#sergeant pooch

[pedritogames]

Essa é a Sargento Poochi de "Vai, Cachorro. Vai!", mas no estilo de "Gui e Estopa"

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

The Sweetest Constant

Pairing: ARF Trooper Hound x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sergeant Hound comes to your pet store needing supplies for his new K9. Fluff ensues.

Warnings: None. Hound is a perfectly sweet cinnamon roll who does no wrong and I am taking no questions.

Word Count: 2260

A/N: Written for the amazing @the-bad-batch-baroness! Hope you enjoy it lovely!

A few notes/translations before we start:

Centaxday - second day of the Galactic Standard Calendar week

Zhellday - fourth day of the Galactic Standard Calendar week

Besom - ill-mannered lout, unhygienic person, someone with no manners

It was Centaxday the first time you met. The gentle jingle of the bell as the door of your humble shop opened brought you back from your daydream. You rose from your seat to greet the Coruscant Guard ARF trooper who strolled him. His armor was shiny and unblemished. The kit paint looked freshly applied. His kama possessed no blaster burns yet.

“‘Mornin’.” His warm baritone crackled through the vocoder of his helmet. You couldn’t see his face but you could hear a tinge of excitement in his greeting.

“Good morning! What can I do for you, sir?”

“Ahh no sir, please.” He waved a dismissive hand before it came to rest on the back of his neck. “Sergeant Hound. But just Hound is fine. Gettin’ my K9 tomorrow and I want to make sure she’s set.”

“You came to the right place, Hound! Have a look around and let me know if you have any questions.”

He bounced on the balls of his feet before he stepped away from you, his elation palpable. He had the energy of a child receiving their first pet and you loved watching this grown man trying to reel in the abundance of joy bubbling through the shiny white and red armor.

He tried to appear casual as he meandered through your shop eyeing various pet accessories, treats, and food. You watched him curiously as he ran his hands over a fluffy pink puppy sweater, with all the ardor of an expectant father. You’d only ever seen the Corries from a distance and you were slightly awestruck by his presence. Respectful yet commanding, he walked with a confidence that made him incredibly attractive even having not seen his face. And his obvious excitement about his new K9 may have been the most attractive thing you’d seen ever.

You cleared your throat. “I don’t mean to pry but what will your K9 be?”

He glanced over from the shelves of treats. “Massiff. She’s still a pup. We start training tomorrow.”

You circled around the counter, coming to stand to his right. Even through the armor he smelled wonderful, woodsy and fresh.

“These.” You pointed at a large blue box with a cartoon massif on the front. “These are my best selling massiff treats. Everyone who buys them raves about how much their pooches love them!”

He tilted his helmet toward you before taking the box from the shelf. “Thanks. Any other suggestions?” The lightness to his tone betrayed the smile hidden under the helmet.

You nodded and guided him around the store. Soon his arms were stacked high with collars, leashes, dishes, a training clicker, food, a bed, and the pink sweater, just the right size for a wee massiff.

You packed everything for him in a box and he informed you the GAR would be picking up the bill.

You slumped in your chair once he’d left, overwhelmed by how quickly you’d taken to a man whose face you’d never seen. A face, you’d assumed you’d never see.

It was Zhellday when you saw him again.

The park near your shop was the ideal place for you to take your kima pup; minimal crowds, quiet, and slow paced. It allowed for a slow transition into socializing for your excessively anxious puppy. At least that was the case on most days.

“Grizzer! Grizzer! Stop! Heel! Grizzer, you besom!!”

You spun around, hearing the frantic voice accompanied by enthusiastic yelps quickly approaching you. You snatched up your bitty kima as he trembled like a leaf in the wind. The grinning massiff pup donning a familiar pink sweater came skidding to a halt at your feet. Not far behind was the slobbery pup's handler.

“I am so sorry about her! We just started training and she’s still excitable!” He huffed, catching his breath as he bent over to pick up the leash.

You blinked in disbelief at first. You hadn’t seen his face when he’d come to your store a few days prior. He’d been decked out in his entire kit last time. Today he only had on armor from the waist down and his kama. His broad shoulders and chest were accentuated by the skin tight black body glove with the Galactic Roundel emblazoned on it. Behind the warmth of his brown eyes was a spark that threatened to outshine the galaxy. Those same mesmerizing eyes studied you intently while a bashful blush darkened his ears.

His hair was shaved into a tidy undercut with the extra length tied into a bun in the back. He puffed, pushing the dark curls from his sweaty forehead.

“It’s okay. I get it. Puggle is still pretty excitable too. But…” you held up your own pup. “He’s a little smaller than…Grizzer was it?”

He looked away sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, Grizzer.”

“And you’re Hound, right?”

He chuckled. “You remember me.”

“I couldn’t forget a Corrie who bought his massiff a pink sweater. Looks great on her by the way.”

Grizzer danced around your feet with happy tippy taps and impatient whines. She looked from you to Hound and gave her butt an excited wiggle.

Hound grinned proudly. “Yeah she’s pretty cute. Pink is definitely her color. She loves those treats by the way.”

You beamed at his praise, delving into a hundred questions about how training was coming along and if he needed more supplies. Eventually you bid each other farewell for the second time and you prayed to the Force it wouldn’t be the last.

Days turned into weeks. Whether it was the Force or something more intentional, you and Hound encountered each other with increasing frequency. Sometimes you’d see him on duty patrolling the park where you walked Puggle. Sometimes he was training Grizzer there, half clad in armor, often drenched in sweat under the exertion of handling his enthusiastic massif. If you managed to catch his attention he always gave you a friendly wave. And sometimes he showed up at your shop unannounced. It was always under the guise of making a purchase (always charged to the GAR). But his visits were becoming more frequent and accompanied by fewer purchases. Not that you were bothered. He was divinely handsome, charming, and sweet as chocolate covered camby berries. To say you were enraptured by him was an understatement.

He’d often spend hours leaning against the counter, his bucket casually resting next to him as he chatted with you about anything and everything under the Coruscant sun. He loved telling you about his brothers. Fox and his caf addiction and inability to decompress. Thorn and his penchant for chaos. Thire and his smart mouth that always got him into trouble. Stone’s endless patience and his refusal to engage in small talk of any kind. You loved seeing his face animate as he talked about them, his love and adoration for his brothers was apparent.

He was funny. You often found yourself laughing until you had tears streaming down your cheeks and both of you were gasping to catch your breath through fits of giggles. He was thoughtful as well, volunteering to help with heavy orders or reaching the top shelves. It was those times that your heart fluttered as if it were a butterfly trying to escape captivity. Especially when your hands would brush in passing or he would press into your back, caging you in as he lifted boxes over your head.

However, it was his love for animals that had bewitched you entirely. You’d watched him carefully tend frighted song sparrows and tookas in the park with no hesitation. He’d rescue cornered pikobis so they wouldn’t shed their tails. He even told you about the time he snuck an injured crown finch back to the Corrie Guard barracks and nursed it back to health during his off-duty time with the help of his brother, Stone.

He’d talk for hours about his precious Grizzer. His animated hands gesticulating wildly as he shared story after story about the trouble his “sweet Grizzy girl”- as he called her - would get into. Including the time the rambunctious pup invaded his brother Fox’s footlocker and chewed a hole in the rear end of his body glove. A hole that was only noticed when Thire made a snarky shebs joke at Fox’s expense when he’d taken his kit off for the evening. He laughed as he recalled Fox putting him on ‘fresher duty as payback.

The more he visited you, the more your conversations flowed, and the more you realized you may be falling for him. And then one evening Hound stayed a little longer than usual. You both had been so consumed in each other’s company that it wasn’t until the beeping of him commlink that you both realized how late it was.

“Stang! It’s 1130! Fox is gonna kill me!”

“Kriff! I’m sorry Hound!”

“S’alright! Any punishment I get will be worth it.” The impish wink he shot you nearly melted you faster than the lava flows of Mustafar. “I’ll escort you home. A pretty lady shouldn’t be walking home in the middle of the night.”

He pulled his helmet on and waited patiently as you completed all of the closing tasks before guiding you out the door with a hand that only just ghosted the small of your back. The late night breeze cooled your cheeks that burned hot by just his presence. You found yourself glancing at him and staring just seconds too long. Long enough for him to catch you. You couldn’t see his expression behind the visor of his helmet but the light bounce to his shoulders had you assuming he was chuckling. The conversation in the shop was easy but now you were the only two walking through the little Coruscant neighborhood. The intimacy of walking so close that your hands brushed each other left you wanting for words. You wanted him to know. To know how you felt. You were dying to paint a masterpiece of your feelings on his very soul. And that thought terrified you.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you almost missed your apartment, stumbling clumsily to a stop. “This is me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, disappointed that you’d wasted your time with him.

“Hmm.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg, tapping the toes of his boots on the ferrocrete.

“I’ll…see you around I guess? Thank you for walking with me. And spending the evening with me. I hope you don’t get in trouble for it.”

He pulled his helmet off, shaking his unkempt curls loose. He pressed a hand to the wall behind you, partially caging you in. His eyes locked on yours, holding your gaze with a cocked eyebrow and a smile that was far too alluring. Your eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips, swallowing thickly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, princess. I’m the baby brother. Pretty sure I could shoot the chancellor himself and my brothers would cover for me.”

You giggled, instinctively pressing a hand to his chest plate.

Glancing down at your hand and then back at your lips, he smirked, leaning in and stopping just short of your mouth, allowing his breath to fan across your lips. “There is one more thing though, before I get back to patrol duty. Been on my mind all evening.”

“What’s that?” Your breath was shaky as you instinctively leaned closer.

He closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and chaste while his hand remained anchored to the wall behind you. As he pulled back he allowed his eyes to travel along every inch of you, unable to conceptualize the euphoria he was wading through. You pulled him back, firmly this time. Your tongue teased his bottom lip, seeking entrance which he happily permitted. You swallowed his moan as his hand drifted to your cheek in soft caressing strokes.

When you finally separated, both awash in the glow of the evening and chests heaving heavy breaths, he spoke again. “I get off duty at 0600. I’ll be back and I’m taking you for caf.”

“Charged to the GAR?”

“If we talk about training Grizzer, I can write it off as a work expense.” He gave a cheeky grin.

“And what if I want to talk about you?” You cooed softly, tracing the outline of his chest plate.

“I can still tell Fox it was a work expense. Like I said, I’m the favorite. I’ll see you in the morning, mesh’la.” He slipped his helmet back on and started to leave.

He paused and spun back on his heel, lifting his helmet once more. He grabbed your hand and pressed one final kiss to it before jogging back toward his patrol route.

You’d never gotten ready for bed so quickly. But the sooner you fell asleep, the sooner you’d be seeing Hound again; an event that couldn’t happen soon enough. He was, after all, the sweetest constant you’d ever known.

[scotianostra]

November 15th 1873 saw the Statue to Greyfriar's Bobby unveiled.

If there is a more famous statue to a dog in the world it would surprise me.

According to the commonly accepted story, Bobby was a Skye Terrier dog belonging to a Jock Gray, a farmer from the Pentland Hills, who regularly dined at an inn in Grassmarket, not far from Greyfriar's Churchyard.

When Jock Gray, died in 1858, the dog refused to leave his master's grave. He turned up regularly for 14 years at the inn at Grassmarket which had been frequented by his master and was fed there by locals who were taken by the dog's devotion. The story may have been embellished by John Traill, the owner of the restaurant.

Other versions suggest that the dog belonged to a local policeman and that while the dog was frequently found in the churchyard, it was also looked after by residents in the houses in nearby Candlemaker's Row, including Colour Sergeant Donald MacNab Scott, serving in the Royal Engineers Survey Company and Royal Artillery priming the 1 o’clock time gun.

Greyfriar's Bobby died on 14 January 1872.

Within the year, the Greyfriars Bobby Fountain was born.

Crafted by the sculptor William Brodie, the monument first took pride of place on George IV Bridge in 1873 a stick’s throw away from Greyfriars Kirkyard. The fountain flourished until 1975 when water was replaced with concrete, due to health reasons which prompted the city’s drinking fountains being shut off.

An inscription there reads

“A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of Greyfriars Bobby. In 1858 this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Greyfriars churchyard and lingered near the spot until his death in 1872.”

Today, it takes the crown as Edinburgh’s smallest listed "structure" Just don't rub it's bloody nose, Edinburgh Council spent £400 on a nose job for the celebrated pooch 7 years ago, bringing in a specialist firm to reblacken his snout. But the nose was back down to the metal within days of the job being finished.

The council now admits it has thrown in the towel and there will be no further attempts to restore the statue in the “near future”. And they have appealed to nose-rubbers who can’t control their habit to “do it gently”.

I don't see why they don't put the statue higher, out of reach.

I have said it before, I think the people who do it are idiots it is not a tradition, never was never has been..

Pics are of the statue through the years

[videogamedogbracket]

Final bracket reveal!

Hello, everyone! After some deliberation (and a very stressful shift at work) I've compiled the final list of participants for this bracket! This post is both a bracket reveal and a confirmation that I have the right characters/images. Be sure to let me know if there are any that need correcting!

Aesop/The Flame in the Flood, Ai/Puyo Puyo Tetris, Alice/The Last of Us 2, Amaterasu/Okami, Annoying Dog/Undertale, Arven's Mabosstiff/Pokémon Scarlet/Violet, Barbas/Skyrim, Barista/Rhythm Heaven, Barkley/Cassette Beasts, Barkspawn/Dragon Age: Origins

Blanca/Shadow Hearts: Covenant, Boney/Mother 3, Boomer/Far Cry 5, Brown/Rule of Rose, Caesar/Wargroove, Cain/Red Dead Redemption 2, Cerberus/Hades, Chibiterasu/Okamiden, Chop/Grand Theft Auto 5, Colonel Ruff/Brawl Stars

DD/Metal Gear Solid V, Digby/Animal Crossing, Dogamy and Dogaressa/Undertale, Dogmeat/Fallout, Dr. Potan/THE DOG Island, Dribble/WarioWare, Duck Hunt Dog/Duck Hunt, Elena/Spiritfarer, Flash/Jetpack Joyride, Flippy Doggenbottom/Toontown Online

Fondue/Rhythm Thief, Gab/Zero Time Dilemma, Garm/Guild Wars 2, Giblets/Elder Scrolls Online, Gretchen/Scarlet Hollow, Hewie/Haunting Ground, Holly/Super Lesbian Animal RPG, Hot Dog/Skylanders, Interceptor/Final Fantasy VI, Isabelle/Animal Crossing

Jackal/Hyper Light Drifter, Jake/Dog's Life, K.K. Slider/Animal Crossing, Koroku/Suikoden III, Koromaru/Persona 3, Lesser Dog/Undertale, Lord Arcanine/Pokémon Legends Arceus, Mame/Yakuza, Mira/Silent Hill, Missile/Ace Attorney

Missile/Ghost Trick, Monty/Spelunky 2, Moonless/Fear & Hunger, Noishe/Tales of Symphonia, PaRappa/PaRappa The Rapper, Pepita/Trauma Center: New Blood, Pickle/Papa's Pancakeria, Pizza/Chicory: A Colorful Tale, Polterpup/Luigi's Mansion, Pom/Pom Gets Wi-Fi

Poochy/Yoshi, Ppodae/Lobotomy Corporation, Princess Pooch/Fossil Fighters: Champions, Pryna/Final Fantasy XV, Randy/Wobbledogs, Rei/Guilty Gear, Ren/DRAMAtical Murder, Repede/Tales of Vesperia, Rex/Fallout: New Vegas, Rex/Fossil Fighters

Riley/Call of Duty, Rukey Greentail/Pyre, Rush/Megaman, Rusty Slugger/Rusty's Real Deal Baseball, Sam/Sam and Max, Sant Angelo di Roma/Final Fantasy VIII, Satty/Breath of the Wild, Sergeant O'Fera/Cuphead, Sif/Dark Souls, Sommie/Fire Emblem: Engage

Spot/Nintendogs, Sumo/Detroit: Become Human, Taroumaru/Genshin Impact, Toby/The Great Ace Attorney, Umbra/Final Fantasy XV, White Beast/Guardian Tales, Wick/Identity V, Willie/Deadly Premonition, Woby/Don't Starve Together, Wolf/Minecraft, Wolf Link/Zelda Twilight Princess, Wulfgar/Etrian Odyssey 2

Again, I can't thank everyone enough for their submissions. Sorry to everyone whose submissions didn't make it in, and rest assured that narrowing the list of participants down was hard.

The bracket itself is going to be posted tomorrow, as well as the first group of matchups. I'll be splitting the first few rounds into multiple groups, just so the sheer volume of contestants isn't so daunting!

And, of course, I wish the best of luck to each of these amazingly good boys and girls. See you all tomorrow!

[pigeonwhumps]

Meeting

Operation Badger masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @augustofwhump

@fleur-a-whump

August of Whump day 14: dehumanisation | darkness | alone

Series inspired by @/i-eat-worlds (not bc I think it's in any way similar but bc I've been reading their Starcross and went "wait aliens and living weapons and what if humans trained living weapons against aliens and-" so this wouldn't have been written without them)

Josiah, a soldier and a handler for Earth Security, meets his new assets.

927 words

CWs: minor whump (aged 14 and up), multiple whumpees, dehumanisation, talk of people as assets, living weapons, talk of punishment, scared whumpees, brief mention of past death

Josiah skims the briefing for a final time before folding it into a tiny square and stuffing it in his inside pocket. It only tells him what he already knows. This is an asset team, usual make-up, previous handler lost in a solo mission. There's the usual photos and descriptions, but as long as none of them are malfunctioning too badly he'll do this on his own.

He raps on the metal door three times in quick succession. It opens shortly to reveal two teenagers standing at parade rest.

Only two are ready immediately. They can do better.

The one on the right is about 5', stocky, with pale skin and dirty blonde hair shorn short. The usual titanium plate replacing part of a mekanikisto's skull is painted with delicate, intricate flowers (not exactly what he'd class as acceptable decoration but he's not in charge of uniform, unfortunately). Pastel shorts are just visible under a very baggy t-shirt, and her eyes are narrowed slightly in a display of what's not quite outright hostility. This must be Ŝpalo. Youngest in the team at 14 years old, British mother, Texan father. Far too much spunk.

The boy beside her is a little taller. Dark and wiry, ginger locs flowing out from under a bright blue bandana, he doesn't take his eyes off Josiah. He's dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, but not from training, Josiah's pretty sure. He's just relaxing. This team has far too much unstructured downtime, and they're clearly not using it wisely. This is probably Viro. 17 years old, Grenadian, tradukinto.

There should be two more assets in here, and Josiah peers around Ŝpalo and Viro into the remarkably tidy dorm room. On one of the bottom bunks a third teenager is curled up, surrounded by bedding that doesn't quite touch them. Josiah can't see them very well, just the ends of a few dark, elaborate braids curling over their trembling shoulder.

The final asset is frozen, standing beside the bunk in overlarge fleecy pyjamas, holding a jug of water and staring at Josiah with large, wide eyes. They have light brown skin, short dark hair, and a port-wine stain on their left cheek. Josiah guesses this is Granda. Aged 19, Filipino-Chinese, the normie.

Which by process of elimination makes the person on the bed the mensoleganto. Luno. Aged 15 with DVD, Bangladeshi heritage, and they really should be better than this.

"At ease," Josiah mutters. Two out of four isn't too bad, he supposes, for a team that's just lost their handler, but really. They're old enough to know better.

Ŝpalo and Viro relax their stances, although Ŝpalo keeps her head high, jutting her chin out. "Who are you, sir?"

"Sergeant Wellsmith, your new handler."

Granda straightens suddenly and salutes, nearly dropping the jug. "Sir."

"At ease, Granda. Set that jug down before you drop it."

Granda blushes as they obey, setting it down beside Luno.

Ŝpalo and Viro exchange a loaded glance.

"What do you want from us?" asks Ŝpalo, fists clenching at her sides. "Are we starting training with you now, sir? Because–"

"Ŝpalo," Josiah says sharply, and she cuts off, chin tilting up, eyes narrowed, still looking angry–

No. No, not angry.

Scared.

Determined, and scared. Why is she–

Viro moves to block Granda and Luno from his sight. Oh. Huh. This is new. Assets aren't supposed to act like this.

"If you're trying to hide someone, you don't move to where they are," Josiah reminds him. It must be a reminder, mustn't it? He should've learnt that by now. It's part of basic training.

"They did nothing wrong," says Ŝpalo. "Punish me, not them, I'm the one who was defiant."

Very defensive. This is interesting. An unusual asset team, to be sure. And it seems his predecessor was very heavy on individual punishments. Unfair ones?

"If I was going to punish anyone, it would be a team punishment. But I've only just arrived, and I'm not." His gaze flickers to Luno again. "What's their condition?"

"What do you care? They're just a weapon, aren't they? So long as they're working why does it matter?"

"I require my assets to be in good working condition," replies Josiah stiffly. "And I want to know if they're not. Ŝpalo, if you don't want to earn your team a punishment then I suggest you rapidly improve your behaviour."

Ŝpalo looks off-balance for the first time, eyes darting around their teammates before she falls completely silent. Viro's eyebrows knit but he doesn't say anything. Good. Better.

Josiah's not impressed with his predecessor. Couldn't even get Ŝpalo's attitude under control. You don't want a mekanikisto with that sort of an attitude. Don't want to end up with another Omega team situation.

"They'll be in working order for their next training session, sir," says Granda quickly. Too quickly. Very eager to please. Does that rate higher than accuracy in this asset? He hopes not.

"Good. Do they need anything to assist with that?"

"No, sir."

"Right. I want to meet you all properly before we start training together. I'll give you ten minutes to sort yourselves out and meet me in the blue briefing room. You can wear civvies."

"Yes, sir," says Granda crisply. Ŝpalo scowls. Luno doesn't even look round and Viro just looks weary.

Good grief. He has a lot to train into these assets. Looking at their results so far they'll be worth it in the end, but they don't even have the right attitude. There's a long way to go with this team.

[freetheshit-outofyou]

Sharing an old post I made.

Today on the radio they were debating FAIR and EQUAL. They seemed to be lost in their assumption of their own topic. They want things in life to be fair and equal for everyone, that is not a possibility. That’s like wanting to swim and stay dry at the same time.

In 1989 the Army taught me all about fair and equal in one event. On a force march the platoon was all souped up and was given a leisure break to contemplate failure and our need to correct ourselves. We received purpose, direction and motivation to make those corrections from our ever-loving Drill Sergeants who were always attentive to our need and to make needed corrections in the most hasty and effective means possible. On that day that came in the form of rifle drills.

When that command came to assume the start position I had a deep internal smile, see I was an M60 gunner and they were not going to make us do rifle drills with M60’s. So yeah, I had a big grin going on inside. The M16A1’s we had were 7 pounds 8 ounces, 10 pounds 8 ounces if they had an M203 on them but the M60 was just shy of 24 pounds. So it was with great glee that I would be sitting this one out.

Senior Drill Sergeants Stewart even addressed us M60 gunners in front of the whole formation, I can still remember his exact words, and this is where I learned about fair and equal. “M60 gunners, I hate it for you, get them up.” In his calm even toned voice. So every one of us M60 gunners assumed the rifle down position and on the count of one hoisted those machineguns over our heads. The tide had turned, because now every M16 and M203 operator had huge shit eating grin visible on their faces.

The platoon had screwed the pooch running around the Alabama forest like a monkey trying to hump a greased football.

Was it fair that we all shared in that loving correcting even if we were all not responsible for the failure?

Was it equal that gunners with weapons almost 3 times the weight of the M16 had to bask in the heart felt course correction administered by the Drill Sergeant?

In this moment I learned that fair rarely translates to equal and equal will rarely be fair. I think people confuse the two and want them to be the same when they just are not.

[summer-solo-day]

77/?? Childhood TV Shows You Should Watch

Title: Hong Kong Phooey

Episodes: 16

Run Time: 30 Mins

Original Air Date: September 7 - December 21, 1974

Synopsis:

The main character, Hong Kong Phooey, is the clownishly clumsy secret identity of Penrod "Penry" Pooch, working at a police station as a "mild-mannered" janitor under the glare of Sergeant Flint, nicknamed "Sarge".

Penry disguises himself as Hong Kong Phooey by jumping into a filing cabinet – in so doing he always gets stuck, and is freed by his striped pet cat named Spot – and once disguised, gets equipped with the "Phooeymobile" vehicle.

In fighting crime, he relies on his copy of The Hong Kong Book of Kung Fu, a correspondence course martial arts instruction handbook. However, his successes are only either thanks to Spot, who provides a solution to the challenges, or the direct result of a comically unintended side effect of his efforts.

My Rating: 10/10

My Reasoning: I adore and love this show so much! I think part of it comes from the fact that my dad enjoyed this show a lot too. I think Phooey is such a funny and loveable character. He is clumsy and kind of incompetent but he means well and is genuinely a good character. I also like the cat too. I think the cat is a good friend and it's funny watching him have to help Phooey a lot.

I admit I don't really care for the Sarge or Rosemary. I feel like they don't really do much for the show. However, I get their roles in the shows so I know why they're there.

Anyway, if you like the Hanna Barbera humor, and a main character that's funny and clumsy but means well, then you will certainly enjoy this show.

[atozphantomsquadron]

Kitty - II

   The boat had made its way into the mouth of the Indus River, only mild turbulence rocking it from time to time.  Much of the team had taken the opportunity to sleep, as the waterway for the most part seemed quiet.

   Lazarus slid her way through the other SEALS to the back of the boat, toward Lonstein.  “Do you want to sack out for a while?  I’ll take over.”

   Lonstein shook his head.  “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m doing fine.”

   Lazarus nodded, sitting down on the other side of the motor from the sergeant.  He looked over at her as she started re-checking her ammunition, his hand remaining on the “rudder” of the outboard.

   “If you don’t mind my asking, ma’am …”

   The woman raised an eyebrow.  “What is it?”

   “Well … what exactly was it that made you become a SEAL?”

   She chuckled softly, leaning back against the rubber inflated hull of the raft.  “You’re kidding, right?  I thought you weren’t one of those stupid sexist assmonkeys.”

   Lonstein shrugged.  “I’m not.  I’m just unsure of myself, that’s all.  I don’t know what made me do this anymore.  I mean, I know, I was recommended by a commander, but … well, you know, I don’t know why.”

   Now she smiled.  “Gotta love those existentialist crises, huh?  Okay, I’ll tell you.”  She turned so that she faced the sergeant, kneeling in the bottom of the boat.  “Did you play sports in school?”

   Lonstein nodded.  “Yeah, basketball and track.”

   Lazarus smirked.  “Want to know what I played in school?  Chess.  I may as well have been on a competitive nose picking team, I felt that useless.”

   She settled back down into the boat.  “Anyway, I was the best chess player in my high school.  I got into shape in college, joined the Navy, the brass liked my strategic mind … here I am.”

   “So … you became a SEAL to make up for not being physical in school?”

   Lazarus shrugged.  “Maybe.  Maybe to prove to myself that I could do it.  Maybe because this was my best shot at being a commander.  I don’t really know anymore, I just know that once I got into it I kinda liked it.”

   Lonstein’s face crossed in confusion.  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

   “The point is, sergeant, don’t worry about why.  Try to just go along with the ride.  After a while, you might find it rewarding.”

   The sergeant finally nodded, returning his face toward the forward position.  The sky alerted him, though.  “I think we might be in trouble.”

   Lazarus looked up, moving forward to the bow.  “Don’t worry, we’ll get through it.  Open us up a little more, I think we don’t have anyone watching.”

   Lonstein nodded, increasing the throttle on the motor.  The boat quickly picked up speed, slapping against the river.  Waves that had been meek and light only moments before became more and more angry, water splashing into the raft.

   The first one to be awakened by the spray was Trueman, who quickly roused the rest of the team.  Together, they clutched to grab handles stitched all around the raft’s hull.  Lazarus clutched to her own grab handle, remaining at the bow, calling back to Lonstein.

   “Insertion point should be ahead, another six minutes at this speed!”

   Rain suddenly started pouring from the sky.  Lonstein looked up at the bow, worried for his commander.  “L.T., should we pull off earlier?”

   Lazarus vigorously shook her head.  “We have a mission, guys, any further distance away and we’ll really screw the pooch.  It’s just a little rain, anyway!”

   Lazarus’ “a little rain” quickly turned into a torrent.  The other soldiers scrambled within the raft to cover vital weapons and ammunition.  Along with the pouring rain, the wind picked up immensely, threatening to eject the raft’s contents.

   “Ma’am, please!”

   Lazarus looked back at the sergeant.  “Don’t chicken out on me now, Lonstein, I need …”

   A heavy wave slapped right against the prow, dead center.  The resultant lift served to bounce Lazarus out of the raft and into the now-rampaging river.  Lonstein instantly cut the throttle on the engine just to remain stationary in the river.

   “Keep an eye out for her!  Trueman, Payette, in the water, go, go, go!”

   Trueman and Payette, the team’s best swimmers, leaped out of the raft and splashed down, stroking quickly back toward where Lazarus had fallen out.  The remaining four soldiers tried to watch for their teammates, their eyes fighting against the sheets of water that doused them.

   Lonstein called to his teammates.  “Anything?”

   The closest SEAL to the sergeant, L.C. Jerry Thayer, pointed out toward the water.  “I see Trueman and Payette, they’re coming back.”

   Lonstein upped the boat throttle again, turning to reduce the distance between the raft and the swimmers.  The other three SEALs reached into the water, quickly pulling Trueman and Payette back aboard.

   Of the two, Payette looked the most troubled, his breaths coming in ragged, tired gasps.  “We just … couldn’t catch up … current’s too strong …”

   Lonstein turned the raft back upriver.  Thayer turned quickly to face him.  “What are you doing, sarge?”

   The sergeant sighed.  “Not much we can do, now.  We’ll find a place along shore, set up camp, and wait for this shit to blow over.  Afterward, we’ll start searching for the L.T.”

   Their expressions downcast, the rest of the team agreed to the plan, as Lonstein steered the raft toward the shoreline, looking for a good place to land.

   She felt like she was drowning.  She felt like she was flying.

   Lazarus snapped back to reality, panting.  She was no longer in the water: apparently she had washed up on shore while she was unconscious and the waters had receded, because the river was no longer in sight.  Shaking her head, she looked around her.  Dense forest, with nothing to mark any heading, surrounded the woman.  Night seemed to be falling, as evidenced by the denseness of the air.  Quickly, she patted herself down, checking her physical state and her equipment.

   She still had her pistol and a few grenades.  She pressed the silent mike to her throat.  “Lonstein, do you copy?”

   Nothing.

   “Lonstein, Payette, Trueman, Thayer?”

   Still nothing.

   “Come on guys, quit fucking around.”

   Silence greeted her request.  She pulled the broadcast box of her radio out.  It broke into five sharp plastic pieces in her hand.

   “Oh, this is perfect.  What else can go wrong?”

   She reached into another pocket, for her portable GPS tracker.  Also broken.  She angrily flung the two broken pieces of equipment away from her.  Taking a deep breath, she started looking up toward the sky, making calculations.

   “Okay, let’s see … just about sunset … light’s brightest … we were headed … all right, let’s see if we can catch up.”

   The woman started running through the trees.  The unusual Asian foliage formed a thick canopy of brush over her head, darkening the path ahead.  She reached up for the rescue light on her ammunition harness.

   “Thank God for small miracles,” she muttered as the light blinked right on.  She took four steps …

   … and yelped.  The ground gave way beneath her, dropping her.  She rolled down a dirty wall, coming to rest at the bottom of a massive pit.  Cursing loud and extravagantly, she brushed herself off and made another cursory check of her body.

   The light had broken now.  She growled with her frustration, scrambling toward the opposite wall of the pit, trying to climb out.  Only soft dirt met her hands, crumbling as she attempted to climb out, not allowing her to place any weight forward.  Frustrated, she kicked the wall.

   “Damn this country and damn all of this!”

   She slumped down to the floor of the pit, cross-legged, her chin in her hand.  Reaching into her pocket, she found a box of matches: her emergency lights.  She struck one against her boot, using the dim light to attempt to gain her bearings.

   She had apparently fallen into a tiger pit, but thankfully there were no spikes at the bottom to impale her.  The dirt, softened up by the flash-monsoon from earlier in the day, was saturated with water.  Looking down at herself, she could see the muddy trails of her fall and attempts to climb out.  The match reached the end and burned her fingers slightly.  She pulled out another one.  When she lit it, it appeared she was not alone in the pit: a face appeared against one wall.

   Lazarus shrieked, but then stood up to approach the figure.  As she came closer, the light revealed the statue of a woman, carved out of what looked like bedrock.

   “Funny place for a shrine.”

   She scanned the statue’s features.  The woman had three eyes, with one in the center of her forehead, at a vertical position to the other two.  She had ten arms, in typical Hindu fashion.  Looking at each hand, Lazarus noticed that each held a weapon: a trident, a bow, a sword, a mace, a chakram, among others.

   Seeing this, Lazarus chuckled.  “My kind of gal, whaddya know?”  The match burned her fingers once again.  Convincing herself not to waste the whole box, she reached for one last match, striking it against a buckle of her ammo harness.

   The light bathed the statue again.  Only this time, stone was replaced with flesh.  The eyes blinked.

   Lazarus dropped the match and scrambled backward, away from the woman who had been a statue just a moment before.  She pulled out her pistol and leveled it toward the newcomer.

   “Okay, freeze!  Who the fuck are you, and how did you get in here without me knowing?”

   The other woman’s eyes, all three of them, started glowing.  She stepped forward, the glow creating enough light to illuminate the entire pit.  All ten of the other woman’s arms moved now, holstering and sheathing every weapon she had been holding.  As Lazarus watched, ten arms combined into eight, then six, then four.  She continued to approach, making Lazarus clutch her gun tighter, bringing her other hand up to steady her shaking.

   “I said who are you?”

   The newcomer looked over Lazarus then smiled.  “My kind of woman.  You will be perfect.”  She approached the SEAL, taking a hold of the gun.  “Am I right in assuming this is a weapon?”

   Now Lazarus was confused.  Unwillingly, she let go of the gun.  “Yeah.  Be careful with that.”

   Looking curious, the stranger wrapped her upper right hand around the gun’s hilt, lacing her index finger into the finger guard and pointing it away from Lazarus.  She pulled the trigger.  The loud report of the gun’s firing seemed to delight the stranger, as she passed the other right hand over one of her hips.

   “Excellent.  Almost like the thunderbolt, loud and lethal.”  She turned toward Lazarus.  “Thank you.”

   “You know, you can’t really take that, it’s U.S. Government property.  I can’t tell you how many guns I’ve wanted to keep for myself that I couldn’t.”

   The hand over the stranger’s hip moved away, revealing a primitive holster.  She slid the gun into it then looked up at Lazarus.  “A stranger, in a strange land.  You do not know me, do you child?”

   “Who are you callin’ ‘child,’ lady?”

   The stranger chuckled.  “Of course not.  What is your name, brave one?”

   Lazarus crossed her arms.  “Lazarus, Katrina, Lieutenant, United States Navy, service number 4-9-2-5-8 …”

   The stranger reached out and placed a hand over Lazarus’ mouth.  “My name is Durga, brave one, and you have been brought here.”

   Lazarus moved Durga’s hand aside.  “’Brought here?’  I think you’re mistaken, I fell in here.”

   “You were separated from your men.”

   Now Lazarus raised an eyebrow.  “Yeah, I was.  By a storm …”

   “… that rose up without any kind of warning?”

   Lazarus nodded.  “Okay, what’s up?”

   Durga smiled.  “There is a great evil afoot, not far from here.  When you leave here, you will gather your men and confront it.”

   “Now wait one minute, lady, my mission is supposed to be strictly reconnaissance!”

   Durga approached even closer, taking Lazarus’s arms in all four hands.  “In your current state, Lazarus, Katrina, you cannot stand against the evil.  You and your team would fall completely.  I will grant you the strength and the power you will need.”

   Lazarus’ eyes lit up.  “Really, now?  Is this some kind of Faustian deal we’re making?  Do you want my soul in return?”

   The other woman laughed.  “Don’t be silly.  I only ask that as long as you hold the power I grant, you are my servant here on the Earth plane.”

   Lazarus’ eyes focused on those of Durga.  They still shone with the otherworldly light from before, but at this range it was not quite as intense.  The features around those eyes seemed very soft.

   “You promise I won’t be your servant forever, right?  And you’ll get me out of this pit, right?”

   Durga smiled.  “You have my word, brave one.”

   Lazarus sighed.  “All right, I’ll do it.”

   The pit seemed to swim around Lazarus, as her equilibrium went into flux.  Her knees felt too weak to support her own weight: only Durga’s arms around her kept her upright.  Her eyes flickered, the last sight before them Durga’s face, the last sensation Durga’s lips on her own.

   “What do you think happened, sarge?”

   Payette’s whispered question roused the rest of the team from their slumber.  Lonstein stood next to him, his weapon at the ready.

   “I don’t know.  Looks like some kind of cat, not sure why it’s here.”

   Thayer was the next man up with the group.  “Why don’t we wake it up?”

   “Are you crazy?  I don’t feel like getting mauled.”

   Trueman crouched down next to the mysterious figure.  “Look at this, guys …”

   He pointed a finger at a black cloth which seemed to wrap around the figure.  In particular, an embroidered strip.

   Lonstein crouched next to Trueman.  “It looks like BDU’s, but they’re really tattered.”  The sergeant looked closer at the point where Trueman was looking.

   A name.  LAZARUS.

   The figure in the black cloth made a quiet, moaning sound, and moved.  Quickly, all four SEALs backed up, observing as the creature awakened.  It seemed to have a human form, but as it stretched the men counted five limbs, coated in orange fur with black stripes.  The extra limb appeared to be an extraordinarily long tail.  At the creature’s head, a very human looking patch of hair sprouted at about shoulder-length, also orange with black streaks.

   The creature rolled slightly, returning to an upright position on two legs.  It towered over the SEALs by at least a foot on each man.  The creature’s eyes opened, their pupils almond-shaped slivers.  At its full height, the SEALs could see that the creature was proportioned like a human female, and was wearing the tattered BDU’s in their proper layout, complete with an ammunition harness.  Only the boots were missing, replaced by a giant pair of cat’s paws.

   Finally, the creature’s cat-like mouth opened up, and it made a sound.  “Lonstein?  Guys?”

   Lonstein’s eyes opened wide.  “L.T.?  Is that you?”

   “Of course it’s me.  Who else?  Hey, did you guys shrink?”

   The four men slowly shook their heads, their jaws slack.  Lazarus walked toward them, a little shakily it seemed.

   “Where are we?”

   Lonstein stammered momentarily.  “We’re, uh, about a click from the point you fell out of the raft.  The storm got too rough for us, so we camped here.”

   Lazarus seemed to growl.  “So we’re a day behind schedule, just great.  All right, let me freshen up a bit and we’ll get back underway.”

   She walked over toward the river.  The four men continued to stare at their metamorphosed commander, watching her tail sway back and forth like a pendulum behind her, sticking out of a torn hole in the uniform pants.  They cringed as they watched her approach the riverbank and kneel down.

   Birds fluttered out of the trees, frightened by the cat woman’s ear-shattering scream.

[omniversalobservations]

Family Guy (December 2021)

The fan favorite adult animated series is currently making its way through the milestone 20th season, and with its newest episode ended its run for the year with its annual holiday effort. This new episode, "Christmas Crime" saw Brian Griffin openly hating everything about Christmas until he drunkenly commits a crime that he now needs to cover up. With all of this crime floating around, and a dog at the center of it all, the episode also saw fit to bring back another famous crime pooch.  

During a cutaway joke early on in the episode, Brian is trying to cover up his part of a crime by saying that he's actually a good person. As a vouch for his character, Brian then reveals he "worked" as McGruff the Crime Dog's official sidekick. Then after a genuine PSA from the 1980s McGruff the Crime Dog campaign started to run, Brian gets superimposed in as the sidekick, "Sergeant Bark" who barks at crime.

Source: Comic Book Dot Com

(images via YouTube)

[deceptichubs]

Smokescreen WG HC prompt?

Smoke/screen has a weakness for rich, savory food--fattening delicacies were hard to come by in the latter days of the war, and older recruits reminisced lovingly about zinc cubes and sweet-crude while rubbing much-diminished bellies. Smoke/screen was known in boot camp for his appetite...and for finding sly, outside-the-box ways to get his hands on extra rations.

Under his shiny armor, his stomach pooched out and his thighs swelled. He ran and drove, gamely, but his fans worked overtime to cool his body, with a loud panting clatter...and his pudge jiggled when he ran.

The Elite Guard drill instructors had a few unflattering names for him. Softness was not appreciated in wartime. His sergeant regularly slapped his growing belly, watching its wobble with half-disbelief, half-dismay.

Alp/ha Tri/on spotted Smoke/screen’s appetite a mile away and smiled to himself. Some enjoyment was still left in the world. He slipped Smoke/screen a few stored boxes of goodies: zinc cubes; copper nuggets; calcite crystals swimming in oily sauces. Smoke/screen reminded him a bit of his former protege, Or/ion, who had an appetite of his own...

During Smoke/screen’s initial capture, his interrogators ridiculed him: “pretty big gut for a highly-trained cadet...looks like the Bots are getting desperate, huh?”

After his arrival on Earth, Smoke/screen takes the brunt of the semi-affectionate fat jokes Fow/ler and Ar/cee formerly reserved for Bulk/head. He takes it with relatively good humor. Reminds him a bit of boot camp.

(Jack finds him alone and contemplative. Ar/cee can be rough, Jack explains--but if it’s too much, he’ll tell her to put a cork in it. Smoke/screen shrugs it off. He’ll just have to work a bit harder to prove he’s not figuratively soft.)

During Smo/key’s second capture, KO takes great delight in poking and prodding Smoke/screen’s chub. Only room for one sleek little racer on this ship. Maybe he’ll keep Smoke/screen around, pumping him full of the various compounds he’s testing out, until his belly billows out and his aft swells enough to push him off the table. Phase shifter in hand, he’s elbow-deep in Smoke/screen’s bloated gut already, digging around in search of the key. Can Smoke/screen even drive? Sure, he might be lustrous, but he’s not exactly aerodynamic, and so on, and so forth.

When Smoke/screen hurls himself off the ship, KO is dumbstruck. Guess he is aerodynamic after all.

[canisfuria]

{ ♙ } emotions?! || Accepting ;; @loyalestdoginthemilitary​​ { ♙ }

              [ Kain had been told that there were puppies, now. Riza had mentioned Hayate’s recently-discovered girlfriend a few weeks earlier, just in time to discover the pooch’s pregnancy. So of course there would be puppies. And Kain has seen a puppy, before. Why, Black Hayate couldn’t have been more than a month or two old when the sergeant had found him so long ago ! 

               Kain knows puppies, so he can’t pinpoint why he’s so surprised by how small the little animal is. Seated patiently on the ground from where he’d been scratching Hayate’s ears, he waits as the dog pads off, and returns, baby in tow. Gosh, was Hayate really that small, too?! What a tiny thing ! With all the care in the world, Kain cradles the creature in two hands heart catching tight in his throat. ]

     ❝ This one’s yours? ❞

               [ Kain is well aware that there are more in the litter. But this is the one that Hayate brought him; and what a sweet little guy it is ! Black and white, like Hayate, himself, practically a mirror image. ]

    ❝ Wow-ie, Hayate, what a handsome puppy ! Looks just like papa ! ❞

               [ Kain will never find the words to describe the sheer delight that dog brings him. What a character, too, looking proud enough to hold a cigar in his snout. His heart swells at the sight. ]

[elatedmarvel]

Exclusive: Life After the Shield

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summery: An inside exclusive with one Steven Rogers, years in the future.

Word Count: 1385

AN: Hello! Idk where this came from, but it was super fun to write. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much for reading. Feedback is always welcome. ~J

Warnings: none

The house is unremarkable, just another two story with a porch wrapped around it. The yard has bikes and mini cars thrown about and other outdoor toys strewn up the stairs to the front door. As this reporter knocks on the door, the sounds of paws clicking becomes more distinct, and a sharp bark is heard behind the heavy wood door. Someone comes to shush the pooch, and when the door opens there stands Captain Steve Rogers in all his glory.

He’s half kneeling, trying to get a good grip on the squirming dog but greets me anyways. “Sorry about him, he’s just excited, I promise he won’t bite.” he laughs as he welcomes me into his home.

It really is a home. 

Shoes, both little and big, line the entryway. Family portraits hang in the adjoining hallway, even shots of current and retired Avengers. A withered sepia colored one of a smaller Steve with a man who has Steve’s jawline, and a woman who has Steve’s eyes complete the set. “My parents, it just wouldn’t be right to have a picture wall without them” he says when he catches me taking a closer look. 

We walk further into the house and evidence of his children are everywhere. Toys that have yet to be put away in the hallways, their drawings hung on the fridge with pride, and a highchair at the dining room table. We can hear them yelling and laughing in the backyard as we settle into his office for the interview-- Steve having to remove the teddy bear and doll that was on his seat.

At first it’s obvious to just see him as Captain America . But here in the converted farmhouse, it’s easier to see him as a civilian. He’s not quite as angled and sharp as in his avenging days, something he attributes to his family's love of baking together. “My kids and I love to try new recipes,” he tells me later, “honestly I’m just glad I have the serum to keep me in shape.” 

His workout routine still impressive though. He tells me he tries to get up and run, and he still lifts weights on a regular basis. Going to the compound to spar with childhood best friend, Sergeant James Barnes on an almost daily basis-- who still kicks his ass like when they were younger.

“It’s getting easier with every kid though” he explains “with the first one I was so cocky that I bought a jogging stroller. Thought I’d be able to take Sarah with me on my runs and let my wife have some down time. I was so wrong, we were basically zombies that first few months. I never even put her in the damn thing.” 

Captain Rogers retired from active duty after his firstborn. Still in the Avengers reserve, he trains recruits and strategizes with the new team. “It was time to take a step back.” he reflects. “I’ve been fighting the good fight since the 1920s, I needed to live my own life now, be a present father and husband.” When asked about why he still affiliates with the Avengers he jokes that he couldn’t hand over responsibility completely, “I still have trouble with that, and I needed the money.” 

It’s abundantly clear how fond of his children the retired Avenger is. “They are the best things in my life. After I was frozen and came out in this century, I didn’t think I could have that family I always envisioned. I put my head down and did what I knew.” 

What changed all this? His wife. 

“She’s just everything to me. It’s like we met and everything just clicked into place.” he earnestly replies, “I’m not sure I would be where I am if it wasn’t her.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Rogers met in the Avengers Compound where she worked as a doctor. “She’s a spitfire, she never let me leave without examining me after a mission. She figured out I would hide some of my injuries, and she gave me crap for it.” he recounts. “She understood me the best. And she’s just this amazing person, you know she was in the army after med school and knew what it was like to be in combat. We could just talk for hours about anything, and that’s so special to me. The first time I told her I loved her was after she kicked my ass in a sparring session. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. Sorry, language!” he laughs. “Having kids really censored my foul language.” 

Turns out, their youngest Sammy, is just starting a phase where she repeats everything, “She gets me in trouble a lot with the wife. Set up a swear jar and everything, and if Sammy says the word then it’s $20 bucks.”

Their children’s cheerful smiles stare back at me from a picture on the desk. Three little cherubs; Sarah, James, and Samantha. “Sarah is definitely in charge” he smirks “she decides what they play and watch. But James is getting to the age where he’s starting to fight back some. He’s learning how much he can push back and get away with. It’s honestly so entertaining. Obviously Sammy is too young to know what’s really going on, but I have a feeling her and Sarah are going to gang up on James when they’re a little older.” 

Rogers seemed a little coy when asked about the possibility of adding a fourth child to the mix. “You know, it would be great to even the playing field, give James his own buddy. But Sammy’s still pretty young so we’ll see. We’ve talked about it for sure but no plans right now.” 

While there are no plans to add to the Rogers household human wise, they have added many fur babies to their fold since moving upstate. “I never thought I would leave the city, but Tony saw this listing and showed us. We fell in love instantly. It’s got plenty of room and like an acre of land or something crazy like that. It’s a good thing too because my wife keeps finding these animals to take in. You met Dodger earlier, he’s the newest addition.” 

Apparently, Dr. Rogers has a knack for finding animals that need a home. “I swear they seek her out and know she’s too soft to turn them away. We’ve got 4 cats, a dog, some chicks that are turning into chickens fast, and even some goats.” Steve swears the goats are just here until Bucky is able to find a suitable home for them, but it’s easy to tell he didn’t even believe himself. “I’ve just got to accept that we have a zoo. I’m sure in a few years we’ll add horses or something. Sarah’s been begging for one, and Uncle Tony doesn’t quite know how to tone down the gifting.” He chuckles.

As we sit and talk about future plans, Dr. Rogers comes knocking with a plate of cookies and a baby on her hip. She has to take the older two to music class and settles baby Sammy on her father’s lap. Instantly his eyes light up as he coos and talks to his youngest, Sammy herself giving us the biggest, gummy smile possible. She takes interest on a cookie and stuffs one in her mouth before anyone can stop her. “I guess there’s no harm in you just chewing on that, it’ll be our little secret baby” Rogers says to his daughter, pushing back some of her unruly hair and pressing kisses to her forehead. The rest of the interview goes by quickly, getting last moment clarifications and questions in-- Sammy chiming in more than once with her opinion. When Captain Rogers leads me to the doorway and bids me a farewell, Dodger tries to acquaint himself again.

With baby on hand and dog circling his feet, it’s easy to see just Steve Rogers. A caring husband, doting father, and overall happy man. One who has found purpose and life beyond the shield. A man right where he belongs.  

Edit: Since this interview six months ago, the Rogers’ have announced they have welcomed another little boy, Nathan. Here’s hoping they actually get to use that jogging stroller this time around. Congratulations to the happy family!

Tag:

@captainchrisfics

[jerimystoltzcreations]

June 28, 2020 #junetoon2020 day 28 (One) Number 1 superguy. Hong Kong Phooey is an American animated television series produced by Hanna-Barbera Productions and originally broadcast on ABC. The original episodes aired from September 7 to December 21, 1974, and then in repeats until 1976. The show was brought back in reruns in 1978 and 1981. The main character, Hong Kong Phooey, is the clownishly clumsy secret identity of Penrod "Penry" Pooch, working at a police station as a "mild-mannered" janitor under the glare of Sergeant Flint, nicknamed "Sarge." #junetoon #HongKongPhooey #HannaBarbera #art #artwork #artist #artistofinstagram #artistforhire #concept #custom #cartoon #draw #drawing #drawingaday #DrawEveryday #design #illustration #pencil #sketch #Sketchcard #colordrawing #ink #copic #animated https://www.instagram.com/p/CCARQLghxyx/?igshid=hls4w3gnvt7a

[scotianostra]

November 15th 1873 saw the Statue to Greyfriar's Bobby unveiled.

If there is a more famous statue to a dog in the world it would surprise me. According to the commonly accepted story, Bobby was a Skye Terrier dog belonging to a Jock Gray, a farmer from the Pentland Hills, who regularly dined at an inn in Grassmarket, not far from Greyfriar's Churchyard.

When Jock Gray, died in 1858, the dog refused to leave his master's grave. He turned up regularly for 14 years at the inn at Grassmarket which had been frequented by his master and was fed there by locals who were taken by the dog's devotion. The story may have been embellished by John Traill, the owner of the restaurant.

Other versions suggest that the dog belonged to a local policeman and that while the dog was frequently found in the churchyard, it was also looked after by residents in the houses in nearby Candlemaker's Row, including Colour Sergeant Donald MacNab Scott, serving in the Royal Engineers Survey Company and Royal Artillery priming the 1 o’clock time gun.

Greyfriar's Bobby died on 14 January 1872.

Within the year, the Greyfriars Bobby Fountain was born. 

Crafted by the sculptor William Brodie, the monument first took pride of place on George IV Bridge in 1873 a stick’s throw away from Greyfriars Kirkyard. The fountain flourished until 1975 when water was replaced with concrete, due to health reasons which prompted the city’s drinking fountains being shut off. An inscription there reads 

“A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of Greyfriars Bobby. In 1858 this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Greyfriars churchyard and lingered near the spot until his death in 1872.”

Today, it takes the crown as Edinburgh’s smallest listed "structure" Just don't rub it's bloody nose, Edinburgh Council spent £400 on a nose job for the celebrated pooch 7 years ago, bringing in a specialist firm to reblacken his snout. But the nose was back down to the metal within days of the job being finished.

The council now admits it has thrown in the towel and there will be no further attempts to restore the statue in the “near future”. And they have appealed to nose-rubbers who can’t control their habit to “do it gently”. 

I don't see why they don't put the statue higher, out of reach.

I think the people who do it are idiots it is not a Tradition, never was never has been. At least the mask which now adorns the statue will stop them. Pics are of the statue through the years, apart from the family portrait with the Traill family.

[marymccartneyphotos]

The McCartney Family Album

April 6, 2008 -- The Guardian

To mark the 10th anniversary of Linda McCartney's death, Paul and daughter Mary have selected the best of her photographs for a revealing exhibition. Here, Mary tells Sean O'Hagan why the pictures are so special to her.

When I ask Mary McCartney to describe her mother's photographic style, she thinks for a long moment and says: 'She approached photography the way she approached everything else - with quiet confidence.' You can see that in the photographs spread out before us on the table of the west London members' club where McCartney has met me to talk about a forthcoming exhibition of her mother's work. The show, which opens at the James Hyman Gallery on 25 April, is the first major retrospective of Linda McCartney's photography, and has been timed to coincide with the 10th anniversary of her death from breast cancer. The photographs have been selected by Paul and Mary McCartney, with input from Hyman, from 4,000-odd contact sheets.

'It's an incredible archive,' says Mary, herself a respected fashion and portrait photographer. 'Mum never stopped taking photographs, though it may have seemed that way to the public. It's about 30 years' worth of work. The only gap is around the time when Stella and I were born when, as she said, she was up to her neck in nappies. Otherwise she always seemed to have a camera in her hand.'

To many people Linda McCartney was known, first and foremost, as the wife of a Beatle, and then as a vegetarian-cum-animal rights campaigner. Yet it is her career as a photographer, which waned as she embraced motherhood, music and activism, that is her lasting legacy.

'She was an instinctive photographer and always unobtrusive,' continues Mary. 'She wasn't that interested in straight portraiture or art photography - the images she caught were nearly always intimate, relaxed and oddly revealing.'

You can see that intimacy in her shot of John Lennon and Paul McCartney working on lyrics in the corner of a recording studio. Both are immersed in the task, but obviously having a good time. McCartney, his biro poised over a sheet of paper, may just have amended the lyrics. Lennon obviously approves. They seem almost conspiratorial and to have the intimacy of a long-term couple. Which, in a way, they were.

With the Beatles, Linda's access was assured. Before she met Paul, though, she had worked with many of the icons of the Sixties pop scene, including Jimi Hendrix, whom she famously captured mid-yawn. He didn't seem to mind.

'It was a different time,' says Mary, 'before PRs and image makers took over. Back then, she told me, the manager would often be a friend of the band. If you were cool and they liked you, you could friend hang out.'

Mary's younger sister Stella, now a celebrated fashion designer, is in one of the most intriguing family snapshots. It was taken at Paul McCartney's cottage in Scotland, near the Mull of Kintyre, which he famously hymned on one of Wings's more mawkish songs. Paul balances on a fence in dressing gown and slippers. He is watching with some concern his young son James, who has just leapt off the bonnet of the family Land Rover. Immune to the drama, Stella is kneeling on the grass in the foreground, immersed in some private reverie.

'That's Poppy, our family dog,' says Mary, pointing at a pooch in the background. There is also a sack of logs, or maybe potatoes, in the foreground near Stella. It is a detailed photograph but intricately composed: the dark, looming cottage on the right of the image, the fence that arcs away to the horizon, the tall figure of Paul echoed by what appears to be a ring of standing stones in the background on the left.

It is also a perfectly rendered moment, a deceptively casual portrait of a family caught up in one of the small dramas of the everyday. The age is given added resonance by the fact that it is a glimpse into the private life of the McCartney family at a time in the early Seventies when Paul had fled the media-fuelled madness that attended the Beatles, and by the fact that Linda is the invisible, guiding presence.

'I love that photograph,' says Mary. 'It's so weird - the dog, my brother jumping into the air, and Stella in a world of her own. I could look at it for ages. It's not set up at all; it's all about watching and timing. I bet she didn't even change the lens to take it, just used the same old 50mm lens she always did. That's what I mean about instinctive. There's a faith that it will be alright and it is. She just gets it.'

She stares at it some more, and the photographer in her gives way to the loving daughter. 'We used to walk that fence all the time to see how far we could go before we fell off. So it has all those memories, too. Our lives are mapped out in our mum's photographs. I found out her and Dad's story just by looking through the contact sheets: her rock'n'roll stuff, then her photographs of the Beatles, then her meeting Dad. It's like her diary, really, a record of her life.'

Linda Louise Eastman began her career as a photographer almost by accident. While working as a receptionist for Town & Country magazine in Manhattan in the mid-Sixties, she picked up an invite for a press party on a boat on the Hudson. It was for the Rolling Stones, newly arrived in America. She charmed the bad boys of rock as she later charmed Hendrix and Jim Morrison.

Soon afterwards, she forsook the genteel concerns of Town & Country for the more earthy delights of the Fillmore East, a celebrated but grungy New York rock venue, where she became the house photographer, capturing live images of Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, the Doors and the Who. Before Annie Leibovitz became Rolling Stone magazine's favourite snapper, Linda was the first woman photographer to have her work on the cover - a portrait of Eric Clapton.

'Mum liked doing music work when it was all free and easy,' Mary says, 'but when the lawyers and the accountants took over, she lost interest. She was independent always. She did it on her own terms or not at all. Plus, she had children. Children take over your life.'

Contrary to received wisdom, Linda Eastman was not an heir to the Eastman Kodak empire, but she did come from wealthy American stock. Her father Lee was a music-business attorney, while her mother, Louise Sara Lindner, inherited the Lindner department-store fortune. She died in an aeroplane crash in 1962, when Linda was just 20, precipitating in her daughter a lifelong aversion to flying.

'I think Mum and Dad were close because they both lost their mothers when they were young,' says Mary. 'It was one of the things that bonded them. You could glimpse it when certain songs came on the radio, and they'd both be suddenly sad at the same time. I also think it's what made them so family-oriented.'

Family life, one suspects, is also what grounded Paul McCartney after the craziness of the Beatles years - though blissful domesticity also seemed to soften his musical brain. For a long time Linda stopped being a professional photographer to become a musician of sorts with Wings, and had to contend with the wrath of Beatles fans who blamed her and Yoko Ono - but mostly Yoko - for the fall in quality in both Paul and John's solo work. She later admitted that she sometimes sang out of tune on early Wings songs.

Paul met Linda in the famed Bag O'Nails club in London in May 1967, where the new rock aristocracy hung out, and where she was taking shots of Georgie Fame for a feature on Swinging London. That same week, they met again when the Beatles unveiled their Sergeant Pepper album at a party in their manager Brian Epstein's Belgravia pad. In September 1968 Paul asked Linda to fly to London for a date. They married six months later. Mary was born in August 1969. On the back of her father's first solo album, McCartney, she is the curious infant peeking out of her father's jacket straight at her mother's lens.

'It's a beautiful moment, isn't it?' Mary says. Does she remember much about her childhood in Scotland? 'Oh God, yeah! I remember we'd go off exploring a lot, Stella and me, and we didn't have to be watched all the time.' It's a revealing memory, a reminder that they were still the children of one of the most famous pop stars in the world and had to be protected accordingly.

How big an influence is her mother on her own photographic style? 'I'm not sure. It was more her attitude I admired. She was feisty in her own way, but not in a big, in-your-face way. I suppose she was quietly persuasive. It took me a long time to even get to that point. I used to be so green when I started, almost apologetic. I'm more like her in the way I approach my personal projects: just me and the camera and a few rolls of film. She gave me loads of advice all the time and I really miss that, chatting and arguing over the contact sheets. I remember when I used to moan about missing a great moment, a great photograph, she'd say: "Oh, don't worry, it's in your soul camera." I think she really believed that.'

Was it hard to be the child not just of famous parents, but parents who were seen as alternative types - hippies, vegetarians, animal rights activists? 'Well, my friend Josie used to call us hippy convoy kids,' she laughs. 'We were tomboys, that was down to Mum. She was a bit anti-authority, a bit rebellious. At the local comprehensive in Rye I tried to blend in but Mum and Dad would turn up in the Land Rover with the rainbow-stripe fabric on the seats. The rock hippy parents! I did the whole thing of being embarrassed as a teenager. I'd look at her odd stripy socks and go: "You're not going out dressed like that, Mum!" Now I think it's beautiful. Like the way she cut her own hair. It's quite cool, really.'

There is a powerful self-portrait of Linda towards the end of her life in Francis Bacon's studio. I ask Mary if this was the last image taken of her mother before she died. 'No,' she says haltingly. 'I think I took the last photographs of her. I was working on the press pictures for her cookbook. I think the very last one was a close-up where she is looking deep into the lens. Really intimate and poignant. The thing is,' she says, tears welling up, 'I don't think she ever saw it.'

As she composes herself, she sorts through the images. 'That's the thing about photographs,' she says. 'They are wonderful reminders of things, but they also carry memories, sadness.'

It must have been an emotional experience to sort through her mother's archive for the show. 'In one way it was, but in another it was satisfying. Me and Dad have a proper grown-up relationship now. I feel I was a kid for so long, but now we have both been through a lot. We're both divorcés, for a start,' she says, laughing mischievously.

Though I had been warned that the words Heather Mills were not to be even mentioned, it seemed an opportune moment to utter them. Did you, I ask, gritting my teeth, ever do a portrait of her? 'No,' she says, looking perplexed at the very thought. 'No. Not really. I didn't.' Funny that, I say, but she does not respond. The silence, though, says enough. In more ways than one, she is her mother's daughter.

Linda McCartney's photographs will be at the James Hyman Gallery, 5 Savile Row, London W1 (020 7494 3857) from 25 April to 19 July

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Tia Mowry

Tia Dashon Mowry-Hardrict (/ˈtiːə ˈmɔːri/; born July 6, 1978) is an American actress and model. She first gained fame for her teen role as Tia Landry on the ABC/The WB sitcom Sister, Sister (opposite her identical twin sister Tamera Mowry). From 2006 until 2012, she portrayed medical student Melanie Barnett on The CW/BET comedy-drama series The Game. She is also notable for starring in the television movie Twitches and its sequel Twitches Too. Mowry has portrayed Sasha in Bratz and Sashabella in Bratzillaz. From September 2013 to 2015, Mowry starred in Nickelodeon's Nick at Nite and TV Land comedy sitcomInstant Mom.

Tia Mowry and her sister Tamera were in a singing group in the early 1990s called Voices. The group debuted their first single "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!" in 1992.

Family and early life

Mowry was born in Gelnhausen in West Germany. Her mother, Darlene Renée Mowry (née Flowers), managed her children's careers when they were in the group Voices, and also worked as a security guard. Her father, Timothy John Mowry, was in the U.S. Army at the time of her birth, and later became a custody officer/jailer with the City of Glendale Police Department, when the family moved to California.

Her father, who is white, has English ancestry, and her mother is of Afro-Bahamian descent. Her parents met in high school, in Miami, Florida. Both joined the U.S. Army, and both would eventually reach the rank of Sergeant. Her family is "close-knit" and "very spiritual", as the sisters became born-again Christians when they were eight.

Tia is two minutes younger than her twin sister, Tamera. Tamera was born first, at 4:30pm, followed by Tia at 4:32pm. She also has two younger brothers, actor Tahj Mowry and Tavior Mowry, who plays college football for University of California, Davis.

Career

Mowry and her sister began entering pageants and talent shows while their family was stationed at Fort Hood, Texas. At age 12, they convinced their mother to move to California with them so they could pursue acting. She agreed, on the condition that they land an acting job within the first month of their stay. In 1990, their family moved to California permanently, settling in Los Angeles, and she and her sister began appearing in commercials and small roles.

She is well known for playing Tia Landry, a twin separated at birth and reunited with her sister as a teenager in the show Sister, Sister. The series was developed for them after a producer spotted them on the set of Full House, a show on which their brother made regular appearances. Sister, Sister was initially on ABC but was cancelled by the network after two years and picked up by The WB, where it ran for another four years. During its run, they appeared on an episode of their brother Tahj Mowry's show Smart Guy. They also did voice-over work for the Kids' WB cartoon series Detention.

After the show ended, both Mowry and her sister studied psychology at Pepperdine University. She also went to Europe to study humanities and Italian for a period. Both she and her sister appeared in the Rob Schneider comedy film The Hot Chick, playing cheerleaders. Mowry also did voiceovers for the Bratz cartoon series as the voice of Sasha. In 2005, Mowry and her sister both starred in the Disney Channel Original Movie Twitches and reprised their roles in its sequel, Twitches Too and before co-starred in the 2000 movie Seventeen Again. Tia also appeared on an episode of her sister's television show, Strong Medicine, in January 2006, playing the role of Keisha, the twin sister of Tamera Mowry's character, Dr. Kayla Thornton. Mowry has a starring role in the BET television series The Game as Melanie Barnett. Mowry has been nominated for a Teen Choice Award and a NAACP Image Awards for best actress in a comedy.

In the Blue's Clues episode "Blue's Birthday", Mowry and her sister make a cameo appearance as two of the celebrities wishing Blue a happy birthday. Their only line is said in unison: "Happy Birthday, Blue!"

Beginning in July 2011, the Style Network began airing Tia & Tamera, a reality show which follows the day-to-day lives of the twins; Tia being pregnant and Tamera planning her wedding.

Mowry and her sister are both singers. They have showcased their vocal abilities on episodes of Sister Sister, including covers of "You Can't Hurry Love", "Amazing Grace" and "I'm Going Down", which Tamera performed. They also sang the theme song during season five and six.

In May 2012, Mowry published her first book, Oh, Baby: Pregnancy Tales and Advice from One Hot Mama to Another, about her pregnancy and being a working mother. In May 2012, Mowry stated via her Twitter account that she would not be returning to The Game, for a sixth season. In August 2013 it was announced that she was cast in the lead role in a new Nick at Nite comedy seriesInstant Mom alongside Michael Boatman and Sheryl Lee Ralph.

In 2015, Mowry starred in the Cooking Channel series Tia Mowry at Home.

In 2016, Mowry started a podcast on PodcastOne called Mostly Mom with Tia Mowry.

Personal life

Mowry met actor Cory Hardrict on the set of a movie they filmed together. They dated for six years; became engaged on Christmas 2006, and married on April 20, 2008 in California. On January 11, 2011, People announced that Mowry and Hardrict were expecting their first child; Mowry made the announcement herself on 106 & Park. The pregnancy was documented on the show Tia & Tamerafeaturing her sister, Tamera Mowry, on the Style Network. The couple welcomed their first child, a son, Cree Taylor Hardrict, on June 28, 2011.

Mowry is the head coach of the Entertainment Basketball League celebrity team. She coaches the Atlanta team whose players include her husband, Cory Hardrict, and ex co-star, Pooch Hall. She recently coached at the battle of the sexes game in Chicago against the Sky of the WNBA.

Mowry became vegan as a New Year's resolution. She says, "I heard such great things about it. I’m absolutely enjoying it." She attributes fellow actress Alicia Silverstone's book "The Kind Diet" for helping her with the change. Mowry also posed for a PETA campaign promoting veganism.

Filmography

FilmTelevision

Awards and nominations

NAACP Image Awards

1996: Nominated – Outstanding Youth Actor/Actress for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

1999: Won – Image Award for Outstanding Actress in a Comedy Series for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

2000: Won – Image Award for Outstanding Actress in a Comedy Series for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

2008: Nominated – Image Award for Outstanding Actress in a Comedy Series for The Game

2009: Nominated – Image Award for Outstanding Actress in a Comedy Series for The Game

2011: Nominated – Outstanding Actress in a Television Movie, Mini-Series or Dramatic Special for Double Wedding

2012: Nominated – Image Award for Outstanding Actress in a Comedy Series for The Game

2013: Nominated – Outstanding Reality Series for Tia & Tamera

Teen Choice Awards

2007: Nominated – Choice TV Actress: Comedy for The Game

2012: Nominated – Choice Reality Show for Tia & Tamera (shared with Tamera Mowry)

2012: Nominated – Choice Female Reality Star for Tia & Tamera (shared with Tamera Mowry)

People's Choice Awards

2012: Nominated – Best Reality Star for Tia & Tamera (shared with Tamera Mowry)

Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards

1995 – Won – Favorite Television Actress for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

1996 – Won – Favorite Television Actress for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

1997 – Won – Favorite Television Actress for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

1998 – Nominated – Favorite Television Actress for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

1998 – Won – Hall of Fame Award (shared with Tamera Mowry)

Young Artist Awards

1995 – Nominated – Best Youth Comedienne in a TV Show for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

1996 – Nominated – Best Performance by a Young Actress – TV Comedy Series for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

1997 – Nominated – Best Performance in a TV Comedy – Leading Young Actress for Sister, Sister (shared with Tamera Mowry)

2001 – Nominated – Best Performance in a TV Movie (Comedy) – Leading Young Actress for Seventeen Again (shared with Tamera Mowry)

Wikipedia