#Chihuahuas often have their boundaries over

[chicohungers24-7]

Late Night Nine Doodle

[vanderlesbian]

husband price + ghost hcs

literally just got into cod and i immediately fell so hard for price and ghost erm.......so enjoy some hcs! if they're slightly ooc i apologize...i'm still really new to their characters

gn reader! no warnings <3

**i use [spouse] so you can insert your preferred term :) husband/wife/spouse/etc

captain john price

- being married to a captain means a lot of nights where price doesn't come home until well after midnight from the amount of work that gets thrown onto him. you try your best to stay up those nights, waiting for his return so you can make him something quick to eat before cleaning him up for bed. though, a lot of the times you get too tired, and price will walk in to see you passed out on the couch. you always wake up in your bed with your husband's arms around your waist and his face buried in your neck.

- because price is always away from home for long periods of time, when he comes back expect to not lift a finger to do anything. he'll feel bad for having you manage the home alone for such long periods of time, so when he is at home he'll do everything for you. cook, clean, run errands—everything. though, sometimes you insist that you help him, saying that it's no fair that he comes home from work just to work some more at home. you find it more enjoyable when the two of you do chores together, anyways.

- he was so outwardly confident with proposing to you, but i know for a fact that he was like a shaking chihuahua on the inside. i definitely think you would date him for quite a long time before finally deciding to get married, so when price takes you to a spot you guys haven't visited since the beginning of your relationship to propose to you, your heart melts realizing that he remembered something from so long ago.

- your wedding was small and simple, with only close friends and family attending. price had more guests with all of the people he knows from work, but you've grown to like them all as much as he does. you have plenty of photos of the 141 boys drunk during the reception, and maybe a few pictures of a drunk, dancing price that he only lets you see out of embarrassment.

- speaking of the 141 boys, they'll often be at your place to watch football or to simply just hang out. you don't mind it in the slightest; they're all very kind to you. gaz is very formal with you because you're his captain's spouse, and you've told him multiple times that it's okay for him to use your first name rather than mr/mrs. price. the others are very casual with you, but know not to cross any boundaries with price watching. of course, i don't think they would do that to begin with, but regardless price is very protective of you.

- you will definitely nag him about his smoking habits. even if you find it attractive, you know it's not good for him. price and laswell will bond over the fact that their spouses hate it.

- price will ignore others to give you his undivided attention. soap would be blowing up his phone with text messages, hearing it buzz in the back pocket of his pants as he has you against the kitchen counter with his hands on your hips and his lips on yours. "john, it sounds important-" "it can wait." he'll mutter in that attractively low voice of his as he swiftly pulls the phone from his pocket and tosses it elsewhere before immediately pulling you back into another kiss.

- breakfast would be your time to catch up with one another. the most peaceful time of day, the both of you are always up early and sitting at the dining table with a hot cup of tea. he loves asking you about any new happenings that he missed while he was gone, and will watch with a soft smile as you enthusiastically tell him about it. you then do the same with him as he tells you about work, and you can always see his body relaxing as he speaks to you. after breakfast, he likes to invite you on his morning walks where you'll continue your conversations.

- i do think price would want kids; maybe one or two. while his job takes him away from home a lot, he'll always make time for his family, even if that means taking time off. he makes sure not to miss any important dates, and if it can't be helped, he'll make sure to spend time with you guys afterwards. seeing the way price smiles and laughs with your kids is something that you will cherish forever.

simon "ghost" riley

- ghost didn't see himself getting married until he met you. even then he was very hesitant for a long time, but as the two of you deepened your relationship, he realized that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

- ghost would need a lot of reassurance not only as a boyfriend, but also as a husband. he does not know how to be a husband in the slightest. he thinks he has to know how to do everything automatically, so you often have to reassure him that you're just as new to this as he is.

- being married to you, ghost trusts you more than anyone on the planet. you're the only one who can lift that mask from his face with your own hands, and he lets you trace your fingers along his scars. it took a long time to get to this point; you didn't judge ghost for not being very touchy while you were dating because you were aware of his circumstances. he also showed his love in other ways, mostly with gifts and acts of service. though, after getting married, ghost made it a point to be more physically affectionate with you. now, he loves resting his head in the crook of your neck and holding you tight and close, especially after a long day or mission.

- he isn't into making things very public, so his proposal was very private and probably took place at home, but made sure to make things as romantic as they can be in simon riley's world. your wedding would also be very small and probably in the backyard, but it would still be cute and magical. you've never seen ghost so full of life until your wedding day.

- he doesn't like to burden you with his work. before he leaves for a mission, he'll make sure everything at home is ready for you. fridge is stocked, clothes are washed, the toilet you've been bothering him about is fixed—he doesn't want you to worry about anything while he's gone. even when he's away from home, he'll text you a simple "you alright?" to check in on you.

- after you got together with ghost, you became his mask maker. when his mask gets torn or stained, you either fix it for him or make him a new one. at this point, you could paint a perfect skull with your eyes closed. when soap teases ghost about the mask, he'll tell him that you made it, which then makes soap feel guilty LOL. "why do you keep that mask on anyway? you scared?" "[spouse] made it."

- oh he is so cold and scary on the battlefield, but the moment he has time to himself and turns on his phone to see a message from you saying "i miss you :(" his entire world explodes. nobody could tell, but he wants nothing more but to be with you when he's away. in all those times he's spacing out while with the other 141 members, he's most likely thinking about you.

- i don't think ghost would want kids, but if you express that you do, he'll reconsider. he would just be scared that he wouldn't make a good dad, but if you do have kids, it's quickly shown otherwise. he definitely treats kids like tiny adults, but he's never harsh with them. imagine his large, scary figure sitting himself in a kindergarten sized chair after your kid pleaded for him to come in for career day.

- what ghost will want though is a dog. if you decide not to have kids, a dog will be your baby. a big ol german shepherd or a rottweiler, you guys will spoil that dog like it's royalty. you think it's cute to watch ghost kneel down to pet the dog, and sometimes you'll find them together taking a nap. you like to tease that he loves the dog more than you.

[doberbutts]

https://www.facebook.com/paw.man.3/videos/10204941441244710

Quite some time ago I referenced how primitive breeds often are very boundary dogs, often will be more willing to both draw and enforce boundaries, but also often are very good at resolving dog/dog conflict and tend to be very skilled with dog body language and overall are very “doggy” compared to modern breeds.

Here are two caucasian sheperds displaying exactly this, actually this video I had in mind when writing that paragraph. To be very clear: if my dogs did something to this extent, I would personally have separated them. This owner clearly either knows his dogs very well or trusts that they will not actually fight.

However I would say that while it’s never to this extent, I see echoes of this in the chihuahuas. Fae is a major resource guarder when it comes to food and chews [mostly ritualized], and Tater is a thief. Yet Tater usually ends up with Fae’s stuff, and Fae will back off and show avoidant and calming body language once Tater penetrates through Fae’s bluster. Tater will often do the same thing, approaching slightly off to the side, not actually meeting Fae’s gaze, and “under” Fae’s level typically crawling against the floor. Tater usually also has a fairly dramatic curve away from Fae with her body, presenting her butt towards the teeth first. But Fae will suddenly stop growling, drop what she has, and walk away allowing Tater to have her prize. She’ll then typically shake it off and disengage completely, or she’ll wait just off to the side for Tater to get bored while sniffing the ground, stretching, or scratching her ears/neck.

To my knowledge, Tater has never actually attacked Fae over anything, nor has Fae done the same. Fae does not try to take Tater’s things the way she does with the big dogs. And Tater is an equal opportunity thief that tries it with everyone, but the only dog she went after for stealing her things was Evander and that was because he snapped at her first.

(she also won that argument but w/e sure pick a fight with the dog literally three times your size and win I guess, Evander learned “fuck around and find out” normally comes with not liking the “find out” part that day)

It’s something I witness every now and again and it fascinates me. The entire conversations in dog that these two have with each other compared to my modernized swissy and dobe, who seem almost illiterate in comparison. Those two will have short, one-word conversations like “ow hurts” “oops sorry” and “FRIEND OR FOE” “friend?” “FRIEND! Play???” “play!!!!”

A similar video would have been when Fae was grouchy from spending all day at the vet and Tater wanted to play. There was an extended amount of “I would very much like you to play with me” “I love you but I do not want any of this right now” “pleeeeeeeeeease” “noooooooooooo” and yet despite the full mouth snarls and growls coming from Fae, the eventual choice was Fae choosing to de-escalate and go into grooming and appeasement until I separated Tater from her to give her some relief.

IDK. Just something I’ve noticed. Primitive breeds being more willing to “talk out” their conflicts and modern breeds being more willing to get the fight underway. It does make sense, many of these primitive breeds- CAS and chihuahuas included- are intended to work in a small but loose pack structure and infighting is a great way to die from infection due to wounds or starvation because too many of the pack has killed each other to be able to hunt. Not to say they don’t ever, just that I see many being more willing to try “talking about it” before they decided to fight about it instead.

[luckytrine]

people need to be responsible about their dogs and recognize that proper training and socializing leads to the best quality of life for everyone involved, but I also believe that there needs to be more understanding for the way dogs are literally predators. There is a difference between an unsocialized, unstable animal and an animal that is rightfully exerting it’s boundaries. I hate seeing the trust with a dog break because an owner couldn’t or wouldn’t meet the dog on its own terms. A lot of the time I see it with people who seem to truly believe the “dogs are loyal & obedient” concept instead of “these are apex predators that decided to kick it along side us humans”. A dog bite can be traumatic- I was bit by a dog as a child, I am very aware- but I loathe this concept that a dog biting someone is often an immediate ‘strike three’ for the animal. Once a dog has bitten someone, the emphasis becomes “this animal hurt a human” and not “this animal acted like an animal”. I have a reactive/aggressive pit bull, and if there is one thing I’ve really digested being in charge of her is that she truly just as emotionally intelligent and smart as any other dog I have ever met. She has boundaries, and reacts like any autonomous being would when her boundaries are violated, and with her breed brings its own can of worms to that. I think for a lot of people, they see what than can do with “more friendly breeds” and judge “aggressive breeds” based on that difference. One thing I see often is bite strength- obviously a pit bull or Akita biting someone will do much more damage than a chihuahua- but I suppose I’ve just realized how much we feel entitled to a dog not biting us? It always feels like there’s this assumption of entitlement how much you can exert your will over a dog, and say if they don’t appreciate strangers petting them- that’s the dogs problem? Like, do you see what I’m gesturing at here? Like? Again, socialization and training are like, required, & it is your responsibility as an owner to do everything in your power to prevent situations where your dog could bring harm onto others or itself, but I will argue we often label things as “behavioral issues” when it’s really the predator we brought into our homes aren’t acting perfectly in line with our expectations. Like, I have to be vigilant with my dog- i do everything i can to make sure that the harm she is very capable of does not happen- but this vigilance has made me realize how much other dogs are consistently disrespected. I don’t ever look at an untrained small dog and wish I could have a dog as ‘easy’ as that, and instead I just think about how much that dog is considered ‘good/safe’ for putting up with humans entitlement. Like… I think about “treating every unknown dog with the possibility is could be dangerous” is actually a good starting off point, but I think an even better approach is “treating every dog, known and unknown, as an autonomous being you need to respect.”

[tf2-hellhole]

can we get some fluffy tf2 headcannons? giving you full creative liberty over this one! :)

Idk if you meant tf2 x reader headcanons or just general head canons, so I did two sections for each merc; the first point is a general headcanon, the second is X Reader.

sorry this took forEEEEEEEEVER, I was just experiencing burnout and working on a prize for a contest on my server (BTW WE HAVE A NEW DRAWING CONTEST GO CHECK IT OUT)

Scout:

Scout is actually really self-concious about his intelligence. He’s not very bright and he knows it, and it makes him feel horrible. He had flunked out of high school and struggled in most of his core classes. He honestly feels really stupid and he hates when people point it out. But luckily for him, a lot of the other mercs understand what it’s like to be looked down upon and empathize with him. Quite a few of them help him relearn the skills he never mastered in school. Engie helps him with math, Spy sometimes helps him with writing, and even Pyro has him read children’s books to them to improve his reading.

Scout absolutely loves little casual dates. Stuff like going out to eat lunch, going to the movies, maybe just cuddling up in his quarters and watching a movie. He tries to plan one every week. His dream date is taking you back to Boston to meet his family and go to a Red Sox game. But obviously, since you’re both in New Mexico at the time, he’s going to have to shelve that dream for a few years.

Soldier:

Soldier is an excellent raccoon dad. At first, the other mercenaries thought they’d all end up dead by the end of the month when he first found them. But surprisingly, they are are very well cared for. They’re all fed regularly and basically have his entire assigned quarters to themselves. He loves every single one of them dearly, even the ones that hiss and scratch him every time. The raccoons, at least some of them, are kind of like weird, quiet dogs, and actually get along pretty well with most of the other mercenaries.

Soldier is a surprisingly very physically affectionate partner, and he’s not at all opposed to PDA. He loves hand holding, cheek kisses, cuddles, the whole nine yards. Whenever he’s particularly excited, he loves to run up to you, scoop you up into his arms, and press a hard, sloppy kiss to your lips. Of course, he’s careful to not hurt you, but he’s a very intense, emotional guy and he needs to express all that love he has for you!

Pyro:

Pyro is and excellent listener, so they’re a person a lot of the other mercenaries depend on to vent. Demo often comes to them to vent about his emotions, Scout, Sniper, or Medic will rant about what’s bothering them, and even Engineer will talk about his stress. And of course, Pyro doesn’t understand a lot of what is told to them, but they’re still happy to help them feel a little better, and they would happily do it a hundred times over to make their friends feel better.

Pyro has a hobby of baking and making candy/treats, and they love sharing everything they make with you. When they first gave you a treat, you honestly thought it’d be burnt or bad in some other way. But to your surprise, it was amazing! They’re actually and excellent cook, but they just love making sweet things the best. They’ll make you just about anything you could ask for without hesitation, but they’re best at making anything sweet.

Demo:

Demo obviously has the potential to pretty emotional when he’s drunk, there’s no doubt about that. But on the off-chance that he’s sober, he’s actually pretty sweet and considerate. Though he still is a rough-housing joker, he’s much more considerate of his friends’ feelings and has deeper and more meaningful conversations with them. He often likes to go to bars with his friends and co-workers on ceasefire weekends, having lots of fun conversation, drinking together, and generally causing chaos around town.

Demo, to put it simply, doesn’t like himself. He’s critical of everything, from his skills to race, because people have always put him down about them. His mother told him he’s lazy and unskilled too many times to count, just everyone makes fun of his eye, and many have made fun of his skin color. But you make him feel so much better about himself. Just the fact that someone so kind and gorgeous is actually with him makes him feel like he’s not as horrible as he thought. There’s been a couple of times where you’ve accidentally almost brought him to tears with a sweet compliment or show of affection, because he never thought in a million years that someone would love him and care for him like you do. He feels so blessed that he has someone like you.

Heavy:

I know the fandom’s decided that Engie is the Team Mom and makes the food, but I also think that Heavy cooks a lot too. He makes all of his own food, so he often makes a lot of extras to feed the team because a lot of them just eat junk food and Medic’s always complaining about their eating habits. Heavy often takes like half the food for himself (he does have a huge appetite and loves food, so he likes to take a lot) and just boxes up the leftover portions and leaves them in the fridge for the team to take. He says he’s only doing it because they can’t work properly if they’re unhealthy, but he also does it because he cares about their health. A little bit.

At first, you wouldn’t think Heavy’s the most cuddly guy. But surprise, he actually loves giving and receiving physical affection. He just doesn’t show it often out of respect for your boundaries, and doesn’t do it around others. His absolute favorite thing is to cuddle you against his chest. Sometimes it’s when going to sleep, or cuddling on the couch, or maybe just a quick hug. He just loves the feeling of your head resting against his chest and your arms trying (and failing) to wrap around his torso. It makes him feel like you’re safe. Nobody could ever get you when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

Engie:

You’d think Sniper’s the only nature nerd on the team, but Engie absolutely loves the outdoors, as well as animals. It’s because his father would often take him out camping every couple of months. It was often the only time he would get 1-on-1 time with his usually very busy father. So he does love the great outdoors, especially that of his home state. He especially loves animals. He was raised on a farm and helped take care of lots of injured wild animals with his mother. He absolutely loves pets and would like to have many when he retires. His dream is to have is own ranch, with horses and cows and a bunch of dogs and the whole shebang.

Engie absolutely loves playing the guitar, so of course he loves playing for you. He learns all sorts of sweet love songs to sing to you. He’s an excellent player and actually has a pretty decent singing voice (think Johnny Cash, he kinda has that singing style). I hope you like country music, because that’s all he’s going to sing to you until you give him some requests or he finds out your favorite artists or genres. You can tell how happy he is every time he gets to surprise you with a new song he learned, and he’d be a giddy, laughing mess if you sang along with him.

Medic:

You’d think this guy takes horrible care of his birds because of the environment he keeps them in, but his birds are actually exceptionally well cared for. He buys them only the best and most expensive bird food, gives them super high-quality water with vitamins n stuff in it, takes them to the vet regularly, the whole shebang. Yeah they get a little dirty from sitting around in his lab, but he always gives them a little bath at the end of the day to get all the blood and guts off.

Medic is honestly such a playful partner. Of course, around his co-workers he’s a little more professional; he still gives you soft touches, a kiss on the cheek, or a big smile, but that’s about it. In private, however, he’s such a sweetheart. He’s always sweeping you up into big hugs, kissing all over your face, and calling you all sorts of adorable nicknames in a variety of languages. It comes as a surprise, because you’d think he’d be a little more formal, but that’s really only for special occasions. It honestly brings him so much joy to have someone like you by his side, and every day he’s going to make sure you know just how grateful he is to have you in his life.

Sniper:

Sniper is an incredibly independent and self-sufficient man, but he’s also secretly a real mama’s boy. He loves his parents dearly and has a particularly close relationship with his mother. As well as sending them money every month, he sends them all sorts of gifts, letters, postcards, and souvenirs. He also makes sure to call them regularly. He goes home every couple of months to visit them, and one could see that he loves helping around the house and chatting with his parents. His mother loved gardening, so his number-1 favorite thing to do is help her in the garden.

Despite Sniper’s obvious lack of knowledge on self-care, he takes a lot of time out of his day to make sure you are happy, healthy, clean, and well-fed. He doesn’t hound you like a helicopter parent but he likes to ask how you’re feeling, if you’re hungry, stuff like that. It feels nice to know you’re taken care of or take care of you himself. If you switch it around and try to take care of him, however, he’s honestly baffled as to why you would care so much as to make sure he’s doing well. He does absolutely love the affection and attention he gets out of it though, it makes him feel loved.

Spy:

I’ve mentioned this before, but I have a head canon that Spy has a dog. Her name is Charlotte, and she’s an elderly Chihuahua. One would think he’d buy a French breed, but he found her out in the pouring rain one day and fell in love with her fluffy ears and spunky personality. She’s now 17 years old, extremely frail, missing most of her teeth, and extremely aggressive to anyone other than Spy, but he loves her dearly and pays for all of her medical expenses without batting an eye. And of course, she expresses her thanks with lots of kisses.

Spy loves dancing, and knows all kinds of dances, from flamenco to ballroom dancing to the Charleston to, canonically, disco. So of course, he’s dying to share all of the most romantic dances he knows with you. He’d love to actually teach you how to dance, rewarding you with kisses every time you finally get a move right and laughing softly when you make mistakes. But in reality, he just wants to use it as an excuse to dance with you against his chest and smother you in affection.

[fishmongeringstudies]

six: wandering the city while waiting for a train that'll never come, you stop to wave at a dog on the street only to realize you have mistaken a crumpled bag of mcdonald's for a chihuahua

i almost slipped and died in the shower today. luckily i didn't, because i read somewhere that slipping and dying in the shower makes it a little hard for you to finish writing a manuscript for a novel fictionalizing the events of your freshman spring semester that's definitely going to become a new york times bestseller in about four years' time, but i came pretty close. for a moment i had my hand on the wall and my legs splayed like a barbie doll stuck to a stripper pole and the matchbox world behind the shower curtain was slipping steadily south and heading lower still. and then i caught myself.

several minutes later i heard scuffling beyond the pale, soapy shower curtain and thought there might be someone creeping on me. if someone was creeping on me i had an idea of who it might be, which made the prospect all the more likely and infinitely more convincing inside the grapefruit-sized thing i called my brain. then i heard the clap of god's hands in an ashen sky, and i knew. this was no man made disaster-in-waiting. it had begun to rain.

it didn't rain for long. five minutes at best, two if my grasp on the spatial-temporal continuum is worse than i'd imagined (this is very likely; the stars pass me by faster than i can count them these days), but long enough that anyone who happened to be outside when that first teardrop fell from the sky got a little wet. a little fucked up, if you will, which, hey. good for him. he deserves to get a little fucked up.

but i get carried away. please excuse my personal grievances. this is not a lament, it is a swimming pool. full of tiny colorful fish which flit around at its bottom, chasing strands of sunlight like children on a playground.

the weather forecast says it'll rain again tomorrow, and maybe the day after, too, if the world stays sad enough to let it happen. it makes me nostalgic. when i left in february monsoon season was in full swing, tearing trees from their roots with big meaty hands and making every fleeting boring moment into the kind of gray sunday afternoon on which i imagine the directors of romantic dramas like to shoot break-ups. rain in singapore looks different. it's not a bucket full of water, it's a room. a blue room against a silver sky. your socks stuck to your ankles with the kind of grim determination that makes you almost a little sad to peel them off, to toss them in the washing machine behind the kitchen. there's a little balcony behind the kitchen in the house you left in february, with a washing machine and a ledge for sitting on and a dryer that doesn't work. you used to go there when you wanted to check on the restaurant across the street. from here you can make out the round, blue-rimmed tables that attract students, biking enthusiasts, three am brawls between red-faced european men and their red-faced european friends. if there's noise on this side of the street, it's probably coming from there.

summer. summer reminds me of home. so far i've been telling people that the association is a bad one, and it certainly isn't a lie, but it's not a whole truth either, if one believes in the matter of whole truths to begin with. i'm starting to think maybe there are only skim-milk truths, clotted cream truths, 0% fat yogurt truths. truths that change shape when you aren't looking. we aren't looking most of the time, after all. we're very busy people. all of us. we're trying to change the world.

and for what? who are we trying to save? do you want to live forever? that's the goal, isn't it. i mean it's definitely mine. i won't blame you if the concept of death sits on your shoulder like a fourth generation ipod touch with a broken home button, whispering really fucked up shit into your ear when you're alone. i mean it definitely does for me.

puzzle-girl is in new york now, last i checked. good for her. i hear new york is full of lights and electricity and car exhaust. maybe one day she will learn that friendship isn't an emergency help-line. probably not. my friend thinks she will, thinks we'll come back around in our junior year and everyone will see us stuck to each other again like two grotesque modern art pieces drilled back-to-back into a museum exhibit wall only with a firm mutual understanding of what boundaries are, but i have my doubts.

once someone told me with the kind of half-fake half-genuine smile that makes you wonder if AI technology has advanced far enough to mimic the complexities of stupid hormonal teenagers with really bad interpersonal issues after all that i was blooming. coincidentally all the flowers on campus had suddenly decided to poke their heads out of the dirt like babies busting their way out of refrigerators, guns blazing, hearts shot to pieces, so it's not like he was completely bullshitting me. he was only ninety-eight percent bullshitting me. the two percent is why he comes up in my writing as often as he does, all this time later. like i think he was ninety-eight percent clown but two percent circus, two percent red-nosed reindeer trying to unionize behind a striped curtain, two percent something real. or at least i like to think that way. i'm a writer. we have to pretend there's something to write about. or else what will we write about?

so yeah. one time someone told me i was blooming. at the time i was embarrassed. and then after the story put an abrupt end to itself i was madly obsessed with the idea of flowers jutting out of cracks in the earth, gold pouring forth from blood-wounds, poinsettia eyes, whatever, whatever, and then the flowers started wilting. standing on the path outside my dorm i was like what the fuck? why the hell is everything dying? it's been like three days, god, what are you guys made of, tissue paper?

i was talking to the flowers. which died in spite of my indignation, so that's one for nature, zero for me. good for them. see you next spring, when things will, hopefully, be different. i don't have a plan as much as i have a dream i'd like to see walk into reality on three legs and a pitchfork. but it's a good dream. i promise.

the sky's clear as glass now. it's so bright i could probably stick my hand up there and stir vigorously and then an angel would emerge from the ether, rubbing her eye sleepily with the back of her hand. that's the kind of clarity i'm talking about. making metaphors about christianity-clarity. i am lonely and my dreams are full of beautiful people-clarity.

that's a lie-clarity. loneliness is, as mentioned in a previous installment of the meandering car accident i call this blog, a choice, and i'm too lazy and full of my own slew of interpersonal issues to commit to something like that. but summer is new, and it's like i'm getting used to the body in my basement all over again. how do i step around it, how do i make sure i don't look at its face? and its eyes, oh, those eyes. how terrible. how full of absence.

there will be exactly two hundred students on campus when summer move-ins are finished next week. this school has a population of nearly sixteen hundred. what are we doing?

research. academia. learning a new language. road trips. plane trips. horse riding lessons. research. academia. learning a new language. relationships. spaceships. building a ladder to the moon.

it feels like the sun never sets sometimes. the hours slide into one another like tectonic plates beneath the surface of the world and yet the sky remains just as it looked this afternoon, milk-white and pale as death. a hot summer wind blows and sends the clouds careening sideways into each other, and yet from this distance nothing changes. drop a body in a bathtub and nothing changes. beat someone up and nothing changes. survive thirteen weeks of bad mistakes and then worse ones, midnight mistakes, thursday evening mistakes, the kind of mistake you don't think you'll ever be able to write about, and still nothing changes.

they say there's always a silver lining but what if i want fur instead? let's say i want a fur-lined sky with fur-lined clouds and a little heart-shaped toy that makes a sound when you step on it. let's say i want to be fifteen again. the sky doesn't care. it still looks like a damn sky. the sky doesn't do things out of sentimentality.

it's just kind of there. today i'm just kind of here. today we're all alive. good for you. good for me. good thing my hand was on the wall when i slipped in the shower, so i could get out and dry my hair and then sit down in this shitty weird-smelling lounge with my laptop with the cracked touchpad and my cool elmo slippers, and tell you about this solitary life on mars.

05.26.2021

[krayfishthetypelessblob]

What’s it like having se as your polar function?-IEE anon <33

To be honest, it’s sometimes hard to tell whether what I’m experiencing is Se poLR or just enneagram 9/being a double withdrawn type. There’s a lot of overlap and frankly I think my typing combination is fairly common together for that reason.

It’s short, but I really relate to this description of +Se PoLR:

“+Se PoLR of LII: Not sure how to defend against strong intrusion from others; May not realize others are undermining LII until too late. Can be overly confrontational if cornered and in a way that winds up giving away all of LII’s power accidentally.”

My presence as a whole is very ghostly, I disappear in plain space and am painfully unassertive. While I am a bit more active and motivated than a lot of Se poLR descriptions are portrayed, much of that motivation exists in the most covert and roundabout way possible. I get what I want by moving around others rather than pushing my own agenda, which is often pretty inefficient and energy taxing. Of course I am definitely more of a planner than a doer, idealizing what I could do and fine tuning those ideas rather than actually doing it. Much of this excessive behavior comes from the fact that whenever I do try to assert myself, even if I’m mimicking others my behavior is over the top and weird (which makes me either come across as blatantly insane/scary to others or like a screaming chihuahua, hence laughable/difficult to take seriously) or overly permissive and compromising. It’s easier and better to take the long route rather than bother with Se, a function I have absolutely no connection to apparently. 90% of the time though, much of what I do is extra, excessively time consuming, and almost a waste of time lol.

I am also hardcore averse to pressuring others and, when I have to, will default to emotional/Fe oriented pressuring (which I’m also… Not fantastic lol). While especially in a work environment I am a control freak at my worst, my style of control tends to be pretty permissive and democratic because I don’t know how to deal with people pushing back at me well (and will over assume they will just do what I say because I place them into roles based on their potential for progress and assume they’ll be cool with the logic behind that). I am excessively preoccupied with crossing boundaries and having my own boundaries being trampled on.

[kai-keda]

So something on twitter got me rambling this to someone who I don’t even know whether or not they’re involved in the same communities as me or not and I kinda just realized this is actually a big problem.

Why are fandom spaces having age wars? Or would it be more appropriate to call it generational wars?

Basically what I’m going on about is how now that I’m 25 years old and have joined and become super involved with a relatively much newer community than any other I’ve been in before I’m seeing a lot of hostility.

Hostility thrown at me by complete strangers.

Okay, so, if you’ve known me for long enough you’d know that I’m used to people not liking me because of actions I did or words I said. Specifically I’m referring to that mega dark time in the Dragon Ball fandom when my mental health was unchecked, I was overly emotional and stupid.

When I say “Hostility being thrown at me by complete strangers” in this context I don’t mean it in that same sense. I mean people who only know my age and that I’m in their fandom.

With my previous fandoms they were things that a lot of adults were in as well because they initially joined said fandom as children themselves. This includes Dragon Ball and Naruto. So I never really had a problem with people hearing my age and running for the hills screaming since they were used to seeing adults. There were also communities with source materials that were geared more towards adults like Trigun.

Heck I was still more often than not on the younger side of any particular group discussion. At most I would be more in the middle of the groups age range and never the oldest.

That is until now.

See I’ve recently gotten really excited, obsessed, hyperfixated or whatever you want to call it with the MCYT content creators. I’m talking of course specifically about the Dream SMP stuff but also the creators individually.

I love the Sleepy Bois Inc group and the Dream Team and Fundy and Ranboo and Niki and BBH and Tubbo and just the whole lot of them in the right contexts honestly.

To me this wasn’t really anything new. I mean, once upon a time I enjoyed Yogscast but I was really young and not involved in the internet’s current world of fandom culture. Also, I never obsessed over them and their story. I was into other things at the time.

When I get really invested in something I tend to immediately go searching for a community to share it with and I’ve started following on tumblr and twitter a lot of wonderful fan-artists and analysts and shitposters and man the lot of you are so great. And I’m also subscribed to a LOT of animators on YouTube. I’ve been leaving as many positive comments ranging from pointing out the finer details of a piece of work to fully emotional responses as I can possibly leave.

And it seems like you guys are really awesome and open and friendly! You guys tend to reply to my comments and even if you don’t (which is totally fair! Don’t feel pressured, my comments are to make you feel good not a trap to make you interact with me!) you’ll leave a like or heck a heart on my YouTube comments to y’all’s animations.

Seeing my positive energy getting returned with positive energy gave me the courage to join some discord servers and I started, of course, with the official ones. Wilbur Soot was the content creator of this group of people that I watched first so of course by this point I was subscribed to him on Twitch. I was also subbed to TommyInnit so I joined their servers. I’m in a few other servers including SAD-ist’s server and Techno’s members only server.

I started out joining vc’s and chatting in text channels but it’s been quite a long time since I’ve done either of those two things (not including a stray opinion here or there being thrown into the DreamSMP Boundaries discord).

I’m pretty sure it’s been since early December since I’ve really interacted in ANY of these servers - including the much smaller non-official fan ones!

Why is that?

Honestly, I got tired of the hostility thrown my way at any mention or reminder of my age.

I’m 25 years old and when people in these servers hear that, a good chunk legitimately feel really awkward.

I was asked not once, not twice, but FOUR TIMES in a single night from FOUR DIFFERENT PEOPLE in the SAME VOICE CALL “Why are you in a fan server for a sixteen year old Minecraft streamer (referring to TommyInnit) if you’re 25?” with NO trace of irony and with complete seriousness and out of all those times only ONE PERSON defended me because they were in the call for the third instance only for them to leave, someone else to join and it to happen again.

And each time, the call went quiet and everyone waited silently for my answer. They were all legitimately concerned for the fact that I happen to be a fan of a streamer who happens to be younger than me.

And when I pointed out what I THOUGHT was obvious which was “90% of the other streamers he’s with and openly calls friends are also adults including Wilbur who is only one year younger than me and Philza who is seven years OLDER than me” only a portion of people responded with “yeah that’s true.”

The rest said “That’s not the same.”

I tried again to “explain myself” (we’ll get to how shitty THAT is in a minute) by detailing how I just genuinely think Tommy, and Tubbo as well, are fun to watch. They’re entertaining, they’re funny, they’re energetic, they work well off the other streamers and I also find them adorable the same way I find puppies and kittens adorable. Heck, I love referring to Tommy as a Chihuahua because he’s a tiny little child with a really loud bark. It’s funny and cute and that’s the appeal.

That got a few other people to relax but there were still some people who at this point just said “well, I still think it’s weird but whatever.” and continued on only with an awkward air of nervousness around them.

Alright so it’s really important for me to stress that being a fan of a content creator does not equate wanting anything romantic or sexual with them in any capacity and therefore there is nothing inherently “creepy” or predatory about an adult being a fan of a content creator who happens to be a minor. I get that that seems like a hard concept to grasp but it’s true.

I’m sure there’s plenty of musicians and actors y’all absolutely adore who you don’t want to marry and/or bang. Heck, I’m positive there’s a good chunk of you who love Miyazaki films. You love his work, you’re a fan of what he does, of his content and you’re a fan of him yet you don’t want to marry and/or bang him. I’m sure a lot of you also have really close platonic friendships that you enjoy.

Assuming I’m only a fan of Tommy to get closer to him and his fans who are minors for some gross reasons is really shitty. NEVER assume the worst in someone like that. Be cautious around adults on the internet in general, sure, but this particular attitude I’ve described is disgusting.

Anyways, beyond that though this rabbit hole goes deeper.

It’s not just people being concerned that an adult is a fan of a content creator who is a minor. People have actually openly shamed and mocked me for being 25 years old in these other servers. Including the one you have to pay monthly to get into in the first place!

And now I go on twitter and I see a post pointing out how silly it is for minors to push adults out of fandom spaces that are based on content created BY ADULTS and the replies are people arguing FOR THE EXCLUSION OF ADULTS?!?!

HELLO?!?!

Are you guys okay?!?!

How is me being a fan of Philza and wanting to interact with other fans of his weird and creepy?? THE MAN IS LITERALLY SEVEN YEARS OLDER THAN ME AND MARRIED WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!

I heard that there’s been a lot of drama in the JoJo fandom recently where minors are trying to say the whole fandom needs to be purged of adults??? That it’s meant to be a safe space for children and teenagers?? THE ANIME JOJO’S BIZZARE ADVENTURE?!?! DO Y’ALL KNOW HOW OLD THAT FRANCHISE IS?!?! IT’S OLDER THAN SOME OF YOU!!

Should teenagers have safe spaces in fandom where they don’t have to worry about strange adults if they’re uncomfortable with that? Absolutely.

Should adults be shamed and kicked out of fandom as soon as they become an adult? Should “20” be the age where fandom must stop? Absolutely fucking NOT!

I want so bad to make friendships and be a part of a community of people who enjoy these dorky Minecraft streamers as much as I do. It kills me to open Discord, see all the activity in these servers and shy away at the last minute from joining in because of my age.

I’m rusty on this quote so forgive me if it’s not exact but this has been my life motto since I became an adult and accepted my place in fandom. I think a lot of you guys can learn from it:

“When I became an adult I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

- C.S Lewis

[gibelwho]

Marathon #1: The Western Finale and Awards

My train to the Old West has returned to its station and therefore it is time to consider all the films screened in Gibelwho Production’s Western Marathon. Taking guidance from Filmspotting’s inaugural marathon, I watched 8 films in the Western genre, with production dates spanning 30 years, each with a unique representation of frontier life, good and evil, stunning landscapes, and the men and women who inhabit the Western tales. Each film has its own recap and review on this site, but when placed in contrast to each other, the narrative of a shifting genre emerges, reflecting the changes in society that are then mirrored in the depictions of the Old West. Here are the list of the films:

High Noon (Fred Zinnemann, 1952)

The Searchers (John Ford, 1956)

Stagecoach (John Ford, 1939)

My Darling Clementine (John Ford, 1946)

Rio Bravo (Howard Hawks, 1959)

A Fistful of Dollars (Sergio Leone, 1964)

Winchester ‘73 (Anthony Mann, 1950)

The Wild Bunch (Sam Peckinpah, 1969)

As noted in my introduction post, the Western genre was not my favorite of the Hollywood Studio System - I’ve never fully connected to this classic American genre, so I was a bit apprehensive about starting this journey, but still determined to keep an open mind for the variety of films included in the scope. The Marathon certainly expanded my horizons - I had only seen two of the eight films (Stagecoach and High Noon) in film school, so most of the material was seen with fresh eyes. I knew the basics of the genre, but was ready to explore the themes in a deeper way with some classic examples from the genre’s biggest stars and directors.

One prominent troupe of the Western genre is the lone man standing up to forces bigger than himself, which held true for most of the films in this Marathon. High Noon leans into this idea in the extreme - where no one in the town will lift a hand to help Gary Cooper defend against the criminals returning to seek revenge. John Wayne - the signature figure of the entire Western genre - took offense to this portrayal of a weak and friendless sheriff and so teamed up with Howard Hawks to film Rio Bravo, crafting a movie about a sheriff devoted to his public office and surrounded by capable compatriots. Clint Eastwood, the man who took the mantle of the Western lone man icon from John Wayne in his Dollars trilogy, starting with A Fistful of Dollars, has neither integrity nor a sense of duty - but is simply out to make as much money as he can selling his services.

Despite their lone man status, the protagonists of the Western are always surrounded by men and women that round out the film’s supporting cast. The portrayal of women in particular was uneven throughout the eight films; most of the actresses infused their characters with a spirit necessary in order to live in the frontier towns, but the actresses were also dealing with scripts that were not always sophisticated or enlightened. A woman's place in society often was divided into parlor women, such as Chihuahua in My Darling Clementine or Dallas in Stagecoach, or sophisticated women from the East blessing their presence in the wild West, such as Clementine or Lucy from the same films. Helen Ramirez, the business woman and former lover of the town’s sheriff in High Noon, and the matriarch of the Baxter family from A Fistful of Dollars are perhaps the only women in the Marathon’s films that truly have agency over their lives, but even they are punished for that distinction, with Helen leaving town after selling her business and Mrs. Baxter losing her life during the Rojo’s attack. And within The Wild Bunch - there are literally no women of consequence who are even featured in the film. Depending on the decade of the film’s creation and the effort put in by the screenplay, there is a mixed bag when it comes to women’s representation in the Western genre.

The theme that does have consistency across all the films is the treatment of Native Americans - and when viewed through a modern lens, it is extremely lacking in equitable representation. Across all of these films, when Indians are presented on screen - they are always the enemy, their motivations or points of view are never considered or explored, and they are always presented as an Other. In Stagecoach and Winchester ‘73, roving bands of Native Americans are presented as the main threats to the white characters - and in the latter film, typical Hollywood institutional racism is on display as white man Rock Hudson is cast as an indigenous person. The Searchers is the most flagrant, also casting a white man as the tribal chief Scar, and its script is based on an assumed racist conception that a white woman is tainted (and even decayed to the point of hysterical mental illness) once exposed to a native tribe. Mexican and Mexican Americans are given slightly better treatment, oftentimes portrayed as allies, whether as saloon and hotel owners or even as part of the posse. In The Wild Bunch, the gang of rogues consider Angel a part of the team and even attempt an ultimately unsuccessful rescue from the Mexican military. People of color are not, however, the center of the tale, but always as side characters in service of the white protagonists.

Two sub-themes also cropped up in several of the films, the first of which deals with a prominent event in American history. Although these films were released within a 30-year period between 1939 and 1969 - their settings ranged from the 1860s to the 1880s (with The Wild Bunch as the odd film out, set in 1913); this put their narratives within a few decades of the Civil War, and while none of the films deal with this as a prominent plot point, the national war is part of the characters history and therefore affects the men’s interactions in the Wild West - where any man could have fought on either side of the war. In Winchester ‘73, Lin and his friend High-Spade join the US Cavalry in a fight against the Indians and as they part ways - the duo admit to the US Sergeant that they fought against each other during the Battle of Bull Run. The men shake hands and part as chums, apparently having moved past what they consider a brother vs brother fight. More contentious is the handling of the war in Stagecoach, where the traveling band bicker about the North vs South struggle - some refer to the South as the “Southern Confederacy” and others clap back that it was a “rebellion.” In keeping with the underlying point of view of white men prominent in the genre, neither of these scripts describe the war’s central fight as around America’s original sin of slavery. 

Another sub-theme deals with the very real struggle of alcoholism amongst the backdrop of the frontier, where saloons are primary social settings and the alcohol flows freely. In Stagecoach, Doc Boone’s large consumption of alcohol is treated as a humorous character quirk during the first half, but when Lucy’s pregnancy demands a premature delivery, his constant inebriation becomes a serious threat to her and the baby’s life. In My Darling Clementine, Doc Holliday’s battle with tuberculosis is made worse by drinking alcohol, definitely whiskey and even the champagne that he orders as an alternative, yet he continues to drink throughout the film. Dean Martin’s stellar performance in Rio Bravo took on a newly sober man’s temptation of falling back into the bottle, bravely showing the devastating effects of battling the disease, but also how a community of support is immensely helpful for pushing through.

Spanning 30 years, the films included in this Marathon chart the shifting narratives within the Western, with the first few decades adhering to the original genre tropes, and the films in the last decade beginning to subvert those conventions as the societal conditions had shifted as well. The films from the early decades - Stagecoach (1939), My Darling Clementine (1946), Winchester ‘73 (1950), High Noon (1952), The Searchers (1956), and Rio Bravo (1960) - for the most part adhere to the genre conventions established by the Hollywood Studio System, including the frontier setting, a lone man sheriff fighting against monumental forces, a white-centric perspective of civilization creeping into the wilderness, and a black and white moral code featuring clear cut villains. But as the years progressed into the 1960s and global culture changed, so too did the Western genre, with A Fistful of Dollars (1964) and The Wild Bunch (1969) demonstrating those changes in this Marathon. Featuring protagonists with a blurred moral code that didn’t fall neatly into the traditional ideal sheriff hero, as well as much more overt and excessive displays of violence, these films pushed the boundaries of Western narratives and forged new visual iconography, such as Clint Eastwood’s The Man With No Name’s hat and poncho from the Dollars trilogy. Looking beyond the scope of this Marathon, the shifting conventions have only become more prominent as the years followed the 1960s, with Westerns increasingly focused on previously marginalized voices of women and persons of color, more fully exploring the grey morality of life on the frontier, and pushing the sequences of violence to even more extremes.

And now - time for the Awards! The following categories were considered across the eight films screened:

Actor

Actress

Supporting

Screenplay

Song/Score

Direction

Best Picture

Actor:

Clint Eastwood as The Man With No Name in A Fistful of Dollars

Departing from the early Western genre conventions, Eastwood plays The Man With No Name as an anti-hero, an intelligent stranger that devilishly plays the two rival gangs against each other, but also reunites a family and saves his only friend in the town. As the role that provided his breakout stardom, Eastwood is the epitome of cool - calm, confident, devious, and the fastest draw in town. The shoddy ADR slightly detracts from his performance, but otherwise, it is clear why he stole the mantle from John Wayne as the Western star for the more modern age. 

Honorable Mentions:

John Wayne as Ringo Kid in Stagecoach - Wayne in his breakout role is fresh-faced, earnest, and innocently in love with Dallas, the prostitute with a heart of gold. John Ford had to fight for Wayne to be cast in this film, and his determination was rewarded by Wayne’s standout performance amongst a strong ensemble cast. He infuses Ringo Kid with a breezy and bemused attitude, floating above all the petty grievances within the stagecoach’s occupants, and instead forges a genuine connection with Dallas. 

Gary Cooper as Will Kane in High Noon - Cooper is a man driven by the undeniable fact that his old enemy will not rest until he seeks revenge and his slow realization that he will face the fight alone - without help from the town nor his wife. His performance is a compelling portrait of restrained fear and solid determination, all playing out on Cooper’s stolid face.

Henry Fonda as Wyatt Earp in My Darling Clementine - Fonda brings sophistication to his performance, balancing a desire for revenge, nervous flirtation with Clementine, and believable sheriff skills. He also leans in to the emotion of the cattleman turned sheriff living on the frontier - subtle and heartfelt when speaking at his brother’s grave.

Actress:

Katy Jurado as Helen Ramirez in High Noon

With a fierce and stellar portrayal of a powerful woman of color in a frontier town, Jurado defies the usual boundaries of both her character’s Western world and also the Hollywood Studio System in which she filmed the movie in 1952. Not only providing a contrast to Grace Kelly’s subdued sheriff’s wife, she holds her own against her white deputy boyfriend, her white business partner where she is a silent investor, and also to her old lover - the white sheriff who is standing alone to defend his town and his life. The screenplay gives Jurado the space to create a character that has depth and her performance matches that opportunity - she is electrifying and an inspiring visage of an independent woman of color onscreen - a rare sight for a Classical Hollywood film.

Honorable Mentions:

Angie Dickinson as Feathers in Rio Bravo - Given the difficult job to inexplicably and quickly fall in love with an aging and stilted John Wayne and also to make unreasonable decisions like staying in town despite the danger to him and any of his associates, Dickinson delivers a remarkable performance. Despite a fleshed out character, Dickinson as Feathers is subtle, cool, calm, feisty, and strong. She refuses to be taken by stereotype, visibly delights in the sheriff’s uncomfortable reactions to her flirtations, and commands every scene with Wayne.

Shelley Winters as Lola Manners in Winchester ‘73 - In a film that doesn’t focus on a set of main characters, but follows the journey of a rifle through the West, Winters does get a majority of screen time; unfortunately, she spends most of that time being passed around between inadequate men. She makes up for that by maintaining a certain level of sass, delivered as snappy comments, but she also finds space for emotional and subtle moments with James Stewart. 

Supporting Actor/Actress:

Dean Martin as Dude in Rio Bravo

Playing against his star persona (a charming and suave crooner from the Rat Pack), Martin is almost unrecognizable as a man going through alcohol withdrawal, attempting to stay sober and also prove his worth to the sheriff, his posse, and himself. Martin is so vulnerable here, especially the scenes where he is struggling with drinking, but he is believable as a gun-slinger and also shows off his incredibly beautiful and smooth vocals. 

Honorable Mentions:

Victor Mature as Doc Holliday in My Darling Clementine - Almost claiming the top spot here, Mature delivers a masterful performance, capturing the drama of a man filled with regret and bitterness. His face has a modern quality to it that stands out in the Western setting, but he employs it well, radiating so much emotional heft with just his eyes alone. 

Thomas Mitchell as Doc Boone in Stagecoach - The Doctor starts out as the comedian of the stagecoach’s ensemble, constantly finding ways to drink the whiskey salesman's wares, and playing a drunk quite convincingly (oftentimes hard to do onscreen). Halfway through the film, however, Mitchell must turn his performance towards drama and emotion, sobering up to deliver a baby. He plays all shades of this character so well and won an Oscar for Supporting Actor for his efforts.

Screenplay:

Dudley Nichols for Stagecoach

From top to bottom, the screenplay for Stagecoach is a master class in plotting, dialogue, and assembling a compelling ensemble cast. The opening scenes provide a clinic in setting up all the individual stories for the characters who join the stagecoach, which feeds into their conflicts, as well as the danger looming over their journey. Ensemble pieces can be tricky to write, but Nichols infuses just the right balance between all characters, giving them each individual moments to shine, as well as natural conflicts that elicit revealing conversations within the coach and at their various stops. Despite its age, the script is teeming with life, is incredibly funny (clearly aided by some stellar performances), and even makes interesting choices around the action scenes - building up the tension to the final shootout, but not showing it onscreen. This is a fantastic screenplay that laid the foundation for a classic movie. 

Honorable Mentions:

Carl Foreman for High Noon: This film is known for its commitment to time, setting a deadline for the villains arrival and constantly reminding the viewer of the impending crisis. This creates a slow burn towards the action, but the film doesn’t rush towards the climax; rather, it focuses on moments between characters and specifically explores their various motivations. The church scene is perfected down to the details, showing how men’s minds can be swayed by emotional speeches (one delivered by Thomas Mitchell, with another fantastic performance). The script is like an onion, with each layer moving the plot forward and revealing more of the character’s emotional journey. 

Various Credits for A Fistful of Dollars - While the dialogue for this film does not particularly stand out, it is an honorable mention due to the structure and ingenuity of the plotting. The Man With No Name is incredibly intelligent and this is demonstrated by all the machinations of his playing the two gangs against each other. A story based on the Japanese film Yojimbo, this film has 5 writers credited on IMDB for the story and screenplay, but does not feel disjointed at all; rather, one is taken in by the clever tricks the gun-slinger does to outwit and take down the Rojos and the Baxters.

Song/Score:

Ennio Morricone for A Fistful of Dollars

This category has a clear winner with Morricone’s score - it is creative, daring (flutes in a Western?!), and incredibly engaging, uniting sound with image effectively. Working on a tight budget, Morricone’s restrictions generated a burst of creativity, crafting a tapestry of sounds that came to define the Dollars trilogy and heralded a new blueprint for the sounds of modern Western movies.

Honorable Mentions: 

Max Steiner for The Searchers - I have known the main title music since before this Marathon, as it is included on the City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra’s compilation of film scores, an album often in my rotation. Steiner’s music alternates between bold statements and lingering wanderlust, crafting a variety of shapes to match the various landscapes that Ethan and Martin travel through during their years of searching.

Jerry Fielding for The Wild Bunch - As the most recent film produced in the Marathon, the soundtrack feels the most modern of the selections. Fielding crafted a body of music that varies from faux patriotic snare drums in the opening sequence, to soft and romantic sides for the team’s down beat moments, to a high adventure score for the train robbery.

Direction:

Sergio Leone for A Fistful of Dollars

While it almost seems sacrosanct to not give John Ford the award, as he is basically the father of the Western, Leone's stretching of the genre in new directions in the spaghetti Western style is too good not to recognize. Leone’s shot composition (utilizing rules of thirds, depth of field and multiple planes, using buildings as framing devices, etc) is a more sophisticated filmmaking than the straightforward shots in the classic Westerns of this Marathon. Not to mention, his direction of the actors is stellar, especially working with Eastwood to define a new visage for the Western anti-hero. For all his fantastic work, the film is not flawless; the ADR sound and some confusing day/night scenes show cracks in the armor, but don’t take away from this masterpiece of vision and storytelling.

Honorable Mention:

John Ford for The Searchers - Despite my loathing for the blatant racism of the screenplay and stilted acting of John Wayne - the distinguished direction of Ford must be acknowledged; there is a reason why this film is considered a classic. The contrast between indoor and outdoor spaces to reflect civilization vs the wilderness and the types of people that inhabit each is conveyed simply through blocking and framing. Additionally, the Monument Valley that Ford was famous for shooting was never captured so beautifully in all of its various seasons. The film must be admired for Ford’s talent, despite its other challenging facets.

Best Picture:

Stagecoach

Despite the age of this film, it feels incredibly fresh and yet timeless. I’ve already touched on the excellent (and funny!) screenplay, Wayne’s star-making turn as Ringo Kid, and the wonderful ensemble cast (especially Thomas Mitchell as Doc Boone and also Andy Devine as Buck the stagecoach driver), but Ford’s direction must be credited as well; he skillfully navigates the cramped space of the stagecoach, reveals character work through blocking in the interior spaces, and films the Monument Valley for the first time in his career. And the film’s climactic action sequence is breathtaking and full of fantastic stunt work! Of course, the portrayal of Native Americans as a looming threat is problematic and is representative of the society and time period in which the film was made, but otherwise Stagecoach deserves its reputation as a classic Western and was the best of the films screened in this Marathon.

Honorable Mentions:

A Fistful of Dollars - After screening many classic Westerns in this Marathon, Leone’s film felt like a leap forward in terms of story, tone, and visual style. I’ve already praised Eastwood’s performance, the screenplay, Leone’s direction, and the incredible score by Morricone for these awards - and the final shootout is a good encapsulation of all these elements coming together. Visually stunning, with a subtle selection of background music from Morricone, featuring a grizzled Eastwood, and a surprise twist in the plot - it was making a statement that a new type of Western had arrived on the scene.

High Noon - This is such a meticulous film, revealing new layers with each scene, keeping viewers aware of the time structure, and carefully detailing the motivations of each character and archetype. As the antithetical film to Rio Bravo, the more emotional and lighthearted movie, High Noon is entirely serious, a tone driven by Gary Cooper’s performance of the slow realization of his fate - that he will be fighting alone for a town that he had defended his entire career. The film is essentially a series of character moments with a slow burn towards the final action scene that is both thrilling and realistic - a well put together Western film.

This Marathon was clearly a small slice of selections within an incredibly vast canon of films from a genre that is foundational to film history. Along the way, I have noted films that are related to the movies within the Marathon and hope to follow up on screening them in the future, to keep my education in this genre continuing. Homework from A Fistful of Dollars are to finish the Dollars trilogy - For a Few Dollars More (1965) and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1966), watch Leone’s ultimate masterpiece Once Upon a Time in the West (1968), and also to view Eastwood’s directorial take on the Western with Unforgiven (1992). Films in the same orbit as My Darling Clementine that deal with Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, and the famous shootout include Tombstone (1993), Wyatt Earp (1994), and Gunfight at the Ok Corral (1957). AFI’s Top 10 Westerns include several that were not in this Marathon, including Shane (1953), Red River (1948), Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971), and Cat Ballou (1965). And finally, some Western films took their plots from Japanese films, so watching the source material such as Yojimbo (1961) or Seven Samurai (1954), which served as the basis for The Magnificent Seven (1960). Even these selections are just scratching the surface of this expansive genre. 

So, after consideration of all the films screened in this Marathon, a deeper dive into the themes and manifestations of the Western genre - did my less than enthusiastic opinion change? While my appreciation for the breadth and depth of the genre’s films grew, this experience also helped further clarify my underwhelming feeling about the genre. As the setting is deeply rooted in the American West and the expansion of eastern “civilized” culture into the natural wilderness, this genre’s underlying theme has racist roots at its core - the thought that Native Americans and Mexicans must be cast aside for the white man (yes, man - as women are often placed in stereotyped roles as well) to become dominant. The different variations on this theme can be made into entertaining cinema, but I can’t help but feel uncomfortable with the underlying narrative of the entire genre. This Marathon only covered a 30 year timespan, from Classical Hollywood to just the beginning of the New Hollywood era, and as the years continued to progress and society developed more acceptance of telling stories with an expanded POV, different variations on the Westerns have been produced; in addition to the films I have noted above, I would like to dive into the more modern and revisionist Westerns, ones such as The Ballad of Little Jo (1993) and Woman Walks Ahead (2017) that tell the tales of the Old West from the women and native perspective.

Despite my trepidation of this Marathon’s topic, I did enjoy diving deeper into the genre and learning more about the Western’s shifting conventions. The next Marathon topic that Filmspotting took on has me a bit more anxious - as it is diving into the Horror genre. I typically avoid scary movies, so I will need to gather all my emotional fortitude to take on this next Marathon. We are transitioning from the gunfight in the center of town to the stalking of innocent victims at night. For now, adios amigos!

[iamanoneyemouse]

Olly

I’m not sure how many years I’ve had this account for, but this will be my first post, so I thought I’d make it count. I want to make this a very special post about our cat, Olly. 

At 11am today we took Olly to the vet’s practice in Leeds for the very last time. I’d like this post to service as a humbling reminder about the importance of resilience, love and kindness; all of which Olly had in abundance. 

So, let’s start with a little about Olly. He was hand-reared by Rachel’s Dad and his wife; he was the kitten of an unexpected pregnancy and they took him in as he was the runt of the litter. He is a half tabby, half Maine Coon cat, with a beautiful mixture of dark stripes spread across golden brown fur. He has white fur socks, a white mouth/nose combination with soft green eyes that only ever looked at you with dopey kindness. 

I first met him when I first visited Rachel’s Dad’s place in the Hertfordshire area. He was surrounded by two crazy Chihuahuas and a rather grumpy smaller cat called Jake. What first struck me about him was how docile and patient he was; he was completely hounded by these two crazy little dogs, and whilst he clearly was harassed to a point, he would often put up with it until they were bored or ran off - mostly he would try and stay on the kitchen counter surfaces and out of their reach! He was so affectionate and loved the attention. Over the coming months Olly and I formed a real “bro” friendship and he’d lap up the fuss I’d make over him whenever I’d visit. Rachel’s Dad had said a few times that when I bought my own place he could come and live with me. 

So when Rachel and I bought our own place in January 2018 he came to live with us - it was brilliant. He was a fantastic character; dopey, clumsy but full to brim of love with a playful nature (note - his idea of playful always involved claws!). There was never any malice in anything he did, and he was such a vocal cat! I’ve had cats all my life, but never had a cat chirp at me as if to say “hello” when you walk through the door. He loved to brush up against you and be near you, but he wasn’t a cuddly cat; he hated being picked like a baby, so he always enjoyed being near you on his terms only. He’d either lay next to, or on you, if it was to his benefit! Haha. He had a fetish for dirty clothing - we have too many videos of him rolling around in clothes from the wash basket, and even a picture of Olly entangled in my boxer shorts! He took his time to establish his territory, as he clumsily went about upsetting the multitude of cats in the neighbourhood that had clearly spent a long time establishing their boundaries, with our garden being a pathway to most of them. Eventually, he settled on a territory, which would then be shared (again) with the arrival of Jake as Rachel’s Dad moved to start a business further north. He loved food. A lot. To the point where he would wake us up at unruly hours meowing in readiness for his breakfast. To fix this issue we bought a timed food dispenser so he’d get regular food at set times. He never quite got the hint that we were no longer the food providers, and continued to wake us up quite often, only to run downstairs when he heard the food drop at 7.30am like clockwork... !!

His health did seem to plague his life, as he always seemed to have something wrong with him. It’s a good thing we had insurance, although sometimes it felt the amount they’d insure of Olly reduced by the week! When we first moved in he had a urinary tract infection, probably driven by the stress of moving; then he needed an operation on his eyelids as they were ingrown and causing him grief. He was sensitive to certain foods, so we put him on an exclusion diet to stop it causing aggravation (he would scratch his face until it bled sometimes!). Little did we know that, amongst all the surface-level chaos that were involved in what seemed like monthly visits to the vet (with the bills on top), that there was another deep rooted issue lurking that would prove to be terminal. 

It all came to light as we were selling our house. Olly was subdued for a couple of days, which wasn’t completely unusual behaviour given the turbulent year he’d had having an eye operation and infections. He would usually be his buoyant usual self after a day or two, but once he stopped drinking this time it became clear was a very different case. Rachel took him to the vets, where they discovered his breathing was rapid, he was severely dehydrated and there was fluid in his lungs. He nearly died that night, but the vets managed to save him and he was transferred to the larger veterinary hospital for overnight care. He was kept in for two days in total whilst they stabilised him. It was then they were able to examine him properly and discover that he had a heart murmur caused by a genetic heart disease, which was common with his breed. He would need to be on 5 pills daily for the rest of his life. It was worrying news.

The vet was unsure of his life expectancy at that point “you could have him for a few months, or a few years”. This wasn’t what we wanted to hear; he was 6 years old and up until this point had been full of life. He was our very own dopey dose of positive energy each day. At this point we were relieved that he was alive and there was a chance all could return to normal if the pills worked. That was a big if... we’d had experience already of how much he hated having eyedrops after his operation the year before. There was added complication of being told the side effects of the pills that would stop his heart from clotting would also suppress his appetite and dehydrate him. It was going to be an uphill struggle. 

I went to pick him up whilst Rachel was at work. As I let him out of his basket it quickly became apparent that he was not quite himself. He stumbled into the kitchen to his water bowl, which is where he stayed for the rest of the day. I watched as he tentatively lapped up some water occasionally and then rest. He was exhausted and very flat; no purring, none of his usual energy - it was like a part of him had already died.

He didn’t eat anything that day, which was worrying given how much he had loved food up until this point (he was a notoriously greedy shite who would eat until he threw up). Giving him pills at first was very traumatic for him, because the YouTube video we’d settled on following showed the guy (a vet) putting the pill at the back of his cat’s throat after simply opening the jaw. Unfortunately Olly did not play ball quite in the same way, refusing to open his mouth. With him being so weak and hardly putting up a fight, it was horrendous to know we were putting him under such stress; and there were a couple of occasions where it took so long to get him to take the pill that they’d started disintegrating and left his mouth with a horrible taste and foam coming out of his poor mouth. We had to come up with another battle plan: hide the pills in food and treats he’d like so he wouldn’t realise he was being drugged. We tried hiding the pills in his favourite Felix jelly pouches, but he quickly started to sniff them out and then rejecting Felix altogether. Quite quickly he was losing interest in other foods that had previously worked too. We were starting to run out of food he would eat, and also any ideas to get him to take them (it felt like he was losing trust in all of the food we were giving him, and rightly so!).

Some mouldable treats arrived, which worked for a few days, but he soon wised up to those as well. Rachel then ordered a special syringe that would squirt both water and the pill into his throat - we still had to get his throat open, but it became the most effective, albeit still stressful, approach. We soon noticed he was eating less and less food, to the point where he wasn’t eating any solids at all; If we could get him to eat one pouch per day of any type of food then we had done well, compared to the 4 he’d easily gobble up beforehand. He’d always been a big, chunky boy, but for the first time we could feel the bone along his back. As he ate less each day, over the next couple of weeks it became very clear he was wasting away in front of our eyes, and there was seemingly less and less we could do about it. We made an appointment with the vet for Friday 2nd October and they sent his blood off for a comprehensive test to see if there was anything else underlying. They were clearly concerned as he’d lost 25% of his bodyweight and wasn’t eating any solid food - their tone said it all: that it wasn’t looking good for Olly. We were told they’d contact us Monday or Tuesday with the results and that we should discuss a plan for him then.

It was the Monday that we received the call. His kidneys were failing under the pressure being put on them by the drugs to keep his heart working, and the  weakened state of his body. His organs were now working against each other, and he had all but stopped eating. On the Tuesday they had prescribed potassium liquid to take and another liquid to improve his appetite, both to be taken once per day - the poor boy was now up to 7 potentially traumatic pills/liquids. The vet was very honest with us that it wasn’t looking good, and we should consider our options at this point if it doesn’t work. At that point we thought we’d see how it went for the week and give it until Wednesday 14th October and if there was no improvement then we’d bring him back and give him the peace he deserved, but Olly’s reaction to the first dose was really not good. He clearly hated the taste of the appetite inducing liquid, and it seemed to have the opposite effect. Rachel and I didn’t want him to suffer unnecessarily if it looked like it wasn’t working. By Thursday’s doses things had only gotten worse, he now was barely drinking, and we could only get him to eat Sheba liquid treats; even that was once or twice per day. His calorie and liquid intake was extremely low, so by the end of Thursday we had both agreed that we didn’t want him to suffer anymore; it simply wasn’t fair on him. It was heartbreaking to see that even the simplest of exercise would now tire him out easily - even getting up and enjoying a stroke would result in him sitting down after a couple of minutes looking subdued again.

Olly hadn’t been the same since he came home from the veterinary hospital. We’d seen flashes of his beautiful personality and happy nature, but it was becoming too few and far between that he was himself. We agreed to call the vets on Friday and stop his medication. It was important to try and make Olly’s final day or two as comfortable as possible, and the trauma of receiving pills now seemed an unnecessary pain for him. Rachel didn’t give him the medication on Friday morning, and called the vets to arrange for Olly to be put to a peaceful sleep at 11am on Saturday. And now Olly’s terminal countdown to a peaceful sleep had now begun. 

The entirety of Friday 9th October was spent with both of us at home with Olly, giving him as much care and love as he would put up with. We brought out the catnip, which he went wild for until he got tired and sat back down. We brought out his favourite cat brush, which he lapped up until he once again needed to sit back down. He enjoyed some Sheba treats and even disappeared outside until midnight (resulting in me walking the streets calling for him, only for him to return on his own accord, meowing like he used to outside the front door). It was the first time we’d seen him consistently more happy and comfortable for a number of weeks.

It was far too quickly that Saturday 10th October arrived (today). I woke up before 7am feeling sick. I went out to the landing and sat with Olly, who was in his usual spot by the top of the stairs, which had been his residence for the past couple of weeks. I looked into the bedroom to see Rachel and Jake asleep peacefully. I let Olly have a whiff of some catnip, which he enjoyed but it was short-lived compared to Friday. After a while of chilling with him, I got up to head downstairs and he followed. I gave him 2.5 Sheba liquid treats, which he lapped up. He seemed energetic, so I let him outside... and he leapt over to Margaret’s garden next door! That was nothing unusual for a healthy Olly, so it was lovely to see him bounce over the fence like a gazelle once more. As time went on we started to worry that he may be about to repeat last night and not come back until later on! As I began to panic and consider wandering the streets again, Rachel pointed out that he had in fact returned and was chilling at the back of the garden in amongst the plant pots. I was relieved at first, but it was now past 10am and I knew that when he walked in from the garden, that would be the last time he’d ever step foot through what was his territory. This was starting to become a reality for me selfishly, and he was blissfully unaware of the fate that lie ahead. 

Rachel was at the top of the stairs where Olly had settled back into his usual spot. She was giving him a good old brush, which he was loving. I came upstairs to join them and took a photo of the moment; he looked relaxed and happy, it was lovely to see. I sat on the top few steps and started brushing him; his purr was radiant and loud - louder than we’d heard it for a number of weeks - and in that moment it all hit me... this beautiful, kind little boy was about to be cruelly taken through euthanasia for something completely out of his control. I broke down in tears and couldn’t carry on brushing, placing the brush down near Rachel and tearfully declaring “I can’t do it” before crumbling into a blubbering heap on the stairs. Olly, being the happy little git he was, stood up at this point, and nuzzled his head into my head as I lay there crying. It set me off even more; trembling with a bittersweet mixture of joy and hysteric sadness, I was moved to even more tears by how affectionate he was still able to be, which also then set poor Rachel off. I’m a realist, but in that moment I felt like he was saying “hey it’s OK, I’m OK with this”. It was such a beautiful moment, it broke my heart - I should have been comforting him, but instead he was comforting me and Rachel. 

Before we knew it, it was quarter to eleven and we had to go. We tearfully placed him into the catnip-sprayed basket, and left for the vets. When we got there, they took him in and we waited outside whilst they attached the drip to him. They then invited us in, where we sat down, they brought him out and placed him on my lap with a towel to wrap him up. He was clearly anxious about being back at the vets but we comforted him best we could as the vet started the anaesthetic. Fighting tears and trying not to shake with sadness, we comforted him until his head suddenly dropped and he stopped moving. Within a minute, he was completely gone. I couldn’t contain my emotion. Our beautiful boy had passed peacefully in my arms whilst Rachel and I comforted him. He was now at peace. He’d never have to make an effort to breathe, eat, drink, fight or feel any pain again. Our Olly had been set free. His ashes will be scattered at the communal area of the crematorium. We have tufts of his fur from where we brushed him, which we’ll put in the picture of him that’ll end up in our new kitchen. He will never be forgotten.

Olly, I didn’t just lose a pet today, I lost a pal. I lost a member of my family; we were part of a pride. You were such a pure and wonderful character, I’m not sure how anyone ends up with a personality like yours. I will miss your conversational chirp as I walk through the door after a day of work. I will miss your violent “claws out” approach to being playful. I will miss you making us laugh with your unique way of living. I will miss your clumsiness. I will miss your greed. I will miss sunbathing with you. You brought joy to so many of our friends and family. You will always be loved, and very much missed. Rest in the peace that you deserve Olly. You will never be forgotten. All my love.

[in-tua-deep]

Ok so imagine that instead of running away as a kid, Five stays. However when Ben is supposed to die, it's Five instead and so Ben lives but Five's now a ghost and only Klaus can see him. What do you think would be the reason Five ends up dying, and how do you think the others would react?

OOF you just come into my house?? and hit me with that?? absolutely illegal

So Five stays. Five stays and they’re what, fifteen? They go on a mission, and one of them doesn’t come home.

It was supposed to be Ben. It wasn’t.

Five can jump through space, can warp into position, he’s frightening adept at it since he abandoned time travel and focused entirely on improving everything else he could about himself. He’s very very good at his job, and he’s the only one that notices something is about to happen

Maybe Ben has lost control of his powers, and Five is the only one to notice. Five sees Ben tearing himself apart and realizes that he’s the only one who can get close enough to knock Ben out, so he jumps and he manages but he’s not quite fast enough and Ben is out and the tentacles are retreating but not before one can grab him and hurl him into the wall with a sharp crack and then - darkness.

Maybe it’s not Ben’s powers at all. Maybe it’s a bank robber they didn’t account for, one who is frightened and has a gun and who has seen these terrible frightening children murder their fellows and they have a spouse and children and they don’t want to die here over money so they pull up their gun and they take the shot (at Ben, at the biggest danger) and Five sees them from the corner of his eye and without even thinking about it he - jumps. In front of Ben. He takes the bullet because Ben is the best of them, is the kindest of them, and he doesn’t have a single consideration for his own life only for Ben’s.

Maybe it’s something different, but no matter what it is the facts remain the same: Five sees a danger, Five is the only one who can reach his brother in time, Five acts without even thinking, Five dies

Five pops up again, gasping and realizing very quickly that he’s dead. He’s incorporeal, he’s standing at the scene of his own murder, people pass through him when he tries to get attention. But it’s established in the show that they can use their powers as ghosts so Five does what he does best: he jumps. He goes home. He realizes that one of his siblings can see ghosts, and he finds Klaus.

And Five isn’t Ben. He isn’t soft, he’s always been hard angles and sharp words - so when Klaus hesitates to tell the others about Five, Five offers proof. Various pieces of blackmail he’s gathered on the others over the years just in case, things that Klaus would never know. He bugs Klaus into calling a family meeting without Reginald and makes Klaus translate his comments because he’ll be fucking damned if Ben blames himself for Five’s choices. That’s not allowed to happen.

“But Klaus, I thought you couldn’t see ghosts when high?” One of them ask, because they aren’t blind and they know Klaus does drugs to deal with his powers.

“I mean, it’s Five.” Klaus says despondently, looking at where Five is waving his hand through Luther’s head with a fascinated stare, “If anyone could decide to defy all the rules it’s fucking him.” and they accept that because of course they would

and because this is me and i make the rules in my aus I say that this brings them closer together as a whole because Five isn’t Ben, he isn’t content just interacting with Klaus. He doesn’t stick to Klaus’s side by glue, he’s floating through the halls of the manor and then pops up in Klaus’s room like “Hey bitch go to Vanya’s room she’s sad and I want to give her the book on music theory that’s under my bed so up an’ at ‘em you get to me my legs”

“what if i don’t want to?” Klaus asks, only once

“then you get to hear the dulcet tones of me singing the song that’ll get on your nerves until you do” Five threatens, with a look that says it is NOT an empty threat so Klaus hops to

Five pushes at the boundaries of what he can do as a ghost. Ben can pick up books in the show, right? Five pick up books and throws them. He shakes cabinets when he’s angry. He’s basically a weak poltergeist with a very limited ability to interact with his surrounding - maybe he can only interact with objects he had a connection with in life? But in the mansion there are plenty objects he has enough of a connection with to manipulate SO the whole family gets to deal with shit being thrown at them by an irritable Five

Five debates haunting the shit out of Reggie but Klaus begs him not to, because then their dad would just make Klaus try control Five or blame him for it, so Five deals with just making sarcastic comments whenever Reginald is talking and also petty shit like,, giving him bunny ears or sticking his limbs through Reginald’s chest or hell even just gently breakdancing while Reggie is lecturing and Klaus has to really fucking try to not bust out laughing which is its own issues

Klaus gets special training in the mausoleum, and Five gets to go with. Five doesn’t know how to help with this, and maybe in another world Ben curls up next to Klaus and tries to softly comfort him but that’s never been Five’s style. He yells. He’s gonna be the SCARIEST FUCKING GHOST FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE THESE GHOSTLY LOSERS TRY AND FREAK OUT HIS BROTHER. Five is gonna find out whether a ghost can kill another ghost by being a a rabid chihuahua at these ghosts. He’s going to sing backstreet boys songs at the top of his fucking lungs to drown out these weirdos and make Klaus laugh. Maybe he jumps out of the room and jumps back with a flashlight or a book or something else in the manor that he can interact with, to keep Klaus entertained

Five has always had the attitude of being proactive about these things

Five goes on missions with them, Luther makes a dumb fucking plan and gets shivers down his spine and is immediately like “Klaus tell Five to stop sticking his limbs in my body” “Five says he will when you stop having little bitch ass plans” “I’m pretty sure he didn’t say that” “Actually that was a direct quote and also he’s flipping you off right now”

They get older. Klaus gets taller. Diego’s voice drops. Luther packs on more muscle. Five stays the same.

He’s dead, of course he wouldn’t grow. 

That doesn’t stop him from yeeting books off the shelves in a tantrum when he realizes that he’s doomed to be the shortest of the siblings except for Vanya for all eternity. 

(”Klaus what the fuck is wrong with Five now?” Diego asks. It’s the middle of the night. Books are flying off the shelves. Klaus is so tired, so very tired. “Five has realized that he is dead.” “…Yes?” “Dead people do not grow.” “Just say it Klaus.” “Five has realized he’s not going to get taller and is permanently fifteen and is angry about this.” “…alright well good luck with that, I guess.”)

They’re on a mission. They’re on a mission and Five is the ultimate lookout because he isn’t stopped by little things like walls or people seeing him or whatever. Five sees something about to happen, and he yells and something happens and Klaus’s hands are blue and Five zips through space and reaches his sibling (let’s say Diego why not) and he pulls even though he knows he’ll go right through but the guy is right there and he can’t watch his brother die and - 

Five does not go through Diego. Five pulls Diego to the side and the blow that should have killed him misses, and Diego lives, and Five touched him.

(Five is the scariest ghost around, and the other ghosts haven’t been bothering Klaus - so he’d been weaning himself off of the drugs for a while now, Five often needed him to do things that were difficult to do when drugged out of his mind and Klaus figured it was an even trade for Five scaring off the other ghosts so - he’s sober)

Diego has a knife, and he killed the guy, but his eyes are locked with Five’s the entire time because he can see Five. 

the whole family is shocked, even when Klaus gasps and the blue from his hands vanishes and so does Five to everyone but him. they look at each other and just stare. 

“tell luther if he tells dad i’m going to flood his bathroom again” five says, just a little hysterically. “what the FUCK klaus” says the rest of the family

they get home, and somehow Reginald finds out and he has a whole speech about Number Four’s potential and shit and the fact that he can summon Number Five and how perhaps it wasn’t as much of a loss as he thought if Five was still around as a ghost and later they all gather in one of the rooms which has become a commonplace occurrence when Five wants a family meeting and he’s always been willing to pull the ‘dead’ card

(before they gather, Klaus and Five sit in Klaus’s room practicing making Five corporeal and the first thing he does is hurl himself into Klaus’s arms and hug him. Because he’s still 15, he hasn’t touched anyone else since he died and his inability to touch his siblings hurt no matter how many times he poked fun of it by walking through them)

so they have a meeting, and blue glows across Klaus’s hands and Five is visible and the first thing Five says to his family in years is - “Me and Klaus are leaving, who’s coming with?”

Because they’re almost eighteen now, close enough to leave and not have it look too suspicious. And maybe Five didn’t run this plan by Klaus first because Klaus is shocked but Five doesn’t even blink because - Dad knows. Dad is going to want to train Klaus further and experiment with his powers and if that fucking mausoleum is any indication then Reggie has no idea how Klaus’s powers work or how to train them without hurting Klaus. And also Five has spent years now being technically out from under his dad’s thumb, there’s no way he’s sliding back under it

maybe luther protests, but Five is just like “Look, if Dad makes Klaus make me corporeal in his vicinity i’m going to snap his neck simple as that. I’m a vengeful ass ghost, okay? What’re you gonna do about it? Kill me twice?”

and they’re closer than in the original timeline. Five has floated through the halls and seen every instance of them being sad and made Klaus intervene - everyone in this room has had Klaus pull them close and hug them or listen to their problems or give them company or provide them with random books that Five probably picked out - and and and they all care for each other and know each other more than before. And Five includes Vanya, so she’s always there and Five WILL pull the dead card to keep her there because he wants her there and - 

they all agree. Diego is instantly in, he was planning on ditching as soon as he turned 18 anyway. Ben is in, because he’s close with Klaus and with Five. Vanya hesitantly pledges her support, because she’s so tired of Reginald calling her ordinary. Allison shrugs and says she’s in because it’s not like she wasn’t also planning on leaving when she was old enough, okay? Luther is shocked they’re all willing to ditch so easily but… at the same time… Five and Klaus have, over the years, opened his eyes to more than one glaring issue with their father so… tentatively he’s like “okay, i guess someone has to be the leader”

and they gather what they can, and they leave, they leave reginald a note which basically lets him know they’re leaving willingly and not to look for them or anything since they’re almost 18 anyway etc etc. and they go out into the world

they get jobs! they support each other! and maybe the shitty apartments that are all they can afford are too small for 8 people to share, but at least rent goes 7 ways (and it’s not like Five eats or anything) and they can shove blankets and pillows on the floor in front of their shitty TV and eat their shitty pizza and laugh as they watch all the movies they were never allowed back home

Luther gets a job as a mechanic, because he’s always been good at things like that. He remembers wanting to be an astronaut as a kid. He remembers studying rocket ships with wide eyes and putting together model planes and he’s good with his hands and strong and he’s surprisingly good at it. His boss definitely knows Luther is a runaway but has a soft spot for him and is full of gruff advice and gentle praise that Luther flourishes under.

Diego decides to try for the academy with the support of his siblings behind him, and he doesn’t drop out. He meets Eudora and the others all tease him about it. There has been at least one occasion that Five followed him to the academy without Diego’s know how and then told Klaus all about Diego’s awkward flirting

Allison gets into the theater scene and tries out for parts that she gets without even rumoring anyone. Because at the end of the day, she’s good - she’s a good actor. She ends up getting some small parts in movies as well, and the others proudly go see her in theaters and have any movie with her as even a background character in a place of pride on their shelves.

Klaus isn’t ambitious like the rest of the siblings, but he ends up working in a yarn shop run by several old ladies who he’s pretty sure adopted him the moment he said about not having parents in the interview. They teach him know to knit and let him do it between customers at the register. Five likes to run around the yarn shop and try bat balls of yarn off the counters like an asshole cat in between suggesting patterns and critiquing Klaus’s yarn choices. Eventually, Klaus sets up Five with his own set of knitting needles and the old ladies look at the needles clacking and apparently knitting by themselves and Klaus ends up telling them about his dead 15 yr old brother because I mean. He’s from the Umbrella Academy it’s not exactly like he’s an unknown with his powers, and that means that the old ladies absolutely fuss over this child ghost and help him with his technique

(that year, all of his siblings receive knitted socks and hats and scarves from Five on their shared birthday and Five is so pleased to be able to contribute something to the family again, even if they’re all still at a loss of what to give their ghostly brother)

Ben ends up going to college and going on to medical school because he deserves it and he gets scholarships to help out but all of the siblings chip in to put the siblings who want to through school, and Ben gets a part time job as a barista or something between his demanding classes but at the end of the day he wants to help people (he doesn’t want to be useless, like he was the day that Five died, wants to be able to save lives instead of just taking them - because the Horror doesn’t define who he is, and it never has)

Vanya goes to school as well!! She’s a violin prodigy! and they leave without telling their dad beforehand so she goes to get her pills refilled only to find out that they don’t have these pills actually what the fuck are they I’m assuming they’re special and Reginald supplied them somehow idk, and it’s not like the family can afford medication in THIS economy anyway so maybe she just stops taking them and hopes she can handle her anxiety without

and that’s how they find out Vanya has powers oops

OH you know what Vanya absolutely trains her powers with Five and Klaus making him corporeal because, as Five so eloquently puts it when they drive into the countryside, “What’s she gonna do? Kill me twice? as if” and that’s how Vanya learns how to control her powers and she still gets to go to school and she gets to join the orchestra and be first chair because fuck it she’s a goddamn prodigy and passionate about her craft and i love her, she deserved the world

they all grow and they change and they stick together as well as they can with all their varying schedules. they grow, except for Five who is still fifteen years old and who managed to save his family at the cost of his own life. 

But it’s okay. He hands Luther wrenches at his work and freaks out the other mechanics. He talks to ghosts for Diego so that Klaus doesn’t have to (because Klaus has always has a weaker stomach for blood and things than Five, and Five is dead he can see ghosts too that’s a thing). He haunts Allison’s sets until she puts her hands on her hips and scolds him about messing with her co-workers. He knits in Klaus’s shops and shows off socks and scarves to little old ladies with a pride he isn’t sure what to do with. He helps Ben study by holding up flashcards even if he isn’t visible. He goes to all of Vanya’s rehearsals and prods at the harps and pianos with curious ghostly fingers. 

He’s a constant presence in their lives, and they love him. And he loves them.

Five doesn’t leave. Ben lives. Five dies. Everything changes, but the one thing that will never change is that they are a family. No matter what, they have each other - in life and in death.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

The story of Britton Bean started with finding her photo on the Humane Society website. It was April. We weren’t supposed to get a dog until July. 

But. Those ears. 

And she met all the requirements we had for a dog: Small (apartment management requires dogs under 20 pounds); female (to hopefully make it easier to become friends with the bestie’s dog; a rescue. 

So, I posted this tweet, then frantically texted @whatsmyappeal​, who was at work. Basically trying to talk myself out of going and meeting this dog. Because I knew. I just <em>knew</em>.

I mean. Those <em>ears</em>.

Here’s the thing about adopting a dog in PDX: If you adopt through the Humane Society, you have to move fast. Dogs and cats get adopted fantastically quickly in PDX. On average, dogs who pass behavioral tests and physical exams can be put up for adoption on Tuesday and gone by Wednesday. PDX is such a busy place for the Humane Society, that they take in a LOT of animals from neighboring states. It’s called the Second Chance Program. Animals from neighboring states who pass health and behavioral tests are sent to PDX so that shelters near-capacity can keep space open for animals that need more specialized care or simply more animals in general. 

We’ll circle back to this in a second.

So, here’s this adorable, scared little girl up for adoption, and I’m trying desperately not to run out and grab her. We’re traveling in June and July; which is why we decided to wait until late July to even consider adoption. I had been looking at listings just to get a sense of how often small dogs came into the shelter. This was not the moment to adopt. 

But. I knew she was ours. I just knew it. 

I ended up calling the husband and laying out a plan. We’ll go and meet her. He gets final say in if we take her home. If she doesn’t feel like a good fit to him, we’ll wait. It’s important that we both want this dog. 

We go. We fill out paperwork. We wait an hour. We go into the meeting room, and here she comes. She’s scared and nervy. Incredibly quiet. We find out she’s had a very, very exhausting week. 

On Monday, she’d been found on the streets of Fresno. 

On Tuesday, they’d put her on a truck to bring her to PDX.

On Wednesday, she’d been spayed. 

And it was now Thursday, and we were meeting her.

Sean and I took a few minutes to discuss pros and cons: We couldn’t get a real sense of her overall personality at the moment because she was clearly terrified and exhausted. But we’ve always planned to adopt a rescue, so we’re well aware of issues we may have to overcome. What we had seen was promising. She was sweet and curious, if a bit shaky. 

We took her home. On the drive there, we changed her name from Butterfly (named by the shelter) to Britton Bean. ‘Bean’ because she’s small and ‘Britton’ after my great-grandparents. They’d always been dog lovers and no one in the family had used the name elsewhere, and I think they’d have been delighted to find out our pup had their name. 

We got her home, and put her inside, and she sniffed around for a couple of minutes, then spotted the couch and LEAPED onto it, rolling around and digging at it in clear excitement. 

That answered our first question: She knew what a couch was. She probably hadn’t always been a stray. 

A couple of hours later, we had answers to other questions: She knew how to walk on a leash. She liked belly rubs. I had no doubt that before she’d been found in Fresno, she’d been somebody’s pet. 

For the next two weeks, she basically slept. Can’t say I blame her.

When she wasn’t sleeping, she was on watch. A few days after we got her, we took her for a car ride. She climbed right into Sean’s lap in the driver’s seat and stared out the window. She knew what a sweater was and liked to wear them. She knew to flop over to get her harness put on. 

When they’d found her in Fresno, she’d clearly recently had puppies. But she was found alone, and the guess was that the puppies had been weaned, and she had been dumped. Frenso’s got a bad habit of that. 

It didn’t make sense to me. She was two years old. If they’d only been using her for breeding, it seemed unlikely she’d be so good on a lease or want lap sits or know how to ride in a car. And while she was a bit skinny when we got her, she only had to put on a pound and a half to get back up to a good weight. Strays who have puppies tend to need to recover a lot more than that when they’re picked up by rescues. And if they’re lifelong strays, they don’t know how to walk on a leash or what lap sits are. 

Looking at our girl and knowing what I knew of backyard breeders, I did some research, and I came to a conclusion. Our deer-headed, big-eared, long-bodied baby was a Chiweenie. 

A Chiweenie is a “designer breed,” which is the nice way of saying someone got it into their head they had to further cute-ify dogs to their exact liking, and so they took a Dachshund and a Chihuahua and had them make babies. Now, where I come from, we’d call that a mutt, and there’d be an ad in the paper for free puppies. But since someone did it on purpose and gave it a cutesy nickname, puppies can cost up to $500 each. The fact that Bean was found on the streets with clear signs she’d had puppies but wasn’t skeletal? I’m pretty sure someone bred her specifically to sell her pups, and then dumped her when the pups were weaned. 

But prior to that? I think she was someone’s beloved dog. Like I said, she knew what a couch was. She could walk on a leash. She was housebroken. She knew how to signal to go out. She knew what sweaters were and how to ride in the car. 

I have a whole backstory of guesses of how she ended up at the Humane Society to come home with us, but I’ll skip that. Because what’s important isn’t where she was, it’s where she is, and that’s with us.

She is not without her challenges. She barks at nearly everything. She has separation anxiety (RIP living room blinds). We’re working on it. She crates well, thankfully, so we can keep her safe if we need to leave her alone, but we also have a dogsitter and try to take her with us on errands whenever possible. 

What’s good is that while these things are issues, they’re improving. The barking is toning down in a lot of places, and her separation anxiety is getting less prominent. I work from home now, so when I leave the house, she seems to think I’ll never return. If Sean leaves for work, she’s fine. If he comes home after work, then leaves again, she gets a bit moody but does all right overall. 

Even better is that the things we’re working on are changing. First, it was getting her to stop barking at every little thing. Now, it’s focusing on getting her to ignore other dogs walking by and getting her to stop threatening people dropping off mail and packages. But there’s a new twist: She barks for attention now. If we’re not giving her enough attention by her standards, she’ll come right up and bark at us. It is very, <em>very</em> annoying. But it’s also a good sign. She’s getting more comfortable, so she’s pushing boundaries to see what we do. 

We do what we always do: We work with her, then praise her when she acts appropriately. She had to go one-on-one for training, but she did great. She loved it. The trainer thinks that she’ll never be super buddy-buddy with other dogs in general, but it’s a real possibility she’ll learn to ignore dogs on walks and maybe even be able to make a friend or two over time. We’re seeing her ability to ignore other dogs already, and that’s damn good for less than a year’s work. 

She hates the cold, so we got her a warming stone for her couch nest, and the heating pad lives on her bed in front of the entertainment center. Her sweater collection grows almost every week, and she has three pairs of pajamas so far. She’s figured out that being out in the cold with the sun out is perfectly fine for a walk, but we’re still working on her accepting being out in the rain. She absolutely loathes the rain, but she’s a PNW girl now, so she has to deal. We don’t make her stay out longer than she needs to go to the bathroom if she doesn’t want to, and she has a little, fake grass patch on the porch so she can pee there in the middle of the night. 

She’s clever as hell. You put a hunting dog and a rat-catcher in the same body, it’ll happen. It’s led to pooping in the house in the middle of the night because she’s discovered if she doesn’t shake off before she does it, we don’t wake up to see if she needs out. 

She’s sweet as can be and loves treats. She also loves people once she’s gotten used to them, though she’ll still decide she needs to bark for five minutes when they visit. We took her to someone else’s house for Thanksgiving, and while she was overwhelmed at times, she mellowed during the night and was playing with her toy by the end of things. 

She gets a Puppacino once a week and knows when it’s happening. Her tiny claws are stabby knives of death, but we can’t trim them super often because her quicks are so long. She plays with her toys for about ten minutes at a time, and if she really wants your attention, she’ll get in your lap, stand on her hind legs, and lick your nose. 

She is a very good girl, and will likely live well into her teens. Right now, she’s curled on my lap to warm up her feet because we went for a walk. In a couple of hours, she’ll wake up and shake off and move back to the couch or come in and stare at me until I turn on the heating pad on her bed. If she doesn’t get her pill pocket at four, she’ll come and lick my nose.

[doberbutts]

i had a question, if you don’t mind. now, obviously they’re not well bred, but almost every chihuahua i see in rescues are dog aggressive or animal aggressive in general. i was under the impression that chihuahuas were chill little dudes who can vibe with anyone, is there a reason for that, do you think or just has to do with poorly bred dogs?

Part of the problem is that they are not chihuahuas. Yes, you heard me, they aren't chihuahuas or at least not purebred. How can a single breed account for the temperament of dogs of multiple breeds? How can a single breed account for temperament of dogs bred so against standard? Let me give you a visual:

This is the first page of chihuahuas available in Connecticut. Most of them say mix. Some of them say pure. I would say by visual identification only there are only two dogs I would say are potentially purebred, and neither of them are particularly well bred.

This breeder is where my girls are from. There is a big visual difference between these dogs, who I consider bred with care and with health and temperament coming first, and the dogs on petfinder. These are purebred chihuahuas that come from a good breeder.

So you can see why I feel it is unfair to compare the two. I don't doubt that these dogs have chihuahua in them, but I don't think it's fair to compare purebred, well bred examples of the breed to mixed breed, overbred, poorly bred dogs of unknown origin found in a shelter that are labeled chihuahua because they have a handful of chihuahua traits. Chihuahuas are one of the most common toy breeds out there so they are mixed with pretty much everything and still sold as pure.

But barring that:

Many many many toy breeds including and especially chihuahuas are not treated like actual dogs by their owners. They are often put into situations that are incredibly uncomfortable for them and they often are forced to rely on biting, snarling, growling in order to make the situation stop. Most are not socialized or even trained- many donlt even go outside to potty but are exclusively indoor dogs for months on end until their owner decides to drag their untrained, unsocialized dog somewhere. They're never taught boundaries because the idea is they're so small they can't do harm, but they also never have their own boundaries listened to. It's a game to many people (and, unfortunately, to many dogs) to deliberately pick on such a small dog until it bites. Over time, this turns into an animal that treats all approaches with animosity.

My girls, who have only known love and care, don't act like this because they are a companion breed bred deliberately to have companion temperaments, and because from the beginning they have always been treated like dogs. Chihuahuas are intended to be fiesty, not vicious.

Fae fires off every once in a while, a couple barks when she sees a person or dog walking, but is easily recalled and if she were to actually reach them she'd ask for pets and play. She does protect her space pretty well and has a fairly no-nonsense approach to her boundaries- she will play and get along with any dog of any size but does not want to be slapped or pounced unless that dog is also her size which is fair when you're only 5lbs. Tater is quieter in her approach but also has similar boundaries. Neither want to be trampled or squished and, again, fair when you're that small. Their boundaries are listened to and I advocate for them and thus they are delightful little dogs. They can be held and petted by anyone and will approach any dog with a wagging tail provided that dog is being polite/non-slappy/not pouncing.

Too many people say 'oh they'll sort it out themselves' and I'm sorry but what do you think a 3-5lb dog is going to do if a much larger dog makes it uncomfortable? Defense of self is always eventually going to kick in 🤷‍♂️ otherwise that's how you die in nature.

[popatochisssp]

Match up!

Likes: Fanfiction, Video games (especially fond of puzzle or story driven first person games like Portal or Fallout 4), Coloring/messing around on photoshop, Vines, critiquing the hell out of movies, my furball chihuahua, my mom and little bro, chai tea lattes, frozen blueberry waffles, tumblr, memes, cartoons (like Steven Universe, Gravity Falls, Miraculous Ladybug), tv shows (generally Sci-Fi, Supernatural/Paranormal, or competition based like anything with Gordon Ramsay or Doctor Who), Jigsaw Puzzles, Riddles, being lazy

Fav Season: Winter, Fav Disney Char: Stitch, Fav Candy: Hershey Almonds, Fav Color: Purple or Black

Dislikes: Bugs, Heat, Physical Labor, The Minions, Republicans, Too much Sun/Light (I’m a bit sensitive), Smoking cigarettes, weed is fine), Anti-vaxxers and other illogical people, Math

What are you looking for in a match?

I’m not sure exactly what I want as I’ve never been in a relationship really. I guess someone who is ok with me info dumping, being clingy/invasive, being a bitch a times - being ok with my flaws basically. I want someone who is Honest and and Communicates, someone who makes it clear what their intentions are, why they like me, and if their gonna stay. I would like someone who takes care of me but what I probably need is someone who knows when to kick my ass and make me do things. Someone who motivates or reminds me to take care of myself, that while they are ok helping me they wont let me push them around. I want someone who will will help me and be sweet but also will call me out on my bullshit.

Any dealbreakers?

If they don’t like my family (mom, my dog, bro) then it’s instant nope. They dont have to love them cuz yeah the fam has flaws but it’s one of those “only I can criticize them no one else” scenarios. If they hurt my dog in anyway their dead. If they smoke cigarettes their out or gotta swear to quite. I have asthma so it’s not negotiable and if their brother smokes that has to be out of my sight too or I will throw hands.

They have to understand that everyone has a backstory/issues and that doesn’t make them a bad person. Like my mom has done some shady shit due to paranoia and PTSD and will also do crazy things (like if me and SO get in fight my mom will show up even if it’s the dead of night to come throw hands or she will find blackmail so I can have an upper hand(she bugged a house of a guy she thought was cheating on her once)) like I dont agree with her often but unless the relationship is serious and been going on a while then I will take my moms side.

If they do milk than cereal that a no, I dont trust that.

Anything else I should know? 

I have Depression and anxiety so while they aren’t major issues anymore they should still be kept in mind. I have issues spending money in that I dont like spending money at all and will ignore needed things if it seems to pricey (aka over 20 bucks) so I need skelebae to buy things and either lie or tell me how much we saved or still have rather than how much things cost or else I get really guilty/anxious. I also have issues remembering to take care of myself like eating regularly, drinking water, leaving my house and going outside for once, and sleeping at normal times.

I dont care about cannibalism or murder as long as it is justified in a way. I have a realistic to cynical view and have questionable morals (I like to think of my soul trait as a slightly corrupted justice).

I am similar to a cat in that I will be bristly and standoffish at first but once I warm up to you you will be suffocated with affection and possessiveness. I can act selfishly without realizing it so it may not seem like it but my partners happiness is my number one priority. Im loyal to a fault and Also I have little shame and Privacy. I will often forget people dont have the same boundaries as me (aka near none) so I probably come off as very nosey and invasive. I like most form of humor but dont really laugh often mainly I make a pffffttt sound. Sometimes when I’m really happy I act silly or goofy so like I may seem kinda witty and serious but at my core I’m a goof.

I would match you with Mal (Swapfell Sans)!

He’s pretty much everything you’re looking for in a match: a clear communicator who’ll take care of you without letting you walk all over him. He doesn’t mind that you get excited about certain topics and may want to talk his nonexistent ear off and it’s probably for the best that you’re not hard on boundaries-- neither is he.

He’s from a very dangerous, deadly universe and he completely understands that morality isn’t such a clear-cut, black-and-white thing. He actually respects your family quite a bit for being willing to blur a line here or there to make sure you’re safe and looked after and he’ll do his best to prove they have no cause for concern: you’re in very safe claws with him!

Mal is the type to spoil his partner, so if what you need to allow that is for him to never let you see a price tag, then so be it. He has a good head for numbers and a strong work ethic to go with his well-paying jobs, so finances should never be much of an issue, he’ll see to that!

He also doesn’t mind too much if you’re slow to warm up-- he’s the same way and considers that a reasonable measure of caution-- but once you’re both warmed up to each other, the rest of your relationship will probably be an affectionately possessive cling-fest and neither of you will have a problem with it.

Oh, and expect surprisingly bad, goofy jokes out of him, too! He seems classy and sophisticated (and he is!), but...well, he’s a Sans, and he has a very soft spot in his soul for silly humor.

The two of you will get along great! ;3

[yourjughead]

A2

Sweet Pea x Reader Requested (kind of)

A/N: so I have a bunch of other actually defined requests to write but when this lovely sent this to my inbox I felt instantly inspired even if it wasn't a total request (maybe it was idk?) But anyway, thanks for your lovely words. I wrote this tonight in a half an hour so sorry if it's not great, I just had to write while the inspiration was still there.❤️

----------------------------------

“Can you please hold still ynn”

“Ughh it's so boooring Pea” you whined, forcing yourself to sit up on the stool properly again.

“Well it's not my fault someone ate my bowl of fruit” Sweet Pea turned to Fangs who was swinging back in his chair, with his hands up in defense. Fangs winked at you before Sweet Pea threw charcoal at him, getting a clean shot into his eye. He howled immediately as the both of you laughed. Sweet Pea looked at you laughing at Fangs and quickly snapped a picture, neither of you noticing.

“It'll be easier to draw from a reference who doesn't have the bladder of a Chihuahua” you glared playfully at his words and he took another picture.

“Well with that Picasso, I have to leave, Dad will be expecting me home soon”

“Oh Dad must not know you're sneaking around with your boyfriend and his delinquent friends?”

“I'm not sneaking Fangs, everyone knows I hang around with you idiots, unfortunately”

“Leave her alone Fangs, no one is sneaking” Sweet Pea ended his sentence by locking his sad eyes on yours.

“Yeah leave me alone Fangs” you mimicked playfully, kicking one of the supporting legs from under him, sending him sailing back. You made an attempt to see Sweet Peas charcoal drawings only to have he immediately squirrel them away upon your approach. You had just accepted it, you would never see any of his drawings unless by accident, even after almost two years dating.

~

With a few texts later that day asking you to model for his college portfolio for the night, you agreed to stay, enjoying any time you could with your boyfriend, and at his trailer? What an unusual occurrence. Recently his mom left and so slowly he was letting you into SunnySide more often, without that witch around to threaten you.

You sat on a stool in Sweet Peas trailer much like you did in Fangs house earlier, bored already. Sweet Pea however was completely enthralled and by 11pm had gone through many pages in many different mediums of art and silenced and repositioned you countless times.

“Sweet Pea I really have to go the bathroom pllleeaaase” he rolled his eyes but even he needed a drink at this stage. He sighed before releasing you from your duties.

You had been in Sweet Peas home a few times since his mom left but never beyond the kitchen or living room for any reason, so truth be told you opening the door into his bedroom and not the one into the bathroom, which laid adjacent, was a total mistake.

“Wait no!” His words came too late, you had already stepped inside the swirl of paper he called a bedroom. Art supplies and paper covered every inch of the room, reams and reams of paper, endless amounts it seemed.

“Oh my goodness, you're a hoarder! My boyfriend is a hoarder! I'm going to end up on the news!” you laughed lightly at the sight, Sweet Pea stepped between you and the door, your chests almost touching.

“You don't need to see in there, it's all rough drafts of sketches that never came to be...it's all waste paper….and i don't know my socks are probably on the floor” you raised an eyebrow before stepping back as he closed the door again.

“Okay okay, if you insist...can I have a drink?” He nodded in compliance and as he stepped from blocking your way you lunged for the door, bursting through and into what felt like pages of a book.

“Ynn!” he was definitely too late this time. You has seen the countless drawings, sketches, etches of you and your friends. Paint, chalk, pastels, pencil, watercolour, you name it and there were half finished creations everywhere.

“Are thes- are these me?” You just collected a random sample from his barely legible desk, he seemed immediately ashamed taking them from you only to have you quickly replace them with others.

“They're not done...none of them are, I can't quite get you no matter what I do...you must think I'm crazy” you were almost too busy looking at the intricate details to hear him. You separated your eyes from the pages to focus on the walls. They too were covered with pages but also pictures. Pictures of you and your friends, you on your own, you and him. You traced your fingers across a few of them with Sweet Peas eyes fixed on your every movement for any sign of negative expression. Instead you just seemed amazed at the sheer quantity and quality.

“Ynn please say something, I might be sick if you don't"

“I love them Pea, I mean you might want to try to draw a few objects for the portfolio as well as portraits but still, wow” you continued inspecting before separating a picture of the both of you from the wall, a smile on your face at the sight. It was the both of you on his bike, making little goofy faces at one another, your shoulders encapsulated by his Serpent Jacket. You could almost feel the winter chill through the ink. Toni really was talented at capturing the ordinary.

“This is my favorite photo...you should draw this”

“I don't know ynn, I've never done a self portrait and-”

“Then I'll draw you and you can draw me? Please?” He couldn't say no to you, rolling his eyes before searching for materials.

“Are you sure you have paper?” You teased and he threw a slipper at you.

“Hey! What's with all the throwing lately!” You smirked, clutching the photo and his slipper.

~

Soon the two or you stood over a table and an A2 sheet. It didn't seem to make sense to you to work separately, instead you both were leaned over the table drawing around each other. At one point Sweet Pea stood behind you, a hand propping himself up alongside one of your arms, the other busy etching on the other side. He was literally drawing around you and the feeling of his arms on either side of you made you feel safe, his warm breath on your neck sent electrical shivers down your spine. You both blocked in the world surrounding your figures in the photo, Sweet Pea especially loving your attention to detail on his precious bike.

“How come you don't draw more often ynn?”

“I don't really know, I guess I stopped liking the solitary aspect of it...I much prefer this” he agreed and you both continued at the masterpiece into the AMs, finally stopping when 3 reared its head.

The both of you stood back to admire your lovingly crafted piece. It wasn't perfect or as susynced in style as if one person did it, but it was yours. Your two different styles melting together to create something unique and beautiful, something you both loved.

“So...who gets to keep it?” You finally broke them comfortable silence of two artists admiring their work, for Sweet Pea it felt like it was the first time he's ever done that. His brow stitched together and he swallowed hard.

“What is it Pea?”

“I wa- how did you know there's something?” neither of you letting your eyes leave the decorated paper.

“It's almost like I know you or something? Funny that isnt it?” you bumped your side off his.

“Well see….well see I was just thinking about maybe if we both kept it?”

“What you mean like half it?”

“Well no...I mean what if you just moved in here...you know for the sake of the art” your head snapped to his, recognising the monumentale courage it took for this relationship shy guy to take this leap. You nodded eagerly, draping your arms across his shoulders and meeting him sweetly with your lips.

“Yanno, for the sake of the art” he chuckled softly, leaning his forehead against yours, his warm hands on your hips as he gently swayed you both.

“Although I don't know about sharing with a hoarder...and if you draw me while I'm asleep, that is crossing some Twilight level boundary and I will break up with you” you laughed and he returned the same.

~

Soon the trailer was filled with your things, you hung his art from the walls properly much to his displeasure, only agreeing to it if you did the same with yours. The trailer was becoming a home like no other, a studio, a safe space. Sweet Pea happily settling into this new step with you.

An A2 hanging on the wall.

------------------------

Xx

[ezatluba]

Why are small dogs so anxious all the time?

Are ankle-biters genetically anxious and annoying? Or are they just socialized differently than big dogs?

By MATTHEW ROZSA

AUGUST 8, 2021 

Happy little dogs are popular punchlines in Hollywood. In "There's Something About Mary," an annoying Border Terrier is repeatedly injured as the characters engage in slapstick antics, until the dog requires a full body cast. In the live-action "Scooby-Doo" movie, the diminutive Scrappy-Doo was so obnoxious that the rest of the group ultimately casts him out. Beyond the world of cinema, comic sketches mocking celebrities who carry Chihuahuas in their purses more often than not comment on the dogs' vocal behavior.

But are little dogs actually ankle-biting annoyances, or do they get a bad rap? And regardless of which answer is true, does the explanation for their stereotyped anxious behavior rest in nature or nurture?

"It could be a genetic association with small body size," Dr. James Serpell, an animal behavior expert at the University of Pennsylvania, told Salon by email as he listed the possible explanations for little dog behavior. "It could be because little dogs feel more threatened and defensive than bigger dogs and are therefore more likely to react aggressively. And it could be that the owners of small dogs are more protective of their pets and consequently fail to socialize them properly when they are young and impressionable. Or maybe it's a combination of all three."

Evidently, the stereotype of the preternaturally anxious toy dog is a subject that inspires debate among behaviorists. Dr. Erica Feuerbacher, who studies animal behavior at Virginia Tech, wrote to Salon that the information we have about little dog behavior is based not on precise quantitative data, but the anecdotal experiences of the people who know them best — their owners.

"Results from owner reports on dog behavior dog show that lighter weight dogs tend to be more excitable and energetic, and that could translate into barking more," Feuerbacher explained.

According to Feuerbacher, smaller dogs may tend to nip or show other aggressive behaviors because their owners are not properly raising them. This is where the "nurture" part of the equation comes into play; dogs, like humans, have to be socialized so they behave appropriately toward other people and animals. Yet this is no less true for a Pomeranian than it is for a Great Dane.

"Because they are small, having a dog 10 times their size approach them could likely be scary and they feel a need to defend themselves, which manifests as growling or snapping since this is how dogs communicate," Feuerbacher said. "Because they are small there's also a sense for some (not all) owners that they don't need to be trained and that they can be managed by simply picking them up, which you can't do with a barking Labrador retriever."

There is some scientific evidence suggesting that owners will treat dogs differently based on their appearance. A 2013 study by Italian scientists analyzed how strangers reacted to unknown dogs and learned that "passersby showed more interest toward puppies and interacted more with puppies and large dogs, and their handlers," as opposed to dogs with other features. This reveals that we do treat dogs differently based on their appearance (and size); it stands to reason that this influences how dogs behave around us. A child who is frequently approached with eagerness and interest will generally become more outgoing in adulthood; dogs, it seems, socialize similarly.

Likewise, the "cute" factor to small dogs makes humans interpret their behavior differently than they might the same behavior in a large dog. This leads to radically different psychological interactions. As Feuerbacher explained, not everyone realizes that smaller dogs who growl and show their teeth are stressed and uncomfortable — just as when big dogs do the same. Owners of small dogs may react as if this behavior is cute. But when smaller dogs are not trained how to react better in negative situations, they will not develop the maturity of a larger dog whose aggressive behavior is taken more seriously.

"A greater recognition that these behaviors are indicative of the dog not handling the current situation well, and being stressed would be really helpful to these dogs' welfare," Feuerbacher concluded.

Some experts insist that small dogs are not inherently nippy and loud, but are socialized that way. Dr. Catherine Reeve, an animal cognition expert at Queen's University Belfast, countered the notion that small dogs behave worse than larger ones.

"Small dogs are not inherently more aggressive or yappy than larger dogs," Reeve wrote to Salon. "Small dogs have a bad reputation for these behaviors because people tend to socialize and train small dogs less than larger dogs. People also tend to invade the personal space and disregard the boundaries of smaller dogs more often because they are 'cute' and people feel less threatened by them compared to, say, a large German shepherd."

Like Feuerbacher, Reeve said that people will often fail to effectively address behavior problems in smaller dogs because they do not feel the same pressures that they would from a big canine.

"A chihuahua that snaps at people is often observed as being 'funny' or 'grumpy,' but if it was a Malinois snapping at people, people tend to take this much more seriously and seek out help from a professional," Reeve pointed out.

She added that there is a fierce debate over how humans should handle aggressive dogs, adding that "science stands firmly on the side of force free training (no use of positive punishment, shock collars, prong collars, intimidation, etc.)" She added that she is entirely opposed to "the use of punishment to treat aggression in dogs," and says that "force-free behavior modification" is frequently very successful in treating aggression.