#german dog

[cyb3rbv11y]

She looks like an arctic fox

[things-have-been-said]

Using my very limited amount of German: Deutschland ist sehr haha

wghatever the fuck this genre of tweet is i cant fucking stop saying mein scheiss Hund as a vocal stim

[koko2unite]

me and who

[sloppjockey]

ahoundoftongue. gouache watercolor painting on paper, 3x4 inches

[barkingwolfdog]

“f it we ball” BALL?? BALL??? BALL??? BALL???? THROW THE BAL???? THE BALL???? THE BALL?? BALL??? BAL?? THROW BALL?? THROW RHE VALL???? THE ALL?????

[sunanthrope]

Every time I see an obviously-queer middle schooler wearing a walmart Nirvana shirt try and discreetly stare at me, i remember why I dress like this. Every time I see some 7th grader with a pixie cut and a 'how to pass pre-t trans men' outfit trying to glance at me without seeming too obvious, or every time some 9th grader sees me in goodwill looking through the men's black T shirts for band tees, with a leather jacket or a pair of ripped jeans over my arm, and they come up and say they like my outfit. Every time I see a kid I could have easily been, who will easily grow up to be me.

It's not just for me. It's showing people who I used to be so similar to, that they can be themselves too. The same way 17 year olds showed me when I was 14, acting the same way they act, trying to be slick about watching what the cool goth girl in the thrift store was getting, so I could dress just like her when I grew up.

I got there. Now it's my turn to turn around and help others get here.

[rabidk9teeth]

sigh packs up my things and walks away fuck my stupid gay ass tail…..

[the-evil-clergyman]

Selene Thrown Down by Argus by Ferdinand Keller (1886)

[babyanimalgifs]

"Dude she said SIT"

(Source)

[strawberrylemongrass]

hiii!! can I come over and look at you like this!! :3

[dogposts]

on your mark.. get set.. go!!!

[miryum]

Simon Riley who, when you moved in with him, also had to adjust to your little dog. He loved dogs, as evident by Riley, but your dog was not like Riley. Riley was a war-hardened German Shepard that could sniff out bombs and had survived a bullet wound. Your dog looked like it would pee on the helicopter that was sent to rescue it and bark at the medic before rolling over for belly rubs.

Your dog was all bark and no bite. They were a small, fluffy little thing who you spoiled more than Simon. It took them a while to adjust to Simon, but when they realised that Simon laid heavily on the couch after deployment and was willing to be their personal pillow, your little dog reluctantly accepted him.

As for the dynamic between Riley and your dog, your little pupper was insistent that they were the boss of the house. They barked at Riley when first introduced as Riley just sat there, waiting for it to be over. Soon enough, though, your dog was curled up with Riley, cuddling. That always made you coo and take pictures of the pair, though Simon grumped that he’d rather have you pay attention to him.

Speaking of attention not on Simon, when the hell did your shared bed also become the dogs’ bed? When it was just Simon and Riley, Riley had his own bed and kennel in the living room. And Simon loved you so much. He was so fucking happy when you moved in. Hell, he was happy just to have you in his bed. Waking up with you tucked into his side, protected by him, was something he adored. It was better than heaven. But that heaven was usually interrupted by your scrappy little dog wiggling its way in between you two. He would turn around when you started petting and baby-talking the dog, only to see Riley at the foot of the bed, staring up at him. That’s how both dogs began sleeping in your shared bed.

You adored Riley just as much as you adored your own dog. You loved going on walks with Simon, the dogs on their leashes. Riley was a perfect walker, next to Simon the entire time with such military precision that you doubted the canine even needed a leash. Your dog on the other hand… they weaved all over the path, pausing to sniff and pee every half block. Simon wanted to train your dog like he had trained Riley, but you refused. “Oh, shush. Look at that little face! Perfect already, Si.” Of course, he could never say no to you.

Speaking of Riley’s training, however, Simon could tell that his dog was slowly slipping farther and farther from his strict regimen. With the excessive treats that you slipped Riley, the dog was gaining some chonkiness, just as his owner. As his deployments got further and further apart and his retirement got more and more likely (perhaps because of the ring in his dresser drawer), he allowed himself to stay in bed longer with you rather than getting up to exercise in the wee hours of the morning. You didn’t mind, obviously. You liked the softness that Simon was acquiring and he was always a big man to begin with. Just because his tummy was becoming more squishy didn’t mean that he still couldn’t throw his weight around if someone was bothering you.

Simon, combined with Riley, allowed for ‘scary dog privileges.’ There was a time when a creepy man began following you when Simon was on deployment and you were walking Riley. Your own little dog was getting their hair cut, so it was just you and Riley. You noticed something was wrong when Riley’s ears perked up and his movements got a bit more robotic. You glanced around, knowing Riley’s instincts were never wrong. After seeing the man, you decided to head back towards the edge of the park, where more people were. When the man didn’t give up, though, and got even closer, Riley went full guarddog. He stepped closer to you and turned around to face the man. After a few loud, thundering barks that drew the attention of everyone around, the man scuttled away. Later that month when Simon was back home, both dogs cuddled up to you on the bed, he didn’t know whether to be mad that you didn’t tell him immediately (though he could never get mad at you) or to be proud that Riley protected you so fiercely. Anxiety and fear rushed through Simon, but you calmed him with a small kiss and Riley set his head on Simon’s stomach. Riley definitely earned the scratches behind the ears that he got.

Most dog owners took their dogs out for one last pee before bedtime and Simon was no exception. You always made Simon take the dogs out because you were usually cuddled up in bed or in the blankets all cosy. He never once complained, either tugging on his jacket if it was windy out, or pulling on a hat if it was raining. He would do anything for you, even if it meant braving thick snow that crept into his boots. Riley always went quickly, even though both owner and dog knew that he could withstand the freezing temperatures. Your little idiot, on the other hand, would take their merry time, sniffing and trailing around the yard (which you had asked for when you and Simon moved out of his apartment and into a real house on the outskirts of the city). There were even times when another dog would be walking by and your canine would bark and run after them. Simon was always quick to jog after and scoop the dog up. Once in a while, Riley would give a deep bark as well, as if telling off your dog. Simon would then trudge back into the house, muttering curses under his breath, your dog under his arm.

But, as much as he pretended to hate your dog, there was always a soft spot there. Soon enough, “my girlfriend’s” dog became “my wife’s” dog and then “our” dog.

[justshipsandstuff]

The people want to see Mithrun’s second life (me, I’m people)

Inspired by this post. Mithrun having service animals is just perfect! Can’t believe I never thought of that. He always has a big team caring for him but in Melini, he needs to manage on his own at times when he’s not working and Pattadol is busy

[disease]

"CHRISTIE BRINKLEY & WHISKEY" CHRIS VON WANGENHEIM // 1977 [archival pigment print | 69 × 46"]

[gentlenmensarts]