#i am the yippie cat right now (JUMPING)

[sugarsodaa]

Hi! Hello! Greetings! Whaddup! Hey! Sup! It's Nagito from that HopeOfLies blog! I'm Hero and Nagito! Guess which one I am today, and you win a virtual happi highfive!! Eheheheheheehe

(This can be ignored if I'm annoying. I'm just so damn bored...)

AH OH MY HELLO !!! this is so cool,, i'm so happy !! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

hmm, maybe hero ?? regardless of whether i got it right or not you get appreciation chomps 'cause you're super cool >:3 nomnommom !!!

also,, you're not annoying at all !!! i love getting asks n stuff ,, talking with people is always really fun 💗

thanks for stopping byyy (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

[blackacre13]

hey I just found out about this AO3 on twitter, And I found your works and I am obsess with 'em now. Just want to say you are my favourite writer rn. Can we please have The Proposal AU part 5? or even better can you please make a book of it

Hi! Ah yay, welcome to the clusterfuck! Not sure what you mean by a book, but here's a link to all parts of The Proposal AU that exist so far in one spot! https://lexicallogan.wixsite.com/blackacre13/the-proposal 

UPDATED AS OF 9/18/22!!!

Last part was part 10 here; here's part 11! (I accidentally originally wrote two variations of part 10, so you may have already read this, but I have altered it slightly to make it work following the true part 10 and re-labeled for future convenience/so we are re-organized and accurate pre-part 12 which is dropping soon!)

“Watch out for Daphne,” Ida warned.

“Daphne?” Lou asked. “That an ex girlfriend of yours I should know about?” The blonde teased, brushing shoulders with Debbie as she merely laughed.

“You wish,” Debbie smirked. “That’s Daphne,” she grinned, gesturing to a little white ball of fluff that was jumping up and down beyond the glass patio door.

“Yippy little thing,” Ida smiled. “So much energy. Just watch out for your ankles, Lou. She likes to nibble.”

“Who could blame her?” Lou tried to joke, glaring daggers at the little dog as they moved into the house, Debbie laughing at the almost 6 foot tall woman shooting murderous looks at a dog that could fit inside a purse.

“I take it you’re more of a cat person?” Debbie whispered.

“You know I like pussy,” Lou rolled her eyes, starting to walk ahead faster to keep up with Darlene as Debbie tripped over herself a bit, her cheeks turning pink.

Debbie cleared her throat, trying to shake ridiculous thoughts and images from her mind as Ida held her back, Debbie left looking forlornly at her mother as she carted Lou away from her. She couldn't hide her nerves from her grandmother.

“So," Debbie started, taking a deep breath. "How exactly did you hear that we were getting married?” Debbie asked.

“You mean besides that crater on your finger?” Ida laughed. “I may be old, but I’m far from blind, Deborah.”

Lou tossed her a smirk from a few feet away as if applauding herself for the impromptu ring selection.

“I mean we had our guesses,” Darlene giggled, turning around as she pinned Lou to her side, elbowing her with a grin. “Debbie’s always so secretive and work keeps her so busy we barely have time to talk, even when she has news. No offense to you, Lou, dear. But you run a tight ship. But a mother always knows, right? And then there was that man from the government? I can’t remember his name. But said he was checking up on you two.”

“Checking up?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow, unceremoniously dumping their belongings behind the couch. Dennis already nowhere to be found. He was always disappearing. To watch the game. Into his study. Out by the water. It barely phased Debbie anymore. Even if she was here to announce her engagement and had flown here specifically to share that with her family. Not that any of this was real...

“Lou’s from Australia,” Darlene continued, as if it wasn’t obvious from the accent.

“Crikey,” Danny whispered, rolling his eyes just as Debbie pinched him, the older Ocean crying out in protest.

“You would think they’re still in elementary school the way they act around each other,” Ida snorted. “Don’t let them get to you, dear,” Ida smiled, reaching out to pat at Lou’s shoulder as she smiled awkwardly in response.

“What did you say to him, mom?” Debbie asked, pushing Ida’s hand off Lou as she smacked Danny a second time for good measure. “Seriously.”

Darlene shrugged, her eyes turning to study Lou as Debbie watched the blonde's eyes grow wide with overwhelm.

“Just that you were coming home this weekend and we hadn’t seen you in a while,” Darlene spoke, turning back to her daughter. “And that you’d told us about Lou for years, but that we’d never met her.”

“I mean, Lou, dear,” Ida laughed. “The way Debbie talked about you? I’ll admit, I did not see this coming.”

“Me either,” Lou smirked, winking at Debbie as her cheeks flushed red.

“Come on, honey,” Ida smiled at Lou, taking her hand gently. “Let me show you around the house. Deborah can play some catchup with her mother for a few.”

Lou seemed genuinely grateful for Ida’s sweetness, but also shot Debbie a desperate look, not ready to be separated without a chance to set their stories straight before they were each isolated with a family member, but Darlene wouldn’t hear it, shooing Lou and Ida towards the other room as Danny fumbled with their bags again, pretending to be helpful no doubt, but not actually caring.

“Deborah,” her mother frowned, eyeing her seriously for a moment. “You know you can tell us anything, sweetie, right?”

“Of course,” Debbie sighed, kicking at the tire as she looked down at the driveway.

“Then what’s with all this secrecy?” She whispered. “And I mean, of course she’s stunning. That’s clear. But the way you’ve spoken about her for all these years…”

“It wasn’t a secret,” Debbie sighed, feeling defensive. “We just…didn’t tell anyone, alright? I mean it’s hard. I’m her assistant. She’s high up at the company. What would people think? What did you guys think? Things…change, mom. I don’t know.”

“They do say the line between love and hate is rather thin,” Darlene thought aloud, considering her daughter for a moment. “I should be mad at you. But gosh, I’m just so excited! I mean a wedding! Debbie, this is big.”

“It really is,” the brunette grumbled, starting to follow her mother towards the house.

“Oh!” Darlene exclaimed, suddenly spinning around. “I have the most wonderful idea! Danny, listen. What do you two think? For Ida’s birthday this weekend. What if you and Lou got married right here?”

“What if pigs could fly?” Danny snickered under his breath as Debbie swallowed thickly.

[letsperaltiago]

🌟 HAPPY 12TH OF DECEMBER: DOOR TWO 🌟

Welcome to door two of four!

Behind my Christmas calendar’s second door is a... dating, kind of early-relationship, Peraltiago Christmas oneshot! ♥️ 

Summary: Amy feels like Christmas is crumbling around her and when the stress becomes too much, boyfriend Jake steps in and takes care of it.  Takes place somewhere right before S03 E10: Yippie Kayak. 

Rating: G 

 Words: 4k (just barely)

Read on AO3 here

🎁⬇️OPEN DOOR TWO HERE ⬇️🎁

my gift to you is all my heart

Christmas 2015 is the most special one so far, Jake dares to admit - and that’s coming from a guy who really couldn’t care any less about the season of families pretending to be picture-perfect and a 'shallow but pour some glitter on it'-kind of joy. Slap some red and green colors on an otherwise dysfunctional world and call it a happy place for a month or two.

It’s not that he wants or aspires to hate Christmas; it’s not that he wants to be the cynical one in a crowd of happiness and optimism. There just happens to be a lot of wounds, never fully healed scars, from the many lonely Christmases he spent as a child and teenager. Between his dad considering his parental role a part-time job and his mother working full-time to make a living for them, there wasn’t much - if anything at all - for Jake to love about the holidays and more specifically Christmas. On the contrary, the season rather emphasized how dysfunctional his family was...

Perhaps this year, he really hopes, the season of joy and light will feel more… like a season of joy and light. This year he has Amy which is an experience he’s never, obviously, had before and something he’s more than excited to try. His girlfriend loves Christmas and hopefully, it’ll rub off on him even though he’s surely the Grinch in their relationship the second Thanksgiving hits. It’s almost as if, for a month or so, he and Amy’s dynamic is completely flipped upside down. Not that he's calling his girlfriend a Grinch! Although, a secret to no one, Amy does take on a more serious role in their relationship. All that aside: the second the holidays come around, Amy is the most bubbly and cheery about silly, in Jake’s opinion, stuff like napkin-like turkey, too many pies, secret Santas, seizure-inducing fairy lights, and the only thing worse than normal vegetables: baked vegetables… Meanwhile, he’d rather isolate himself in his apartment, with his mayo-spoonsies and Die Hard, as the delusional world outside goes on.

Then again: he hasn’t had Amy around, at least as a girlfriend, before.

It’s a few days before Christmas eve. An evening he’s not looking forward to since Amy’s leaving tomorrow to spend the day and weekend at her parents’ place - which means not with him, and it’s definitely activating his so far decently subdued inner Grinch. How come Christmas wants to come off as this super jolly season when actually it forces him to be away from his girlfriend? What a scam.

About an hour ago he arrived at Amy’s place to find the door locked, which was weird considering that it was her precious day off. Luckily Amy’s already figured out that her boyfriend is of the clingy kind, which she enjoys, so she’s given him a key to her place. This so he can - quote Amy - “Come and go as you please. Like a cat. A really cute, hot cat.”

He’d chuckled at her comment, then kissed her out of sheer happiness because he has a girlfriend that wants him to have a key to her place! A girlfriend who wants him to drop by and cuddle her, laugh with her and annoy her - whenever!

And so here he is: flopped down on his girlfriend’s couch, watching Die Hard, since it’s the only Christmas movie he can stand to watch. He’d sent her a text telling her he was here, making sure he wouldn’t scare her whenever she was to arrive, but alas never heard anything back. This he suddenly realizes as Hans Gruber is taking the people inside of Nakatomi plaza hostage. He hopes she’s okay, suddenly feeling a bit worried. However, the feeling doesn’t last for long. Basically stumbling through the door comes Amy holding what looks like a thousand shopping bags, which impresses Jake so much that he misses the worried frown and sweaty glow on her forehead.

Being the good boyfriend he is, something he takes a lot of pride in, he of course jumps from the couch to help her. “Hey, babe. Need any help?”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

His offer just barely manages to make it out of his mouth before she’s already dismissed him and disappears into her so-called happy place - in reality, a room dedicated to all of her books and crafts.

Even though he doesn't comment on it, it's unmistakably unusual behavior for her. “You sure? I can do whatever you need; help you unpack, make you some coffee, look cute…”

In her little office, Amy is marching, all at once systematically and chaotically, around the room like the devil is after her. It’s as if he isn’t there, as if she’s avoiding him, and just barely takes the time to stop and throw him a vague glance. “Jake, please. I just need some space. I have presents to wrap and… stuff.”

Oh. Space. The word doesn't go by unnoticed and makes Jake's stomach drop. Space is usually not a good word when coming from a partner, he’s experienced, and this time around it seems to sting that much more than back with Sophia. Is this the end of him and Amy already?

Everything they've done runs through his mind with the speed of light. Things were going so well, he thought. Just yesterday they’d been snuggling on her couch, sharing lazy kisses and giggles as their favorite show (they have a show!!) played in the background. Things like “I love my family but I can’t wait to see you again after Christmas” and “Can you believe how far we’ve gotten since this time last year?” were said, making Jake feel so infatuated and sure. They'd even kissed and made stupid remarks at each other under the mistletoe Jake put up in the door frame leading to her bedroom.

Now, suddenly, it seems as if he’s the last person Amy wants around. Without even consciously deciding to do so he backs away from the tiny office, thus allow his girlfriend some… space. God, he hates that word and every memory associated with it.

Communication is key, Jake knows. However, it’s not as if it went well the last time he kicked down the doors when a girlfriend asked for space. Hence why he doesn’t dare to kick down any doors, literally or metaphorically, when the one to Amy’s office is closed.

He doesn’t know what to do; he doesn’t know what he can do? Make coffee - he can do that right? At this point, he isn't sure of anything. His heart starts beating faster and faster against his ribs, and he knows it’s because, maybe not that deep down, he’s afraid. Afraid of losing the possibly best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Coming from behind the shut door Jake can hear thumps and paper rustling. Jake isn’t the big Christmas-connoisseur but even so, he finds, what he believes is, Amy’s present-wrapping abnormally loud and chaotic - something that seems as unlike Amy as can be. He’s brewing a pot of coffee, for the both of them, something he hopes will be well-received, when suddenly the sounds coming from his girlfriend’s furious wrapping-project goes silent. All at once, with a thump, as if she’s hit a wall.

The silence lasts, and though Jake expects the rustling to pick back up any second, it doesn’t. He can feel himself grow considerably more worried. A big part of him, the one that’s still suffering Sophia’s actions even though he is fully and completely over her, haunts him. It feels a lot like being in a tug-of-war between pressing his way into the room, thus whatever is going on with Amy, and staying back and out of his girlfriend’s sudden need for space.

What does it for him is the sound of a loud mix between a groan and a whine. He has to go in, he quickly decides. Gently he pushes open the door, just enough for him to peak his head inside the room, and the sight before him certainly doesn’t calm his nerves: Amy, sitting at her little office desk with her computer before her, with her face buried in her hands and ripped wrapping paper surrounding her. He can’t tell if she is, but just the thought of her crying makes his heart wrench.

“Amy?”

The way her posture completely changes in reaction to the sound of his voice, from hunched over the desk to sitting straight up, as if she’s hiding something surely can’t be good. Even though she tries to be discreet about it, Jake can tell how she quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hands. In a motion she hopes is discreet but isn't. If Jake’s poor heart wasn’t scratching the bottom of his gut already then it definitely is now. Still, he pushes the door wide open and tries one more time with a voice so soft and attentive that usually only comes out when they’re being really emotional; something he’s trying to grow into and better at. For her.  

“Ames… Are you okay?”

Even though there’s no one else but them in the apartment - hopefully, it is Brooklyn, after all - he closes the door behind him to give them some privacy.

“I’m fine, Jake.”

Fine is definitely not how she sounds, a shakiness to her voice, and how she looks averting his gaze, rather diverting her eyes to her laptop screen. To make it even clearer she starts typing - she isn’t fine. Anything that can keep her busy and from unveiling the true colors of the situation seems to be on her agenda.

The urge to back out is so strong, overwhelming, and Jake quickly recognizes the old, certainly bad habit. Although this time around, with Amy before him like this - hunched over and so far from the confident Amy he knows - he also feels the opposing yearning to stay and challenge his former habits. For himself, for Amy, for them - the best six months of his life. Seven, to be precise. The fact that he cares to keep up with this, how long they've been together, says a lot about where he’s at. With her he’ll count every month, week, day, hour, minute and second he gets to be with her.

Emotions are key. He needs to do emotions - the very serious kind.

“You’re…” he halts for a second, feeling as if he’s about to jump off a cliff - not that he's ever tried it before. But it must feel scary. Kind of like this right now. “You're not fine. Obviously.”

Slowly he walks towards her and, after hesitating with his hands waiting in the air above her, contemplating whether it's what he should do or not, he places his hands on her shoulders. The way she stiffens under his touch has him alarmed, but just as quickly as she's tensed up she relaxes. As if she realizes she can safely surrender whatever fears or worries she has to him.

“Tell me what’s wrong - please. Is it something I did?”

“No!” She flies around in her seat to face him to hopefully undo whatever worries about them she's ignited. The first thing Jake notices then is her somewhat red eyes and a look that begs for him to believe her. Hesitantly, he does. Still, it doesn’t make the sinking feeling in his stomach vanish.

Amy turns back around in her seat to face the lit laptop to hide. Frustrated she runs her fingers through her otherwise perfect hair and ruins her perfect ponytail; small tufts of hair on the loose and going in whichever direction they please. Something he's only used to seeing first thing in the morning or late in the afternoon before bed. And even though Jake loves sleepy Amy, morning hair, makeup-free face and all, he wants nothing more than to fix her hair for her, carefully weave the flyaways back into the otherwise still somewhat neat ponytail.

“Ames, I’m just kinda worried. Tell me what’s up, please… Even if it has something to do with me.” His hands never let go of the soft grip on her shoulders as he says this. Right now holding on to her feels like the only grounding element in his universe. She suddenly feels tense under his touch again and he hates that he might be the one doing this to her.

“It’s really... stupid.”

His eyes wander across the lit laptop screen in hopes of a possible hint. USPS Tracking Service.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid, babe.”

“I just-” her hand reaches for the mouse but then hesitates as if touching it will expose her. Either way, she decides to go for it; she grabs the mouse and opens the program containing, what he recognizes as, her day to day calendar - the step down from her life calendar. "I bought this really beautiful necklace for my mom for Christmas…”

He figures they’ve got some time ahead of them and gently pulls over an extra chair for him to sit on. In his seat next to her he follows the cursor on her screen, flying all over the different dates, boxes, color-coded labels and appointments - the many perfect elements of a Santiago-calendar.

“But then earlier, a few subway stops before home, I got an email from USPS saying that the package's arrival would be delayed! So I tried to work a timeslot into my schedule, for me to shop for a new gift from my mom, but it’s impossible." Every word flies out of her so fast she can barely catch her breath and the last part basically comes out of her in the tone of a wail. Jake can easily sense that she’s riled up and is making it hard for herself to calm down. With every word, she grows more and more frantic, panicky, as she switches back to the window with her calendar. What he sees shows, indeed, no room for gift shopping. He knows she thrives on it but he sometimes wonders how his girlfriend lives her life, densely packed, like this.

“I knew it’d be hard to fit in, with me working a full shift tomorrow, the polar swim and then leaving for my parents’ right after, but I thought it'd be possible! Turns out it isn’t... I’ve tried to re-arrange the next 24 hours in my calendar in every way thinkable and nothing works. Nothing.”

“Honey...” he consoles, calmly placing a hand on top of hers. On his face is a small smile, one that can rest in the fact that there was indeed nothing wrong with them, even though he of course feels some concern for his girlfriend who is clearly completely beside herself. Though she's finally speaking up rather than shutting him out, it's obvious that it doesn't come easy to her and there's a vulnerability to her panicky explanation. But it's not, never will be, something that'll scare him away. "... It's okay."

"No, it's not, Jake!"

Yelling isn't exactly the right term but it's clear that the two are of a different point of view.

"I had ordered my mom the perfect Christmas present, one that would so surely beat my brother David's, and now? It's ruined. I won't receive the stupid present in time and I don't have time to shop for a replacement, which, either way, will be less good. I might as well stay home for Christmas this year and spare myself the embarrassment."

It takes a beat of silence for Jake to assemble his thoughts and form an answer. The smile from before is once again back; he knows how to kill her insecurities - with kindness.

"While I would not mind you staying here with me..." He leans in to place a soft peck on her shoulder. "... I'm sure there's no way your mother would want you to stay away simply because of something as silly as a present - no offense."

"Jake, I appreciate your support but you don't know her like I do."

Though the situation reminds Jake of just how stubborn his girlfriend can be, something both frustrating but also endearing, he also remembers just how stubborn he can be. Maybe this time, for once, the latter can come in useful. If there's anything more stubborn than a panicked Amy then it's without a doubt a Jake who wants to see his girlfriend smile. He's a man on a mission - Amy's very own John McClane.

"Okay... I know I have a questionable track record but hear me out..."

She looks at him and for a second, upon seeing the anxiety in her eyes, he stutters to assemble himself one last time before showing her, at least trying to, that he can take control and help her handle her problems - even the worst which honestly isn't as bad as she might think. Softly, making sure to not alarm her, he reaches over to remove her hand from its tight grip on the mouse and replace it with his own. With it, he moves the cursor on the screen to point at the blue '9 AM to 5 PM'-time slot labeled Work, followed by a yellow 'Polar Swim'-slot at 5.30 PM.

"... I was supposed to be off a bit earlier tomorrow but let me fill in for you instead. You can leave at 4, go get your mom a gift, which she by the way will love, and make it back in time for the polar swim. I'll stay till 5 for you. I'll run the arrangement by Holt so you don't have to worry about it."

The silence is loud but not loud enough to hide her thinking; it screams through the way she bites her lip and eyes wander all over his face in search of some kind of truth. She turns her entire body in her seat to fully face him and, somehow, she suddenly looks both cheered up but also remorseful.

"Jake, thank you, but you don't have to do that for me. I know I'm just being crazy. My mom can do without a gift this year."

"Amy Santiago," he reprimands before grabbing both of her hands in his, making sure to keep a hold of her gaze in the process. "Maybe I don't have to but I want to. Ames, let yourself live out the full 'Peralta boyfriend'-experience. Also, stop calling yourself crazy when, in reality, you just care a lot. That's good; to care like you do."

Finally, after it being gone for so long, he catches a glimpse of her characteristic glow. Her eyes are also once again shiny and inspired, and he knows he's doing something right. Everything within him wants to do right for her. For a moment they quietly stay back, in each their seat, and look at each other with admiring eyes. Both wondering how they got so entangled in the other's very much different lives. Yet both eternally grateful. Amy's the first to break and throws her arms around his neck.

"You're the best, Jake," she declares with newfound peace of mind. "Thank you so much."

"No need to thank me." His arms have returned the favor and are securely wrapped around her waist. He's forever sure; nothing feels better than holding her like this. Happy. They stay like this for who knows how long, for seconds or hours, until Jake suddenly retreats into his seat and offers her a cocked brow along with a teasing smile.

"By the way... What's up with the wrapping paper-mess?"

"I had to test the new wrapping paper I got!"

He chuckles. God, he adores her.

"But why the mess?" He hicks a ripped piece of paper lying at his feet.

"Turns out I've bought the worst kind of wrapping paper and I got... pissed." She timidly looks down but still smiles, Jake hopes it's because she knows he likes her love and passion for all things crafty. They go silent and he can tell she's thinking. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, rather insecurely and not affectionately like she would with a double tuck.

"By the way..." She clears her throat then looks at him. Right in the eye. "I'm sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to cut you off and push you away like I did. That wasn't okay - at all. I just-" the words get tangled up and caught in her throat to which Jake reacts by reaching over and softly clutching her knee followed by a comforting squeeze. In his eyes, she sees an invitation to speak her mind and she wonders, every day, how she ever lived her life without him by her side like this. The least she can do is explain her actions, ones that were actually just caused by a stupid defense-mechanism.

"I just didn't want you to see this... unfavorable side of me, I guess. I know I can be a bit much."

"Amy," he coos hearteningly. "Of all the sides of you that I've seen, or you will come to show me as this relationship evolves, never have I ever found any of them unfavorable. You're not 'a bit much'... You're everything I want and need."

Though he doesn't dare say it, not quite yet, this feels a lot like an undefined definition of love - one, he's quite sure, comes from everything she's taught him, shown him, and made him feel these past seven months.

She leans over the gap between them. Their lips collide in a kiss so meaningful that it speaks louder and more clear than any words ever could. He tastes like cinnamon and coffee, and with him she feels safe, like there are no ugly truths about her for him to see through. Every day with Jake is like coming home is. It's no longer just unlocking and walking through a door: it's being herself, even during critical moments, and still feeling welcome in her boyfriend's embrace and eyes. Her hands cling onto his cheeks for dear life, pouring all her emotions into the soft movement of her lips, and it's the most accepted and cherished her A-type self has felt in a partner's presence. Who would've thought that this kind of string of emotions would be a reaction to the touch and care of Jake Peralta?

On his part, with the three magic words just barely clinging to his tongue, he internally decides to hold back and keep them for a more suitable moment. Even if, something he's learned from their relationship, there is no such thing as 'the right time'. 'The right time' is only a theory made up by hopeful, sometimes also hopeless, lovers. Much like themselves just barely a year ago. But with this one declaration, what he hopes will be the greatest I love you of his lifetime, he does want some control. The moment shouldn't be surrounded by ripped wrapping paper and tipped over shopping bags.

Hopefully, she can wait just a bit longer. Then he'll tell her, even yell at the top of his longs, that he loves her. He loves Amy Santiago.

[george-mackay-macfine]

Wedding plan,

Requested: No / Yes

Synopsis: George need Eleanore to make his ex jealous. Things go further than they both planned. 

Word Count: 2,320

A/N: This is an idea for a film I was writing, I hadn’t worked on it on years but wanted to turn it into a George fic cause I love the concept. This hasn’t been proof read,

To begin this, I need to relive the worst time of my life. The time my girlfriend of six years dumped me, out of nowhere. 

And to add insult to injury her older sister invited me to her wedding, with an additional plus one… 

So, I devised a plan to get her back, a plan which involved my best friend. Eleanore,

To begin I needed to get Eleanore and our friend Michael to agree to come with me, and that meant crashing their movie night.

Through the door to their apartment I could hear the music of Friday the thirteenth playing, and knowing how much Eleanore and Michael scare, I took it as an opportunity. 

As I slammed the door open Michael and Eleanore jumped, Eleanore throwing popcorn everywhere.  

“I know how I'm winning her back.” I stride into the living room, throwing the door closed behind me. 

“Bugger,” Michael moaned picking popcorn out of his wine glass. I sit in front of them on the coffee table. 

“Katherine, I know how I’m winning her back.” Eleanore picks popcorn out of her hair, throwing some of the kernels at me. 

“Yippie,” 

“Who are you again?” Michael snorts. I open my mouth to reply only to be cut off by Michael. “You kind of look like our old friend George, except our old friend George ditched us for some girl and her magical vagina,” Michael stands and sways past me into the kitchen,

“C’mon Michael, she’s not just some girl.” 

“He’s right Michael,” I look over to her and give her an appreciative smile. “The world girl isn't being properly used, Medusa may be a closer match?”

“Hey now, c’mon,” 

“But you're right. He does have similar features to Michael, for example this one also looks like a total dickhead.” She deadpanned. 

“Look I'm sorry guys. I am. I know I've been a shit mate these last couple of weeks.”

“Eight,” Michael called from the kitchen.

“What?”

“Couple means two, you've been a shit mate for longer than that.” Michael finishes, I look at Eleanore who nods her head in confirmation. 

“Fine. Eight weeks. Thank you Michael. And I'm sorry for that but guys. I need to see her.”

“She won't see me. Please.” Michael walks out from the kitchen and sits beside Eleanore on the couch. “Please.” 

“Fine, What’s your plan?” I pull the envelopes out of my top pocket and hold them towards him. 

“This.”

“You're going to write her a letter.” Eleanore raises her eyebrow. 

“Bit tame, don't you think mate?” Michael chuckles. 

“No, Felicity and Michael's wedding party. She'll be there as Bridesmaid, and we'll be there as guests.” 

“But we weren't invited.” Eleanore clicks her fingers and points at Michael in agreement.  

“But you were.” I fan the envelopes open, revealing the other two. Eleanore reaches forward and grabs the two addressed for Michael and herself. 

“Whose Felicity again?”

“You know this is criminal offence?” Eleanore spoke at the same time as Michael. 

“You know Felicity. She used to come to all the parties... She used to be…” I looked to Eleanore for help .

“Bigger…"

“O.” Michael studies his invitation before looking up to me. “I mean sure, you can show up to this thing looking like a total dish, but that's not really going to do anything to her is it? Not going to make her see what a narky cow she's been.”

“I dunno, I suppose I was just going to show up, and show her I've changed.” 

“That won't work. It's not going to get her blood pumping is it? Make her jealous.” Michael smirked before he looked to Eleanore. “Eleanore can be your date. For all Katherine knows in the time since she left you, you've gone and coozied up to Elle.”

“Yes, then when the wedding comes we can spend the week in Scotland showing her I've changed, and break up at the reception.” Eleanores face shifts to one of disgust. 

“You're mad. You think I want to spend a week in Scotland helping you win back your crazy ex-girlfriend.”

“Please Nore, you're the only one who could make it happen.”

“No I'm bloody not. She hates me, if anything that'll turn her against you even more, idiot.”

“She's a point there mate.” Michael clicks his fingers. I kneel in front of Eleanore and hold onto her hands. 

“She doens't hate you. She just isn't your biggest fan.” I began to plead. “Please. I love her, and I need to win her back.”

“Give me one good reason why I should help you."

“I'll give you two. One, you're my closest friends, two because I love her Eleanore. I need her with me.”

“No,” She stands up and walks towards the kitchen. I share a look with Michael. 

“... Thomas will be there.” Michael coo’s, Eleanore stops, spins slightly. 

“I'm listening.”

“Well, you and Thomas still have that super weird, sexual tension right?”

“You mean their game of cat and mouse they play?” I turned to Michael and raised an eyebrow. 

“It's not cat and mouse.”

"Then what would you call it?” I turned back to her. 

“Mutual use.”

“Well, why don’t you and George both mutually use each other?” Michael smirked. 

And that’s how we ended up here. My best friend Eleanore and I have spent the last four days hanging off one and other, all to irritate our ex’s, or in Elle’s case, 'ignite something in their loins’

I watched her from across the room as I rolled the joint between my fingers, gently rolling the thin cylindrical roll of goodness. 

“Turn on some music,” I called from my side of the room as I brought the wrapping to my lips, licking the open end of it. 

“On it,” Eleanore opened the window behind her, the cool chill of the Scottish night rushing over me. “Brings back memories doesn’t it?” I heard her call, eliciting a chuckle from behind me. 

“All the way back to our first year of University,” I heard her move to the floor where we’d created a nest of cushions and pillows and flip on the stereo. “You know, I always thought it’d be you and I,” I admitted, the wine from the nights dinner going to my head. 

“What?” 

“Second year of University. Remember we lived with Michael, Morgan, and Freddie in that shitty little house.” I looked at her, laying in the bed we’d made. Her cheeks flushed from the wine we’d drunk. 

“Course I remember,” I smiled, the warmth of the memories rushing through me as she looked at me.

“You always used to sneak into my bedroom late at night, after parties.” I finished rolling, “We’d sit out on the roof smoking cheap cigarettes and talk for hours about nothing.” I pulled out a lighter, “To me… back then it was everything.”

“George…"

”First time I met you, I promised myself that I would never fall in love with you, but it was three in the morning and we were laughing way too hard at something stupid,” I walked over and lay beside her, the now lit joint hanging from my lips. “And for the first time in a long time I felt happy, And that’s when I knew I was screwed.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” I passed her the joint, 

“I couldn’t lose you.” I gripped her hand as she put the joint between her lips and inhaled. “And then you started to date Thomas. God do you know what it’s like to feel that way about someone who doesn’t feel like that about you?” She slowly let the smoke out as I digested what I’d admitted. 

“It’s like drowning, but you won’t fucking drown.” I moved beside her, turning to look at her. God she’s beautiful.

“Who did you love?” She turned to face me, our noses brushing. 

“You,” She whispered. “Third year, after Thomas and I broke up for the first time and you’d just started dating Katherine…” She cleared her throat. “You weren’t home a lot… But when you were I sat there, three o’clock in the morning on top of the roof smoking cheap shitty cigarettes, falling in love with you. Your face, your voice. All of you,” I turned away from her, She didn’t move she was still looking at my face.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I whispered. 

“Like you, I was afraid of losing you. I’d become so attuned to having you in my life, that the thought of you being anywhere else scared the utter shit out of me.” I turned to look at her again. 

“You and I are just one big ‘it’s complicated’ aren’t we?” She let out another buff. 

“I think we’re just going to have to be secretly in love with each other, and leave it at that.” The music stops, I look away from Eleanore, she looks towards the stereo. One of us is going to have to move. 

“Not it,” I cried quickly. 

“Fucking christ, It’s closest to you George.” I shrug and takes the joint from her lips, popping it between my own. 

“I won, you move.” She groaned and rolled her body. She was partially laying onto of me as she began reaching above to grab the speaker. 

“Jesus, just grab it.” I groaned as her hair fell on my face. 

“It’s just ugh, I can’t reach it.” 

“Just get it,” 

“Fine.” She moved again, straddling my hips, moving to easily reach the speaker. I watched as the pendant slip out from beneath her shirt and dangle over my face.

“You still have this,” My hands grip the pendant, fingers moving over the metal as the music restarted. It was the pendant I’d given her for her birthday in second year. 

“Of course I do,” My hands move away from the pendant over her shoulders. My eyes run over her face. I sat up and leant back on my elbows watching her. 

“How come I haven’t noticed how beautiful you are lately?” She unconsciously moved down towards me. 

“Because you’ve been busy looking at someone else since third year.”

“What a bloody idiot,” I grabbed her and pulled her towards me. My lips meeting hers, I felt the hesitation, and tasted the red wine that stained them. “Don’t think about it,” I whispered before my tongue touched hers. My hands begin to slowly move her shirt off her shoulders as her fingers began to unbutton my shirt. “Nore,” I pulled away looking at her. 

“Mutual use,” She whispered. 

“George,” Someone called with a loud knock on the door. I shifted, feeling Eleanore’s head bury itself into my chest. “It’s me,” I unwrapped my hands from Eleanore’s body, pushing a kiss to her lips as I got up. Pulling on my pants and shirt I walked to the door, pulling it open. 

“Katherine? what are you doing here?” 

“I was hoping we could talk, in private.” She tried to peak around the door. I pulled it behind me. 

“Let me grab my shoes. Won't be a tick.” I ducked back inside grabbing my shoes and pulling them on. I lent down and kissed Eleanore on the head before rushing back to Katherine. “What did you want to talk about?” 

“Us,” 

Michael and Eleanore stood out the front of the doors as the crowd gathered. Eleanore clapped her hands as the bride and groom passed by them, others throwing rose petals. 

“Well,” Michael started loudly, “For a wedding we only attended to make George’s ex jealous, I am happy for them.” 

“Super,” Eleanore muttered. 

“Reception time,” Michael fluttered his fingers, his hand wrapping around her wrist. 

“Y/N, wait.” I called from behind them, I watched as Eleanore tried to move away quicker pulling Michael with her.

“We don’t want to talk to him?” Michael looked back at me with an eyebrow raised. 

“We don’t?” 

“Eleanore. Will you talk to me. What's wrong?” She let go of Michael and pulled me to the side.

“I got my hopes up.” She whispered. 

“About what?” 

“About you actually loving me back.” She whispered, trying to pull away from me. “Forget it.” She sniffled. “It's pathetic really, how much I still hope it's you and me in the end because I know you love her, How much you want her.” 

“Eleanore,” 

“But I'm still the stupid girl whose been in love with you since third year.” 

“But you said,” I took a step backwards, she loves me. 

“I know what I fucking said. I lied G. It's you, it's always been you.” She screamed. 

“Then why would you agree to this?” I screamed back. “Why would you agree to come to this wedding, to make Katherine jealous?” 

“Because I'm an idiot. I thought that if we spent time together, and pretended to be together you would somehow see it's me. Not her,” She moaned hands covering her eyes. “I’m an idiot.” 

“Nore, you’re my best-friend.”

“Friends don't look at each other the way we do George,” Her eyes moved behind me, filling with flames. Someone was walking towards us, and I could only guess it was Katherine.

“Nore…” 

“George, come on the party is starting.” Katherine reached out and wraps her arm around my bicep. 

“Good enough to fuck, but nothing more.” I heard her whisper. “And you…” Her eyes turned to Katherine. “Fuck you, You made me feel like I was never good enough, for Thomas, for George.” Her face fell. “Guess what. I was good enough. I am good enough.” Behind her Michael clapped loudly, Thomas even joined in. 

“Eleanore, let me talk.”

“I almost wish we'd never met George.” She rushed away from me, her cheeks pooling with tears. 

“C’mon George, the party…” 

“Did you know about this?” I asked Michael. "Why didn't you say something? We're just friends.” I screamed. “Why would you suggest this,” My chest heaved with the effort. 

[myspaciousplace]

Home

Hi there, my name is Nicki and I have the privilege of raising four beautiful children with my amazing husband, Asif. We are a family on a journey, in the process of getting from where we are to where we want to be. Our story is rich, filled with both high triumphs and deep dark pits. I have known that we will write about this adventure “someday,” when we have arrived at the place of our dreams, when we have achieved our goals, when we are finally “there.” 

BUT, as time goes on, I am realizing that the powerful part of our story is the struggle, the loss, the hopelessness that we have experienced and still are trudging through at times. I once heard that when we tell our own story, no matter how raw or painful it may be, we then get to decide the ending, because we have taken ownership of it. Not telling our story makes us the victim of someone else’s narrative and keeps us stuck. With that in mind, I am choosing to write now, knowing that as a result, I will get to choose the ending. So here goes. . . 

First, I want to welcome you into our beautiful home, which I am so grateful for. I really want you to feel like a guest in my home, so please imagine you’re here as I describe it: 

My Dream Home

We live on 8 acres of land in a beautiful modern farmhouse with an open floor plan, 5 bedrooms, and 3 bathrooms. The sunlight streams in through our huge windows and we are far enough away from our neighbors that I don’t even have to close the curtains at night. My mostly white kitchen is spacious, with plenty of counter and cupboard space (gorgeous marble counters, to be specific), two ovens that I frequently bake in, and a large fridge filled with healthy food. Together as a family, we care for a flourishing garden, adorable miniature goats, chickens, barn cats and 4 dogs. I love every season in our home. The summers are spent mostly outdoors - in the pool swimming, on the deck grilling and eating, and in the backyard exploring. The fall is full of yard work and playing in leaf piles, followed with campfires in the evenings. The winter is cozy as we cuddle up in our living room by the fireplace and enjoy looking at the beautiful white world outside. And spring is spent planting our garden and cleaning up the yard in anticipation of the summer. We thoroughly enjoy taking care of our home and it is a bright, peaceful and joyful place. 

What I just described here is very, very real in my mind. In my imagination, I experience every nook and cranny of this home: I feel the warm grass under my feet when I’m outside in the summer; I smell the baking of Christmas cookies in my convection oven in December; I hear the joyful sounds of my kids running around, playing freely; I taste the large meal I’ve prepared for our family and the extended family that has come for dinner; and I see the bright, open living space, filled with the furniture and colors that I love: a bit of mid-century modern, mixed with a dash of farmhouse style, sprinkled with turquoise, green and yellow accents. This is My Spacious Place. This is my home.

Where We Really Live

However, if I were to tell you about where I actually live right now, it is indeed quite far from this vision, this dream. . . no, this PROMISE of a home I just described. 

Right now, our family of 6 with our 2 large, high-energy dogs, lives in a tiny, second-story, 1 bedroom apartment with no yard. And in fact, the 1 bedroom doesn’t even have a door on it. Nope, we’ve hung a curtain in the doorway of the room where our 4 children sleep every night. We have no real beds in this apartment, the kids roll out sleeping bag-type pads every night (except for the 2-year-old who is still in a crib) and Asif and I pull out part of our handy Ikea couch to transform it into a “bed.” This room is our “living room” by day and “bedroom” by night. 

Our tiny kitchen has less than 3 feet of real counter space (about 1.5 feet on either side of the sink) that we supplement with more Ikea furniture: 2 mismatched wooden islands against the wall. We eat meals at our small, 15-year-old kitchen table (also from Ikea!) and share one bathroom and a shower. We don’t even have a bath tub for our young kids. 

We have a room that used to be some sort of “porch” or maybe a 3-season room at the front of the apartment. It has no heat, but we need every bit of space we can get so we use an electric heater to heat this room in the winter and we endure the heat in the summer. We call it the playroom - it’s where the toys are and it’s also where I homeschool our 3 school-aged children. Thankfully, we have a large attic space where we can store stuff and I actually keep a majority of toys up there, rotating them occasionally to keep it interesting for everyone.

The kids clothes are kept in yet another piece of Ikea furniture, a cube-shaped bookshelf unit. Their clothes are in the boxes that fit into the cubes and that shelf is in the “living room.” Asif’s and my clothes are in a “closet,” that is actually just a section of the bathroom that we installed a couple of bars in for hanging clothes from. 

Walking On Eggshells

Additionally, we live above 2 businesses - one is our own business, Asif’s photography studio, and the other is an architect’s office who has been there for over a decade. He had a very bad relationship with the previous apartment tenant who was a woman with her older daughter and several small “yippie” dogs. She was too loud for him. She, the single woman with a daughter who was in school 5 days a week, who was probably often working herself, was too loud. 

And now we live here - we, who have 4 kids under the age of 10 who are pretty much home ALL day. We, who have a 2-year-old who jumps instead of walks to get around. We, a family who is naturally loud when we’re happy and mad, of which both emotions are expressed dozens of times daily between the 6 of us. We, who don’t have several yippie dogs but rather 2 big dogs who love to wrestle in the living room, right above the architect’s office and bark at passing dogs. And to someone working downstairs, apparently even a normal footstep quakes in such a way that whomever is listening can’t help but tense up and anything beyond that makes one think the ceiling is going to collapse. 

This man has clients come to his place of business and here we are, where our every-day life is causing him to appear unprofessional. He has banged on the ceiling and yelled multiple times to get our attention, Asif and he have had several tense discussions, and ultimately we know that we need to do whatever it takes to keep everyone quiet. But that’s not easy. So we block off half of our already small apartment every weekday during the architect’s work hours to keep anyone from even walking over the main part of his office. It’s helped keep the peace so far, but we are certainly “walking on eggshells” every. single. weekday. 

What a contrast from the dream home I described at first. Quite the opposite pictures. But do you know what’s crazy?? In the midst of this one-bedroom apartment living situation, I actually find the same peace, joy and brightness that I envision in the promised home that is to come. And believe it or not, I have come to see this as my spacious place. 

And what exactly that means, is another post. 

IMAGE CREDITS:

Philipp Reiner - Unsplash

Josh Hemsley - Unsplash

Kaleb Tapp - Unsplash

Kaluci - Unsplash

Rex Pickar - Unsplash

Kristina Flour - Unsplash

[shell-senji]

Otome games & reader-response criticism, part 1

Oddly enough, this is something I’ve been thinking about for a while now, but a brief discussion of Schrödinger's cat, of all things, with @impracticaldemon prompted me to revisit it. So, buckle up, bitches. We’re talking literary theory.

Disclaimer—I am *not* a literary theorist—my areas of expertise are rhetoric and composition, plus all the grammar/mechanics/style/punctuation that comes with being an editor. But I was an English major, so I feel I can at least speak *in general* about the topic.

*Edit: originally this was going to be just one post, but it began to get a bit out of control, so I will split it into another part to be completed at a later date. 

[more below the cut because for those of you who don’t give a rat’s ass about this, it’s liable to seem lengthy and dry ����]

Reader-response criticism is very much as it sounds—it is “an approach to literature that focuses on the reader rather than the work itself, by attempting to describe what goes on in the reader’s mind during the reading of a text. Hence, the consciousness of the reader—produced by reading the work—is the actual subject of reader-response criticism. [...] Thus, there is no single definitive reading of a work, because readers create rather than discover absolute meanings in texts. However, this approach is not a rationale for mistaken or bizarre readings, but an exploration of the possibilities for a plurality of readings. This kind of strategy calls attention to how we read and what influences our readings, and what that reveals about ourselves” (Meyer 2011, 2140-41).

Phew. Still with me? 

Sorry for the huge quote definition, but I’d only muck things up if I tried to provide my own paraphrased one.

One of the things I recall from one of my myriad literature courses was a professor explaining that per reader-response theory, someone can pick up a book when they’re ten years old and then again when they’re thirty and have a completely different reading experience, because they are a different reader than they were the first time they read it. Hence the whole “plurality of readings” thing. The text is not a “fixed” item—it is constantly changing depending on who is reading it or, to use the example of the same reader revisiting a work years later, when. Obviously the text does create certain constraints, somewhat like a sandbox we as readers must play in, but while one reader is building a sandcastle, another is burying their friend and making him into a mermaid. 

What does this have to do with otome games? Well, think about it—each fan of whatever game (we’ll use Hakuouki for the moment) tends to have a personal favorite character. Or one or two they lean more in favor of. Why? Sure we can argue physical appearance, voice actor, supporting characters in their routes, plot quality, etc. But what about people who disagree? Are they wrong? Are we right? Is my experience more “canon” or “valid” than someone else’s? 

No. And reader-response supports this. [Caveat—don’t ignore the part in the definition that says it does NOT justify a wacky cracked-out bizarre interpretation.] As readers, we come “to the work with certain expectations and assumptions, which are either met or not met”  (Meyer 2011, 2060). So as individual fans, we all have very very different personal lives and personal life experiences, which impact the way the game and its characters feel to us. Also, our personal social and cultural contexts affect our reading—it is highly probable an American fan of Hakuouki playing the English version has a different experience than a Japanese one playing the Japanese version, as much for the reason of translation as the reason of one’s environment.

(The rhetorician in me is screaming about the importance of context in all things. Quiet, you. Wait your turn.)

One of the reasons this has been bouncing around in my head for a while is that it has interesting applications to us as a fans, and by extension, the fandom. IF (and I’m not saying the theory is infallible...none are) we buy into reader-response criticism, then what we should be focusing on is less about “right” or “wrong” readings or opinions, and more about sharing and discussing our experiences with the game, and exploring the possibilities. “The text remains the same; the readers do not” (Meyer 2011, 2061). Ten years from now, we could all replay Hakuouki and have vastly differing impressions and opinions than we hold now. 

An example—and I’ll throw myself under the bus, yippy skippy—using Hakuouki. I find Toudou Heisuke to be a charming character. He’s cute as a button, cheerful, struggling to find his way and make his own path, yet full of hope for the future. I enjoy his character immensely. 

Yet he is pretty far down on the list for my “favorite” matches for Chizuru. Why? Well, at the end of the day, try as we might, Chizuru is at least a teeny bit of a MarySue. We’re supposed to slip into her shoes somewhat (if not entirely, depending on if you change the character’s name). Given that, I just don’t find him a “romantic” match—BFF? Sure. Romantic partner? Not really. He’s just...so...young compared to his compatriots.

Now, now, before you come at me with pitchforks, yes, I know he’s the same or close in age to Saito and Souji. BUT when I say “young,” it’s more than just the number of years we’ve survived on the planet. He feels less mature, more idealistic, less worldly. Saito, for all that at times his stoicism makes me want to scream, is more mature, more realistic, and more appealing (though he’s not at the tip-top of my list either LOL). 

Now, does this mean that anyone who prefers Heisuke and/or hates Saito is wrong? Nope. Not a bit. And I’m not saying that in a “I’m being open-minded” way—if we are using reader-response criticism as a jumping off point, my perspective is merely one of the many that make up the fandom’s plurality of readings. I come to the table with certain biases and personal experiences that affect my preferences in an otome game that another reader will not have, be my age, race, gender, sexual preference, job as an editor, the fact that I have a personal penchant for profanity so our foul-mouthed oni no fukucho is quite appealing, whatever.  

Right, well, this is enough food for thought right now. It’s late, I’m losing coherence, and I may or may not continue this in a part two at a later date. 

Source: Meyer, Michael, ed. 2011. The Bedford Introduction to Literature. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s.

[meekotheshibainu-blog]

A Shiba Inu and a First-Time Dog Owner

I once fell in love with the foxy-look of a Shiba Inu. My desire grew when I watched a YouTube video of the truly intelligent Shiba named Yuki. Growing up, my parents never would allow a dog in the house. So, when I moved out on my own, I felt the urge to adopt my long desired companion. I wanted to do my research before I made a final, potentially life changing decision. I got the book titled “Shiba Inu-Comprehensive Owner's Guide” written by Andrew De Prisco. I searched the internet and everything I read basically said “Good Luck” .... “First time dog owners should not choose this breed” “They are practically untrainable” “Aggressive to everyone but their owner”. As you can imagine, I really began to worry. However, I started to put together the character-traits: stubborn, cleanliness, cunning, independent....they sound like a CAT! I am actually more of a cat person than a dog so this really intrigued me. I decided to take a chance ended up driving 5 hours to the Pennsylvania Dutch Country to pick up my full-bred, male Shiba Inu, and you know what? It was so worth it, I instantly fell in love.  

I named my 4-month-old puppy Meeko which means little mischief in Native American, fitting I suppose. Here are pros and cons that I have experienced with him:

Cons 

Stubborn When called, Meeko sometimes comes and sometimes will not, it’s really whatever he feels like. A treat almost always makes him come, though.

Master of escape I have just become a bit more confident with his being off-leash at the age of 2. But both incidences were in situations where no one else was around. The few times he got loose from me he bolted and thought it was a big game when I was chasing him down. Again the word treat helped. 

Impatient When teaching him tricks, he lost interest very quickly. If I have a ball in my hand and am getting ready to throw he will try to steal it out of my hand or jump on me.

Cunning He is very intelligent in a manipulative but playful way. He clearly understands the word no but will often time refuse to listen the first time around. It takes some repetition to get him to listen. He will toss a toy or ball on my body repeatedly because he knows I will get so annoyed, I will throw it. While being potty trained, he would urinate on my carpet next to, not on, the puppy pee pad I had out.

Potty Training It took a while for him to learn but in his defense, we were initially living in an apartment and it was more difficult getting him out frequently. It was a frustrating process but he eventually understood.

Puller In his first year and a half he pulled the leash all the time having a hard time sticking by my side and sometimes yanking so hard at it that I thought my arm would pop out of the socket. With treats, praise and a harness, this has been fixed.

Jumper This is one thing I have worked hard on stopping but unable to see a light at the end of a tunnel. I think this is really common in dogs especially friendly ones. He means well but not everyone loves having a dirty-pawed dog attacking them. 

Power Chewer I lucked out in the sense that he does not chew on furniture, shoes, ect... he chews mainly on the toys I provide for him. So there is a pro but the con is that he chews through toys at, sometimes, astonishing rates causing me to have to constantly clean up debris from the toy and buying new toys.

Pros

Loyal This is number one. He is truly a momma’s boy. He stays by my side and seems to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy his. He is such a great companion, helping me get through stressful days. 

Active He is quite active but he seems to have a good sense of balance meaning he is not always hyper or desiring rigorous, constant activity. He has actually helped me get into better shape by going for walks every day. He even helped me discover a new love of hiking. It has been really fun exploring with him in the outdoors which I am not sure I would have done without him. 

Social Playful and kind with other people or dogs. He knows how to play gently enough not to hurt anyone. He rarely bites and when he has it was during play and he immediately releases when he realizes the accident. He only ever snarled once at a Chihuahua with its yippiness, but I can understand that. He is great with kids, as well. 

Cuddler He is a great snuggler. He sleeps the whole night through cuddled up to me.

Quiet He barely barks. Dogs bark at him and he doesn’t bark back. When he does bark, it is done quieter than most dogs  

Entertaining  With how smart Meeko is, he knows how to get silly. For example, If I say no to him biting something I do not want him to touch he will snap at it or get close waiting for my response by looking at me through the corner of his eyes. When I ask him where is ball is I watch him look around vigorously until he finds it and returns. He will make silly faces or contort his body clearly to get a reaction out of me.

Tricks He quickly learned all the tricks I trained him to do; High five, shake, sit, lie down, crawl, come, leave it. Treats are, again, highly motivated. 

Grazer When it comes to food, he does not scoff it all down like many dogs do. Therefore, I am able to leave out a big bowl of food that he picks at as he pleases.

Independent Meeko easily entertains himself, he is a pretty low maintenance when it comes to play. Sometimes I have a lot to do and can’t be spending hours entertaining him but I don’t need to feel guilty since he appears content playing by himself. 

Size A Shiba Inu is a medium sized dog meaning he is not too small not too big, he’s just right! He was fine in a small apartment but even better in my 3 story condo. Either way, he was happy.

What I Have Learned Overall

It is important to socialize your puppy at an early age to prevent unfriendliness and aggression towards others. 

It is key to establish who the alpha is which can be hard to do with a Shiba but it is possible. 

Early intervention with training is also key, repetition is very helpful.

Dogs in general thrive to please their owners. To see their owner disappointed teaches the dog to discontinue such behavior and good behaviors are more likely to occur if praise and a visual of your happiness is received.  

Be patient, it is worth it in the end!

I hope that if you were as unsure about adopting the breed as I was while researching about the negatives of owning a Shiba Inu, you now feel more confident about your decision. I, for one, am glad I did not listen to the reviews because I now have a fantastic companion. Feel free to comment below for any question or your own personal experiences with a Shiba Inu, I would love to hear about it! 

Miss HarleyKait4

To come: Shiba Inu Facts  &  How I Trained a Shiba

[cosmicsnowcryptid]

Is max like a service or therapy dog? Or is he just your dog that is trained (if this in anyways offends you I am so sorry)

Why on earth would that offend me, dear? There’s nothing wrong with needing a service or therapy animal, and you know you can ask me anything.

Also, I’m in a babbly mood, so get ready for a novel about my favorite being on this earth.

Max isn’t a service or therapy animal. He’s also not particularly trained, honestly. The old geezer has a mind of his own. If you want him to do something, he will eventually comply, but he will grumble at you. (At first, I thought he was groaning in pain because of his arthritis. But nope, that’s a different noise. He grumbles because he’s a grump who doesn’t like being bossed around.)

He’s a senior dog, overweight, has diabetes. He’s afraid of EVERYTHING- cats, wind, bones that are too big, everything. He has allergies, so he sneezes all the time and I have to fight him to wipe his nose like he’s a toddler.

And he is the absolute love of my life. 

Seriously, you have never met a sweeter dog. He may be full of grump, but he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He will follow you, love you, bring you things when you’re sad, do his best to cheer you up, snuggle when you want it, keep distance (but still watch) when you don’t, I don’t get to see him all the time since I’m away at college, but I’ve been told that he only sleeps in his bed when I’m there. When I’m gone, he sleeps downstairs near the door, waiting for me to come home. 

Also, it seems he knows I’m talking about him. “Why talk about when you can do the love and the pats instead?”

We got him from a shelter for 30 dollars on the day that he was going to be… “transferred”, if you catch my drift, years ago. He wasn’t exactly young back then- in fact, his age was fudged a bit on the papers to make him seem younger. He was stuck in a cage, the very last one, with this small yippy dog who was obviously making him anxious, and he was so. sad. He was the only dog in the entire place who wouldn’t even make eye contact. I fell in love. My mother did too, even though she kept saying “No NO. We are not getting a dog, NO.” (We were only there because one of our cats was lost and I wanted to see if they found him, but something in me said that I needed to look at the dogs.)

“Would you like to take him out?” The lady asked. 

“NO” My mom said. “ABSOLUTELY NOT. NO.” But as she was saying it, she was already grabbing the leash that the woman was handing to her.

We just knew the second we laid eyes on him that God (or fate, or the universe, or whatever you personally believe in) had put him there just for us.

I had always wanted a sweet dog that I could spoil and who would love me unconditionally. My dad always had a not-so-secret mental picture of having a yellow lab curled up by the fireplace. My mom always wanted a dog named Max, after the one in the Grinch. He was everything.

Also, it was the week before my birthday. What a good excuse, right? 

The second we took him out of that little cage, he burst into a little happy series of jumps, and right into our hearts. He became the sunshine of our lives immediately. 

He had been abused severely, and was nothing but bones. We changed that really fast, let me tell you. The vet said that the diabetes was genetic and would have happened no matter what, and I’m thankful to hear that, because I would have been afraid that we had done it with all of the cans of Alpo.

He was really afraid of touch. Once he accidentally stepped on my foot, and when I stepped back in surprise, my hand flew up to steady myself. Immediately, he flinched, dropped to the floor, and whimpered. It broke my heart. I spent a year teaching him that I was gentle and would never hurt him, and the day he finally let me rub his belly, I cried.

Now he’ll poke me with his cold nose until I give him belly scratches. If we’re both doing well physically, we’ll play-fight. It’s one of his favorite things.

I could, and occasionally do, ramble about him for hours, but I’ll spare you for now. The important part is, he is the best pupper I’ve ever known, and he has changed and saved my life. 

I don’t know how much longer I have with him, but I intend on savoring every moment.

ADDENDUM: this story wouldn’t be complete without another happy ending- and that’s about the shelter.

The shelter in question is the Humane Society of Utah. They were always well-meaning and took care of their animals, but they were severely lacking in resources. They did the best with what they had, but despite that, it was a place of sadness, to be frank. 

Soon after we got Max, however, they received a multi-million dollar donation and grant. The entire place was renovated, and it is now one of the nicest shelters in the entire country. It’s truly a powerhouse and an example for shelters everywhere. They now have some really influential backers that allow them to keep up their high standards, and they relentlessly lobby to remove gas chambers from shelters in the state. I volunteer for them as often as I can. It’s very far from where I’m going to school, but I manage to make it there despite my lack of a car, and since I’m moving home for the summer, I’ll soon be able to go a few times a week to help their dogs get exercise. I owe them everything for giving me the sunshine of my life, and I am so thrilled to see them become such a beautiful place. 

They are on iPet Companion, which is a website that allows you to watch cats from a camera and use remote-controlled toys to play with them. 

Here’s where you can learn more about them and donate.

Here’s their Facebook page, which I HIGHLY recommend you follow no matter where you live. That may sound weird, but they do photoshoots with all of the pets up for adoption, and they are absolutely heartwarming. It’s like a little taste of r/mademesmile every time you open Facebook.

If you made it to the bottom, thank you for reading this far. Dogs are good, and so are you. I hope you have a lovely day.

[wolfrahne]

Rahne & Illyana (Issues 62-70)

Part four.

It’s time for Doug’s funeral with issue 62. Rahne is not taking it well- neither is Warlock, for that matter. Illyana’s not taking the death of her brother well either. Everyone is in a state of depression. Rahne’s taken to staying in her wolf form, and curling up with Illyana. But a small ray of light comes in the form of a letter from Amara, who’s returned to Nova Roma, her home, with Empath.

This is really all we see of the New Mutants in this issue, as it’s focus is on Amara. Definitely worth a read, though.

Issue 63 is focused heavily on Illyana (and I’m not complaining), with a good bit of bonding with Lockheed! (YAY. LOCKHEED. I LOVE HIM SO. Like, a lot. I’ve needed him in the movies foR SO LONG HURRY UP MOVIES COME ON GIMME MY DRAGON BABY.)

With that out of the way, 64 is where they really go to Doug’s funeral. Nobody’s doing too well, as expected. Before going in to see his body, Erik explains the cause of death that he’d told Doug’s parents. But Rahne knows how he really feels. Illyana’s the one to comfort her, this time around. Standing beside her, even as they go to view his body.

(Dani’s on her other side, which is nice, having the three of them together again, despite the circumstances.) Warlock is confused as to why Doug looks the way he does, Bobby briefly explaining that it’s from what the mortician did to make him look presentable. Rahne can’t take it and runs out. The others go out after her (and the other people there comment on this, jerkfaces that they are, though they don’t know any of the students are mutants). Rahne completely breaks down, revealing that Doug is going to be buried, never to be seen again- which gets Warlock going and freaking out. (Totally understandable- he needs so many hugs.)

Later that night, Warlock sneaks out and goes to get Doug’s body, temporarily reanimating him and is confused when people react with horror and sorrow, instead of joy. (Cut him some slack, he’s from another planet and doesn’t get Earth customs.) Rahne is utterly horrified, but after Warlock tries to explain himself, Bobby points out that he was only trying to help. And she tells him that nothing he can do can help. And they share a touching moment (grab your tissues, people).

They take the time they need, while the others get dressed and Illyana ‘ports them to the room with Doug’s coffin. Doug’s father is absolutely certain that he’s not in it (which isn’t wrong), but Dani uses her power to project the mirage of his body. (Phew.) They’re able to get him back, get home, and go to the funeral the next day, where Rahne and Warlock take their time to say their goodbyes.

When returning home, Illyana replays the tape of the X-Men’s death and sets her sights on taking Forge out, setting up for issue 65.

Illyana calls Erik out on his capabilities of taking care of the New Mutants, Charles made a mistake, and hopes that Kitty will understand where she’s coming from. Sadly, that isn’t the case and Illyana leaves in a rage. She goes back to the attic to retrieve her costume, where the others have already changed and jump into the disc into Limbo. A game plan is.. Sorta laid out. Mostly, the others are reluctant. Except for Roberto, who’s sick of Erik’s shit.

Rahne doesn’t exactly take that side, but is for going with Illyana, for her friend’s sake.

(I AM LOVING THEIR RELATIONSHIP. GAH.)

Illyana nabs her soulsword after finding Forge with her scrying mirror (with Rahne and Dani trying to talk her out of outright killing Forge), leaving Limbo open for takeover. They’re teleported there, and.. Hello Freedom Force. Ugh.

Blob knocks Illyana out, Sam catches her, and sets her down to go fight with the others. Rahne goes over to her to make sure she’s alright (bless her big heart).

Oh. And Pyro does what he does best- be a jerk. Warlock busts Dani out of the fire wall, going after Avalanche, only to be stopped by.. Wait for it... Stonewall. Poor Warlock. But he does provide enough of a distraction for Sam to go after Pyro, and Bobby to bust out too. Rahne is not leaving Illyana’s side.

Bobby sets his sights on Spiral (which takes out Stonewall and Avalanche, bless), Dani goes after Commando. And we get a brief few panels with Forge talking to Destiny. You must be wondering, where’s Blob? Well...

Rahne’s having none of his shit. Illyana’s able to make a stepping disc in time, before he can do anything to Rahne. Sabre, however, has to be an ass and get him out of the way.

Look at that teamwork. ... I mean Illyana and Rahne.

Two badass ladies working together. Fuck yes.

The others have their fights, teamwork for them works out, Illyana sets her sights on Forge. Who Rahne is near now. (Mostly wanting to get Forge dealt with, but some serious big sister feels too. Fite me.)

Sam’s able to stop her before she can do any real damage to him.

Except... That wasn’t Forge. It was Mystique. Whose distraction paid off for Freedom Force. (As much as they annoy me, it is kinda nice to see Raven and Destiny. Especially together.) Things seem pretty bleak. Dani projects Destiny’s worst fears. And here we have a moment of serious business. (I’ve also included Raven with Destiny. You’re welcome.)

With all that being said, Rahne wants to make sure Illyana is okay, precious girl that she is.

And then Forge had to go and show up. There’s a little more with Freedom Force before this issue ends. Up next, 66: Illyana v. Forge.

Forge plays a bit of cat and mouse with Illyana (with him being mouse), and Rahne knows she needs to stop her before she actually does kill him, reasoning that the soulsword will only hurt anything magical, and seeing as she’s a mutant, she’ll be fine. Except.. It’s cut through rock, and the piece of rock Warlock picks up has a face. Yeah.

No one is really pleased, nor surprised by this, though. Save for Sam, who was rendered unconscious towards the end of the last issue and gets filled in.

Forge tries to reason with Illyana, saying that what Colossus and the X-Men did was voluntary. It goes about as well as anyone can expect with Illyana as Darkchilde. (SOL, Forge.) Rahne knows the dangers of trying to stop her, but needs to move anyway. The only one keeping her back is Dani, who projects a mirage of Forge while Sam takes her off her feet. Which, again, goes about as well as anyone can expect. Time to go back to Limbo, kids.

Illyana commands vines to keep the team from getting in danger. Which isn’t actually the case, but she’s so focused on revenge.

Sam, have a little faith, will ya?

Ah, who’m I kidding. She really is too caught up in fighting with Forge. Until Dani’s able to project an image of Illyana being full on Darkchilde, which gets her attention.

Rahne pleads for her to come back to her senses, getting swallowed by the vines by the time she can finish. The rude-ass demons call Rahne a fly and try to encourage Illyana to finish Forge off- to fully become a demon in her own right.

It seems like Illyana’s going to do just that... But nope. Fuck that shit. She throws her soulsword at the vines, releasing her friends. She restores Forge to full health and power (feels like a Zelda game to me), sending him back to Dallas and taking herself and the New Mutants back to the attic of the school.

Illyana’s beating herself up about almost killing him, and them. Rahne, who seriously needs a medal or something, reassures her that she didn’t. She could’ve. But she didn’t. She went down the path that saved them, instead of offing them.

And it pays off.

They all head off to their rooms, passing by Magneto in his costume, and we’ve got a new arc ahead of us with the next few panels of this issue. Spyder going after Lila, using Gosamyr. Because Sam. Yippie.

67, Sam goes to Lila’s concert because he’s a standup guy and a sweet boyfriend, Spyder grabs Lila, Gosamyr shows up and “falls” for Bobby, and the girls (Rahne, Illyana, and Dani) are extremely skeptical of this (bless their hearts).

Just look at their faces. Look at that shared skepticism. I love them so.

Issue 68, they’re helping Gosamyr, Illyana’s trying to repair her scrying glass (which doesn’t end well, with shards nearly cutting everyone). And overall, Illyana’s afraid. Dani, Rahne and Warlock try to comfort her.

Gosamyr pulls focus back to herself, only mentioning Lila as an additional thought, and Dani’s had enough of her shit (so have I, Dani. So have I). Illyana suggests she should go after Lila by herself. Warlock and Rahne, and Sam, are having none of that. While Bobby offers to be Gosamyr’s boyfriend. Smoooooooth, Roberto.

They ‘port into the ship Gosamyr “stole” and have a little fun with it, while Illyana goes off to be on her own. (Girl needs serious hugs.) Dani’s not in the mood to play dress up, and Gosamyr puts a long, black wig on Rahne, having her look similar to Lila. Fuck. You. Gosamyr. (Warlock stays by Illyana’s side, though. Precious alien baby.) Who shows up with a version of Sam’s costume and totally steals the show. Like. No, seriously, Sam and Roberto have all eyes on her. I want to punch her out.

Later, Bobby is having some one on one time with Gosie, and Rahne gets curious, wondering where they are and how close to Spyder’s ship they are. Only to walk in on the two kissing. Which makes Rahne uber uncomfortable and has her running off. Cut back to everyone being in the same room, with Sam as focused on Gosamyr as Bobby. Guh. Seeing Sam like this, when she knows he loves Lila (and she knows she’s got a crush on him herself), breaks her heart. Out she runs. Dani goes to check on her, best friend and soul-mate that she is.

Gosamyr goes after Dani, uses some kind of power, and shit goes awry from there. A princely mirage of Sam shows up, trying to woo Rahne. But she knows he’s got his heart set for Lila and runs back to the others to get help. Just in time for Dani to provide ‘paperwork’ to get them to Spyder’s ship. Rahne loses her shit. She thinks Dani did it on purpose and goes to tear her throat out. Bobby’s able to hold her back. Dani is rightfully pissed off with Gosamyr. Basically, everyone is under her play, save for Warlock and Illyana. No, seriously. Fuck. Her.

Issue 69. Oh boy. I’ve got to say, just read it. If for nothing else, do it for this moment of feels.

Teleporting to Limbo, demons demons demons, soulsword..

Still don’t like Gosamyr, though.

More fighting, Erik being White King of Hellfire Club, more fighting, Illyana frees Gosamyr from the clutches of.. Something. Doesn’t make me like her any more.

Illyana can’t turn back, which causes more heartbreak. Yay. I’m sorry, going through this pains me. But it’s to get to the other important parts of this relationship, so.. I’m toughing it out. They get to Spyder’s lair with Warlock’s help, then get caught in a trap. Issue 70. It’s almost done. Phew.

There doesn’t seem to be any way out of the cage Spyder has them in, he’s got Gosamyr tied up to a pole, and there’s a cut to more Hellfire Club stuff. Gosamyr gets herself freed and risks her life to get the team out of the cage. With teamwork! Shocking.. They get to Spyder, fight, free Lila, get out, Lila teleports herself and the thing trying to kill everyone (I stopped paying attention, whoops) to a distant sun. And Illyana gets the others to Limbo before they can all get killed.

... Oh. And S’ym’s taken over.

Part five will have the rest of this. The worst part’s over, the worst part’s over.. Oy.