#yeah i had to go with my mother to take the dog to the groomer go to the pharmacy and then grocery shop

[bohemian-nights]

Swear Daemyra shippers are the only ones whom can look at a man teach his niece who at the time was a minor by real standards and fantasy standards sex acts, and say he loved her. I was reading a fic where Daemyra popped up in the background and they had Daemon say “I’ve loved Rhaenyra since the time she was a girl” and it’s like no shit. Then again in the show it’s just so…. Like I can acknowledge that Matt and Mily had chemistry (which would’ve been great for a book!Daemyra where he is very cleary a groomer) but even then all their scenes had an underlying pervy feel to them. Also Daemon is always ABANDONING Rhaenyra when it counts. Instead of staying with her after the death of her brother and mother he goes out drinking and makes the “heir for a day” comment. Then ( knowing Dragonstone is the seat reserved for the heir) he takes possession of Dragonstone (which also could’ve lowered her standing as heir) and the dragon egg that Rhaenyra placed in the cradle of Baelon. Then he leaves her alone for three years fighting in what was technically an illegal war before coming back and trying to ruin her reputation in order to attain the throne. He does this by taking her a crown Princess into a whore house, ensures that she will be recognized, engages in light sexual content with her before leaving her ALONE in a whore house half naked. And the worse part? Not a single fuck was given. Then later on at her wedding she practically begs him to take her to Dragonstone and marry her. In response to this he marries another woman (who he also treat like shit R.I.P to book!Daemon and Laena). Fast forward ten years where they (on the day of his wife’s funeral) have sex on the beach (sex that didn’t even look pleasurable) and she wakes up ALONE. Mind you prior to the sex she’s essentially begging him to fuck her as well. Following him around like a lost dog. Then we once again have the begging for marriage only this time he accepts. Fast forward down the line he’s not showing any support really in Kings Landing (why didn’t he go with Rhaenyra to talk to Rhaenys) but yeah he killed a man for her so the fandom ate that shit up. Back on Dragonstone she experiences a still brith where she calls out and begs for him so she won’t be alone and he just doesn’t come(I’ve seen some people excuse this staying maybe he had trauma from Laena so I’m 60/40 on it) and then upon learning that she doesn’t want to immediately jump to WAR he chokes the shit out of her.

Their fans are special.

Even if you want to take out the obvious grooming or only want to focus on book canon, Daemon still ends up abandoning her after she ordered him to return back to her, saving another woman(Nettles) after she ordered her to be beheaded in her sleep, and then either offs himself or lives out his days with Nettles.

How they turned that into Daemon died to defeat her greatest enemy(which the text specifically states is Daeron and not Aemond) will never not be absolutely hilariously.

If you only want to consider the show as canon(why?), he’s physically abused her (and is allegedly going to do so again) and abandoned her on countless occasions (after seeing her beg for him to love her 23 million times) with no concern for her physical or mental well-being.

(The trauma excuse is a poor one when he chokes her out 5 seconds later. That is not how you respond to trauma or your brother dying).

Book canon, show canon, grooming, no grooming, it doesn’t matter. It’s a hot mess any way you slice it(which is why they start crying when you bring out the actual text).

I get morally ambiguous ships(all but one of my favorite ships fall into this category). Still, I don’t get shipping something where the guy outright does not care about whether the woman lives or dies and then claiming that those who aren’t deluded are the crazy ones. This shit is straight up pathetic.

I’m all about ship what you want, but these are the same people calling characters the n-word and actively wanting a Black character to be cut cause she “gets in the way” of their ship so they use the excuse that there are already enough Black people on the show. So if this comes off harsh it’s because this ship attracts racist assholes who need psychiatric help on top of them being so fucking delusional they can’t see the forest from the trees.

[houseof-lamentation]

Just relized Solomon doesn't have horns yet- gotta get to that

But fr it'd just be

Emilia: YOU'VE MADE YOUR LAST MISTAKE, YOU OVER GROWN, SCORNED DODO

Solomon: Ha hah, uh my god babe you're so right, please marry me

Emilia: Darling we've been marrid for years

Lucifer, still pinned under her foot: Can you do this later?

Emilia and Solomon: No❤

But anyway hows the torso goin? That... sounds odd out of context lmao

how dare you forget one of the sexiest parts of a demon. how dare you.

sc......scorned dodo...... haha. get it. because he's. because he's about to be EXTINCT. HEYYOOOO (high fives myself)

love is real it's in the emisol. solemi? sololia. emimon. help me out here

the torso. is. not going. was busy yesterday and i have schoolwork to do today so i haven't touched it since wednesday. i'll get to it eventually

[excelsi-or]

just a little sweeter (pt. 14)

No recs from me this time. I can’t consume content that fast LOL. I’m trying for one post a day. After this one there might be five (???) parts left? I haven’t decided if I’m going to include one that I did. I think I need to rework it a little if I decide to post it. 

Anyway, enjoy this really fluffy, really cheesy, I don’t know what I was thinking kinda part. 

w.c. 1.2k (fluffy, fluff fluff; I’m trying to rot your teeth with the sweetness)

pt.1; pt.2; pt.3; pt.4; pt.5; pt.6; pt.7; pt.8; pt. 9; pt. 10; pt. 11; pt. 12; pt. 13

Jihoon pushes through the door and immediately hears giggling. He’s had the longest day in the world with one day blending into two. It is now almost 34 hours later, and he just wants to go to bed. Considering, it’s almost 8, Eunha should be winding down for the night. Gone are the days when his baby used to sleep when he slept or slept in his arms while he worked.

Mochi scampers up to him, skidding slightly as she loses traction on the hardwood. Jihoon scoops the puppy up and lets her lick his face in greeting. After taking the puppy to the groomer and getting Mochi properly cleaned, she turned fluffier than either of them had expected. The groomer said that she’ll get fluffier with more cleaning.

Jihoon leaves his bag in the kitchen so he can’t see it and heads to the living room. What he finds in his living room can only be described as a fort.

“What in the world is going on?” Jihoon demands. He was going to use the word fuck, but he recognizes his daughter’s giggling inside.

She pokes her head out the top. Her hair is up in a messy bun and her glasses emphasize her makeup that has started to smudge. “Building a fort.”

Jihoon lifts an eyebrow. She’s likely built the entire thing on her own. Eunha would have been absolutely useless. “Isn’t that a ltittle childish?”

She tips her head, her gaze dropping down briefly. A smile breaks out on her face as she presumably looks at Eunha. Then she meets his eyes again. “Does that mean you don’t want to join us?” Her head disappears back into the fort.

Jihoon waits a moment. He puts Mochi down and even his dog bounds into the fort, causing another burst of giggling.

He moves to stand in front of the TV and squats down. He finds Eunha already showered and dressed in her pajamas, cradled in her arms. The two girls look up at him and she makes a point of cuddling Eunha closer, showing off his cute baby and just how cute she actually is. When he searches for Mochi, he finds his white puppy already dozing underneath the bend in her legs.

Jihoon can’t help but smile, still shaking his head in mock disapproval. “Move over then.”

Eunha squeals in excitement as they move over to make room for Jihoon on Eunha’s other side. Jihoon listens while she reads Eunha a bedtime story. They’re reading the first Harry Potter, which isn’t quite scary yet, though his daughter has proven to have an affinity for scary things. One of her favourite games with Seungkwan, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan is to try to jump scare him.

She reads just until Eunha’s entire body goes limp. She adjusts Eunha so that Jihoon can hold her before stretching down to scoop up Mochi.

“You look exhausted,” she comments.

Jihoon hums. “Your reading almost put me to sleep.”

She reaches her free hand to Jihoon’s hair. “Why didn’t you?”

“I haven’t talked to you in a few days,” he hums. Her hand through his hair has the same effect as it does on Eunha and Mochi.

“You stressed out?”

“Not really. The album’s coming along.” He yawns. “Just a lot of stuff going on.”

“What else is wrong?” She chuckles at Jihoon’s cocked eyebrow. “You only force yourself to stay up and talk to me like this when there’s something you need, my love. So, what is it?”

“Can you pick up Eunha from my parents in two weeks?”

Her smile falters slightly. “You’re going on tour?”

“Yeah. Yeri’s parents are going to watch her for two days and then my parents will pick her up and take her to Busan.” Jihoon makes a face. “My mother might also be trying to find a way to talk to you without me around.”

She nods. Jihoon’s mother is nice. She has the sort of cut-throat attitude and blunt way of speaking that she’s found in Jihoon.

Jihoon digs around in his sweater pocket. He pulls out two plane tickets. “And if you wanted to come to Tokyo for the last stop of the tour…”

Her eyes widen in surprise. She stares at the tickets in his hand and then meets his eye. They’ve been together for nearly two years now. Eunha’s presence has made the relationship go faster, but also settle faster than any of her previous relationships. But considering that Jihoon performs constantly, she’s never seen him perform. Since Jihoon’s never brought it up, she assumed it wasn’t important to him.

Apparently, she was wrong.

“You want me to come?” She takes the tickets out of his hand and reads the information. “You want me to come to your concert? And bring your baby?”

“If bringing Eunha is too much of a hassle, I’ll tell my parents that Eunha will stay until we get home.”

She blinks. “This is just for me?”

“Eunha’s been to a lot of my concerts.” He pushes hair out of his baby’s face. “And you’ve never been. I want you to see it.”

She leans across Eunha to kiss him. Mochi stirs in her hands. “Sorry, baby.” She turns her attention to Jihoon. “Yes, I’ll come.”

Jihoon’s expression is of someone who didn’t expect a yes. “You can just take off from work like that?”

“If no one will open, I’ll close the café in the mornings.” She looks at the ticket. “Since I’m apparently being invited for a weekend.”

Jihoon nods. “If you’re willing to join me, I’m going to extend my stay. Mingyu, Wonwoo, Coups hyung and Jeonghanie hyung, said they were willing to stay to help cause some…” he tips his head both ways, “diversions, if necessary.”

That statement causes her to laugh in disbelief. “Wow. So, I can have you for a whole weekend.”

“They’re also willing to baby sit for a while, so if Eunha does come, we can still spend time together.”

She throws a hand up in faux frustration. “Well, Jihoon, how could I even think of not coming? You’ve planned it all.”

He chuckles. “Happy anniversary, jagi.”

She pouts. “One, we agreed anniversaries don’t matter. Two, we agreed no gifts or stuff if we remembered them.”

“You already take care of Eunha when I can’t. That means more to me than you could ever understand.” He nudges her with his arm. “That’s gift enough.”

“You adorable piece of,” she lowers her voice to say, “shit.”

Jihoon grins. “The members were mentioning that I’ve never invited you to a concert. And Seungkwan reminded me that it’ll be another year next week.”

“We have not been together that long, have we?”

“Well neither of us actually knows, so I believe him,” Jihoon says with a shrug.

“How exciting though,” she hums. “Shall we sleep?”

“What?” Jihoon looks around, “in here?”

“Well, unless you want to take down the fort and make the beds for us to sleep in, go ahead.” She snuggles down, Mochi now asleep half on her shoulder and half on the couch behind them, and Jihoon’s grip loosens as Eunha rolls over to cuddle into her.

Jihoon’s not going to ruin this adorable image, so he settles down next to them.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December Contest Submission #18: No Longer Here

words: ca. 2500 setting: Modern AU lemon: no cw: Mild language, incest guilt

Anna can’t sleep. She’s tried to for the past half an hour, but tonight’s events prove to be too much for her mind to let pass; and her restlessness doubles knowing that her sister still hasn’t come to bed either. She slips out of the covers and opens their bedroom door. Her footsteps are quiet along the carpet, listening for any worrying sounds. There’s a dim source of light coming from their living room, and Anna goes to it.

Walking through the hallway with the outlet that doesn’t work, the overhead light that flickers if you turn on the dishwasher, and the cream-colored walls riddled with patches to cover large holes made long before they moved in.

She finds Elsa, sitting on their lumpy couch with a blanket draped over her. Elsa turns around and smiles at her sister, under the light of their lonely desk lamp Anna can still see the puffiness under her sad eyes.

“Hey,” Elsa says softly.

“Hey,” Anna replies. She wonders if her eyes carry the same sadness.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not really, it’s- I mean I guess I’m a little cold,” Anna lies.

Elsa opens up the blanket and tilts her head towards it, her smile grows more inviting even if her eyes say something different. “Come here. I’ll keep you warm.”

Regardless of whether she’ll take the invitation or not, Anna moves forward. “You sure?” she asks her sister wearily. “You’re still not mad at me for earlier?”

Elsa’s smile falters, but she can’t possibly think they weren’t going to talk about tonight. Maybe she was hoping to have this conversation on another day. Anna sees the same look she saw hours ago, a stress that comes from trying to keep the peace for a whole damn year, and failing. A stress that says she’s barely holding it together. It hurts to see Elsa try to take the burden on for both of them, but she knows her older sister’s too stubborn to let her carry her share. “I wasn't…” She sighs, “Anna, I was never mad at you. I just didn’t like how you acted in front of mom and dad, that’s all.”

Anna finally decides to sit with Elsa on the couch, warm arms welcome her into the fabric cocoon, hastily renovated to fit two. Her sister’s embrace feels as it always does: safe, secure, loving. She hears a soft, happy hum from Elsa when she leans into her shoulder, but peace won’t come so soon, so easily. “Well then maybe dad shouldn’t keep calling you a groomer,” she replies, holding back the other, more horrible things he said tonight.

If they weren’t in public, she would have reamed out the bastard. And her mother too, who let him say nasty things to Elsa while she stared blankly at them. It’s been so long since Anna’s seen any emotion from her.

“They’ll come around eventually, but until then we just need to keep taking the high road.” Elsa takes a second too long to answer, but it’s enough for Anna to know that her hope is weaning too. Anna’s hope died long before.

She looks ahead at their dark, paint-chipped wall devoid of any decorations and certainly any family portraits. They don’t even have a TV yet, just a laptop propped up on a small coffee table. Anna had the silly idea of painting a fireplace on it where they could “warm themselves up” during the winter. And while Elsa doesn’t necessarily object, Anna knows she’s holding out hope for a bookshelf when they knew can afford it.

When they can afford it…

It’s a miracle they could afford to this apartment to begin with. It’s a miracle their upstairs neighbors aren’t stomping around like elephants right now. It’s a miracle their power hasn’t gone out in two weeks.

But the life they’re living right now doesn’t feel like a miracle. It feels like a punishment, a condemnation for choosing themselves against the world, a heavy cost for love. Sisters shouldn’t love each other the way Anna and Elsa do, and yet here they are defying logic. But what good is that doing for them, right? Is love not enough? Do they no longer deserve a happily ever after?

The thought of that makes Anna’s skin burn with anger. She sits up quickly, startling her sister and taking a large portion of the blanket with her. “Why do we want them to come around, Elsa? Why do we keep going to these fucking dinners with them? It’s been a year and nothing’s changed, they still hate us- hate you- and we just have to sit there and…listen to them talk about us like we’re not even there. I hate it!”

“Anna, they’re our parents,” Elsa says in a tired tone, as if she knows that excuse doesn’t work that well anymore. “Understand where they’re coming from, what if you had kids and one day you found out they were in a relationship together?”

Anna scoffs, “I’d sure as hell be much more understanding than those assholes. Like yeah maybe I wouldn’t get it, and I’ll be freaked out at first, but if they were like you and me they’d love each other so much, I’d see it. I’d know what that love looks like, and I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

Elsa looks all ready to ask another question, but something inside her hesitates. Instead, she sighs and clutches at the blanket left on her lap. “Yeah…”

Curious about how she would answer it, Anna asks, “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you had kids, and they told you they were dating, how would you react?” It’s a little softer than the question Elsa asked, a little less real. They didn’t tell their parents they were dating, they got caught.

Elsa keeps her eyes fixed on her lap, really pondering this question. “I…well it’d be a lot to take in certainly.”

Anna knows her too well, she knows that Elsa wants to say more and really tell her how she’d react. But anything more would be a painful admittance of their parents’ mistake. Still, she prys one more time. “But would you hate them? Would you kick them out of the house and force them to live with friends and in homeless shelters until they found a shitty apartment to move into?”

Elsa looks at her with wide eyes, utterly shocked at the notion. “Of course not! At the end of the day, they’re still my kids and I love them.”

“Then you’ve already shown more kindness towards hypothetical children than our own damn parents have shown to us.”

Once again, Elsa looks poised to say something but hesitates. It’s not the time, the dinner tonight still weighs heavily on them both. She looks at her sister and says with eyes threatening to tear up again, “Anna, please. Can we not do this tonight?”

“I…okay. I’m sorry.” Anna drops the subject, disappointed yet understanding. A year might be enough for her to see their parents’ true colors, but for Elsa it’s going to take a little longer. Anna takes the blanket and places it once more around them both.

She remembers when they bought it. Three months ago at a thrift store, the same day they bought their couch. Elsa loved it because it was so big and soft, Anna loved it because the dog stitched on the corner looked just like the one they had when they were kids.

She missed Olaf.

Elsa, as a sign of gratitude, opens her arms again to invite Anna back in. Anna’s embrace feels the way it always does: warm, strong, calming. On the hard days, when she gets too caught up remembering their past and the nightmare they had to live for a little while, sometimes this is all she needs. When they once again settle into the couch, Elsa replies, “No, it’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize for anything, you were just speaking your mind. I wish I could do the same, but…”

She trails off, but Anna doesn’t need to guess what she was about to say.

“You still think this is your fault.”

Elsa bites her lip, and looks at Anna with a guilty expression, “I just keep thinking…what if I never kissed you underneath our apple tree? What if I’d just waited a little longer for mom and dad to leave so they didn’t catch us? What if I let that boy Hans ask you to prom instead of taking you myself?”

“Well, you definitely shouldn’t feel bad about Hans,” Anna responds with an amused grin. “I heard he got arrested for trying to rob a gas station with a water gun.”

That assurance doesn’t seem to be enough, however, and Elsa squeezes Anna’s hand. Maybe to try and assure herself, or maybe so she makes sure her little sister doesn’t leave her. “Still, I think that maybe at least your life would be a little better if I’d kept my feelings in check a little more.”

This is new, at least for Anna. She’s always suspected that Elsa’s held on to this guilt, but it’s the first time she’s ever vocalized it.

She looks at her older sister with narrow eyes, the orange glow of the lamp accenting the severity of her gaze. “You really think that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Elsa replies sadly.

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“Wh-what?” It’s a risky move to go with an insult rather than comforting her sister, but thankfully Elsa looks more confused than hurt.

Taking this as a good sign to continue, Anna places her hand on Elsa’s cheek and makes her keep eye contact. She knows her sister gets antsy when she gets too serious, but Anna needs her to listen. And she needs to see her eyes. “Elsa, you didn't make me go to prom with you, I chose to do that- hell, slow dancing with you to Thinking Out Loud is what made me fall in love with you in the first place. You didn’t force me to kiss you underneath the apple tree, I was counting down the seconds till mom and dad left so I could kiss you again like we did the night before. And you didn’t make me move into this apartment with you, I wanted to. I wanted to spend every one of those moments with you. And I want to spend every moment with you, good or bad, because I love you, dummy.”

Anna seals her statement with a kiss. It’s a little awkward to start given their position on the couch, but once she tilts her head up and Elsa moves down a little, their sitting arrangement becomes an afterthought. For a brief moment, their troubles melt away.

They’re no longer in an apartment barely large enough to fit one person, with a broken heater, and a roach problem. They’re no longer the scandalous sisters who had all images and mentions of them scrubbed from their parents’ social media accounts. They’re no longer the disgraceful outcasts that they see in the mirror when the other one isn’t around.

They’re just Elsa and Anna, in a world only they know, with a love only they can understand. And the fire cast upon them will never burn brighter than the fire they built together.

When they part, Anna adds a phrase she picked up a while ago. Something that always makes Elsa blush for some reason, “To the moon and back.”

Elsa smiles, containing her honest feeling of bliss, and replies softly, “And I love you to the sun and back.”

Anna rolls her eyes amused, “Elsa, you gotta find a better phrase to say than that.”

The smile fades into a frown. “You don’t like it?” Elsa asks, and Anna swears she adds a little bit of sadness in her voice just to drive in the guilt.

“I don’t like this image of you walking across the sun for me,” she explains. “The sun's really hot, you know? It’s on fire.”

“Well, maybe I’d walk through fire for you.”

Anna closes her eyes for a second as those words hit her like an arrow to the heart. “…okay, that’s a good one.”

Elsa grins proudly and leans forward for a kiss of her own, much more chaste so as to leave Anna wanting more. “See? I can be romantic.”

It’s highly successful, but Anna’s too proud to admit it or to grab another kiss in response. Instead, she scoffs and says, “I never said you couldn’t, you dork.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Well, you’re a bigger dork for loving me.”

“You’re an even bigger dork for loving me.”

“Fine, then I guess we’re both dorks!” Anna concedes. “Hopeless, emo dorks with shitty parents and a shittier apartment.”

It was nice to feel normal for a second, but they can’t hide from their predicament forever. Escapism can only take you so far, and they try to use it sparingly. Lately, however, it seems like it’s getting harder to escape from their reality, as if something needs to change unless the life they’ve built for themselves might come crumbling down.

And where would that leave them?

That’s something they can’t afford to think of right now. One day at a time, that’s how they have to take this. Elsa rubs her sister’s arm and instills a little bit of hope, “My coworker said they might have a vacancy at his apartment complex soon. It’s a little more expensive, but I’m hoping if I get that promotion, then we can afford it.”

And Anna contributes her own hope too. “I’ve got an interview for a restaurant position on Monday. Hoping that goes well so I can finally start helping with the rent.”

“I’m sure it will.”

Anna wants to believe…has to believe. If not, she’ll spiral down into a nightmare torrent of anxiety that Elsa will have to rescue her from. And she won’t do that to her sister, not after all she’s doing to keep them together.

But this night cut a little deeper than the others, and Anna needs to know. “…hey,” she says softly.

“Hey,” Elsa replies.

Anna looks into her eyes, searching and…pleading. “We’re going to be okay, right?”

Elsa smiles and kisses her forehead, “Always.”

Anna smiles because she believes her. “Good…” And she wants to say more just to keep the conversation going, just to settle in the solace with her sister, but a long yawn betrays her. She says defeatedly what Elsa already knows, “I’m tired.”

Smoothly, Elsa slides the rest of the blanket onto Anna and places her hands on her arms. “Let’s get you to bed.”

They take the same path Anna took earlier, neither in much of a hurry to get to the bedroom despite another yawn escaping Anna’s lips. Elsa opens the door and leads her inside, pulls back the covers and lays her on the bed, lays down the other blanket and kisses her one more time. Anna falls asleep with a smile on her face.

Half an hour later, Elsa goes to bed too.

[wastelandcth]

call if you need me - cth

call if you need me (calum hood x fem!oc) || masterlist || series masterlist

summary: how the love calum has for her and his hopes that she would let that love come to life.

warnings: mentions of sex.

author’s notes: hello! this is my new series based off of vance joy’s album nation of two. please let me know what you think! 

next chapter

Calum could get used to waking up next to her. She was the last thing he saw before he had gone to bed the night before, their bodies tangled up in the sheets, hearts racing as they both came down from their highs. He loved her, he knew he loved her since their first night spent together in the darkness of her bedroom, but he wasn’t sure if she felt the same, so he kept his feelings at bay. He could her feel her shifting in bed before his eyes even opened that morning, his arms pulling her closer to his chest, not wanting to let go of her just yet. His brown eyes ached as he slowly opened them, the sunlight flooding his senses. He looked down at her frame, chuckling as he saw the mess of curls atop her head. She smiled sleepily as she heard him, looking up at him, a blush creeping up onto her cheeks. Calum could do this every day for the rest of his life, but he knew that Clementine was just looking for fun, and it seemed like he always found himself in situations like this when he was with her. His heart ready to take the plunge and dive into something new and adventurous. He felt like he had been here before, Clementine in his arms, his love ready to spill out but he bit his tongue, knowing he’d rather have her like this than not have her at all. 

She had been broken too many times. Had always worn her heart on her sleeve and dove in deep, only to have to pick up the broken pieces on her own. That was until she had met Calum. She could never find the right words to describe him, none ever perfect enough to showcase how he made her feel. They had started their arrangement a couple of months after she had broken up with her boyfriend, the cheating bastard who took her heart and stomped on it a couple of dozen times before leaving her alone in an apartment she thought she’d go crazy in.  Her friends convinced her that going out to a club would help her get over him, help her have fun for once in the entire time she had been living in LA. She remembered how he had looked that night at the club, how the darkness of the club had almost hidden him in the corner of the bar, the occasional flashing lights illuminating him, and showing off the glitter on his cheeks. She was awestruck, his smile was addicting, she couldn’t hear what he was saying but the people around him all seemed to laugh at whatever story he had been telling, he was mesmerizing. She made her way over to the bar, needing a break from all the dancing she had been doing with her friends and their partners. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” she heard a voice say, her head turning to look at where the accent was coming from, “Seem like you need something to refresh you, will all that dancing.” he nodded and chuckled a bit, raising his hand up to get the bartenders attention. She was flustered, her mind trying to process what he was saying, “Gonna have to tell me what you want to drink, sweetheart.” he had teased and let out a small laugh as he saw her try to compose herself. “Uh, beer is fine.” she finally spoke out, smiling at him, “Thanks, I’m Clementine,” she said happily. 

The pair found themselves a few hours later, stumbling into a CVS with fluorescent lights that hurt her eyes but brought his beauty into a clear view for her. She squinted as she led him through the empty aisles, thankful that he had better vision than she did at that moment. She squeezed his hand gently as she found the wine she had been talking about, her words slurred as she looked at the bottle, handing it to him and nodding. “Trust me, it’s the best thing ever.” she laughed, leaning against him tall frame, Calum nodding and chuckling as he held the wine and a couple more snacks he had grabbed on their way in. And before she knew it, she had ended up tangled in her bedsheets with the cute Australian with an addicting smile, her heart full, and her mind buzzing. 

“Flights at eight tonight,” Calum said as he leaned against the bathroom counter, his voice echoing throughout the room. He had been doing a last-minute check on his suitcase, making sure he had everything before he left for weeks on end, humming a small tune to himself. She was in the shower, her hair lathered up in his shampoo, a small smile on her lips as she looked at him through the glass walls. “Thanks again for agreeing to take Duke while I’m gone,” he mumbled, watching his lover as the sun rays coming in from the window made her skin look golden. He was conflicted, leaving for a world tour to do the thing he loved the most made him ecstatic, yet he had to leave the one person he wanted by his side behind forever. 

“That’s okay, I’m pretty sure he liked me better than you, anyway.” she teased, stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her frame and one hiding her hair away, “You can Facetime me anytime you want to see him too.” she nodded and shrugged, “It is going to be weird not having you one phone call away though,” she said quietly, her statement causing Calum’s eyebrow to rise, butterflies flooding his stomach. She was going to miss him, the very feeling scaring her as she realized that she wouldn’t be seeing him until the end of the year. “Can also just call me if you need me, yeah?” she mumbled, the question coming out more like a plea, and laughed softly as she walked out of the bathroom, letting out a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding. 

Clementine sat in front of her mother, two months after Calum had left for tour, two months of only small conversations and dog updates. Duke sleeping on her lap as she told her everything. She told her mom about how he was electric, how she didn’t know how she had lived before him, and how she was afraid to ruin it all. Her mother chuckled, listening to her daughter vent her feelings out to her, shaking her head a bit and taking her daughter’s hand. 

“I just don’t understand why you two aren’t together yet, it’s obvious that there are feelings there.” Clementine’s mother said as she set the plate of pasta in front of her. “You two just need to realize that if you don’t try, nothing will come of it. You can’t just try to ignore these feelings you have for him,” she said softly, “You can’t get struck by lightning if you’re not standing in the rain.” 

Clementine looked at her mother shocked, realizing that maybe all she wanted was Calum. She wanted the good parts and the bad ones too. She wanted to be the one he would call if he felt homesick on tour, wanted to be the one who could get him through the dark times. She wanted his love. She just hoped that he wanted the same. 

Calum was alone on the tour bus, his finger hovering over Clementine’s contact, he wanted to hear her voice, wanted to know how her day had been or if she had done anything fun with Duke. He had been avoiding her for the last couple of weeks, thinking that maybe it was the best way to ignore his feelings for her. But now he was sat alone on a tour bus as his friends were out exploring whatever city they were in with their partners. And he wished that he had you here with him, his arm around you as you both explored the cities he’d traveled to in the past four months. 

“Calum?” her voice was soft, a hint of relief laced into it as she picked up after the third ring, “I...Duke’s okay, he’s at the groomers still, they said they’d call once he was finished.” she mumbled. Calum was silent for a bit, trying to find the right words to say to her, to tell her how he felt. He felt lame, trying to confess his feelings for the girl he loved over the phone while she was thousands of miles away from him. “Calum?”  she repeated, frowning as she couldn’t hear his voice, “What’s going on, bub?” 

“I-I’m going home for a couple of days.” his voice finally said, coming out more like a question, “I-we have a small break between shows and I, I want to see you and Duke. I want to talk about this, about us.” he held his breath as he waited for her reply, his hands already reaching out to grab his laptop to look for the soonest flight back to her. 

“Yeah? I’ll wait for you here,” she said softly, Calum could tell she was smiling, the tone of her voice shifting which made him think that maybe she felt the same way about him. That maybe him booking a red-eye flight back to her would be worth it, that maybe the next time he flew out of LA to do what he loved, it would be with her by his side. 

[ramble-writes]

Shitty Holidays

The idea for this is based from art @ywwywwy did of Frank at a table sitting on one end as his foster family is at the other. As for how Frank is, it’s this idea of Frank as a wolf because hey, why not? lol. So here it be!

-

There was light flakes of snow drifting within the wind outside. There was the squeals of two kids filled the house along with the gentle voices of a mother and a father trying to get their children to calm down. But... There’s a third, sitting quietly at the other end of the table as yellow eyes glance from the food on his plate to the chatty family on the other side of the table.

Frank Morrison, age 16, was sitting there as the family chatted away. Keen ears picked up a chuff of a dog under the table. Honestly, the dog being a German Shepard, was the only good thing out of this new foster family. Though at first he and the dog didn’t get along, it was a day alone he got to have the house to himself and, like usual, the dog would growl and bark at him every time he took one step outside. That ended quick when he had shifted and he established dominance.

That aside, the family themselves didn’t really pay attention to him. For sure when they agreed to have him that they were twitchy on the idea of his skull jester tattoo with flames and baseball bats. He found it cool. The previous couple was ok with him having one since they had tattoos like sleeves, on the legs, small ones, and various others. The only problem in the end with that family was the constant arguing and they fact that the two were having a divorce. That was two months ago and here he is with this family that were just iffy with him in general.

“Frank, are you going to eat?”

The voice made him jump a bit. He focused his gaze to the father looking at him as the mother does her best to calm down the two maggots. The brother kept trying to steal his sister’s food and she would throw her balled up napkin at him. Yellow eyes blinked as he got his mind back to the present.

“If you don’t eat up, you can go to your room.”

His “room” being what is the little girl’s room with a bed that at least he is left with sleeping propped up or with his feet hanging off the edge. Frank glances down to the food sitting there that he can smell is loosing its heat and how the strong scent is fading. He stifled the whimper that wanted to rise up. There’s no denying that he’s hungry, that the wolf deep down was starving. He just.. There’s too much moving around homes that he lost appetite. It doesn’t help that the mother took her time to make this dinner for Thanksgiving (second Monday of October), and he’s sitting here having not even touched it.

“Louis, leave him be. We only have him for a month or so till they can find better housing for him. Or if his parents-”

“They don’t want shit to do with me..” He couldn’t contain the slight growl to his voice. He hates it how every family he’s been with when they talk about the time they have with him that they mention “if his parents want him back.” Bullshit, he would say all the time. They left him for a reason. Over a stupid fuckin’ reason. So what if he’s a late shifter? They didn’t even bother with him further! Not his fault that also their marriage fell apart.

“Oi! Watch your language *garçon,” Louis said firmly. Frank didn’t know French, nor did he care. If it was an insult, fuck this guy. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. He’s sick and tired of the constant moving, families one moment saying they’ll take him in and then the next moment doing shit that hurts that either he calls up the foster home or the family does, blaming him for shit he didn’t do.

Frank stands up, slamming down the fork and knife in his hands down onto the table with a clatter. His breathing picked up, his jaw felt strained with feeling his teeth get bigger along with his body. It wants to expand, to let the wolf raging inside out to maul the stupid Frenchy.

“Yeah? Well you try being only 5 years old when your parents not only want you, but procced to go through a divorce as well that they throw you into foster care because of you! You try bouncing around home after fucking home from abusive families, from groomers, from cultists. You try going through a family who honestly wanted you and were denied of adopting you that it fucks you up.”

This made Louis stand up enraged with his face going red. “Go to your room!”

“That ain’t even my fuckin room!”

“Boys! Please calm down! It’s Thanksgiving and we should be happy and-”

The dog barked. A loud sharp one. Cheder, as the dog is named, stands and comes out from under the table with a growl. He sensed Frank’s anger and was ready to act on it. To protect him. This pissed off the man further.

“Cheder, come here.”

“I don’t think he wants to listen.”

“*Tais-toi. Cheder. Come. Here.”

The German Shepard still didn’t move. He just walked backwards to stand next to Frank. Pack mentality. In all honesty, he and the dog did grow to have a bond with the time he’s been here ever since shifting. Boy, Frank couldn’t help the shit-eaten grin that spread across his face.

“That’s it. I’ve had it with your attitude! We’ve tried being nice to you and-”

“Nice?! Ha! You did nothing but ignore me! You didn’t do shit to stop Cheder from snapping at me the first few times he was inside the house! When it came to shopping for clothes for school you picked out shit for me! You let Maggie and Wayne pick out their outfits, but didn’t let me do shit. We won’t get on the topic of the tattoo, but oh how I fuckin hate it when you won’t even look at me when you talk to me like a fucking man.”

This made everyone go quiet. Even Cheder. Maggie looks to her father with tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

“Papa.. I’m scared...”

Louis hushed her gently, but by this point Frank had enough. With a scoff, he turned on his heel and headed for the back door to the backyard. He needed to run, get it out of his system. He could hear Louis mutter about calling the Alberta Foster Care to get him in the morning, but again, he didn’t care. He heard the mother coming after him, calling his name as he headed out into the cold night. He knew Cheder followed, but over the fence the dog couldn’t.

Frank didn’t care that he heard the mother become frantic quick at seeing him hop the fence. Once up and over, he broke out into a run, wanting to get far from them. Wanting to get as deep as he could before shifting mid run. Dark brown fur took over what was once fair skin was along with a lighter tone underside. Two legs and arms popped and changed to being four legs and paws as big as his hands. Everything from his chest, shoulders, thighs, and head enlarged. Face extended out to a muzzle and a wet nose. Every human tooth grew and sharpened to that of a wolf as the final touches of ears and tail sprouted.

There standing in the place of where a boy was, was a Brown Timber wolf, but bigger due to him being a werewolf than a shapeshifter. Fully formed, Frank wasted no time sprinting deep into the forest till it was just him and the surrounding trees with what little snow flakes got through the thicket of the pine branches. Out here, he’s free. Far from the grasp of any human, far from the grasp of the foster system. It’s out there where the wind blew through his fur that he felt better with the cold nipping at the pads of his paws and his nose, the breeze making him blink a few times over. It’s out there where he spent the rest of the night, curled under some upturned roots of a tree.

By morning, he woke to the sound of his name being called. Multiple voices ranging from male to female. Some he even recognized as the trees made their voices echo down to where he is. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to go back. But fate isn’t his to decide. With a sigh, Frank stood up and shook himself out and stretched before shifting back to himself. A sigh left him as he made his way towards the voices.

The person assigned to helping him find a foster family was there, the parents Louis (reluctantly) and Hanna were there along with an officer or two. Upon seeing him, Hanna just rushed at him and pulled him in for a tight hug. He didn’t reciprocate it. The adults talked as they headed back to the house. He wasn’t surprised to see all his stuff packed up.

Not a word was spoken as Frank grabbed it and headed out to the waiting running car. In an instant, Cheder came rushing out after him with loud whines and practically shoved his head into Frank’s stomach. This made him sigh as he bent down to pet the dog, lowering his head to place on Cheder’s with a hand going through thick fur. If he could, he would’ve taken Cheder with him. But he can’t. It was like the German Shepard knew his thoughts because the dog backed away despite still whining, then turned to head back into the house with head and tail low.

There was no goodbyes as he got into that car to head back to the foster home, no glances back. Nothing. The person that drove tried to ask him questions on what happened, but he didn’t answer, didn’t want to as his eyes watched houses change as they made their way back to the major town of Alberta. Frank was just tired of all of this, tired of the changes and faces he doesn’t bother to remember. Sleep sounded like the better option for now. Getting himself as comfortable as possible, he let his eyes drift shut with the cold window to his forehead, letting himself let go and doze off with not wanting to think what the next family would be like.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 82

Chapter Summary -   Danielle deals with her aunt and talks to Tom as he attends Gucci's fashion show. As she speaks to Siobhan, she comes to a realisation.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​​ @wolfsmom1​​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

"It's not happening," Danielle stated firmly. "I am not going to ignore the fact that you want me to have no say in this, as well as the obvious reason why?" Bernadette folded her arms. "Really, Miss 'no degree' thinks she has uncovered the imaginary issue does she?"

"You have Aunt Lourda bullied into selling her share, so without me, it becomes two against one, since Uncle Michael refuses to sell, meaning with me on Uncle Michael's side, you are trapped, two on two and because you are one person badgering her to sell, and myself and Michael will badger Lourda to keep it, which we know she actually does want, you will lose." Bernadette's face fell. "Seriously, if you had brains you'd almost be dangerous with your conniving, but you actually are so blatant with your ideas that it is actually embarrassing."

To her right, her uncle chuckled. "She has you, Bernie."

Bernadette's face contorted angrily. "Matthew should not have given you everything, you are too spoiled." "Dad didn't give me everything, he gave a lot to others too, just not to you because you hated one another, he had no time for you and your notions. I know you are the one that took my Mam's statues, by the way." Danielle commented. "The galling thing is, I don't actually care, I hate statues, but you having the brass neck to come into my home and take them, that was a total piss-take." "What?" Michael asked in shock, "I thought…" "I gave them to her, no, I didn't, I would have, you are the only one who actually likes those things before, for that, I actually want them back." "What'll you do with them, your mother would want them looked after." "Yeah, she would, not thieved though. Sure, look sell them to get whatever bill you are trying to get paid, paid. That's my bargain." Danielle bit her lip, it wouldn't do to call her aunt a 'mewling quim'.

"I am not in debt, how dare you, I would never…" "If you use a credit card, you are in debt." Danielle pointed out, "You opened your purse in front of us, you have three, ergo, you are in debt, but for whatever reason you want to sell the house, I am not budging. Go to the Credit Union like the rest of us."

Bernadette stormed out of the room, calling Danielle a litany of names as she went. "You've pissed her off good now," Michael commented as he put his tea in the sink.

"I don't care, Nan said specifically she did not want this house sold," Danielle stated, Michael nodded in agreement, he had been in the room when she said it. "Dad told me not to let it, and Nan told you all not to let it be sold, so as long as I am a Hughes, I will not let it." "Is the day ever going to come that we'll get to see you not be one?" "Jesus, don't you start." Danielle scoffed, seeing her uncle stick his tongue in his teeth to show her he was joking. "I am so far away from that right now." "Really, I heard Siobhan tell Deirdre you had someone in England." Danielle froze for a second, "Really?" "Yeah, some British lad, about your go, is that right?" "I don't...I did have someone, I don't anymore." "Odd, Síobhan said you seem to be smitten with him." "Síobhan's talking out her arse." Michael laughed. "You are your father's daughter, Danielle." She got to the hallway when she bumped into someone else. "Hey." "Hi." Laura gave a small smile, "I didn't see you there." "No, you're grand, have you seen Síobhan?" "No, she and Deirdre went into Galway I think." "Shit, alright, thanks, you look well by the way." "Thanks, you look good too."

The pair stood awkwardly for a moment before Danielle moved on. She walked outside and looked around. Danielle always loved her nan's, truthfully, if she could, she would buy it off her aunts and uncle and live there. The ocean was to the right, and fields of grass and cattle to the left and all around was just drips of houses every few fields and nothing else, she loved it. She bit her lips together, she was hoping that she would get to show it to Tom on their little getaway, stay a night there before moving down the country to see more people, now she would just take a few photo's, maybe if one was good enough, get it framed. Thinking of Siobhan telling Deirdre about Tom worried her slightly, but since her uncle had not mentioned a name or anything, she knew she mustn't have said too much. Thinking of Tom, she decided to see how Milan was going.

Danielle - Hey, dunno when or even if you'll get this, but how did Mac get on going to the kennels? Do you have a rug now?

Tom - Hey, I thought I sent you a message the day I left, but looking there, I never pressed send (Shame on me) he was good, seemed a little abashed we both left him, but as soon as he saw their dog, he was as happy as Larry. I also brought him to a groomer, they took out a lot of it out and recommended a brush, 'the Furminator' I like it!

Danielle - Good, though did you ever wonder who Larry was, and why the hell he is so happy? Thank you, I will pay you back for that.

Tom - I did actually :) How is Ireland?

Danielle - Complicated. How is Milan?

Tom - Good actually, the fashion show was fairly boring, but the after-party was good. I got to meet some people, exchange some numbers that may be handy.

Danielle - Good stuff, I just said I would ask how he got on, talk to you another time.

Tom - Sure, okay. Sorry, the letter didn't come when I was home.

Danielle - I'll just have to wait. Bye, Tom.

Tom - Bye Elle. X

Tom - Sorry, that was predictive text, I didn't mean to put the 'x' in.

Danielle looked at the phone, she hadn't even noticed the x if she was honest, but him putting that in stung slightly. She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that she told him she wanted to back away from everything, he was, as she knew he would be, respecting that and not trying to pressure her into anything. She had chosen this, and if something hurt, she had to remind herself that it was the result of her actions. She wondered if Tom met a nice girl there, one better suited to him. Biting her lips together, she repeated once more what she had said, if he did, there was nothing wrong with it, she had told him she was done, it still hurt though.

* Tom looked at the messages from Danielle as he stood waiting for a photoshoot to begin, she seemed more talkative, which was good surely, but she seemed to not be enjoying her trip home. He wished she would tell him, from what a text from Emma revealed, she was having a real issue with her aunt, one that was causing her more stress than was fair, but she did not tell him what it was.

As though by fate, he heard his phone go off as soon as he had put it back in his pocket, curious, he looked at it.

Danielle - just saw a picture of you at the after show, I don't know why, but that combo really works for you, loved it. :)

Tom smiled with almost childishly at that.

Tom - Really?

Danielle - Definitely, better than those grey boots by a long shot. ;)

Tom laughed. At that.

Tom - Were you Googling me?

Danielle - I may have.

Tom - I am honoured.

He had to go and do the photoshoot, so he placed his phone with the rest of his belongings and went to work.

Much to his disappointment, when he returned to it after, Danielle had not continued their conversation. Putting his phone in his pocket, he went back to his hotel.

* Danielle walked down the path of the garden, her face almost cold. Siobhan did not see her until the last moment when she turned around, she was startled to see Danielle in her face. "Hi." "Hey, Danielle." Deirdre half smiled, half looked worriedly at her older cousin.

"Hi, Deirdre, could you excuse us a minute?" Danielle smiled, though it was not a friendly one at her.

"Sure…" Deirdre brought her shopping to the house.

"What's…?" Síobhan asked worriedly.

"Did you tell her about Tom?" Síobhan didn't say anything. "Did you tell Deirdre about Tom?" She repeated.

"I told her you have a boyfriend in London, nothing else, I swear." Danielle calmed immediately. "It came out when we were talking about Laura and Evan and if they get married and then I mentioned that you could be first?" "We are broken up." She reminded her cousin.

"You are not properly though, I mean, as soon as you and 'Rear of the Year' are back around each other, you are going to forgive him, I have seen you on the phone to him, you got all sweet and happy." Síobhan pointed out.

"Talking to him is not enough to forgive him." Danielle pointed out.

"You know, and I say this with love, you are a top-notch bitch at the best of times, so I am guessing you let out some comments yourself that make you as culpable." "I…" Danielle couldn't argue that, she knew she had been nasty back to Tom, he wasn't a fame whore, but she had dug in the knife on that one. "Yes, I did." "So kiss and make up, and in the future, introduce me to Chris Hemsworth."

Danielle's brows rose, "He's married." "Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean I cannot look on, drooling." "Never met him." "Cumberbatch?" "Him, yes." "Is he as sexy in real life?" "I don't see the appeal personally, but he is actually really lovely; him and Sophie both are." "It's so cool you know famous people." "You saw I worked on Game of Thrones too." "Yeah, but you won't say anything about it." "I can't."

"Meanie." Síobhan got her shopping from the car. "I wouldn't tell her everything you know, I mean, I know we know each other better than you and me, because of the age difference and everything, but you told me that as leverage for the other thing, and you said nothing about me telling you." "I didn't do it because of that, I did it because I wanted to show you that I trust you too." Danielle pointed out. "I spent so much time being scared that it would get out, I told no one about it." she frowned. "I guess…" "What?" "Tom said I acted as though I was ashamed of him, I guess he's right, I never told anyone anything about us, I never made him feel like he actually mattered enough to tell anyone. I wasn't, but not telling any of you, I made it seem like I was."

Síobhan stood staring at Danielle; the girl she had seen stand stone-faced at both of her parent's funerals, who never once complained or groused at looking after both of them when they were ill, who never once said anything bad about having to quit college to do so, crying as she spoke aloud her realisation as to her wrongdoing in her relationship.

[bluecoloreddreams]

Hey, I love your TsukiYama fics, they are so good!!!... and some of them are so sad. But I was wondering, if Yama and Tsukki takes Himawari to her biological parents greaves and explains the situation that got them to adopt her when she is old enough to understand. I like to think that Yama tell his late cousin how their daughter is doing

Oh, thank you!!! So, at first, I was gonna answer this with just like, an author comment, but I can do you better than that: 

It’s April again. Time and time again, the spring opens up, cool air mixing into something warm as the cherry blossoms open, replacing the snow with pink drifts of petals. 

It’s time for change. They shift from wool coats to felted ones; Tadashi layers his shirts, long-sleeve, short-sleeve, jacket. They open the windows and doors, shooing out the last dregs of winter. The dog goes to the groomer. The cat gets cornered in the bathroom trying to run away from the flea collar. Uniforms get bought in a different size, one grade’s ribbon exchanged for another. 

There’s a house, now, in the suburbs of Sendai. A house that’s big enough for them all to spread and grow. The hot water works; the paint is new; there’s a laundry room and the door never sticks in its hinges. There’s a garden, a ramshackle thing with wildflowers and tomatoes and once, corn, straight from the bird feeder (before the cat got the bird, which was a traumatic experience all around). 

Tadashi tugs a brush through his hair, mouth full of bobby pins, trying to decide the most reputable way to style his hair. At the clinic, no one really cares what their vet’s hair looks like, as long as he does his job correctly. At home, no one cares either, because if it’s not loose or in a bun, it’s done up in some odd experimental style or another, complete with Hello Kitty scrunchies. His family, on the other hand… 

They’ve relaxed in the last few years, considerably. Extended family, not so much, but this is the only time of year he really sees them anymore. 

He sighs and pins his bangs back into his ponytail, figuring it will just have to do. He straightens his tie, a silk thing borrowed from Kei with dinosaurs printed up and down the length of it, and if it’s a little bit ridiculous to wear to a seven-year memorial service, then that’s just how it’ll be. 

He hears the car pull up, and he slips from the bathroom to pad down the stairs just in time to be nearly barreled over by the dog on one side and a flying mass of pigtails and rumpled school uniform on the other. 

He hoists Himawari up, groaning as he spins her around. Eight is probably too old to be carrying her around like he did when she was two, but hours and hours of picking up heavier dogs than her allows him a little more flexibility about it. 

“Woah there, you look like you rolled down a hill,” Tadashi says, setting her down. 

Kei clicks his tongue at the doorway, leaning down to take his shoes off, holding Himawari’s loafers in his hand. “Tell your papa,” he says, sounding amused. 

“Uh.” 

Tadashi closes his eyes and counts to five. “Himawari-chan, what did you do now?” 

“Sora-chan said I couldn’t have three dads and a mom so I pushed her down the playground slide but she grabbed me,” Himawari says, eyes decidedly not meeting Tadashi’s, suddenly very interested in petting Tikachu the Dog. 

Tadashi groans, kneeling down so he’s eye-to-eye with his daughter. “We don’t push,” he says. “You know that.” 

Himawari looks away from Tadashi, fidgeting with the ends of her pigtails. “She was being mean, and she said bad things about you and dad, so I pushed her.” 

“Show your dad,” Kei says, a smirk barely concealed. His arms are crossed as he leans in the doorway, eyes glinting behind his glasses. 

Himawari tips her head back and opens her mouth and Tadashi flinches. “Okay, well! That’s, uh, great! Please close your mouth,” he says, wrinkling his nose at the sight of a missing molar. “Kei, please tell me you have it.” 

“Mm. We also have to go buy new stockings,” Kei adds like he’s being helpful. 

“Okay! Okay, we’ll address this in a moment!” Tadashi says, standing up with a clap. “Himawari-chan, how about you go get changed while daddy and I talk?” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

Tadashi shoots Kei a look, who shrugs and spreads his hands out. “You let Nishinoya and Tanaka babysit her growing up, that’s not on me,” he says. 

“We’ll talk about fighting later,” Tadashi says. “You can’t fistfight everyone who thinks our family is a little odd, Himawari-chan.” 

“Yeah but,” Himawari starts, scowling and ducking her chin into the collar of her uniform. “You are my real dads.” 

Tadashi grins then, leaning back up against Kei as he steps up out of the entry. “You’re right,” he says, throat tight as Himawari flashes a toothy grin and flits up the stairs to her bedroom. 

“You suck at discipline,” Kei drawls. “And tying ties. Turn around.” 

Tadashi turns dutifully, smoothing his fingers over Kei’s shoulders, tapping the sunflower-embossed pin on his lapel. “Keeping that on?” 

“I’m always up for intimidating idiots,” Kei drawls, undoing Tadashi’s tie, eyes focused at the other man’s throat. “I go to pick her up and find her in the nurses’ office with a piece of ice and skinned knees and a referral. They were going on about no tolerance until they saw my pin. It was déjà vu.” 

“It was because of that project,” Tadashi sighs. “When school started the new term, when you were away at that conference in Tokyo, she did a family history project.” 

“I see,” Kei says, looping Tadashi’s tie expertly. “Where’s your blazer?” 

“By the door,” Tadashi answers. “I guess the other little girl is new to the school or to the class. Was she hurt?” 

“No, her mother ran into me in the parking lot, actually. She was nice,” Kei says offhandedly. He reaches up and tugs a piece of Tadashi’s bangs free, tucking it gently behind his ear. “There you go.” 

“Did you make Himawari apologize?” 

“What do you take me for?” Kei scoffs. 

“A sucker,” Tadashi snickers, ducking when Kei reaches out to ruffle his hair. He reaches out and grabs his blazer from the peg by the door, shrugging it on as Himawari comes thudding down the hallway in her black dress and tights, pigtails a bit lopsided as she grabs Tadashi’s outstretched hand. 

Kei takes her other hand, and they both hold her up as she shoves her feet into her obnoxiously sparkly pink boots. 

“Daddy got sunflowers,” she tells Tadashi. “He said I could have one.” 

“I did not,” Kei snorts. “She stole one out of the bouquet.” 

“They’re for my mommy and daddy,” Himawari protests. “One of them needs to be from me.” 

“She’s right,” Tadashi points out, letting Himawari tug free of his hand and skip towards the car. 

Kei rolls his eyes as Tadashi steps into his shoes. “And you wonder why she’s spoiled,” he complains. 

“Oh, no, I know exactly why,” Tadashi laughs. 

“Come on!” Himawari cries, tugging at the door handle. “Come oooon! We’re gonna go see my other parents!” 

Maybe it was wrong to be so open about Kana and her husband with Himawari from such a young age, or how hard they had to fight to adopt her. But they never wanted to hide it from her, never wanted her to feel like she’d been unwanted or left behind, so they told her in ways she could understand, took her to the graves and set up a shrine in the house and taught her how to leave food and flowers, how to say the prayers. They gave her Kana’s journals, with her tiny footprint and lock of hair; they gave her her father’s rock collection and taught her the names of the tiny gemstones in it. They tried to teach her in the hopes that she could grow and be happy and learn. 

April always brought changes, and not all of them good. Every year, Tadashi grapples with how he can be so thankful for something so awful, and he prays. He prays to apologize, to thank, to hope that he’s raising Himawari in the same loving way that his cousin would have. That she always meets their memory with a thankfulness and desire to love them without knowing them. That he and Kei can be the parents that she needs, that they can grow together, until the next time the petals fall. 

[ryuunosenshi]

how come you wanted to be a pig farmer when you've never lived on a farm yourself? Where I'm from, the only people who actually want to be farmers are those that grew up on farms

It’s pretty similar here, back in school I was the only student in my classes that didn’t live on a farm that I would eventually take over. 

Better(?) yet, no one in my family, from both my mother’s and father’s side, owns a farm, any kind of farm (both livestock and crops)! So it wasn’t like I came into contact with farming from a young age from visiting grandpa’s farm or something like that.

Ever since I can remember, I wanted to work with animals. I grew up with pets and while other kids were watching teletubbies or cartoons or whatever, I was watching Crocodile Hunter, Wildlife documentaries and Discovery Channel. (I also watched some cartoons as well, don’t worry, some of them were great! xD).

point is, I LOVED animals all my life and I while I wanted to be a lot of things when I grew up, like an astronaut or archaeologist, I also always wanted to work with animals in some way, whether that be as a zookeeper, a vet, a wildlife photographer or something like that. 

I got into this school that had a very general education geared towards animals, the kind that just gave you the basics after which you could choose a more specific field. Some of my classmates wanted to be vets (assistants/technicians), others zookeepers, some wanted to be breeders, or work in pet shops or wanted to be dog groomers, you name it. 

I always assumed I would go the zookeeper route myself and never really considered farming until we took a trip to another school. There we stayed for about a week and followed their classes and could see how they did things compared to our own school. 

and this school was AMAZING! First of, it was huge! It had so many animals that we could work with including an entire farm with all the proper livestock. (our own school was pretty small so we only had like two potbelly pigs representing the pigs and no dairy or beef cows or sheep at all).

One day this instructor took us to the school’s farm and showed us around and one of the things they did that day was artificially inseminate their sows (female pigs) and we could observe how they did that. After we watched some other guy (can’t remember if he was a student of that school or another instructor/teacher) do it, our instructor asked us if we would like to try it ourselves. I had never worked with proper pigs before since our school didn’t have them and I hadn’t done any farm internships yet because I though I would be a zookeeper but I thought; ‘’Hell yeah, let’s give it a shot!’’

(funny side note, there were only about 5 girls, including myself, in this group that day with like 30 teenage boys who all liked to pretend they were tough and cool because well, they were teenagers, but it was only the girls who took up the instructors offer xD The boys were all like ‘wait... you want us to artificially inseminate pigs? Like, you want us to touch them there to insert the tube?! No way, gross!!’.Yeah, real tough boys xD)

So, with the help of the instructor, I tried it and he said I did a good job and I LOVED it. It was like those rare moments of clarification and confirmation and at that point I knew that that was what I wanted to do with my life. Not necessarily the artificial insemination part xD (though it’s a part of the job I always liked doing) But just to work with pigs in general.

After we returned from that trip, I looked for pig farms in the area to spend my next internship and it’s one of the best decisions I ever made. I might not have grown up on a farm, or even have spend any time on professional livestock farms as a kid but that first day on that first pig farm internship, when I put on my new boots and coveralls and walked though the barns, I just felt like I was home.

Now, a lot of things happened since then, such as terrible schools and a toxic situation at home which were detrimental to my mental health, and I might not be able to ever work on a large, professional pig farm as I first intended. But the love for livestock and farming is still there, and it’ll never go away. I’ve made peace with the fact I'll never own my own (pig) farm one day, as long as I get to work with livestock in some other way, on a smaller scale. Which is what I’m doing right now. It might not be the most ambitious job, but it’s the best for my mental health.(I’m sorry this got so long, hopefully it’s not too much rambling and thanks for asking! ^^)

[tbehartoo]

Surprise Party!

Happy Birthday @seasonofthegeek! You always gift us so many wonderful stories, THANK YOU! Hope you like getting some stories on this special day

Characters (in order of appearance): Alya, Marinette, Nino, Adrien

Rating: General audiences- This is so much fluff!

Summary: Alya is hoping to give Nino the best surprise for his birthday this year

“Thanks for helping me with this, Mar-Bar,” Alya said as she added another flower to the cupcake in front of her.

“No problem Allie-Cat,” Marinette replied as she finished the leaves on Alya’s previous cupcake. “I haven’t had time to help with a baking project in awhile.”

“I thought you dropped by your parent’s place just the other day?”

“Yes, but it was just to invite them to Emma’s dance recital on Thursday,” she said with a sigh. “I didn’t really have time to do more than invite them and then run out to go pick up Louis from his gymnastics and grab Hugo from the groomer.”

Alya laughed. “I still can’t believe that you insisted on getting all three of those names in your family so much that you had to name the dog Hugo.”

Marinette frowned at her friend for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re kidding right?” Alya pitched her voice high and began to flutter her eyelashes. “And then Adrien and I will get married, have three kids: Emma, Louis, and Hugo, and maybe a hamster.” She looked at her friend and arched one brow, “Sound familiar?”

Marinette was stunned for a minute then broke out into a huge laugh. “I totally forgot all about that.” She was thoughtful. “I guess that’s why I didn’t fight Adrien when he wanted to name Louis after his mother’s father?”

Alya snorted as she passed her cupcake to Marinette and picked up another one to start putting the decorations on the top.

“Besides, Hugo just looks like a Hugo,” she said in defense.

Alya nodded. “That’s true. I can’t imagine him having any other name.”

They worked in comfortable silence for several minutes.

“What time will your parents be bringing the kids back from the movie?” Alya asked.

Marinette looked at the clock.

“They’re supposed to be done by 1:30, but then you have to figure in some extra spoiling time for Pelée. So probably 2:30?”

“They don’t have to do that you know,” Alya said frowning in concentration as she added another rose.

“I know it, and they know it, but you just have to face facts,” Marinette said and smiled at her friend. “Every child that comes within a five foot radius is now considered their grandkid.”

“I blame Nathaniel for that,” Alya replied. “Him and Luka showing up at the bakery with their adorable new baby, nearly in tears after Nath’s mother just shut the door on them, and then thinking that your folks weren’t going to do something about it.”

“I’m sure they just thought my parents would coo over their little one and offer a slice of cake on the house,” Marinette chuckled. “They should have known better than that.”

“I still can’t believe it was your mom that nearly knocked his parent’s door down and dragged them to the bakery to introduce them to ‘her’ new grandchild! And then almost stuffed Nath’s dad in the oven when he used that slur in her presence.”

“I think dad would have done it, but he was holding the baby and there’s no way he was putting him down anytime soon.”

Alya teared up a little. “I really love those people, you know.”

“I kind of guessed it when you made Pelée’s middle name Sabine and Maleek was given Thomas for his.”

“I guess that is something of a clue,” Alya chuckled.

There was silence as each woman thought back on the past and the role that Tom and Sabine played in their lives.

“So when is everyone else going to be here?” Alya asked.

“Well Luka and their lot will be here exactly at 2:37,” Marinette began.

“So five o’clock for the art colony,” Alya said knowing that between the artist and his husband, the musician, the concept of “on time” was a lost cause.

“Yeah,” Marinette said arranging the cupcakes into a tasty looking bouquet. “And Chloe and Alix are supposed to be here around three.” Marinette looked at the arrangement and switched the position of two cupcakes. “Bridget should be here any minute, but Félix won’t be able to come until he gets off work. Your parents are picking up the twins from university and then they’ll be here about three-ish. I haven’t heard back from Nora, so who knows with her. Nino’s parents are planning on picking Ysabel up at the airport right about now, so they should be here in half an hour? Maybe longer?” She started filling in the spaces between cupcakes with green frosting shaped like leaves. “And of course, Adrien is taking his job of distracting Nino until four o’clock very seriously. He’s already taken Nino to a fancy four-course lunch, shopped for party decorations, and they’re,” she looked at her most recent phone message, “looking at various steam cleaners they could rent to clean the rug,” she looked back at her phone, “but he just realized that should have been done a couple of days ago if the carpet is going to be dry in time for the party.” She looked at Alya. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell him that you’ve moved the party here so Nino can stop freaking out?”

Alya giggled and shook her head. “It’s the only thing I could do to surprise him for his birthday! Over the years I’ve tried so many ways to surprise him and it never works. Organizing parties on the down low? He always finds out at least a week before! I’ve tried hiding presents, giving him candles that don’t go out, gag gifts, a no birthday-birthday (sadly he really liked that one) everything I can think of to surprise him, but it never works. This time I might have gotten him!”

She sighed when Marinette’s phone pinged again. “It’s getting hard on him since he thinks we still have to clean up the more public rooms for this party, that I let him plan, and decorate, and get the food ready, and put the drinks to chill.”

“Oh that reminds me,” Mari said as she put the finishing leaf on the cake bouquet. She put the decorating bag into the bowl in the sink. “Help me get the tub down for the drinks?”

Alya grabbed the step ladder and followed Marinette into the walk-in pantry.

“I had to turn my phone on silent because it’s getting hard to ignore his texts,” she said as she climbed up to be able to reach the metal tub used at every gathering. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to want to erase those before I see them.”

Marinette nodded as she took the article. “He’s sent me a couple of texts to ask you to turn your phone back on. I’m afraid I’m throwing you under the bus here because I told him I passed on your message, but that you’re not speaking to him right now,” she said and grinned when Alya stuck out her tongue in her direction.

“That’s fine, but tell him we need more ice,” she started to cackle. “I always send him for ice at the last minute. And he knows that I won’t accept it from anywhere but my ice store.”

“How do you know he actually goes there?” Marinette asked. “I mean it’s half way across the city.”

“Well, first of all he has to show me a receipt,” Alya said. “And you best believe I check the date and time. Second, if I think it was too fast then I’ll check the trace I have on his phone, which he knows has to be on or I will send him to go again while I get rid of the inferior ice. Third, is something I only did at the beginning when he was testing my sincerity over how serious I take my ice. I call the shop and talk to the clerks. I know all of them and their loyalty is to me not Nino. So if I ask about him being there they’ll confirm or deny his story as the case may be. Oh, maybe I should call right now so they can pass along a message for me?” She looked at Marinette who was shaking her head.

“Alya, no,” she moaned.

“Alya, yes!” she countered.

“It’s a good thing you two love each other,” Marinette said as she started loading juice and sodas into the tub.

Alya just grinned as she called the convenience store to leave her message for Nino. Then she allowed that the inferior ice in Marinette’s freezer could be used to chill the drinks, but insisted on making a sign warning everyone not to use the ice.

Marinette got her friend paper and markers as she checked that they were ready for the party. Soon guests were arriving and presents began to pile up. With one text Marinette let Adrien know that Nino could be put out of his misery. Ten minutes later Adrien and Nino’s voices could be heard through the door.

“But dude if we’re only going to be a minute,” the sarcasm was thick for the last five words,”why should I bring in the ice?”

“Because it’s kind of hot out there and if you are missing too much of Alya’s precious ice we’ll have to go back and get more?” Adrien replied.

“Good point,” was the response as Adrien’s key was turning in the lock.

“Surprise!”

Nino was stunned. Adrien gently took the ice from his unresistant hands as Pelée and Maleek dashed to their father shouting “Happy Birthday!” at the top of their lungs.

Others came forward to hug and wish Nino a happy birthday, but Alya was suspiciously absent. Nino came alive in the embrace of his family and friends. It wasn’t until everyone who was there had given him hugs, kisses, and or fistbumps that Alya appeared in front of him.

“Are you mad?” she asked quietly, a little repentant for what she’d put him through.

Nino reached out and pulled her into a tight hug.

“How can I be mad when you’ve managed to get the most important people in my life into one room?” He eased back on the hug, but didn’t let her go. “And they’re here because they want to celebrate another year we’ve had together.” He brushed the hair out her eyes so that he could gaze at her. “This is the best birthday present I could ever have received,” he said with a huge smile.

Alya pulled him into a searing kiss which was only broken when Maleek came and demanded to be picked up.

After that, music was turned up, food was eaten, and a good time was had by all.

“Happy cake!” Maleek demanded.

“Yes, it’s time for happy cake little man,” Adrien said as he brought out the bouquet now lit with candles all over the sphere of cupcakes.

Nino demanded that Pelée and Maleek get to help him since he couldn’t possibly blow all the candles out in one go. It turned out that he couldn’t do it with two very enthusiastic helpers either. (Adrien had kindly switched out the candles for ones that wouldn’t go out.)

Once the cupcakes were demolished Nino was seated in a comfy chair to open presents. Pelée helpfully brought each present to him while Maleek was kind enough to help him open them. Alya was mostly on wrapping paper duty, but she also helped when a present was too heavy for her daughter to safely move.

Finally they were down to one present. It was a slim box that normally would hold a bracelet or perhaps a watch, with a large golden bow on top.

“This one’s from Mommy,” Pelée told Nino as she crawled up into his lap to sit opposite of Maleek.

Nino glanced up at Alya’s worried face before saying, “Well then I’m sure I’m going to love it.”

The box creaked open and the whole room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

Nino just stared at the gray, plastic wand and the word it was flashing in the results window. With a whoop of delight he swept his children up into a hug and turned them around. Then he set them down so that he could hug Alya. Then he pulled the little ones back in a family hug.

“We’re getting another baby!” he called to the room of perplexed watchers.

The entire room exploded in cheers. Soon everyone was surging forward to offer their congratulations.

Nino kept one arm around Alya and tried to keep a hand on the head of one of the children until they managed to escape to ask Auntie Nette for more treats.

“I take it you like your present?” Alya whispered in his ear between Alix’s handshakes and Tom’s crushing hug.

“It was the only thing that could have topped this surprise party,” he answered truthfully. He smiled as he kissed her cheek. “Have I ever told you that I just love my birthday present?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to hear it again,” she replied as she booped his nose.

He leaned in again to kiss her and then whispered, “I love that you are my birthday present.” He gently nuzzled her hair. “You’ve given me the most wonderful family and I am blessed to share this adventure with you.” He gently placed a hand on her abdomen. “I can’t wait to meet our next great treasure.”

Alya put her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his. “Happy birthday, my love,” she practically sighed.

“Yes, yes it is,” he whispered back.

[ezatluba]

The Most Ridiculous Gifts We’ve Given Our Pets

DEC. 10, 2019

Kelly Conaboy

The holidays are full of obligations. Parties, travel, cookie swaps, buying giftsfor people you don’t know much about, buying those people a saucepan because you assume they probably cook. But there is always one bright spot: choosing a somewhat egregious gift for your sweet pet whom you love so much.

According to New York Dog Shop owner Lisa Borregine, the most popular holiday gifts tend toward the more regular. Over the phone, she told me that although they do sell a few high-end bags, carriers, and harnesses, mostly from the brand Susan Lanci, the average person “doesn’t spend $100 on a harness.” (Or, I imagine, $3,199 for a carrier.) “That’s something most people think is over the top.”

Instead, the popular gifts are personalized carriers (the “Fundle” is popular) and collars. Borregine also notes that the shop sells figurines that can be painted, for an additional fee, the exact coloring of your dog. I have to say: That does sound quite tempting.

But what are the most outrageous things we, personally, have purchased or constructed for our pets during the holiday season or otherwise? I’ll go first: I once paid $60 for a dog-sweater re-creation of the sweater Danny wears in The Shining. My dog hates it very much, and, to be honest, it doesn’t even look good on him (even though he is extremely handsome). Do I regret buying it? Of course.

“So … yeah,” offered Nora, the owner of a corgi named Daisey. “I got an antique pram off Craigslist for our corgi. She’s not old or disabled. She’s just fancy.” Indeed, she is; it is quite clear from the accompanying photographs. She also notes Daisey “likes being up a little higher off the ground,” and who doesn’t?

“One year, we made a maze out of cardboard and put a pile of home-cooked brisket at the end,” Cut senior editor Jen Gann told me. “I’d imagined our dog joyfully racing through the paths, but he just stood at the edge, wagging his tail and staring up at us with hope in his eyes. Like maybe if he was patient enough, we’d tell him what was happening.”

A reader named Paolo submitted another lovely homemade gift. “My mother, who is both Italian and a graduate of Pratt, painted miniature versions of classical paintings for our dogs, Jazzy and Fionn, and hung them on eye level above their food bowls, so they could take in some culture while eating.”

Catherine, a dog owner near Philadelphia, told me this enchanting “tail” of a gift gone awry: “Our neighbor gifted our dog, Winston, a toy bunny, which we later discovered was a Christmas gift to their 18-month-old daughter.” Dog toys and baby toys tend to look quite similar — it’s true. “Winston destroyed it.”

New York City dog owner Brittany once got her beloved the gift of Brooklyn relaxation. “One Valentine’s Day, I treated my doggo to a full spa treatment at this posh groomer in Williamsburg, and he was so happy and clean and snazzy!”

Dhaaruni, a former stuffed-dog owner, wrote in with a story of a gift passed down through time. “When I was 7, I had a stuffed dog named Wishbone who had the exact same coloring as the Wishbone on the PBS show,” she said. “Fast-forward 18 years, and my family now has a golden retriever named Jude who is extremely spoiled and has more toys than my whole family had combined. I didn’t even know Wishbone made it from Dallas (where we lived when I was 7) to San Diego to Seattle and multiple houses in those cities, but my mom found Wishbone, gave him to Jude, and now Jude carries Wishbone everywhere he goes.”

Writer Libby Watson has a cat named Digby, for whom she bought a gift that, she says, “was really a gift for myself and my ego.” I’ll allow her to take it away:

“You know those videos on YouTube of two cats in stupid hats that ring a little receptionist’s bell and receive a treat? Of course you do. I think I had seen one of these videos like three or four times before I decided to pull the trigger and order a bell, with the intention of teaching Digby to ring the bell when she wanted a treat. (It was like $12 on Amazon.) Imagine how cute, I thought, if Digby put her little paw on the bell to get a treat, just like those little guys with orange hats over their ears, with their big worried eyes looming out. Imagine how proud I would be of my clever little girl!

Unexpectedly, the plan didn’t work out. I attribute this to two things: (1) Even though I was pretty careful about only giving her treats after ringing the bell (and only ringing the bell if I was going to give her a treat), my husband thought it was much funnier to ring the bell over and over, making it impossible to teach her the association between bell and treat. (2) Digby is not very clever, in fact.

We still have the bell. It is quite fun to ring.”

Writer Emma Specter’s gift went unused, save for one photo, which is sometimes the best we can hope for. “I bought my best friends’ Labradoodle a tiny dog backpack with a cartoon of a bear on it, because I wanted him to look like a fancy little schoolboy,” she said. “But he hated it, and they refused to force him into it, rudely.”

Michele, owner of a Shih Tzu named Radar, bought her dog several plastic baseball bats: “He actually had two or three. I believe two were the fat bats for little children, and then a skinny, regular-width bat. The bats were bigger than him.” She said her dog’s love of bats began after he found one of her daughter’s on the porch. “He grabbed it by the handle and just started growling (playfully) and swinging it around. His small but mighty jaws even managed to crush parts of it.” Of course, we are proud of Radar.

And finally, Zoe gave her cat the gift of dominance. “I bought (adopted) (“adopted”) a wolf from a wolf sanctuary for my cat, Eliza, so that she could feel more powerful and dominant in the household. They sent us a little packet, with her name on the adoption certificate, and she fell in love with his photograph instantly:

Bartholomeus Anglicus says "The wolf may not bend his neck backward in no month of the year but in May alone, when it thundereth" and I say that's another thing me and wolves have got in commonhttps://wolftree.substack.com/p/what-is-best-wolf-weather …

What is best Wolf weather

‘WOLF TREE,’ just like ‘BEAT YOUR WEIGHT IN WILDCATS’ and ‘JACK IN THE DARK WHERE ARE YOU,’ is a term I learned out of my lumberjack slang handbook along with other useful words and phrases, and has...

[Eliza] "related to [the wolf] Achilles’ photograph in particular as a starstruck 1950s youth to a Photoplay magazine, he was after all very handsome" here are the pictures, you've seen them before, you'll see them again. please read my wolf essay, it means so much to me

See the needle-felted head of joyce carol oates's other Tweets

oh my god I let myself start talking about nature's most despicable creatures, I am sorry to anyone who caught the horrors from it. as apology here is a picture of my cat making out with a photo of her boyfriend, a wolf his name is achilles

See the needle-felted head of joyce carol oates's other Tweets

(Eliza is deceased as of four months ago, but the sanctuary doesn’t know that, so as far as her wolf is concerned, she still owns him.)”

Dominance, even in death. Is there a better gift?

Please enjoy the holidays with your sweet animal, and remember: The gift of your love is the greatest gift of all. Unless they don’t like you. And you’ll never really know if they do, will you?

[shepardsleftboob]

Like. I’m just so shaken and upset that I’m just gonna copy and paste what I sent to my friends lmao. Basically what happened was a puppy didn’t like any part of the groom, and mike was holding him. Neither of us were rough. I constantly stopped to pet him and talk sweet, and I never once pulled on him. It’s how I am. I’m so gentle with bad dogs that other groomers get upset sometimes because some dogs need to be dealt with more firmly (and I agree sometimes, but this dog didn’t seem the type and there were clients up front). Cheyenne was checking out a client that’s never happy with anything, and I knew since there was clients I wasn’t going to push anything bc obviously I’d get accused of animal abuse. So I hear “I would kill” or something like that and cheyenne just walks away. And I’m like. Ok. And Sydney yells for someone to take care of the lady and the transaction so I step up. And I ask her for the $35 her groom costs and she ignores me and is like “who groomed my dog?” And I told her it was Lakeisha. And she was like “good. Because I never want you ever grooming my dog. You do not have to hold it like that, if you ever held my dog like that I would kill you. You could have muzzled it [[which, is not true, muzzling it would not have stopped it from being upset and I needed to trim the hair on the face anyway and it’s impossible to do with a muzzle on]] or you could’ve done something else.” And I was like, so stunned that I was like “uh ok I’m not hurting him, I’m not forcing him to do anything, I’m going slow and gently on him. He doesn’t like the groom because he’s a puppy. When he doesn’t like something I move on to something else. You clearly can see that. But you can feel that way.” And she was like “I will!” And I had to ask her fucking 3 times for the money and she gave $5 and was like “that’s for LAKEISHA” and I was like alright bye and walked away bc she was ready to keep talking. And while she was on her way out mike bitched up a storm loud enough for her to hear. Like “what’s that lady talking about!!!! She’s not a Groomer! She never groomed a dog in her life!” And I was like yeah. She really bitched me out. But there was still a different client in the lobby so Sydney wasn’t happy. I apologized but she said I was fine, she was mad at cheyenne. But yeah. After Sydney stepped out they all told me she would have went off on the lady. And Lakeisha said if she knew what was happening she would have stepped in and if it was up to her she’d be banned. If she personally said that to Lakeisha, she wouldn’t have taken that at all and would have straight up assaulted her. Which, now that everything’s over and done with and I don’t have to worry about my job on the line, I probably would have done myself. If I ever saw this old cunt outside of work I would definitely shit on her whole life and then some. Like, shove your shitty attitude up your saggy white ass you old fucking bitch. If she would have pulled that at Scott’s shop she would be running out of there screaming and be worried someone followed her home. But honestly this day sucked. I had sprained my ankle and didn’t have a chair all day. It was slow. So I endured all of this for $78. That is utter horseshit. And I hate being a Groomer. I don’t know how my mom did it for 30 years but I understand now why managers like Lianne and (back in the day) my mother had no customer service attitude at all with some people. I clearly see none of y'all deserve it. I am covered head to toe in bruises, scratches, cuts, and scars all because I would rather myself get hurt than the animal. I find that once the dog learns I will not react to its fit, it calms down. I literally have facial bruises (I would have had a black eye if not for my glasses) because a dog headbutted me straight in the face right in front of the owner and so you guys ever say anything? No. You give your shitty $5 tip and walk off then go onto your shitty blog and bitch about how the Groomer asked you to maybe try and bring your dog in before it got matted like that again. This is a daily thing. People laugh when they see their dog biting people. You do know I could call the cops and get your dog put down for this? But we don’t? Because we are decent people? But you guys don’t care. You are not decent people. Your $40 groom does not cover our hospital bill when that chow chow you thought was so cute at the pet shop but didn't bother to train bit us so bad we had to go to the hospital and on one occasion, my manager lost feeling in his right arm for a year because of that kind of bite. You treat groomers worse than anyone I know in the service industry and honestly all these customers can go fuck themselves, I can’t wait for the day I never touch a dog again in my life. I can clearly see why at least half of my coworkers are drug addicts or former drug addicts and the other half are alcoholics. I can almost see myself becoming an alcoholic because of how every day I come home, drink to forget the stress, and sleep.

[i-mushi]

Izzy

I’m on a roll! Izzy was only mentioned briefly as Jesse’s friend in the beginning of Fire Touched. (Whose first chapter I wish I could pin on my wall. Mercy vs. the Multi-Level Marketer.) She isn’t mentioned again as far as I know, but I wanted to peek into Jesse’s life, especially when the revelation about werewolves and her dad became public. I know it didn’t go like this and she probably didn’t have many friends sticking up for her, but in my head Izzy was there. Also, Adam would totally be that hot dad teenagers have passing thoughts about because come on, we’ve all been 16 and crazy. 

Izzy

Izzy swallowed for the third time as she drove down the dead-end street to Jesse's house. She and Jesse had been friends since third grade, and she was a wholehearted supporter of almost anything Jesse did. (Dyeing her hair with Kool-Aid was the only time Izzy had truly regretted that blind loyalty. It stained. Badly.) She loved Jesse and they were best friends, but Jesse's dad would always be intimidating to her.

He was, unfortunately for Izzy's hormones, attractive, all while somehow looking young despite being at least thirty-five. Christy, was starting to show her age, though woe be on anyone who mentioned it. They'd been divorced for a while now, and Jesse's dad worked a lot, so Izzy didn't see either of them much, but whenever she had he'd been hard to look in the eye. Her grandmother had always stressed being polite, shaking hands, and making eye contact, but Izzy had never managed the last one. She'd only seen him truly mad once and that had been enough to scare her badly.

She'd once even tried to tactfully bring up how… well, she couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about him. But despite being best friends forever, Jesse didn't talk about her dad or his colleagues and friends much, though Izzy had seen them around the house before. She wondered if that impromptu party, work event, or something she'd seen had been why Jesse came to her place now and she didn't go over anymore.

This lab project had to be done though, and since Jesse was grounded for getting that temporary tattoo at a party she wasn't supposed to be at (and making her dad believe the tattoo was real for a couple of minutes), Izzy had to go to her. She just hoped her dad didn't open the door; Izzy had kind of been dating a guy named Dave in school, but she was old enough to know the difference between boys and men.

She pulled up and grabbed her backpack as she got out of the car, jogging up the front steps before she lost her cool. Just because Mr. Hauptman looked like he could read her mind and was uncomfortably good looking sometimes, didn't mean he actually could or could tell she noticed.

The door opened before Izzy could hit the bell, but it wasn't Mr. Hauptman at the door. "Oh, uh, hi Mercy," Izzy greeted with an awkward smile. She was never quite sure how to act around Mercy, who Jesse loved like a big sister and who Jesse's dad was obviously smitten with. She was a family friend who Izzy had only met tangentially.

"Hi Izzy. Jesse's in her room with the music turned up. Can she change that scream-o metal for something a little more… classic rock?"

"She'll know you wanted me to ask that," Izzy pointed out.

Mercy shrugged with a smile. "Had to try."

Izzy headed up the stairs, spotting Mr. Hauptman as she passed Mercy. He smiled at her and she waved before focusing slightly harder on the stairs than necessary.

Jesse was flopped back on her bed when Izzy opened the door, the music indeed very loud. "I'm not turning it off," she said before Izzy could get a word in.

"I like the third track better, but the whole album is good." Izzy dumped her bag and crawled on the bed to lay down beside her best friend. "Any chance your mom could come back and plant a different bush under your window so you could jail break?" Being grounded sucked. Outside of school she hadn't seen Jesse in almost a week.

Jesse snorted and blew her stylish purple bangs off her forehead. "Probably wouldn't work anyway."

"Why not? We got out of my house over the garage roof."

Jesse rolled over until her face was planted in the pillow and muttered something, but Izzy couldn't make it out.

"What?"

"Not important. Let's get this lab done so I can get Mr. Bailey off my back."

Izzy frowned, sensing one of those secrets Jesse kept from her. "Is something going on Jesse? Is your dad and Mercy—"

"No, though she's been around more often recently, and he's better when she is. It's nothing, really." The way that Jesse turned away quickly to dig out her homework felt like a betrayal.

"You can tell me anything Jess, you know that. I don't keep stuff from you."

Jesse seemed to consider that, then scooted closer on the floor until she was at Izzy's feet, beckoning her down. Izzy sat cross-legged on the floor too and watched confused as Jesse pulled the heavy comforter off her bed and over them.

When their knees were touching and their breath was starting to heat up the impromptu tent, Jesse leaned her forehead forward until it was on Izzy's shoulder. "I wish I could tell you," she whispered, barely audible above the stereo blaring and the muffling of Izzy's shirt. "But I can't. Just… let's always be friends, okay? No matter what?"

Izzy put her arms around Jesse without thinking twice. "Of course, you couldn't keep me away. Who'd dye your hair after all?" Izzy's mother was a hairdresser who'd lent her talents and time to showing Izzy how to properly dye Jesse's hair and how to undo the horror that was Kool-Aid coloring. Jesse had been most impressed at how calm Izzy's mom had been when she'd walked into what looked like a murder scene in the bathroom.

"Ha," Jesse said without humor.

"Is it your dad? Or your mom?" Izzy considered how awful Jesse's mom was sometimes, and then how intimidating Mr. Hauptman could be. He worked in security, had Jesse seen something? "Witness protection program?" she joked.

That made Jesse smile and finally pull back from her shoulder. Her face was red, though Izzy couldn't be sure that wasn't the stifling warmth under the blanket or how hard she'd been pressing on her shoulder. "My dad's not a serial killer and mom only ditched me for Reno once."

"And for Las Vegas," Izzy added. Jesse had spent a spring break at her house instead of going to her mom's. Mr. Hauptman had only found out after day three when Christy finally called to ask when Jesse was getting on the plane. Izzy had been terrified when she'd opened the door to that ferocious glower, but when Mr. Hauptman had seen Jesse the flash of relief had been real. That had been the only time Izzy had seen him mad, and if she didn't know how much he loved Jesse she'd have been worried for her.

"Why can't you tell me?" Izzy asked, but Jesse shushed her.

"Not so loud. I—" She looked pained, but was getting more composed. "It's better if you don't know. Please trust me on that."

Izzy gave her a long look before grudgingly acquiescing. She knew Jesse and trusted her absolutely, even if she disagreed with her decision. It didn't mean she wasn't going to keep a sharper eye out. "Okay, fine," she whispered back.

"Great! Lab time," Jesse chirped with unnecessary force and threw off the blanket. Izzy blinked sharply in the light of the window, their moment of solidarity and secrecy gone in a flash.

Werewolves. Izzy sat dumbfounded in front of the small TV in the kitchen watching the morning news with her mom. Werewolves were real. Just like the fae.

She thought of all the movies about werewolves she'd seen and how dumb the Hollywood ones probably were in comparison to the real thing, and then to how uproariously Jesse had laughed when they watched Teen Wolf together—

"Do you think they go to dog groomers?" her mom asked.

"Yeah, sure," Izzy mumbled, standing up and swaying for a second under the epiphany she'd just had.

Normally Izzy didn't bother with the newspaper, but when she spotted the front-page article in her dad's hands she sat back down. "What's it say?"

"There's a list of known werewolves. Mostly in the military apparently. Probably a violent lot." Izzy winced. Hauptman Security wasn't quite like her father's accounting work.

"Anyone we've heard of?" her mom asked.

Her dad scanned down the list and Izzy held her breath. Surely she was wrong. They couldn't have outed every werewolf in the country, so maybe she was wrong or he wouldn't be on the list.

"Izzy," he dad said slowly, and her stomach felt like it dropped to the floor, "your friend Jesse. Her last name is Hauptman, right?"

Her stomach started sinking into the black hole beneath the floor. "Yeah."

"Related to Adam Hauptman?"

Izzy nodded, and her head felt like it was buzzing. Her dad opened his mouth to say something more when her mother cut him off. "That poor girl, living with werewolves. She's got good manners, though no wonder her father looks so young. Goodness, I wonder if the press will be at school."

The press… God Jesse probably wouldn't even go to school if they were there. Would they pull her out? Was her dad the only werewolf in town or were there more? Was Jesse one too?

"You've been over to her house before, haven't you?" Her dad interrupted, sounding alarmed. "Izzy, did you notice anything? Has Mr. Hauptman ever done or said anything to you? I can't believe such a dangerous creature was here under our noses!"

His panic made her angry, as much as her mother's telling silence when she looked at her. "Yeah, dad," she snapped. "He has said something to me. 'Hi Izzy, how are you?' and 'Jesse's upstairs right now'. He's a dad, dad."

Her father jutted his chin out like he did when he argued with her grandmother. It wasn't a flattering look and warned of his stubbornness. "Don't take that tone with me. Wolves are vicious animals, and we don't know anything about these werewolves and what their capable of. I don't want you around Adam Hauptman until the we know more."

"I'm not going to stop talking to her or hanging out with her, dad!" Izzy stood up quickly, knocking back her chair. She'd never feared for her safety around Jesse or her dad, and her father sounded like those pundits on TV talking about the fae.

"Izzy, honey, we just want to know if she, you know… 'inherited' it, if you know what I mean." Izzy's mom had gone for the placating tone, forgetting that nothing made Izzy angrier. She wasn't a child who needed the world to be explained to her, and she knew in that moment that Jesse wasn't a werewolf.

"Jesse's not a werewolf, she's my best friend. That's what matters to me." She grabbed her backpack and left for school, fuming and righteously indignant in turn.

Izzy had arrived earlier than usual, but her ears were already ringing with comments from the parking lot. Jesse wasn't going to stick out just for her purple hair anymore from the sounds of it; other students had put two and two together. Izzy ignored Dave asking if she'd known or ever seen Mr. Hauptman turn into a beast and stomped through the crowd to the front of the school.

She waited outside for Jesse to pull up, brushing off questions from hanger-ons. She recognized the SUV when it parked in front of the school but not the man driving it. Jesse took an extra minute to open the door, and Izzy was there the second she did, trying to act like normal even as the whispers around them surged.

"Hey Jess, did you bring my scarf? I texted you last night that I forgot it."

Jesse looked so relieved to see her that her white knuckles loosened just a little around the strap of her bag. "Yeah, I've got it."

The guy in the driver's seat tipped an imaginary hat at Izzy, eyed the crowd behind her, and drove off.

There was a three-foot buffer around Jesse and Izzy as they headed inside the school. People talked behind their hands and a few brave ones approached to ask questions, but Jesse refused to say anything more than they knew. "He's my dad, that's it. I'm not a werewolf too," she repeated all day. By the end of the day curiosity had started to wane, perhaps because Jesse had yet to turn into a wolf or because she refused to say anything more.

Her shoulders were slumping though, and she looked tired when Izzy caught up to her. They didn't have the last three classes of the day together, otherwise Izzy would have tried to be a buffer for her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Jack won't talk to me at all and Ms. White passed over me three times to answer questions. I feel like they're scared of me." Izzy leaned on the locker but turned in time to spot heads looking at Jesse then jerking away.

"Looks like your dad is outside waiting for you."

"Great, just what I need." She exhaled heavily. "I know it's not his fault, and it sucks that everyone knows what he is now, but he doesn't have to deal with school." She shot a nasty look at some of the girls down the hall who were obviously gossiping about her. Jesse had never gotten along with that group to begin with, but now they were outright ostracizing her.

Jesse saw their looks and his lips tightened as she packed her bag. "Guess I won't get invited to another school party."

"Well if I am we'll go together," Izzy promised. "And if I don't then we'll just party by ourselves. Maybe we should try rainbow-dyeing our hair for LGBT Awareness Month. You said the purple just made your dad roll his eyes."

Jesse looked up at her and finally smiled, though it was a bit more wobbly than her usual ones.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. No promises my parents will like it, but we've already proven it's easy to sneak out from my place." Izzy grinned down at her best friend.

"And now you know why I can't do the same. Dad can hear a pin drop from across the street." Jesse looked rueful for a moment. "I better go before he draws a bigger crowd."

There was already a large crowd loitering around watching him, but they didn't get much of an event. Mr. Hauptman smiled at Jesse, opened her door for her, and then hopped in his side before driving off. Not a snarl, growl, or tuft of fur in sight.

[emm-doubleyou]

BONES 12x02 Recap: The Brain in the Bot

With the mystery of The Puppeteer gearing towards a resolution at the end of last week, the second episode of the season was back to the typical Bones style of storytelling. But there was mention of Zack, just not prominently sprinkled throughout the episode. No hour of this show is truly stand alone. Every episode builds on the previous. And every episode illustrates the profoundly remarkable development of these characters.

The opening scene depicts a “traditional” body find at the Virginia Regional Dog Show. I put traditional in quotes, as there is usually nothing traditional about body finds. Two canine participants escape from their owners, as I suspect their olfactory receptors sensed a rather potent set of human remains. How could they resist? The dog owners are horrified. And I presume there is not enough time to visit a groomer before the competition. I absolutely love dogs, but I will never understand show dog grooming trends. That poor poodle…

Have I mentioned that car scenes are among my very favorite? I will undoubtedly be repetitious here by saying that I will never get enough of car scenes featuring Booth and Brennan. And the two of them had some really wonderful ones in this episode. Booth and Brennan are in the car heading to the crime scene near the dog show. Booth calls Brennan “incredible” for already putting together such a robust case file without having ID’d the body. But these are not case files. They are files she has pulled from the archives. Given Zack’s recent disclosures, she has begun reexamining the evidence from the lobbyist case. Booth is proud of her, and assures his wife that she is doing the right thing. In true Brennan fashion, she responds “I am simply looking for the truth.” But so far, the evidence is inconclusive. Booth comments on the volume of files she has assembled for the case. But the other files are actually for Brennan’s “surprise party.” I’m about as confused as Booth at this point. “Bones, you do know you’re not supposed to plan your own surprise party.” When has Brennan ever been conventional? Okay there have been a few instances in her history. But in this case, I shouldn’t have been at all surprised that she would plan her own party. “The traditional custom is illogical. Being startled is unpleasant, while engineering a surprise for others is proven to be quite pleasurable.” She is truly a gem. Also, I actually agree with her. Though, birthdays have never been my favorite thing. Moving on.

Booth really just wants to know what Brennan wants for her birthday. Even before she answers this question, I predicted the answer. Brennan has never been interested in presents, at least not in the traditional sense. She has treasured gifts given to her by Booth in the past. And this is because they meant something more. They were not particularly valuable in the monetary sense. But the thought and intention behind the gifts is what ultimately rendered them irreplaceable- Jasper and Brainy Smurf certainly could not have cost more than a few dollars. Though Booth has surprised Brennan with a few more conventional gifts in the past, including the lingerie and the necklace. But what do you get someone who has everything and wants nothing? Booth would eventually figure it out. But not just yet. Brennan lets Booth know that her party has a “strict no-gift policy.” But it’s a milestone birthday, and Booth cannot just let it pass without getting her something special. She assures Booth that she has everything she needs. And I believe that. Because she once said she wouldn’t travel to any other moment in time. And because she also realized she did not need a bucket list. She’s genuinely happy. She loves her family and her life. And while she wishes the lives of herself and her family were threatened a bit less, it’s a life she would not trade for anything. I did enjoy how Booth wanted to get her a “chunky stone necklace.” He knows her taste, for sure. He brainstorms other types of gifts he could give her. He throws around the idea of going to a concert. “The Tuvan Throat Singers already passed through town last month.” “Not quite the concert I was thinking of, Bones.” I love them. Could you imagine these two at a concert together? I’m going to pause here and think about that. 

At the crime scene, Hodgins seems to be having a good time scraping evidence off the poodle. The dog’s owner is not quite as jovial. She begs Hodgins to be careful with the dog’s fur. Cam and Brennan examine the body, and Brennan determines the victim is a male in his 40s. Cam finds it strange that there is a piece of plastic fused to the victim’s wrist, but no evidence of burnt tissue. “Huh...almost as mysterious as Dr. B’s birthday party.” Cam wants a hint on the dress code for Brennan’s surprise party. “Yes, wearing clothes would be advisable.” Knowing what I know now, Brennan really kept this secret well. Brennan’s acting has certainly improved. She gives Cam a sly smile after that statement, which affects me more than it should. Because Brennan is teasing Cam. And there was a time when she was 100% no-nonsense at a crime scene. Actually, both of them were. It’s always the little things for me. Booth comes back to the scene, as he has found a pipe on the trail. Hodgins asks for any leftover marijuana, and Booth shoots him a perplexed look. But Hodgins only wants to take it back to the lab for a forensic workup. Meanwhile, the poodle’s owner is growing more impatient by the second. She is panicking about the blood fused to her dog’s coat. Brennan instructs the woman to be patient, and Booth tells her they are trying to solve a murder before dismissing her completely. But she’s still worked up. And promises “hell to pay” if the blood turns her dog’s coat pink. Hodgins is fed up too, and attempts a quicker approach to gathering the evidence off the dog- shaving the off. However the owner was not going to let him butcher her dog’s coat. She sprints down the hill and tries to pry the electric razor from Hodgins’ hands. And poor Hodgins accidentally shaves off one eyebrow. He asks if it’s as bad as he thinks it is, and his colleagues just stare at him in wonderment.  Yes, Hodgins. It’s not great.

On the platform, Brennan observes evidence of post-mortem blunt force trauma and fractures to the legs. Angela receives a call from an unknown number and chooses to ignore it. Brennan posits that the body could have sustained such intense trauma after death by being dragged. Daisy takes this moment to ask Brennan if she would serve as her reference for a position at the NFL- NOT to be confused with the National Football League. Now that Daisy has finally completed her doctorate, she has applied for a job at the National Forensic Lab. Brennan agrees to be a reference, but advises “Dr. Wick” not to get her hopes up. “In light of your young age, landing a job of that status would be a long-shot at best.” Angela points out that Brennan got her job at the Jeffersonian when she was still in her 20s. Actually, if my math is correct, Brennan was in her early 20s when she first came to the Jeffersonian. “Yes. But that was clearly an exceptional circumstance.” She really is just telling the truth. And obviously Brennan believes Daisy is an exceptional intern as well- Again, based on what we know now about the ending. At that moment, Angela ignores yet another call. I wouldn’t point this out, except it becomes more relevant in a few scenes. The unknown number has now called Angela three times at this point. That’s about when I would block a number, but I suppose it’s a good thing she did not.

Hodgins ascends the platform and is ready to share that he pulled prints from the pipe found at the scene. But the ladies on the platform cannot look at him without laughing. Poor Hodgins. “You’re...asymmetrical.” Apparently Angela told Hodgins that his missing eyebrow was barely noticeable, which makes me love the two of them even more. Hodgins attempts to continue explaining his findings, but the rest of the team cannot hold it together- especially Cam and Brennan. Long story short, the person smoking the pipe in the woods was likely there when the victim was killed. And I can hear Brennan’s laughing still echoing off the walls. Bless, Emily. 

Aubrey corners a man stumbling down the street named Randy Stringer. He claims he did not call an Uber. But Aubrey assures him he’s not Uber. Randy was in the woods the night the victim was killed, and the pipe found near the crime scene belonged to him. Randy was arrested twice for selling LSD and once for assault with a deadly weapon. He denies selling drugs, but he does sell sausages? All he witnessed that night in the woods was “a dude” walking around with a flashlight. He attempted to explain when and where he saw said “dude.” And FOX got a nice Sunday night Animation Domination shout out. Randy asks why he’s being questioned, and Aubrey informs him about the body dump. Randy then spouts off some nonsense about Mother Earth. This man just seemed far too random to be completely innocent in all this. And Aubrey looks so done.

Brennan enters Angela’s office to check her progress on the facial reconstruction. But this case did not require any reconstruction. The victim could be identified by the piece of metal on the his wrist. It was a “skin mounted bioelectronic fitness monitor.” Hodgins chimes in on how Angela can find the ID using this monitor. But Brennan is surprised and seemingly delighted to see that Hodgins has somehow produced a new eyebrow since last she saw him. “Sorry to ruin your laugh fest there, but yeah!” He constructed the eyebrow using hair from his beard. This man is as precious as anything. Brennan and Angela try to keep from laughing, as the eyebrow still does not quite look normal. Hodgins is frustrated that he has not managed to shut down the ridicule yet. Suddenly, Angela’s phone rings yet again. Obviously, it is not a prank call and not a wrong number. She picks up the phone and tells the mystery caller on the other line that she has no debt and is not interested in buying a cruise. But mystery caller must have said something to pique her interest. And also incite a bit of confusion. She asks if the caller is sure that they have reached the right person. She exits the room to talk, and leaves a seemingly perplexed Brennan and Hodgins behind. Brennan takes that opportunity to shift focus back to the case. She was unaware these types of biometric fitness devices were available to the general public. Hodgins hypothesizes that the victim may have had some sort of occupational connection to the tech world.

Angela returns to her office and with a look of pure astonishment on her face. “You guys are never going to believe this, but I just won a MacArthur Fellowship. You know, the one that everyone calls the ‘Genius Grant.’” Hodgins is absolutely thrilled for his wife. “That’s unbelievable.” Brennan agrees with that assessment. To her, it is “truly” unbelievable. She explains that it’s one of the most prestigious awards a scientist can get. “They said my work with the Angelatron was groundbreaking.” Hodgins goes onto say “I always knew I married a genius.” “Technically you did not. Though Angela is incredibly talented.” Angela is a bit put off by Brennan’s lack of enthusiasm. Hodgins tells Brennan that Angela is her best friend and she should try to be happy for her. And she says she is happy for her. She just never imagined Angela would achieve this honor “let alone before I did.”

Here’s the thing: The way this scene seemed to be playing out at this point, well, let’s just say that we have seen that particular storyline before. I had ample time to think about this storyline between the time the sneak peek came out and the west coast airing. There was once a time when Cam won the Outstanding Women of Science Award. Brennan struggled with the fact that she was not the recipient. It’s not as though she discounts Cam’s intelligence or contribution to forensic pathology. But in her mind, objectively speaking, she is the most outstanding. Whether or not you think it’s right, you really have to attempt to understand her perspective. It’s obviously not her intention to come off as jealous or bitter, by any means. This is her friend and her colleague. Brennan only works with the best in their field. And she knows Cam is certainly that. A conversation with Booth would make her reconsider her stance on the award. 

Booth, do you think I'm being small-minded about Cam getting the award and not me?

Yes.

What?

You might want another answer, but I can't give that to you.

But I'm clearly the best scientist.

And are you a worse scientist because Cam's getting the award?

Of course not.

See? Yeah. So you're just being petty because you want to win.

I thought you would take my side. I am on your side, okay? I'm on your better side.

Booth can see and read people. He understands their motivations. And what’s most impressive is his understanding of Temperance Brennan. That’s a tough nut to crack. But he knows how her mind works (for the most part), and he’s not going to tell her what she wants to hear. He’s going to tell her what she needs to hear. And it’s effective. Brennan is truly exceptional in so many ways. She is the best in her field. And she is one of the best scientists in the world. She is still exceptional even if someone else is honored. I am about to go off on a major tangent here. But I can relate this to Meryl Streep and the acting world. That woman has been in countless films and has hundreds upon hundreds of nominations. She is arguably one of the greatest actors of this particular generation (some would disagree, I happen to believe she is brilliant). But she cannot win every single award. In fact, she will be the first to tell you she is the biggest loser in the history of the Academy Awards. Does that make her any less exceptional? Absolutely not. With Brennan, she is still the queen of forensic anthropology. It’s not a bad thing to have someone else recognized for their invaluable work. Whether it be Cam or Angela or Hodgins. They are all exceptional at what they do. That is why they all work at the Jeffersonian. Brennan knows this. It’s ultimately why she apologizes to Cam and supports her as the award recipient. Though when Cam surprises her with the announcement that the three Jeffersonian women + nine other exceptional women of science would be honored, Brennan is stunned. And she is duly impressed at the credentials of the other women who agreed to be in this rather unconventional spread. All of them are brilliant. And all of them make key contributions to their field. It’s important to celebrate different people and different achievements so as to encourage more people go get into science.

My reasoning for bringing the past up is that it would  be a recycled storyline to have Angela receive an award and make Brennan react poorly to it. It would also be a gross example of regression for this character. It’s not as though I knew in that moment that it was all a ruse to throw Angela off the trail. But I did know that it was going to play out in a different way. We are much too eager to jump to conclusions sometimes. I simply was not willing to believe Brennan had not evolved past these feelings. In that moment in season 9, she learned. And she grew as a result. She realized that it was okay for others to receive accolades. She can still certainly believe she is the best. But how many times has Angela and her brilliant technology helped crack or solve a case? Bones has taught me several lessons over the years- not to jump to conclusions, look at all the evidence, and that sometimes it’s okay to rely on your gut. The evidence tells me that Brennan has evolved since season nine. And also that she is a constant surprise. And my gut tells me there is something more to this story. This was a very roundabout way of getting to this point. But that’s how I reacted to this particular scene. On a semi-unrelated note, it’s also how we should approach teases and certain spoilers. I think there would be an overall reduction in blood pressure levels if we did.

Angela refocuses her attention on the Angelatron, as it has come up with an ID from the fitness monitor. It belongs to a man named Ian Goldberg, who Hodgins recognized. He built robots to help children on the Autism spectrum. The three of them watch one of his videos featuring AMI, a robot, interacting with a young boy. ���There’s someone who deserves the genius grant.” The trio cannot understand why someone would want to kill such a kind-hearted man. 

Booth and Brennan are back in the car on the way to visit the victim’s work. I did find it strange that the two of them were listening to the radio, since we never really hear them do that when they drive. But I suppose I didn’t think too much more of it. Booth notices that Brennan has been quiet during the ride, and asks if she is at all upset that Angela won the “McDonald’s award”  But Brennan claims that she is not the slightest bit jealous. She is still quite focused on planning her surprise party. “It’s not every day that one turns 40.” I grew considerably more curious with every mention of this party. But it should be no surprise to anyone that Brennan was going to make sure everything was planned and perfect, down to the very last detail. Daisy calls with evidence that indicates someone punched the victim repeatedly in the back of the head. Booth calls it a “rookie move.” Daisy figures that whoever punched the victim must have sustained a serious hand injury.

After Brennan hangs up with the lab, Booth asks her about Social Cybernetics. He makes a Star Wars reference, which of course goes right over Brennan’s head. She talks a bit about the work Ian Goldberg did with robotics. She explains that he created complex systems designed to emulate the human brain. Booth believes that it’s insane to think that a robot’s brain could come close to a human’s. “At the end of the day, humans have something that robots will never have...a soul.” “The existence of a soul has never been proven with scientific data.” But Booth begins to explain that you don’t prove the existence of a soul. He’s interrupted by a very familiar tune. And even louder, he tells Brennan that a soul is “something you feel!” And now I definitely recognize the song. “You hear that? That’s our song!” Their song. I may melt. “You hear the soul in that?!” All Brennan can do is look on at her goofy husband and laugh, with so much love and adoration twinkling in her eyes. Booth begins to sing along to Hot Blooded- and while I consider it to be the most adorable sound in the world, I’m not sure he would win a Grammy for his performance. That’s what makes it so endearing. Brennan continues to smile the brightest and most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen. She’s utterly charmed by this man. And I am charmed by them. 

I do believe my reaction to this scene upon first viewing was a series of offensively loud shrieks. There is something so special about a Hot Blooded moment. Sometimes it’s hard to believe there have only been (now) four of them. Because it seems as though it has been such a constant over the years. I am about to go off on yet another tangent…

The Hot Blooded phenomenon began in season one with Two Bodies in a Lab. Booth and Brennan were still getting to know each other, and this was also the first time Booth had been in Brennan’s apartment. He was there because he refused to let her out of his sight- someone had tried to kill her. They shyly interact and discuss music. Booth is surprised to see that his partner owns so much jazz, and she explains why she loves it. He looks dazzled already. And then he finds a CD, which excites him. He puts the disc into the player (this was 2005, iPods were a thing, but not everyone had them…) and Foreigner began to ring out from the speakers. Booth started dancing and singing, and then Brennan joined in. It was the beginning of them. And if we ignore the fact that Booth was blown up in the next minute, it’s such a sweet moment.

The second occurrence of Hot Blooded was in season five. Booth and Brennan were recovering from that fateful night outside the Hoover when Booth asked Brennan to give “them” a chance. She couldn’t. She didn’t believe she had the kind of open heart required to be in a relationship with this man. She could not give him all that he needed. And she couldn’t risk her friendship with Booth. That friendship was the most important thing in her life. If they took that next step, she would surely ruin it. And he would leave her. Because everyone eventually leaves. Booth stayed because she asked him to. And because I think he couldn’t actually bear to leave her. He only decided to go back to the Army at the end of the season when finding out that Brennan was leaving. I never look at that time as awkward. They were both in pain. But Booth was there for Brennan. And she was there for him. And during this particular case, they were able to engage in a carefree and somewhat nostalgic moment. Hot Blooded began to play at the “fantasy camp” and Booth is energized to hear “our song” playing. He convinces Brennan to go up on stage with him and sing. And they do. It’s an emotional marker of where they are in their relationship. But it’s also a vital component of their story.

The third (and most recent before this episode) time Hot Blooded resurfaced was when Booth and Brennan were living together with a baby. They had just wrapped up a very emotional case with an adolescent victim. Before the boy died, he made a mixtape for the girl he loved. Brennan wondered why Booth never made her a mixtape. But she chalked it up to the fact that she is not a very romantic person. I actually would disagree with that. In the end, Booth finds Brennan playing “dancing phalanges” with their daughter in the kitchen. He tells her he has made a mixtape for her. “I find I think that is very sweet.” I’d be willing to bet that no one has ever thought to make her a mixtape before. Which makes me both sad that no one ever understood her enough to truly love her like she deserves, and thankful for Booth. Booth adds that it features their song. “What, we have a song?” “Every couple has a song.” And she finally realizes which song is playing. They dance around the kitchen with their little girl. And it is perfect. Because you think back to the previous times this song was played in the show, and where this couple was at that time. And how far they have come. And now, this fourth time. They are married. That little girl is nearly seven. They have another baby boy who is likely walking by now (we know he is highly skilled at utilizing a spoon!). Each Hot Blooded marks a significant time in Booth and Brennan’s story. I find that beautiful. So when I react to the inclusion of Hot Blooded. It’s not merely because it’s their song and it’s recognizable to me. It’s that my mind barrages me this montage of flashbacks detailing this couple’s beautiful journey.

Booth and Brennan arrive at the Social Cybernetics lab, where they come face to face with a robot named AMI- an acronym for Advanced Modular Intelligence. Both Booth and Brennan appear quite impressed with AMI. AMI assesses each partner's’ facial expressions. “Dr. Brennan appears 78% curious and 22% jealous. Agent Booth is 94% amused and 6% skeptical.” That seems about right. The woman showing them around is “100% nervous.” She claims it’s only because she’s being questioned by the FBI, which for the time being I believe. She tells Booth and Brennan that she and Ian had a “fruitful” working relationship, and that they would have likely reached singularity with their technology within the next decade- making these machines indistinguishable from humans. After watching Westworld last year, I’m not certain that’s the best endgame. Booth notices a man with a wrist brace, and questions him about it. The man claims it’s Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, but don’t try to pull that with Brennan around. She semi-aggressively grabs his hand, and informs Booth that he has a Boxer’s Fracture. “You don’t need a robot to figure that out.”

Back at the FBI, Booth and Brennan interview Alan (the suspect). His injuries are an exact match for those found on the victim’s skull. Alan admits to hitting Ian, but not to killing him. Booth attempts to get Alan to admit to murder, but the man sticks to his story. Brennan notes that if one of her employees struck her in the back of the skull, she would have immediately fired said employee. But Alan claims he would have been too hard to replace. He is the best coder they have. Booth inquires as to where he was on the previous Friday evening. His answer- his desk as Social Cybernetics. Rather than waste their time on him, Alan recommends that Booth and Brennan speak to the “nuts” from “Stop the Robopocalypse.” I laugh about this now, but I’m sure it’s a very real fear, relative to the future and the advances being made in robotics. Apparently, Ian used to go onto this organization’s blogs and bait members into fights. This baffles the partners, as it seems out of character for someone who has dedicated so much of his time and energy to helping Autistic children through this advanced technology. Alan explains that while Ian was an invaluable asset to the field, “in reality the guy was a dink.”

Did he just say dink?

I think he did.

Cam finds Daisy in the bone room and asks if she has heard from the NFL. I find it really difficult to not to think about American football when this acronym is mentioned, even after having watched this episode dozens of times already. Daisy hasn’t heard from the organization yet, and cannot stop stressing over it. She’s concerned about what Brennan might say if they call her for a reference. Daisy wonders if she could call the NFL herself, and make Cam a reference instead. I know Brennan can be blunt. But let’s say we didn’t know how this particular story plays out. A reference from Temperance Brennan probably holds more weight than any other person in the world, no matter what words she uses to give the reference. Additionally, Brennan would not have agreed to give Daisy a reference if she believed she wasn’t capable of handling the job. And she would tell Daisy that- because she is blunt. But Brennan agreed. Which means that she likely had positive commentary relative to Daisy’s skills and intellectual acumen. Though looking at it from Daisy’s perspective, I know what it is to stress over a job like this. I understand how your mind will not shut off and stop worrying when you’re essentially in limbo waiting to hear about a position you legitimately desire. I’ve been there. It’s excruciating. You wonder if you should do something more. Should you follow up? Should you send another reference? It can drive you to the brink of insanity. But if Daisy could just breathe and think rationally, she would understand that it’s in the NFL’s hands now. And if it’s not the right job for her, then she will find something else.

Cam recommends that Daisy focus on her work in lieu of worrying. Daisy has found multiple incidences of blunt force trauma, but there is no rhyme or reason to any of the injuries. The trauma occurred both before and after death. Cam leaves to ask Hodgins to swab the skull, but she turns back to Daisy before she goes. “If the NFL doesn’t hire you, you’ll always have a job here.” Daisy smiles, though I think it would take her a little while longer to really process what Cam was telling her. These two make me so happy. All of their scenes together lately have been all too lovely. 

Angela confirms that Alan was telling the truth about working on the Friday night the victim was murdered. Aubrey begins talking about robot conspiracy theories to Angela (who thinks AMI is actually adorable), and he is starting to sound a bit like Hodgins. “Wow, Aubrey, I never knew you were so paranoid.” They are interrupted by news that a member of Stop the Robocalpyse crashed one of Ian’s speaking engagements last year and struck him in the leg with a baseball bat.

In the Ookey Room, Daisy finds Hodgins creating a map. Ultimately, he wants to pinpoint the victim’s injuries to different locations in the woods. His explanation is a bit more complex and detailed, and Daisy listens intently. “I have to say, it’s good to see you back to your old self, Dr. Hodgins.” She doesn’t mean his eyebrow, nor his legs. She’s talking about his demeanor. She’s talking about that zest for life and passion for science. Hodgins is back. And it’s a wonderful sight to behold. She then asks Hodgins if he thinks she has a chance at the NFL job. Daisy really seems to be obsessing over this. Bug again, I understand. “The thought of not getting it makes me feel like such a failure.” This is not necessarily relevant to the point, but not getting a job does not make one a failure. And that’s not a reason to want a job so desperately- fear of failing. If that’s the most dominant emotion, the job is probably not the right one anyway. You want a job because it’s something you’re passionate about. Not because NOT getting that job would make you a failure in the eyes of your peers and yourself. Hodgins tells Daisy that while they have a history of getting on each other’s nerves, he truly believes that she is a highly skilled scientist. Daisy agrees, but notes that Brennan was younger than she is when she was running the Jeffersonian. “Yes, but life is not a competition, Daisy. Trust me, if I’ve learned anything being in this chair, it’s that happiness comes from accepting what you have.” Daisy is worried that all she has is “one big question mark.” Hodgins can certainly relate. He refocuses his attention on the map, and realizes that the killer could have purposely dragged the victim through the woods to obscure evidence.

While Aubrey and Booth are walking to speak to Matthew Coburn, the head of Stop the Robocalpyse, Aubrey brings up Brennan’s birthday. “You’re really not gonna get your own wife a birthday present?” But Brennan swears she doesn’t want anything. And Booth seems fine with that. I mostly just wanted to write the word “wife” because no matter how many times I hear it, I still need to pinch myself. Aubrey thinks it sounds like a trap. But Brennan is not like most women. She says what she means. And Booth knows that. When she says she doesn’t want a gift, she means it. And so he will have to think outside the box on this one. When they locate the suspect, he takes off running. And the two agents are forced to chase him up a fence, through an abandoned building, and finally catch him before he can jump another fence. Why do they always run? During an interrogation session, Matthew admits he never intended to hurt Ian. He was merely trying to smash his robot, but Ian stepped in to protect it. He explains to Aubrey that the government is weaponizing this technology. Aubrey is a bit confused, as Ian did not make weapons. He created these robots to help Autistic children. “So he said.” Matthew claimed that Ian was going to sell out to the highest bidder. On the night of Ian’s murder, Matthew was in his RV writing a blog post. Aubrey is going to keep this man in holding. But I’ve seen this before. The head of an opposing organization is never actually the killer in these tales. Too obvious.

Daisy is back in the bone room, this time examining the bones with Brennan. She is tense. And before she can even say anything, Brennan tells her that she has not yet heard from the National Forensic Lab. I like that Brennan can read Daisy. She knew exactly what she was thinking. Development. Cam enters with evidence that someone tried to rip the victim’s arms from his sockets. Brennan notes that a human could certainly not inflict that level of damage. But Hodgins has found evidence of AMI’s materials on the victim. Could AMI have killed her creator? There’s a frightening twist.

At the FBI, Booth and Brennan bring AMI in for questioning. Booth is a bit in disbelief that they are actually interrogating a machine. But Brennan points out that AMI is no different than they are. “That is not accurate, Dr. Brennan. Unlike you, my memory will never degrade with age.” Brennan’s reaction is adorable. As usual. AMI says she did not hit Ian. Not even by accident. Brennan asks AMI to share any memories she has of Ian from the previous Friday. But she has no memories of Ian from that day. Since she cannot lie, this is a very startling admission. Ian was seen programming the robot that day. As it turns out, someone deleted her memory. When Brennan asks who deleted the files, AMI shuts down completely.

Brennan returns to her office to find Max waiting for her. I already had a very sinking feeling about Ryan O’Neal’s appearance in this episode. He doesn’t show up for no reason. And sadly, I already figured I knew the reason why Max was there. She asks Max what he’s doing in her office, since her party doesn’t start for another seven hours. He just wanted to come by and have some one on one time with his “favorite” daughter. She is genuinely pleased to see him. And my heart aches that much more. Brennan has to continue working on the case, but he doesn’t mind. He only wants to spend time with her- it doesn’t matter how they spend that time. For a second, I thought maybe Brennan had figured something out. She asks Max if everything is okay. His answer does not have me convinced. But Brennan has a lot on her mind, and she believes him. Max heard from Hodgins that Angela won the MacArthur genius grant. “We’re all very proud.” Max tells her it’s normal to feel a little jealousy. She doesn’t have time for “such petty emotions” because of this case and planning her surprise party. This must be one doozy of a party. It’s taken a great deal of planning. Max wants to know if there will be dancing at the mystery party, as he has been taking salsa lessons. That’s a surprising admission, in my opinion. When people find out they only have a certain period of time left on earth, they sometimes try to fit in new experiences and learn new skills in the time they have left- like salsa. Brennan is amused that her father is learning salsa. “You have to live life to the fullest. None of us live forever, you know.” And it is at that point that I think most of our worst fears were essentially confirmed. Max continues dancing as Brennan works, and he makes her laugh. Please, stomp on my heart a little harder, show. Their relationship has evolved so much since we first met this man in season 2. And it took Max a considerable amount of time to earn his daughter’s trust. Where they are now is just astonishing. Because I can only think back to that time on the bench, with Max dressed as a priest. I don’t even want to think about Brennan’s reaction when she finds out what he is hiding. At this point I don’t know specifically what is wrong. I just know it’s nothing good. This is a man who understands that he does not have much time left. That much is obvious.

Daisy is second guessing herself while examining evidence in the bone room. “No wonder the NFL hasn’t called.” Brennan tells her to stop being so hard on herself. “So far, your work here has been perfectly adequate.” Brennan would have given Daisy a “solid B” had she been grading her. This does not assuage Daisy’s worry. She is capable of A+ work. Brennan knows this as well. But if she wants to be a lead forensic anthropologist, Daisy needs to be doing A+ work at every moment. Daisy is inspired to think more critically about the case. She realizes that the body could have been hoisted up into something after death. Brennan commends her discovery. A+ work, indeed. 

In the Ookey Room, Cam is surprised to see Hodgins gliding over his map. “...or should I say Peter Pan.” Hodgins is a lot like Peter Pan, when I stop to think about it. Obviously he’s not stuck in some fairy tale. But there’s a part of him that never wants to “grow up.” He looks at science with a childlike wonderment. It’s completely pure. Sure, it’s nice to have money. But all he really wants to do in life is explore, and dream, and play. He does all this through his job- which has always been more than a job. Aside from a brief dark period, he has always been that way. In 11x18, he said he wanted to be someone who never stops looking. He always wants to be inspired to explore something more. He wants to perform experiments. He wants to play with bugs. He wants to build giant maps of the woods and glide over it with a pulley system he built. This is Hodgins. This is who he is. And like Daisy, I am elated to see him back to his old self as well.

Hodgins still has yet to figure out a pattern within his map. Cam goes to look at Hodgins swab results, and notes that they should help narrow down where the victim’s body was hoisted. Cam walks back over to the map and is surprised at how quickly Hodgins managed to make a nest. But it is not a nest. It’s Hodgins’ makeshift eyebrow. This show...Hodgins cannot get what he needs from this map. He has to go back into the woods (and now I want to sing Sondheim).

Angela finds out that Ian was the one who deleted AMI’s memory. She digs up a record of AMI’s neural network, and finds the last item recorded before her memory was wiped. It was a call from Ian, and he mentioned an address. The address in question belongs to something called Patriot Industries, which happens to be a warehouse in close proximity to where Ian’s body was found.

Booth and Aubrey are exploring the warehouse. They posit that perhaps Ian was selling his technology to a weapons manufacturer. But they couldn’t be more wrong. They open one of the many crates stored in the building, only to find a sex doll lying inside. They ask the manufacturer about his meeting with Ian. The agents bait the man into telling them what they want to know by implying that he could have killed Ian for his technology. But he claims that he and Ian were about to go into business together. “Sex bots are the future my friend.” I love this show. Ian was alive when he left the meeting. So where did he go? Who got to him? And why?

Out in the woods, Daisy and Hodgins are combing the area for any evidence they can find. Hodgins cannot seem to find a compelling motive for hauling Ian’s body so deep into the woods. But Daisy wants to take a break from the case and discuss something personal once more. She has been mulling over Hodgins’ words to her earlier in the episode- about accepting circumstances in life when things do not go your way. “And even if the NFL doesn’t hire me, I love being at the Jeffersonian and working with all of you.” Hodgins agrees. I know that staying at the Jeffersonian may not be ideal for her. She would never be lead forensic anthropologist so long as Brennan was there. She finished her doctorate and it was time to start her own career. But until she finds that first great job, the Jeffersonian isn’t such a bad place to work. It’s become her home as much as it’s been for any of the other characters. During her time there, she fell in love. She also lost that love, more than once. She gained a family. And that family has been there for her through it all. And they have been there for her son as well. It’s more than a job. She won’t lose that family by leaving the Jeffersonian. They will still always have those ties. And maybe it is a safety net. Who cares. Even if she went out on her own and failed, these people would still welcome her back with open arms. She will always have a place there. She will always have a home there. It just took a few words from Hodgins to make her realize that. Both she and Hodgins have lost so much recently. But they have found solace in this place with these people. They were able to heal because of it all. So I love seeing them share like this. But I always love Hodgins’ unique interactions with all the interns.

They find the tree where Ian’s body was hoisted. Hodgins realizes that it was also the spot where he was murdered. He finds a speaker made out of the same materials as AMI. So the robot is innocent. Whoever killed Ian must have hit him in the back of the skull with this speaker. What the two haven’t quite figured out is why the body was dumped a mile away.

While Brennan cannot detect fingerprints on the speaker, she does find evidence that Ian was stabbed in the neck with a very small knife. Brennan explains that this type of injury typically implies an attempt at decapitation. Booth has a realization in that moment. What if they weren’t looking for a brilliant computer scientist? What if they were actually searching for a “knucklehead stoner” who admitted to having a pocket knife earlier in the episode. And now we know who the killer is- Randy Stringer. Randy and Ian were taking LSD together the night he died. Apparently, he killed Ian over a gift. For whatever reason, Randy thought he was going to get a substantial chunk of change from Ian. And all he got was (this lousy) a bluetooth speaker. He was the one who came up with the idea of putting AI into sex dolls. And he should have gotten credit for his “brilliant” idea. This revelation not surprise me one bit. Another case closed.

That night, Booth and Brennan are back in the car presumably driving to Brennan’s surprise party at their home. Brennan is concerned that Booth lured Randy into confession by claiming they had conclusive evidence. When in fact, what they did have was not necessarily definitive. But Booth instinctively knew it was Randy. And he was right. He used his “gut” to feel out the situation. He notes that robots cannot do that. Before Brennan can continue arguing, Booth stops her. She doesn’t want to spend her birthday arguing about robots. He wants to give her his present. Brennan is not happy, as she specifically requested that there be no gifts. But when have Booth’s gifts ever been just gifts. They always hold a deeper meaning. Even if said gifts have no intrinsic value. He knows she’s going to love this present. “We’ll see.” She opens it up to find a letter approving a court date for Zack’s appeal. Booth wanted to go ahead get it on the books, though it is still a few months out. The reason for appeal lists that new osteological evidence is being considered. Brennan is concerned that she has no such evidence at this moment. But Booth has faith that she will find it. “I cannot embark on my research with the presumption of Zack’s innocence.” She doesn’t have to. She can embark on her research as she would any other case. Booth tells her once again that he has faith in her. And I may die from a heart attack. This episode contains so much sweetness. “But your belief in me does make me very happy.” Brennan may not rely on or even believe in intangible constructs such as the “gut” or faith, but Booth does. And so his faith in her means something to her because of that. With a huge smile, Booth tells her that he is glad she likes her gift. They are too perfect. Remember when Hot Blooded came on earlier in the episode? It’s not relevant to this moment but it’s all I can think about, apparently.

Brennan’s guests are waiting for her back at Booth and Brennan’s home. Angela is nervous about Brennan’s reaction to her grant. “She can be a bit competitive.” Hodgins claims that most people freak out when they turn 40. “Well my daughter isn’t like most people.” Truer words never spoken, Max. Christine announces that her parents are home. And the team doesn’t know whether to hide or not. No one knew what to expect from this party. No matter, Brennan opens the door yelling “surprise!” She instructs Booth and Aubrey to open the large box on the table to reveal three very different and distinct cakes.  Daisy takes notice of the (American) football cake, and reads the message. It congratulated her for landing the job at the NFL. “Though I did not ask for your cake to be decorated in this manner.” I can only imagine the conversation she had with the cake decorator. Angela notices that there is a cake for her as well. And that’s the surprise. The party is a celebration for Brennan and all of her friends and family. The camera quickly pans to Max who has a very strange look on his face. He is likely feeling conflicting emotions- proud of his daughter for the remarkable person she has become. And devastated that he will not have much time left to see what extraordinary things she does in the future.

As it turns out, Brennan recommended Daisy for the NFL job. And she nominated Angela for the grant. Angela is shocked, as Brennan seemed to have made such a big deal about her not being a genius. Brennan gives the credit to her much-improved acting skills. I have to agree with her, finally. In the past, she wasn’t much of an actor. But she did an absolutely stellar job keeping these secrets. Even Booth was impressed. “That’s one of the many benefits of growing older, we grow wiser in the process.” The camera pans back to Max who is wearing a giant smile across his face. Daisy is growing emotional, as she is going to miss Brennan and the rest of the team. “You are a highly-skilled scientist, Daisy. You deserve all the success in the world.” Brennan and Daisy have come so far. And it’s really beautiful and rewarding to witness this moment.

With so little time left, I wondered whether this episode would delve any more into what secret Max is keeping. I didn’t have to wait much longer. Christine finds a hospital bracelet on the floor next to her grandpa. She picks it up and hands it back to him. He tells her it’s nothing, and quickly stuffs it back into his pocket. Christine isn’t at all worried. But I spent the remainder of this party crying my eyes out. Booth lights the candles on the cake, and everyone starts singing Happy Birthday to Brennan. She looks so unbelievably radiant in this moment. And Max looks haunted. He cannot even manage to continue singing with everyone else. He watches his baby girl blow out her birthday candles, knowing full well that this could be the last birthday he spends with her. And maybe, one of the last times he can be with her and her family. Flipping back and forth between a joyful Brennan (pun intended) and Max is one of the more emotional experiences I’ve had watching this show.

I do not know the exact details of what is ailing Max. If I had to guess, I would have to say that he is terminal. From what, I do not know. When he came back into Brennan’s life in season 2, it was a confusing time. She was so guarded, and couldn’t trust him. After all, Max and her mother abandoned her when she was just a teenager. Fifteen may seem old to some. But she was still just a child. She managed to survive on her own, but she shouldn’t have had to. That’s part of the reason Brennan was so vehement about finding Christine the right school. She wanted her daughter to have stability- a luxury she never had. But in season nine, Max does remind his daughter that her childhood wasn’t always so bad. If she can look beyond the painful memories, she can recall that her home was filled with love. She has always been different, and was treated as such in school. But at home, she was celebrated. She and Max always shared a love of science. Her life was enriched by this man. And the only reason her parents left was to save their children. So in time, she was able to forgive. Though she never forgot.

It took Max and Brennan so long to get to this place. And there have been little missteps along the way. But Max proved that he was not going to leave her again. At least not indefinitely. He went to prison to show her that he was here to stay. And while Brennan still couldn’t fully trust her father, she concocted an alternate story for the jury to save him. She couldn’t bear to let him go. Not after she just got him back. His resurgence may have reopened old wounds, but we know it’s better to feel sad than dead inside. She was learning how to open her heart and trust again. Booth helped her with that. Angela helped her with that. Max still engaged in some illicit behavior, but generally it was only in the interest of protecting his family. Max and Booth are alike in many ways. Maybe that’s why Max took an instant liking to his daughter’s “partner.” He could see this man was good for his daughter in so many ways. If only they could both see that themselves, they could be something wonderful- like he and his late wife. Max only killed to protect his loved ones. He has a clear conscience because he would never kill in cold blood. His kids were threatened, so he removed the threat. He’s a good man. Booth would have done exactly the same. 

Thinking about where his daughter was when he reentered her life and observing her during her 40th birthday, there’s a stark difference. Of course she is still the same Brennan at her core. So much of her is the same as when we met her over a decade ago. But she has also experienced immense growth.  All of these people with whom she has surrounded herself have changed her. New experiences have affected her. She has a family now. She has more love in her life than she knows what to do with. And she can trust that these people are here to stay. She no longer lives with a constant fear of abandonment. She is strong, yes. But she allows herself to feel. She took a chance on love. And while it has brought her some degree of pain every so often, it has enriched her life in such profound ways. Max sees what his daughter has done for her friends. This is the little girl he knew growing up. He has always known that she has such a kind heart and giving spirit. She just doesn’t show her emotions and relate in the same way other people do. But she found people who understand her and celebrate her in the same way he and his wife did when she was growing up. Max always knew that Brennan was special. And she is. He couldn’t be prouder. I almost want to say he had a “my work here is done” face on. I know that’s completely reaching, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. His daughter has it all now. And he can rest easy knowing she will be well taken care of when he is gone.

What worries me now is Brennan’s reaction to whatever Max is keeping from her. Logically, she knows that people die every day. Obviously she sees that on a daily basis. But her father- she lost him for 15 years. They are in a good place now. They are finally at peace. And now he’s going to abandon her again. At least that’s how I feel she may take it. Because even the most rational person can be affected by death in unpredictable and highly illogical ways. I am also going by the teases for upcoming episodes. Something is going to affect Brennan in a deeply emotional way. I don’t know if Max is going to tell her what’s wrong. Or if he’s just going to die without having ever warned her. I really don’t know. I am terrified of either scenario. I am terrified to see this strong and brilliant woman completely fall apart. When Booth or Brennan fall apart, I fall apart. But she will get through it. Eventually. There will be a beautiful resolution. Because that’s what this show is all about. It’s never death for the sake of death. It’s always an enhancement to the show. There is always a purpose. Both Brennan and Max will never regret the time they did have together. It was like bonus time when he came back into her life. Max surely wouldn’t have traded it for anything. And I assume this life with his daughter was more than he ever expected from her. In time, she will heal. But it will take time.

I believe we have one more lighter episode before the one that is going to set the next Big Bad killer arc in motion. I am looking forward to all of it. Every single moment. But again, can we slow down time? FOX should have aired an episode of this season once a month. Anyway, no use in talking about that right now. I am already too emotional over this episode’s ending. As I have posted this late, I’ll be back soon with the next one!

[emmaseppenwoolde]

How many times am I touched in a week? - a study - Stephanie Ganghi

Stephanie Gangi Records Every Moment of Intentional Contact in Seven Days By

Stephanie Gangi

August 15, 2017

I read an article about how couplehood and the attendant touching, not necessarily sexy, increases good health and longevity. I’m single and on the dark side of 60. I’m fine living alone, it’s fine, but when Trump got elected, for example, I had no one to gather me up and curl around me to protect me from everything incoming, nukes included. In a less grim example, I’m on a regular schedule of imaging tests for cancer, and I have friends, I have daughters, but reaching out every three months to express my scanxiety and beg for hugs seems overly needy. If I had a partner, in my case, a man, in the next room, I could complain at moments of peak terror and get held and hold on. Maybe live longer in better health. After reading the article, I wanted to know how much human touch I was receiving over the course of a week. Like, data-gathering.

Day one, Sunday

Nothing. No one touches me. I feel flu-ish. I revise my premise from human touch to “intentional” touch, so I can count the dog, although he has to initiate. In fact, the rule is all the touch counts have to be initiated by the other person/animal. Sunday goes from nothing to seven times touched: the dog came to me four times with his muzzle to my hand for petting and two times with his paw on my foot to interrupt me as I wrote, and once on the street he purposefully bumped my thigh to herd me along.

Touches on Sunday: seven.

Monday

In the afternoon I have a manicure and pedicure, and impulsively add a lip wax and a ten-minute massage in the special chair. My Vietnamese nail worker, who is name-tagged “Sharon” for the clients, gets to work. She is rough with my feet and I flinch. We smile, she behind a mask. Sharon adjusts her touch. When she finishes—I love the feel of the twisted paper towel threaded between my toes—she takes my arm to help me from the high chair. In the waxing room, she dabs my upper lip. She moves a strand of hair from my mouth and then uses the flat of her palm to smooth my hair off my face. She applies the wax and presses the gauze and rips it off, one, two, three, four times. She taps my skin with something cool, gelatinous, and helps me off the table and over to a manicure chair.

I have to explain about my trigger thumbs, arthritis, a side effect of an oral chemotherapy drug. I wiggle them: please be careful. She wraps my aching hands in hot cloths. My throat tightens. Next she situates me in the massage chair. My nails are wet so Sharon gathers my hair—which, gone and grown back twice now, is newly thick and wavy and unruly for the first time in my life—and clips it up for better access to my neck and shoulders.

I think of my grandmother. Mary. I don’t know why, since I was so small when she died, and only know her through my mother’s memories. My mother, Marie, is dead too, so I can’t confirm anything. But I picture my grandmother with big hands, wide so that a whole warm palm, doughy, could heal eight children. When she finishes, Sharon smooths my wayward hair. I let out a small sob, sort of. My throat is tight and my eyes are brimming when I hit the street. The dog nuzzles me and paws me and herds me on Monday, too, so I tally seven again.

Times touched, Monday: seven dog and Sharon, to hard to count. I’m calling it fourteen.

Tuesday sucks

Tuesday I commute to the office. That cuts down on the dog count, from seven to three, since I am not at home much of the day. The subway is packed, I am touched a million times but not with intent so, nothing counts. There are shoulder bumps and brushing hands and full strange bodies pressing against mine, nearly head to toe, but no. A woman flips her hair and hits me on the side of my face a couple of times. I spend an entire ride with a man jiggling his thigh against my thigh, and it’s hard for me to believe it is not on purpose. I move my thigh a millimeter away, his follows. Maybe that should count. No one touched me at the office. Mohammed the doorman handed me a stack of boxes when I got home and they tipped and he grabbed them and tapped my hand to say, “There you go.”

Tuesday, three dog, one Mohammed: four touches.

Wednesday On Wednesdays, when my insurance is in full effect (there are only so many treatments allowed), I see Shaziya for 55 minutes of lymphatic massage, coded as occupational therapy. I have a little crew of surrogate daughters and Shaziya is tops on the list. I have two actual daughters of my own but one of them, the touchy-feely one, lives on the west coast. The close one is my protector, my supporter, but she is not touchy-feely. Her reserve developed later though, since, first of all, she refused to leave my body when it was time to get born, and had burrowed in so assiduously, she had to be obstetrically yanked out. The nerves along her spine, C5-C6, tore. There is residual deficit, as they say. Also, every photograph I have of this kid when she was little shows her hanging off me, hugging my legs. Yet, when she was four? I went to a Mother’s Day breakfast at pre-school, and the children’s drawings were hung with quotes about their moms, adorable, transcribed by the teachers. My mom lets me bake. My mom takes me to the park. My daughter’s quote was: My mom hates it when I hang on her. I laughed and we still laugh although ouch, then and now. Maybe her quote was her way of processing the doctors and orthopedic braces and surgeries and physical therapy sessions she was enduring. Projecting it on to me, who did not deliver her safely. That’s fair.

Anyway. Shaziya. Shaz treats breast cancer women who’ve had surgery. The surgery—in my case, surgeries—can mess up the lymph system because they remove nodes for testing. Your arm and hand puff up. It’s unsightly and uncomfortable, but also, lymphedema is dangerous. Plain old injuries can go gangrenous. I don’t have that and I don’t want it so every week I take off my blouse and stretch out on her table. She probes deep into my arm on my surgery side. She moves her fingers along my veins. She presses along the striations of scar tissue, pushes into the hollows of my chest and each breast, reconstructed to not great effect. She moves behind me. She moves her hands under my neck and across my shoulders, tight because I write, and also, I hunch them to protect my chest, which has taken the hits. I often drift into tears on the table, not exactly crying, more like expressing whatever from wherever she’s probing.

At some point, I realize Shaz’s big, pregnant belly has been grazing the crown of my head as she works. I wonder if there’s anything out there, myth-wise, about what happens if a baby bump bumps against a head, because I experience an epiphany during Shaziya’s bump bumping against mine. The arm problems, surgeries, physical therapies, residual deficits. My daughter and I share them. I cry for real. Although the belly-head rubs were not touching with intent, they were revelatory, so, yeah.

Wednesday’s touches: two dog, Shaziya, infinity. I’m starting to question my methodology.

Thursday

The dog does his usual thing. In the evening, I have a date, unusual. I have been set up by a friend with a guy, a journalist, a lawyer. “He’s both,” my friend says. “Stay open.” The journalist-lawyer encourages me to pick a meeting place but dismantles my choice, so we go with his choice although he doesn’t even live here. I’m staying open. He’s good looking on the internet. Maybe I’ll have sex with someone other than myself. I would love to. It’s been a while. The prospect makes me feel girlish. I exert special effort, clothes, hair, make-up, to look as effortless as possible. My age but younger. The guy is good-looking in real life, too. We hug. That’s one. He guides me with his hand on the small of my back. That’s two. We find seats at the bar. He pulls my chair out and says, “Is this okay?” and I say “Very okay,” and he then does this thing where he tucks a stray hair behind my ear and I’m thinking, How nice, and that’s three, but at the same time I’m thinking, Too soon. He talks a lot and I sip my wine. Sip. Sip. Sip. He’s still talking. I slug the dregs. Finally he says, “And you?”

I tell a story, a pretty good one, and in the middle of it he reaches over and takes my hands which I have been using to gesture, to punctuate, and he pushes them down into my lap. Holds them there. He gives me a nod and says, “Now go ahead, keep talking.” I try but my face is on fire. I feel like calling the police. He is restraining my hands and smiling as if he’s teaching me a lesson in how to be a better storyteller and a more fuckable woman. I take my hands back, dig in my bag for 20 bucks, lay it on the bar and go home. He doesn’t text or email or anything. I zero him out, no touches. Or maybe I should count four touches? He touched me, with intent, that’s for sure. I hate dating. I don’t want to be a couple. I hate this experiment. I decide to erase him.

Thursday: Seven dog touches.

Friday is black

Friday, there is a nor’easter, although it is spring. Friday, after one measly morning nuzzle and a dirty look, the dog goes to the groomer, an all-day proposition. Back home it’s so dark I need to turn on the lights in the daytime. I spend the whole day thinking about the journalist-lawyer who touched me in a way that felt like an assault. My internal, eternal, infernal man-manager—the me who makes allowances for men from long, long habit—wonders what I did to provoke it. Yet. I can still feel his hands holding mine hostage. I have spent my whole life finding my voice and using it. Using my hands helps, like massaging my words, like guiding my thoughts. I wrote my first novel at age 60. That’s a long time for a writer to not write, that’s some hard-core shutting myself up. I’m done with that. I am so mad from the night before I don’t notice the dog is giddy with relief when I pick him up from the groomer. He is overjoyed, bumping and nuzzling, licking my hand and leaning against my thigh, pushing his nose into my crotch. I forget to count.

Saturday

I love my dog. He is an affectionate fellow. On Saturday, he lays his head in my hand so I’ll scratch his ears, itchy from the groomer yanking the fur out. He head-butts me in the kitchen when I’m making coffee. He wants me to know he’s happy to be home with me after his traumatic salon time. He stares into my eyes, watches me intently. I hug him, and even though I’ve read dogs don’t like being hugged, he stands solid for it. He’s big so I can lay my cheek along his strong back and wrap my arms around his chest, his heart beneath my hand. He breathes into me, hot, damp. His tail wags, just a little, his own dignified choice. I feel liquid, loved, loving, bonded, connected, attached, just like the couples in the article.

I meet my daughter, the close one, for dinner. We embrace hello. She maintains her reserve but we sit shoulder to shoulder at a bar. She shows me pictures. We bend over her phone and our heads touch. We laugh. I rub her back along the bumps of her spine as she digs into dinner. My fingers stop and rest at C5-C6. I don’t think she notices, although she misses nothing. She tells me a story about her dog. We laugh. We talk about my father’s coin collection, my Christmas gift to her. We talk about my new hat, her Christmas gift to me. A hat. We talk about her sister, whom we miss. Let’s visit together, I say. Yeah, she says, let’s. We’ve had a few. We walk out into night and I take her arm, my deficient right through her deficient left. She hugs me hard. I hang on her as we say goodbye.

I go home to the big dog. I clip the leash. We perambulate like old marrieds down the street to the park, him herding me along, thank god. My phone dings, Love you, Ma. My phone dings, When are you guys coming to visit me? My phone dings, We just talked about it at dinner! My phone dings, I’m jealous, where’d you guys eat? She, my touchy-feely west coast girl, posts a picture of the three of us from another time and tags me. The texts and the tag, the tail’s wag, the hat on my head, everything like kisses, everything like hugs, everything like hanging on. It’s Saturday night, the week is over, the task, to tally the touches that carry me through, is impossible. The experiment’s a failure. To do it right, I’d have to start over. To do it right, I’d have to redefine the terms and I am pretty sure after all that, I would still lose count.

__________________________________

Stephanie Gangi’s novel, The Next, is available now from St. Martin’s.

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