#I rolled up to this q&a expecting a full house but it was only FIFTEEN PEOPLE and they put the stools right in front of us instead of on

[myfriendtheghost]

goodnight goober

[shotgun--rider]

Rumor

A Jensen x Reader oneshot

Y/N’s never considered how many suspiciously snuggly photos there are of her and her best friend. Then they all come out in a Buzzfeed article, published just in time for everyone to grill her during her solo panel. Now what?

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: Really dumb fluff, everyone’s anxious, Jared and Briana are sick of everyone’s shit

A/N: This is dumb and fluffy and dangerously song-fic territory but it showed up and demanded to be written so here you go. I have no idea if this is actually any good. Enjoy?

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You were the epitome of normal, growing up. You had decent grades, run-of-the-mill hobbies, and an average high school cashier job. You could hop on your bike (and later, borrow your parents’ car) and take yourself to the coffee shop, or to a friend’s, and the only people that  would look twice at you were drivers checking to make sure the kid on the bike didn’t steer into traffic. 

You didn’t win any “most likely to” awards in the yearbook, your college major was undecided for an embarrassing length of time, and your 300-odd Instagram followers were comprised of friends and some polite acquaintances from welcome week. And you didn’t mind. You were perfectly happy to go through your day-to-day without turning heads and making waves. 

That was all before you’d answered an open casting call on a whim, strapped for cash and mostly there because a sparkly website proclaiming “50 Easy Side Hustles!” had suggested spending your weekends as an extra if you lived in a big filming city. Before your three-episode contract in a show you’d never bothered to watch turned into a series regular.

Now, you’re pretty much guaranteed to have your face splashed across the internet every time you stick a toe off the end of your L.A. property line. Even if the paparazzi aren’t there to get you in Page Six with some wildly exaggerated nonsense, a fan somewhere will snap a blurry photo and upload it somewhere for people to shout about you in the comments section. You’ve never gotten used to being tagged in edits of your own face, or watching your follower count creep steadily upwards. You’re just… you. You’ve always been just the normal, average girl from a nothing-special hometown.  

Even after your third year running on Supernatural, you still forget. You still make it all the way to the end of the block before you remember that the person shouting your name is the bodyguard you accidentally abandoned two errands ago. You still get confused when the restaurant wait staff stares at you, still get annoyed calls from your publicist begging you to at least try to appear in fewer coffee shop paparazzi pictures looking like a disgruntled zombie who’s never seen a hairbrush. (Sue you, you can’t be expected to be functional before a cup of coffee.)

You’re a brilliant actress, an unexpected fan-favorite, relatable to everyone in your autograph line...and you’re kind of a terrible celebrity. Unlike certain child models turned actors straight at 18 you may know, this isn’t a world you were trained in. Which is probably why it doesn’t even occur to you that being caught frequently in the company of your best friend might look like something until you’re staring at your own name in a headline on your phone screen, in line at Starbucks before your first panel of the con weekend. 

Y/N L/N’s Secret Relationship With Co-Star Jensen Ackles, howls the bold-printed headline, and you blink stupidly at the letters, uncomprehending, until you realize that someone’s trying to get your attention. “Sorry, what?”

The barista looks impatient, suppressing an eyeroll and starting her spiel before cutting off halfway with a squeak. “Oh, my god, you’re her! I’m sorry, I’m just… you’re literally my favorite!” She’s blushing and stuttering and has a near-death grip on the empty coffee cup she was preparing to write your name on. 

“Oh,” you reply, forcing the fog of confusion from your brain and slapping on a smile. “Hi, you caught me.”

“Can I...um…” the girl reaches into her back pocket and sheepishly produces her cell phone, complete with a flaming pentagram case. “Um, selfie?”

You smile indulgently, leaning over the counter. The fans are one of the best parts, really, and it’s never a hardship to make someone smile. (That is, when they’re not selling rumors and lies to the tabloids, you think grumpily.)

The barista girl pulls back with a wide smile and a full-face blush, and keeps glancing shyly up at you while she punches in your usual order, plus the second coffee Jensen texted you this morning to beg for. “So I guess Jensen’s around here too, then, right?” she asks perkily, taking your card. 

“Uh...sorry, what?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious. “Since you flew in together,”

You blink rapidly, feeling stupid. You’re obviously missing the punchline somewhere. “We, uh...didn’t. I mean...I flew out of L.A.,” you say cautiously. Your home city is already public knowledge, as is the fact that Jensen lives in Austin, and you can’t imagine she doesn’t know this. 

Her eyes pop wide with curiosity. “Wait, so you’re not staying with him?”

This conversation is too much for your poor, jetlagged, coffeeless brain. “No?” you try weakly, so far past confused at this point that you might actually be getting a headache. “Why would I…” 

Not that Jensen’s Austin house isn’t lovely, and not that you’d object to staying there, and not that you haven’t stayed there plenty of times before, but you’re pretty sure you’re still missing the point. 

The barista lunges forward over the counter, leaning in to ask in a hushed voice, “Did you guys break up?”

An emphatic “No!” leaves your mouth so loudly that the old man in line behind you starts grumbling. “No, you don’t--” 

“Get a move on,” Old Man grouches in the background. “I don’t care who you are,”

“Oh, good,” the girl cuts you off with a relieved grin. “You guys are so cute, you know? I mean, I kinda figured you had to have something going on, but actually seeing it--it’s going to be so much cuter if Dean and Sierra ever kiss now, oh my god--”

She devolves into a squeal, and the we’re not actually dating dies on your tongue. You have better things to do this morning than correct the misinformation of one teenage barista, so you end up just shaking your head and taking the two cups of coffee wearily. “Right, well, I’ve gotta go, so--” you duck around the old man and beeline for the door before anyone can say anything else. Oh, god, your publicist is so going to kill you. 

***

Jared and Jensen are both in the green room when you make it back to the convention hotel, and you groan softly as you walk into the room. Once Jared hears about your so-called relationship, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Then again, better he hear it from you than find it in the tabloids. May as well bite the bullet now before it comes up in a Q&A. 

“Hey,” you slide up to Jensen’s elbow, holding out the requested coffee cup as a preemptive truce. “So, we’re apparently dating now,” 

Jensen snorts, shaking his head and swapping the coffee cup into his other hand so he can wrap his arm around your shoulders in greeting. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“I think I may have given a barista the impression we’ve had a tumultuous breakup,” you say ruefully, tilting your head up to look at him in apology. “Sorry,”

Jensen’s green eyes are dancing, though, and he throws back his head and laughs, still keeping you tucked close enough that you can feel his whole body shake. “Of course you did, sweetheart,”

It’s pretty much the reaction you expected from Jensen, who’s so used to your antics at this point that he just gives you a fond smile and moves on to damage control. Jared, on the other hand, is...not commenting, and suspicion cuts short your quiet enjoyment of being hugged against Jensen. It took the boys a while to feel comfortable messing with you when you first got on set, but after they figured out you gave as good as you got, they’d never yet missed an opportunity to tease and prank you. 

You squint at Jared warily. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Jared’s lips immediately start twitching, but he makes a valiant attempt at a mock-concerned face. “Oh shit, sorry. Here, tell me again and I’ll pretend like I’m surprised this time,”

Unwilling to bother unwinding yourself from under Jensen’s arm, you extend a childish foot in the direction of Jared’s shins, scowling at him. He dodges easily, laughing, and tosses out, “Someone should really tell Buzzfeed they’re reporting really old news,”

“Shut up and drink your damn coffee, Padalecki,” you shoot back without any real venom.

“Oh, you mean my hotel coffee? The coffee I got stuck with because you only buy Starbucks for Jensen?”

Jensen straightens up proudly, no doubt making a face at Jared over the top of your head. “Y/N just likes me better. That’s why she’s my best friend.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under Jensen’s arm and a few steps away. “You both suck,” you deadpan, resisting an internal wince at the friendzone. “Now shut up and let me drink my coffee, I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes,” 

And God, but your head is way too scrambled for a panel right now. Fifteen minutes is nowhere close to enough time to get your shit together, and you’re going to have to somehow walk out there and not let everyone know. 

You take a seat halfway across the room, watching Jared and Jensen still standing there, heads bowed together, arguing quietly about something. Jensen’s starting to wear an annoyed expression and he still manages to look beautiful and goddamnit this is how you got in trouble in the first place. 

You scroll listlessly through your phone, a headache beginning behind your eyes, and freeze when you realize that you left the damn article open. The headline photo is a picture of you and Jensen on a sidewalk in L.A., caught mid-conversation with Jensen’s hand on your back and a stupid, dopey look on your face while you stare up at him like he hung the moon. Fuck, you’re an idiot. 

A hasty scroll through the rest of the article reveals more of the same, and you could kick yourself for making your dumb crush so obvious. The photo captions are practically mocking you, labelled with things like “an intimate evening for Ackles and L/N” and, under a picture of the two of you at a beach, “We might be a little mad that the two most attractive people are together”. 

Well, at least now you know what every single question at your panel is going to be about. And somehow you have to figure out how to play this off like it’s nothing. Of course I don’t have a crush the size of a mid-sized whale on Jensen, hahaha, that’s such a hilarious idea! 

Your only saving grace is that clearly, Jensen doesn’t think anything of it. It’s nothing more than a brief joke to him and Jared, and as much as that should bring you relief, it still stings to know that he’s obviously never bothered to think of you that way. And why would he? For all Buzzfeed’s nonsense about you making an attractive couple, Jensen Ackles miles above your league. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Misha sitting down next to you, an easy smile on his face as he nudges your shoulder with his own. “So, welcome to the club,”

Typically, you and Misha are pretty close friends, but your patience is too short this morning for any of his shit. “What club?” you shoot back grumpily. 

“People who the internet have declared in love with Jensen Ackles,” Misha returns, grinning like it’s obvious. 

“Ha, ha. See, except when that happens to you, people think it’s funny,”

“It is funny,”

“Not for me!” you explode, belatedly wincing at your harsh tone. “You and Jensen fuck around on stage and that works for you. If I don’t get my shit together in the next five minutes, I’m getting my name dragged through stupid tabloids and laughed straight off the show because I couldn’t keep my goddamn stupid pathetic crush under control!”

“Hey,” Misha waits until you meet his blue eyes. “That’s not going to happen. Okay? It’s not,”

“Misha--”

“Y/N,” Misha returns firmly. “It’s going to be okay. Jensen would never let anything happen to you. And you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

You sigh softly, nodding. Rationally, you know he’s right. But mostly, as much as you’re worked up about the panel, your fear is that Jensen is going to be the one laughing at you, and you don’t know how to explain that. “Yeah,” you say dully, just as a convention worker comes forward to collect you. 

“If it’s really going to shit, I’ll come distract everyone,”

“Somehow, I think that would be worse,” you shoot back over your shoulder as you start walking to the stage. Breathe, Y/N. You’re fine. 

You wait for the introductions to finish and take your place on the stage, a slightly breathy laugh escaping into the mic as you look out at the crowd. That is a lot of eyes watching your every move. And they’re on your side, you remind yourself. It’s the fans who’ve been tireless supporters of you and your character, this whole time. 

“Hey, guys,” you clear your throat. “What’s up?”

You chatter for a while about whatever you can think of, telling an edited version of the grumpy Starbucks man this morning and rambling a little about Jared’s latest on-set antics. All too quickly, though, you run out of things to say, leaving you with no choice but to ask for questions. 

At first, to your great relief, they’re pretty tame. You spend a solid few minutes breaking down Sierra’s latest character arc, and the time she’s spending hunting on her own. You do get a few questions about whether she and Dean could get together when she gets back with the brothers, but as long as it stays firmly in the realm of your characters, you’re not worried. 

“And what’s your name?” You ask gently, trying to reassure the nervous young woman at the microphone. 

“Uh, Y/N…”

“I love that name!” you wink at her, rearranging yourself in the chair to be more comfortable. “What do you want to know, Y/N?”

“Uh,” she stutters, her face blushing pink. “You’re my favorite actress, and, I, um,”

“That’s very sweet,” you interject, nodding to encourage her. 

“I just, uh, really want good things for you, and I just wanted to ask if, um, areyoureallydatingJensen?” she spits out all in one breath. “Cause you deserve him,”

You blink, shifting in your seat. You’d arrived at the elephant in the room. Damn. 

“Uh,” escapes your mouth as you frantically try to construct a diplomatic sentence. “No, actually, no, we’re not.” I wish. “The, um, the article was a surprise to us too!” You added a little shrug in as punctuation, trying to play it off. 

“But you guys look so cute together!” Other Y/N exclaims. “He looks at you like--” she cuts off, biting her lip so hard you can see the white from the stage. “Nevermind. Sorry.” 

“No worries,” you assure her casually, like you’re not dying to know what she was going to say. “Next question?”

The next one up is another young woman, this time much bolder in her question. “But if you were given the opportunity, would you date Jensen Ackles?” 

God, Chuck, literally anyone please kill me. “I don’t know how to answer this without getting in trouble,” you finally laugh nervously. “This is a dangerous question,”

The audience all laughs loudly, some of them throwing out comments and suggestions. “In the interests of not getting killed in my bed tonight,” you say lightly when they’ve quieted. “I’m going to skip that question,”

There’s really no saving you, though. After that first question, it’s like a dam has broken and everyone wants to know about your relationship with Jensen. What do you think of his house in Austin and does he cook for you and what do you do between takes and where’s your favorite place to go together. Someone even asks if you’re hooking up even if you’re not dating, which you’re positive turns your face completely purple before you get through redirecting that fan. 

An hour later, you stagger off the stage mentally exhausted and thoroughly grumpy. 

“Ouch,” Briana sympathizes, sliding up beside you as you grab a water bottle in the green room. 

“Can’t wait for my dumb red face to trend on Tumblr,” you mutter, wondering darkly if you could just jump out one of the windows. 

Briana laughs like she knows something you don’t, and rubs a hand over your back soothingly. “Come on, let’s get you out of your head before your photos,”

The two of you end up on a walk a few blocks from the convention hotel, fresh coffees in hand and Briana chattering away while you nod along. It’s not that you’re tuning her out, exactly, you’re just...overwhelmed. You do, however, notice when she stops talking. 

“Are you listening to me?” she looks at you sharply.

“Sorry, B,” you mumble. “Got distracted. What?”

Briana shakes her head with loving exasperation. “I asked what you’re wearing to karaoke tonight,”

“I’m probably not going to--” you start.

“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t leave me there alone,” Briana interrupts, folding her arms across her chest. 

“What do you mean, alone? Kim and Rich and literally everyone will be there,”

“You are not allowed to skip karaoke.” Briana says firmly, and you suddenly know how her daughter must feel when she’s misbehaved. “Besides, Jensen’s singing with Louden Swain beforehand. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Fine. But I’m wearing this,” you gesture to your plain black top and jeans. To be honest, you’re not sure if you actually do want to see Jensen perform, or bother with the rest of karaoke night. Mostly you just want to crawl into bed and put the covers over your head and pretend that you haven’t been making a fool of yourself all morning, but Briana is a force of nature when she wants something. 

She smiles excitedly at your acquiescence, pulling out her phone for a moment to type something before you start heading back. 

You nudge her teasingly with your elbow. “Your phone more exciting than me?”

Briana just slides it away hastily before you can read more than Jared’s name over her shoulder. “Just taking care of something.”

There’s something she’s not telling you, but you don’t feel like digging right now. You’re just focusing on getting to the end of this convention without spilling all your secrets and looking like an idiot. 

By the time you’re sitting down in the seats for Louden Swain’s set, your face is indeed all over Tumblr. (You always deny having the stupid app, but sometimes a girl’s gotta know what people are saying about her and her hot costars.) There’s comments full of stupid speculation that you’re hiding your relationship, including a whole thread about how you’re clearly hiding your secret threesome with Jensen and Misha. Great. 

“Uh, okay,” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Jensen’s on stage in front of the microphone, holding his guitar. “This was not part of my original plan, so...if this goes badly, it’s all Jared and Briana’s fault.”

The crowd laughs good-naturedly as your gaze snaps immediately to Briana. Infuriatingly, your friend just shrugs. 

“This is a cover of a song neither of us wrote,” Jensen continues, gesturing between himself and Louden Swain behind him. “But I thought it could be fitting,”

He’s nervous, you realize, watching the way he’s fiddling with his guitar strap while he talks. But you have no idea what he’s doing. And you have no idea why he didn’t tell you. The two of you always know what stupid thing the other person is planning, especially stunts in front of the fans. But clearly not this time. With a sinking sense of dread, you wonder if maybe he does hate you a little bit after today, and that article. Maybe that’s why he’s not talking to you. You swallow hard against the sting in your throat, and Jensen starts playing. 

The opening chords are definitely from a country song you vaguely recognize from the radio, and you wonder why this is Jensen’s choice over one of his own songs. 

“Girl, you know I've known you forever / How many nights we hung out together,”

Across the room, Briana has an enormous smile on her face.

“My boys are laughing and tap me on the shoulder / Making a motion like, ‘Could y'all get any closer?’” He punctuates the words with a little scowl in Jared’s direction. 

“There's a rumor going 'round about me and you / Stirring up our little town the last week or two / So tell me why we even trying to deny this feeling / I feel it, don't you feel it too? / There's a rumor going 'round, and 'round, and 'round / What d'you say we make it true?”

There are a lot of people suddenly making noise around you as they come to the same realization that you are, but you’re frozen in your seat. The rumor is you. He’s talking about you. Jensen’s singing for you. And you should be elated but your mind is stuck on a loop of what the fuck there’s no way this is real. 

You don’t even realize that the song is over until everyone is clapping and you’re still stuck staring with embarrassingly wide eyes, Jensen up on stage with an embarrassed dusting of red across his face and a slowly deflating expression. 

“Hey,” Jared’s elbow digs hard into your ribs suddenly. “Please do something. I can’t take any more of him like this,”

“What--oh--shit!” spills out of your mouth as you stand hastily, your phone tumbling off your lap. “I’m just gonna--”

By some miracle, you make it through the crush of people and around to the backstage area, your heart racing unevenly in your chest. You have no idea what you’re supposed to say, or if Jensen will be there, or if you’re even interpreting this right. Maybe it’s all just wishful thinking. No, Jared wouldn’t have encouraged you if that were true. Would he?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you end up plowing straight into Jensen’s chest, his arm sliding automatically around your waist as you wobble off balance. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

He steadies you, green eyes searching your face with a flicker of vulnerability. “Hey,”

“Hey,” you whisper back. You have no idea what happens now.

With his free hand, Jensen rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, if that was too much--”

“No!” you shake your head quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just...processing. I...it was really sweet, Jen,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I just… me? Are you sure?”

“Why not you?” Jensen’s face wrinkles in confusion. He moves both hands to your waist, the warmth of his skin bleeding through your thin shirt as he tugs you closer. “Y/N,” 

There’s something in you screaming that you might not get to do this again, that he’s going to come to his senses, that the whole thing is a dream, and before you can second guess yourself you launch yourself up onto your tiptoes and kiss him. 

Your arms go around his neck while Jensen wraps you up tighter against his chest and it’s not fireworks, or earth shattering, or anything so dramatic. His mouth moving against yours just feels like home and love and of course. Of course you were going to get here, of course it was going to be like this. 

Jensen lifts you off your feet for a moment before breaking the kiss, and he looks just breathless and flushed enough that you’re equal parts proud and turned on. 

“Of course it’s you,” he murmurs, one hand under your chin to tilt your head up to him. “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend.”

------

Something ate my taglist! If you want to be tagged, please message me!

[jadestell-blog]

This past Christmas was a tough day for me. I found that I have expectations about the holiday that are very much built up around gifts and family. Neither one are really all that bad but I think much of my life is spent living in a dream world and when reality hits, it hits hard. 

Every year as the Christmas season rolls in, I spend countless hours researching, planning, thinking up, and creating gifts for friends and family. Gift giving is one of my favorite things to do. I think sometimes I like giving gifts more than people like receiving them. Most of the time, I can come up with something really great for everyone on my Christmas list except for that one person every year: My husband. Without a doubt, Quintin is the hardest person for me to give gifts to. His love language has nothing to do with gifts. He would much rather spent time together doing something fun than to receive something that is going to sit on a shelf and collect dust. So, knowing that, it should be easy right? Well, not so much. Even knowing that about Q, I am still tempted to gift him with something tangible, something I can wrap. And even when I try to give gifts of quality time I am so self-centered that I think of things that I would like to do and gift him with those things instead of things that interest him. For example, we have gone to many plays, musicals and shows and the only reason he even remotely enjoys going to them is because he loves me. He loves to see how happy I am when I’m sitting in those seats laughing, crying and beaming with joy. But he would never choose to sit there if it weren’t for me.  So anyways, this year Quintin and I decided that since we would be traveling home for a short weekend in December, and money was tight (as it always seems to be), that I wouldn’t attempt to get anything for Q. He said he felt very content without receiving a gift which gave me great relief that I didn’t have to search endlessly for the perfect gift for Q.  Well as the weeks went by and I was finding the perfect gifts for everyone on my Christmas list, I began to realize that I was actually sad about not giving Q a gift. It was the week before Christmas day and I started to frantically wrack my brain to think of things that we could do together last minute that would be special and maybe even romantic. After all of my efforts, all I could come up with was dinner. Very original, I know. And also, dinner on Christmas Eve? Sounds busy. Or expensive. Or not like his thing... But I decided to roll with it anyhow; it was all I had.  So I started to ask our friends for their opinions on local restaurants. I really thought if I could nail the restaurant, it would be perfect. I was thinking good food, fireplace, fancy cloth napkins, high heels for me and a tie for Q. I played it all out in my mind... We’d get out of the car and walk into a building lit up with cafe lights on the outside and a warm fireplace on the inside. We would be shown to our table and Quintin would pull out my chair for me an then push it in as I sat down like the gentlemen used to do. We would then order our food, a bottle of wine and at the end of it all, have one of those desserts that looks almost too good to even eat. It would be just like you see in the movies. Romantic right? So here we are, three days before Christmas, and I still hadn’t made a decision. I think deep down inside I knew why I actually wanted to do it, but I hadn’t yet put all of the pieces together. So out of desperation to make it a perfect Christmas Eve, I asked Q if he was interested in a dinner date for his gift. The answer: No. I expected that. And honestly, I felt really relieved. I didn’t have to find this perfect restaurant and attempt to have a “perfect” dinner and do all of those things that I had been playing out in my mind for the past few days. Okay cool, I thought. This is totally fine.  That night, Quintin told me he had to go to Best Buy to look for something and I just happened to be with him. He told me I couldn’t go in with him so he dropped me off at Babies R Us, the store next door. He was in there for what seemed like an hour and eventually I got bored looking at baby clothes and imaging what kind of gift he was getting me at Best Buy so I walked on over. He met me at the front of the store, empty handed, and we walked out side by side.  The following day we were going to my dads to have dinner with him and like always, I loaded my arms as full as I could with all of the things I was bringing over there for that night to make a “clean eating” plant based Christmas-y dessert. Being that my dad is a bachelor, living with two other dudes, they are a little lacking in the baking department. So, I was bringing it all.I had bags hanging from my harms, overflowing with food, mixing bowls, and bakeware. I had things pilled on top of other things and had my arms wrapped around everything else that wouldn’t fit inside the bags. Had you have seen me, you would have been able to predict the outcome of the situation. But, up until this point, I still hadn’t learned my lesson about taking multiple small trips to the car vs one massive one. So, here I was, arms full and standing outside the car door attempting to open it. The next thing I knew, I was looking at my favorite set of perfectly sized party bowls, perfect for stacking inside one another, great for mixing and storing food, and even complete with lids, shattered all over the ground. I immediately began to cry. I was so frustrated with myself and so sad to see one of my favorite things in my kitchen that I use on a daily basis, completely smashed. Quintin immediately came over and gave me a great big hug and wiped away my tears. He helped me pick up all the pieces and then we got in the car to head over to my dads and I attempted put that moment behind me. December 24, 2016 ---- Christmas Eve  We woke up on Christmas Eve together with nothing planned but a worship service at our church later that night. So we went about our day like it was any other Saturday. But then, as the morning rolled on, Quintin asked me if I wanted to open up an early Christmas gift! With pure excitement written all over my body, out came a giant squealy, “YES!”. He hands me a massive box, the perfect size for two puppies to be inside. Or, one of those really beautiful chunky knit blankets in ivory. Or ten pairs of TOMS! So I open the gift to find..... stainless steal mixing bowls. Now, I don’t mean to sounds ungrateful. Or like I don’t care that Quintin put some really sweet effort and thoughts into these bowls, seeing my pathetic reaction to me breaking my last set a few days ago. But, I found too much practicality in it and bowls are kind of one of those things that I would just go out and buy myself because they are kind of a necessity. My Christmas gift list (that I keep updated all year long just in case someone wants to randomly get me a gift and they need an idea!) is about 1% practical and 99% materialistic. I buy the things I “need”. I don’t buy the things that I really really want and definitely don’t need. So anyways, I try to act excited and appreciative and I tell him how thoughtful of a gift that was (which it really was very thoughtful) and know in my head that there will be another gift tomorrow that will be less practical. Evening comes, we head to Expression 58 to worship and celebrate what Christmas is really about to us, the birth of Jesus, our Savior, and as we are walking back to our car, I tell Q that I want to do something a little special. Nothing too fancy but maybe just go to a cute little coffee shop or go get ice cream. He likes the idea too, and being that it was a cold night, yes it gets cold in Los Angeles, we decided on coffee. As we sit down with our drinks at the table, the romantic idea that I had played out in my head of us sitting with our coffees by a fireplace with no one in the cafe except for us was crushed. There was no fireplace. We definitely weren’t the only ones there. It was loud. It was cold. And within 10 minutes of us getting our drinks, we left.  At this point I was beginning to get hungry and I think that I was trying to make up for all of my crazy and ridiculous emotions by getting some comfort food and binging. So, McDonalds it was. It was pretty late at night, especially for a holiday weekend, and I kid you not, every McDonalds that we stopped at on our 40 mile drive home was closed. We had one last chance with our very own local McDonalds in Simi and before we even pulled off the exit, we saw those golden arches lit up and waiting for us. I ordered a twenty piece nugget, which is what I was craving, and ate every last one.  December 25, 2016 ------- Christmas Day Back in Michigan, Christmas Day was usually filled with lots of family, lots of food and lots of crazy. It was usual a busy day as we tried to celebrate with everyone and split our time between each of our families houses. But this Christmas would be much quieter, much calmer. My dad was planning to make a roast dinner for us and a couple of his roommates and spending the day together would be the extent of it. There wouldn’t be any running around or filling our bellies with multiple meals, and I was trying to tell myself that that was okay. Of course I was thrilled to be spending the day with my dad, who over the past fifteen years, has been in Ireland. There have been very few Christmases where we have gotten to spend the holiday together so this was an especially sweet part of this year’s Christmas.  But anyways, I woke up on Christmas day feeling quite empty and horribly sad. I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t even fake being happy. So I pretty much just let my emotions fly, which is nothing new for this girl. It started without neither one of us opening any gifts. Since I had assumed that I would be getting another gift from Q on Christmas, I opened my bowls the night before. Alas, I was wrong. And not only was I sad about that, but I was just as sad that I didn’t have anything to give to Q. Even if it was some stupid gift that he didn’t love or something that would sit around and collect dust... I had nothing to offer and I hated that I didn’t have anything to give him. As we moved on throughout the morning, we took the dogs for a walk and then got packed up and ready to go to my dad’s. On the way over, I think the topic of gifts may have come up, and I just let everything inside of me spill out. I cried. I told Q how I was sad about presents, about how different this Christmas felt, and about how we didn’t do anything special together but instead ate at freaking McDondalds on Christmas Eve! I shared my ugly selfish heart with him and he received it with tenderness and love. Although there are many moments when I feel that Quintin can’t understand my crazy rollercoaster of emotions, it’s not often that I feel he doesn’t try to give me all the sympathy he can offer. I always feel comforted by that. More often than not, I just want to express myself and be held or hugged. And one of Q’s greatest gifts is that of a good listener. I am thankful for that. And not only because it benefits me, but really because I have learned from him what a valuable gift that is to give. I know I still have a long ways to go, but I am continually learning how to be a better listener, thanks to my helper. And I am realizing now as I write this, almost a year later, that there is no price tag on that gift. There is no annual day of giving the gift of listening, or bearing with one another, or sharing each others pains and sorrows. In those moments of life, no amount of TOMS will heal the pain. No matter how soft the blanket, it can’t fix the sorrows. And pain and sorrow will always come. But what a gift to be able to give the things that really matter. A hug, a prayer, a shoulder to lean on. These are the things that make us grow and build us up to become better partners, better siblings, better parents. Those kinds of gifts can’t be bought and I realize that I want to treasure those gifts more than any gift this world can offer. I know I will always love gifts, gift giving and gift getting is my love language, but I hope that this Christmas, my heart will be different. You can bet that I already have my Christmas list in full force and gift making has already begun, but I hope that this Christmas my eyes have a fresh vision. I am still working on the application of all of this, but one thing I know is that the first step is recognition. So bear with me as I learn and grow and feel free to encourage this process as I go!  As we pulled up to my dads late that morning, I wasn’t quite ready to move away from my thoughts and feelings. It is also very typical of me to not be able to move out of my emotional state quickly, even if the battle is won. So Q and I went on a walk around the block and I picked flowers, oranges, pine needles and picked up pine cones so I could make a centerpiece for the dinner table. I found a lot of joy in that. Doing that one simple thing helped me transition my emotions to be able to have a really great rest of the day. It was wonderful to spend the day with my dad. The centerpieces turned out to be beautiful and made my dad just as happy as they made me! The roast dinner was delicious, as always, and my raw vegan pecan pie was as you would guess a raw vegan pecan pie would taste.  Later that night, Quintin did gift me with the all three Toy Story movies as well as the Hunger Games trilogy on my laptop. He told me he was looking for them both at Best Buy but they didn’t have them. I still didn’t have anything for Q but it was okay because there was much more that I received this year than gifts.