#it has one of those annoying yappy barks

[canaryarrow]

We have a new neighbor that just moved in last week and her dog has literally not shut the fuck up since

#listen I LOVE dogs #and I get my apartment building is old and the walls are thin #like we’re all gonna hear each other at some point and that’s fine #BUT THIS DOG #it has one of those annoying yappy barks #and when it starts barking IT DOESN’T STOP FOR LONG PERIODS OF TIME #like this dog has literally been barking for nearly 30 minutes straight now #and it’s been like this every day AND I’M ALREADY OVER IT #but at the same time I don’t wanna be an asshole #anyway…just needed to vent lol #Morgan for ts

[oldbutnotyetwise]

Noise

      I’ve been thinking about noise a lot lately, it is almost like I am drowning in it.  Moving to the city after living in the country is a big adjustment.  Noise in the city is relentless, it never stops, it may lessen a bit sometimes, but it is always still there. 

     Buying a Condo two blocks away from a Fire Station means you are going to hear a lot of sirens. 

     Let’s start with a short rant here, Car Alarms, I had forgotten about them when I lived in the country but within a day of living in the city I was sure reminded of them.  Can we not as a world population just agree that they don’t work.  They constantly go off for no apparent reason, so much so that people don’t even bother looking to see where the alarm is coming from anymore.  Here’s an idea, lets just stop putting them in vehicles and disconnect the ones already installed, we can all agree that they were a total failure.  Now if we could segue  from car alarms to backup alarms on commercial vehicles.  I agree a good idea, warn someone of a vehicle backing up so they don’t get hit or run over, but can we talk about the volume?  I am two blocks away and twelve floors up and you sound like you are on my balcony.

     The other day I listened to someone nearby using a chainsaw all day as he cut down a tree.  My neighbour in the country used a chainsaw frequently but there he was much farther away and the sound didn’t bounce off of all the buildings.  In the country it was almost a soothing sound, but in the city it was a day long annoyance.

     In the country I rarely used my vehicle horn, and if I did it was just a quick beep to get my neighbour to pull his head out from whatever equipment he was working on so he could return my wave.  In the city the vehicle horn is used very differently, it is a weapon, it is a loud form of swearing at someone, an outlet for the anger of an already frustrated and agitated driver. 

     What about the cars and the motorcycles with their radio blasting out the driver’s musical selections?  I don’t know about you but I hate Rap Music and getting stuck beside someone playing that while stuck at a red light is a form of torture for me.  What, what’s that you say?  Well yeah, okay so maybe I did that in my teen years too but that was different because I was playing Supertramp, The Eagles, Queen, Fleetwood Mac and so on.  I was providing a public service when I was playing that music loud enough for others to hear because that was great music.  Yes, you’re right, I should probably just move on to the next point.

     Let’s talk about loud exhausts, you know the kind.  The I ride a Harley and I want everyone to know it.  “It has a loud exhaust but that is a safety feature so people hear me coming”…..sorry guys no matter how many times you try to sell that line I am not buying it.  The loud exhaust is just something that forces people to look at you and that is something that you seem to need.

     The opposite end of the scale to loud motorcycles is those annoying small cars that the kids are souping up and have that loud whiney exhaust noise that is both loud and annoying.  Yes kid everyone within a five block radius loves to hear the sound of your car as you drive down the road.

     I like almost all dogs, I certainly tend to like dogs more than dog owners,  Living in a city you will have to deal with barking dogs.  There is a small yappy dog that lives across the street from my Condo.  The people let the dog out around six a.m. at which time the dog barks constantly for 20 - 30 minutes, this pattern repeats itself throughout the day and up until around ten p.m.  I am at a loss to understand why someone would think it’s okay to let your dog bark constantly disturbing so many people around you.  I blame the people here, not the dog, I actually feel sorry for this annoying little dog who probably knows no world outside of their house and backyard.  

     How about some classic Noise Pollution?  The leaf blower, yes I admit that they work but damn are they annoying.  I know they aren’t as efficient, but couldn’t we go back to the days of rakes and brooms?

     How about the drunken idiots or couples walking down the street in the early morning hours yelling at each other, waking up all the sleeping people and sharing their well developed knowledge of swear words.  

     They are right up there with the people having a phone conversation using blue tooth, I can’t be the only one who answers the person next to them in a grocery store when they say “Hey, how you doing?”  Of course after you answer they turn and look at you all annoyed before marching off and continuing their conversation with whoever they called on their bluetooth.  Yes, yes, rest assured we all love hearing half a phone conversation of someone as important as you.

     In a big city there is always traffic, three, four, five o’clock in the morning you can still hear it, it never ends.  I wonder when the last time people in the city heard absolute silence, would it be as disconcerting for them as all this city noise is to me.  

     My wife Robin and I took her son Jack out for dinner the other day.  We sat on an outdoor patio and I couldn’t help but notice how comfortable Jack was.  I on the other hand was sitting there a bit overwhelmed by the traffic noise from the busy street during rush hour, racing engines, car horns, add to the all the regular city noise, patio music being played too loud and the loud voices from fellow diners.  Jack didn’t seem to take any notice of all the noise, he seemed comfortable, almost at peace.  I wondered if living in the city he had built up an immunity to it all.  I on the other hand was in a bit of an auditory overload.

     My sister-in-law who lives in Toronto stayed with us when we lived up north and the first morning she complained about all the noise the birds made in the early morning hours, they had woken her.  Yet I bet she would have just slept through all the city noise because that is what she is used to.

     One type of city noise that I hear, and I like to hear is the sound of a distant train whistle in the early morning hours.  There is a comfort to me in hearing a train whistle as it goes through a crossing, a train going somewhere, passenger train or freight train I don’t know.  The sound of a train in many ways is the sound of the past, a simpler quieter time, or maybe I’m just romanticizing it a bit.  

     Another sound I like in the city is the sound of church bells ringing, for some reason the sound of church bells always make me pause and listen to them.  Each time the the bell chimes, I pause waiting for the bell to chime again, and when the chiming stops I feel slightly sad for a moment before continuing on with my day.

     Perhaps one person’s noise is another person’s comforting sounds, and vice versa.  Maybe one day I will adjust to all the noises of the city, maybe I won’t notice the cornucopia of city noise that are like fingernails on the chalkboard to me now.  I don’t know if that is something I should look forward to or if it is something I should dread.

     What sounds cause you instant irritation and what sounds bring you comfort, sounds you find soothing or that help you relax? 

[obiternihili]

One of our dogs has a far more... agreeable? personality than the other.

The girl is very affectionate, playful but independent enough to play on her own, intelligent enough to learn from watching, figures out games quickly, is relatively quiet, doesn't really fight things happening around her.

The boy is affectionate but differently; she understands that you have sit still to be pet, and she tries to return gestures of affection, whereas it's hard to even pet him because he just starts to thrash about around your hand. He's pretty dim, a very slow learner, and we're not sure if he's partly blind because he has a lot of trouble tracking thrown things or associating sounds with moving things or so on. We've taught them fetch; he grabs the ball then runs inside with it to thrash before coming back without it expecting it to be thrown, while she picked up within a week or two that you need to bring the ball back for it to be thrown again. It took him a while to understand doors, she got them instantly. It took him awhile to understand stairs and the concept of a second floor, she got them instantly, he still doesn't seem to understand them. He was hard to potty train, she was instant. She knows about going in corners, he doesn't. Give her a treat and she knows you bite down to take it; give him a treat and he doesn't seem to know that he needs to take it to take it. They took classes, and she's done more in 2 months than he's learned in 3 years. He's yappy, barking at every little trigger, including sounds made right by him, which he can't triangulate at all so he goes running outside. He throws tantrums too; everytime I take the trash out or put something in the recycling bin, he starts barking at me, like he's yelling at me and trying to make a detailed, multipoint argument. Lately he's started yelling at me even when I'm not the one making the recycling bin rolling noise, which I think he thinks is thunder. His voice also sounds like sneakers on a basketball court squeaking, which isn't helping anything.

But it's like, none of that's really his fault. None of that's really anything he can help. It's obviously not right to withhold affection or not want to be around him just because of that.

There's a lesson in that that's been obvious to me forever. It just feels pretty, idk, salient at the moment, and like I could spin it into a thought worth sharing in a philosophical kind of way, for someone to make something better out of. Like, at a certain level, he's like a young child. You don't just give up on a child because you don't like them, some children end up being more difficult personalities for random reasons, etc. You can extrapolate it like some kind of life lesson for dealing with even adults in the world, and how everyone's going to be at least partially annoying, and how you can't really choose the people who come into your life even if you can control those who leave, and so on. Like don't put up with abuse, but put up with your friends being obnoxious, forgive them for being imperfect, try to lead them to being better. But understand it like with the dog - you're not gonna do that through explicit learning most of the time, and implicit learning is extremely slow, painful, difficult, and not always possible. You can't expect anyone to meet your expectations except yourself, and even that's doubtful you're keeping up a moral treadmill on yourself.

But I want to make it mean something. Like an intentional lesson actually taught by lesson giver, instead of just random bullshit that you have to accept. But I can't really. There's no real reason for it having to be that way. You could be respectful and withdraw if you like and just not deal, although you're going to have to deal with your loneliness or whatever. It's not that the dog is there to teach you a lesson explicitly. It's not really a matter of responsibility because there's no duty-giver, it's just either *you* provide a shelter for him or no one will. *You* play with him or no one will. *You* love him or no one will. And despite that it's not about you, it's not about him, no one is really there to shape the other.

Like, you're not really a better person for learning this, you're just not a worse person.

#woof

[lovemesomesurveys]

“she acts like summer and walks like rain”

The power goes out. What are three things that you have taken for granted? I mean, it depends how long it goes out for. I’ve only experienced that for a couple hours at most from what I can recall, so. Although, the worst to me is when it happens for any length of time during the summer because it instantly feels like a sauna in my house and it’s absolutely miserable. D: It happened a few times this past summer during a heat wave with triple digit temps... not fun. But yeah, that’s the only thing that really bothers me from my experience. I just mess around on my phone, play Animal Crossing, read, or just chill with the fam. My dad acts like it’s the end of the world lol like a couple minutes in he’s like, “what are we going to do for food?? I think we might have to get a hotel or something, we can’t stay here with no power.” lol.

Have you ever done the Polar Bear plunge on New Years? I’ve never done it and never would. Nooo thanks. I don’t swim or get into the ocean, lake, or river for one, for two, diving into freezing cold temperatures sounds horrific. It’d probably shock my body and kill me.

Name lyrics that include the word "baby" in them. “Oh baby, you got what I need, but you say I’m just a friend.”

You get to choose your middle name! It must begin with the letter H. Nah.

Have you ever had a Halloween party? Yeah. I had one when I was in like 2nd grade and invited kids from my class over. I had a few smaller, more just like hangouts, with my cousins or friend as well. The most recent was like 4 years ago. I’ve been to more Halloween parties than I’ve thrown, though. 

Would you rather have a plant cactus or venus flytrap? A cactus.

Are you better at crosswords or word searches? I love word searches. 

Would you rather have a water balloon fight or a paint ball fight? I’ve only had water balloon fights, back when I was a kid. I wouldn’t want to have either one now. Running around and getting hit with stuff just doesn’t sound fun. I don’t have the energy for all that. Also paint ball fights sound especially painful.

Do you like being told what to do? In some cases I might need a little push or can’t decide on something so I’ll sometimes ask someone what I should do. Doesn’t mean I’ll listen, but it can be helpful. I don’t like when someone tells me what to do as a command. I’m super stubborn, so being told to do something just makes me not want to do said thing even more, even if I already planned on doing it.

What would you do if you were attacked by thugs? If I was attacked by anyone I wouldn’t be able to do a whole lot.

Do you have a favorite word? I can never think of one on the spot when asked.

On what circumstances would you break up with someone? If they cheated on me I might, but I can’t say for sure. It would depend on a few things. I’d also like to think I would if there was abuse. I feel like I would, but I’ve never been in that situation and I know it’s not always that simple.

Have you ever been kicked out of a store? No.

What's your worst subject? Math was always my worst subject.

What are 3 things that make you happy? God, my family (including my doggo), and vacations.

“baby, let me be your last first kiss”

Have you ever been pampered? I get my hair done fairly regularly (not so much now... I can blame covid this year, but let’s be real the past few years I started slacking). 

Are you going to force your kids to be in activity or let them choose? I don’t want to have kids; however, IF I did, I wouldn’t force them to. I would certainly encourage and support, but it’d be their decision. If they didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t push it. It should be enjoyable for them, not torture.

Do you watch Toddler and Tiaras? Nah, I never got into that.

What was the last band t-shirt you bought? Nirvana. 

If someone asked you to go to war today, what would you say? Uh, no???

Are you passionate? I feel like I haven’t been passionate in years. Like, even things I like I don’t get as excited about like I used to. I just feel unmotivated and deflated. 

Do you usually get nervous before taking a test? Always. I had major test anxiety.

True or false : Your middle name begins with the letter J False.

Are you more comfortable in public or in your house? Most definitely in my house. This is my safe, comfortable place where I’m not judged. My self-esteem has always been crap, but these past few years it’s been even worse. I’m very self-conscious. I also just don’t like being around a lot of people. 

Do you own an old vintage typewriter? No. 

Do you hate how dogs bark every time someone comes to your house? No, I want my doggo to do that. She’s not excessive about it, though. And she’s not a little yappy dog that barks when an ant walks by lol. My neighbor’s dogs bark a lot, feels like it goes on forever and it’s annoying. 

What's a commercial that you cannot stand? I don’t pay much attention to commercials.

Mountain Dew or Dr. Pepper? Dr. Pepper. 

Do you say "mate?" like Hello, mate! No.

What makes you rate a survey? I don’t rate them. I decide if I’m going to take a survey by skimming over the first few questions and seeing if they’re of interest to me and if I’ve already done it before (well, at least to see if I’ve done it recently).

“I can’t explain loneliness”

Do you drink Mountain Dew? I haven’t had it in probably like 10 years. I used to love the red and blue one. Oh, and I liked the AMP energy drinks Mountain Dew used to(?) have.

How many weddings have you been to? Three. 

When you smile, are you confident? No.

Have you ever not done something because you were afraid of getting in trouble? Yeah.

Was the weather beautiful today? It’s finally been feeling like fall, which I love.

Do you have to have a fan on when you sleep? Yes. During the hot months I have 3 going at all times in my room. I still have 2 of them going even though I’ve been needing a blanket now. I love it, though. If I turned them off I know I’d get warm again. I’d love to have it be cold and need a blanket year round.  Would you rather have an orange, red or gray bedroom? Out of those, I guess gray.

Would you ever dye part of your hair blue? No. I dye my hair red and I just want to keep it that color.

Have you ever gone to a private school? My UC is.

Is Finding Nemo a favorite movie of yours? No, but it’s cute.

Does/Did your school have a uniform? My preschool did. Turn on the TV. What channel are you on? It is on, it’s on MTV.

Does your house have security cameras? Yes.

What's your favorite Another Cinderella Story? The one with Hilary Duff.

Does a popsicle sound good right now? No. I’m not a popsicle kind of gal.

“0 of your friends are online - yup, I feel like a loser.”

Do you drink more water or juice? Definitely water. I don’t like juice, so I never drink it.

Sweater weather or tank top weather? Which do you prefer. Tank top weather all the way, no competition. I hate summer. I also don’t wear tank tops. 

Do you always carry a purse with you? Not lately. The other day was the first time I had one, well it was my Baby Yoda mini backpack, in several months.

Do you update your Facebook relationship status when it changes? It’s never changed since making my Facebook in 2008 :X Joseph and I had our thing, but it wasn’t an official relationship. If I were to get in a relationship I wouldn’t rush to make it Facebook official cause who cares, like that wouldn’t be my first thought, but I could decide to change it at some point. Ha, maybe I would do it right away cause it’d be so surprising and shocking that I’d have to share it with everyone lmao.

Have you ever kissed a Zachary? Nope.

Do you hate when people try to embarrass you? Uh, being embarrassed certainly isn’t fun... I wouldn’t want someone to purposely try and embarrass me. Do you like in October when a bunch of haunted places open up? I like October for many Halloween-related reasons, but not for ghost walks or haunted houses - those aren’t really my thing. <<< Same, I don’t do all that.

Did you tell someone you loved them today? No.

Do you watch the show Ghost Adventures? I’ve never heard of it before. I’ve heard of Ghost Hunters - my father enjoys that show. <<< Ha, my dad really likes one of those as well; I forget which one. I’ve never gotten into shows like, though. 

When it's dark, do you always tell someone to drive safe? No.  

Are you love sick? No.

Do you want your own house someday? My family and I do. We’ve only ever rented.

What color are your curtains in your bedroom? Dark blue.

Are you superstitious? I do the knock on wood thing, but I think it’s just habit now.

Is there a cat in the room you're in right now? No, I don’t have a cat.

“it only takes a second to fall in love”

Have you ever read the book The Guardian by Nicholas Sparks? Nope.

Have your parents ever said you're ruining your life by dating someone? No.

Are you excited for anything? I’m looking forward to starting my Christmas shopping.

True or false : It's past 9:22 PM True, it’s 2:43AM.

Do you hate when artist change their music? No, not necessarily. It can be cool to see them try different genres. Does your house have a doorbell? Yep.

Would you ever name your car? *shrug*

What's worse : Two-faced people or fake people? Isn’t that the same thing?

Are you wearing a necklace? No. I haven’t worn a necklace in years.

Have you ever saved someone's life? No. Do you hate when your makeup smears? I always hated how my eyeliner smudged in the corners. I say “hated”, past tense, because I haven’t worn any makeup at all in like 3 years.

Are you good at giving advice? I think I kinda used to be, but not now. I was the one friends always came to. I used to also participate on teen message boards when I was like 12-14 and tried to offer advice and resources to people when I could. Sometimes I IMed with people who needed advice, too. That’s when I knew I wanted to help people in some way and it was in high school when I discovered what psychology/ a psychologist was. I majored and got my BA in it, too... now it’s just collecting dust and I don’t want to purse it anymore....

Have you gotten into any fights within the past week? No.

How often do you go to the kitchen? I don’t know.... probably like a handful of times. 

Are you strong? Nope. Not mentally or emotionally, and certainly not physically.

“bring her back to serendipity”

When you choose your golf ball for put-put, what color do you pick? I’ve never played.

Have you ever ate the tip of a pencil? The eraser. No...

When was the last time you wore earrings? I got cute rose gold Minnie Mouse ones for Christmas last year and wore those for a couple months until they started messing with my ears for some reason. It was weird because it was like they were getting sucked into the hole? I’ve never had that happen.

You can dye your hair red or neon green. You pick? I already dye it red.

How many Juliet's do you know? I don’t know any.

What's your current mood? I don’t feel well.

What time is it? 2:55AM. Do you own any colored pants? No.

What color of eye shadow do you wear? I haven’t worn eyeshadow in several years.

Hamburger or steak? Hamburger, definitely. I don’t like steak.

When was the last time you ran through a sprinkler? Not since I was a kid.

Can you do a cartwheel? No.

Do you believe you have the perfect parents? No one is perfect, but my parents are quite amazing.

Do you own any Converse? I still have one pair. I used to have a few.

How tall are you? 5′4.

“Right now, I just wish you were here.”

Would you ever try a workout video? Or have you? Maybe a fun dance one if it involved a lot of arm movements that I could do. Do you like your ice cream in a cup or cone? It’s gotta be a cup or waffle bowl for me cause I take too long to finish my ice cream and it gets super messy otherwise. 

Are fireworks your favorite things ever? I like how pretty they are, but I definitely don’t enjoy the sound that they make. <<< Ugh, saaaame. I hate the sound.

Is your cat orange? As I’ve said, I don’t have a cat.

Is anything in the room your in striped? My Adidas have 3 stripes on both sides.

What song do you hear playing? I’m not listening to music.

Have you ever found a four leaf clover? Yeah. Back in elementary school we used to hunt for ‘em on St. Patrick’s Day.

Do you think you've been in love? I believe so. Twice.

Have you ever read Romeo and Juliet? In the 9th grade, we were required to in English class. <<< Yep.

Were you ever in the plays in school? No.

Whose eyes do you have? Pretty sure they’re my own. Haaaa. My eyes are the same color as my mom’s. 

When was the last time you bought a pair of new shoes? I haven’t bought my own in a long time. I often get a new pair for my birthday and/or Christmas from my parents, usually my dad. He’s a total shoe guy, so he likes to buy shoes quite a bit for himself and as gifts for my family and I.

How many gray shirts do you have? I don’t know; a few.

Have you ever cried because you missed someone so much? Yes. Especially after the death of loved ones.

Do you hate waiting for things? I’m very impatient. Waiting makes me nervous and anxious.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[ghostbustermelanieking]

monster dog

summary: Fox Mulder and his unlikely rivalry with a Pomeranian.

part of my series of fics i’m writing as i rewatch the x files. spoilers for the list, 2shy, the walk, and nisei/731. dedicated to banjo, my Pomeranian mix, whose life i plagiarized for this fic. 

They’ve taken to sharing cars everywhere when they go on cases - rental cars, driving to locations too close to fly to, driving to the airport. Mulder picks Scully up in the morning, on the way to the airport to head to the prison in Florida. He brings her a bagel in a white paper bag and uses his key to let himself in, because if he knows Scully, she won’t be ready for another ten minutes and their flight isn’t for another hour. They’re used to this, they’ve been doing this since last May, since his father and Melissa. But he’s caught off guard this time.

Usually, he calls out when he lets himself in so he doesn’t startle her. But he’s startled by the snarling and yapping from inside. Mulder shoves the door open, irrationally fearing some kind of werewolf for a split second. He finds, instead, a tiny ball of orange fur dancing around the floor and barking fiercely at him, white teeth exposed under grimy pink gums.

“Mulder, is that you?” Scully shouts from somewhere deep in the apartment.

Mulder suddenly realizes that this isn’t some kind of werewolf (although he’s not sure it’s not dangerous; it did eat a human after all, dead or not). It’s that Pomeranian thing she adopted after the psychic case. “Yeah, it’s me,” he calls. “Scully, I don’t think your dog likes me very much.”

Scully appears out of the bedroom, already dressed, hair wet around her cheeks. “Queequeg, hush!” she scolds in a tone Mulder’s heard all too many times. It takes him a second to realize that she is addressing the dog, who quiets, huffs, and jumps up onto the couch. “Sorry about that,” she says to Mulder, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m trying to keep him from barking every time someone comes in, but considering the apartment’s habit of getting broke into, I think it could be helpful.”

Well. It’s hard to argue with that, but it didn’t make the sound any less annoying. Most alarm systems are quiet unless there’s a burglar. “He’s very yippy,” says Mulder.

Affection fills her voice, the type he’s only ever heard towards kids they run into on cases: “Yes, he is.” Scully scratches Queequeg on the head. “Fifteen minutes, I swear. I just need to dry my hair.” She starts into the bedroom and Queequeg scrambles off the couch and follows her across the floorboards, right on her heels, toenails clicking on the floorboards. (Another annoying sound.)

Raising an eyebrow, Mulder sits on the couch, flipping on the TV. There’s nothing good on at eight in the morning, of course. And next on Bizarrely Domestic Scenes With My Partner, he thinks wryly.

The tea kettle whistles shrilly, and Scully yells, “Can you get that please?” He abandons the TV and pours two cups, automatically fixing Scully’s the way she likes it, before heading into the bedroom. Queequeg lies in front of the bathroom door, nose on his paws, and he glares at Mulder suspiciously when he knocks on the door. Scully sticks her head out and grabs the mug, thanking him.

“Your dog seems to be stalking you,” he says, pointing at him.

“He’s very clingy. I suspect it has to do with the loss of his last owner.”

“Didn’t that dog eat his last owner?” Mulder looks down at the fuzzball.

She makes a face. “I’ve got to finish up in here, Mulder.” The door closes. Queequeg whimpers and paws the crack in the door.

“He could be staking out his next prey, Scully!” he calls through the door. The hair dryer switches on, effectively quieting any further conversation.

Mulder figures as long as he’s going to be sporadically showing up at Scully’s apartment that he should make peace with the beast. He kneels and reaches out to pet him. Queequeg growls fiercely as soon as his fingers get close. Well, okay then. He sits on the edge of Scully’s bed and drinks his tea.

Scully exits the bathroom a few minutes later, automatically brushing her hair. Queequeg follows her across the room. “So what’s your theory?” she says, reaching for her cross on the bedside table.

He crosses his ankles. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You mean you’re buying into the reincarnation story?” Her fingers scrabble at the nape of her neck, fastening the gold chain.

“Scully, do you know me at all?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just seems a little farfetched, that’s all.”

“We’ve seen cases of reincarnation before, you know. Remember that little girl, Michelle, who was taking out the people responsible for that cop’s death?”

“There was never any substantial proof of that.”

“Yes, there was, Scully, you saw…”

The doorbell rings and the dog goes into a barking frenzy, charging the door. Mulder jumps. “That’s the dog sitter. Queequeg, hush!” Scully shouts, going after him and scooping him up.

“You’re leaving that monster dog with someone else? Scully, how could you do this to that poor sitter?” He trails after them into the living room.

Scully tucks the dog under her arm, shoots him a glare and a, “You shut up,” before opening the door to reveal a girl with braids. “Hi, Ms. Scully,” she says meekly.

“Hi, Molly. Thanks for doing this. You have a crate at your house, right?”

“Absolutely. Hi, sweetie!” she coos to the dog. His tail wags wildly from under Scully’s elbow. (Of course the dog likes the sitter better than him.)

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll keep you updated.” Scully passes the dog to Molly before retrieving a bag by the door.

“It’ll be fine, Ms. Scully.” The girl’s eyes travel past her to Mulder. “Is this Mr. Scully?”

Mulder chokes on his tea. Scully looks like she’s about five seconds away from uproarious laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. “No, Molly, this is my partner. He’ll be working on the case with me.”

“Oh!” The girl’s cheeks pink. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Scully hands her the bag. “I’ll call you before I pick him up, alright?”

“That’s fine. Come out, cutie,” Molly says to the dog, toting him off down the hall and avoiding both of their eyes. Scully burst into quiet giggles as she closes the door.

Mulder goes for her suitcase in the corner. “Well,” he says primly, “is my wife ready for a romantic vacation in Florida?”

She jabs him in the side. “Shut up and come on or we’ll miss our flight.”

He opens the door for her. “You know, that monster dog would be like our child…”

Scully smirks. “Lucky us. I’m clearly the favorite parent.”

—

The case in Florida is closed, they pick up Queequeg from Molly’s on the way home from the library, and he paces restlessly along the backseat the whole way home. Mulder discovers it’s covered in orange hairs when he gets back to his apartment.

The next case is in Cleveland, a fat-sucking monster named Incanto who leaves Scully with a major headache from bashing her head into the mirror. The woman who was his intended victim leaves him in the hospital. The ambulances takes Incanto and his victim, Ellen, to the hospital, and Scully gets checked out at the scene and assured she doesn’t have a concussion. Mulder drives her back to the hotel and waits in her room while she takes a shower.

“The hospital called,” he tells her when she comes out of the bedroom, wet hair and white robe. “Incanto pulled through surgery. They think he’s going to be fine, he’s already awake and in excellent condition, they said; he might have some kind of healing abilities on top of his normal mutations.”

“I can’t say I’m especially happy,” Scully murmurs, sitting on the bed. She ignores his healing abilities theory. “All those women…” She pops two ibuprofens. “And Ellen?”

“She’s fine, too. They’ve never seen this condition before, but they’re treating her for chemical burns like you advised. Her friend is at the hospital with her.”

“Thank god.” Scully shifts onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows.

“You feeling okay?”

She nods, eyes slipping closed. “Just hurts, but I’ll be fine. Paramedic said I could sleep.”

Mulder touches her forehead gently. “Listen, local law enforcement has noticed some similar crimes around the country. They want me to stay and check it out. Incanto should be ready to interrogate in a week or so, we’d like to pin him down for as many murders as possible. I think you should go on and fly back.”

She opens one eye to look at him. “I’m fine, Mulder, really. It’s just a headache.”

“Yeah, but you should get some rest. And we don’t really need you here to look into cold cases.”

“Sure you do. Who else is gonna explain the autopsy reports?”

He chuckles quietly. “There is that.”

Scully groans a little, massaging her temples. “Tell you what. I’ll fly back tomorrow, meet with Skinner. Maybe see what research I can find on… things like Incanto in DC. Then I’ll head back up to help you out.”

“Sounds good. But try to take it easy, okay?” He stands, mattress shifting with the loss of his weight.

“Mulder, I’m fine,” she says, frustrated.

“I know.” He places his hand on the top of her head for a moment; his palm spans her entire scalp. “Call me if you need anything.”

Scully flies back to DC the next morning and calls two days later to ask if their hotel is pet-friendly. “Um… sure,” Mulder says, halfway nervous. “Why?”

“Molly’s busy, my mom’s in San Diego with my brother, and I can’t find anyone else last minute.”

“Scully,” he says. “Are you telling me that the monster dog will be joining us in Cleveland?”

“I don’t have a choice, I can’t leave him alone,” says Scully.

Which is how a yappy Pomeranian ends up sharing the thin hotel wall with Mulder. They spend the last few days before Incanto can be discharged at the police station going over recent missing women cases, Scully momentarily leaving to go let the dog out. It’s depressing, confronting that many cases. Mulder drives to some of the closest ones to interview the families, which only strengthens his hate for this creature. In the end, they find forty seven cases that fit Incanto’s MO. All of whom Incanto claim. The fucking bastard.

They spend one more night at the hotel before heading home. Mulder goes to Scully’s room to watch TV. He sits in the chair by the window, typing up the end of his report. Scully lies on the bed, Queequeg curled up at the end.

“I just can’t get past it, Mulder,” Scully says finally.

“This case?”

“The violence against women, all those innocent women who were just looking for companionship… I don’t know. It’s terrible.”

He’s quiet for a minute before saying, “Does he remind you of Pfaster?”

Her eyes shut in a weary way that makes him immediately regret it. “Maybe a little. It’s the same concept, you know… pure evil. Even in the sense of survival… like Tooms… it doesn’t make it any less evil. I guess it just seems different because he preyed on their emotions, too.” She covers her face with her arm. “I talked to Ellen, you know. She’s extremely embarrassed. I felt terrible for her.”

“I understand,” Mulder says. “It’s a terrible thing to go through.”

At the end of the bed, Queequeg lifts his fluffy head. He gets to his feet and pads up to curl on top of her chest. He licks the underside of her chin. She smiles, lowering her hand to his back. It’s a sweet picture. Mulder smiles a little. Maybe that little monster isn’t so bad after all.

Far away, sirens wail. Queequeg lifts his head in curiousity, throws his head back, and howls. Little black nose pointed at the ceiling, he makes an almost inhuman wailing sound. Mulder winces. Scully bursts into giggles under the sirens and howls, scratching his little back. “Hey, Scully, how do you shut this thing up?” Mulder shouts over the noise.

Somewhere else in the hotel, a bigger dog starts to howl. Scully laughs harder, covering her mouth with her hand. Mulder covers his ears. More dogs take up the song; someone pounds on their wall and shouts for them to shut the hell up. Scully closes her hand around Queequeg’s muzzle as the sirens and howls subside. “You hush,” she tells the dog affectionately, setting him down on her lap as she sits up. He wags his tail wildly, pawing at her arms and whimpering.

“I think that thing really loves you, Scully,” Mulder points out.

“I know you do, Mulder,” Scully says, focusing on petting Queequeg.

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding.” She offers him a small, coy smile. “I do think I needed that, though. I feel a little better now.”

“If all you needed was a howling dog all these years, I should’ve taken you on a werewolf case sooner.”

She rolls her eyes.

—

They don’t bother flying for the case at the VA hospital in Fort Maryland. They take shifts driving instead, Scully taking the second shift. “Queequeg is not going to be happy,” she says, fiddling with the radio.

“Are you really going to let that mutt dictate your life?” Mulder says lightly, rummaging through the takeout menus he’s stashed in the glove compartment.

“No, I’m letting you.”

He turns to her in concern and she smiles a little to show she’s kidding, eyes on the road. “I sense some hostility there, Scully.”

“Buy me some dinner and I’ll back off.”

He buys her dinner. They take it back to her place where Queequeg wriggles with excitement in his cage, yapping in a way that Mulder’s never heard before. (He hypothesizes that it’s delight.) As soon as Scully lets the thing out of the cage, he dances excitedly around her feet, little paws scrabbling at her pants legs. “Hey, buddy,” Scully says affectionately, scratching his head. “Mulder, will you hand me the leash?”

Mulder hands her the leash. “Hey, flesh-eating monster,” he says to Queequeg. The beast ignores him, whining and jumping on Scully’s legs. “TV trays?” he addresses Scully.

“You know what I like,” she says dryly. “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

They’re back in twenty. By then, Mulder’s hunger has gotten the better of him and he’s already halfway through his share of the takeout. “Mulder!” Scully protests when she catches him.

“Relax, I put yours in the microwave,” he says. “You can heat it up.”

“My hero.” She makes a face at him as she hangs Queequeg’s leash by the door and heads into the kitchen. The dog has spotted him eating on the couch. He’s at Mulder’s side in about five seconds flat, rocking back on his haunches, front paws in the air, and is giving him a pitiful, pleading look.

“Scully, your dog is staring at me,” Mulder calls, not taking his eyes off of the animal.

“He does that.” The keypad beeps under Scully’s hand. “You’re pathetic, Queequeg,” she calls without looking back at them. The dog whimpers plaintively, not taking his eyes off Mulder. Great, he’s locked in a staring contest with a Pomeranian.

They eat their takeout and flip through channels on the TV. Queequeg doesn’t leave Mulder’s side as they eat, continuing to shoot the pitiful looks. At one point, an actual tear trickles out of his eye. “Scully, the dog is crying,” says Mulder, astonished.

“He does that, too. You shouldn’t have any trouble resisting, though, since you clearly don’t like him.” Scully takes her plate to the sink to rinse it.

The dog makes no move to follow. He’s barely moved from his position since he came in, occasionally going on all fours only to go back to his upright position, his ears cocked, eyes pleading. Mulder sighs, grabs a piece of cold chicken from his plate and drops it on the floor. Queequeg eagerly gobbles it up.

“Broke you, huh,” Scully deadpans, leaning against the fridge and crossing her arms.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. It seems like an opportune time to scratch Queequeg on the head, so he does. “Gets that from you, the little bastard. Knows exactly how to break me.”

Scully grins, shakes her head. “Just wait.”

“What do you…” He looks back to the dog, who’s resumed his position from earlier, almost eagerly.

“You know what they say,” says Scully. “Feed an animal once, they’ll always come back for more.”

“I take it back,” he says. “This dog is clearly nothing like you. He’s pure, spiteful evil.” Queequeg whimpers adorably. Mulder ignores him.

—

Mulder jumps onto a train, gets hit over the head and is found in Iowa, and walks away with a concussion and several cuts and bruises. Scully gets the call and takes him home from the hospital. She’s told to monitor his sleeping schedule, to wake him up every hour, so she takes him home and makes up a bed on the couch. Mulder half-dozes, the TV flickering in the background. He’s in pain, but his mind is fixed solely on the train car, what happened after he was knocked unconscious. They’ll need to investigate, but Scully refuses to discuss it until he heals more.

Scully wakes him up at nine and he falls back asleep until 9:58. Scully pads out of her room a minute later, Queequeg right on her heels. Of course the damn thing sleeps with her. “I’m awake,” he mumbles, reaching up to rub his forehead and wincing when his fingers find the sore spot.

“How do you feel?” Scully sits by his side on the couch, checking his eyes with a penlight, pushing his hair back. Queequeg hops up by his feet.

“Fine. Hurts.” He closes his eyes. “Frustrated.”

“Stop thinking about that damn train car,” Scully says sternly. “You need to rest right now, recover. Be concerned with that.”

“Whatever you say, doc.” The pounding is steady behind his eyes and he remembers suddenly that - sans concussion - Scully was in a similar position a few months ago. He taps her side in the flickering dark of the room. “Hey, Scully, we have a penchant for head injuries, don’t we?”

“It would seem that way.” She smooths his hair again before standing.“I’ll be right back, I’m going to go get you some water.”

The sound of water running echoes underneath the TV. Mulder suddenly realizes by the tiny paws on his legs that Queequeg didn’t follow Scully. The beast seems to be sniffing his stomach, cautiously. He steps onto it, and Mulder grunts in protest - he’s still sore from jumping onto the fucking train. The dog ignores him, coming up to curl on his chest.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Scully says when she returns. “I never expected you two to form a truce.”

The damn thing is already asleep, snoring with his nose on his paws. “Want me to move him?” she asks.

“No,” Mulder mutters. “Might as well make a truce with this thing if I have a chance.”

Scully grins. “Good idea. Besides, he’s driving me crazy, he always manages to crawl under the covers.” She pats Queequeg on the head before heading into the bedroom, calling, “See you in an hour.”

Queequeg snores, a heavy weight on Mulder’s chest. The sound is raspy and annoying. “I still don’t like you,” Mulder tells the dog seriously before going to sleep.

#xf rewatch #xf fanfic #i wrote this

[abassi-okoro]

THE ANGRY WHITE WOMEN

by Abassi Okoro Eziokwu

Hate is too strong of an emotion to waste on people who don't deserve it. I hate Meghan McCain. Rather I hate what she represents, angry white femininity. It was an angry white woman who caused the savage annihilation of Emmet Till. It is the knee-jerk reactions of angry white women who call the police on black people for doing nothing more than blinking one too many times. White women are just always angry with something or someone. Have you noticed that? Despite the racial stigma that black women are often awarded, the “ANGRY BLACK FEMALE,” at least black anger is justifiably directed at a specific or definitive idea – RACISM!

Black anger carries a certain rationale, a certain sanity. It's understandable to sympathize with the anger of a people who are systematically and institutionally oppressed, abused, and persecuted – and that's only talking about black MEN! Now add to that persecution the reality of being a black WOMAN and your abuse has just gotten worse. But in 2019, you would think that it is "White Women" who are the benefactors of white male infliction or structured social abuse and oppression. It seems that every time we tune into FOX, CNN, or some feminist round table television talk show - there is no shortage of snarling, beady-eyed, 'trembling in anger' blonde-haired, white women all too eager to tell the whole of America how they're outraged over something or someone or how “women” (which is really code for WHITE women) are discriminated against more than black folk in this country.

These white women remind me of yappy little – big eyed Chihuahuas barking uncontrollably at the slightest insignificant sound or purely imagined discomfort. When white folks profess their anger over something, they call it "Outrage." Black folks call it, "White Tears." They're always stepping out of line, ridiculing and pointing fingers and especially when it comes to American Patriotism. Nothing gets these white women barking louder than the notion that American "Ideals" are being threatened by black people's audacity to call to attention racism or the fear that immigration of Hispanic people is going to colorize and lord forbid, "colonize" lily white neighborhoods like Boise Idaho or Cedar Rapids Iowa (because I'm sure that one of the whitest towns in America is worried to death over some Mexicans coming in and stealing their warehouse associate jobs at the Adam's Lumber Yard). Or the worse case scenario, Colin Kaepernick takes a knee. Tomi Lahren every week on her show damn near had a complete mental and emotional meltdown anytime Colin Kaepernick's name was mentioned. Despite my thoughts of her anger being nothing more than a cover-up for wanting to sleep with him, she didn't fail once at getting her "outrage" out to the American public. Meanwhile, white male executives who control the FOX network had no problem offering her the platform to exploit her little annoying blonde ass.

Megyn Kelly spends a great majority of her airtime interpreting innocent remarks or acts as "sexist." That's why she always has a frog up her ass, she thinks everything is sexual. Meghan McCain's shtick is that everyone and anyone who falls short of worshipping white Jewish people is, "Anti-Semitic." Then there's the rest of American white women in general who have a long history of voting against their own best interests. White women historically have always been proponents of white supremacy and the Feminist movement is an off-shoot of that white supremacy. Black women told you that years ago that white women were going into the black neighborhoods trying to recruit black women for white feminine agendas while suggesting to these black women that they would have to leave their families, give up their black men before they could be part of the “Women's Liberation Movement.”

And so many black women did exactly that. They stopped being mothers, wives, caretakers, they got jobs in corporate America, became “secretaries” in white owned companies, put on a business suit, told their kids, “I ain't cooking shit - I ain't got to take care of you,” traded in their natural hair for a perm, learned how to talk “white” on the phone and if the police came knocking at the door, they had no problem turning in their black boyfriend or black husband and especially if he was not treating her right. The white feminist snatched up many of these black women and said, “We're sisters now” and eventually sisters became partners and partners over time became "lovers." Meanwhile, white men were locking up black men over petty shit like 10 to 20 years for $10 of weed. That's called, “Engineered Racism” folks.

BUT WHY ARE WHITE WOMEN SO ANGRY?

I'm not suggesting that only certain people are allowed to be angry (the oppressed) but it sure does make more sense for oppressed to be angry and non-oppressed to NOT be so angry. Unless of course you're implying that white women are an oppressed marginalized group? I was told that white women are angry over gender inequality and especially in the political arena. Makes sense - if I was ignorant that is. When asked a little under two years ago how Donald Trump got elected, the answer that was told to us was because the people who voted for him were white and angry. They were suffering from financial anxiety and Trump's rhetoric of bringing jobs back to America sounded pretty darn good to Becky and Bob. Now here we are in 2019 and those Trump voters who were white and angry are STILL white and they’re STILL angry but only now they're angry because they STILL haven't landed those good ole' American jobs that they were promised back in 2016 and on top of that, Trump is more concerned with building a wall to keep Mexicans out than opening up a factory in your already dilapidated - one sheriff- rural town. I'm sure it feels awful to white people who just aren't accustomed to being bent over and screwed in the ass. But if you need a shoulder to cry on white people, give people of color a call. We're experienced at being lied to by white assholes. The grief counseling hotline after being lied to by white men is 1-800-YOU-DUMB. Negroes, Mexicans and Native Americans are waiting by the line to accept your calls.

FEMINIST RAGE 101

White women in particular are encouraging each other to let out their anger in the face of the current administration. Yet, white women have failed miserably in dismantling racism. It appears that white women's rage only became a thing when white men became indifferent to white female sexuality. In other words, white men simply are not that into you (just like the movie suggested). When white men were abusing women of color, sexually exploiting black women, committing sexual violence against black women with impunity, and we didn't hear a single outcry from white women. Instead, white women actually downplayed and silenced the anger of women of color - hoping that it would gain favor in the eyes of white men. You held out for nothing, he didn't care that you had his back. White men don't need your help with being a racist or a rapist. But in recent years, white women switched and played the role of “Social Activist” and despite all the protests and public outcries and unpaid emotional labor by women of color, what did these "socially aware" white women do? White women turned around and sold black women out. They threw black women under the bus and went out to the polls and voted for the party of toxic white supremacy. It's safe to say that white women are more likely to betray their gender for their race, a proverbial gut-punch to black women who have been victims of white masculinity for generations. White women should be more ashamed than angry.

Bu let me tell you how angry white women really are. White women are so angry that 53% of them put their white privilege above their 2nd class gender status to vote for Donald Trump. Despite their "anger," white women believe they benefit from white male patriarchy by trading on their whiteness to monopolize resources for mutual gain. In return, they’re placed on a pedestal to be “cherished and revered,” by white men who in reality will not only be quick to deny them their basic human rights but will, "Grab them by the pussy" while denying them. Look, let's cut through the bullshit and just go ahead and be brutally honest: White women, your white man will NEVER love you the way he should (to full capacity.) Maybe because he spends most of his time fantasizing over black, Latin and Asian women. He'll never tell you that, but I will! Hurts doesn't it? Maybe that's why you're angry because despite supporting the system of White Supremacy, you know deep down inside your soul that the whole premise of white supremacy is predicated on white male sexual inadequacy (white genetic survival, penis envy and trying to get back into the womb of the black woman in order to recreate himself without the genetic deficiencies). Isn't that why many of your fellow white women leave their white men to be with black men to begin with? Because even white women know who the real KINGS are (Royal blood). Now pick your jaw up off the floor.

Isn't this the real reason for white female fragility? The answer is yes! There exist a lot of truths about ourselves that most of us aren't willing to explore. For white people, some of those truths paint them in a very pathetic light. I'm sorry, but as a white woman in America - you're simply not a victim of anything structural. You may be a victim to some personal and isolated incident but there is no systemic or institutionalized "ism" in place to destroy you and NO, Sexism isn't your collective oppression. You can't claim that because sexism isn't exclusive to just the female gender and white men have always treated you like shit and so don't start acting like now all of a sudden you have a problem with being his bitch and especially after 53% of you voted in a "Pussy Grabber" as your President. GROW UP white women. Pull yourself together ladies. It's not a good look to be angry for no goddamn reason.