His father never looked at him the way James looked at Emma. His father yelled at him constantly, whereas James spoke to Emma with kindness and patience. He wished he had a father like Emma's. But his mom said she would miss him too much and he needed to go with her.

Things were weird to say the least. He also asked his mom where his dad was, since they were leaving in such a hurry. She told him that is why they had to go. They had to go get their father from Ireland; they had to be a family again. He was so angry. It had been three weeks since his dad had gone away on business, and truthfully Killian didn't care if his dad came back or not.

But there he sat, next to Emma, with tears slowly streaming down her face. He didn't want to leave her. She had become so much more than a best friend to him. She was his rock, his anchor. She made him feel better when everything else sucked. He didn't think he would be able to deal with life if Emma wasn't there by his side. Who else would understand when he got angry over his mother crying? Who else would understand that he was self-conscious about his ears? Still, nothing he did, no matter how much he pleaded with his mom or Liam, they wouldn't let him stay with her.

They sat quietly at the airport. He didn't want to let go of her hand. He had held Emma's hand as long as he could remember. It was their thing. People used to say they were attached at the hip, but in reality, they were attached at the hands. When they would walk anywhere, it was hand in hand. It was just natural for them. He wanted to tell her so much, wanted to make her feel better, but the words never came. He wanted to make sure she understood he would come back one day, but he somehow knew he couldn't make that promise to her.

He could hear her screams as he boarded the plane. He had a window seat, but couldn't bear to look out the window, because if he even got a glimpse of a blonde haired girl, he wouldn't be able to hold it together. He was a mess on the inside. He just wanted to go home, and not Ireland.

Slept overtook him on the flight and once they arrived and settled into the two bedroom apartment in his mother's hometown, he fell into despair. He had promised Emma that he would write to her, and he wanted to write to her so badly, but there were no paper or pencils in the apartment - just a musty old twin bed in the master bedroom and a crappy, probably now unsafe, bunk bed in the other. There wasn't even furniture in the living room or a TV. They had to use their suitcases as plates to eat the food they got from the airport after they landed.

Over the next three weeks, things went from bad to worse. Their dad was in town and he did come by to see them, but he was drunk. He was rude and crass and Killian didn't want to spend another minute in the room with him. He ended up staying the night and the following day, when his mother emerged from the bedroom, his father nowhere in sight, he could see bruises on her skin. At that time, he thought that his father may be beating his mother, but he found out that it was much different later on.

He was finally able to write Emma when he started school. He kept his first letter short, since he was still practicing with writing and didn't do too well at it – he didn't have his best friend supporting him and encouraging him, after all. But he had Liam, who helped him. He didn't like that Killian mentioned that he was crying, but he didn't protest. Liam was good like that. He knew that if Killian wanted Emma to know that, then it was important.

When he was finished, he drew some pictures for her on the back, with the crayons he stole from the school. He knew stealing was wrong, but he also would do anything to see Emma smile and he knew his pictures would do that. They didn't have any crayons at home, so he had to take them. They were brand new - another kid had brought in a couple of boxes for the class, and Killian just took one and put it in his backpack. So he spent hours drawing those photos. He wanted Emma to really see that he was missing her.

He kept writing Emma through the drama that unfolded. A few weeks after his first letter went out, his mom came home from a doctor's appointment looking worse for the wear. She came into the boy's bedroom and sat down on their floor. By this time they had some toys and items to make the apartment seem homier, but he missed his room at his old house. From his room, he could see Emma's. He could watch her sneak out and race over to his house. He would know exactly when to meet her at the door to let her in. They would then lie in his bed together and listen to the crickets chirp.

She took a hold of his tiny hand and told him a long tale. She told him of a young knight who was scared of the world, but found solace in a princess. She told him that the princess would always be there for him, even if she was far away. She also told him that the knight had a family that he had to take care of first, and that the princess would understand. She told him that she loved him very much, and it was then that he noticed the tears in his mom's eyes.

"Ma, what's wrong?" he asked in a shy voice.

"Killy, I'm sick. I am going to try my hardest to get better, but I may not get any better. Do you understand?" she replied, large circles were clearly noticeable under her eyes.

"Kinda, why are you sick?" he had to know.

"I have cancer, my darling," she said back, pulling him closer. He knew what cancer meant. There was a boy in Emma and Killian's kindergarten class whose mother had cancer and passed away. Tears picked up in his eyes as the realization that his mom may die hit him.

"I promise, I am going to fight as hard as I can, and I need you to be strong while I try to get better, can you promise me that?" She looked into his eyes.

"I'll try, mama," he promised.

The next couple of months were rough. He saw his mother go through hell. He had been gone from Emma for almost a year. He hadn't told her that his mom had cancer. He didn't want to worry her. He knew how much Emma loved his mom. She claimed it was the accent – that Alice had an accent that could make everything wrong in the world just disappear when she told a story. But Killian knew it was more than that. Everything about his mother was good. Yet, all that good was slowly starting to disappear from her body. She got skinnier; her hair thinned out then completely fell out. And while she was bald, she was still beautiful in her son's eyes.

He saw her go from having a good appetite to barely being able to keep down soup. He watched as her strength to do simple activities, like walking around the park or sitting up in bed, diminished. He watched as the breath in her got shallow and hard.

But through it all, he stayed strong. He had to be strong.

Even though the cancer was bad, his father was worse. Right after his mom was diagnosed, right after she held Killian in her arms and told him the truth, after she held him while they both cried, afraid to say what may happen to her, his dad left for good. Killian and Liam sat in their room while their mom begged their father to stay. He heard his mom claim that she would lose the will to live if he left her. She said she couldn't beat this without him. She yelled that she needed him to be there for the kids if things got bad. Still, through all the begging and pleading, Brennan Jones took his leave.

He claimed that he didn't sign up for any of this. He claimed he still had living to do and he couldn't do that with a sick wife and two bratty kids. He said that she was holding him back. He said he regretted even being with her and them.

Liam was angry. He had never seen his brother get so upset. After Brennan walked away for good, Liam took the lamp from their dresser and threw it against the wall. He swore that Brennan would regret the day he hurt his mom and left them in the dust.

Still, with hell coming down around them, he never told Emma anything. He always tried to keep the letters bright and sunny. Not for his sake, but hers. But in one letter, he did let his emotions show just a bit.

It was a week or so after Brennan left them, that he wrote Emma the most personal letter. It was difficult for him to write, because he was only six and his vocabulary and pencil skills were poor, but he just had to tell her something. He spent days writing it out, making sure to spell each word correctly and making sure each word was written clearly. He wished he could show his mom, she would be so proud, but he knew the letter was too personal for that.

Emma,

I hope you are doing well. Your letters make me smile. I am going to move back to Storybrooke soon and when I do, I'm going to marry you for real. You are my best friend – forever! I promise I won't be like my dad and we won't get divorced like Regina's. I promise I will be your best friend forever.

Love, Killian

Looking back now though, he hates himself for that letter. Not because he didn't mean what he said; but because he didn't keep that promise to her. He turned out to be a pretty shitty best friend. When his mom finally passed away after a long battle, he couldn't find it in himself to send her anymore letters. He just wanted to hide from the world and cry over his mom. He was angry at everything. He was pissed at his dad for being the reason he had to leave Emma and his home. He was pissed that his dad up and left them to fight alone. He was pissed with God for giving his mom cancer and taking her away too soon. He was angry at Liam, because his older brother took custody of him and essentially became his parent instead of a brother.

He didn't want any of that anger exposed to Emma. He didn't want to involve her in his crappy life. He knew she was happy at home. He knew she had made new friends and was doing OK. He didn't want to ruin any of that. So, he stopped sending the letters.

But, he didn't stop writing them.

Whenever something bad would happen - whenever he was angry, upset, or emotional in any way - he would write to her. He would then place the letter in an envelope and seal it up. He stuck it in a box under his bed and they never saw the light of day again.

Throughout his life, he had kept up that act. Whenever something happened, Killian would get out a paper and pen and write to her. When he graduated from elementary school, when he got his first girlfriend, when he lost his virginity, when he graduated from high school and college, and almost everything in-between, he wrote to her. It was therapy for him. He knew that even if Emma couldn't physically be there, and even though she wasn't actually reading the letters, she would still be there for him, and she was in terms of those letters.

Of course, she was upset that he stopped writing to her. For a couple of weeks after his mom died, she sent him letters, begging him to write her back, begging him to come back. But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

For years, he wondered if he had done the right thing by not involving her, and he knew he did when she found him on MySpace during their sophomore year of high school.

It was a couple of months after her sweet sixteen when he got the friend request. It actually surprised him. He hadn't been a big MySpace user, but created the profile when Liam mentioned connecting with an old friend from the states. He had hoped that she would find him, or he would find her. But for months, he searched and searched and couldn't find a profile for her. Of course, it was possible that she just didn't have one, but it worried him that she didn't. He was also pretty sure that even if she did have a profile, she wouldn't want to be friends with someone who turned their back on the best thing that had ever happened to them.

He immediately friended her back, needing to see just what had been happening in Emma Swan's life. He spent what felt like hours just staring at her picture. He wondered how long it took her to choose that picture and where it was taken. She was standing in front of what looked like water, her hair flowing in the breeze. It was much longer than it was when they were little. Of course it would be, they had both grown up, but it still surprised him at how long and beautiful it actually was. It seemed brighter, too.

Her eyes were the same though - still bright with all of the joys of life. Sure, she had a gorgeous smile that could command everyone's attention, but it was her eyes that kept him there. They were really where her smile was coming from. He could just feel the joy that she had. While staring at the picture, Killian felt like no time passed at all. Plus, he was one lucky son of a bitch to have a wife as good looking as Emma.

He read through her profile, looked at every single picture she had, and memorized all of her favorite information. He was glad to see that their favorite movie was still listed. To that day, he had still dressed up as Westley anytime a costume party came up. It was his little homage to her.

She was into the more popular music, but he also knew that she could listen and enjoy almost any type of music. As long as it made her friends smile, Emma would listen to polka music.

Liam came home to find Killian still sitting at the computer, pouring himself over Emma's profile.

"Just message her, you prick; tell her you miss her," he commented, punching his brother in the shoulder before going to put away the food he picked up.

Liam got a job straight out of high school in order to take care of Killian, forgoing his dream of college for his younger brother. So Liam worked at a construction company nearby. It paid great money, and Liam was now the foreman at another company, so he was happy, and so was Killian. But, it still wasn't anything to brag about. He was a lanky loner in high school, with a dead mom, a runaway dad, a brother who was just a construction worker, and he was pretty sure he was going nowhere good in life. Why would she even want to talk to him? He was pretty sure she only friended him out of guilt or nostalgia.

"Maybe later," he said. And that became Killian's go to answer for the next decade.

It was always "maybe later". Maybe later, he would get the courage to reply back with more than a short sentence. Maybe later, he would get the courage to say something more than "happy birthday" or "merry Christmas". Maybe later, he would finally tell Emma that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her.

Liam was pretty sure that maybe later would have come sooner. Especially with Facebook. Yet, Killian was stuck in his little bubble, still thinking he wasn't good enough for Emma Swan.

When Killian graduated from college, he was finally able to do something good with his life: he joined the Navy. Thankfully, he was a dual citizen, and he was able to join the US Navy. So, between basic training, officer school, and pretty steady deployments, Killian didn't have the time to update his Facebook the way Emma did. But, her constant updates and photos kept him going during long deployments and obnoxious times.

She seemed to have the perfect life. She appeared to have friends that truly cared about her. She was so happy in all her pictures. Her smile radiated in each new one that appeared. He saw pictures of her playing sports, pictures of her and her friends at the mall and at the beach, pictures of them at formal events. There were even pictures of her with some guys, which didn't exactly make Killian happy, but he was happy she seemed happy.

Seeing her so happy made every bad thing that happened to him better.

The Navy had taken him all over the world. He had been to Japan, to Australia, to Iraq, and even to Antarctica. He didn't have a family, so anytime there was a chance to deploy, he took it. But he couldn't keep playing that card anymore. The Navy has a limit and Killian had reached it. It was time for him to stay in one place for a while.

Call it kismet, call it destiny, call it luck - but no matter what you call it, when it came time for Killian to choose orders, Storybrooke was the only option.

Liam had moved back to Storybrooke right after Killian went to college. He had missed Storybrooke almost as much as Killian did. Killian, being ten years younger than his brother, never really understood what Liam had to go through, but he knew he would be eternally grateful to his brother. Not only did he leave a life behind in when they moved, but a potential career, too.

Liam had been the star baseball player, and had been actively scouted for a few years. Any college was up for grabs. He had a wonderful girlfriend, who meant just as much to him as Emma did to his little brother. Yet, he gave it all up to be with his brother and mother.

He gave up college to take care of Killian. He sacrificed everything just so that his little brother could do sports, or go on a field trip, or even eat food some weeks. He was the father Killian never had.

But, in the years since Liam moved, Killian never truly visited Storybrooke. Something always came up. Liam could see through his bullshit though. It was simply because Emma was still in Storybrooke and Killian was still too scared to see her. Instead, he would visit a nearby town and Liam would come and visit him. Killian never ventured into Storybrooke.

While Storybrooke was big enough to house a Naval yard, it was still a pretty small community. It wasn't like San Diego or Norfolk, where the base was so large that you didn't even know your own neighbor. But it wasn't so small that you knew everyone. It was truly the perfect size town. But Killian knew that if he visited, he would run into Emma and he just wasn't ready for that.

Of course he wanted to see his best friend again, wanted to hold her in his arms, wanted to make sure she knew just how much being separated from her killed him. But he was ashamed. Ashamed at how quickly he hid from her, how quickly he let go of the most important friendship in the world just because he was embarrassed and scared.

But he couldn't hide anymore.

He had been in Storybrooke less than a week and he had already caught glimpses of her four times.

Each time, his heart stopped and he forgot what he was doing. He first spotted her as he was driving through town on his way in from the airport. He hadn't even been in town an hour and he already saw her. She was walking on Main Street with a couple, one with short black hair, and the other with short blonde hair. He recognized them from her photos on Facebook. They were standing outside the ice cream shop with a teenage boy. Emma looked so happy and Killian was so memorized that he accidentally ran a stop sign.

The second time was grocery shopping. He was just pulling into the parking lot as Emma walked out with two bags in hand. She must have just gotten off of work, because she looked different than her pictures. She was in a dress with her hair pulled back, exposing her neck. He hid in his car until she left, driving a yellow bug that looked identical to the one his mom used to drive.

The third and fourth time happened on the same day, and he knew that he couldn't go much longer without reaching out to her. He was out with Liam on Saturday night. Their first stop was the Mad Hatter, a bar in the center of town. It wasn't a tourist place, and only the locals hung out there. He was sitting in a darkened corner booth when she walked in.

At first, he was a bit worried that she would be on a date, but he let out a sigh of relief when he saw she was alone. She looked beautiful though. Her jeans were tight and hugged her in all the right places. Her shirt was just a bit see through, showing the outline of her bra. Her hair fell down her back in large waves.

He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was glad Liam had gone outside to call his wife, because he wouldn't have let Killian live it down. He knew that if Liam saw Emma, he would call her over almost immediately. So Killian held his breath waiting to see what would happen.

Emma took a shot that the bartender gave her, winked and walked out.

"Hey little bro, looks like you've just seen a ghost," Liam said as he slid into the booth.

"Younger brother," was Killian's traditional reply, "and I think I did. I just saw Emma."

"Really? I didn't see her," Liam said looking around.

"She came in, took a shot and left," Killian explained.

"Oh, she must be going to the club then," he replies, like he knew everything and that was supposed to explain what just happened to Killian.

Thankfully Liam added some more information when he saw the confused look on his brother's face.

"There's a club across the street. Their drinks are outrageously expensive. Ladies get in for free and can come and go as they please, so they tend to come and go from here to get their drinks, then go back over to Ruby's to dance," he explained.

"Oh," Killian responded unsure of how to actually respond to that.

"Want to check it out?" Liam asked.

Killian did want to see Emma again, but a club was different. First, it wasn't really his scene. He stood out like a sore thumb in places like that. Secondly, he didn't want Emma to see him, not yet, not before he was ready.

He was about to say no when Liam didn't leave him an option.

"We're going. And I think it would be the perfect opportunity to say hello to an old friend," his brother added, pulling him from the booth and pushing him towards the door.

The line to get into the club wasn't bad. The price, though, was outrageous! 20 bucks a head if you were a guy.

"How in the bloody hell can this club even make money? Twenty a head, and you said the girls all leave to drink, so how does it stay in business?" Killian asked.

"Ruby. It's really as simple as that. Ruby owns the place. Everyone knows her. Guys pay to get in cause the girls are gorgeous and the bar is nice. Girls come cause they know Ruby lets them drink for cheap across the street and she gives them a place to dance. Unless Jefferson opens a dance floor, Ruby will keep making the money," Liam explained.

They finally got in and he immediately spotted Emma on the dance floor. It was like a spot light shone just on her. Her entire body was shining bright, welcoming him in. He was drawn to her. Yet, he was frozen in his spot. He was awestruck, watching her move to the music so intently that he didn't even notice someone knocking into him, spilling a bit of their drink on him.

"Well, go on, little brother," Liam urged.

But Killian didn't move. He wasn't sure if it was physically possible.

He also knew, in that split second moment that he couldn't let the first time he talked to Emma Swan in over 20 years be on a dance floor. She deserved better than that.

He turned and ran out of the club.

The whole way back to Liam's, where Killian was staying until he found a place, his brother made fun of him. He knew he was never going to live it down.

As they pulled into the house, Liam finally said something that wasn't giving him a hard time.

"Eventually, you are going to have to talk to her. Man up already. Remember, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets."

And that stuck with him for a few more days. He would stare at her photo on Facebook, trying to will himself to send her a message. He kept telling himself that it didn't matter what he actually said, she would be happy to hear from him. At least, he hoped she would be.

Liam finally got annoyed with his behavior and took things into his own hands, which as hard as it was for Killian to admit, was just what he needed to get over everything and reach out to her.

Killian walked in from an early shift to see Liam had written a message to Emma for him. He hadn't hit send, but there was a sticky note saying that if he didn't get his head out of his ass and send it to her, Liam would soon. Killian knew that he needed to be the one to reach out, and with the fear of Liam being Liam, he edited the message a bit, and hit send.

Hey Emma, So I'm back in town. I wanted to know if you wanted to meet up for dinner soon and catch up. I know it's been a while - a really long while - and you may be pissed at me for losing touch, but I would really like to meet up, give me a chance to explain. Let me know. I've missed you Swan

He sat in front of that computer for what seemed like days. His emotions were all over the place. He was scared as hell as to what her response was going to be. And with each passing minute that she didn't respond, his internal monologue got worse.

She thinks you're crap. You were a shitty friend and she knows it. You left her alone for over 20 years; what kind of person does that? Do you really expect her to care now? Do you really expect her to write back? She knows better, her life is better off without you.

Finally, the Gods took pity on him, and Emma messaged him back. He was scared to look at first, but when he saw just what she wrote he was ecstatic. Something in him changed in that moment. All of a sudden, nothing in the past mattered anymore.

Hey Killian. Sure, let's meet. 6PM tomorrow, Granny's (I hope you remember where it is!) our old booth. See you then.

With those words, Killian vowed to himself that he was going to right things with Emma one way or another, and he had the perfect idea of how to start - by making good on a promise he made so many years ago.

[thebestoftimes]

50 QUESTION BOOK TAG FOR WORLD BOOK DAY

By me, Jess. I made this for world book day but then got depressed and didn’t post it on time lmao but here ya go kids be warned though it’s a long one. Also the numbers thing got fucked up and I couldn’t fix it.  I got a lot of these questions from other tags I’ve seen and google so if something sounds familiar... that’s why.

Who or what sparked your love of literature?

Aw my parents fueled my book habit when I was a kid and took me to the bookstore all the time and since then all my teachers have always encouraged me and made me love books even more than I thought possible.

Do you have an ‘odd’ book habit? (page sniffing/never leaving the house with a book)

It’s true that I never go anywhere without a book. I got one in my backpack or purse or reading on my phone but it’s always there.

Do you have a book that you think has changed your life? How?

A lot of books and series have made significant impacts on my life (like I can’t picture elementary school without Percy Jackson being in my life) but like as a person I can’t think of any one book that has changed who I am. It’s been a team effort.

Which book have you reread most frequently?

I think I reread Hush Hush every year lmao idk why

You can meet any author and ask one question. What author would you chose and what question would you ask?

I’d want to meet Shakespeare and ask him if all his characters really were just that gay or if we’re all reading too much into it.

Best book published this year so far?

It’s only March but The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi

Imagine you’ve started a book and don’t like it. Do you see the experience through to the bitter end, or are you able to talk away from it mid story?

I used to always finish what I started but now that I’m in college and have a mountain of a TBR I’ll just stop.

What book is top of your wish list/TBR pile?

Uhh A Winter’s Promise by Christelle Dabos  is on top rn

Favourite place to read?

My bed. Boring but a classic.

If you buy books, do you lend them out? Ever had a bad experience?

Of course. No all my friends respect my stuff and return them promptly.

What fictional character do you ship yourself with?

So many but I think Gansey and I from The Raven Cycle would make the best couple.

Weirdest thing you’ve used as a bookmark

I use whatever near me so I might have done something weirder but lately I’ve been using tissues because I have a tissue box by my bed and never real bookmarks. But I’ve used graded homework, a toy car, a crayon, earbuds, etc.

Favorite quality/qualities in a protagonist and antagonist

Wow this is s hard okay for protag I am a sucker for like stubborn, smartass with a martyr complex. Sad but true. Antags I love a good morally grey character or anti-villain. Tragic backstory but smart as hell. The worst (the best). Characters like the Darkling from The Grisha Trilogy, and Warner from the first Shatter Me book (I know he’s a good guy NOW but back then we all thought he was a sadistic and sexy villain).

Favorite genre and favorite book from that genre.

YA Urban Fantasy babyyy and that’d be City of Bones by Cassandra Clare or Lady Midnight by Cassandra Clare:)

  Best/worst movie adaptation in your eyes

Best: Harry Potter and The Hunger Games | Worst: Percy Jackson

Do you prefer reading your own books, or library books?

My own.

How do you choose your next book to read?

Literally whatever I’m feeling like at the moment.

Your favorite word.

I love many words but I have a soft spot for “lively” and “lilt”.

Book that got you hooked on reading/how you got hooked.

I’ve always been obsessed with reading but The Peter and the Starcatchers Series was like my shift from nicotine to heroine.

Opinion on dog-earing, margin writing, ect.

I only write in the margins of books I have to read for class/textbooks. And that’s for studying and active reading purposes. For any other situation: no.

Top 5 immediate to read in no order

A Winter’s Promise by Christelle Dabos

A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

The Wicker King by K. Ancrum

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E Schwab

Most underrated book you’ve read

Definitely The Foxhole Court/ All for the Game series. Fairly small fanbase for some of THE most amazing books I’ve ever read. And the memes will have you in stitches.

What is the first book that catches your eye when you look at your bookshelf?

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell because of the exceedingly bright cover/spine haha

How do you arrange your books on your shelves?

LOL I do not have a system at all. I keep series and authors together and that’s it. Everything is placed where there is room.

You have the power to change a book’s ending. Which ending would you change and what would you make happen instead?

I’d change the end to Allegiant and SPOILERS SPOILERS not make Tris fucking die over her shitty ass brother. I know why she did it but like Veronica girl wyd with that. And I’d want the entirety of Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins to be rewritten into a book that just focused on the domestic life of Finnick and Annie and no one dies.

Favourite book cover?

This is SO HARD. Either The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin or Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi

Which book from your childhood has had the most impact on you?

My entire personality was shaped by the Maxmimum Ride series by James Patterson. For better and worse.

When reading, what do you value most: writing style, characters, plot, world building, pacing, etc?

Characters. I think all of those things are essential and as I read more and more, the pickier I get, but I find myself leaning towards being a fan of a book when I become obsessed with the characters. Like hey!! New friends!!! For my brain!!!

Do you prefer buying books or borrowing them from a library/friend?

Buying them even though I shouldn’t. It’s a real problem.

What books/sequels that are being published this year are you most excited for?

SO MANY OH MY GOD

Okay some of these already came out because it’s March right now but I’ll include them anyways.

SEQUELS/ SPIN-OFFS AND SHIT

The Wicked King by Holly Black; King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo; Dream by Natalia Jaster; Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare; The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare; Capturing the Devil by Kerri Maniscalco, Call Down the Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater; Defy Me by Tahereh Mafi; The Shaw Confessions #3 by Michelle Hodkin

FIRST BOOKS

The Binding by Bridget Collins; Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan; The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi; A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer; Romanov by Nadine Brandes; The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen; The Beautiful by Renee Ahdieh

Which fictional character would you want as a sidekick?

Percy Jackson because he’s my firstborn son and one of my favourite characters of all time. He is talented, smart, hilarious, an amazing friend, and the sweetest of boys (when he isn’t the sassiest of boys).

How many books have you read so far this year?

Only 15 I am so behind :(

What’s been your favourite read so far this year?

Oh man. Gotta be Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo :)

You’re stuck on an island with a suitcase big enough to hold five books. What books are they?

I probably shouldn’t cheat and say How to Build a Boat huh

City of Bones by Cassandra Clare

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

The King’s Men by Nora Sakovic

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan

If you had to go out to dinner with any character who would it be and why? What would you talk about?

Will Herondale and we’d talk about books

Is there a book you have such a hatred for that you would throw it off of the highest tower knowing that the last copy of it will be destroyed so that not another living soul can read it or would you rather keep it and give it to someone else who might actually enjoy it?

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne or After by Anna Todd

Do you believe books make nice decoration?

I mean. I think they should be read before used as decor but I love showing off my books so I guess both. But I don’t believe in buying books for the purpose of decoration instead of reference or reading lol

Do you listen to music when you read? Or do you need complete silence? 

I need silence or low amount of white noise. I used to read and listen to Taylor Swift when I was a kid but I can’t do it anymore.

Do you have a favorite book? If not are you in the group that believes there are too many great books out there to just choose one?

I tell people it’s City of Bones by Cassandra Clare but in all honesty no I don’t have a favourite.

Do you sleep with books under your pillow.

Nope

Do you go to the library or do you have a book buying addiction or are you one of those lucky people who is able to do both?

I do both. Mostly bookstore though.

Own any book inspired clothing?

Yes. Several items :)

Have you ever read a book in another language?

I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Tristan and Isolde, and Beauty and the Beast in French. And parts of Les Mis.

Strangest book you’ve ever read?

John Dies at the End by David Wong. Still not sure exactly what was going on. 

Favourite type of non-fiction?

Memoirs babey

Favourite non-fiction?

Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand

Favourite subject to read about?

History

Favourite book you’ve read in school?

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

Favourite work of Shakespeare?

Hamlet

Character you’d love as a mom or dad or guardian?

Hmm Sally Jackson, The Women of 300 Fox Way, or Tessa and Will (they totally count because The Last Hours Series)

I tag literally whoever wants to do this and @fangirl-daydreamer97 @acleeds12 @iviisastrawberry @221bdoom @bicycles-bees-bisexuals @betterthanapit @dippindots126 @vlctorvale

[sweetiepie08]

The Musician with Poison Tears (Chapter 2)

Miguel Rivera’s been fascinated by the story of the legendary ghost, the Musician with Poison Tears, since he was a kid. He’s always wanted to know the full story behind the weeping specter that haunts the train station with its invisible guitar. Now 18, the travels to Mexico City to try to observe the ghost from afar and get some clues about its origin. Who knows? He might even get a song out of it.

This story is based on the art and ghost!au created by @melcecilia14​. Go check out her artwork here, here, here, and here. It’s really awesome.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Epilogue.

Bonus.

Miguel placed his song book in his suitcase, did a quick mental check to make sure he had everything, and closed the lid. He and his cousins Rosa and Abel were going to Mexico City for a week. They were staying with Miguel’s grandparents on his mother’s side to supposedly spend time together. Miguel, however, had an ulterior motive. He placed the suitcase on the floor and grabbed his guitar case next. He opened it up just to take one more peek at the instrument. He bought it when he was fifteen with his own money. He needed a new one after Abuelita found and subsequently smashed the one crafted himself. He saved up shoeshine money and birthday gifts for 3 years. It wasn’t the flashiest or most expensive guitar, but he loved it because it was his. He managed to keep this one hidden better, but it was eventually found. At least Abuelita didn’t smash it. She respected the work and savings he put into earning it too much. Instead, she demanded he sell it. He never did. He took it to a friend’s house, asked that he keep it until the heat died down, then snuck it back in. It wasn’t until a week ago that he revealed he still had it.

He was 18 now, and a fresh graduate from preparatoria. The day after his graduation, he announced that, not only was he accepted into the Conservatorio Nacional de Musica, but he was also the recipient of the Ernesto de la Cruz Memorial Scholarship given out by the de la Cruz estate to one talented aspiring musician every year. He’d expected a fight, in fact he prepared for a fight. He even made notecards for himself so that he could rehearse every logical argument he had about why they should support his musical dream. Of course it snowballed into a knock-down-drag-out the likes of which the Rivera household hadn’t seen since 1932 when Mama Coco was caught dancing in the Plaza with a strange boy. Said strange boy eventually grew up to be her husband, but that was beside the point.

It was a battle of the generations. Miguel vs Abuelita, Papa Franco, and his parents. His aunts and uncle didn’t say much, but it was obvious by their disapproving stares whose side they were on. Rosa and Abel both tried to back Miguel up. Abel argued that Miguel was exceptionally talented and should be encouraged. Rosa argued that being a musician didn’t necessarily mean abandoning your family. She then rattled off a list of famous musicians who were close with their families and never had a single scandal. “Besides,” she added, “he sucks at making shoes anyway.” However, they backed off when it came to light that they aided in Miguel’s covert auditions.

Both learned about Miguel’s musical talent years earlier having separately come across him practicing in secret. Abel’s reaction basically amounted to “That’s so cool. Where did you learn to do that? What do you mean you taught yourself? Show me!” Rosa didn’t say anything, but gave him a withering stare. He was sure it was all over and avoided the rest of his family for most of the day. It wasn’t until he reluctantly sat down for dinner and received nothing but the usual “Why don’t you eat more? This is why you’re so skinny” chides from Abuelita that he realized he was not about to be killed. When he asked Rosa about it later, she admitted that, while she disapproved of him directly disobeying the familial laws, (God, why did she always have to talk like a lawyer?) she did respect the obvious hard work he put into his craft. Over the next few years, the two of them became the only members of his family he could play for and get feedback from. Finally, when Miguel told them he wanted to audition to study music, they concocted a plan. They told their family that they were going on a “cousins’ weekend,” borrowed the truck, and drove up to Mexico City. He managed to schedule his auditions for both the Conservatorio and the de la Cruz people in the same whirlwind weekend. When they got home, their family was non-the-wiser.

The fight boiled over when Abuelita threated to smash the guitar just like she had the last one. Miguel blocked her way and told her it wasn’t there. As a forethought, he hid it at a friend’s house again, so she couldn’t get at it if it got to that point. He refused to tell her where it was. Everyone became angrier with him and started shouting at the same time. He couldn’t remember what set him off, but he finally shouted back “Maybe great-great grandfather was right to leave!”

The family stopped all at once. Stunned silence suffocated the air. His mother couldn’t look at him. His father demanded he apologize immediately. Worst of all was Abuelita. The hurt in her face was clear. She couldn’t even muster the strength to take off her shoe. Miguel had never seen her like this. She only let out a defeated breath and walked out of the room. She hasn’t spoken to him since.  

Miguel shut the guitar case and set it down by the dresser. When he straightened up, he paused to look at the picture he kept on top. It was a photo of himself and Mama Coco taken on her 99th and final birthday. He crouched by her wheelchair, and showed off his dimple while Mama Coco beamed in her pink party hat. Right next to it, he kept the last gift he ever received from her. She died before she could give it to him. She passed away a week before his 13th birthday and they found the gift while they sorted through her things. It was a small rectangle carefully wrapped in red paper with a little yellow bow on top. A card displaying his name in her shaky handwriting proved it was his. He never opened it and he never planned to.  

“Mama Coco, I messed up real bad,” he admitted to the picture. “I know they don’t want me to be a musician but it’s my life. It’s what I’m good at. It’s what I love to do. Why can’t they just accept that?” Miguel sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Still, I shouldn’t have said that to Abuelita. I took it too far. I know, I know. I need to apologize, even if she disapproves.” But she could also stand to apologize to me.

Miguel picked up his bags and headed out the door. His parents stood in the hallway waiting for him. “All packed?” his mother asked, all the usual joy and nurturing gone from her voice. The tension still lingered from the fight the week before.  She pulled him into the most impersonal hug a mother could give, which is to say, not all that impersonal, but still had an underlying discomfort to it.

“You, uh, have a safe trip,” his father said, patting him on the back. “And try to talk to your Abuelita before you leave.”

Miguel nodded and shuffled down the hallway to the living room. He could hear Abuelita’s favorite telenovela on the tv. When he peaked his head in, he saw her watching with the same sour look on her face she wore all week. He set his bags down by the door, took a long, deep breath, and stepped in with all the ease and eagerness of a man about to face a firing squad. “Abuelita,” he called, as he tip-toed up to her chair.  “Abuelita, no one’s been telling me to eat all week. I think I got even skinnier…” She shifted her head just enough to give him the tiniest glance, then went back to her program. Miguel sighed and approached her. He knelt down beside her recliner the way a peasant knelt before his queen. “I’m leaving, Abuelita. I’ll be gone for a week. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Her eyes slid in his direction, but she said nothing.

“I know you’re still mad about the whole musician thing, but it’ll be okay. I’ll be home all the time, you’ll see… except when class is in session, then I’ll be staying with Abuela Josephina and Abuelo Roberto. You know, Mama’s parents?” She gave him back a blank stare. “Come on, you know them. You kick Papa Roberto’s ass at poker every Christmas? They may not be in Santa Cecilia, but they’re still family.”

She gave him the slightest turn of her head.

Miguel let out a breath. He was all out of words for her. He knew what she wanted. She wanted him to throw out his guitar, forfeit his acceptance to the Conservatorio and the scholarship, and apologize for ever considering becoming a musician in the first place. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. He worked too hard for those things. Why couldn’t she at least respect the work he put in like Rosa had? Why couldn’t she just support him?

Still, he didn’t want to leave her on a bad note. Fortunately, he had another trick up his sleeve. “I know what’ll cheer you up,” he said, taking off his own boot. She looked over, apparently curious about what he was about to do next. Well, here goes nothing. One… two… On the mental count of thee, he smacked himself in the face with his own boot. As he looked up and rubbed his sore cheek, he saw Abuelita forcing her lips closed, defiantly holding back a snicker. “Careful Abuelita, you almost smiled there.” He hazarded a kiss on the cheek and got out unscathed. “I’ll be back in a week. I promise.” With that, he got up and headed out the door.

His next stop was the courtyard where his baby sister, Coco, was furiously at work with her crayons. He announced his presence by picking up a spare piece of paper and placing it on her head. She reached up when she felt the impromptu hat land on her head and turned to see her brother standing behind her. “Miguel!” she gasped, throwing herself onto her artwork. “Don’t look! It’s not ready!”

“Aw, Coco, are you making that for me?” he asked, leaning in to sneak a peek.

“I said don’t look!”

“Sorry.” He turned away and used his hand to shield his eyes. He waited patiently and listened to the sound of crayon scribbling against the paper until she announced that it was done. He turned back to see her proudly holding her crayon magnum opus. “It’s beautiful,” he said, taking it gingerly in his hands. “Another masterpiece. It belongs in the Lourve.”

“That’s you and that’s me,” she said, pointing at the two humanoid figures. The shorter one had her trademark pigtails and the taller one had his shaggy hair and soul patch. Her little finger moved up to a smiling yellow ball in the corner. “And the sun is happy because you’re home.” Her face suddenly fell and she sunk down on the bench. “You’re not leaving forever, are you?”

“Oh, Coco no.” He set aside his bags, placed the drawing back on the table, and scooped Coco onto his lap. “I’m just going on a trip with Rosa and Abel for a week. We’re staying with Mama Josephina and Papa Roberto. I’ll be back soon.”

“But I heard Abuelita arguing with Mama and Papa. They said…”

“Never mind what they said. There’s no reason I can’t be a musician and see you all the time. Plenty of other people do it.”

“But when you’re at music school, you won’t be here,” she sulked.

“No, but how about this?” He shifted Coco so that she could see his face better. “When I get my class schedule, you and I will pick out a time that we can have a FaceTime date. Would you like that?”

“I guess,” she mumbled as she flopped bonelessly against his chest. “It won’t be the same.”

“No, it won’t be exactly the same,” he conceded, “but you’ll still see me all the time, I promise.”

Coco hardened her face and, for a second there, looked just like Abuelita laying down the lay. “You’d better.”

“Anything you say.” He heard Abel firing up the truck and placed Coco back on the bench. “I’ve got to go now. Hug for the road?” He held out his arms and she flung herself into them. “I’ll be back soon, Coco. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

He set Coco down and headed out to Abel’s truck. Rosa was already in the passenger seat, so Miguel threw his suitcase in the truck bed and climbed in the back. “Still planning on writing that ghost song?” Abel asked, spotting the guitar case by Miguel’s side in the rearview.

“Yup,” he chirped, fastening his seatbelt.

“You’re really gonna spend a good chunk of this vacation ghost hunting in a train station?” Rosa rolled her eyes, but Miguel paid her no mind.

“Sure am.” He’d let it slip earlier that he wanted to visit Buenevista Station. People might think it’s crazy to go on a trip to a train station, but Miguel had his reasons. That train station housed the legendary Musician with Poison Tears. The spirit was Miguel’s life-long obsession, apart from Ernesto de la Cruz that is. He wanted to see it for himself. He felt a formless song churning in the back of his mind. He wanted to write it, needed to write it. There was something stuck in his brain and he needed to get it out.

Rosa sighed and shook her head. She never did get on board with the whole ghosts-existing belief. Abel gave one last wave goodbye to the family and pulled the truck away. No radio. Just because Miguel openly defied the music ban didn’t meant anyone else was up to the task.

Miguel rolled down his window and let the wind blast him in the face. At least it was something other than silence. He felt a beat in him from the roll of the truck and he tapped it out on his guitar case. Now that they brought it up, he couldn’t stop thinking about the ghost at the station. Like all urban legends, very little was known about who the spirit was in life. But scraps of the story helped paint the picture. It played an invisible guitar, so it must have been a musician. It had poison tears, so most people assume it died by poison as well. It kept trying to board trains, so it was trying to go somewhere. And lastly, it poisoned child abusers, so it fiercely protected children. Who was this ghost? Why was he stuck there? And why was he so protective of children?

Miguel wanted to see the ghost up close. He wanted to get closer than anyone had before. Most of all, he hoped observing the ghost, what it looked like, where it went, how it acted, would give him some clues as to the ghost’s past. He thought, if he could learn just a little bit more about the ghost, he could finally get this nagging song out of his head.

[yesimgoingtopeacecorps]

The Guinean Peace Corps Guide to Packing

This list obviously isn’t perfect, but I’m sure if you’ve stumbled onto this blog post you’re looking for a good Peace Corps packing list, especially if you’ve just been accepted to Guinea and you’re getting ready to leave. I’m currently in my 6th month of living in Guinea and I’ve received a few things from home along the way.

Just as a reminder, you’re technically only allowed two large suitcases, at 50lbs each for the trip. However, I knew some people who paid extra for another bag, and, looking back, I should have just done that. It would have saved me and a lot of people at home money on the expensive overseas shipping to Conakry.

Things I packed:

Clothes

a note about clothes, try to get things that are quick dry or make for an active lifestyle. You will be washing your clothes by hand and you’ll want things that are very easy to clean, don’t show dirt, and don’t hold smells. I suggest Lululemon, Athleta, Patagonia, and those kind of brands. You can find cheaper and discounted clothes online at backcountry.com and Sierra Trading Post (also a great place to find any of the camping or hiking gear listed on here). You  can also check out TJMaxx and Marshalls. Also, you’re going to get clothes made here and people are always leaving stuff “up for grabs” at the regional houses, so don’t pack too much clothes wise.

For girls, I will say, error on the side of caution when it comes to shorts, skirts, and tops. You can always cut things or have them tailored but where I live is pretty conservative and as much as I hate it, I wouldn’t be caught dead walking out of my house in a thin strap tank top.

  3 pairs of pants that youcould wear in an office setting but also wear hiking (try Athleta for these)

1 pair of hiking or durable pants that you don’t mine messing up- I use mine to garden

1 pair of black leggings

2 pairs of running/workout leggings

3 pairs of shorts (try to  make them longer/knee length)

2 pairs of compression     shorts/spandex

1 pair of jeans

5 or 6 nice shirts (at least one long sleeved one, I promise there are places that it does get cold here)

2 or 3 tank tops

5 casual t-shirts/workout shirts

2 skirts (well past the knee and flowly)

3 day dresses

1 or 2 nice dresses (but not heavy or thick, the place where you train for three months is very hot)

10 pairs of underwear (check out ExOfficio for great travel underwear)

6 sports bras

2 or 3 regular bras

2 or 3 pairs of hiking/thick socks

7 pairs of regular running socks

1 pair of Chacos or tevas (I live in these shoes)

1 pair of running shoes

Hiking boots or closed toed shoes with a very good grip (the only real tourist thing to do in Guinea is hiking and you will definitely use them. I also use mine when gardening)

1 or 2 bathing suits (these are hard to find in Guinea)

1 good durable raincoat

1 lightweight jacket

1 sweatshirt

1 sweater/cardigan

Other wearables:

A good hat

Cheap sunglasses (you can buy more here and I’ve already broken three pairs)

Two scarves

HAIR TIES

Non-valuable jewelry if you  like that sort of thing

A good backpack

A small foldable bag for market days

A purse

A small cross-body purse

 Electronics:

INSURANCE INSURANCE INSURANCE     (Clements Worldwide is the one I use. It was $150 for a year but it saved     my life when I got robbed during training and was reimbursed almost $2,000     for the stuff stolen

My Macbook

A kindle or tablet- I use     mine every day

An iPod (I also brought my     old iPod touch in the case that I got robbed… it was definitely a smart     move)

A smartphone (MAKE SURE YOU     CAN REMOVE THE SIM CARD AND PUT IN A DIFFERENT CARRIERS SIM… I had a lot     of friends have issues with that because they were tied to Sprint or     another carrier that had the phone locked)

A lifeproof or otterbox case     for the phone

A rechargeable external     battery

A solar battery charger for     phones (I recommend DragonX brand)

2 Luci Lights (look it up,     it’s a solar light)

2 headlamps

4 power adapters/converters

A surge protector- trust me,     my iPhone died my first month because there was a power surge and it fried     my phone

Multiple charging cables for     anything USB related

Three pairs of good earbud     headphones

An external hardrive (2TB)     (mine has hundreds of movies, tv shows, and workout episodes on it. I     highly recommend this)

A digital watch

  Home and Kitchen

Scrubba Wash Bag (look it up,     in my opinion it makes doing laundry here a lot easier)

Duct Tape (if you forget     everything else, remember to bring duct tape)

Electrical tape

Can opener- trust me on this     one

Garlic press

A few good kitchen knives

Thin, plastic cutting boards

Three quick dry towels

Compressable pillow (I     recommend ThermaRest brand)

An all purpose tool

Toiletries

Shampoo and conditioner     (Seriously, you will want this. I ran out of both during training and     there was no place to buy either of them where we were. You can also try     LUSH bars, solid shampoo and conditioners, expensive but worth it.)

Dr. Bronner’s All Purpose     Soap

Toothbrusth and toothpaste

Facial toner and cleaner

Face wash

Hairbrush

Lotion

Sunscreen (you are given some     but I’ve found it clogs the pores in my face)

Basic makeup: eyeliner,     mascara, lipstick, coverup, blush, and a small thing of eyeshadow.

Tweezers

Your favorite nailpolish

Headbands

Deodorant

Razors

Nail clippers

File

Alcohol wipes or a small     bottle of alcohol or hydrogen peroxide.. Peace Corps doesn’t issue this     and this has definitely saved me from infections a few times

Medical tape

For girls, Diva Cups (they will save you from using the crappy tampons medical gives us and keep you from having to buy pads, which are expensive)

Baby powder

Hairbrush

Mini bottles of travel hand sanitizer

Mouthwash

A few toothbrushes and a toothbrush top

 Other Gear

A really good pocket knife

A few pens

Colored markers or crayons

A mini stapler

Rubberbands

A portable mini safe (I use mine here and just wrap it around the table leg. I keep all my extra money, my passports, and my credit cards in there.)

A mini sewing kit

At least two Nalgene water bottles

Liquid chalk markers (are cool for writing things on your walls and for using in the classroom)

Hair cutting scissors (multiple uses and of course, for cutting your hair)

Tape measurer

Wooden clothespins

  Things I wish I brought:

My Birkenstocks or my Rainbow     flipflops

A nice travel yoga mat

A nicer pair of dressy  sandals

More packets of dried food (knorr pasta sides, etc.)

Cliff bars, energy bars, etc.

Tuna packets (you can find sardines here but tuna is almost 3 dollars a can)

Workout gear

More photos of my family and friends

A small projector (I got one brought over for me and cost me 85USD. It’s perfect for movie nights and doing presentations)

Lots of charging cables

A small and light extension cord

Small fan (you can also get decent ones here when you get ready to move to site, but not having one during training was brutal)

Essential oils (can be used to do all sorts of things, especially when it comes to repelling bugs)

A good set of twin sized bed sheets. (SHEETS ARE EXPENSIVE and the sheets here not always that comfortable. Dig up your bedsheets from freshman year of college and bring them along)

 Here’s a list of things you can totally live without, but are nice to have:

 For the Cook in You:

Rennet tablets (for cheese     making- a project I’m still learning how to prefect)

A scoby to use to start making your own kombucha

Lots and lots of spices (you can buy them here but they’re expensive)

Measuring cups and measuring spoons

A small KitchenAid type  handmixer and blender

A mini mortar and pestle

Beeswax

Cheesecloth

Small bottle of Truffle oil

Peanut butter

Lots of water flavoring or     Gatorade packets

Oatmeal packets, dried food     packets

Dried cheese powder (cheese     isn’t a thing here and you’ll miss it more than you realize)

Bottle opener and wine opener

Any snacks you can think of     that you can eat without preparation (training is rough when it comes to     food verity, I legit ate a can of green peas once because all I wanted was     something besides rice and sauce)

 For the Workout Fanatic:

Soccer ball (I had a deflated     one sent to me, just add it to a care package list you won’t want to take     this with you)

Soccer cleats

Soccer socks

Resistance bands

Yoga mat

Arm band for iPod or phone     for music

 For the Gardener:

A good pair of gardening     gloves

Packets of all kinds of seeds

A small hand shovel and small     hand rake

  For the Hiker and Camper:

A hammock with a mosquito net     or a small tent

Carabineer clips

An ultralight sleeping pad

Compressable pillow (I     recommend ThermaRest brand)

Moleskin for blisters

A dry bag to store your stuff     when it rains

A steripen for water

 For the Future Pet Owner:

*I got a kitten in Guinea and it was the first thing I did when I got to site. If you’re preparing to get yourself a furry friend, here’s a number of things you’ll want because buying anything pet related in country is super expensive

Cat or dog collar

Flea collar or medication

Small toys for them

Deworming medication

 Things you can leave at home or could buy in Guinea:

High-heels. Trust me on this. You will never wear them (except maybe at Swear-In, but if you want there     are places to find cheap heels here.) Save the space in your bag.

Most kitchen utensils (but I  would suggest bringing at least one fork and one spoon)

A lot of books- theres lots     of them here at the regional houses and if you bring a kindle or tablet,     you can buy more or trade kindle books with other volunteers

A portable camping shower     (you’ll get use to bucket baths and trying to set it up was much more     effort than it was worth.)

A hair straightener and mini     blow dryer. (You won’t use them)

 That’s all I’ve got for you! I hope this list helps and if anyone has any questions, feel free to contact me or shoot me a message!

  Sarah

[redditnosleep]

Fran and Jock

by Pippinacious

I was the last in a long line of grandkids on both sides of the family. No one has ever said as much, but I'm pretty sure I was an "oops" baby; the result of one too many glasses of wine and a couple over forty who thought unplanned pregnancies were for teens.

Oops.

By the time I came along, both of my grandmothers had already passed away and my grandfathers were elderly and lived in different states. Trying to coordinate travel plans for a family of five, including an infant, was difficult on a budget and neither of my grandpas were up to frequent trips, so visits were rare and spaced out over long periods.

Still, both of my parents wanted me to have a relationship with them, so we'd trade phone calls so they could hear my nonsensical baby babble, they'd write me letters for Mom and Dad to read to me, and they'd get crayon scribbles in return.

When I was three, they both started to experience declines in health. First my maternal grandpa, then my paternal one. Fearing the worst, Mom purchased a pair of teddy bears, the kind that had recorders in them so you could record a message that would play when the bear was hugged, and made sure to get a message saved from both.

My mom's father died when I was four. A few days after his funeral, I was given a white teddy bear with bright blue eyes that twinkled from beneath a plaid flat cap and a green sweater. When I gave it a squeeze, I heard my grandpa's slightly muffled voice from its stomach.

"I love you, Sadie."

Two years later, after Dad's father passed, I got the other one. It was a slate gray color and the stitching on his face gave him a rather serious expression for a stuffed animal. A pair of red suspenders held up his tan trousers. I fell asleep hugging it and my dad told me some years later, with tears in his eyes, that randomly throughout that night, he kept hearing Grandpop's voice coming from my room.

"I love you, Sadie."

I named my white bear Fran and my gray bear Jock and put them on a shelf above my bed, where they sat throughout my childhood. Honestly, I didn't give them much thought; they had become fixtures of my room, the same way the lamp and dresser were. Every now and again, I'd come home from school to find one of my parents standing beside my bed, looking up at the bears or giving them a little squeeze. Even as time passed, they still recited their single phrase without fail.

Aside from those instances, though, Fran and Jock were little more than dust collectors from my childhood.

When I went away to college, the two didn't make the cut and were left behind while I made my way out into the world for the first time. I think my parents were a little disappointed that I wasn't more sentimental over the teddies, but any memories I had of my grandpas were hazy at best and I didn't have the same emotional connection that they did.

When Mom gently asked about whether I would like them when I moved into my first apartment, I told her no, that they were probably better off with her.

"Ok." She said. "Well, they'll be here if you change your mind."

I was pretty confident I wouldn't.

The next time I went back to my parents' place was to housesit while Dad took Mom on their long awaited vacation out west. He'd been promising her they'd go for over thirty years and they were both buzzing with excitement. In typical Mom fashion, however, she was also very nervous.

"You remember where all the financial documents are in case anything happens to us, right?" She asked from the backseat at least six times on the drive to the airport.

"Yes, in the white bin under your bed."

"And the wills?"

"Fireproof lock box in the back of your closet."

"And th-"

"I think she's got it, hon." Dad said, reaching back to give her knee a squeeze.

Mom harrumphed and sat back. "Just call if you need anything."

"I'll be fine, don't worry! You're only going for a week."

"A lot can happen in a week." She said.

I grinned at her in the rearview mirror, unconcerned, and she made a face at me, but seemed to relax.

After I dropped them off, I drove back to their place and started to make myself at home again. I tossed my suitcase on my bed and went to the kitchen to make some dinner and catch up on one of my shows. It had been a while since I'd had a true, completely free week all to myself and I planned to take full advantage of it. After I ate, I kicked up my feet, stretched out, and commenced "Lazy Lump" mode.

I managed to get almost three episodes in before I started to nod off. I checked the clock over the TV and sighed. It was only just after eleven; was I really turning into an old, early-to-bed woman already? The horror! I rolled off the couch and shut off the tv and all the lights, plunging the house into a deep darkness.

Even in the inky black, I didn't feel even a twinge of nervousness. I'd grown up in the house, I knew it like the back of my hand, and all of its creaks and groans were almost comforting. I made my way to my room and flipped on the light. It had been at least five years since I lived there, but my parents hadn't done much to change my room except store a few bits and bobs in the closet. They said it was so I'd know I'd always have a place with them. I thought it was because changing it would make the fact that I was out for good more real.

Whatever the reason, I appreciated the familiarity.

As I started to unpack my bag, my eye was drawn to the shelf over my bed. Fran and Jock, ever vigilant, were sitting in the same spots they'd occupied for most of my life. I don't know why, but I couldn't help but smile and reach out to them.

I took Fran down first and gave his little cap a tweak before squeezing him around his stomach.

"I love you, Sadie." Grandpa said.

After putting Fran back, I did the same to Jock, who stared up at me with his usual sternness even as I plucked one red suspender.

"I love you, Sadie." Grandpop said.

It was the first time I'd listened to them in a while. Even if they didn't resonate as deeply with me as they did my parents, I was glad to find their recordings still worked.

A quick trip to the bathroom and a change into my pjs later, I was in bed and fast falling asleep.

I can't say exactly what woke me. A nightmare, I figured, given that my heart was beating quite quickly, but I couldn't remember any details. I took a deep breath and rolled over, already falling half asleep again, and found myself face to face with a dark figure on the pillow beside me. I yelped and sat up, grabbing at my phone, my nearest source of light, and shined it towards my bed.

Fran was lying on his side beside me.

I let out a small chuckle and gave myself a little shake to dismiss the lingering fright that he'd caused and picked him up.

"Did you fall off the shelf?" I asked him quietly. I must have put him back too close to the edge earlier and gravity had done its duty.

I gave Fran a gentle squeeze.

"Get out."

I stared down at the bear and blinked once, very slowly. I must be more sleepy than I realized, I thought. I was hearing things. To prove to myself that it had just been my imagination, I squeezed him again.

"Get out."

It was still Grandpa's voice, but instead of the soft warmth it had always had, it sounded cold, almost menacing. I threw Fran across the room, where he hit the wall.

From over my head, I heard Grandpop's more gravely voice.

"Get out."

I whipped around and looked up at Jock. He was sitting in the same place as always, but now he was turned towards the door instead of facing forwards. Had I put him down like that? I couldn't remember.

"Get out!" Grandpa's voice came from Fran again, louder this time.

"Get out!" Grandpop echoed from Jock.

The two went back and forth, their voices getting louder and louder, until I slapped my hands over my ears and leapt from my bed. I wanted to scream, but my voice was stuck behind my fear tangled tongue. I stumbled across my dark room, chased by my long dead grandfathers' voices.

"I know you're down there!" Jock shouted with Grandpop's voice.

I froze. Down there? Down under the shelf? I glanced over my shoulder at the gray bear staring silently down from over my bed. I had to get out of my room. I had to get out of the house! I yanked open my door.

"I see you!" Fran said in Grandpa's voice.

I was halfway out into the hall, tears streaming down my face. I didn't know what was happening, was I going crazy? Was I dreaming? All I knew was that my two childhood toys were screaming threats at me and I had to get away from them. I turned towards the stairs.

"You take one more step, I'll make sure it's your last!" Jock bellowed.

"Get out!" Fran roared.

From somewhere downstairs, a step creaked.

Someone else was in the house.

They weren't yelling at me at all, I realized with a very strange mix of confusing relief and newly formed horror. They were yelling at the intruder who was making their way up the stairs, towards me.

"Get out!" My grandfathers howled together.

Footsteps clamored across the wood floor downstairs. Something fell over in the living room with a loud crash, and again in the kitchen, before the back door slammed against the counter as it was thrown open and a car engine rumbled to life.

Somehow, I regained my wits enough to run to my parents room and look out the window to the driveway below. An SUV was peeling backwards out into the street. It slammed into the neighbor's mailbox, righted itself, and then screeched off into the night.

A heavy quiet had fallen over the house again.

After waiting a few, long, tense minutes, I crept back across the hall and peeked into my room. Fran and Jock were where I'd left them, both completely silent. When they stayed that way, I hesitantly approached Fran, who was lying on his side with his little flat cap beside him. I picked him up and, with trembling fingers, squeezed his stomach.

"I love you, Sadie." Grandpa said warmly.

I put his cap back on his head and gently put him back on the shelf beside Jock and backed out of the room, watching them the whole time with wide eyes. As I rounded the corner, heading downstairs to the phone, I heard Grandpop's voice trailing after me.

"I love you, Sadie."

The police arrived a bit later, following my frantic call to 911. I filed a report, leaving out the bit about my talking bears, and allowed them to collect whatever evidence they could. Every so often, I found myself glancing at the stairs, almost like I was expecting a repeat of whatever had just happened. It never came and the cops wrapped it up, leaving me alone again.

When I called my parents to tell them about the break in, they immediately wanted to rush home, but I assured them there was no need.

"Really," I said, "I don't think I have anything to worry about."

"We could be on the next plane." Mom insisted.

"No, I'm ok. Whoever that guy was, I'm pretty sure he won't be back."

It took a few more go arounds, but I eventually convinced them I was safe.

And I felt it, too, for the most part. After the initial shock had worn off and I'd had time to process what had happened, I really was ok. I couldn't explain it, I couldn't tell anyone what had happened without sounding crazy, but I knew it had been real and I knew, as long as I had Fran and Jock sitting on the shelf above my bed, I could sleep easy.

A few days later, the cops did find the guy who broke in. He was a coworker of my dad's who'd overheard he'd be out of town. He thought the house would be empty and easy pickings. When he tried to tell them about the two crazy guys upstairs and their violent threats, they rolled their eyes and laughed at him. He was very surprised to hear that only a twenty-two year old woman had been in the house during his botched burglary.

When I returned home to my apartment a week later, Fran and Jock were with me. I keep them on the tv stand in the living room now, where they have a full view of the front door. Whenever I start to feel a bit anxious about being alone, I'll give each bear a little squeeze and smile as they speak.

"I love you, Sadie."

And now I respond. "I love you both, too."

[adventuresindakar]

Leaning into the village.

On the first day of 2017 two of the people I love most in the world had a baby boy.  He was a “surprise” an unplanned arrival, years after they had finished having kids.  2016 is was a rough year for the world, but it was a particularly difficult one for their extended family so the arrival of this beautiful, healthy, baby boy was a joyful and auspicious start to 2017.  I did what people do when they are thousands of miles away, i cooed over his sweet, slightly stunned, red faced newborn photo his proud parents posted to facebook and then I wrote a message on his mama’s wall:  Welcome to the world! 

Welcome to the world. 

Its a phrase we bandy about so cavalierly when babies are born, but this time it caught in my throat a bit. Its a big deal, the biggest deal there is, to welcome someone to life as a human being on this planet, and all that entails.  All the joy and pain and disappointment and challenge and delight and frustration and complexity and simple pleasure of life as a human on this planet.  And only slightly less of a big deal is to be a parent of one of those newly formed humans who is responsible for guiding them through the first 20 or so odd years of life on that planet, hoping somehow that you will keep them in basically one piece and teach them to be polite and to tie their shoes and pee in the toilet and also respect their fellow human beings and love unconditionally and eat a balanced diet and meet their potential and not write on the furniture. 

Parenting is impossible. 

I know that people who are not parents get really sick of people who are parents being all dramatic and precious about their job of raising sticky little people and how hard it is and how exhausting and yet so Worth. It.  Non-parents, I assume, want to take all of us parents by the shoulders and say “first of all, you are NOT the first people to ever be parents, humans all over the planet have been doing this literally since the dawn of human existence and, secondly, you CHOSE this path so stop whining about it and let me get back to my kid-free brunch and quiet reading time.”

I really don’t blame them for feeling that way.  Even I get sick of the constant blather about parenting - but what non-parents have to understand is that, for most of us, parenting is overwhelming and bewildering in ways that were totally unexpected, but due to the exhaustion and extreme distraction we don’t get much time to reflect on this notion and thus fall back on comparing eating habits and fretting about potty training and debating endlessly about the best way to get our kid to sleep better at night.  (parents are obsessed with sleep.  All of us are certain that most of our problems would be solved if we could just get a friggin night’s sleep)

To make things even worse, parenting has become something of a competitive sport in America, especially among east-coast educated progressives who are all nauseating know-it-alls and hell bent do-gooders.  Armed with statistics and advice from parenting blogs, moms and dads volley healthy snacks and perfectly timed naps at each other with lightening speed, one upping with references to "restorative justice” or NYT articles about the pros and cons of co-sleeping   DC is an especially competitive parenting league, as it is chock full of (mostly) women who are professionals and would prefer to be working, but are being dragged to DC with their spouses for a relatively temporary assignment, and decide to be a SAHP for a while until their kids are in school.  These (mostly, but not entirely) moms pour the same level of professionalism and expertise into their children as they did into their high-powered careers, and the result is dizzying.  

In the months before we moved to Dakar I didn’t work and got to play quite a bit of rec league “parentball”, and like most sports, discovered out I wasn’t very good at it.  I was at once awed and shamed and morbidly fascinated by these perfectly turned out moms with their snacks and sunscreen.  Whereas my diaper bag was mostly a repository for used kleenex, melted crayons and mysterious food bits, the professional moms at the parks in my neighborhood had  handbags that seemed to be made from the same material as Harry Potter’s tent - no matter what the situation called for - a fresh pair of pants, a parka, a towel, a thermos of soup -  it was pulled at once from the depths of the bag.  While Enzo roamed around the splash pad in just a swimming suit (and maybe a swim diaper if I was having a good, day)  the other kids had sunproof swim shirts and zinc on their noses and sturdy water shoes.  I would inwardly sigh and put a mental check in the “crappy mom” column in my brain.  

I have to admit, I rarely felt overtly judged by the moms around me.  Occasionally i would catch a side eye, some shade thrown from across the swing set,  but it began to dawn on me that most moms were just desperately trying to prove that THEY were good moms, not that I was a bad one.  I wanted to say “you’re doing great! This is hard! If I pick your kid up after she falls off the slide, its not a referendum on you as a person, I was just handy and I am a teacher and it is second nature to me.”  I had the urge to start conversations with “Hey, my kid sleeps on his stomach and started drinking chocolate milk when he was 18 months old” just to clear the air.  But I was too insecure, there were too many check marks accumulating in my crappy mom column, and a particularly nasty inner voice was beginning to wonder aloud if perhaps I wasn’t cut out for this mommy business.

And then we moved overseas. 

 When we arrived in Dakar we had one adorably precocious two year old and vague plans to have another one in a year or two.  We didn’t know that I was already pregnant with what would eventually become our sweet little rascal, Mateo.  When I found out I was pregnant I was not immediately overjoyed, i was in despair - we were still living out of suitcases, I was tired and grieving the loss of the life I knew and bewildered about how to help Enzo manage the transition to this strange new world.   I was mentally exhausted from spending all day trying to speak French, and physically exhausted from the heat and mosquitoes cutting into our sleep, and emotionally exhausted from the impossible task of making a home in this dusty place, and I was in no shape to bring another person into our family.  After a couple days I unpacked my big girl panties and pulled myself together and got busy finding a home and working at the school and slowly began to embrace the idea of another tiny person in our lives.  But I couldn’t shake those check marks, the tally that added up to me being insufficient, and I wondered how I was going to parent another child when I was so far behind the learning curve.

Allow me to take a little detour from my story here.

I have always been aware that I am not a great driver.  I have never gotten into a catastrophic accident, but still, my wandering mind, poor hand eye coordination and slow reflexes mean that I am a mediocre driver at best.  Or at least that is what I used to think.  The truth is, I am not a bad driver, I was just born to drive in Africa.  Your mind can’t wander when there are horse drawn carts, goats, aggressive taxis, giant busses, potholes, reckless pedestrians and the occasional industrial dump truck to contend with.  And because the lanes are narrow and packed no one is going very fast, so my reflexes have ample time to fire up before I am going to go skidding into the car in front of me.  Traffic rules are optional, you can park your car anywhere you feel like stopping, lanes are just suggestions, and when backing out of a parking spot into oncoming traffic there is always a parking attendant ready to stand in your blind spot and wave you out into the street.  I love it.  (I am pretty sure my passengers aren’t nearly as enamored with my driving as I am) 

This is basically how I feel about parenting too.  I am not a bad parent at all, in fact I am a totally kick-ass mom.  As long as I am parenting in Dakar where the rules are flexible, you can take your kids anywhere, and there are always people ready to help you out of a jam. Maybe its because living overseas you learn to take things in stride and reorganize your priorities, or perhaps its the fact that people who choose to live their lives abroad are generally a bunch of freewheeling bohemians, but whatever the reason, parents here are an incredibly relaxed, supportive and non-judgemental group of people.  I love it.  

For example: I regularly leave my boys in the car when I run into the bakery or to the ATM or hop out at the vegetable stand.  I leave the doors locked and the windows open and I can always see them from the store and its never for more than a 5 minutes, but dragging two kids out of the car and through the sidewalk traffic just so I can buy a loaf of bread is insane.  The first time I did it because both kids were asleep, and I HAD to get water.  But now I do it as a matter of routine.

In the US this could get me arrested. 

Which is dumb, because it is objectively safer to leave your kids IN the car than drag them across a busy parking lot.  And the chances of someone breaking into your car and stealing them is infinitesimally small.  And all of us spent hours and hours sitting in the car on weekend mornings while our parent’s ran errands - a few minutes at the store and then at the bank and then at the post office-most of the time we were happy not to go in and stand in line.  I much preferred to wait in the car with my book.  My parents were not worried that a stranger would come by, see me in the car, assume my parents were negligent and abusive and then call the cops.  But now, it is a genuine fear - I don’t trust my neighbors to be on my side, they have become the enemy in my quest to raise my kids. My generation has found other means of supporting each other - online communities and MOPS groups and structured playdates - but there is not a sense that we can rely on our neighbors and community members to have our backs.  it is a lonely and terrifying feeling. 

The phrase “It takes a village to raise a child” has long been bandied about as an “African proverb” - which is kind of a silly notion considering there are upwards of 1500 languages spoken on this massive continent. But regardless of the origins of the phrase, it is a truism about how children are viewed here.  It is a common understanding that everyone within earshot is tacitly responsible for any kids nearby - on the street, in a store, in a restaurant.  And our community of teachers who live on this street are neighbors in the best way - sharing food and kitchen appliances and a helping hand at a moments notice. 

And in this year where I have been alone so much of the time, I have leaned on this village of understanding and generous people many many times.  There was the time at Halloween when I was trying to wrangle two overstimulated and exhausted kids out of Ebbets Field and into the busy night time streets when Mateo suddenly dropped to the ground, in a complete meltdown and I lost Enzo in the rush of people leaving.  A colleague who happened to be behind me scooped up Mateo, a different friend stopped Enzo before he got to the street and a THIRD person, who had just pulled his car up to the gate,  offered to drive him so I only had to lug one kid through the heat to my car.  Once, when I ran out of water I called my friend, Torie, who lives across the street to ask her if she would be willing to come sit in my house while one kid was asleep and the other was watching TV so I could run out and buy water.  She readily agreed, and when I got home (30 minutes later, because of course I had to go to two stores) she was washing my dishes.  Adam and Kayla, who live across the street, host Enzo for a few minutes every week when he chugs over to their house to pick up our weekly yogurt delivery.  He plays with their dogs and helps himself to their food and they are incredibly kind and good humored about it. One day, when it was raining cats and dogs, he was there for more than an hour - I finally dashed over to collect him only to discover that he had nearly talked Kayla into making him lunch. 

This weekend our friends Bill and Cairn (two of our favorite members of the parenting village) asked what we were going to miss the most in Dakar, what we were most worried about moving back to the US.  The number one top of my list item is returning to the world of competitive parenting, of being afraid to ask my neighbors to help, of getting caught up in the madness of shutting kids to “activities” and forgetting to just let them be, of constantly failing to live up to this invisible standard and letting that nasty voice back into my head, the one that tells me that I am not enough.  Instead I need embrace that notion, of course I am not enough, no one is, and the important thing is to find the people who will help you fill in the gaps, and whose gaps you can help to fill as well.  To find the village.  

[nodamageafterall]

The Get Down Watch Party

The Get Down Part 1 – Ep 1 Where There Is Ruin There Is Hope For Treasure

• Daveed Diggs • I used to find Zeke’s voice weird, but now I’m used to it • Still not sure how to feel about Leon • Sometimes I forget that Mylene has a sister • The Kipling Family • Ra Ra geeking about Star Wars #relatable • “That’s so stupid” “You’re stupid” #roasted • OMG Ra Ra and his suitcase • Regina is so sassy, hope we see more of that side of her • “Hey, You”, my favorite song because it makes me think of  Thizzee • Shaolin, everybody thinks he’s some type of badass legend, but soon they find out he is just a dorky • “Ciao for now”, why is Dizzee so extra? • I’m learning more about history while watching TGD that I learned in school • I’m so glad Francisco is one of the good guys • Boo Boo plaining the next move like the true mastermind he is, he is like Dizzee’s management • Savage Warlords, oh Napoleon • Francisco saves the day! • Ra Ra is so happy for Zeke • Ms Green is the true queen • Ra Ra and his references, he is like Tumblr in the 70’s • I assume all this burning buildings are CGI, I think most of the budget went on the background only • Zeke reciting the poem, what is that sound? Oh, right, it’s just my heart breaking • It looks like Regina and Yolanda are trying to seduce Mylene rather than give her boy’s advice • Ra Ra dancing, pls, no • Shaolin and Zeke’s meeting was just like it happen in romances • They focus on Napoleon, the foreshowing • “Wars on Mars” why you gotta do me like that Dizz? • That gay joke, Winston has no idea • Dizz and Boo aka partners in crime, everyone needs a little bro like Boo • Ra Ra’s advices are like really good and really bad at the same time • The girls looked so good • “Hey, You” • Can we delete Fat Annie existence? • It weird seeing how happy and pure they were until everything turns to shit • Poor Shaolin, I can’t handle that nasty woman using him like that • Cadillac, it’s really hard to hate on him when you are too busy laughing at his nonsense • Why aren’t we more weirded out with this grown men lusting after teen girls? • Zeke is too good, too pure for this world • Mylene knows her stuff, no man will play her • Is that Jesus Superstar playing on the club? • Shaolin and his karate shit, it’s like he is trying to scary Zeke off so they don’t have to fight, because he wouldn’t know how • Zeke bites Shaolin, that’s love • Zeke is so dramatic, willing to die for that record • Shaolin talking about the heat while wearing that leather jacket is quite ironic • “Which one?” “The beautiful one” classic • So upsetting that Malibu is dead, his lines were gold • Zeke’s fake accent, I’m offended and I don’t even speak spanish • Zeke needs to man up • Cadillac owns the dance floor • RIP Fat Annie’s Birthday Cake, gone too soon (I still would eat that tho) • I wish we could have more of Mylene and Cadillac dancing, just because their chemistry is really great, but I don’t ship them in anyway • Jack, I love him, but I’m afraid he will screw things over • Mylene broke Zeke’s heart and I feel for him, but he really needed that reality check • Never saw someone reading the bible so angrily • Ramon is the worst for beating Mylene like that, triggerwarning 1:10 to1:12 • Zeke, people died, you just got dumped • “I don’t understand all the crying over a female”, yeah, that’s ‘cause you are gay • Shaolin is so over the top, he and Zeke are perfect for each other • If it’s a secret underground how did him expect them to know about it? • I would expect people to be more traumatized after being in a shooting, but I guess  not • Shaolin is a fanboy, look at him fanboying over Grandmaster Flash • Zeke is wasted • Plot twist: Boo Boo is the true ladykiller romantic • I’m not saying Francisco is Mylene’s dad, but… he is • I cringed so hard the first time I saw that scene, it was clear that Zeke would fail the first try • Shaolin jumping in (literally) to save the day • Whenever older Zeke’s voiceover comes in I cry • Zeke and Shaolin are already bff and they literally just met • Shaolin isn’t just a dork, he is a nerd, he got his albums in alphabetic order • Ra Ra is a little jealous of Zeke’s friendship with Shaolin • Boo Boo is the king of comebacks • The name of the episode on the train it’s like when the character says the name of the show in the show • “You are a natural everything”, Zeke is flirting • Such a Moulin Rouge vibe of that Mylene bit, I hope nothing bad happens to her • Daveed Diggs!

The Get Down Part 1 – Ep 2 Seek Those Who Fan Your Flames

• I love that idea of starting the episode with a rap about the previously one • “Yo, how did he get in here?”, Ra asking the real questions • That fucking crayon • Dizzee’s “nice”, I wonder what is on his mind • “Protect her from herself” WTF Ramon • The Get Down Brothers? More like The Get High Brothers • Francisco rant about the white models #keepitreal • “My fucking crayon” LOL • The Kipling Bros left to go eat, priorities • Shaolin’s face while Zeke’s raps/ramble • Mylene and her mother bonding, more of those pls • Shaolin and his pigeons • I really hope the pigeons weren’t there when the place got burned • Shaolin is just 17 years old, he doesn’t deserve that shit • Zeke saw the light lol • “It takes two to make a thing go right”, is that what they call subtext? • Of course Shaolin gave him a nickname • Leon is so lazy smh • Ms Green and her red glasses • Francisco is the best • Senora Lopez is the gem of that episode • *Ignores Fat Annie for my mental health* • I really had no idea so much went into djaying, it made me appreciate it more • Grandmaster Flash is a showoff • Zeke and Shaolin fanboying together is my jam • Mylene’s voice is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get • Mylene, Regina and Yolanda are squad goals • I think it was low of Mylene to go ask help from Zeke after what happened, but I don’t think she really had much of a choice • Ra Ra and his Star Wars references • “Syrups got standars”, preach it Zeke • Shaolin is nosy • Ra Ra is the voice of the reason in this group • I hope someday I have Cadillac’s self-steem • Did he get all dress up to torture this kids? • I hate that scene • 38:45 to 39:46, skip it if you can #childabuse • The Kipling Bros dancing to Shaolin’s beat is everything • The tension in that bit is too much • 41:41 to 42:26 more child abuse and that time it’s worst, blood involved • They look so happy, why you have to ruin it? • Dizzee could’ve died • Shaolin just lost everything • Dizzee carrying that turntable, my heart aches • Shaolin trying to keep it together and lashing out on Zeke, he needs a hug • I’m glad that Zeke and Mylene sorted it out in the end • Ramon is always screwing things over • The church scene is uncanny • Jack is so hangover, when isn’t he? • Mylene preteding to get the holy spirit, so wrong, so funny • That DRESS • Shit is getting down • What? No, it can’t be over

[wellpersonsblog]

Best Toys for Multiple Ages

Look for the best toys for multiple ages? Here’s a roundup of toys that all of my kids have played with for many years. They’re great for entertaining a wide range of ages and perfect for keeping siblings entertained!

  Hi friends!

Last week, I did a little Q&A over on my Instagram stories and someone asked me for a list of toys that all of my kids play with. The holidays are approaching and lots of people have gift-giving on the brain. I had a few toys that immediately came to mind, but I also decided to ask my audience for their suggestions. With their help, I came up with a great list of the best toys for multiple ages. 

These are forever toys. The ones you can buy when your first kid is one or two and save until your youngest kid is heading to middle school! Some are expensive, but I think the fact that you can keep them around for many years gives them a lot of bang for their buck! 

So, here are my top 10 recommendations. This post contains affiliate links where noted. That means when you purchase through my link, I receive a small amount of money, at no additional cost to you! Thanks so much for supporting The Lean Green Bean!

10 Best Toys for Multiple Ages

Nugget Comfort

We got this last Christmas and have used it daily since. I even have a whole Instagram highlight of different ways we’ve used it. It’s great for obstacle courses, forts, watching tv, saving your couch cushions, monster truck ramps, and endless other things!

Magna-Tiles  *aff link*

I always recommend people splurge on the name brand ones because I feel they work the best…and also splurge on the 100 pack because you’re going to want as many pieces as possible. But if you’re on a budget, Picasso brand works fine too and they do work with Magna-Tiles – we have some of each kind and use them together. I also recommend a magnetic board to build on (aff link). If you’re on a budget you can use an old cookie sheet!

  Duplos  *aff link*

I recommend these for ages 2+. Megabloks (aff link) are great for the first year or two and around age 4, they can move on to the smaller Legos…but duplos are great for those middle years. My 2-year-old can play with these and i think they stick together better than Megabloks, and my almost 5-year-old still plays with them even those he also likes the smaller ones.

  Jumbo Cardboard Blocks *aff link*

These are a little annoying to put together but you only have to do it once…and then you’ll have a great stash of sturdy cardboard blocks that the kids will love to build with, knock down, crash into, jump over etc!

Ultimate Fort Builder

We have this one from Lakeshore Learning and love it. This Crazy Forts one on Amazon is similar. (aff link). These are easy to snap together. The only thing to consider is that to make some of the designs in the booklet that comes with it, the red connectors need to be oriented a certain way (there are arrows on them) so I often need to help my kids (almost 3 & 5) set them up. If they just want to build a big square or rectangle, or their own design, they can connect them however they want.

Wooden train tracks *aff link*

Most of the wooden tracks – Brio, Obrium, Melissa and Doug etc are interchangeable so I’d look for whichever brand you can find the best deal on and you can add more later! You can set them up in endless patterns and can easily add to your first set to make longer and more complex tracks. They’re also great for traveling. I always pack a ziploc bag full in my suitcase with a few trains because you can set them up anywhere.

Play kitchen *aff link*

There are tons of different models out there so you can browse around and find a design you love, one to fit your decor etc. We got ours when my oldest turned 1 and all my kids still play with it daily. I highly recommend adding some food,  this shopping cart and cash register to the mix as well (aff links). And then you can save your food and diaper boxes and set up your own grocery store like I did here. 

Doll House *aff link*

I found mine on FB marketplace…a great place to look for any of this stuff, but both my older kids use it. I’ve found it’s a common thing to have in preschool classrooms and both of my kids started playing with ours at home more after they were introduced to it at school.

Occupational toys and dress-up clothes

My kids love their doctor kit and all of their dress up clothes (order slightly big so they can grow into them and use for multiple years). They also love their pretend tools, cleaning supplies and explorer set (binoculars, compass, flashlight, etc). *aff links*

Obstacle course equipment 

In addition to our Nugget, we also use a balance beam and floor dots to make homemade obstacle courses. You could also add rings, cones and bean bags!

I had some other best toys for multiple ages that didn’t make my top ten and I also posed the question to my audience on Instagram and got some great suggestions so here are a few more ideas!

Sensory/Fine Motor

Playdough – use it by itself, give them some scissors or butter knives to cut it with, use a rolling pin and cookie cutters etc

Sensory bins – fill them with kinetic sand, water beads, dried beans or noodles, water, scoops, cups, spoons etc and let them go to town

Whiteboard and dry erase markers

Spray bottles

Water/Sand table

*aff links*

Arts and Crafts:

Pipe cleaners

Clothespins

Straws

Pom poms

Washable paint

Balloons

Popsicle sticks

Paint Brushes  

Kwik Stixs Solid Tempera Paints – perfect for when you need something bolder than a marker but want it to dry quicker than regular paint

Do A Dot Art! Markers

Glue Sticks – I like the disappearing purple ones because they can easily see where they’ve spread the glue

Markers

Crayons

Butcher Paper – for me this is so much easier than single sheets of paper because you can tear off as much or as little as you want each time

Construction paper

Scissors

Hole punches

Hot Glue Gun – to be used by parents of course

Stamps

*aff links*

Physical Activity

Mini trampoline

Bounce house

Roller coaster

Scooters

*aff links*

General

Vehicles – dump trucks, cars, construction vehicles, hot wheels…anything with wheels that you can build roads/garages/houses for

Puzzles

Balls

Wooden blocks

Dolls and barbies

Little people and toy animals/dinos

Marble Run (aff link)

Board games

Want to save these ideas? Pin this post for later!

Enjoy! –Lindsay–

Need more ideas? Check out these Toddler Gift Ideas geared at ages 1-3.

First found here: Best Toys for Multiple Ages

[jansen1107]

Trick-or-Treating (Kinda) in Cuba

I recently returned from a trip to Cuba. I had a wonderful time. Cuba is a beautiful and poor country where the absence of American influence is immediately noticeable and welcome. Called The Forbidden Tour, the theme of this trip was things haunted, spooky, and horror. Okay,… it was really just an excuse for we American tourists to take advantage of a group tour to Cuba while we still have the chance—Donald Trump is working tirelessly to close the door that was opened by Barack Obama. I’m glad our group got in when we did, and while we were there, we knew we were in a window of opportunity that would soon be shut to Americans. And, really, out of nothing more than spite. Sad.

I’ve been on five or six of these haunted horror trips. My friend Charles is the organizer, and his company is based in Connecticut. He keeps dreaming up new tours we can do, which gives us an excuse to go to new countries. Cuba is not really known for its haunted sites, but we found a few. The bunkers at the National Hotel in Havana offered some serious pings on Charles’s ghost-hunting app. We also toured Castillo de Jagua, an old fort that was made of mortar using animal blood and that is believed to be haunted by a “woman in blue.” Supposedly, her bones were excavated during a renovation and are now on display in the castle’s chapel under a thin sheet of plexiglass.

I was also humbled and honored to be a guest at an actual Santeria ceremony. The unsettling part of the ceremony was the noticeable pig’s head at the back of the room and a large plastic bucket that looked like it had the remains of a dog in it. From what I understand, Santerians practice animal sacrifice, and being a vegetarian and an animal lover, I’m not sure how I feel about that. I have tremendous respect for people of all faiths, but on some things, I’ll have to agree to disagree.

The Santerians were incredibly generous and offered us shots of black coffee with sugar, plates of pineapple and watermelon, bags of popcorn, and even gift bags with incense sticks, cigars, a tea candle, a paper cone of what I think is either incense or possibly dried beans, and a chalk seashell. The English-speaking priest asked us if we’d be interested in buying plastic baby dolls in custom Santerian outfits that were supposedly imbued with magical energy or spirits. I declined (even though I’m a toy collector), but now I regret it because they didn’t ask for donations at the end of the ceremony, and selling the dolls was probably a source of income for them.

Our group danced with the Santerians as men played drums at the front of the room and one man sang in a beautiful voice, calling out to the congregation and being answered in kind. I really worked up a sweat and felt the energy in the room. Two women had to be escorted from the dance area when it was clear they were possessed of the spirit. In Santeria, the spirits or orishas ride the dancers and possess them. Instead of being frightened, I was awed. It was a humbling experience to be part of it all.  

Other sites we saw included the grand cemetery in Havana, which is the largest urban cemetery in the world. We actually lost an older man from our group and had to organize a search party, fearing he had passed out from the heat somewhere in the forest of mausoleums. Being a loner, he had a penchant for going off on his own, but I finally spotted him on his way toward us on an avenue that was being used for a military drill. Phew! That was the most unpleasant scare on the trip.

Havana is beautiful. I had the opportunity to ride “the oldies”; antique cars from the ‘50s and ‘60s that have been kept in good condition since they were made and are now used mainly as cabs for tourists. Riding along the beautiful Malecon seawall was like a dream and a reminder that my heart belongs in seaside towns.  

The people of Havana were stoic and thoroughly unimpressed with Americans, which was both humbling and relieving. It was nice to walk around and not be stared at, even if we looked like goths in our dark clothes, T-shirts with ouija board prints, and (gasp!) facial hair! Everyone looked the same in terms of clothing to me, and I was longing for just one or two university students to come walking along with brightly colored hair… or piercings… or a mohawk. It never happened while I was there. The whole country was so understated. The only billboards were those advertising propaganda. There were no logos or ads jumping in our faces at every turn, and it was hard to know if we were looking at a restaurant or a copy center from the outside. It felt like the whole country was a speakeasy.

And not a single Starbucks in sight! Hallelujah! Although I did have my traveling companions doubled over with laughter when I asked the barista at the National Museum’s snack shop (in a whiny valley girl voice), “Can I get a venti caramel macchiato? I haven’t had a caramel macchiato in days, okay? I am so dying right now.” Of course, the request went way over his head, and he made me a frozen lemonade, one of only about three beverages on offer. It was delicious.

My friend Krys and I got up at 6:15 to run 4 miles on several mornings. We loved watching the sun come up as we ran down by the water. Commuters were out waiting for the unreliable buses even at that early hour. We said, “Hola,” to many of them as we passed, and the Cubans were very friendly. Watching the sun come up as we ran on those early mornings reminded me how beautiful this life can be.

Cuba is one of those places where you can actually use your rudimentary Spanish and not get an eye roll, like you do when you’re in Europe—where everyone is fluent in English and doesn’t have time for you to struggle with verb conjugation. I was pleasantly surprised to see that my four years of high school Spanish and subsequent years of reading the language and eavesdropping has made me decidedly conversant. I was able to help my friend Lynn find a souvenir map of Cuba at the airport, told the cashier in a grocery store that Cuban coffee is reputed to be among the best in the world, and had a conversation with a man in front of the National Theater about how he’s happy to see tourists but the government takes all the tourist dollars… speaking of which, could I spare a peso or two and maybe a couple bars of soap?

We Americans are spoiled for choice, and it’s something you take for granted until you walk into a Cuban grocery store and see only two choices of coffee, three choices of shampoo, and hear rumors that a shipment of Gouda cheese can cause a near run on the store. Some of our group complained that hotel cleaning staff were stealing toiletries. I don’t think this was due to need so much as an actual hunger for choice. At one stop, a man asked me if I had Ivory soap on me, something rare in Cuba. It’s human nature to want choice and variety in all things, and we Americans don’t know how lucky we are.

And that brings me to the part of my story about the kids. In our emails prior to the trip, Charles recommended that we bring cheap toys and toiletries to hand out to the Cubans. The weekend before leaving, I went around to the dollar stores in my neighborhood picking up bars of soap, cheap Barbie knock-offs, coloring books, crayons, pencils, Matchbox cars, and Pez dispensers. It seemed like every time we ran into a group of school kids, my goodies were stowed in my suitcase under the bus where I couldn’t access them. It happened outside Hemingway’s house and again outside Castillo de Jagua. Just seeing the looks on the kid’s faces was priceless. Finally, I got smart and started carrying my goodies around in a canvas tote bag with the tour logo on the front. I was like a wide-eyed, maniacal Santa Claus on the lookout for kids.   When we got to the National Theater, I spied a little boy with no shirt on and a pair of shorts hanging out in front of a restaurant. He must have been about five or six. I was across the street and couldn’t get to him in time because he disappeared when I crossed. I was heartened that some tourists walking by handed him a green tennis ball before I could get to him.

A few minutes later, I spied a little girl holding the hand of a man who I assumed to be her grandfather. Quickly, I reached into my bag and handed her one of the knock-off Barbies. I’ll never forget the look on her face! Her mouth formed a little “o” and her eyebrows shot up. Isn’t it the best feeling in the world to make kids happy? I had read reports that girls actually line up on the playground to play with a single Barbie doll. And I think that sucks!

As I continued walking with my group, I looked back and saw that the girl and her grandfather had stopped. She then came running back to me with the doll. I shouted to her, “¡Es tuyo! ¡Es tuyo! (It’s yours! It’s yours!)”, thinking she was bringing the doll back to me because her grandfather wanted to teach her a lesson in modesty. Boy, was I ever wrong! She pointed to the other two dolls sticking out of the top of my bag and said that she wanted those, too! I obliged. So, now she either has a whole set of new dolls for herself or she’s going to give the others to her sister(s) or classmates. I admired her enterprising spirit!

The rest of my goodies went quickly. It gave me such a great feeling to hand out each item. The girl on her dad’s shoulders who cheered when I handed her a coloring book and a box of crayons. The little boy who shyly turned away from me when I handed him an Optimus Prime Pez dispenser. (His mother assured him it was okay.) The parents were always so appreciative. But that little boy who got away will always stay with me. I send you positive vibes, little man!

At the end of the week, our group customarily has a costume ball where we get dressed up and compete for prizes. Although I won “Crowd Favorite” on our last trip to Germany and Prague, my Spring-Heeled Jack costume was an utter failure. No one knew who I was supposed to be. I decided not to wear makeup with it because it was so hot and muggy. You won’t find many pictures of me in our shared group photos. I think I just weirded everyone out in my skeleton shirt, bat cape, and cut-up rubber Batman mask. (I was having flashbacks to a similar experience when I was a child.) No matter. I’ll wear the costume again for Halloween and then retire it. I love the character and was glad to wear him in costume form.

So, that was my haunted mystery tour to Cuba! What an amazing time. It’s sad to think that if you’re an American and are reading this, you might not have the chance to visit Cuba for a while. The Trump administration is moving quickly to slam that door shut. And thereby taking away one of our freedoms. “Make America Great Again,” he says? My advice is to get there this year (2017). If you’re interested, Charles is offering the tour again next year, if Americans can still travel to Cuba. But the next trip will be more of a tour for music and food than a horror tour. Tropicana and Buena Vista Social Club were some music venues we got to enjoy, and I highly recommend you check them out if you’re in Havana.

And be sure to bring lots of toys for the kids!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RMhS5Xt_sRE&list=PLPd7HOSqosr5QPRTrdJiwt9dVaFmz7UpF

[wellpersonsblog]

Best Toys for Multiple Ages

Look for the best toys for multiple ages? Here’s a roundup of toys that all of my kids have played with for many years. They’re great for entertaining a wide range of ages and perfect for keeping siblings entertained!

  Hi friends!

Last week, I did a little Q&A over on my Instagram stories and someone asked me for a list of toys that all of my kids play with. The holidays are approaching and lots of people have gift-giving on the brain. I had a few toys that immediately came to mind, but I also decided to ask my audience for their suggestions. With their help, I came up with a great list of the best toys for multiple ages. 

These are forever toys. The ones you can buy when your first kid is one or two and save until your youngest kid is heading to middle school! Some are expensive, but I think the fact that you can keep them around for many years gives them a lot of bang for their buck! 

So, here are my top 10 recommendations. This post contains affiliate links where noted. That means when you purchase through my link, I receive a small amount of money, at no additional cost to you! Thanks so much for supporting The Lean Green Bean!

10 Best Toys for Multiple Ages

Nugget Comfort

We got this last Christmas and have used it daily since. I even have a whole Instagram highlight of different ways we’ve used it. It’s great for obstacle courses, forts, watching tv, saving your couch cushions, monster truck ramps, and endless other things!

Magna-Tiles  *aff link*

I always recommend people splurge on the name brand ones because I feel they work the best…and also splurge on the 100 pack because you’re going to want as many pieces as possible. But if you’re on a budget, Picasso brand works fine too and they do work with Magna-Tiles – we have some of each kind and use them together. I also recommend a magnetic board to build on (aff link). If you’re on a budget you can use an old cookie sheet!

  Duplos  *aff link*

I recommend these for ages 2+. Megabloks (aff link) are great for the first year or two and around age 4, they can move on to the smaller Legos…but duplos are great for those middle years. My 2-year-old can play with these and i think they stick together better than Megabloks, and my almost 5-year-old still plays with them even those he also likes the smaller ones.

  Jumbo Cardboard Blocks *aff link*

These are a little annoying to put together but you only have to do it once…and then you’ll have a great stash of sturdy cardboard blocks that the kids will love to build with, knock down, crash into, jump over etc!

Ultimate Fort Builder

We have this one from Lakeshore Learning and love it. This Crazy Forts one on Amazon is similar. (aff link). These are easy to snap together. The only thing to consider is that to make some of the designs in the booklet that comes with it, the red connectors need to be oriented a certain way (there are arrows on them) so I often need to help my kids (almost 3 & 5) set them up. If they just want to build a big square or rectangle, or their own design, they can connect them however they want.

Wooden train tracks *aff link*

Most of the wooden tracks – Brio, Obrium, Melissa and Doug etc are interchangeable so I’d look for whichever brand you can find the best deal on and you can add more later! You can set them up in endless patterns and can easily add to your first set to make longer and more complex tracks. They’re also great for traveling. I always pack a ziploc bag full in my suitcase with a few trains because you can set them up anywhere.

Play kitchen *aff link*

There are tons of different models out there so you can browse around and find a design you love, one to fit your decor etc. We got ours when my oldest turned 1 and all my kids still play with it daily. I highly recommend adding some food,  this shopping cart and cash register to the mix as well (aff links). And then you can save your food and diaper boxes and set up your own grocery store like I did here. 

Doll House *aff link*

I found mine on FB marketplace…a great place to look for any of this stuff, but both my older kids use it. I’ve found it’s a common thing to have in preschool classrooms and both of my kids started playing with ours at home more after they were introduced to it at school.

Occupational toys and dress-up clothes

My kids love their doctor kit and all of their dress up clothes (order slightly big so they can grow into them and use for multiple years). They also love their pretend tools, cleaning supplies and explorer set (binoculars, compass, flashlight, etc). *aff links*

Obstacle course equipment 

In addition to our Nugget, we also use a balance beam and floor dots to make homemade obstacle courses. You could also add rings, cones and bean bags!

I had some other best toys for multiple ages that didn’t make my top ten and I also posed the question to my audience on Instagram and got some great suggestions so here are a few more ideas!

Sensory/Fine Motor

Playdough – use it by itself, give them some scissors or butter knives to cut it with, use a rolling pin and cookie cutters etc

Sensory bins – fill them with kinetic sand, water beads, dried beans or noodles, water, scoops, cups, spoons etc and let them go to town

Whiteboard and dry erase markers

Spray bottles

Water/Sand table

*aff links*

Arts and Crafts:

Pipe cleaners

Clothespins

Straws

Pom poms

Washable paint

Balloons

Popsicle sticks

Paint Brushes  

Kwik Stixs Solid Tempera Paints – perfect for when you need something bolder than a marker but want it to dry quicker than regular paint

Do A Dot Art! Markers

Glue Sticks – I like the disappearing purple ones because they can easily see where they’ve spread the glue

Markers

Crayons

Butcher Paper – for me this is so much easier than single sheets of paper because you can tear off as much or as little as you want each time

Construction paper

Scissors

Hole punches

Hot Glue Gun – to be used by parents of course

Stamps

*aff links*

Physical Activity

Mini trampoline

Bounce house

Roller coaster

Scooters

*aff links*

General

Vehicles – dump trucks, cars, construction vehicles, hot wheels…anything with wheels that you can build roads/garages/houses for

Puzzles

Balls

Wooden blocks

Dolls and barbies

Little people and toy animals/dinos

Marble Run (aff link)

Board games

Want to save these ideas? Pin this post for later!

Enjoy! –Lindsay–

Need more ideas? Check out these Toddler Gift Ideas geared at ages 1-3.

First found here: Best Toys for Multiple Ages