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So glossy! Photo from my collection, ca. 1920s. The cat is identified as “Bamie” - maybe named after Bamie Roosevelt?

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cats will be like oh you're walking somewhere? no WE'RE walking somewhere. and i will get there first. where is 'there' btw

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another one

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HAPPY MONDAY! Here’s my new film “Hi Stranger”

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The so-called "walking popcorn bug" is actually a flatid planthopper nymph covered with a protective layer of waxy white filament, like a cottony cushion.

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Guys look at this GIANT millipede!! Free pattern from Projectarian! 🐛✨

Definitely want to make one myself!

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Mooncat by Denise Warren

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I can't fix things. But I can change things.

This is for You. You know who You are.

Tenebrosi.

That which is lost is never truly gone.

-set in a place where the Count returned. And so did Renfield, back to Master's side.

---

Most of Count Dracula's possessions had been lost. It was inevitable; existing for over half a millennium meant you could only accumulate so much before it started slipping through your fingers. Dracula had had several assistants over those centuries, and, of course, each had inevitably failed him. He had begun to think abject failure was human nature.

Then Mister Renfield arrived at his castle. Repressed, diligent, fawning, faithful Renfield. Obsessive in his servitude and his bookkeeping. Decades of losses, gains, whos and whats and wheres all noted and tabbed and itemised in his tight scribbling script.

But Renfield was still human, and thus prone to failure. Renfield betrayed his Master in some act of immortal teenage rebellion and set fire to the hospital in which they had been living, the fire ravaging every possession of Dracula's that Renfield and his police friend had not taken to sell.

Now here they are. Though the Lobos have introduced the vampire to the wonders of eBay and black markets, he still feels a bit angry about the fire. Count Dracula has ordered Renfield to stand beside a table with his hand out, fingers spread, palm facing down. The Count sets a candle under the familiar's hand and lights it. Renfield knows better than to jerk his hand away as his Master moves his hand so the flame starts licking at his skin.

"It really is a shame you didn't think to retain at least some of your records," the Count sighs as he paces around Renfield. Renfield keeps his eyes forward. Tears are already starting to well in his big blue eyes as the skin of his palm starts to sizzle.

"You never once thought about how your actions would affect me. I really don't know where this aggression came from, but perhaps, with time, we can both move past the lingering issues caused by your dalliance with a different life." He presses a claw to the back of Renfield's hand, lowering it just a few centimeters. The both of them can smell the familiar's skin starting to burn. 

Count Dracula sneers at the sound of whimpering- Renfield's trying to talk.

"What was that, servant?"

"I-" He has to take a deep breath. "I r-r-remember one of paaainting w-w-we sold!"

Dracula strokes his chin and continues his saunter around Renfield's trembling form. The only sounds for a long moment are footsteps, shuddering sobs, and the crackle of charred flesh.

Finally, the Count speaks. "Do you really remember which paintings you so cruelly sold as well as the people stupid enough to buy something from the likes of you?"

"Y-y-yes, at l-l-l-least one, now, th-th- aaah-" Renfield's pale face contorts briefly as the flame digs into the tendons in his palm. "Th-the Flaaaagellation- oh, Christ, b-b-b-by Carav-" Renfield stops to take another shuddering breath and Dracula grabs his chin and digs his claws in.

"Say the full title and artist's name, Renfield."

The familiar's hand twitches as sinews blacken and nerves die. "The Flagellation of Christ by Caravaggio" he recites through his tears. "The origin-original, y-y-you told me o-once that th- fuck- the one in N-n-naples is a ffffforgery you had made..."

"You remember the buyer?"

"Yes," Renfield sobs.

Dracula thinks for another long moment as the candle fire eats it's way to the bones in Renfield's hand. Then, swiftly, he pushes his servant's arm out of the way.

"Find out where the buyer lives," he says with a note of boredom in his voice, watching Renfield grasp his charred hand and sink to his knees, "and if they still have my painting I will heal you once it is returned to it's rightful owner."

Renfield clutches his burned hand to his chest and rightly grovels, kissing his Master's boots while he's on the ground.

Three minutes later, Renfield's got his hand in a makeshift bandage and is scrawling information down for Lobos members to take upstairs, out of the dungeon and into the world. Dracula seems downright optimistic that the Lobos will get the painting back; he is already ordering Renfield to start moving furniture so that the painting will be the focal point of the room.

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excerpt from “Miss you. Would like to take a walk with you.” by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

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Vladimir Kush (Russian, b.1965)

Stealthy night

Oil on canvas

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The person I reblogged this from deserves happiness and love

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Wholesome Pics Of Black Cats To Show They Have Nothing To Do With Bad Luck