#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.

[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.

[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.

[trendingnewsb]

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Ahhhh…. Nap Time!

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This Australian Cattle Dog Puppy Is Perfectly Camouflaged!

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Our Puppies First Snow Day

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Waiting To Surprise My SO With This Little Nugget When She Gets Home From Work

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Ball? Stick? Belly Rubs?! What A Day

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I’ll Never Get Tired Of Walking These

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Blizzard Boys

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Had The Best Passenger On The Ride Home Yesterday

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First Day With My Pupper. Meet Skye, The Mini Aussie!

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This Looks Like A Good Spot To Rest My Eyes

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So Cute, I Wanna Cuddle

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Woohoo! Road Trip With Mom And Dad And He’s Letting Me Drive

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Two Marbles

It Was My Pups Second Birthday The Other Day. He Wasn’t Thrilled With All The Pictures

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When You Try To Take Cute Pics Of Your Dog But He’s Not Having It

Before And After Finding Out He’s A Good Boy

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I Think I Have A New Favourite Picture Of My Dog: Bolt! It’s Just So Majestic

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Beauty Shot!

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Yeah, You Know You’re Cute

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Thinking About Life And How I Have No Friends…

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Nap Time

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When Mom Says ‘Hug Your Brother’ But You Look Really Awkward While Doing It

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Veterans Day Hug

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Yogi Practicing Together With Her Dog

I Adopted! Ember, The Mini Aussie

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Even A Year Later, She’s Got The Same Smile!

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How My Dog Waits For Me In The Bathroom

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Meet Pepper, The Cutest Toy Australian Shepard Ever

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After Beach And After Bath

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How Fast Can An Aussie Become A Swamp Monster?

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Puppy Time!! Meet My 7 Week Old Mini Australian Shepherd, Oakley

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Everyone, Meet Tucker

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Privacy? What Is That?

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Survived The First Night Together

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The Many Faces Of Goose

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Just Trying To Cover Myself In Dirt Before My Bath

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Gimme Dat

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Aussie Shepard Is Excited To Come To His New Home

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Finally Got To Bring Home My New Aussie Pup

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We Found Some Kitties Emerging From Under The Shed During A Tornado Warning. Our Five Month Old Aussie Seems To Have Adopted Them. I Give You Abby And The Catbabies

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16 Years Old And Still Knows How To Work The Cuteness, Especially When He Wants Something

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Google-Eyed Phase

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The Fluff

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Where’s The Water?

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Who Stole The Cookies From The Cookie Jar?

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No, I Have Not Seen Your Other Sock. Why?

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Caught With Her Hand In The Cookie Jar

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Sometimes Walking Is Hard, But I’m Always Happy When Mom Carries Me The Rest Of The Way

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The Snow Is All Gone And It’s Back To Looking Like Fall Again

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They Grow Up So Fast

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