#dog movies with a happy ending

[pickleandthequeen]

I’m watching Far From Home: The Adventures of Yellow Dog for the first time in 20 years and anyway so far it’s holding UP

[kyouka-supremacy]

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[variousqueerthings]

I feel bad, because the man who laughs was a fascinating movie in which conrad veidt did absolutely beautifully, with a performance that went well beyond the stratosphere of silent film excellence at the time

but also I am going to go back and save every instance of someone calling for the dog in that film, because the dog is called "homo" and I did a juvenile little chortle every time I saw it in the titles

[fiftypiercings]

Is anyone up for a orv x wuliang fic ??

[karinaing]

I JUST REWATCHED PIWON MOVIE AND I HAVE THINGS TO SAY

[hereissomething]

just finished watching all of the 90s Ruby Spears Mega Man show with the wife and im so sad there isnt more. i love these doofy robots, esp Gutsman and Cutman who are totally married and Protoman and Dr. Wily bc Scott McNiel is hilarious

[reservoirreputation]

Dimples, Chapter Eight

Epilogue

One Year Later

Freddy repeats his daily ritual.

It’s a beautiful, mild day. A little cloud cover, sun regularly peaking out to say hi. Warm breeze. He cycles to the usual, sleepy convenience store. His stomping grounds are quiet, local, away from the highly touristy areas. These parts of the islands aren’t as well-cared for, as anyone who lives in a travel-destination or big city or coastal town etc. will attest to. The local government only cares about the pretty parts. It’s hard to believe that that is the case here, too, because all of Hawaii is gorgeous. Areas like this are where most of the locals live, as well.

Freddy and Larry initially kept their heads down. Found an inexpensive rental, made payments on time, didn’t wreck the property. It was a low bar to meet, but in keeping their noses clean, they make it. They buy local groceries, eat better and healthier than ever, even left smoking for once a week. Drinking is cut down, only one beverage a night. There’s so little stress in their lives, they don’t need such distractions.

Freddy’s daily trips to the store are two-fold; grab something they’ve run out of, which is occasional, to grabbing that morning’s paper, somewhat for himself, mostly to leave with having purchased something. The more the locals see them, and associate them with good, frequent business, and a smile or two, the better.

He smiles at the clerk, whose name he doesn’t know, and the clerk doesn’t know Freddy’s, which is same-old, same-old. He says a bright and cheery hello to an older woman, whose car Larry fixed up, last week. She asks what kind of cookies the man likes, intentions clear. Freddy says oatmeal, and she’s beaming.

He grabs the paper, money ready. “Keep the change.” On his bike, heading home.

Larry’s making breakfast burritos when Freddy walks in. The tortillas are warming over the griddle, veggies cooked and set aside, scrambled eggs nearly done. “Anything new?” he asks.

Freddy gives him a quick peck on the cheek. “About to look, myself.”

Larry turns his head for a proper kiss. Freddy grins, obliging.

Freddy sits down at their little kitchen table, opens the paper, goes right for the classifieds. He scans the page carefully. It’s been months since the last message, which was not unusual. There was no set schedule, so he just needed to keep a close eye on things. He spots it, towards the bottom right of the paper.

“Got ‘im.” he reads, “‘Violet sends regards to Creamsicle. All is well. Be in touch, soon.’”

Larry chuckles, setting the pan aside, “Where the hell does he come up with stuff like that?”

“No clue, Mr. Banner.”

Larry is leaning over, looking at the message for himself, “You think he’s coming to visit?”

“Who knows. It’s not like we have to do much to tidy up, around here.” Freddy says, referring to their distinct lack of personal belongings. It wasn’t unusual for people to move from the mainland with so little; it was lighter, cheaper, and you normally made a good chunk of change selling off your stuff, all going towards the move. Freddy looks up, “Don’t you want him to come over?”

Larry considers, “I’ll tolerate him.” he smirks, leans over and kisses Freddy’s forehead.

THE END

{Previous chapter}

https://www.tumblr.com/reservoirreputation/757458764122259456/dimples-chapter-seven?source=share

[tamaruaart]

The prince of Egypt is such a good fucking movie

[nellarw95]

Happy Birthday Jesse 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉

April 2,1988

Buon Compleanno 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉

2 Aprile 1988

[vestaldestroyer]

Bsd fans, I'm curious:

Tell me why in the tags!

[whumpy-wyrms]

Has Aspen watched Wolfwalkers before? I think he would absolutely love that movie :)

YESSSS YES YES ASPEN FUCKING LOVESSSSSS THAT MOVIEEE

AND SO DO I!!!!!!! like i’ve never seen that movie before but i’ve wanted to watch it for a long time and this ask FINALLY made me watch it and oh my god HOLY SHIT IT’S ONE OF MY FAVORITE MOVIES NOW. i literally JUST finished it and i don’t even know what to say besides this

i need everyone to watch this clip in particular because holy shit i cried during it /pos. like i can’t even describe how much i love this movie and how much it means to me just wow WOW it’s absolutely fucking amazing and i definitely recommend it to everyone. the animation is stunning i love the main characters and everything is just so EXPRESSIVE and the COLORS ANR AHHHH THE WOLVESSSS

Aspen loves it. it’s one of his favorite movies now too (maybe his favorite idk i’ll have to think of what other movies he likes) but guys i don’t even know what to sayyyy that movie is sooo good

thank you so much for sending this ask because wow i don’t know what it is with me and wolves now but wolves are COOL and i LOVE this movie i’m so happy i finally watched it!!! :D

[vanlegion]

"Let your heart guide you. It whispers, so listen closely."

Dear, sweet, Littlefoot, do you remember the way to the Great Valley?  I guess so. But why do I have to know if you’re going to be with me? I’ll be with you. Even if you can’t see me. What do you mean I can’t see you? I can always see you.

The Land Before Time(1988) dir. Don Bluth

[jeandejard3n]

101 Dalmatians: Happy Ending

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[kendyroy]

thinking about how this movie could’ve ended like any other superhero movie where they go their separate ways before teasing some future threat

but instead it ended with wade calling out logan’s name romcom-style, and them living a happy domestic life together with their newly adopted dog

[reservoirreputation]

Dimples, Chapter Seven

End

Later that night, Freddy hands in his badge. To protect Pink and Larry on the inside, he had to pick up those skills Holdaway had taught him, once more. It wasn’t the first time he’d stabbed someone in the back, either. The look the police chief gives would make most people cry, but to Freddy it’s worth it. His terms have been broken, the department made to look bad. Not quite as damaging as killing a civilian, but pretty fucking close. With his cardboard box of personal belongings, he makes his way through the office once more. Whispers have now given way to silence. For the second time in Freddy’s life, he’s a traitor amongst his peers.

In his car, he sits. Let’s the reality wash over him; it’s over. Life as he knows it is done. And he knows, while Pink and Larry are safe tonight, the courts will find a reason to drag them back in, soon. Freddy grips at the wheel cover, blood rushing-

-and he laughs.

It’s a month later. Freddy drops another, pitifully small box off at Mom’s house. His old childhood home. A lot of phone calls had been made, planning out carefully when the last day of his rental in LA was, if and what rent should be paid to her, and what was the grace period before getting another job. Well-documented, easily tracked.

Freddy told her he would be in LA for one more week, to sort out some errands in-person. Close bank accounts and the like. She was so happy when he told her of his decision. It only breaks his heart a little.

A few days later, before he’d make one more drive down to LA, he gets coffee with Wendy. It’s tense, to say the least. There’s attempts at small talk; watch anything good lately? New music you’re listening to? How’s that hobby of yours going? Oh, you’ve picked up knitting. That’ll be useful, gets pretty chilly up here.

A beat of silence.

“You hear about the murder trial?” she asks.

Freddy’s real calm about it, “Yep.”

“Maybe they can get something to stick, this time.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” he vaguely says. Let her take it how she will.

“It wasn’t your fault.” she lightly covers his hand. “Honestly, you have every right to be angry with everyone, including the department.”

“I’m not angry with them.” He lies, “I just knew the job was a dead-end for me.”

She searches his face, “What will you do, now?”

“Tie up some errands. Close this chapter for good.” He stares out at a trademark dreary San Fran day.

“It’ll be nice to have you around, more often.” she gives a small smile.

He can’t return it. “I’m afraid I’ll be downer company.”

“I don’t care.” she says, insistent. “I’d rather have you as a grumpy bastard than not at all.”

Freddy sighs, looks away, “While I’m gone, keep an eye on my Mom? She’s- really worked up, these days.”

“You’ll only be gone for a week.”

“Please?” he takes her hand, gives it a squeeze.

Wendy looks at him, and he’s a afraid for a moment she can read his mind. Instead, she smiles, “Alright. We’ll see you in a week.”

He ditches his car a half-mile away from the golden gate. He’s left a few meaningless items in the backseat. Let the cops make their lazy conclusions.

Freddy calmly walks in the early morning light. He waits for a few hours and some miles before he snags a car. Older model, won’t be missed. He begins his long drive down to LA.

Upon arrival, he buys new clothes with cash. He also buys some extra in different sizes. Out of the shop and away from prying eyes he double-checks his pocket. Back in the car, he checks his police scanner. Nothing new. Freddy finds a hotel for the night.

The next day, he gets up bright and early. Looks through his duffle, puts on his equipment. He listens to the scanner with an outward calm. His stomach’s doing flips, but he listens, anyway. He finally hears what he’s looking for.

“What the fuck?” Pink says, bewildered, “What the actual fuck- how the hell-”

“Don’t have much time. Hello to you too, Mr. Pink.” Freddy’s climbing into the back, keys in hand. He starts with their ankles, then hands.

Freddy’s back out, and Larry can see a car parked twenty feet off. Freddy grabs something from the cab, runs back over to them. It’s a bag, and inside are two sets of inconspicuous clothes.

“Change quick, leave the old shit here.” he says, breathless. Without hesitation, Pink and Larry follow.

“What was that back there?” Pink already has his clothes off, and Larry guesses the guy’s a sprinter in multiple departments.

“Crashed a car as decoy, hid until I saw the whites of the guy’s eyes, tazed the shit out of him.”

Larry thinks of the gunshot. He’s got the new shirt on over his head, “So what? You a cop killer now, Newandyke?”

Freddy stares at him, “No, driver shot me.” he lifts his shirt up, and Larry is expecting history to repeat itself, only to be greeted with a kevlar vest.

Larry’s so relieved, he could cry.

“And next time one of you fuckers is on a job, tell your future boss, I don’t give a damn who,” Freddy catches his breath, “Suit’s are cool as shit, but do fuck-all against bullets.”

Larry struts forward, and pulls the kid in. Freddy gives in, melting like ice. Larry still can’t believe the guy’s alive, when all his nightmares reminded him so cruelly of his actions. But, here, in the flesh, was Orange-

Larry scowls. Freddy sounds so much better.

“Come on, pricks!” Pink shouts, already in the getaway car. Larry and Freddy pull apart, but still run hand-in-hand.

Without missing a beat, Freddy backs out of the area, an open patch of land by the highway. No eyes in the sky, yet. Freddy explains, “Kept an eye out for your transport, with this.” he points to his trusty scanner, “Knew the time you left, expected arrival, and every cop knows the route, from jail to courthouse.” He keeps checking his mirrors, frantic to not miss a detail.

“I thought you went home?” Larry asks, in the front passengers seat.

From the back, Pink says, “Our lawyer said so. Won’t people know you’re down here?”

“Freddy Newandyke jumped from the Golden Gate, yesterday morning.” he says, frowning. “I’m not proud of it. But I don’t belong there. Not in any kind of ‘respectable’ society.” he trails off.

“Your Mom?” Larry asks.

“She’ll never know the real me.” Freddy sniffs, “I love her, but I can’t stay.”

Pink attempts to switch gears, “I hope you got spending cash, ‘cause we gotta lay low.”

“In my jacket.” Freddy starts, rejoining the highway, unusually clear. “Finished my job.”

An hour later, and the scanner’s going wild. LA is on lockdown, and they’re out of the city limits.

They stop at a fast food place, get some greasy burgers. Freddy leaves the name ‘Richards’, and Larry asks what’s his first name then?

“Certainly not Reed.” Larry doesn’t get the joke, but he’s happy for the kid.

They’re back on the road, as Pink and Larry wolf down the best burgers they’ve had in their lives. The stark contrast between it and prison food makes Pink cry tears of joy.

They take turns driving. Jack a car when one starts to run out of gas. They drive around, cover old ground, confuse the PD about where they could be, by now, had they just driven off into one direction, non-stop.

For three full days, they do this. Finally, they head south, for Baja.

With the sea, and a marina, in sight, Freddy lets them in on the next leg of the plan. “I know a guy, outstanding warrant, will do a favor to not be brought in.” He nods to a shifty-looking guy on a sea-faring yacht.

“What do we grease his palms with?” Pink asks.

Freddy pulls from his pocket a double-wrapped grocery bag. He unties the simple knots, revealing gems, cash, jewelry.

“What the hell is this?”

“I finished the job.” Freddy answers, unable to keep the grin off of his face.

“You dipped into our diamonds!”

“Not all from the original, but a little bit of everything in evidence.” he ties it back up, quickly. “Split three ways when we’re out at sea.” Freddy looks back at Larry, and smiles.

Larry realizes he’s been beaming like an idiot.

A day later, their captain, much richer, happily steers them out to sea. Hawaii’s the destination, and the trio, never taking their eyes off the captain, always eating and sleeping in shifts, talk about their next move.

“I know some old friends on the big island.” Larry says, “They can get us papers.”

“What then?” Pink asks.

“Retirement.” he simply replies.

“I’ll probably go on to Japan.” Pink says wistfully, “Always wanted to see it.” he turns to Freddy, “Now that you’ve pulled off your first real job, what are you gonna do?”

“One and done.” he says, “Have got enough here to set me up for life, and comfortably.”

“Where next?”

“I’m thinkin’ about that.”

Larry’s a little disappointed to hear that. Doesn’t know what else he was expecting. He sips from the wine cooler, and gets into the mind of eternal Summer.

It’s late at night, and Larry’s turn to keep watch. Pink and Freddy are supposed to be asleep, but both just lie awake in silence. After some attempts to let the rocking of the vessel lull him to sleep, Freddy rolls onto his side, facing Pink in the other bunk. “You awake?”

“Yeah.”

A moment later, “I feel bad admitting it, but,“ he bites his lip, “I don’t wanna lie; I only helped you because it would help him.” No need to elaborate on who ‘him’ is.

“Oh, I guessed as much.” Pink says casually.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re out, too.”

“That makes two of us.” Pink’s tone is light, not that Freddy can tell, right now.

“Why do you trust me? You’re the one who called me out.”

“When White told me that you’d fessed up, even with help right there,” he pauses, “I suppose it changed the complexion of things.” he thinks about it, “Giving our lawyer a head’s up about the strat you were going for, and turning on a dime to make sure we didn’t get killed-” he breathes out, “Only one who didn’t see what you were going for was White.”

“So, it’s out of pity?”

“No.” he glances over at Freddy, then back to the cabin’s low ceiling, “Respect.”

The moment’s so nice, and so drastically different from how their interactions were several months ago, that Pink just has to get in, “Besides, your puppy dog bullshit with White not only saved my skin, but got me my freedom. More than happy to be on this ship, right now, regardless of its rats.”

“Alright.” Freddy smiles, getting up.

“Ooh, got another! No point in looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

Larry looks over his shoulder, surprised that Freddy’s up, too. The wind is cold, the stars out in all their magnificence. Freddy’s in a jacket, beer in hand. “Mind if I join?” he asks.

“Don’t need an invitation at this point, kid.”

They are on the deck, the ocean rocking quite a bit, but the trio had quickly become accustomed to it. It’s the first time the two of them, however, have really been alone. Freddy steadies himself with Larry’s arm, wincing as he sits down, the bruise from that bullet likely smarting.

A silence falls, backed by the churning ocean.

“I’m sorry.” they both say. The two stare at each other.

“You don’t have to say shit.” Larry says firmly, “The breakout more than made up for it.”

“Your friends are dead because of me.” he replies, a little broken.

Larry looks out to the distance, where it is hard to see where the ocean ends and sky begins, “All my friends were killers. I can’t act like it’s somehow different.”

“I was the rat.”

The memory still makes him a little sad, “If you think there’s some invisible checks and balances between us, you’ve more than evened it out.”

“I hurt you.”

“I tried to kill you.” he looks over at Freddy’s dimples, “It’s done.”

Freddy looks down at his lap, “Are we, too?”

“Only if you want.”

They lock eyes. Everything goes quiet. “I’d follow you wherever.” Freddy says, breathlessly.

“You’re still young.” he smirks, “Sure you wanna spend your best years on me?”

Freddy reaches out, hand on the back of Larry’s neck. The answer’s in a kiss. Long, melting, swearing off the past. Larry holds him close, returning every ounce of affection. It’s everything he wanted it to be, and then some. It’s recognition. Freddy’s come back to him because within each other, they see something the rest of the world can’t. From two completely different backgrounds, goals and aspirations, to being entwined in the same fate. Cops and robbers? Might as well be two sides of the same coin.

Larry doesn’t need an answer in words.

{Next chapter}

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{Previous chapter}

https://www.tumblr.com/reservoirreputation/757458366484414464/dimples-chapter-six?source=share