#I just panic bought her some rugs to get her through winter

[silversnaffles]

Y’all I’m currently fumbling trying to get all of my paperwork ready to ship Tara to Norway potentially NEXT FUCKING WEEK WHAT THE FUCK

It’s come around a lot quicker than I expected as I did not expect the transport company to come back with “we have a lorry leaving the uk the week of the 4th” when I asked what date to tell the vets about when Tara will be leaving and hoooly shit

[notsowrites]

Untitled 3x08 Malex Coda #3

Last one before tonight! Why I get inspired to write about these two first thing in the morning when I’m drinking my coffee is beyond me, but here’s some more soft Malex with a bit of fluff.

Enjoy! <3

----------

They head back inside not long after, the cold winter air nipping at Alex's skin. Maria is sitting up near the pool tables, cell phone pressed to her ear, and Alex focuses on the smile on her face, the absolute happiness he can see radiating off her. She looks up as they walk in, waving at them, but their presence is not enough to get her to end the call.

Michael is already back at the bar, leaning against it, knocking shoulders with Isobel, Liz sitting just on her other side. There's a bottle of wine between them, and two half-filled glasses.

"She's on the phone with your brother," Liz supplies as he joins them.

He nods. It's not new, this thing between his brother and Maria. But the two of them acting on the looks that he's known they've shared since high school certainly is.

Sliding into the open seat to Michael's right is easy enough, and it does wonders to get the weight off his hip for now. His fingers dig into the muscle of his leg, gently massaging it as he watches Michael slide another beer in front of him.

"You okay?"

Michael's voice is quiet, almost a whisper in the already quiet bar. The only other people here are people he loves, people he trusts. He nods.

"Just sore."

He goes for honesty, which seems to be the theme of the day for them, and watches as Michael's eyes dart to his leg and further down to where his prosthetic is beneath his jeans. There's nothing he can do right now, not until he's home and can take it off, remove the lining, and possibly soak in the bathtub to ease the tension in it. But that can wait, because being here, with the people he loves and cares about is more important.

It's the most important thing.

"We can leave," Michael replies, as if reading his thoughts, but Alex reaches out, slipping his hand into Michael's, and shaking his head.

Liz speaks up first, her eyes going from Michael to him, and back again. "You don't have to stay. Max is safe, thanks to you. We should take the win and enjoy tonight."

The fight leaves him at Liz's words, and he acquiesces, sliding off the stool, and stretching his leg, one hand on the back of the bar stool for balance. He can feel Michael's eyes on him, watching him, and for once he loves how it feels. It's so easy to reach out, to grab Michael's hand in his own and give it a reassuring squeeze, before he crosses the floor towards Maria.

"So your I guess it's our time vibes were only a couple weeks off, eh?" He hears Isobel ask behind him, but doesn't turn around to look at how Michael reacts, only hearing Liz's shocked gasp instead.

"Greg, hold on, hold on, Alex is here-" Maria turns towards him, pulling the phone away from her ear and wrapping her arms around him. He stumbles a bit, expecting the weight but miscalculating for how tired he is. She immediately pulls back, looking him up and down, assessing.

He presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm fine, just tired. Michael and I are heading out, but I didn't want to leave without telling you."

She raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'll call you tomorrow." He feels his cheeks go warm, and shifts on his feet, not out of the soreness in his hip this time.

"You better," Maria laughs as she puts the phone back up to her ear, and Alex can immediately hear his brother, just can't make out the words. He watches as Maria smiles, a laugh escaping her lips as she looks back at him.

"Greg says it's about damn time."

With a bit of an eyeroll, he leaves the two of them to their conversation and turns back to the bar, surprised to find Michael is standing near the doorway. There's a feeling that blossoms in his chest, seeing Michael standing there, waiting, for him. And after spending the day together, Alex isn't ready for it to end.

"Can you take me home?"

The car ride is quiet, but not awkward. Alex pushes himself up against the passenger door, and shifts himself so he's staring at Michael as he drives. Something he hasn't done since they were teenagers when they'd get in Michael's truck and drive out to the desert - the only way after the toolshed they could find some time for themselves.

Michael's hat is sitting on the seat between them, and Alex brushes his fingers along the rim. He loves the cowboy look, even if it covers up Michael's curls. Because he really is in love with Michael Guerin any way you slice it.

His house is on a quiet side street outside town, the yard lights on thanks to their automatic timer, illuminating the terrace and the front door. He and Maria had strung them up one Saturday afternoon a few weeks after he'd bought the house, her claiming it needed some ambiance. She'd been the one to help him pick out the patio furniture, and start making the house into some place he could call home.

Michael pulls the truck into the driveway next to his SUV, and Alex reaches for the door handle, before he realizes the engine is idling. 

Does he want Michael to leave? He doesn't know. Today was a whirlwind for them - working together, talking, and Michael kissing him. As he'd pressed his face into Michael's shoulder earlier, he'd realized how much he missed this - missed Michael. There had always been something about the way it felt around him, when they weren't fighting, when they had a moment of quiet - an unexplainable calm that would fall over him. For the first time in years, he'd felt it again that morning, and then again later in the truck when Michael had touched his cheek.

He wouldn't label it an understanding, because it felt much deeper than that.

"Michael?"

"Yeah?"

But Michael makes no move to turn off the engine, so Alex tugs on that courage he'd used all day to tell Michael what he wanted. He'd never felt the need to put into words his every day actions - and perhaps part of that was his years in the Air Force, and the work he'd done that required a level of secrecy. But keeping Michael out of the loop recently hadn't done them, or their relationship, any favors. And he hated to see Michael so angry at him.

"Shut the engine off and come inside."

He watches Michael turn to him, eyes soft and beautiful, and Alex doesn't know sometimes, what to do with the way Michael makes him feel. He never has. If he was younger, if he was more agile than he is these days, he'd climb over onto Michael's lap and kiss him here in the truck. So instead he reaches over the cowboy hat, and slips his fingers under Michael's, tightening his grip.

"You sure?"

Alex nods. 

But Michael's hesitance doesn't end there, and follows him into the house. Alex coaxes him out of his jacket, his boots, and watches as he slowly walks into the living room, glancing around as if unsure of himself. And Michael has been here before, Michael's been here a lot over the years.

"You got rid of the cameras," he says, nodding up where the one above his bedroom door used to be.

The cameras were something he'd installed under the belief that he couldn't trust his father. There had always been that residual fear he would break in and try something to get one up on Alex. So the cameras had made him feel like he was being proactive, like his father couldn't sneak up on him if he had a system in place.

"Yeah, don't need them anymore." He doesn't want to talk about his dad. Not now. It's not that he wants to brush it under the rug and never speak of it, because he knows there are a lot of things they need to talk about. But Liz's words echo in his mind about taking the win today for what it is, and doing that means not focusing on something like his father.

"That's good," Michael says, his voice low, and Alex doesn't move, just stands still as Michael walks over to him, a smile pushing up on his lips. He feels Michael's hands on his face, palms against his cheeks and lets Michael kiss him.

He feels the scratch of Michael's beard and the soft press of his lips and Alex presses forward just a little, his hands moving to Michael's hips, bracing himself. The kiss is slow and gentle, and Alex feels like he's falling. There's no rush in either of their actions, Michael's fingertips lightly scratching at the nape of his neck, their noses bumping, and their foreheads end up pressed together as their lips separate.

"I want-" He pauses, pushing back just far enough so he can look up at Michael. He doesn't want to not be looking at him when he speaks. But he thinks of Michael's reluctance to come inside, and he thinks of the words Michael had once expressed to him about going where Alex wants, and he needs to make sure this is what Michael wants too. "Will you stay the night?"

----------

In the morning, he wakes up tangled up in Michael. There's no panic that sets in, no worry about one of them leaving, even if they haven't talked about the future yet. Because there's time for that now. And Alex knows, believes, they both want one together.

He opens his eyes to find Michael already awake, eyes open and watching him. It should be creepy, but instead all Alex feels is love.

"Morning," Michael says, leaning in and gently kissing his lips.

"Been awake long?"

Michael shakes his head. "I've never watched you sleep before. You always-" He cuts himself off and Alex can fill in the rest himself. He knows this story too.

Last night had been different though, from anything they'd ever done in the past. It felt like a new beginning for them, the way the whole day had. Michael had drawn the bath while Alex had gone through his nightly routine, finally getting the chance to remove his prosthetic. And as Alex had laid back in the tub, letting the hot water soothe his sore muscles, Michael had sat on the floor next to the tub, resting his head on his arm, and they'd just… talked.

Talked in a way they never had before. Alex had listened as Michael had finally told him everything he'd learned from Jones - from the white lies to the discovery of his own origins. He'd been unable to stop himself from taking Michael's hand as he talked about his mother, the way he'd started to doubt his own feelings about her, and the things she had done. Most shocking of all was when Michael asked to show him something, and Alex had just nodded before he was watching as Michael pulled a lighter out of his jeans and held the flame to the skin of his palm.

Instinct had him snatching Michael's hand, pulling it away from the flame - but his skin was perfect. The flame hadn't harmed him.

"I want to make you breakfast," Michael says instead.

Alex laughs, immediately burying his face into Michael's shoulder, because while a great idea, he doesn't exactly keep a fully stocked kitchen. Especially since he's a terrible cook himself, and restocking the fridge after his year spent cleaning up Project Shepherd messes hasn't been a huge priority.

"I'd like that except…" he lets his voice trail off, but leans up and kisses Michael. "I'm not sure there's much in the fridge to cook with."

Michael shakes his head, laughing, and Alex kisses him again, pulling himself up so he's leaning over Michael, his fingers stroking Michael's curls, gently tugging on the ends and watching as they spring back into place.

"Another time then."

Alex leans forward, their lips almost touching as he smiles. Because another time is a future they now have together. It's tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. "Tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"I don't want - I meant what I said all those months ago. About starting over. And-" He pauses, thinking about every night he's spent with Michael that ended with one of them leaving, the other never staying. "We've never had breakfast before."

They trade lazy kisses, neither of them able to stop smiling, and it's slow and perfect, and Alex thinks he could stay wrapped up in Michael Guerin forever. But he gets an idea, and it's a good one. And he knows Michael will be okay with it, that Michael will agree to it. Because now he knows Michael feels the same, that Michael wants the same things for them.

"Let's go to the Crashdown," he says against Michael's lips.

Michael pushes back, not away but enough so he's looking at Alex. And there's a flicker of something on his eyes, an old hurt resurfacing that Alex can see. Another thing they need to talk about.

"Like a date?"

Alex rolls his eyes, but kisses Michael again. "Like a date. Like two people having breakfast. I just - I want to do these things with you. I want us to be able to do these things."

"Okay, Manes," Michael replies, pushing up quickly and kissing Alex, like he can't get enough. "Let's go have pancakes."

[thestuckylibrary]

Group Ask 160

What is a group ask?

Previous Group Asks

AO3 Search Tutorial

Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!

Anon 1 said:

Hi! I don't fully remember the plot, but basically there's a universe where Bucky died (I think it was like a gladiator type thing?) and Steven mourned his loss. The avengers get sucked into this during a mission (probably) and Steve is super happy to see Bucky but Natasha doesn't fully trust him. I think Steve has a hut or something with fur rugs.

whitewolfwintersoldier sent in let me be the one* by 616bucky (oneshot | 3,434 | not rated) *chose not to warn

Anon 2 said:

HI! love this blog! i'm looking for a modern au fic where bucky goes to steve's house to thank him for rescuing him when they were deployed overseas. they end up spending the whole day together in steve's new house and get together at the end, its

Anon sent in The Only Way Out Is Through by Brenda (oneshot | 6,659 | M)

Anon 3 said:

I read this college AU where Steve and Bucky were the presidents/leaders of rival fraternities and they have a lot of fights but end up having sex in the end. I looked through a lot of your tags and I still can't find it. Thank you!

miraishu and Anon sent in avalanche by pieandsouffles (complete | 45,993 | E)

Anon 4 said:

I've been looking for a specific fic I've read on ao3 a while ago for days Steve and bucky live in the avengers tower and bucky starts going back in his dreams where he's with the howling commando and Steve has to comfort him in the modern time because it's too much with all the deads etc. and they get together in the past and Steve starts getting these new memories as well. btw it's not "memories I now can't recall" which seems to be a bit similar.

Anon 5 said:

Hi! I've been looking everywhere for the fic where steve is an illustrator and bucky is a famous author who releases a children's book about their friendship but through the metaphor of a cat and dog's friendship (Kitty and Dot?). It's one of my favorite fics ever and I'd much appreciate anyone's help to find it. Thank you!

Anon 6 said:

Hello ! There’s a Modern Bucky/Modern Steve fic where Bucky has just moved into an apartment complex owned by Tony Stark (who was his boss) and since the walls are windows, he can see Steve in the building across from him. They start to message each other using pencil and paper ( kind of like in You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift). They eventually end up having sex in Bucky’s apartment. Thank you!!!!

Anon sent in Something Beginning With... L by 74days (oneshot | 5,840 | T)

Anon 7 said:

I read a fic a while ago and I can’t remember its name, but it’s post-eg and Steve brings back 2012 Steve for a while and they and Bucky have a threesome? It’s got bottom bucky

Anon sent in Carnal Synchronicity by AidaRonan (oneshot | 6,506 | E)

Anon 8 said:

Hi, im lookibg for a fic that was like it was pre serum steve but he was still captain america or something and bucky was also an avenger but they didnt know eachother, and in it bucky would like walk around naked to tease steve bc he had a monster shlong and steve was a size queen,. yeah thank youu!

Anon 9 said:

There were a handful of fics I read ages ago that shared a trope, but I can’t seem to find a decent way to search for them: college AU, with Steve and Bucky being fake boyfriends in order to participate in a relationship study at school. At least one of them was more than 10k. Anything that rings a bell world be absolutely amazing—thanks so much!

Anon sent in Introduction to Fake Dating Your Best Friend 101 by crinklefries (complete | 24,627 | T)

Anon 10 said:

Hi, i am looking for a fic I lost. It features pre serum Steve and (i think) winter soldier looking Bucky. There are also Natasha and clint who are married or dating. Natasha and bucky work at a restaurant but they all have shady, super secret past. Both steve and bucky like each other, but bucky can only speak russian to him because his past missions messed him up. There is also a scene where bucky serves steve some food at the restaurant he works at and steve thanks him in russian.

Anon sent in to live with thee by aw marvel no (getoffmysheets) (complete | 69,834 | E)

Anon 11 said:

Is there a fic where steve is big and has some form of OCD, and he keeps cleaning his apartment with bleach and baking cookies? He throws the “imperfect” cookies out. I think bucky was maybe his neighbor? It’s set in modern times but I can’t remember if they had powers or not. Any suggestions would be appreciated. Thank you guys for giving time and effort to this blog!!!

miraishu sent in Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (and Other Lies He Tells Himself) by betts (oneshot | 14,159 | M)

Anon 12 said:

Hi! I feel like I actually originally found this fic on your blog, but I haven’t been able to find it again. It’s one where they’re together, but they’re hiding it from the Avengers because they believe the Avengers are very homophobic. I think it was pretty angsty. They finally do get found out and then they explain to the team everything that made them think the team wouldn’t react well?

scottieisstressed said:

i’m looking for a fic that i’m pretty sure is based on the hallmark movie snow bride. i’ve tried searching ao3 tags and yalls blog but i can’t find it. one of them is a reporter sent to investigate a tip that one of the brothers of a famous family bought and engagement ring and find out who it was. they get caught on the property by one of the brothers and they end of fake dating

Anon 13 said:

Hey so I’ve been trying to find this fic that I read a while ago but I can’t remember the name or the author :/ it’s an au and they meet on a train - Steve is an artist and was drawing Bucky (kinda creepily) for his comic, Bucky is a panic-prone war veteran, it’s cute. Any ideas?

mille-baci, getstucky and Anon sent in  it takes a lot to know a man by kittyandmulder, steebadore (complete | 38,981 | E)

Anon 14 said:

i was wondering if you guys could help me find a four part book that takes place after civil war? all i remember is that bucky kept leaving steve and steve had severe depression and they were all in wakanda and im PRETTY sure wanda used her powers to get rid of buckys trigger words and made steve forget what the valkyrie was? im also pretty sure steve gave himself up so his team could be pardoned. thank you!

Anon sent in Einherjar by thecommodore_squid (complete | 71,297 | M)

[mrsjokerphoenix]

CH. 1 Primed for Sin

Notes: This is my first fanfic so it’s probably not so good LOL its a bit personal and inspired by my own story of losing the love of my life. I was also listening to Slow dancing in a burning room by John Meyer to set the mood. Im open to constructive criticism so I can improve and make chpt 2 better. Enjoy

Ch. 1 primed for sin

This was your final walk down this hallway in Arkham hospital. The same hospital you came to a year ago looking for adventure and to escape the rut of all the daunting paperwork. When you were first hired by the CIA 6 years ago you naively thought it would be like a oo7 movie or spies you see in Hollywood movies. You couldn’t be more mistaken. A chuckle escaped your mouth as you signed in the sign in sheet. You could start to feel your legs getting heavier and heavier with every daunting step you took.

“Is Dr. Quinn in there? You asked the guard. Taking a drink of your black coffee. Bad idea your anxiety was already Moments away from becoming a panic attack.

“Yes, she’s waiting for you.” He answered in his usual bored monotone voice.

“Thank you, once she leaves bring in Arthur please and then you’re free to go as well until our session is over.” Quinn was Arthur’s state psychiatrist. You had paid her off so you could meet with Arthur privately. It had been a year and half since Meeting with Gary about a possible operation. Get his “lad” as he like to call Arthur, out of Arkham. Your specialty was arms deals but something in you wouldn’t let you turn it down.

You were able to pull some strings and be assigned as Arthurs new Doctor with the help of his current one. As a rogue agent you naturally distrusted her. Luckily she didn’t want the case and You were able to pay her off so she would leave during our sessions. Today would be the last one and by tomorrow Arthur or rather Joker would be a free man. You could feel your throat closing up. That lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. No matter how much water you drank or coughing you did it persisted, reminding you just how much you had helplessly fallen in love. There was a chance you will never see each other again. It took every ounce in you to keep it together and not breakdown crying. You broke your most important rule “never fall in love” and now there was no going back. The realization of this left you breathless.

“ good job y/n” you mumbled sarcastically while setting everything down on the old warn down table. Arkham desperately needed to refurnish.

“How do you manage to get more beautiful every time I see you?” You had been so deep in thought, organizing your paperwork, and fighting back tears you didn’t notice Arthur walk in.

“Good morning to you too Arthur.” You grinned from ear to ear as he made his way to give you a hug. “are you ready for tomorrow?” You asked looking up and admiring how beautiful this man was. His salt/pepper hair slicked back leaving his features highlighted. The way his full brows made his green eyes so intense you could get lost in them forever. You had to look away. Never before had you seen eyes that held so much beauty and danger.

“Lets not talk about that kitten, I want this hour to be special. It is our last time meeting you know.” He said shooting you a half smile that made you weak in the knees. But you could see the sadness that decorated his face. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Arthur was so worried about you. Sweet Arthur if only others could see the real you. They would love you as much as I do.

“Look at me please” he ordered. “Youve been crying haven’t you?” Shaking his head

You wanted to lie, deny the whole ordeal, brush it all under the rug but you couldn’t lie to him and you fell into his arms. “Im going to miss you so much. I love you and I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I know we cant be together right now but it hurts. It hurts so much I cant breath.” Body wracked with an onslaught of sobs and tears.

He pulled you into his arms. His warmth would seep into your being and he comforted you without ever opening his mouth. You felt one of his tears cascade down your shoulder.He was intoxicating and every cell in your body craved him like an addict craves his fix. “Im sorry doll” his voice was heavy with pain, the same way guilt weighed down upon his shoulders.

“I know and i will be ok as long as you are safe, that’s all that matters to me Arthur” you replied forcing your voice to sound as normal and not break in the same way your heart was shattering with every second that passed.

He held you tightly. Hands on the small of your back while you wrapped your hands around his neck and face resting on his chest. The two of you danced with grief in the tiny white room in Arkham. Where it all begin. Unforeseen by you meeting him for the first time was like coming out of a hibernation you didn’t know you were in. His eyes green like spring breaking through winters snow. The same room where you had laughed, cried, and talked about the future together. You felt so complete in his arms. He took away the emptiness that like an abusive partner threatened to never leave and you a patient with Stockholm syndrome Obeyed finding comfort in it. You wanted to melt into him and become one so that nothing could ever tear you apart from him.

“We will see each other again I promise.” trying to not only convince him but convince yourself as well.

Arthur started humming the tune of one our favorite songs we slowly danced in a burning room. He whispered those dark silly jokes he was so proud of and knew would get a chuckle out of you. Oh how you prayed time would stop this instant and you could keep experiencing his velvet soft touch. Arthur was your home and soon you’d find yourself homeless once more.

A knock on the door jerked us back into reality. “Its time to take Mr.Fleck back to his room” you heard from across the door.

“Yes gives us a minute please!” You shouted resentfully. It wasn’t the guards fault but you had to take it out on someone. Grasping at any sense left of control.

“Time flies when you’re having fun” he said taking a seat across from your desk. It would be the last time he would sit in that chair. The chair that was a witness to our love story. Once comfortable he gracefully put a cigarette in between his lips and lit it. You found yourself Getting lost in his graceful confident movements. The opening of the box. The click of the lighter. The slight tilt of his head. Crisp burning of a cigarette. First small inhale. Exhale not letting it reach his lungs. The lift of his neck. Long drag. Exhale. It was as if time had slowed down. almost as if the universe was gifting you this so you could take it all in only for it to be preyed away from hands. Only leaving with you those haunting memories of what no longer is. Grieving for what will never be. Oh bittersweet universe. You cruel bastard.

“Yes, sorry” you said. You could feel your cheeks turn cherry red.

“You can stare at me all you want doll.” He insisted.

“Cocky arent we now.” We both broke into laughter. It seemed to lighten the air in the room. Thank God, those sinister white walls felt like they could collapse on you at any second.

still standing leaning on the desk. you turned to pick up the folder on the desk. You had gone over the plan several times and you were confident things would run smoothly. “Gary did a great job putting a team together for you” You advised.

Arthur reached to grab the folder not saying a word. “All the documents to your new properties, weapons bought. Also the names of politicians, law enforcements and agents that will be working for you are also included. Just incase they want to cause problems.”

“I love you y/n always remember that” he finally said.

“I love you too Arthur, Good luck tomorrow everything will work out as planned.” Arthur leaned in for one last tender passionate kiss. His honey sweet tongue dancing with yours to a tune only you two were privy to. Suddenly the guard barged in to take him.

“Im sorry to interrupt but its time” walking towards Arthur. If looks could kill you would have killed him a thousand times over.

You watched as he was handcuffed again and lead out of the room. Arthur never taking his eyes off of you. As soon as the door closed your legs betrayed you as you feel to your knees. The pain flooded every inch of your body like a dam unable of being contained any longer. Tears stinging as they made their way down your cheeks. “Comeback please!” You tried to yell in vain. Unable to find the strength to let it out. “Why do you always take from me God, everything I love gets taken” you cursed at the sky. You had not felt such intense pain since the passing of your mother. Finally finding the strength to pick your shaking limbs off the floor, you noticed a folded note on the desk.

“I was never really insane, except on occasions where my heart was touched.” Go with me doll, i cant do this alone. meet me at the warehouse. We leave at 9. Joker

[sistercelluloid]

This his has nothing to do with classic film, but I feel like you’re family, so I hope you’ll bear with me in remembering my sweet, beloved Linus, who we lost last week. He lived to be sixteen years and eight months old, but his life seemed to go by in the blink of an eye.

We adopted him when he was just shy of three; he had been so horribly abused that a neighbor called the woman who ran the local no-kill shelter and begged her to somehow get the people who had him—I refuse to call them his family—to surrender him. In his early days with us, his trauma surfaced in heartbreaking ways, as when my husband Tim pulled on a pair of heavy boots to go out and shovel snow—and Linus wailed and shook violently, ran to a corner, and tried to dig his way into the wall.

When we first met him at the shelter, he was clearly anxious to be let out of the kennels. Far and away the smallest dog there, he broke free of his handler, snuggled into a spot on the sofa between us, sighed, and settled in. He was home already. While we waited to sign the final adoption papers—we’d already been through an application process the FBI would gaze upon in awe—I ran through a bunch of names in my mind. “What about Linus?” I asked Tim, thinking of the Peanuts character. “He’s looks so sweet and thoughtful, like he’s got a lot on his mind.” And when we got him home, the first thing he did was burrow deep into his carrier and pull out something that had been scrunched up in the back: his blanket.

He sniffed his way around his new home, and just to make sure we knew it was his, he peed on every rug. Then he curled up on the sofa with his brand-new stuffed bear, chewed the nose off and gleefully pulled out the stuffing.

The bear would be first of a long string of victims which ran the gamut from stuffed toys to silk eye masks.

Linus 1, Mister Fluffy Bunny 0.

And oh, yes, that poor Santa hat—his revenge for the 15 seconds he had to wear this silly outfit for a Christmas card photo.

He literally loved his soccer ball to bits, and no shiny new replacement—even if it was exactly the same thing—ever made him as happy. So I’d just grab his old one, gather up the trail of stuffing strewn across the living room floor, and sew it all back together again.

Only the Grinch was spared from being torn apart, and they became such fast friends that I took to leaving him out all year.

When we first brought Linus home, we weren’t sure how long his walks should be. No one had ever bothered to take him for a real walk before—at the shelter they’d heard he’d been let out in the yard maybe once or twice a day. And being a dachshund, he took a whole bunch of steps for every one of ours. So we decided to just walk him until he got tired.

He never got tired.

After three or four miles, I’d be splayed face-down on the sofa, and he’d be like, “So, where are we goin’ now, Ma?”

Sometimes before we even got to the street, he’d meet Patty or Helen or Michelle from our apartment building, who all adored him. And oh was it mutual. He’d squeal and yip, waggle his butt, and run up and smoosh against them, just unable to contain himself. And he’d bark at their husbands.

Down the street we sometimes ran into Jeff and John, who’d swoop off their stoop the minute they saw Linus. They even bought dog biscuits to keep on hand for him. One night when we passed Jeff, we didn’t stop because he was on the phone. But he let out a whoop and waved us over. He proceeded to tell the guy on the other end Linus’s entire life story—and then ignored him completely talk to Linus, asking over and over, “Who’s a good boy?”

We’d often stop at the coffee shop on our walks, where he’d make new friends. In the summer, I’d often hear a sudden “Ooh!” only to turn and discover Linus had rubbed his cold nose against someone’s bare calf.  And then there was the firefighter with arms roughly the size of Bluto’s, who cooed baby-talk to him and treated me to a cappucino because he loved him so madly.

It took my breath away how open-hearted Linus was, after all the horrors he’d been through. People hold grudges for years, sometimes forever, over the tiniest slight. But once Linus was safe and happy and loved, he was willing—happy, even—to give the whole human race a second chance. He was such an old soul, such a sweet spirit.

For all his years in our family, Linus went with us just about everywhere. He especially loved the “come-withs” at our upstate house on weekends. And because he was crazy-smart, he picked up on clues instantly. When he saw Tim make any move toward the Linus bag—the little canvas pouch with his portable water dish and snacks—he’d go crazy. He also went nuts when I took my bra out of the drawer, because it meant I was going somewhere so probably he was too. It got to the point where if we were heading out without him on the weekend, I had to sneak my bra out when he wasn’t looking.

We took him on our vacations…

…on camping trips…

…on family visits to the lake…

…on day hikes (where once he was super-excited to meet a countryman)…

…to every park we could find (whether he was allowed there or not)…

…to street fairs and festivals…

…to drive-ins…

…and to restaurants, where, on the rare occasion we dined outside without him, we’d get grilled about it by the waiters. (“We were just out shopping and we didn’t know we’d be stopping to eat!” we’d plead, heads down, like guilty criminals.) At one place where we dined often, the manager would greet him with a full plate of bacon. One day, a woman at a nearby table complained, “You served that dog before you waited on me!” and he replied dryly, “He’s a regular.” To know Linus was to love him to the point of obliviousness to all else.

And, um, yes, he had a little portable bed, to protect him from the hard ground. (Though sometimes after we finished our meals, he’d venture off just far enough to sneak a peek at what the people at the next table were having.)

He also had a bed to cushion his naps in the backyard. Okay fine, two beds.

Mostly, though, he roughed it.

Oh and he had a bed in the car, though sometimes it was more of a pillow.

Though having fluffy beds pretty much everywhere, including three in the house, didn’t stop him from checking out other options.

Linus was so sweet and supremely silly…

Once, in a rare attempt at hunting, he somehow wound up in a stack of planters, while the chipmunk had long since scampered down the driveway.

When it was too chilly for the yard but just warm enough to get near it, he loved to watch the world from the screenporch.

Being so close to the ground, Linus was not a huge fan of the cold and wet. (When we got a couple of inches of snow, I’d croon, “It’s up to your knees out there…”) He’d take a few steps and then lift a chilly front paw as if to say, “Taxi!” And I’d pick him up and carry him out to the plowed road for a quick walk. Then he’d come in for a vigorous pat-down with his super-absorbent doggie towel, play-fight with it after he was dry and happy, and burrow under his blankets again.

Always a sun puppy, in bleakest February he’d follow the scant rays around the house. (I call this The Linus in Winter.)

On sleepy weekend mornings, Linus had a little ritual he loved. I’d give him breakfast and take him out for a walk—and then he’d all but march me back to bed. (Tim was usually still there.) He’d head toward the bedroom, stop and turn around to make sure I was following him, and harrumph at me if I wasn’t moving fast enough. Then he’d stand by the bed and wait to be lifted up, barking at me to follow him under the covers so the three of us could snuggle.

He also made a huge fuss whenever Tim came home. You’ve seen the heartwarming videos of dogs whooping and jumping and hurling themselves wildly at returning soldiers, who’ve been away for years? That was Linus when Tim came back from the deli.

He loved belly rubs…

…and deep, long snoozes, and honest to God you’d sell your soul to sleep like that for five minutes.

And if he snoozed on something I needed, I’d just wait until he woke up.

He was also great at self-snuggling, where one minute he was lying flat on his blanket and the next he was a dachshund burrito.

Linus never met a snack he didn’t like (that’s a telltale yogurt ring on his face)…

…and his devotion to whatever you had on your plate bordered on the monastic.

A couple of weeks after we brought him home, we went out to a family dinner and brought home a big, fat, juicy steak bone. When we gave it to Linus, he didn’t seem to know what to do with it at first—because apparently in his almost three years of doggie life, no one had ever given him a bone. But he quickly caught on, and wouldn’t let go. We somehow managed to pry it away from him for his nightly walk, but upon returning, he raced down the hall, frantic to reclaim his prize. After that, he got lots of bones.

When my Mom visited, she actually teased us about spoiling him. Imagine. And then there was this.

But how else would I treat my best editor? When I was stuck for a word, I could always turn to him for support. Or, more often, just chuck what I was working on and curl up with him.

He’d also sense our miseries and truly sympathize. Whenever I cried, whether from something real or even an old movie, I’d soon find him clinging close to me.

Every autumn, on the Feast of St. Francis, we took Linus to be blessed, which I think may have helped him through the health crises in his life.

In the summer of 2007, a few weeks after my company closed its doors, I was spending some time with Linus upstate. One day, rather than racing around the yard, he seemed sluggish, mostly sitting in one spot under a tree. I chalked it up to the weather, which had grown more sultry as the afternoon wore on, and thought it best to bring him inside. But when I picked him up, he howled in pain. Trying (and failing) not to panic, I softly cradled him into his bed and called the vet, but they’d already closed. So I called a cab to get to the emergency vet in the next town.

An hour passed. No cab. By now the sky was black, and it was pouring. I called again (I vaguely remember screaming). A half-hour later, the cabbie drove right past me as I stood on the screenporch frantically waving my arms. I ran outside, caught up with him and jumped right in front of the car.

By the time Linus made it to the vet, his back legs were paralyzed. He had ruptured a disc and needed emergency surgery, but whether he’d ever walk again was highly uncertain. They brought him into the back, gave him steroids, pain medication and sedatives to stabilize him overnight, and told me to get him to Cornell veterinary hospital first thing in the morning. I called Tim from the front desk, sobbing so hard he could barely understand what I was saying.

As I waited for him to drive up from the city, I sat outside crying on a bench under an awning, as the rain pounded against it. A woman who’d seen me inside came out, sat beside me, and pulled my head onto her shoulder. “He’ll be alright,” she said over and over, like a lullaby, or maybe a prayer. I’ll never forget her. (And she was right.)

During the drive up to Cornell, I sat in back with Linus. Bundled in blankets, he clung to my lap, drifting in and out of a fearful, fitful sleep, trembling the whole time. When we arrived, they whisked him into surgery within an hour, removed the ruptured disc and fused the ones on either side. They were going to keep him for another three days, but he was so scared and miserable in his cage—he hadn’t spent a night without us since we first brought him home—that they let him leave a day early, giving us strict instructions on how to get him back on his feet.

Naturally, at first, he was wobbly as a newborn foal. I’d hold him as he took a few halting steps and then lose his footing and stumble to the ground. I started to look into scooters, in case he needed one. But then suddenly, less than a week after surgery, he went from staggering to running, in a single motion. So there we were in the yard, him scampering around like he’d never left, like it was just another Tuesday, and me crying my head off. I started to call Tim, but then I put the phone down. I wanted Linus to surprise him when he came home.

The only lingering result of his trauma was that occasionally when he sat down, he would swing one leg out to the side, like Rita Hayworth in her pinup shots.

I told Tim if anything ever happened to me, he should take me to Cornell and tell them I’m a German Shepherd.

A few years later, a routine vet visit turned up some disturbing lab results. So we went back to Cornell, where a battery of tests revealed a dangerous tumor. He needed surgery right away, and the only available slot was the day before Thanksgiving. For the second time, everything went perfectly, and in their post-op report, the clearly perceptive vets actually wrote, “Linus is a very good dog.” Tim and I had our holiday dinner at the only place we could find open, a bar in downtown Ithaca. I ordered a cocktail, only to have the waiter snap, “Today we have beer and wine and that’s it.” Yipes. But since he was stuck working, I could hardly blame him for sounding like Sheldon Leonard in It’s a Wonderful Life. (“We serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast, and we don’t need any characters around to give the joint atmosphere!”)

And once again Linus, desperate to go home, was released early, enjoying some post-holiday deli turkey on the trip back.

But the following year, Linus was diagnosed with Cushing’s disease, which is something of a plague for dachshunds. Every story I dug up was more horrible than the one before, and the typical prognosis was two years. Linus was blessed with another four, and until he was near the end, fate was somewhat benevolent to him. But in the last few months, one by one, a series of cruel symptoms came crashing down on him. Cushing’s attacked his retinas, dementia darkened his wonderful mind, and sometimes he struggled to stand. Before, the vets always had an answer. Now they had none.

Often I’d pick him up, wrap my arms close around him, and try to will time and trauma away. Do your worst to me, I’d plead, but leave his little fourteen-pound body alone.

It’s one of the cruelest twists of nature that they get so much less time on this earth than we do. I would have happily shared my years with him if I could have.

The night before Linus died, Tim and I slept on either side of him, guardians at the gate with nothing left in our desperately depleted arsenal but how much we loved him. At first, he shared my pillow, his nose pressed against my neck. But then he shifted, resting his head on my hand and curling his body into the crook of my arm. Then he sighed and settled down, just as he did those first few moments we welcomed him into our family.

Despite his age and his illness, losing Linus was an awful, sudden shock. Losing someone you love so much always is; there’s no “preparing” for it. It’s not just a turn of phrase to say I don’t know what to do without him. I really don’t. I can’t put his beds and blankets and bowls away, but I can’t bear to look at them either. I can barely breathe.

I know he lived a long, happy life, and he was loved like crazy, and we’ll always have our memories of him. But none of that helps right now. I’ve collapsed in tears in the diner, in the supermarket, on the street, everywhere. And it’s worse at home. I wake up crying and go to sleep the same way. I miss everything about him, even the smallest things, like the sound of him lapping at his water bowl and his paws click-clacking on the floor. As little as he was, he filled the house. And he filled my heart. Losing him has thrown open the gates to a very dark place I can’t find my way out of without him.

Goodnight and sleep safe, my sweet, silly, beautiful, beloved pup. You were such an indescribable blessing, beyond any words I can find. I have no idea if there’s a God, but there better be a Heaven for you. May the angels hold you as close as we did for all those wonderful years.

Remembering Linus, Our Sweet, Beloved Pup This his has nothing to do with classic film, but I feel like you're family, so I hope you’ll bear with me in remembering my sweet, beloved Linus, who we lost last week.

[moonfox281]

Hi, I'm a big fan. Love your "Fumes of our Love" Series by the way. Can you right a story where Dick is a fortune-teller and he meets crazy people (aka Gotham locals) asking for their fortune. However, Jason comes to his shop everyday for his fortune. His fortune is always "pining" and "rejection". Over time Dick and Jay be comes close, until Jason's fortune changes to "mutual" and "acceptance".

You’re my Four of Wands

(Words: 2,279)

Status: chap 1

AO3 link: You’re my four of wands

“Tell me my future.”

It was always the same.

The very moment they took their first deep breath before letting the words out, he had known what it would be about. And he was always right.

How hard could it be to read them when everyone came looking for him was the same.

Dick smiled at the woman and started reading the cards, could feel her eyes on him the whole time. They always looked, even when their minds didn’t have much other than his words at the time. It was easier to look at him then at the objects in his hand sometimes, the gypsy he looked he put on always made people stare, they would look at his face, would draw their eyes on his clothes, his makeup, his gold earrings, and then when they looked up to meet his eyes, he would smile, and they would immediately look away, feeling a bit shaken of being caught, and only then, they would start paying attention to their own destiny on the table.

“Lastly, this one, Chariot, it represents your Outcome.” He flickered his eyes, watching the woman tucked her hair back behind her ear as she leaned forward for a closer look. “It carries the meaning of victory, will power, assertion. Something is coming, something big, and it will change your belief, it will bring you to a brighter page, a new beginning. A success, I might say.”

Her irises blown a little, and a small gasp escaped between the gap of her red painted lips. Dick did love making people happy with the answers.

“So, that’s good, right?” She laughed out breathlessly, eyes on the card and back to him.

“It is, Miss.” Dick smiled, knowing she would do the same.

When he sent off the woman, it started raining. Gotham had been off mood lately, feeling like she would pour down anytime without giving a warning.  

The rain usually meant a silent and lonely night. Dick took a lungful of heavy humid air and eyed the little people and vehicles left on the street rushing for their closest destinations, needing a roof to cover themselves from the cruelness of Gotham’s winter.

He went back and lightened some new candles that he had bought yesterday at the outdoor market. He went to his chamber to grab a coat then turned back to clean the cards of the table, and put away the glass and blow off the cups of scentless candles that he had lighted up when the woman had first walked in.

He was taking off his earrings when the knock came. He didn’t expect any visitor at this late, and more particularly, under this weather. But the sound went off again, clearer this time, as if making sure to kick Dick’s doubt away.

He couldn’t help but frown as the knock kept continuing when he made way to the door, it was more like bashing now, guaranteed a not very well-mannered guest.

“Yes?” He said before he could see, in a low and not so welcome way that the normal polite him would have not done.

Dick didn’t panic when he saw him, but surprise would have been a way too light word to put it.

He was close, close enough that all Dick could first see was his fiery pale blue eyes. He was soaked, wet from tip to toe like a rat under the sewer. The black hair was pushed back in a way that Dick imagined was a quick gesture to get the short wet locks out from sticking into his forehead. He shaved the sides though, leaving the total look in a clean and voguish style that seemed to be quite popular nowadays.

The man had to perch down to look at Dick, his frame too giant for Dick’s little porch, one big hand had already stood up above the door frame when Dick first opened the door.    

“Hey.” The quirk on those pale lips appeared as fast as it disappeared, and the rasp of his low voice pulled Dick out of the zone.

“I um…” He took a moment to look down and laughed out coldly, like a joke for himself was running through his head. “I saw the light, so I thought…”

For a man this big and this virile-looking, his mouth clearly didn’t seem to carry the same energy. He struggled to talk and to look at Dick like hadn’t thought clear before slamming his fist on the door like an angry Dwarf.

He stopped again, not quite meeting Dick’s eyes as if he was fighting his way for an explanation, but Dick didn’t mind the ungraceful semibreve of his sentence at all. It gave him time to read this man, this strange striking young man.

There was something about him, something that screamed louder than others’ in the list of all the strange and different people Dick had met in Gotham. Maybe it just simply because the man was shockingly good looking, or it was because the look of his, as he stood here, drenched in the ice-cold rain, big and tall and just a hint of lost.

What an odd, he wondered.

“Can I get in?”

Again, his voice did near to startle Dick, as he was lost once again, too busy construing a clearer image of this interesting stranger.

“Do you know who I am?” He cocked his head aside, smiling as if it was what he was born to do.

“Yeah, the sign says it quite pacifically.” He laughed again, still, the tedious sound that didn’t carry much joy in it, but at least this time, it stayed.

“What’s the problem?”

“Nothing at all. You just don’t look like someone would go to a fortune teller asking for a direction.”

This time, a half-hearted grin crept on the man’s face, he looked down as if to mock his own before facing Dick.

“Yeah, it’s just… I don’t know, one hell of a day for me, you know. So why don’t make it count?!”

“Well then, we better do. Come on in.”

Dick led the way and turned to give his stranger an amused smirk when he crunched down the door frame to get in. He lighted on some more candles, dropping a few drops of lavender extract because the smell always calmed the customer’s mind and made their head a bit womby.

He was looking around, and Dick didn’t blame him, after all, a fortune teller’s house had always been too close to a witch habitat in fairy tales. His eyes skimmed over Persian rugs on the wall, the dream catchers slouched down from Dick’s old candle style chandelier, black and white pictures and all the stuff that he had placed around for his own liking. He went next to one of Dick’s cabinets and looked at the burning candles and the lavender branches on the top of it.

Dick couldn’t help but find amusement crept up down the pit of his belly when he watched the huge wet man staring down at the small, fragile flames like the big bad wolf looking at the little Red riding hood. He went to the other room to take all the tools that he had put away earlier, went to the chamber to put back his earrings and some of the bracelets, and made a note to grab some towel and a fresh pair of clothes on the way.

When Dick got back, the man had already kicked his black, wet and heavy-looking boots into a corner next to the feet of his platera. He was still looking around in curiosity, but had already been on his seat, right where he should be on the table.

Dick smiled and went over to give him the towel and clothes.

“Take off your clothes and change, I’ll give you some privacy.”

His stranger looked up at him fast enough to make it look like Dick had startled him, he looked calm though, quite surprised, but calm.

“I’m sure I’ll be quick, so you don’t have to do this.”

“Then at least dry yourself, you’re dripping all over my carpet.”

Only then that he looked down and realized that the bohemian rug down his feet was getting big wet spots slowly blooming wider as water from his big, black and cozy looking long coat continued to drip down like a tap that had been carelessly turned off.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” He shot off the chair and quickly shrugged off the coat and dumped it next to the boots where the rug didn’t cover.

“Then change.” Dick smirked and turned back to his kitchen behind the heavy curtains.

He put the kettle on and slowly hummed the melody of an Irish lullaby that he couldn’t quite remember where and when he had heard. When the tea was ready, he brought it out only to see his stranger struggle with the gray hoodie he had given him earlier.

“Uh… clothes are a bit tight.” He shrugged awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.

True, the sweats showed quite a gap above his ankles, the thick fabric of the hoodie was stretched tightly around his arms and chest, and the edge of the top didn’t quite meet the pants, promised to show skin even with the smallest movement.

Those were the biggest that Dick owned, ones that he hadn’t thought that he would ever be able to fit in. A large bundle of black had made its home down the feet of his platera, and Dick had thought, that out of all those big and heavy clothes, his stranger would at least looked a bit human-sized, apparently, he did not, and it just made the scene look quite absurd seeing a man this size got squeezed tight in his clothes.

He did his best to suppress his smile from getting any bigger, and went to the table, sat down and started pouring out the chamomile tea, hoping the drink would bring some warm back to the rain-soaked man standing right the opposite.

His stranger observed his movement for a minute, then slowly, awkwardly sat down the chair. He pushed his lips into a thin line as he did his best to meet the surface of the wooden chair without ripping any item on his body apart. He took the cup from Dick’s hand with a breathy “thanks” and took a sip, closing his eyes.

“Man, this stuff’s good.”

That pushed a laugh full of wind out of Dick.

“It’s on the house.”

When the cup got up again, Dick saw the expanding curl on the corner of his lips, bold and charming, it fit the whole look of him.

“So, what do you want to know?”

“What?” He put down the cup, head leaned ahead, looking a bit confused.

“Everyone comes here with a question, so what is yours?”

He went silent, and Dick started to assume he hadn’t had any particular reason in his minds when his legs had taken to his place. His stranger leaned back against the chair, his tongue played with the inside of his cheek and he stared aside for a moment before turning back.

“Alright, tell me my future.” He shrugged, so casually, and so easy to predict. For people like him, a typical question like that was habitually being used as a front for something else, something bigger that deep down they craved for an answer, but never dared to find out.

Besides, who he thought Dick was to shrug so nonchalantly like that and expected him to not find out, that he didn’t even pay half of his heart for what he had said.

“Something tells me you’re not that interested in your future.”

His eyes finally met Dick’s this time, and he couldn’t help but grin, because the neglectfulness in them had disappeared. The faintness of a grin that had ghosted on his face before, that must have always been there like a mask shielded him away from what people wanted to know, slowly slipped off. And there was something changed in his eyes, like inside, his stranger was building up another wall, one that he hadn’t thought he needed to when he first saw Dick, but clearly, now that he had realized that had been an underestimate.

“So, let me ask you again.” Dick leaned further, and entwined his fingers before resting his chin on them. “What do you want to know?”

He looked defensive now, not that he showed that out clearly, it was just Dick had always been too good at reading people. He looked aside, thinking and avoiding Dick’s smile. Fair enough, not everyone was comfortable with an open-hearted gesture. Some would shy away, some might see it as overwhelming, his stranger was one of those.

Patience was the key for times like this, for people like him to open up, first question was always the most important, because once succeeded, they wouldn’t be able to stop, because one block was all it needed to take down the whole domino wall.

Those eyes were looking at him now, a blank stare that was sharper than a hot knife through butter. It took time, it always did.

“Alright,”

Patient, he had said, then the shell would open on its own.

“Tell me everything.”

Now that was what he had been waiting for: a question from the heart.

Like a peacock spreading its tail, Dick pulled out the cards inside his sleeves and casted them into a circle in a blink of an eye, mouth twitched into a smirk as he observed his stranger slightly gasped at the sight.

“Shall we begin?”

[dreamarieblog]

OH HEY BLACK FRIDAY

READ IT IN 3 minutes

  NO TALKING. LET’S GET SHOPPING.

  + DECIEM AKA THE ORDINARY: HOLY MAN. Okay so I was trying to purchase for the past hour and it went through. SO don’t panic. Last year 3 of their servers went down. CAUSE THEY HAVE THE BEST BLACK FRIDAY KITS EVER. Like this cleanser I’m buying regular $50 for $9….. GO NOW.

+ Red Flag Deals: Here is where you can scope out allllllll the deals. They do EVERYTHING. Love this site.

+ Amazon: THE BEST Black Friday deals!!

+ Aritzia: BLACK FIVEDAY. 50% OFF INSTORE AND ONLINE!!! Select winter/fall products for FIVE DAYS.

+ ASOS: USE CODE:EPIC30 for an extra 30% off everything until Cyber Monday. 

+ Bath and Body Works: STARTS RIGHT NOW. Mix and match the ENTIRE STORE buy 3, get 3 free. Get your hands on their VIP tote filled with goodies worth $115 for only $25 {early bird pricing} WITH A $30 PURCHASE OF ANYTHING. USE CODE: TOTESFAB.

PS: TWISTED PEPPERMINT IS MY ULTIMATE FAVORITE SOAP I WAIT EVERY YEAR FOR THIS ONE THEY ONLY HAVE DURING THE HOLIDAYS!

+ Best Buy: BEST BUYS SALE!! Their sale items actually start TONIGHT (Nov 23rd, 2017) AT MIDNIGHT!!!!!

+ Forever 21: gahhhhh okay SO. An additional 30% off sale items with code: EXTRA30.  50% off site wide with code: EXTRA50. Lastly, items are going for up to 80% off + FREE shipping right now!!!

+ Nordstrom: THE HOLY GRAIL. EARLY20% off sale items start NOW. 

+ Old Navy: 50% OFF AT CHECKOUT!! Their jackets and basics are SO cute. Stock up on holiday jammies too!!

+ Revolve: ON NOW. Up to 50% off!! Here is the link. 

+ Sephora: Guys download the Sephora app now for a preview of their Black Friday sale. ONLINE ONLY, LIMITED QUANTITIES. Stretch, breathe, GO. 

+ Sugarfina: K. INSIDER SCOOP ALERT. Each day they are having a new deal. FULL disclosure, I’m using their text links because honestly, it’s just quicker haha:

–It’s a Sweet Black Friday! Buy Any 3 Candy Bento Boxes® Get 1 Free with code SWEETFRIDAY (valid 11/24). –Sugarfina’s Saturday after Black Friday promo! Get a Free Milk Chocolate Champagne Bears® Bar with every $45 you spend! Use code: CHOCOLATEBAR (valid 11/25) –Sugarfina’s Sunday after Black Friday promo! Free Dark Chocolate Champagne Bears® when you spend $75! Use Code: SUNDAYFUNDAY (valid 11/26) –Sugarfina’s Cyber Monday Promo! Get a Free 3pc Cheers Candy Bento Box® when you spend $75+ Use code: SWEETCHEERS (valid 11/27 – 11/28 3:00pm PST)

+ Garage: You KNOW I love their stuff. 40% off regular priced items and 30% off jackets!!!

+ Tarte cosmetics: Black Friday Preview! Take 25% off Almost Everything with code: PREVIEW at tarte.com. Valid 11/22-11/23

+ Wayfair: UP TO 70% OFF!!!! One of my fav website for interior design/decor. Some of their furniture isn’t super well made BUT, I have had the best success with their rugs, pillows, decor, patio furniture etc. I bet their Xmas trees are amazing too.

+ DAVIDsTEA: YESSSS TEA PLZ! BOGO 50% off is BACK.

+ houzz: UP TO 80% OFF!

+ WestJet: AHHHH YES!!!! If you’re looking for a getaway now is the time people. BOOK BY TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!! Get on your coffee break and plan your getaway now.

 + REN SKIN: Okay. They are going big this year. Go HERE. 25% off and then use code: FREEGIFT for a free hand balm. Monday will be 30% off!!!

+ Kate Spade: UP TO 75% OFF!!! SUCH good home decor and presents for the women in your life. My BFF Janeil bought me the his and hers cocktail glasses for our engagement and we looooove them!

+ Kylie Cosmetics: OKAY. I don’t have the link yet but her sale IS COMING. She will be having a Black Friday + Cyber Monday deal so check back here soon.

+ FELONYCASE: 30% off site wide ON NOW. Use code: BFCM30

I’m also going to be updating this post REGULARLY throughout the weekend so STAY TUNED.

UPDATES

  xxoo Drea Marie

The post OH HEY BLACK FRIDAY appeared first on Drea Marie Blog.

from OH HEY BLACK FRIDAY

[silversnaffles]

Okay so whilst I wanted to vent about this, I didn’t want to just in case but my mum’s been telling people irl so I’m gonna do it. (this is super, super long so idc if no one reads, I just wanna get it off my chest).

I’m annoyed at Star’s (and Amber’s) loaners. The family who loan them are a mother and her two young daughters (a 9 year old and 13 year old). They’ve been having a hard time, and mum wanted the old girls to have some attention so she offered them on loan with the only ‘payment’ being mucking out the girls’ paddock. Initially this worked out well, Star had a little girl gushing over her and they were both being lightly ridden (I had still been hacking Star out so she was fine). But then the mucking out started to slip, as well as the actual care itself.

We stupidly took it for granted. They were always gushing over how much they love the mares and mum had known the mother for years, so we assumed the mares were being properly cared for. We’d check on them in the paddock and do their water and stuff, but that was it. 

Alarm bells should’ve rung when I brought Amber in a couple of months ago to change her rugs when I found her hair falling out of her belly, and loads of scabs and dried puss underneath. I assumed it was a simple mistake, I sometimes forget to check the bellies too. I cleaned up and applied some silver spray and told them and my mum to keep an eye on it.

Now, since then we’d been concerned with how the mother had started to leave the girls to do their own things with the mares, despite wanting to loan them to teach the girls to ride. The 13 year old is fine left to her own devices as she just likes to groom Amber (and with Amber being 32, this is fine). However, the 9 year old has started trotting Star constantly. Just up and down in straight lines. Even under Star’s thick cushings coat, you can see her condition isn’t great from the winter and her back legs are stiff from the arthritis (the mother told me she’d look into joint supplements but never did), but the kid just keeps trotting.

Also Star has started to be aggressive towards the kid. Star has never bit anyone. She is essentially a little quiet push button pony, a total angel. But she’s started biting. I found this to be bizarre as she’s great with kids (even when she was a nervous wreck she was great with kids on the ground). So I checked the saddle they had for her (which we gave them in the summer when Star was overweight). It was huge on her, because she dropped weight I had to find out her narrow saddle. If they had checked the saddle and told me, I’d have sorted this out much earlier. Anyway Star kept biting, she just started to move a bit better from the saddle change. So, something else was bugging her, and it seems it’s the kid as she runs Star around constantly and is always screeching.

There is also the issue of the stiff legs and bad fitting saddle, I suggested to the loaner to get the physio out for at least one session as it’ll really help Star. Now it’s like £40 a session and she told me she didn’t have the money for that which I thought was fair enough and decided I was going to do it when I was next paid. But then she went and got a license to own a zebra?? That’s right, she wanted to buy a zebra. And then started to ask my mum and our friend if either of them would loan a share horse with her, OR if she could bring onto the land a 11.2hh loan pony for the kids? Like no? You can only come up at weekends, and even then it’s always late in the afternoon/evenings and you barely muck out so we’d end up caring for it, and you can’t afford one physio session what makes you think you could afford another pony?

There’s also the issue of Star’s coat. Normally Star is clipped all the time since she was a show pony, and it also helped manage her cushings. But last autumn, our clippers broke so we weren’t able to clip her. This didn’t bother us too much since the temperature was dropping anyway, and when the wet came we threw waterproof rugs on to keep her dry. However, as we’ve been approaching Spring, I’ve been essentially nagging the loaners to get her clipped as she’s going to start to overheat in that coat. It took like two months for her to actually reach out to someone to get her clipped and that was two weeks ago, and she still hasn’t worked out a date. Luckily, we made an emergency buy and bought some clippers due to what I found the other day.

When I was mucking out the field with Star and Amber in (and Amera now as Tara has recently started being stabled), I noticed Star’s eye was extremely gunky. So I dropped everything and took her (or dragged her since she’s now lost all enthusiasm since the loaners started) to the yard to clean up her eye and give her eye drops, and I also decided to take off her rug as it was clear it was too warm for her and the rug was pulling on her withers. Whilst she was with me I decided to give her a groom, and the one side was alright, but then I got to the next side and all of her belly was covered in matted fur. So, I ended up sitting on the floor cutting away at all of it. Then I found multiple bald patches. HUGE ones. like the size of my hands. And she was so so quiet. It’s clear that these patches and matted fur have developed over a few weeks, and they’ve still been tacking her up so I have no idea how they never noticed. My mum reckons that the kid only grooms the one side if that. 

In a state of panic, we called out the vet. Turns out, after the mini break out of lice we had last year (which me and my mum thought we got on top of), they didn’t treat the mares for lice. So amongst Star’s extremely thick cushings coat she had thousands of lice and they didn’t notice. It also explains how Amera’s suddenly become itchy again, I put it down to shedding. 

Anyway, the vet recommended getting her clipped asap and then applying some of this strong lice treatment and to treat all of our other horses again. She also did bloods, as for the past five years we’ve been naturally managing Star’s cushings but it’s clear that she now needs meds.

So since, Friday, I’ve been bringing Star in myself every day to treat her eye, groom her, feed her, and also applied some lice powder to keep her going until the clippers arrive (hopefully tomorrow), and she’s started to perk up a bit. Her eye is now pretty much clear, and yesterday when she finished her dinner she picked up the bucket between her teeth and threw it at me and then proceeded to bite the lead rope and pull at it. The fact she’s doing these small things again, shows she’s slowly getting back to her old self again. She was also a little git earlier and ran away when she realised I wanted to sort her eye out (but then realised she could only be fed if she had her eye done so let me catch her).

I do feel awful complaining like this, they are nice people (except for the 9 year old I honestly cannot stand her. I love the 13 year old, she’s a sweetheart but I’m always super close to strangling the youngest) and I do love the mother, and I do think they love the ponies. BUT I can’t let this slide. That is my pony that isn’t being cared for properly. And even if the bald patches had only suddenly developed in a couple of days, that doesn’t excuse the matted fur. My mum was livid and so was our friend on the yard with us (she owned Star from the ages of 9 months to 3 years old before she gave her to us). 

We’ve told them that Star can’t be ridden anymore because of her arthritis, which is pretty true atm. We’re hoping we can get her condition back and she can be shown in-hand again next year (this year is obviously going to be a no-go) as she loves going out. And maybe, if she does get better and the physio helps, I’ll lightly hack her out again to keep her busy. Whilst I’m tall, I’m still quite light (which I don’t look, I know, but I promise I’m under 10 stone, nearly 9 stone - I was 9 stone but I put on a bit of weight over winter), and through only riding her for years I know to move with her so she’s not put off balance. I just need her weight and condition back, but we’ll have to wait till all of that fur is gone so we’ll have a better idea on how to feed her.

We also have a new stable being built so Merlin can move out of her stable into his own, and she can be stabled with Merlin, Tara and Arthur. Then we can feed her as much as we want and have better control of her diet. We would put her own more grass but because of her lami/cushings we can’t risk it. 

I’m just hoping they return her tack soon as we told them she can’t be ridden but they still have her saddle, bridle, girth, saddle pads, new market exercise fleece and brushing boots. My mum and friend don’t quite trust them not to ride her, and tbh the way the kid kept taking on and off her bridle the other day and begging to ride, I don’t either.

If they do decide to stop loaning her and Amber, I seriously hope they return all of our tack. Whilst a lot of it is old, all of it together is still worth a fair bit (not so much Star’s narrow saddle, that thing is falling to pieces) and would be difficult to replace (or pointless since the mares are getting on). 

We do hope the novelty will wear off soon and they’ll move on, we don’t want to end on bad terms so we won’t do it ourselves (fingers crossed they’ll give me my tack back if they do leave)

Honestly though, I cried on Friday when I found out how Star is. She was right under my nose the whole time and I assumed they looked after her properly and left them to it, but I was wrong, and now I feel like a bad mom. I’m going to make up for it to her. That pony is going to be super pampered from now on (which she was before tbh, it was them that I stopped pampering her for as I thought they'd do that for them)