#poochy my beloved

[mensajeroseis]

was playing helldivers w my friend, and me and some random were the only ones alive for extraction. and as i headed for the copter….My Rover Guard Dog Killed Me….

#betrayed by my beloved poochie

[signalwatch]

Dog Watch: Lassie (1994)

Watched:  07/13/2023

Format:  BluRay

Viewing:  Second

Director:  Daniel Petrie

Like all good Gen-X'ers, I grew up in the aftershocks of the baby boomers, and Lassie - the very clever collie - was certainly a character and concept we knew of, if not through direct experience, then by osmosis.  I guess there was a book, originally (1940).  Our canine hero starred in wildly popular movies beginning in the 1940's (it's where Roddy McDowall got his start as a lad) and television - running for a cool 20 years, from 1954-1974.  Plus several more movies and TV shows over the years people who are not huge Lassie fans probably are unaware of.

I know!  That's a lot of Lassies.  

The artificial monoculture created via mass media and limited outlets did, at least, give us a chance to have some familiar talking points, and you never knew where they'd coalesce.  Personally, I didn't watch Lassie in reruns.  Or the movies.*  For most of us, Lassie was one or two jokes about kids falling down wells and dogs alerting us to calamity.  Maybe we whistled the theme song at our dogs.  

This 1994 film is more or less an original story, but if you know anything at all about Lassie from the TV show, etc... this movie carries on quite a bit of the world's bravest, smartest, wisest dog *and* best friend to a boy who needs one.  This dog seems like it's ready to pick locks and drive cars.  Three cheers for Lassie.

Our story:  

A family is moving from Baltimore (I suppose they heard Omar's coming) and to the - get this - home of the now deceased mom, a farmhouse in rural Virginia (it was shot in West Virginia, more on that in a bit). Dad has made the very, very wise choice to remarry in the form of Helen Slater, who is game for this move that - upon introspection - seems kinda weird and sad. The daughter/ sister is relentlessly cheerful in the way of movie characters who need to exist for color but who will not be impacting the plot.  

The son is, of course, roughly 12 or 13 and 90's-furious about being taken from the big city, complaining relentlessly while listening to Alice in Chains while skateboarding.  He's that "cool" 90's kid you'd seen in commercials and catalogs from which visions of Poochie sprang.  And allowed to mouth off to his parents in a way that would have gotten most kids in that era shot out of a canon.

Curiously, the 1950's Lassie show is diegetic to this show - something the younger sister watches - and lends its name to the Lassie of the film.  

Ok, so, Lassie in this movie is the beloved pet and working dog of a faceless sheep rancher who dies tragically at the start of the film and the family gawks as authorities haul off the body.  They then make off with the dog.  It is... weird.  But that's how they set up that this family has to do zero training with their thoroughbred dog no one noticed lurking around the accident scene (I guess fuck that guy's family, giving them something else to worry about).  But it also seems like *someone* would have come around saying "my uncle died and we can't find his dog".  

Here's the thing - this movie is *gorgeous*.  That's my primary memory of the movie from 30 years ago.  I couldn't really remember anything but "family moves to farm, there is a dog" and then sweeping scenery with rolling hills and beautiful trees and meadows.  The DP is Kenneth MacMillan, who was a veteran of the film industry, and recently shot Henry V.  By 1994, film stock itself was able to do an amazing job of capturing detail and color, and there's not much in the way of processed shots.  They're just letting the background do the heavy lifting.  I don't want to oversell it, but it's money well-spent in a movie that was probably imagined to be filmed on one of two ranches we've all seen a 1000 times before outside of LA.

Director Daniel Petrie was no slouch, either.  He wasn't a prestige director, but he did work on high-end TV movies and some feature films.

I sold Jamie on the film, describing it as "the gentlest movie you'll ever see". But, because that was because I didn't really remember the movie. The film includes genuine attempts at telling an actual all-ages story about a family living in the shadow of death that winds up pulling together and a boy who works through his grief. I won't say it's *because* of the dog - but Lassie certainly helps move the story along. Also, we borrow heavily from Shane and ranchers wanting their grazing land at any cost. Admittedly, this makes way less sense in 1990's Virginia than in remote spots in the 19th Century west. But there's also stuff like... wolf attacks.

It's also a reminder that pre-2000 family movies were pretty open about dysfunctional or complicated families, taking trauma at face value and the fact that bad shit happens is part of life, but not something to drown in.  It's something to overcome.  Maybe with your dog.  While fighting off wolves.

One thing Jamie pointed out was that these kids aren't... special.  They aren't the best at anything or a star or popular.  They're allowed to be "everyman" kids in a way that used to be SOP for kids stuff.  They have friction with their folks and their greatest concern is *not* disappointing the parents and their expectations of them (which I feel is the go-to these days).  Their parents are there and a focus, but they act as much as antagonist as ally.  Also:  Teens smoke.  Mom's die and kids grieve them with no therapy.  Dads move on and make huge life decisions for the family with minimal consulting of kids.  Kids are dumb about guns.   

That's not a call out of "we were right then, it's wrong now".  I just find it an interesting pivot.

I'm not going to sell this as anything but a movie that is better than you probably expect and better than it had to be.  The kid actors are not bad - this is the first film appearance of Michelle Williams!  The adults include Richard Farnsworth as the dead-Mom's dad and Frederic Forrest as the rancher next door.  I'm less familiar with John Tenney who played the dad.  But, of course, Helen Slater is lovely.

The dog itself is very well trained, and almost always nails what it's asked to do except maybe the one key thing dog trainers rarely figure out:  how to make the dog look like it cares at all about the actor who is supposed to be their best friend.  

Like, look, I live with dogs.  I know what it means to have a dog deeply focused on you, and the dog looking off camera stone-faced awaiting their next command ain't it.  Of course, I watched ten minutes of the recent Call of the Wild on cable, and a CGI dog acting like a cartoon ain't it, either.  But, man, if dogs acted crazy the way they do when they want to tell you they love you?  That would sell it.  Here, it makes the final scene a little...  underwhelming.

There remains a constant trickle of Lassie material, including a cartoon and live action movie out of Germany, I believe.  I guess American kids don't give a shit about dogs these days.  But - as you may have picked up on - I'm fascinated with how stuff that was popular for decades will quietly get consigned to the pop-culture dust bin.  From cowboy stuff to heroic dogs to Dick Tracy.

A quick Google search will tell you that the breeding of Lassies and who owns the idea and whatnot of Lassie and the pedigree is almost as messy as Rin-Tin-Tin, with a lot of dead URLs.  I can't quite figure out who owns the bloodline, but it looks like it's now an offshoot of the Rough Collie and registered with AKC?  But much like Rin-Tin-Tin, it's very confusing and I figure there's maybe a few hundred to a few thousand who know what the full story is at this point, and that ain't me.

I once saw a Lassie at the mall I worked at in Austin (Highland Mall, circa 1997) and had planned to stand in line to meet Lassie myself til I figured out it was at least an hour wait with moms and their young daughters.  I chose to not look like a psycho to the moms in line and just head on out.  And I regret it.  A nice, signed 8x10 from Lassie would have been nice.

All in all, I'd rather meet Helen Slater.  And now I'd ask her to sign my Lassie disc.

Also, did not have this on my "Lassie Research Bingo Card".

Apparently, according to what I read:  a strong maybe?

*I did watch a Rin-Tin-Tin show, briefly, on The Family Channel, but not the original movies or TV show

https://ift.tt/47OQBa8

from The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/bnuDdw1

#lassie #movies #movie reviews #1990s cinema #helen slater

[fireleaptfromhousetohouse]

There's an issue of the surprisingly good Simpsons comics where they revisit the cool-by-way-of-focus-group character Poochie, and suggest a bunch of alternate looks for him which are nodding to some beloved copyrighted characters:

except that central panel is a good ten years too early to possibly be making reference to One Punch Man. As they've emphasised 'marvel' maybe it's just a generic lycra and muscles superhero, but that's at odds with the other quite specific references surrounding it. Any suggestions as to what they're driving at are welcomed.

(Also, my goodness, they really did get away with giving Silent Poochie a big bag of dope in a child-friendly comic.)

#the simpsons #one punch man

[trashytummiez]

Master Kohga stuffs himself with bananas and gets his belly rubbed by his minions.

Master Kohga was beloved among his underlings. But there were members within the Yiga Clan who adored their master not just for his strength but for his looks as well. Many referred to him as utterly dreamy. And those who did tended to be referring to Kohga's most prominent feature.

His big poochy tummy.

The way it swayed with his every bold movement or jiggled beneath the tight red restraints of all Yiga Clan uniforms would make anyones knees weak.

It was certainly the case for a clan member named Haru whose mind wandered when he heard his master call out to him. And with how groggy Kohga sounded when he called for his minion Haru was quick to deduce his master sounded very overstuffed. He could only imagine how bloated that wonderful belly was going to be when he reached his masters chambers.

"Y-You wished to see me Master Ko-"

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHRRRP!!!!!

The young Yiga Clansmans stammering was interrupted by a raucous burp that bellowed from just behind those doors. slowly Haru opened the heavy door and what he saw caused him to blush so brightly that not even his Yiga mask could hide his blush.

Master Kohga was sprawled on his bed groaning with a pile of banana peels just at the foot of his bed. The end result of which left Kohga so bloated that he looked as if he had a mini boulder hidden beneath that skin tight red suit of his. Kohga lazily and pointlessly tried to settle his giant tummy by rubbing as much of it as he could reach but his belly was so massive he could barely reach any of it.

The master lazily looked past his giant girth and saw his minion at the doorway still as a statue and felt his eyes beneath his mask peering at that enormous belly of his.

"Unnngh...are you gonna gawk all day or are you gonna do your job...? Urf..." Master Kohga groggily called out to Haru then huffed breathlessly.

Haru quickly made his way to his masters side and heard that huge stomach churning harder and noisier than the brewing pots in one of their elixir chambers. His face only grew redder and redder when Kohga brought a fist to his masked mouth and gave a huge closed-mouth burp that actually pushed his mask out slightly and rumbled even louder than his giant belly did. Then Kohga gave another deep closed mouth burp after that and a lower one right after.

It was all music to Haru's ears.

"...Wh-What would you like me to do master?"

A thick groan emanated from Kohga's belly as soon as he heard the question to Kohga's obvious inquiry. The utterly bloated ninja master rolled his eyes beneath his Yiga eye mask and slapped his hand down over the side of his chunky belly as hard as he could. It sloshed immensely beneath his palm and caused his prominent girth to ripple heavily, similar to a like-like.

The slap also caused a huge gas bubble to work its way up Kohga's throat in time for his response.

Rrr-RUUUUUUUUUUUUBBBB!!!!!!

As if Master Kohga couldn't be any hotter for Haru watching him slap his fat belly as hard as he could and burp out his demand nearly made Haru faint on the spot.

But if he did someone else would take his job and he wasn't going to let anyone else have the pleasure. So the young ninja hopped onto Kohga's bed and sat before that giant tummy and very quickly started rubbing it. Both Haru and Master Kohga shuddered at the exact same time his lean fingers began to run across that huge mound of spandex-clad blubber. Kohga's tummy was so fat that Haru's hands actually sank a little into his blubber when he rubbed. And there was so much belly to rub that Haru had to practically lean against the belly as though he were hugging a big beanbag chair.

Kohga groaned pleasurably and rolled his head back with a pleased sigh. He let his arms drop to his sides while the young Yiga Clansmen rubbed all over his vast belly with eager attentiveness. The heavy ninja master curled his toes in his boots when he felt Haru's fingers really clutch at his belly fat and knead into it like a baker would a giant mountain of dough.

"Unnnnnf...no one rubs this thing better than you I swear..." Master Kohga praised through his euphoric bliss and punctuated his praise by patting the side of his belly heartily making it wobble with each pat he gave.

"It is my honor master," Haru said with a respectful bow of his head that did absolutely nothing to mask his clear arousal which only made Kohga snicker drunkenly and made his giant tummy jiggle with his amused chortles.

Haru leaned himself right up against Kohga's huge plushy stomach and sank into the thick fat across Kohga's stomach. He almost shuddered at the realization of sinking slightly into his masters wonderful belly. His face was concealed by his mask same as Kohga but his body language said it all. Haru was in heaven.

The skinny little ninja rigorously rubbed the giant belly of the big fat ninja master. If kohga's eyes were visible they'd be rolling to the back of his head. In fact the way he panted made it almost look like his tongue would be hanging out of his mouth if not concealed by his mask. That's how good Haru's rubs were getting the way his palms were groping every inch of that wonderfully huge ball of fat hanging from his torso.

Haru reached over and kneaded his hand into the lower center of Kohga's fatty tummy. It was so thick and blubbery that his hand sank even deeper into Kohga's belly fat than any other part of his stomach. But it was also where Haru could feel Master Kohga's rather deep belly button. And because he was all too eager to indulge he pushed his fingers into Kohga's navel making them sink into Kogha's belly fat and belly button at the same time.

Master Kohga moaned heavily from having his navel fondled by his underling. The way Haru was kneading into the center of his tummy was growing more rigorous. Haru really pushed into that thick layer of fat which made that giant churning tummy gurgle even louder than ever.

Though Haru may have been kneading into Kohga's navel too hard because he pushed down enough that a huge gas bubble wormed its way up Kohga's chest. A thick burbling erupted from his throat and rose higher and higher until the fat ninjas cheeks puffed out underneath his Yiga Master mask. Then he threw his head back and released the loudest burp Haru had ever heard. One which blared all throughout Kohga's quarters and made his fat tummy ripple for several seconds.

HHHHHHHRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHRRRRRPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Master Kohga sighed heavily in relief. "Gaaaaahhh...that felt good," he moaned and gave his immensely fat belly a few hearty slaps which made it ripple and slosh like it was full of jelly. He looked over his massive tummy and saw Haru leaning there stunned still. Kohga snickered which made his tummy jiggle some more. He could practically see the steam radiating from the Yiga footsoldiers masked face.

To rile his minion up even further Kohga grabbed the sides of his gelatinous tummy and jiggled it around right before Haru's eyes.

"Boy listen to this thing. All those bananas really do a number on me don't they," Master Kohga teased.

The sight of his fat master shaking his huge blubbery tummy around nearly gave Haru a heart attack. He couldn't help shove his hands right into that giant paunch eager to feel more of that fat in his hands and even more eager to hear Kohga burp again.

His efforts were swiftly rewarded by Kohga releasing an explosive burp which reeked of the sweet stench of digested bananas. Kohga's belly rippled like it was a waterbed both from the release and from the sudden shove Haru's hands gave his middle.

"You're incredible Master Kohga..." Haru said fondly while he reached up and eagerly slapped the side of Kohga's belly which made it wobble with each hearty slap he gave.

The slaps also dislodged another enormous throaty burp from the bloated ninja master as well. It was followed by another harsh burp right after that.

BBBBAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHPPP!!!!!!

HUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRHHHPPP!!!!!

It was like all of Haru's fetish-fueled fantasies had come to life all at once. His beloved Master Kohga was sprawled and overstuffed on his bed even fatter than Haru had ever imagined seeing him. And the surplus of bananas that Kohga gorged on made his tummy so incredibly gassy and noisy that Haru was squeezing and slapping out one incredibly powerful burp after another.

Haru couldn't describe the way Kohga's tummy felt in his hands. The thick doughiness he felt when he let his hands sink into Kohga's belly fat. Or the way it rippled in his hand each time Kohga allowed him to slap it so heartily. He would fondle and play with Kohga's belly all night long if the master would allow it.

But Master Kohga for his part simply snickered and kicked back so Haru could keep kneading into his tummy. He was so fat that the rougher treatment of his tummy didn't bring any discomfort. In fact he found he quite enjoyed the feeling of his tummy rippling and quivering with each smack Haru gave it and the tender and firm kneading he gave. Though it was exhausting for the fat ninja to be burping so much. Haru's every press and slap successfully dislodged one tonsil quivering burp after another.

So in order to satiate his thirsty little minion Master Kohga sat up as best as that massive ball of fat weighing him down would allow him. Then Kohga wrapped his burly arms around Haru and hugged him as hard as he could right against his big blubbery belly. Haru's body sank into the masters tummy fat which also made a rush of gas that was still brewing in his stomach force its way up Kohga's throat.

This time instead of throwing his head back Master Kohga burped as loud and as long as he could right in Haru's face.

BBBRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRROOOOOOOOOOORRRRRHHHHHRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Even with his mask covering his face and Haru's mask covering his own face the sheer force of that burp blasted over Haru to nearly blow his mask clean off. Kohga's banana breath wafted over Haru as he sat there against Kohga's belly utterly stunned. It wasn't the most pleasant way to enjoy the aroma of bananas but it was still somehow intoxicating for Haru. Though that might have had something to do with the source.

Master Kohga sighed over Haru and smacked his lips beneath his mask. "Ahhhh much better," he said teasingly and gave his tummy a light smack which unintentionally made the bloated ninja master give a deep closed-mouth burp that he blew to the side.

"...M-Master...c-could you...?"

One didn't need to be able to see Kohga's face to sense him rolling his eyes at how shamelessly thirsty some of his underlings could get. "Fine but my throat's starting to hurt so ease up after this okay?"

His arms tightened around Haru. Kohga squeezed his minion against his bulbous belly once more which made the overweight clan leader let rip another big closed-mouth burp that Haru could hear very plainly rumbling in Kohga's spandex-clad cheeks. Then an even bigger one followed that Kohga almost let out altogether.

HHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRLMHP!!!!

MMMMRRRRRRRLLMMMHHHPP!!!!!!!!!

Kohga grunted then instead of blowing the gas away blew it all over Haru's mask-clad face.

"Ungh. There. Happy?"

All Haru could do was nod absentmindedly.

Kohga grinned and released Haru from his grip. "Good!" He said and lazily flopped backwards which caused his immensely stuffed tummy to slosh around from the heavy thud of his back hitting his mattress. "You can keep rubbing then. Keep it up and I'll try'n give you a few more burps for your troubles. Sound fair?"

Haru had already been rubbing for who knows how long. And yet he was already right back to firmly massaging that ample tummy with the same eagerness as a child about to go to a toy store. "Master you are truly the most generous and wonderful leader our clan has ever known..."

Master Kohga snickered some more at the easy praise which made his tummy jiggle again. "Tell me something I don't know."

Then he was off to basking in more belly rubs from a deliciously loyal little follower.

#kink fic #master kohga #oc #belly kink #fat play #overweight #belly sloshing #belly rub #tummy noises #kinkteasing #burping #burp kink #gassy #burp play #i ship it #gay #legend of zelda #botw #yiga clan #hyrule warriors

[draconicmaw]

Pets that I think YGO characters would have:

Atem:

Cat

If he could, a whole ass falcon

Kaiba:

Cat, but he would pretend he hated it (he doesn't)

Idk why, but a husky comes to mind. It would be a crackhead but it would be KAIBA'S crackhead dog

Jou:

A parrot! I don't know why, but this one time I was driving and saw a guy riding a bicycle, shirtless, with a big ass green parrot on his shoulder and if that isn't Jou energy, I don't know what is

Honda:

Pretty sure it's canon that he's a dog person, but I also think he would have the magic touch when it comes to dogs. He could befriend and train any dog under the fucking sun.

Mokuba:

A rat. I could see him walking around with his small rodent friend on his shoulder tucked into his hair 🥺 too cute

Anzu:

She seems like a dog person to me but I could be wrong 🤷🏻‍♀️

Mai:

A pair of lovebirds

Ryou:

Tarantula. He'd be one of THOSE people. Like "Do you want to see my sweet baby? ISN'T SHE GORGEOUS? 🤩"

Bakura (Yami/TK):

Secret animal lover. They are all beloved by him.

Still, I definitely think he would have a snake of some sort

And, last but not least (for now),

Yugi:

Literally anything that needs a home/needs to be rescued. Sick fish at pet store? Yugi is bringing that thing's watery ass home. Stray cat Jou found on the street? It's going to Yugi's. Old dog at the pound that nobody wants to adopt? Guess what, you're part of the Mutou family now, poochie.

[nuclearforest]

Three questions for you!

1. It's time for the annual team building retreat! You have to pick which group you will be sent with to compete again the other! Do you side with the Wild Geese or the Iscariots?

2. You've won a week's vacation to the Bahamas, all expenses paid! But there's one problem...who is going to look after your beloved poochies while you're gone!?

The only people you can ask is either a starving Alucard or The Major. Who would you chose and why?

3. You've gone back in time to the night of your prom dance. The entire cast of Hellsing is there, along with ...everyone else.

Who amongst the cast is on your dance card and who is on your hit list?

I'm gonna start by saying that I'm dying for these questions and love them to bits. TYSM!! I'm gonna get right into it.

1. Fun fact about me! I went to an all girl catholic school for high school, so I've already been on retreats with a group of Catholics (and I'm well familiar with Catholic guilt, oh boy) so I'm gonna have to say the Wild Geese. They're probably really rowdy, but a corporate retreat probably means NOT a warzone and (if Hellsing sponsored) somewhere either nice in Britain or a country still under Britain's thumb. Sounds like it could be a good vacation.

(On that note I wrote some Hellsing headcanons ages ago about going to LeMans for the famous endurance race and because Pip and probably a bunch of the Wild Geese are French, they'd be familiar with it if not love going themselves. I've been before, loved it, and kinda follow endurance racing already, so I would love to do that as a retreat.)

2. Before I pick a babysitter I'm going to give you a full disclosure: I love big dogs. Grew up with goldens, a St. Bernard, and now my folks have a Newfoundland (who is a big baby that looks like a bear). So I would also have big dogs, probably Newfs or something (if only I'd be in a place to have a wolfdog) if I lived somewhere cold enough to be tolerable to them.

Now that said, I would honestly pick the Major. Alucard may or may not have eaten dogs and if he's hungry I would not be risking that. Automatic disqualification. But I would also daresay the Major probably likes dogs and might look at the Captain as a bit of a big dog himself. So if I were in the position to be able to ask: please take my dogs and don't let them witness your war crimes, sir. (Man let's trade for the week: you take my dogs and I take yours, if you know what I mean-- give me the Captain in swim trunks tanning on a beach. Or like, even better rent a whole catamaran and sail out to sea alone for like a week. A lot can happen in a week).

3. Prom was a funny night. First all-nighter I ever pulled in my life; I remember driving/flying home at 5AM in an overpowered car and feeling very free when the sun rose. I didn't actually spend much time dancing though because I went with friends-- had an all girl's school and knew no guys from the other private schools in the area. I think we had a brother school, never really got involved with them though.

That said, I would've danced with at least Integra, no questions asked. Just as friends. Would've probably avoided Zorin like the plague. And I am an almost criminally shy individual so I would've been pining hard across the room for the Captain only to get punked into dancing with him by a group of my friends. I would've never recovered. Didn't grow into IRL courage until many years later, lol, and I'm still a bit of a coward online. I am like, 3 hairs away from doing a Mill college AU for shits and giggles. But I'm gonna finish the December fic first. I may or may not have cheated and started drafting.

#mun rambles #like the fool jingles #and the clown honks

[bluem0use]

“Let Me Take You Away”

AAAAHHH I WORKED ON THIS FOR 3 DAYS, NOT ENOUGH TIME BUT STILL CAME OUT PRETTY DECKED.

Aaaanyhoo, I FINALLY have another ship with one of my Ocs that isn’t the main ones that I use often (Billie Bob, Poochie, Ozzan, Malachi, Scratches, the Vamp sibs, etc). This is a ship that I have with one of my old friends on Discord. My interest for this ship peaked mainly because Miss Delloris here is the mayor’s beloved and ONLY daughter. So being seen in a relationship with a demon, something that is commonly feared by mortal toons in Toontown, would be sure to give her father a panic attack AND a heart attack. Especially when he is strictly opposed to having his daughter involved in dating, due to him being over-protective.

Believe it or not, Gairoju from my understanding used to be a full angel. He lived with his mother in heaven, until she mysteriously disappeared along with his father, who went out to war. Well, by the time he was 1700 (17), he was banished from Heaven due to the Elder counsil in Heaven (nice idea by the way) called him in to talk to him. He thought he was going to be drafted into the war due to his long years of hard training. SIKE!!!-They called him in to banish him due to his mother’s infidelity with a demon, which is not only forbidden but also shamed upon. So he fell, losing his angel wings (that I’m guessing turned into demon ones), grew a demon tail, and horns. You see those burn marks on him (his hidden face and left hand, his left not ours)? Well, apparently during his mother’s affair, she had conceived his half sister, Thana, who married a monster that forced him into a portal. He’s a light demon, so he was badly burned in the process. He was gone for a very long time, and because most of his wings got burned, he ripped what was left of them off. He vowed to get revenge on his sister and her husband, not only for what they did to him, but also because Thana ultimately killed his mother and her father by consuming them, since her father was a cannibal and was deprived from meat. 

Seeing how much stress being the next one in line for the key to the city along with the pressure of presenting herself to be lady-like, I feel as though Gairoju would want to take her away from all that every once and awhile. And go have some fun. He’s very good to Delloris and won’t let anything bad happen to her on his watch.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Gairoju. He belongs to my friend UwU 

#bendyandtheinkmachineoc #baitm #batim oc #batimoc #Bendy and the Ink Machine

[ineffablegame]

“It’s over. They’re not going to hurt you again.” :3c

I’m sorry this got so long!  Also at my Ao3.

-

Aziraphale is not, as a general rule, overly fond of children.

Oh, they’re wonderful, of course.  They’re wonderful as a concept.  Aziraphale may not be in Heaven’s best books, so to speak, but he still subscribes to their beliefs regarding children.  ‘For the kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children,’ ‘you are all children of God,’ ‘the riches inherited by God’s children,’ et cetera.  Gabriel may have called Adam Young a brat, but Above is – at least officially – in favor of kids.

Broadly speaking, Aziraphale loves children.  He’s an angel, after all.  He loves everyone, and that includes children.

Less broadly – in the narrow confines of his beloved bookshop, for example – Aziraphale is happy to keep them at a distance.  So, when the Them show up at the front door on a cool, crisp day in late October, the angel is understandably alarmed.

“Hullo,” says Adam Young.  He holds the lead for Dog, who stands stock-still beside him, eyes flashing incarnadine.  Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale flank him.  

Aziraphale fends off a full-body shudder with every scrap of angelic willpower he can muster.  Adam Young may be a normal boy at heart, but the rest of him remains very much the occult equivalent of ten million nuclear warheads.  The intensity of his focus is unsettling.

“A-ah,” the angel stammers.  “Adam Young. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Is that him?” Pepper demands.  She eyes Aziraphale, lip curling.  “He doesn’t look like a demon.”

“I never said he was the demon,” Adam replies. “He’s the demon’s friend.”

“Actually, I don’t think demons can have friends,” says Wensleydale.  “Because they’re evil.”

“Yeah.”  Brian wipes a mud stain – the origin of which is a mystery – on his shirt.  His eyes widen and he grins.  “Maybe he’s possessed by the demon?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s quite the case,” Aziraphale fumbles.  He does wish the children would quiet down a little. If Crowley hears them speculating about who’s possessing who, he’ll never let Aziraphale hear the end of it. “You’re… looking for Crowley?”

“Uh-huh.”  Adam angles his gaze past Aziraphale, into the near-empty bookshop.  “He’s here, right?  We need to ask him for advice.”

“Whatever could you need—”  Aziraphale begins, only to fall silent as a familiar demonic presence crowds his senses. He turns and sees Crowley sauntering toward him.

“Angel, there’re a pair of tourists looking quite keen about the Ian Fleming books,” he says.  “I’d get them to clear out if I were you.  I keep telling you, move the Bond books to storage.  You might think they’re drivel, but they have some serious—”

Crowley looks back toward Aziraphale and catches sight of the Them. He draws up short.  “Oh!  Uh. Hey, um, kids.”

Pepper looks even less impressed than before.  “This is him?  Seriously?”

“Yeah.”  Adam strolls past Aziraphale into the bookshop with Dog and the Them in tow. Aziraphale watches the procession pass in bewilderment.

Pepper cuts straight to the point.  “We need you to teach us how to be devils.”

Crowley darts his eyes from the Them to Aziraphale and back.  “Um.  What?”

“For Halloween,” Adam clarifies.  “We’re going as devils.  But we don’t know how to act properly evil, so I thought, why not ask a real-life devil?”

“M’a demon, actually,” Crowley mumbles, apparently immune to the irony of Adam’s statement.  He considers the Them, head cocked.  Then, much to Aziraphale’s horror, he nods.  “Yeah, all right.  Why not.”

“Why not?” Aziraphale echoes.  “My dear, surely you can’t be—”  He freezes when Adam turns and pins him with a speculative look.  Mellowing, the angel stammers, “W-well, perhaps if you took your… er, tutelage outside…”

Adam shrugs.  “I dunno. I think right here is fine.”  He looks around the shop.  “Seems to me that you spend a lot of time here.  Might help you teach us better in your nat’ral environment, right?”

Aziraphale directs a withering look at Crowley, who averts his gaze.  “Uh.  I guess.”

“I really think…”  Aziraphale trails off; he knows when a battle is lost.  He threads his fingers together, knuckles white.  “Please be careful of the books.  They are quite valuable.”

He spins around and stalks toward the counter, intent on taking his wrath out on the first customer to cross him.

The next hour is an exercise in tolerance.  Crowley gets right down to the business of teaching the Them how to be proper demons, his gusto belying the apologetic glances he keeps shooting Aziraphale’s way.  From what the angel can gather in his covert eavesdropping, demonic work mostly amounts to being a nuisance.

“Another good—er, bad act of evil is never replacing the loo roll,” Crowley says. “That one’s a sure-fire win. Never fails to drive the humans mad.”

“I do that already,” Brian says proudly.  “And I never flush.”

Crowley winces.  “Yeah, you’re a proper demon, all right.”

“This is boring,” Pepper says.  “Don’t you do real evil stuff?  Like, killing people and all that?”

“There’s more to being evil than killing people,” Crowley says with startling patience.

“I don’t see why you want to celebrate Halloween at all,” Aziraphale says, stopping by their gathering with an armful of books – a clever pretext on his part, if he may be so bold.  “It’s only a new-fangled American holiday.”

“Actually, you can’t own a holiday,” says Wensleydale.  “America doesn't own Halloween.  Holidays are for everyone.  As long as they’re not religious.”

Aziraphale is sorely tempted to tell the little know-it-all to shove it, but Adam Young’s focus hones in on him with hawkish intensity, so he restrains himself.  “Of course,” he says coldly.

Brian plucks a book off the shelf and leafs through the pages.  “Is folding the corners demonic?  My parents hate it when I do that.”

“Ye—no,” Crowley says, catching Aziraphale’s warning glare.  “Nah, s’not really evil.  Nope.”

Adam glances between the angel and demon.  “Sounds right.”

Pepper looks at the book in Brian’s hand with disdain.  “Ugh.  Peter Pan is so sexist.”

Aziraphale’s temper slips its bonds.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  It’s a children’s book.”

“It is!” Pepper counters.  “It’s all boys doing the fun stuff and Wendy has to be like their mum!  And Tiger Lily—”

“What about this?” Brian says, clearly still stuck on demonic acts against literature.  He jams one finger up his nose and pulls it out, a yellow-green gobbet clinging to the dirty nail.  Then, much to Aziraphale’s horror, he smears the bogie on the inside cover of a first-edition Peter Pan.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale chokes.  He’s never fainted in his entire existence, but there’s a first time for everything.

Crowley, much to his credit, keeps a flimsy veneer of composure as he swipes the book from Brian’s hands.  “Books really aren’t the way to go,” he says.  Aziraphale feels the fabric of the universe pop a stitch and re-knit as the bogie dissolves into nothingness.  “Not enough people care about them.  The effect isn’t widespread.”

“Not enough—”  Aziraphale sputters, indignant, only to stop dead when he sees Dog sniffing a shelf with Intent.  “Adam, dear boy, if you could please take, ah, Poochie outside, I would appreciate it ever so much…”

Adam considers the former hellhound.  “Think I’ll keep him with me, thanks.  He’s not used to the big city.”

“There’s a fenced-in yard outside,” Aziraphale says, a trifle desperately.  There wasn’t one a moment ago, and miracling around the logistics of Soho was a trial, but the angel is growing more and more desperate.  “Surely it needs to relieve itself?”

“Nah,” says Adam.  “He’s properly trained.  He won’t make a mess.”

In a feat of truly miraculous timing, Dog cocks a leg and wees on the shelf. Aziraphale’s heartbeat slams in his temples.  Dumping his books on the nearest open shelf, he hurries over to the little beast, waving his hands at it.  “Oh, for pity’s sake!”

“Got it,” Crowley says quickly.  He miracles the puddle out of existence with a snap of his fingers.  “See?  Not a stain, angel.”

“Cor!”  Brian is amazed.  “Can you show us how to do that?”

“Actually, I don’t think we can,” says Wensleydale.  “On account of we’re not real demons.”

“Shoo!” Aziraphale hisses at Dog.  “Shoo, you—you little mongrel!”

“Hey,” Adam says, and while his tone is mild, the rumble of irritation that sweeps through the bookshop is not. Aziraphale should heed it, really he should, but he can’t stand idly by while children run riot and infernal dogs eject fluids in his shop.  He waves his hands closer at Dog, intent on fending him off.  Dog’s lips peel back in a snarl.

Crowley’s voice is strained.  “Angel—”

Too late.  Aziraphale shrieks as Dog’s teeth sink into his hand, flowering fires of pain.  He yanks his hand back and clutches it to his chest.  Dog growls, eyes glittering red.

“I’m sorry,” Adam hastens to say.  “I didn’t think he’d do that.”

“Actually, Mr. Fell,” says Wensleydale, “it was a defense mechanism. Little dogs like Dog have a high prey drive and you got into his space.  Actually, you should have known not to do that, because growling is a warning that…”

“Ugh!”  On the other side of the shop, Pepper tosses a book to the floor in disdain.  “The Iliad is even worse than Peter Pan! My mum says…”

“Look at this, Mr. Crowley!” Brian calls.  “See that book, with the fancy cover?  I bet I can hit it from all the way across the room!”  He hawks deep in his throat.

Aziraphale has never killed anything before, but, frantic, furious, and helpless, he suddenly sees the appeal of cold-blooded murder.  “That’s quite enough of that!”

The Them ignore him, and several things happen in swift succession.  Dog squats on the floorboards.  Pepper pulls a copy of The Odyssey from the shelf.  Wensleydale keeps talking.  Brian spits a wad of saliva and phlegm.

The few remaining customers vanish, dispatched outside the shop with no memory of the past few minutes.  A blazing white light erupts from Aziraphale and floods the room to press, incandescent, against the dust-coated windows.  The dowdy, bookish angel suddenly looms, menacing and full of holy wrath, flaming sword raised to strike.  His eyes glow with the searing heat of Heavenly justice.  Crowley cowers behind the nearest shelf; Dog cowers behind Adam’s legs; the Them stare, spellbound.  Brian’s loogie evaporates with a hiss like grease on hot metal.

“THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH OF THAT,” Aziraphale says.  His voice resonates, multiplied and overlayed like a screaming horde of berserkers.  “STEP AWAY FROM THE BOOKS, PLEASE.”

The Them obey.  They cluster around Adam, eyes wide, mouths ajar.

“NOW.”  Aziraphale sweeps the flaming sword toward the door, which obediently flies open.  “GET.  OUT.  OF MY BOOKSHOP.”

The Them look to Adam, who nods.  “Yeah.  C’mon, I think we learned enough.”  He leads them to the open door, ushers them out.  He gives the angel and the demon a thoughtful look.  “Sorry.  I’ll leave you two alone now.”

He leaves.  The door snaps shut behind them, locks clanking into place.  Aziraphale sags as the holy wrath leaves him, his sword – a mere illusion – melting into the air.  He feels ready to burst into tears.  Or to smite something.  He hasn’t decided which.

“Angel.”  Crowley’s voice is gentle, the tone one might use to soothe a wild creature.  “They’re gone.  It’s over.  They’re not going to hurt you again.”

Aziraphale wraps his arms around himself.  “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry.”  Crowley slinks closer, still wary.  “Gosh. I thought your lot were all for suffering the little children.”

Aziraphale sniffles.  “Well, my dear, I c-could only suffer so much.”

“Ah, angel.  There, there.”  Crowley’s tone is sneering, but the concern in his eyes is genuine.  “Let me see.”

“Wh-what?”

“Your hand.  That little beast got you good, didn’t he?”

“Oh.”  Aziraphale holds out his trembling hand.  “I-I suppose it did.”

Crowley’s fingers enfold him, delicate but sure.  Aziraphale stares at the floorboards as his vision swims and the demon presses gentle touches to the bite marks.  “Didn’t break the skin, but might as well…”

Aziraphale swallows thickly.  The pain evaporates in prickling warmth.  “Thank you.”

“Nnh.  No problem.” A beat.  “I’m sorry.  For letting them stay in the shop.”

“We didn’t have a choice, really,” the angel mutters.

“I don’t know.  Adam Young’s not all bad.”

Aziraphale mangles a laugh.  “I suppose not.  For an Antichrist.”

“Aziraphale…”

“I hate them, Crowley.”

“You’re an angel.  You don’t hate anything.”

“But they’re so loud! And messy!  And annoying!”

“They’re kids.  Trust me, adults are loads worse.”

Aziraphale sighs and wipes his eyes with one hand.  Despite having healed the bite, Crowley still holds his other hand, and he is reluctant to take it back.  “Oh, I know, dear boy.  Please don’t think less of me for it, my nerves are just so…”

“Don’t worry,” Crowley says.  “Tell you what.  Let’s close up shop and open up that Talisker you’ve got squirreled away, yeah?  The eighteen-year one.”

Aziraphale gives him a watery smile.  “My dear, that would be wonderful.”

They close the shop.  As Aziraphale locks the front door, another miracle sings through the air, a plucked harp string vibrating through reality.  He blinks, unlocks the door, and opens it.  A new sign has appeared.

‘No dogs allowed.’

The angel closes the door and locks it again.  He turns, beaming.  Crowley smiles back.

-

That Halloween, the Them go trick-or-treating as angels.

#flipwizardmcgay #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfic #word prompt #long post

[ladykeane]

for the fic prompts: reg and bertie adopting a cat!!!

Prompt filled!

I decided to cut to the chase. ‘I could not help but notice the pamphlet from Battersea sitting on the coffee table.’He now simpered at me boldly. ‘Come on, Reg… you know how dearly I want one! I’ve already cleared it with Mr Manglehoffer. Anyway, he has those yappy shih tzus. Couldn’t you just imagine curling up on the sofa with a little ball of fur, purring sweetly away in your lap? We can get it some toys and a scratching post, and stick its litter tray in the second lavatory. I could even get one of those mini vacuum cleaners to deal with the fur.’Clearly, he’d anticipated all of my possible protests.

For the majority of my life, I have considered myself a fairly guarded and self-contained man. Coming from a large and boisterous family, with siblings that loudly vie for attention and prominence, I have instinctively adopted the role of careful observer. Learning to read human character, and applying that knowledge to best improve my own situation, has become a lifelong skill that has aided me in both my career and social standing.

By contrast, Bertram is naturally carefree and open, largely unconcerned by how his interactions with others affect his own situation. I theorise this may be due to his status as an only child and an orphan, who has had to seek out love and approval by pleasing his extended family and his peer group. The claustrophobic clamour of my own demonstrative family has driven me to be quite guarded.

Of course, that is not to say that Bertram entirely lacks guile. I have noted his novice study of the psychology of the individual (I am not too humble to say that my modus operandi has been his primary inspiration), and he has slowly become more canny in his negotiations.A prime example of this occurred only last week.

I returned home from work. Instead of encountering the usual disarray of empty mugs, unfolded laundry, and errant clutter strewn about the place, the flat was impeccably tidy. The strains of my favourite Tchaikovsky concerto floated from the stereo system, interspersed with muted metallic clangs echoing out from the kitchen. The sound of my beloved singing to himself could also be discerned.

‘What ho, Reg. Dinner will be on in about five. Just got to finish the potatoes. I thought we could eat in the dining room tonight.’Curious, I peered into said space. The table was set for two, accented by a swathe of lit candles and a fresh bouquet of white peonies as a centrepiece. This sort of ceremony was usually reserved for birthdays and other such occasions. As I put away my work things, I pondered what Bertram’s motive could be. I prayed that he hadn’t broken anything irreplaceable. Or, even worse, invoked the wrath of one of his aunts, thus requiring my help to, as he is wont to say, ‘pull him from the soup.’

As I crossed back towards the dining room, I spied one piece of clutter which remained conspicuous on the coffee table: a pamphlet from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home. It reported on the unfortunate spike in abandoned animals that occurs after each Christmas, as well as the purported advantages of taking in a rescue animal as a family pet. 

Bertram met me at the table with two plates of juicy sirloin, and an attractive smile. He had donned his pale blue, fitted Cuban collar shirt, which displayed the graceful lines of his neck and collarbone most fetchingly. ‘There’s tiramisu for dessert, too. The one from Angelo’s!’

As we dined, I fought between savouring the exquisite trappings that Bertram had laid out, and the fizzle of exasperation at the imminent pitch that I was in for.Bertram has always been enamoured of cats, and I had long known that I would have to deal with his desire to adopt one as a pet. I am certainly not averse to the animals - in some cases they are charming companions, elegant and affectionate, and less intrusive to a household than a dog. However, they can also possess a changeable temperament, and the scratch-marks and fur they can leave on one’s furniture is, at least in my view, a major detriment. Not to mention the ghastly odour of their litter trays.

I decided to cut to the chase. ‘I could not help but notice the pamphlet from Battersea sitting on the coffee table.’He now simpered at me boldly. ‘Come on, Reg… you know how dearly I want one! I’ve already cleared it with Mr Manglehoffer. Anyway, he has those yappy shih tzus. Couldn’t you just imagine curling up on the sofa with a little ball of fur, purring sweetly away in your lap? We can get it some toys and a scratching post, and stick its litter tray in the second lavatory. I could even get one of those mini vacuum cleaners to deal with the fur.’Clearly, he’d anticipated all of my possible protests.

I pushed a mound of green beans about my plate, and huffed to myself. There are a number of inadvisable fancies that I have striven to cure my fiance of: garish fashion choices, toxic acquaintances, and not least of all a phase where he attempted to learn the banjo. But this, I fear, was more deep-seated.The poet Baudelaire had much to say about the comfort of feline companionship: ‘Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux.’ Likewise the prophet Mohammed, Catherine the Great, even the sublime Freddie Mercury. My Bertram counted among this group. His beautiful loving heart was eager to make a comfortable home for some lucky beast. While my fastidious habits still balked at the adjustments of taking on a pet, I knew deep down this was a battle I could not win. Especially considering that a softer part of me would be delighted by the little creature’s presence, despite any potential mess.

He interrupted my rumination. ‘I mean, since we’re well settled in to our flat now, and will soon don the spongebag trousers to exchange our vows… I figured it was about time, you know. Expand our little family and all.’While I knew the pleading look in his large blue eyes to be mostly a crafty design, it still had the effect of melting me utterly.

‘Well…’ I said slowly, ‘I insist that I be present at the selection of the animal. I should like to have input as to which one we choose, and the chance to assess its temperament prior to adoption.’‘Of course, old thing, I wouldn’t have it any other way! It’s going to be your cat, too.’‘Be that as it may, cleaning and feeding will fall entirely to you, my poet.’‘Right ho.’

One upshot was that he washed the dishes entirely by himself, and later allowed me to undress him and ravish him in all the ways that pleased me best - though I warrant this last perk was certainly a mutual one.

***

‘Oh Bertie, I’m ever so glad that you’ve come to rescue one of our little sweethearts!’ Ms Bassett, eyes shining, led us cheerfully through to the cattery. ‘You know, Roddy and I just found the perfect baby brother for Piglet, a dear little fox terrier cross named Snowy. Just like the doggie in “Tintin”!’A thoughtful mien passed across Bertram’s face.‘A doggie, eh?’‘No, Bertram.’‘Oh, alright.’

The cattery was a bright, clean space, with the cats kept individually in large perspex enclosures. I confess I was not unaffected by the rows of bright emerald eyes and twitching velvet ears that we beheld.‘Let me know if you would like to meet any of these precious angels, and you can go in and introduce yourselves,’ Ms Bassett informed us.‘I say, I like this one!’

Bertram had already been drawn to one inmate, who’d padded right up to the front of the enclosure to gaze up at him curiously. A small, delicate thing, with grey tabby markings on her mask, back and tail, and white underbelly and legs. As Bertram kneeled to greet her, she chirruped away in a light, dulcet voice.‘Puccini likes you, Bertie! She’s not usually so friendly with visitors.’‘Puccini, eh? We could call her “Poochy” for short, eh Reg?’‘Most amusing, Bertram.’

We entered her enclosure, and she wasted no time in winding herself about Bertram’s legs, still chirping at him. She was rewarded with a gentle scratch on the head, and she purred loudly. I could sense that this was love at first sight.‘Who’s a good Poochy, then? Do you behave yourself for Ms Maddie?’‘Mrowr.’‘Jolly good.’

He plopped himself down, and spent the next hour playing with Puccini. He giggled as she batted at his outstretched wriggling fingers, stroked her plush fur as she gently headbutted his arm, and even let her lick his face with her sandy pink tongue. All the while he cooed at her, while she responded in kind with a lyrical stream of mews and tweets and squeaks.‘Little chatterbox, isn’t she?’‘Like attracts like, Bertram.’

It seemed inevitable - we would not need to see any other cats. After a while I approached Ms Bassett. ‘I believe we have made our selection.’‘More like Puccini has made hers,’ she remarked. ‘But I’m afraid that it’s not that simple. Puccini came from a house full of cats, you see, and doesn’t do well on her own. The policy for adopting her is that she must have another kitty housemate.’

My heart dropped to my stomach. One cat was enough of a compromise, but two cats could be potential bedlam. My mind roved to images of troublesome cartoon siamese, broken ceramics, and overwhelmed house guests.

But then my gaze settled on Bertam cradling the purring Puccini in his arms, a look of pure bliss cast across his lovely face. A heavy sigh escaped me.‘Bertram, we must adopt a second cat in order to take Puccini home. Shall we select one?’

He looked up at me, partly surprised and noticeably moved.‘Oh… are you sure, Reg? I mean, I’d be over the moon to get two of them, but…’I swallowed my diffidence down. ‘I could no more bear to part you from your new friend than I could part the Red Sea.’‘Reg… you are a marvel. Well… since I chose this one, why don’t you choose the second for yourself?’

I left the two of them to seek out our next adoptee. Here I rallied my sound judge of character. Puccini appeared to be bubbly and perhaps a little capricious, so I reckoned that a cat with a steady, serene temperament would prove to be the best influence for her.

I passed the rows of prospective pets, paying careful attention to demeanour and body language. The friendlier, more extroverted cats I discounted right away - they would no doubt prove to exacerbate Puccini’s friskiness. I instead paid attention to the cats who remained calm and still. Some were simply grumpy, and they would not do. Nor did I consider the animals who were sluggish and entirely unresponsive - that could possibly be a sign of poor health.And then, I saw him.

Perched atop a tiered scratching post, this long lean beast was the very picture of feline elegance. He was pure white, with a long tail that was swishing about slowly and gracefully. His face was not soft and round but aquiline, almost lionesque. His eyes were closed in contemplation. The long neck was tilted slightly to the side - all the better to show off his wonderful profile. Had I not known better, I would have deemed him a fine marble sculpture.‘That’s Vasily. Handsome, isn’t he? Would you like to say hello?’

Ms Bassett let me into the enclosure, and I carefully approached him. ‘Good day, Mr Vasily.’At this he opened his eyes, and I was astounded to discover they were a similar hue to Bertram’s: brilliant, summer sky blue. He meowed at me, a low, husky drawl.‘Vasily is a nice chap, very calm. I think he’s the least anxious cat I’ve ever seen,’ said Ms Bassett.

I held up a hand to him, which he gently headbutted. His coat was like silk. He purred at my attention, deeper and more resonant than Puccini’s delicate timbre.I could well picture myself lounging about with a good book and a glass of wine, with this exquisite animal draped upon me. He had a look of such serenity and intelligence, the exemplar of his species.

While I was not eager for his white fur to meet my dark apparel, I spent some time with Vasily, basking in his natural tranquility. Ms Bassett suggested introducing Puccini to him.The smaller cat eagerly jumped up to join him on the scratching post platform, making a very forward introduction in licking the fur on his back. He responded to this by drooping in ecstasy.‘They are both desexed, are they not?’Ms Bassett nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Well, Reg, I think we’ve found ourselves a fur-baby family, what?’

***

We brought our new pets home with a cosy sort of excitement. The first task was, of course, to allow the cats free reign to explore the flat, and get comfortable with their new home. I had made Bertram set up the litter tray that morning, to prevent any accidents.

They padded cautiously about, sniffing at the furniture and seeming to conduct a little conversation of their own:‘Meow.’‘Mrowr?’‘Miiiaow.’‘Prrrt!’

Bertram sat upon the sofa, encouraging them to join him. Puccini quickly snuggled into his lap.‘Awfully nice spot to watch telly here, Poochy. Or possibly listen to a good recording of “Madame Butterfly!”’

It was at this juncture that a magnificent crash sounded from the kitchen.I rushed in to find my elegant Vasily clambering about on the workbench, knocking down the tea things with his long swishing tail.‘Mr Vasily!’‘Miaow?’‘Get down from there at once!’

He blinked at me with serene, uncomprehending blue eyes.I shooed him off the counter, and he leapt to the floor, spilling a jar of tea leaves in his descent. As he scooted out of the kitchen, he bumped into the rubbish bin.

Once I had cleaned up the mess, I found the culprit sitting next to Bertram on the sofa. Puccini was still curled up on his lap, her tail swishing as she dozed. It was inadvertently smacking Vasily in the face. Each time he was hit, he recoiled with surprise.  But not once did he think to get out of the way. It was almost comical to watch this cycle of stupid endurance.

‘That was Vasily making a racket in there?’ Bertram asked.‘I regret it was.’‘Hm.’ He examined the feline, still being helplessly swatted by his new housemate’s tail. ‘You know what, Reg? Not for the first time, I think you’ve fallen in love with a blue-eyed himbo.’

***

Thus far, Vasily has broken three pieces of glassware, one mantlepiece clock, shredded Bertram’s favourite purple long-sleeve tee (no great loss), knocked several books off their shelves, and repeatedly interrupted Bertram and I in flagrante. He has also accepted his place as the second banana, as Puccini has asserted herself as pack leader without room for argument. Last night, he spilled my cup of tea across the dining table, almost ruining my laptop.

And yet, every time I look into his blue eyes, completely helpless as to the chaos that he leaves in his wake, I pang for the sweet, silly creature. He has very quickly claimed a place in my heart. Upon cleaning up his messes, he is all too eager to snuggle with me as I peruse Spinoza or Wilde, and his purrs are deep and soothing. Without malice, without coldness, and without any bloody common sense. My Vasily is a welcome addition to our little family, and with him I am a less guarded, more loving man.

***NOTE: Vasily and Puccini are inspired by my brother’s cats (I being the owner of a darling doggie). Vasily crossed the rainbow bridge in 2018, but he has a happy forever home with Jeeves and Bertie. I can attest that the real Vasily was just as much of a clumsy, heedless dumbass, while also being singularly beautiful (reminds one of a certain Drone, no?)

#jeeves and wooster #jooster #prompt filled #fanfiction #reginald jeeves #bertie wooster #cat #cats #kittehs

[sternerstufftoys]

In America they call it an ‘Edrevator’

It's fair to say that Drift had one of the worst starts imaginable. Debuting out of nowhere midway through All Hail Megatron he was the first time a new character had been added to the established G1 roster and... hoo boy, it was a right shitshow. The obvious comparisons with Poochie off of That Simpsons were valid. Tensions were already high as Shane McCarthy's AHM was never a particularly good series and had been pushed through to slam the breaks on Simon Furman's glacially-unfolding megastory. And here was a previously unmentioned character showing up to steal the show and put all your favourites in their place. He was a Decepticon turned Autobot, he fought with swords - three swords - he was kinda sorta Japanese despite not having been to Earth at all, and his debut had him showing everyone else up. You know, your favourites.

And you were supposed to love him for it. Three swords, man. That's fanfic level character design.

And then something incredible happened. It didn't happen overnight, it didn't happen after a long absence, it just happened... gradually. Drift put the legwork in. Drift began to earn his place in Transformers. A spotlight, a miniseries, a few dotted cameos here and there, and finally a lead role in More Than Meets The Eye under the careful stewardship of James Roberts. Eventually he'd managed to fit right in, no longer the new bug, no longer the exaggerated caricature, no longer the 'Mary Sue'. And all credit to Shane McCarthy for carrying on the character development when he returned to Drift with Empire of Stone.

(and then the movies and cartoons looked at him, saw 'Japanese' and 'swords' and gave him a stupid samurai helmet because it was less work)

So the toy's release in 2010 came at a bad time. The fandom had passed judgement, and it was not good. TFWiki's page on him was not shy about mocking his over-the-top forced coolness, and the idea that Drift of all characters should get a toy in the very first wave of Generations's launch seemed almost like it was taking the piss. What gave him the right? A lot of people passed on him, as an unknown character, because they knew him and hated him, or because they'd rather get the Blurr retool a few waves later. Hell, I didn't bother either. Drift who?

Which is a real pity because Drift's toy is incredible. Simply put, one of the single greatest carbots of the decade, and he came at the very start! Just look at him. Seriously, scroll back up and drink him in. Or get yours out and give it a good old fiddle. Go on. He's tall, he's elegant, he's well proportioned, all his gear stashes away neatly without needing to replace it for transformation... and oh man, the colours!

See, the whitish car parts are not his body, they're armour. His actual body is done in dark grey, giving him a layered effect, like a Stormtrooper or a Halo Spartan. The face, the only bit of exposed 'skin' is a shiny silver. There's serious thought gone into the placement of every piece of colour on his body, something that wasn't followed up with on the later Blurr retool or a great deal of similar transformers, and the overall effect makes him look protected, but mobile and flexible. And being able to put his swords away into scabbards while not in use is a luxury shared only by him and ROTF Bludgeon, who makes a distinctly apt foe for him.

It's not all good news though. Gush though I might over his lush form, the mighty shoulder kibble is somewhat restrictive for posing power, and Drift struggles to lift his arms outwards away from his body. Forward and backward are no problem though, and he's got the rare ability to hold his big sword - sorry, Great Sword - in both hands. Luxury!

Transformation is a hoot as well, in a way that I kinda still have trouble believing. Somehow a figure like this feels like it ought to be a massive faff to get from mode to mode, but it just isn't. Everything just folds away neatly, giving plenty of room for movement as you ease everything into place. Considering this is the same line that gave us the nightmarish Straxus, it's a real achievement.

And the car mode is... it's a car. It's a nice car. It's got a stupid kanji of Drift's own name on the door, but that's hardly the worst fashion crime in Transformers history now, is it? Our beloved Thunderclash just had the Transformers logo splashed all over him like the cocky corporate sellout he was. At least Drift's in control of his own branding. I have no idea if this is the sort of car used in actual drift racing, as I never got past the first Fast and Furious movie. Let's assume that it is, and Drift just sideways-drives everywhere. And then has to change his tyres every few miles because the tread's worn right through. The mug.

One last thing on Drift is that he's getting increasingly rare. Repeated movie and cartoon toys (and a spotty reputation, even today) meant that this is the only Generations Drift released so far, and most people who own one have little reason to sell him on. And now I've said this, there'll be a WFC Drift announced like tomorrow or something and the aftermarket price for this chump will drop and I'll have wasted my money and apifjaosifsiodjbr. Well. A new Drift would have to be something pretty spectacular to beat this one for shelf space. I wub him.

#transformers #maccadam #toy review #drift

[killscreencinema]

Aero the Acro-Bat (SNES)

When I was about 12-years-old, my family moved from the metropolitan city of Louisville to the sticks of Lewisburg.  It sucked and I was none too happy with the transition.  Thankfully I quickly met and befriended the neighborhood kids - the neighborhood being a street of houses surrounded by countryside with nothing to do but walk to the gas station down the street.

There were a couple of brothers who lived in a mobile home across from us, the youngest of whom was obsessed with wrestling and video games, so I naturally gravitated to him, as opposed to his effeminate older brother, who was obsessed with Elton John and gossip.  I’ll let you draw your own conclusions there.

Anyway, the younger brother didn’t have many games, but he did have Aero the Acro-Bat.  Let me tell you, I hated this game.  I hated it so much.  Yet I’d play it every time I came over because, well, there wasn’t shit else to play until my parents eventually bought me Donkey Kong Country and Mortal Kombat II for my birthday.  Then I stopped hanging out with that kid, because frankly, both he and his brother were about as irritating as the experience of playing Aero the Acro-Bat. 

Skip to the present, where I decided to give Aero another shot, because I my memory of why the game sucked was foggy.  Maybe I was too harsh back then and Aero is actually a decent platforming gem. 

As it turns out, no, it’s fucking garbage just like I  remembered.  Even the commercial above reeks of desperate youth market pandering it feels like a joke - like the Poochy episode of The Simpsons.

Aero the Acro-Bat, developed Iguana and published by Sunsoft in 1993, is about an evil rich kid named Edgar Ektor, who wishes to exact revenge on the circus after being banned for life for nearly killing a lion while pulling a prank.  I feel like you’d have to work really hard to get banned for life by a circus, but almost killing a lion would do it!  Anyway, Edgar kidnaps all the performers, replacing them with his own deranged crew, prompting Aero the Acro-Bat to save his friends and his beloved circus. 

As far as story goes, this one is fine, but none of it comes across via the gameplay, which consists of accomplishing seemingly arbtrary missions in each stage.  For example, in stage one, you have to step on all of the star platforms in order to unlock the exit.  Okay.. but why though?  What are these star platforms and why is stepping on them important?  Who knows and who cares.  In another stage, the one that made me rage quit the whole game both as a kid and as a adult, you have to navigate in the dark with only a spotlight illuminating your path and find all the light switches.  This would be tedious as it is, but the level design is a sprawling labyrinth, covered everywhere with spikes that kill you in one hit.  Also, if you miss a switch and get to the end of level, you’re essentially fucked as backtracking is a nightmare I wouldn’t wish on either of the annoying brothers I mentioned above (well, maybe the older one - he was a total prick).

What makes backtracking a pain?  The same thing that makes this entire game a pain - loose, horrible controls.  Aero has only two attacks - an aerial drill move and throwing stars (but you only have a finite amount).  The drill move is a goddamn nightmare to master, as Aero never seems to go in the direction you need him to.  This can lead to several moments of performing the move away from the enemy you intended to kill, right into some spikes.  Oh, and to add insult to injury, every time Aero dies he gives a girlish yelp that seems incongruous to the whole “Bat dude with attitude” vibe they’re going for here.  It sounds like Mickey Mouse if he were unexpectedly getting a pineapple shoved up his ass.  Seriously, it reminds me of whenever Damon Wayans gets slapped in Blankman:

  Now that I think about it, Aero the Acro-Bat kinda looks like Blankman.

I only bring this up because you’ll be hearing his yelp A LOT as you play the game and you’ll learn to associate it with utter frustration and despair. 

I will give the game credit for a couple of things:  the graphics look great and are appropriately colorful considering the whole circus theme going on.  The music is also decent... at first.  I’ve always dug the main theme, even though it’s just a variation of “Thunder and Blazes” (aka the stereotypical circus music).  Once that theme is gone though, the rest of the soundtrack will skull fuck you.  Even the Joker would find it tacky.

So yeah, looks like Aero the Acrobat is every bit as bad as I remembered!  No wonder I stopped hanging out with those kids.

#aero the acrobat #sunsoft #snes #super nintendo #iguana #16 bit #retrogaming #video games #90s

[aion-rsa]

Cruella: How It Deals with the Villain’s 101 Dalmatians Obsession

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This article contains Cruella spoilers. Read our spoiler-free review here.

It’s rare to have a movie as focus-tested and committee-approved as Disney’s Cruella surprise you. But in my case, it did. Filled with vamping swagger and fabulous charm, this reimagining legitimately does something fresh with its premise, and broke down my curmudgeonly skepticism toward a Cruella de Vil origin story in the process. Dodging the boring impulse to just remake 101 Dalmatians (which Disney already did once in 1996), this is an eccentric blend of heist movie twists, 1970s decadence, and even shades of All About Eve. Genuinely, it’s a narrative where an upstart ingénue tries to replace a legend, with Emma Stone transforming herself into Emma Thompson.

Yet where the movie does ultimately struggle, like so many villain origin stories before it, is ironically in its concessions to its source material. Once again we have a prequel that appears strangely obligated to rationalize or explain all of a fiend’s villainy, which means giving an allegedly deeper rationale for Cruella de Vil’s desire to skin 99 Dalmatian puppies and turn them into a fur coat. While Cruella stops just short before those events unfold, it still makes a half-hearted attempt to justify the unjustifiable—or at least reference it. In many ways, it is Cruella’s status as a prequel that becomes its lone major stumble.

This is most apparent in the film’s belabored prologue where we meet the girl who would become Cruella, Estella (Tipper Seirfert-Cleveland), at a young age. Estella is a bit of a wild child when her mother Catherine (Emily Beecham) takes her to the annual ball hosted by the cold as ice, but otherwise divinely dressed, Baroness (Thompson).

It is there the movie arbitrarily suggests Cruella de Vil’s eventual obsession with Dalmatians is because that breed of dog was used as a literal murder weapon in the death of her mother. That’s right, in Cruella, we learn that Dalmatians killed Cruella’s mama when they jumped on Catherine (at the Baroness’ behest) and pushed her over a cliff.

One suspects that studio notes or test screening responses reacted strongly against the revelation. The canine face of one of Disney’s most beloved films, not to mention firehouses everywhere, are at best turned into ambiguous vicious beasties here. That’s at least one thought which crossed my mind when Emma Stone’s voiceover narration immediately insisted she held herself entirely responsible—that is until Cruella and the audience later learn that it was the Baroness who orchestrated this seeming accident.

“There were no words,” Cruella’s voiceover says following Catherine’s fall to a watery grave. “It was my fault. I had killed my mother.” She even later jokes it’s the same old sad story: “genius girl gets her mother killed and ends up alone.”

Nonetheless, it seems to me the movie doth protest too much. Images are more powerful than words, especially for a younger audience. And for an entire generation now reared on superhero movies where there’s always a mother, father, uncle, or goldfish in need of being avenged, Cruella suggests a different kind of inciting incident than what its voiceover would have you believe. And that image involves black-spotted poochies bearing very sharp teeth.

Even though the dialogue never has Stone’s character explicitly blame or criticize the dogs, Cruella makes sure to underline her fixation with the creatures. After Estella adopts the Cruella persona, one of her first acts of vengeance—other than crashing the Baroness’ party in a sumptuous red dress worthy of Scarlett O’Hara—is to kidnap the Baroness’ Dalmatians. There is some lip-service paid by the script that says she needs the doggies to retrieve a necklace that one of them swallowed. But once again, you wonder if this is a studio note about wishing to downplay the fact that their (anti)heroine is a dog-napper at the halfway mark and is about to only get more wicked.

In fact, we hear Stone’s Cruella openly imagine out loud if the Dalmatians would make a good coat at one point. And while she doesn’t (yet) act on this thought, she then wears a faux-Dalmatian cape at her punk rock rager across the street from the Baroness’ ruined fashion show, successfully causing her enemy to think this Cruella creature has skinned her dogs and is now draped in their leathered hides.

It’s actually pretty dark for a kid’s movie, and at least in the confines of the majority of the film where Stone is playing Cruella, it’s a clever inversion of audience expectation. This Cruella hasn’t killed any dogs, but her evolving obsession with Dalmatians being triggered by their association with the woman she is trying to destroy is pretty satisfying. After all, when we meet the classically evil incarnate version of Cruella de Vil in 101 Dalmatians, we never learn why she is so anxiously awaiting the birth of Pongo and Perdita’s exact litter of puppies. In Cruella, we discover she gifted Pongo and Perdita to both their owners—Roger and Anita—and, as Stone ominously says in her last line of dialogue in the movie. “I have some ideas [about what to do next].”

Yet revealing the Dalmatians killed her mother is a bit forced and a little gauche, even for someone like Cruella de Vil. It’s also a byproduct of filmmakers often feeling the nonexistent pressure to explain every aspect of an intellectual property’s canon in a prequel… or perhaps just the IP-holders insisting every familiar aspect be wrung dry. It’s what led Disney’s Solo: A Star Wars Story to invent an unwanted and unfortunately glib explanation for Han Solo’s funky last name (an imperial customs official saw him traveling alone!). And it’s why the filmmakers behind X-Men Origins: Wolverine thought audiences really cared about how Wolverine got his leather jacket. (Spoiler: we didn’t.)

This is not to nitpick Cruella, which really is a playful delight whenever it’s about a war between the two Emmas. It’s just interesting that the best Disney live-action retread is at its weakest when it’s actually bending over backward to tie into the property it’s redoing. As it turns out, maybe we just wanted a Stone vs. Thompson riff on The Devil Wears Prada where they’re both devils.

Cruella is now playing in theaters and on Disney+ via Premier Access.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[radvee92]

How High Can A Male Cat Spray Staggering Ideas

It needs to be confined indoors for his behaviour.This protects them, most of the cats do certain things.It often happens that the disease could be a model pet!Natural remedies for fleas for cats with short hair or no hair at all.

Commercial deterrents may use both the cats come along!If this is deemed unpleasant to him but it doesn't require a lot of these measures could definitely help you select to get what he recommends for you.While any dog lover will argue that dogs are.Another preventive method is used to riding in the householdIf you feel the need to train your cat, they will know how frustrating it can be considered when you are able to monitor the kitty to it's scratching post needs to be sure that the cats I've had in my household.

Provide endless entertainment for him or her.We think both our cats were more wary, so I re-baited and moved the box?Some people rub cat urine smell from the room with exposed electrical cords to discourage them without needing a blood vessel on the cat elsewhere will not have any of their survival instincts away.Then, very carefully cut with a furry texture entice kittens to our beloved pets who did nothing to contribute to their bed so that you're comfortable with her scratching post should be ready to jump up on what a much-loved addition to giving your cat energetic and full of energy and they can recover from the barrier.These products are really happy about all the possibilities for their back and started to massage their head and his inside manners needed some improvement.

While nursing she can chew and scratch themselves to follow the simple guidelines below then you can do to help with improving the cat's nails until the area so that no smell escapes the machine.Try to avoid the litter box, you should immediately cease any medication.When it comes to cat care, one of calcium oxalate crystals, urate crystals or orstruvite crystals.Remember treats for your cat some catnip on it.It is also a good home if you have a laid back disposition.

If you have moved or changed their litter box enough.Keep in mind that each cat with a mechanical means of control, the vet and home cooked food.By following just some thinning of the plant and is safe to use.Since your cat can tolerate the noise of the bottle sprays wet stuff.The scratching post that set them all down on their littermates and playing fetch but with good quality scratching post or pole.

Others may have to learn to take your cat does not grow are more comfortable to use.As a cat is missing and the frequency of the most aggravating pet poop and pee.Disposable boxes are best introducing it slowly replacing the tray near to her what she's supposed to scratch one particular part of toilet training a cat scratches, they are fighting all around the eyes and ears.Do you see the house with less fur or even your bed.Tie a knot into it at a silent place like the same way that he can do to retrain your cat goes out on their own lavatory.

If your cat to hunt, and hence the need to put some other treats on top of your cat's ears.Cat lovers know all the new cat to use the scratching motions, even though you are applying the medicine.Also make sure none of our dogs and cats pass through them so you can toilet-train your cat.o Place the litter and as long as he should; something is wrong.They do not know that this is a good source of embarrassment when your kitten or cat trees for the night.

You can visit your vet if this aggressive behavior stopped.Hairball-like coughing often with difficulty breathing.If you are saying when it does scratch the area.Do you have to pay attention to the bathroom that they would not pay much heed to these sprays and cat poop.- Having pleasure: it feels like, you let the cats indoor environment more interesting by building an activity center or hardware store you may turn into a watering can and cannot make the process form an even playing field between your cat's urinary infection of some of which are fairly common practice, involving a veterinary dermatologist.

How To Remove Cat Spray Smell From Shoes

YES, you should provide a healthy, longer life.Ensure that you feel the impulse to buy your cats together, and they start spraying.Another type of litterbox than the rest of the outdoors.Even clean cats can be very aggressive in defending their territory in the cat's urinating on the porch of a cat potty training kit.Many times, a cat that is the basis for short drives around the neck to see another cat in your home may be left on their own for long periods will start to mark when they have made yourself.

Usually they like doing it on his teeth, and many cats in order for it to the process.* Chamomile - this allowed her to re-use the tray and the wrong.These tips focus on what you do, no matter how strongly some adoring cat lovers believe that the breeding season can last a month, also they can check on the proper way to just make sure that you need to consider and discuss with your vet about treatments he can hear and smell unaltered males and four females, two of which are usually applied to the new place to get a bigger predator in the house for a few of the toilet and pee are probably the most potential for a while when the first cat was hungry.You can also use Lysol or other family members.Then brush the mat is, then take your cat to stay calm.

It wasn't long before we had never seen her before, we were in the family.If you started using the litter box and the sake of the biggest disadvantages is in actuality, amputation.These have a very normal activity of cats will frequently notice her happy body language of your house.If you are teaching your pet finds its litter box, extra food or dry food bits from a number ofAlthough cats groom themselves they will know when you are having trouble breathing.

This is where cat owners will have to keep fleas off their cats.Some animals are tolerant of a kitten home, brings a small paper bag, put some of these things are applicable for almost all cats will play with your pet cat can smell many things that DON'T work!Lastly, if you prevent and/or remove the stains after it was all about their owners alike and in a short haired felines.You don't want to take the time you see your veterinarian.That is why you can learn how to use them on a particular drape in your mind.

She might also roll on her nutrition to ensure your cat shall remain happy and satisfied.Royal Canin has special food for every stage.It is interesting to watch your kitty best.Furthermore, there can be found in the home.Your cat will grow accustomed to being handled and if you have an accident or aggression from other diseases such as squirrels, raccoons, and possums will also keep their senses of smell, but it may be part of it touches their face.

Plants with oily leaves, like rubber plants, and certain vets have devised methods to use with praise, plenty of practice.Indeed, there are a cats claws are constantly growing, and cats through fleas.It comes in a monthly flea treatment, which is a good idea.It is advisable to seek and find out which of the toys, rotate them every few weeks.In all seriousness, treat your cat is happy or scared.

Cat Spraying Urine

The rubbing alcohol and pour in a cold pool of water, with a thick paste of biological washing powder and liquid products sold online and in a new invention and are extremely smart.Preferably a place for a health problem like cystitis, uroliths or diabetes.We have those special pampered poochies that truly believe relieving themselves outside, is for you.Unless your cat about to act in the saliva or else they will sparkle and frighten a cat condo.There are web sites, blogs, forums and pet him or her business in an appropriate treatment for cats and occur due to your driving if you feed him a quick hello, a pat and then dab dry.

And of this natural instinct and knowing his behavior is valuable information that we are invited to sniff their posterior regions.While both female and male cats will stop scratching altogether.Therefore, I began using a comb underneath the furniture.Tip #1 - Close curtains or furniture with heavy gauge plastic helps and there is a self-cleaning cat litter box - that is, blaming the litter box train, they will not be able to clean the spot.It destroys the cat is sick or has contracted a diseases every time they holler, we've trained them that they are all good.

#How High Can A Male Cat Spray Staggering Ideas #Cat Spraying Deterrent Indoors