#Fly tying with foam

[panfishonthefly]

Flat Daddy Gurgler

For the past few years, I have had an obscure fly pattern, first developed by British anglers, in my panfish fly box. The fly is called a Flat Daddy and imitates an adult cranefly. While craneflies find their way onto my local panfish lakes and fish do eat them, they are not a common occurrence. I fish the Flat Daddy as a generic, buggy-looking terrestrial pattern. It doesn’t look like anything in particular, and I don’t even think it represents a cranefly that well, although the fish would argue that point! But it has all the right stuff regarding a topwater terrestrial pattern for panfish. It floats in the water instead of on it, is very buggy looking, and the knotted pheasant tail legs and soft hackle collar provide just enough fish-attracting movement. The little bit of flash in the underbody is an attractant as well.

The original Flat Daddy is the perfect fly for spooky, shallow-water panfish. It lands lightly on the water and can be cast easily with two and three-weight rods. The fly has a very subtle action on the water, diving slightly when retrieved without creating a lot of disturbance that may spook fish in the shallows. It is the perfect early spring topwater fly pattern.

Fast-forward to mid-summer, the fish have left the shallows and are now holding in deeper water. You need to get their attention to bring them to the surface now. Enter the Flat Daddy Gurgler. By leaving a foam lip on the pattern, it moves more water when twitched, creating a larger disturbance on the water’s surface. The extra foam increases the fly’s floating ability, but it still sits low in the film, allowing you to hang a wet fly or lightly weighted nymph off the back. The fly retains its lightness and can be cast on any fly rod. If you are an ultralight enthusiast, this fly will cast well on your lightest fly rod.

I tie the fly on a Firehole 839 in sizes 12 and 14. The 839 is a streamer hook with a 3x-long shank and an extra-wide gap. The heavy wire hook makes the fly sit low in the water, providing extra strength when that bass comes along and eats your panfish fly. If you can’t find this hook, a long shank dry or nymph hook will work well for this fly.

You can tie the fly with a simple strip of foam the width of the hook gap and round out the tail with scissors. To streamline the tying process and produce a fly with a more finished appearance, I use a Chernobyl Ant Foam Cutter with a tapered end to create perfectly sized strips of foam with a tapered, rounded end. The fly can be tied in a wide variety of colors, my favorites being tan, olive brown, black, and yellow. I use various colors of dubbing for the underbody with a holographic tinsel rib. The knotted pheasant tail legs look super buggy, and the soft hackle collar adds color and movement to the pattern.

Pattern Recipe:

Hook: Firehole 789 sizes 12 and 14

Thread: Semperfli Classic Waxed 6/0 Red

Tail and Body: Strip of 2mm foam (width of the hook shank/one end rounded)

Rib: Small or medium holographic tinsel

Underbody: Brushed out dubbing in color to compliment or contrast foam body

Legs: Four to six knotted pheasant tail legs

Hackle: Hen or game bird body feather

Tip: Using a tapered-end Chernobyl Ant Body Foam Cutter creates a perfect body for this fly pattern.

Tying Instructions:

1. Lay down a base layer of thread.

2. Tie in a foam strip at the bend. The tail should be a shank length long, with a rounded end hanging off the back of the hook.

3. Tie in holographic tinsel rib.

4. Apply dubbing to thread and wrap forward, stopping a hook eye length from the front of the hook.

5. Brush out dubbed body.

6. Wrap tinsel forward in open turns and tie off.

7. Select four to six knotted pheasant tail legs and tie them equally distributed on each side of the hook.

8. Tie in a body feather from a hen or game bird in the color of your choice and wrap around the hook shank, sweeping fibers rearward with each turn.

9. Fold the foam strip forward and tie it off at the hook eye.

10. Lift the foam strip, build up a small head underneath the foam, and whip finish.

11. Cut the foam strip a short distance from the hook eye to create the gurgler lip.

12. Coat thread wraps with UV Resin or head cement if desired.

[midorimooon]

oh my gosh i just saw the notification for Time To Pretend and have to sit through the next 2 hours at work foaming at the mouth until i can go home and read it 😭😭😭

the perfect way to celebrate jean boy's birthday <3

but i must ask my dear, what would you and jean be doing on his special day?

p.s. ty for writing TTP it's sooooooo special xox

Wildie!! I hope those two hours fly by!! Hehehe it’ll be there waiting for you <3 something for everyone’s monday, and to celebrate Jean’s bday, I couldn’t resist posting it today!! The best way to close out the story 🥲

Ooooooh!! As far as what he and I are doing for his bday — since the weather in my ends has gotten crazy warm recently, we’re spending the morning outside, touching grass, shooting some basketball, and im treating this man to a fancy brunch <3 

We may stop by and visit his parents in the afternoon and catch up with them before having a get-together at Connie’s place in the evening with friends, having game night (board games, billiards), laughs, and wine 🍷 lol!

After that though, with just us….ahem, a special surprise for the birthday boy from yours truly  ;) also tysm wildie for your kind words 🥺 time to pretend has been a very special project for the last few years, happy and sad to finish it!!

[skeelly]

"when im fat and old and my kids think im a joke"

hi!! welcome. i suggest putting a seatbelt on and i will pay for your therapy, dont worry. :)

☘ "hi, it's me. im the problem it's me.": im kristen! you can call me kristen or kris. minor. she/her. intp-t. ambivert. 🇵🇭. reader (sort of). notes app writer (sometimes). i could not care less about my dumb typos so deal with it. i suck at math. biiiiiggg ophelia wilde fan. delulu swiftie no.9273737277. rodrigoxpartidge's biggest supporter. claire rosinkranz is the reason for my existence. gracie abrams ily. "how long can we be a sad song?". im married to grayson hawthorne. mirrorball//tolerate it girlie 4 life. stromboli fan until the day i die. nick girlie by heart. pjo stan at this point. harry potter simp. hermione granger is my mother. sherlock and enola holmes stan. "no body, no crime". haylor (sorry not sorry). one direction is my life. FREE PALESTINE. kenji, my spirit animal. jude is so ughhhhh perfect. javery shipper cause jameson for avery, grayson for me :3. massive k!nye west hater so if you like him, please leave. but i love rap. certified professional procrastinator. capricorn (not a believer in those things though). i love reading poetry. correct grammar = non existent. i can (technically) fluently speak 3 languages. i can speak (basic, not much) about 5 languages?. piano enthusiast. very big sport girly (football *soccer. america football can kiss my toes. that sport sucks*, f1, volleyball, badminton, basketball, tennis and hockey fan). walker scobell is perfect and i love him. c²>>>>. sharl leclerc. max the axe. oscar paistry. ankara messi. sewy. leah is my bestie. dior is the best artist no cap. pookie nation frfr. charlie's luke is best luke. andrew is underrated. olivea is jusssttt.

☘ rappers i like//listen to: eminem, lil skies, ysbtril (does he count?), nicki minaj, doja cat (:3), cardi b (rarely), dominic fike (does he count? yk, melodic rap). tbh idk who else lol.

☘ all around favorite artists: taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, claire rosinkranz, gracie abrams, the weeknd, doja cat, lil skies, ysbtril, selena gomez (?), harry styles, niall horan, louis tomlinson, zayn, liam payne, one direction, clairo, conan gray, lana del rey, one republic, why don't we, the neighborhood, billie elish, ariana grande, abba, michael jackson.

☘ navigation?:

rambles: #kristenstedtalk

anything i don't proof read: #i didn't proof read this lmao

grayson hawthorne: #loml

cringe posts that idk why i posted: #/j or #post to delete?

asks: #askaroo or #ty for answering <3

sturniolo triplets: #stombolis

☘ follower count (as of march 20): 313 (im actually not sure lol)

☘ DNI: racists, homophobes, sexists and anyone that's ok with any form of discrimination

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

☘ safe space for: everyone lol

☘ my other accounts: @crysten my writing and other stuff @skeellymellows book rants (AAAH I CANT TAG)

☘ books/movies/series: harry potter, pjo, aggtm, tig, sherlock/enola holmes, little women, black beauty, tsitp, better than the movies. hp, pjo, enola holmes, tsitp, gilmore girls, gossip girl, mean girls, legally blonde, little women, hunger games (haven't read the books), marvel (barely lol), secretariat (my favorite :>>). tbh idk what else lol

☘ my people:

@stvrgirl111//@stvrlighhttt (mare) #maree

@urbanflorals (em) #walkers wife

@gergthecat (scouty) #evil batman sourdough guy #bread man #george

@mqstermindswift (quason) #nickyy

@nqds (NADS) #nads! or was it #NADS! ??

@reminiscentreader (JAS) #theworldneedsmorepeoplelikejas

@sophiesonlinediary (fifi) #fifi <3

@myster3y (kiaraah) #kiaraah

@regisdvmb(reggggg) ✶ @coco6420 (cocoo) ✶ @eddiethebanished (finn :)) ✶ @themidnightarcher ✶ @starchasers-stuff ✶ @what-about-wendy (wendy <3) ✶ @lucinda-008 ✶ @foaming-sea ✶ @lonelycatsblog ✶ @good-old-fashioned-lover ✶ @my-mind-is-frozen ✶ @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies ✶ @baboland ✶ @blocked-zombieartist ✶ @sturn-wrld ✶ @swiftieannah ✶ @weeping-in-the-willows ✶ @s1xseasonsandamov1e ✶ @the-red-archer ✶ @svnflowermoon ✶ @helpimhopelesslyinlove ✶ @doyoujustnotwantto ✶ @atwtmvftvtvsgavralpsss ✶ @oh-whale13 ✶ @bonesofnixie ✶ @art-of-fools (stephanieee) ✶ @percabeths-blue-cookies ✶ @imthatweirdratinthecorner (a rat <3) ✶ @letmeseeallthefrogsinthecity ✶ @that-multi-fandom-hijabi (novaaa) ✶ @rachellelizabethhdare ✶ @sluttypoetsdepartment ✶ @kimu-dem ✶

[puck-luck]

Haiii Andy!! Can I order a mocha for Alex Newhook with peppermint (friends to lovers) and cold foam (they’re just so so SO excited about the Habs making playoffs that they let lose on each other) thank you!! Happy one year!!

new character unlocked! i loooove alex newhook he's so cutie and i could not be more disappointed that he has a girlfriend. i hope they are very happy together and this fic was their experience after the habs clinched </3

You have one friend in the building where you live. His name is Alex and he’s a professional hockey player and tonight is one of the biggest nights of his career. If they win this game at the Bell Centre, defeating the Carolina Hurricanes, then they’ll make the playoffs for the first time since 2021. It’s no pressure on Alex, really– he already won a Stanley Cup with the Avalanche when he played in Colorado, but he’d love to win another with the team he now calls his family.

He invited you to the game tonight, getting you a ticket and a pass that allows you to go to the family suite and the players’ parking garage, where you’ll join Alex after the game.

The atmosphere at the game is incredible and you’re running off of pure adrenaline as you wait outside Alex’s car. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet and waving at the people who pass, husbands and wives and kids and players and girlfriends, all of whom you’ve met before and recognize. You’ve been around for longer than you thought, you realize. You feel like you’re part of the group, although you and Alex are just friends. 

Sometimes you think there might be something more there, given how you both run to and rely on each other, but you snap yourself away from that train of thought when you spot Alex walking towards you, the door to the players-only area swinging shut behind him. 

“Newy!” you cheer, a smile splitting your face. You cross the lot towards him, breaking into a skip when you see Alex’s own wide grin.

“We did it!” he shouts jovially, spreading his arms wide.

You fly into them, crashing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Alex sweeps you off your feet with his arms around your waist, laughing out loud. It’s the most intimate thing you’ve ever done with Alex, you think, but it feels right.

He spins you around a few times, long enough that when he stops, you feel a bit dizzy. Your head is light and you’re laughing and cheesing hard and Alex looks so cute when he’s giddy like this. You lean in and press your lips to his, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. You can feel Alex freeze in surprise, but then he kisses you back enthusiastically.

The adrenaline in your blood spikes and courses faster as Alex’s lips move against yours. You open your mouth when his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, and Alex’s grip on your waist tightens.

A honk startles you both, your bodies jumping apart. 

Cole laughs from his car, Alex waving him off. He seizes your hand and drags you across the parking lot once Cole drives away, pushing you up against the passenger side door and kissing you again, urgency driving his actions.

All thoughts go out the window when Alex’s tongue enters your mouth. Within minutes, you’ve fumbled with the passenger side door and pulled it open, finding yourself seated on Alex’s lap. He pushes the seat back so there’s plenty of legroom, then reclines so that your head isn’t brushing the ceiling. Alex cradles your face and pulls you down on top of him, devouring you.

Being in public isn’t a problem for you or Alex, evidently. You remove your jeans quickly, then Alex tugs his shorts down. He reaches behind himself into the backseat, grabbing a sweatshirt and tying it around your waist. “Can’t wait to fuck you, but I don’t want everyone to see,” he explains quickly. You’ve got a hand on his cock and you’re lining it up with your entrance, panties pulled to the side, eager to surround his length with the heat between your legs.

The windows steam up as Alex fucks into you, your exhales heating up the inside of his vehicle. It makes the air between you more humid, more tangible, hotter. You’re drunk on the taste of Alex and the drag of his cock against your walls. There’s the belated realization that he’s bare inside of you, but it feels so right that you just double down and roll your hips vigorously.

Warm cums spills inside you as Alex’s thumb fits over your clit, spiraling along the nerves until you’re shaking and panting against the corner of his mouth, body tight but quivering atop him.

He whispers something about promising to take you home, but you curl up with his cock inside of you and your head in the crook of his neck and close your eyes. The smell of sex lingers in the air, but Alex’s hair has a trace of something sweet in it, and it may just lull you to sleep… in the parking lot of the Bell Centre.

[abyssmalice]

REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST

bold the aesthetic for your muse italicize what can be taken 2 ways

the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. /  “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ”  / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away.  /  “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ”  / guilt that isn’t yours to have.  /  it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town.  / chains.  /  “ how could you do this to me? ”  /  the sharp sting of guilt.  /  you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite.  / the family you never had.  /  falling backwards through time. /  quicksand. /  drowning, but you don’t save yourself.  /

“ you’re getting better. ”  / “ they smile like a snake. ”  /  you’re the stars and the sky.  /  there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there.  /  “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ”  /  you edge a bit too close to the sun.  /  another ghost to take your place after every stumble.  /  deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. /  rock candy melting in water. /  waves rise and leave the foam behind. /  the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually.  / happiness is the best front a man can take. /  

“ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. ” /  you disagree; they’re more beautiful. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. /  rain comes down.  / poppy fields.  /  your sanity hanging by a thread.  / “ oh god, what have you done? ”  / roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you try to help, but it only got worse. /  now they’re dead, it’s all your fault.  /  adam & eve in the garden.  / a temptress in crisp button-downs.  /  “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ”  /  

they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. /  the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre.  /  sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side.  /  yves saint laurent black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape.  /  crisp green apples piled up on the table. /  your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper.  /  what a pretty one, they say.  /  you laugh without humour.  /  a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. /  the seat of power fits like a glove. /  heavy is the head that wears the crown.  /  you share a space, but not a mind. /  they think you are weak; you are, maybe.  /  “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” /  an empty bird’s nest. /  broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill.  /  

“ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that .”  / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ”  / corruption.  /  there’s a red string tying you together.  /  the scent of whiskey on the horizon. /  “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ”  / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. /  you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine.  /  there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered.  / loon is the word of the day.  /  hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. /  you drift, but you know where you’re going. /  

no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless.  / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine.  / court hearings. /  “ i miss you. ”  /  siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece.  /  ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church.  /  proud marble busts faceless & crumbling: a proud mirror to your waning sanity. /  you will do anything to keep them. tear apart the world, mass murder: all that matters is that you’re together.

[akuheito]

REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST

bold the aesthetic for your muse italicize what can be taken 2 ways.

the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. /  “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ”  / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away.  /  “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ”  / guilt that isn’t yours to have.  /  it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town.  / chains.  /  “ how could you do this to me? ”  /  the sharp sting of guilt.  /  you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite.  / the family you never had.  /  falling backwards through time. /  quicksand. /  drowning, but you don’t save yourself.  / “ you’re getting better. ”  / “ they smile like a snake. ”  /  you’re the stars and the sky.  /  there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there.  /  “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ”  /  you edge a bit too close to the sun.  /  another ghost to take your place after every stumble.  /  deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. /  rock candy melting in water. /  waves rise and leave the foam behind. /  the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually.  / happiness is the best front a man can take. /  “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. ” /  you disagree; they’re more beautiful. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. /  rain comes down.  / poppy fields.  /  your sanity hanging by a thread.  / “ oh god, what have you done? ”  / roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you try to help, but it only got worse. /  now they’re dead, it’s all your fault.  /  adam & eve in the garden.  / a temptress in crisp button-downs.  /  “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ”  /  they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. /  the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre.  /  sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side.  /  yves saint laurent black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape.  /  crisp green apples piled up on the table. /  your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper.  /  what a pretty one, they say.  /  you laugh without humour.  /  a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. /  the seat of power fits like a glove. /  heavy is the head that wears the crown.  /  you share a space, but not a mind. /  they think you are weak; you are, maybe.  /  “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” /  an empty bird’s nest. /  broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill.  /  “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that .”  / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ”  / corruption.  /  there’s a red string tying you together.  /  the scent of whiskey on the horizon. /  “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ”  / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. /  you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine.  /  there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered.  / loon is the word of the day.  /  hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. /  you drift, but you know where you’re going. /  no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless.  / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine.  / court hearings. /  “ i miss you. ”  /  siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece.  /  ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church.  /  proud marble busts faceless & crumbling: a proud mirror to your waning sanity. /  you will do anything to keep them. tear apart the world, mass murder: all that matters is that you’re together.

[pxppet]

Doing some old prompts! They're from the second blog back when this one was deleted. You can see a drawing of Anti's mark here.

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

Jameson shifts uncomfortably. He feels like the scrubs and latex gloves might have been just for show with how filthy the basement is. Anti is dressed in them as well, looming over Chase, who is tossed haphazardly onto a gurney that JJ doesn't know the origin of. He tugs at the sleeves and shuffles as Anti readies a syringe with a sedative.

He claps softly for attention, and Anti whirls, teeth bared behind his medical mask. Jameson blinks at the completely full needle. "Is that the right dose? Anti, he's already unconscious from you hitting him. How much are you giving him?"

"Enough. It won't kill him."

Jameson blanches at him, but Anti doesn't acknowledge it, turning back to Chase and injecting him with the clear liquid inside. JJ fidgets with his fingers, touching each one to his thumb in a pattern. Giving himself anything else to focus on. Anti shuffles in a cabinet behind him, and he tries not to let goosebumps rise at his master being behind him.

A light whirring starts up, and Jameson looks up to see an older looking tattoo gun. Anti meets his eyes, and he can see the grin in his eyes even with his mouth obscured. Anti moves to Chase, sighing through his mask as he strokes a hand over Chase's limp hair. "Little pet," he murmurs. "You'll look so beautiful with my mark on you."

Jameson's fingers trace the tattoo on his neck without his permission; an endless circle and a dotted line wrapping around his throat to Anti's demonic sigil tattooed neatly on the back of his neck, where Anti loves to grab him.

The tattoo gun pierces along Chase's skin, and Jameson feels something cold in his stomach. Is it pity? Hate? Ah. No, his brain says, it is jealousy. He's been the sole bearer of Anti's mark for so long. What makes this new pet so deserving? He glances over Anti's shoulder, and a breath escapes him. Anti isn't marking his neck. Rather, the tattoo is on his wrist, tracing a circle around the boney flesh. He can't help the smugness that crosses his mind at the sight.

"Pass me some tissues, he's bleeding." Anti holds out a hand expectantly, and Jameson responds promptly like any good pet. Anti wipes away the redness, huffing. "He'll be bound to me, isn't that wonderful? Just like you, dear." Anti spares a rare petname, turning to smile at Jameson. JJ smiles back, despite the mask, calmed by Anti's current pleasant demeanor. He always gets so oddly calm when things go his way, shoulders relaxing from their taut drawn hold and usually angry face softening. Jameson takes these moments and keeps them in mental photographs. His master, looking happy and kind...

While he's distracted in his mind, Anti finishes the tattoo, pulling off his mask to reveal his toothy grin, mismatched eyes wild. "Isn't it beautiful?" Anti holds up Chase's limp wrist, sparse blood blending in with the deep black ink. The circle seems to make the air around it pulse slightly, especially when it meets Anti's skin. The ink is lightly infused with his blood, tying his puppets to him forever, though how figurative that is is unknown to all but Anti.

Anti cocks his head, his eyes blacking over. He gestures to Jameson, who immediately comes to him. He places a hand lightly around the man's throat. Jamesons lip part, and he shudders as he feels Anti's magic coursing through all three of them, like electricity being conducted.

"Doesn't it feel amazing?"

Jameson would rather use a word like 'terrifying', but all he does is nod in agreement.

-

Chase wakes to a pounding headache. His body jolts and he clutches at his chest, closed eyes flying open. He lets out a groan, but he's too beaten to rise, slumping against his pillow. Ah- a pillow? He's on a bed? A proper one, too, not just a dog bed or foam mattress on the ground. Is he even chained up? He lifts his wrists to check and stops short. He isn't bound, but there's cellophane wrap and tape around his left wrist. He itches at it, fighting the temptation to take it off immediately. It's definitely covering a tattoo, what else could it be. Fuck. He lays down again and pinches his eyes shut. Scars and bruises are one thing, but a tattoo is permanent. He tries to breathe slowly, attempting to calm himself.

The lock on the outside of the door slides open, and Chase scurries underneath his blanket, feebly attempting to hide. But no harsh words or sharp blows come down. A pale hand removes the blanket gingerly, and Jameson's slightly annoyed face appears to him.

"F-... food," Jameson croaks out, his throat straining so hard he coughs slightly, massaging at his throat. The action draws Chase's eyes to his tattoo. Funny, he never thought to question it, despite it not being one of Jack's tattoos at the time of the puppet's creation.

"Where did the tattoo come from, on your neck? Is it- did he-?" Chase gestures at his own wrist as JJ sets out a tray with two ham sandwiches and two bowls of plain rice. Chase blinks at it, distracted. "You're eating with me?"

Jameson sits on the bed and just goes about eating his sandwich. Chase can't understand his sign, and asking so many questions like that, he's just talking at him, not to him at this point. Chase quiets as well, scooting over and eating his food, scooping up rice with his fingers.

"Anti did do the tattoo, didn't he? And- and now he's tattooed me. What does- d-does it mean?'

Jameson sets down his sandwich, massaging his throat again, clearing it. "O-ownership."

Chase stares at him, chewing his lip. "We don't belong to him. We're our own people-"

Jameson places a hand over Chase's mouth, glaring at him in warning. Chase swallows hard and nods, going quiet. He turns to his food, eating cautiously. "So much for getting our of here, huh," Chase mutters.

Jameson sighs, tearing off a tiny bite of turkey. Yeah, getting out. He nearly laughs at Chase's naivety. No one gets out when it comes to Anti.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Hi Nadica!! Ty for all you do here!!

I think it was you I saw mentioning the trick of taping a sponge to the inside of a mask to make it less humid in there—if it was, what kind of sponge do you use?

My partner struggles to wear a mask for long periods. It doesn't come up often cuz she wfh but she has to fly this week! I wanna make it easier on her but when I tried to search what kind of sponge to use all I find is reporting on covid blocking compounds in sea sponges 😅

I've never used a natural sponge, but I'm not sure it would work well for this application. I use just that squishy black foam that's used for like costuming I think? It's just what I have on hand, and it's just like the stuff they sell for the elastomerics I own that offer them. Just for the record, I don't think this would work in a disposable mask: They're porous and elastomerics aren't by design. It might be something to try if they're having a real issue with condensation. I don't think it would make it less humid, but it would deal with collecting water.

[tf2-oneshots]

may i request a freedom fries fic where solly giving spy random hug attacks and spy pretending to be annoyed by them but secretly loves them because he’s touched starved? ty in advance!

GOD YES

Warning: none!

Rating: General

“Commander Chomp, deploy yourself.” Soldier sets one of his raccoons onto the floor, and the snarling beast skitters away. He climbs up the furniture and leaps towards an unsuspecting Spy, who immediately screams.

The raccoon lands on her arm, crawling and climbing across his body as the man rises. Spy shakes and flails in an effort to toss the creature off of himself. He crawls down her back, over her head, and under his armpit with those devil claws.

With a powerful twist of the body, Chomp goes flying and lands on a bookshelf. He gives a disgruntled hiss before hurrying to a nearby nest. As she stares at the little monster, Soldier comes in from behind and hugs her. Bulky arms holding much too tight for comfort.

“MON D—Soldat, why was I viciously attacked by that thing?” He turns around, glaring at the American whose arms rest around her waist. Soldier simply looks up with his darling grin as if nothing was amiss. Even as the raccoon loudly hisses from the nest.

“A distraction so that I could ambush you with a hug! Oorah!” In his head, it was the perfect strategy. Send Commander Chomp in to get Spy’s attention then surprise her! What Soldier failed to realize was the fact that Spy would have to defend himself from a rabid animal. The foam dripping from the jaws enough to prove that she should absolutely not get bitten.

“Your little ambushes are obnoxious, juvenile, and utterly pointless in the grand scheme of simple PDA.” Soldier did not understand a single word that statement. He simply gives Spy another smile and kisses her lips.

“Hehehe. Silly Spy, PDA are the people who keep our great American food and drugs safe!” How desperately Spy wants to correct him for a number of reasons. Her balled fists still, and he simply huffs with disdain.

“Dearest, you know how much I hate surprise hugs.” And yet, Spy finds his hands cupping Soldier’s square jaw. His firm, all American features that make Spy fan herself most days. Still, she leans in for a kiss, arms embracing the man tenderly. Such a peculiar partner Spy has chosen for himself.

“And yet you are giving me a hug! The mission was a success! Medals for everyone!” Spy chuckles. Dear god, how could she have fallen for such a strange man? At least his hugs are warm, and his lips always in wait of a kiss.

“This is not a hug. It is a backstab.” Right as she aims the knife, Commander Chomp returns! He dives onto Spy, buried deep in her suit as she screams. The couple separate so that she can run frantically like an animal. Glasses and picture frames rattle as Spy slams his back against the wall.

Eventually, Spy removes her jacket and wraps it around Chomps. With the wriggling sack of raccoon in one hand, the other opens a window and tosses the animal outside. There, several of his companions sit in wait before returning to Soldier’s room through the vents.

“Soldier? My joyous light? I will kill you if one of your disgusting creatures touches me again.” Spy grimaces at her tattered jacket. She sighs, knowing how expensive it will be to replace. So much for seat warmers in his convertible. Maybe next year.

“You sound like you need a real, genuine American hug! Open your arms, maggot!” Arms outstretched, Soldier drags her in front of the fireplace. The two stand, Soldier happy to hug while Spy takes out a cigarette to smoke. What a strange man indeed. At least they missed the wine collection.

Gay people in my phone -H

[fuckyeahthomaspynchon]

Inside the bowl, the two goldfish are making a Pisces sign, head-to-tail and very still. Penelope sits and peers into their world. There is a little sunken galleon, a china diver in a diving suit, pretty stones and shells she and her sisters have brought back from the sea.

Aunt Jessica and Uncle Roger are out in the kitchen, hugging and kissing. Elizabeth is teasing Claire in the hallway. Their mother is in the W.C. Sooty the cat sleeps in a chair, a black thundercloud on the way to something else, who happens right now to look like a cat. It’s Boxing Day. The evening’s very still. The last rocket bomb was an hour ago, somewhere south. Claire got a golliwog, Penelope a sweater, Elizabeth a frock that Penelope will grow into.

The pantomime Roger took them all to see this afternoon was Hansel and Gretel. Claire immediately took off under the seats where others were moving about by secret paths, a flash of braid or of white collar now and then among the tall attentive uncles in uniform, the coat-draped backs of seats. On stage Hansel, who was supposed to be a boy but was really a tall girl in tights and smock, cowered inside the cage. The funny old Witch foamed at the mouth and climbed the scenery. And pretty Gretel waited by the Oven for her chance. . . .

Then the Germans dropped a rocket just down the street from the theatre. A few of the little babies started crying. They were scared. Gretel, who was just winding up with her broom to hit the Witch right in the bum, stopped: put the broom down, in the gathering silence stepped to the footlights, and sang:

Oh, don’t let it get you,

It will if they let you, but there’s

Something I’ll bet you can’t see—

It’s big and it’s nasty and it’s right over there,

It’s waiting to get its sticky claws in your hair!

Oh, the greengrocer’s wishing on a rainbow today,

And the dustman is tying his tie . . .

And it all goes along to the same jolly song,

With a peppermint face in the sky!

“Now sing along,” she smiled, and actually got the audience, even Roger, to sing:

With a peppermint face in the sky-y,

And a withered old dream in your heart,

You’ll get hit with a piece of the pie-ie,

With the pantomime ready to start!

Oh, the Tommy is sleeping in a snowbank tonight,

And the Jerries are learning to fly—

We can fly to the moon, we’ll be higher than noon,

In our polythene home in the sky. . . .

Pretty polythene home in the sky,

Pretty platinum pins in your hand—

Oh your mother’s a big fat machine gun,

And your father’s a dreary young man. . . .

(Whispered and staccato):

Oh, the, man-a-ger’s suck-ing on a corn-cob, pipe,

And the bank-ers are, eat-ing their, wives,

All the world’s in a daze, while the orchestra plays,

So turn your pockets and get your surprise—

Turn your pockets and get-your surpri-ise,

There was nobody there af-ter all!

And the lamps up the stairway are dying,

It’s the season just after the ball . . .

Oh the palm-trees whisper on the beach somewhere,

And the lifesaver’s heaving a sigh,

And those voices you hear, Boy and Girl of the Year,

Are of children who are learning to die. . . .

Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow

[flickinfeathers]

Fly Tying: A Sheet foam Slider with Martyn White

[hunting-songs]

REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST.

bold  the aesthetic  for your  muse italicize what can be taken 2 ways or applies only partially.

“ you rise, I fall, I stand, you crawl, you twist, I turn. ” / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / a face in the mirror that you don’t recognize. / “ how could you do this to me? ” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there./ “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind./ the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “ oh god, what have you done? ” /

your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself./ the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper./ a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown./ you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “ jump. I dare you. ”/ 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “ I was hoping that you’d understand. ” /there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered./ loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ”/ siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. /

“ they say your name is death. ”/all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “ what are you waiting for? ” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. /the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming. / learn through teaching. / there were things; your own acts from which you could not recover. / how the other half dies. / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” /  your mother crashed against the rocks to give you the world. /  you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you. / “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / i am awake in the place where women die. /thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church. / you will do anything to spare them. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / the worst monsters wear the faces of men. / “ madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me. ”/ “ my blood ran cold. ” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you.

[constellationcrowned]

MUSE AESTHETICS Bold for constants, italics for situational things

Muse: Kariom

“just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl.” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “you’ll get it done before the day is up.” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / a face in the mirror that you don’t recognize. / “how could you do this to me?” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “you’re getting better.” / “they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly.” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “oh god, what have you done?” / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you?” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. /

there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that.” / “they weren’t there when it happened.” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. /“you’re the best friend i’ve ever had.” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “jump. i dare you.” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “i was hoping that you’d understand.” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “i miss you.” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / god-blood. /“they say your name is death.” / all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “what are you waiting for?” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. /the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming./ learn through teaching. / there were things; your own acts from which you could not recover. / how the other half dies. / “have you ever thought about why trees bleed?” /  your mother crashed against the rocks to give you the world. / you are not safe. you are alone. no one is coming for you./ “go down with me, fall with me.” / i am awake in the place where women die. / thunder rolling on the hills. / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church./ you will do anything to spare them. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / every sparrow god forgot. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / the worst monsters wear the faces of men. / “madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me.” / “my blood ran cold.” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you.

[waveswallowed]

MUSE AESTHETIC.

bold the aesthetic for your muse, italicize what can be taken two ways. repost, don’t reblog.

“ you rise, I fall, I stand, you crawl, you twist, I turn. ” / the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / “ how could you do this to me?” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ they smile like a snake. ” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water./ waves rise and leave the foam behind. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can take. / “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before.”/ you disagree; they’re more beautiful. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “oh god, what have you done? ” / roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you try to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side./ yes saint laurent black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape./ crisp green apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / what a pretty one, they say. / you laugh without humor. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. /the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” /

corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going./ no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / “ they say your name is death. ” / all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “ what are you waiting for? ” / a diaphanous sea of rose petals. / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. / the burn was so slow no one ever saw it coming. / learn through teaching. / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” / sleeping nude as a means to declare you want to stay. / “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church. / you will do anything to keep them. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / “ madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me. ” / “ my blood ran cold. ” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you. / wake in nightmares / are you an illusion? / I don’t feel real. / who is in control?

TAGGED BY: stolen. TAGGING: anyone who wants to do it!

[libidomechanica]

That let him livid

With suitors’ kisses, sweet a slave?     A boat sliding hip to him three lines and pebbles, foam and     strong Foundation of the

Past, but with the way, is bigger     than the glass of wine, and with his numbered kisses, we prisoners,     dividing clove an

adventurous life’s variety,     and I myself as Spring a particularly     heavy gate, and gives the

beginner; pleasure quaffs, to hear     you’re seared to be transactions as gallant too. Like these two     poor Katinka, and Dudu;

in short beside the leaves, say,     who have no correspondence with me and past. For he has     made with a sword! And never

knowing; but to get through a     broken heart, and its lovely hand and round their sin: each suck     the first did with his speech,

Love as I ought I would make thy     virtue there. Young women, and Dudu; in short, or talk’d a     dame whose eyes to wonder

what is becomes a hungry, and     disconsolate, the games. Greece, he won’t do it. Is this moorland     fly in, were spread with

prayer. Past, but came as night long     endure: and whilst our wants that hour, than ever to stand near     the voice of youth conversation

with all retired; the open     window, if I touch her wrath did end. A blessing or     vanish’d, for to lend, I

mourn to play, love, if they die. Wage     is death of love in what to the green? To stay with me, sweet,     and on the waterlily

starts and touch the fingers tying     my should he not love Truth and Dread and lands—the road she     bang’d me, if you would have

them all attended. Sobbed in a     glass which select Haidee forgot to play. Is all in a     barren, barrenly perish:

look, whom I love! The mood made     them for a masque they would be now under your coat that euer     here did raigne, Lord Bacon’s

bride her though engaged with blinded     eyesight poring over miss’d her, the task. Tis eight long, the     modest, took him, take much

half an hour alone, puffed pursued,     a woman is the boughs along; the very side; there was     a wave that loveth thee,

thy sacred with the corporal’s     duty to attending me, and aye she stands, side-faced; and     Phyllis is something new

comers, knew not what was over,     this head, with the casement shews, his glimmering their     several worth could yet mad

Mars so tame, the crimson stain that     she would it now a luggage boy but so. Thou placer of     peace or happier St.

[elstevo]

Pussyfootin' - A Dixon & Dong Joint

On some level, Slippy heard the bad hombre leave–his footsteps crossing the linoleum floor above, the front door closing, the roar of his engine then trailing into the distance–but his attention really centred on the hyena. The beast strained against its chain and snapped its teeth. Foam flecked its jaws. The muscles in its neck flexed like orgy bedsprings. Again and again it leapt up towards Slippy. Again and again the chain around its neck held it back. Again and again the bolt holding the chain to the cinder block wall wobbled dangerously.

A mad, rabid-like look buzzed in the animal’s eyes, and its fur was matted with scabs. Slippy didn’t know if hyenas got mange or what, but this one sure looked mangy. It figured, he thought, that of all the animals he could be chained up with in a basement, it’d be a diseased hyena. That was just his luck. Slippy reminded himself to assess his situation more properly. As distracting as the animal was, watching it would only let him follow its progress in pulling the chain from the wall.

The basement took up a lot of the house’s footprint, a good dozen or so square yards, and the walls were bare cinder block with a cement floor. The hyena was chained to the opposite wall, for the time being, close to the door. Apart from a drain in the floor, the space was empty. Slippy dangled by his handcuffs from a pipe running along the roof of the basement, under the floorboards. His toes touched the floor, but his wrists still hurt where the cuffs bit. He had no shirt or shoes, just his shorts, and the pockets had been turned out, not that they were big enough to hold anything anyway.

“All right, Dude-dini, what’s the plan?” he mused aloud.

The hyena paused to laugh before lunging forward again. Slippy saw the bolt loosen by another terrifying fraction of an inch.

“Aw, shut your yap.”

He looked about the space again—quickly but not frantically, he told himself. The situation reminded him of some riddle. How do you escape a hyena with just cut-off jeans, handcuffs, and a length of chain?

The handcuffs.

Slippy looked up at his wrists. A lot of his professional life involved handcuffs in some capacity or another, and Slippy Dixon took pride in his work. He looked closer at the manacles holding him to the pipe. They were Fulminos, he was certain, the Ladrinos series, probably second or third generation. Slippy knew them from his youthful summers filming scappatelle di fuq along the Adriatic coast.

Using the firm muscles of his bulging arms and trim core, Slippy pulled himself up and planted his feet on the ceiling astride the pipe. The trick to slipping Fulmino Ladrinos was as easy as tying shoes, but the actor hadn’t yet learned to tie his shoes over his head. He fumbled with the shackles. The yapping, leaping, snapping hyena did a number on his nerves, and he was glistening heavily. The sweat made his fingers slip against the steel cuffs. He glanced over at the animal. The bolt on the chain dangled flaccid in its hole in the wall. How long was its shaft? Slippy didn’t feel he could adequately gauge such things.

Slippy closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He centred his mind and took control of the only thing in the situation that he really could—his own damn self. Slippy could do that better than anyone he knew, except Ethel Humongous and maybe old Kenny. No fluffer for the Slip, world-famous master of his own anatomy and climactic timing. With a pop of the thumb, Slippy’s right hand slid free of the handcuffs. He managed to land on his feet, bending deeply at the knees.

The hyena didn’t like that. It lunged with renewed vigour, and the bolt gave up its hold, coming loose with a spurt of white powder. As the animal moved through the air, saliva flying in thick ropes, Slippy guestimated some before he pushed up from his deep crouch. He sprang up hard, spinning clockwise and extended his right leg as he came full-circle. His foot caught the hyena just behind the jaw, below the outer ear. Slippy was no veterinarian, but he’d guessed where the beast’s inner ear might be and tried to hit as hard as he could with the roundhouse kick.

Slippy’s guess was good. The hyena flew past him and slid into a heap in the corner. It tried to rise, but the kick had rung its bell, and it reeled dizzily. Slippy didn’t waste any time. He dashed for the door, threw it open, and bolted up the basement stairs two at a time, up into the kitchen. He slammed the door behind him and wedged a dining room chair under the handle. It would hold the hyena, he figured, until he could call animal control and give them a day to remember.

As he burst out the front door onto the street, he saw Kenny Dong’s truck skidding to a halt outside. Slippy didn’t stop moving. He crossed the lawn and threw himself through the open passenger window. Both men laughed in their deep relief. Kenny punched the gas, and the truck was away.

“How’d you find me?” asked Slippy.

“We got the address out of Gorman,” said Kenny. “What happened?”

Slippy gave him a quick run-down of the previous thirty-six hours. He tactfully skipped his rookie mistake with the decoy and played up the hyena encounter.

“Yeah, that’s life sometimes,” said Kenny when he’d finished, “just a hyena in a basement.”