#anti pull dog lead

[poshpull2]

Mastering the Walk: How a Dog Lead That Stops Pulling Transforms Your Strolls

Is it true that you are fed up with being hauled around like a ragdoll each time you take your fuzzy companion for a walk? The battle is genuine for the majority canine proprietors. In any case, dread not! There's a basic arrangement that can divert your strolls from turbulent to quiet: dog lead that stops pulling.

Strolling your canine ought to be a pleasurable encounter for both you and your canine friend. Nonetheless, when your canine continually pulls on the rope, it can immediately become baffling and, surprisingly, risky. In addition to the fact that pulling makes the walk less agreeable, yet it can likewise prompt wounds for both you and your canine.

All in all, what precisely is a dog lead that stops pulling, and how can it work? These creative leads are planned with highlights that put pulling conduct in canines down. One famous plan incorporates a unique component that applies delicate tension when your canine pulls too hard, reassuring them to stroll close to you as opposed to moving forward.

However, it's not just about forestalling pulling; it's additionally about showing your canine appropriate chain habits. With a pulling hindrance lead, steady preparation, and encouraging feedback, you can assist your canine with figuring out how to walk pleasantly close by without consistent pulling.

The advantages of utilizing a dog lead that stops pulling stretch out past more straightforward strolls. By training your canine to walk smoothly on a chain, you're likewise encouraging better correspondence and reinforcing your bond. Furthermore, you'll both be more secure while strolling in occupied regions or close to traffic.

Picking the right dog lead that stops pulling is fundamental for progress. Search for a lead that is agreeable for both you and your canine and is movable to accommodate your canine's size and strolling style. It's likewise really smart to select a lead produced using sturdy materials that can endure normal use.

Patience is essential when introducing a new pulling deterrent lead to your dog. Begin by involving it during short strolls in low-interruption conditions, progressively expanding the length and trouble as your canine turns out to be more acquainted with it. Furthermore, remember to remunerate acceptable conduct with acclaim and treats to support the ideal strolling habits.

While a dog lead that stops pulling can be a distinct advantage for the majority canine proprietors, recalling that it's anything but an enchanted fix is fundamental. Consistency, tolerance, and encouraging feedback are pivotal parts of fruitful rope preparing. With time and devotion, you and your shaggy companion can partake in calm walks together.

All in all, assuming that you're worn out on being hauled down the road by your excited little guy, now is the right time to put resources into a dog lead that stops pulling. Not exclusively will it make your strolls more charming, however it will likewise assist you and your canine with remaining protected while all over town. In this way, get your new chain, hit the asphalt, and prepare to dominate the walk!

[2poshpull]

Dominating the Walk: The Anti-Pull Dog Lead Insurgency

Strolling your fuzzy friend ought to be a cheerful encounter, a period for holding and investigation. However, for the overwhelming majority canine proprietors, it can feel more like a back-and-forth than a comfortable walk. Enter the anti-pull dog lead, a unique advantage in the realm of canine embellishments. Express farewell to stressed bears and baffled pulls, and express welcome to peaceful strolls with your four-legged companion.

The conventional chain has for quite some time been the go-to instrument for canine proprietors, however its plan frequently fuels the issue of pulling. Canines normally pull against the chain, prompting uneasiness for both pet and proprietor. Be that as it may, the anti-pull dog lead deals with an alternate standard out and out. By utilizing imaginative plan includes and delicate preparation techniques, these leads urge canines to walk tranquilly next to their proprietors, instead of moving forward at max throttle.

All in all, what separates the anti-pull dog lead from its traditional partner? First and foremost, a significant number of these leads highlight a front-cut connection point, which diverts your canine's consideration back towards you when they attempt to pull. This basic yet compelling instrument urges canines to stroll close by, instead of pulling ahead. Furthermore, hostile to pull leads frequently use cushioned lashes and ergonomic handles, guaranteeing most extreme solace for both you and your fuzzy companion during strolls of any length.

However, maybe the main advantage of the anti-pull dog lead is its encouraging feedback way to deal with preparing. Instead of depending on cruel adjustments or corrective measures, these leads utilize delicate direction and compensations to energize appropriate conduct. By reliably compensating your canine for strolling serenely next to you, you'll before long find that pulling turns into a relic of days gone by.

Obviously, no instrument is an enchanted fix for all conduct issues, and consistency is key with regards to preparing. It's vital for pair the utilization of an enemy of pull lead with other preparation methods, like encouraging feedback and consistency in orders. After some time, you'll find that your canine's way of behaving further develops on strolls as well as in all parts of their life.

For the majority canine proprietors, the anti-pull dog lead has been a distinct advantage, changing unpleasant strolls into charming trips with their shaggy friends. By putting resources into the right instruments and taking a positive, reward-based way to deal with preparing, you can cultivate a more profound bond with your canine and make an agreeable strolling experience for both of you.

All in all, the anti-pull dog lead addresses an upset in canine frill, offering a delicate yet successful answer for the issue of pulling. With its imaginative plan highlights and encouraging feedback approach, this device has the ability to change your strolls from a battle into a blissful holding experience. All in all, why stand by? Venture out towards calm walks around your little guy today.

[creantzy]

Defying God - a parallel between Fyolai and Stavrovensky

The Demons brainrot is taking over, and you know what happens when I acquire a new interest: my brain WILL find a way to connect it to my other interests, whether I like it or not!! And this is essentially what it's about xD I've come here to present a parallel I found between Fyolai (Fyodor & Nikolai from BSD) and Stavrovensky (Verkhovensky & Stavrogin from "Demons" by Dostoevsky). Before I start I want to clarify a few things:

• I don't think these two pairings are similar, I just love picking up any crumbs of connections I can find between my interests, even if it'd count as reaching.

• This interpretation (in either character's case) is in no way "the only true way of looking at it". It's merely one interpretation out of many and I chose to focus on just a few aspects out of the many others there are to explore in these complex characters. 

• Feel free to add onto or disagree with anything I say! I'm interested in your thoughts :D

WARNING: There will be spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs and Demons.

The reason Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor is because he feels affection for him. Emotions are a prison to him, and he basically seeks the opposite of what his emotions make him want to do. Thus, in the face of affection, which makes you want to be closer and wish the best for your friend, he does the opposite and decides to kill said friend, going directly against his feelings in an attempt to prove free will. But here I want to focus more on the "You want to defy God in order to lose sight of yourself" part, specifically the bit about God.

One part of my interpretation is that Nikolai associates God with control. If there is a God who controls all, how can there be a free will? He wants to go against Him and His creations (the human mind, morality, etc.) to prove that it's possible. But God is very abstract - the idea of God is influential but varies depending on cultures, etc. For this point, I'll use the example of the biblical God, or, more specifically, some attributes commonly assigned to the idea of God:

• omnipotence (all-powerful)

• omnipresence (all-present)

• omniscience (all-knowing)

What I am leading up to is the fact that these traits can, in one way or another, be applied to Fyodor. Fyodor's character represents everything Nikolai wants to defy. Nikolai hates control; he wants to fight the idea of God and prove the possibility of complete independence. Fyodor (though not in a "direct" way) could be seen as a symbol for God. He knows everything, he is always present (metaphorically and sometimes literally, the way he spawns sometimes I swear-), and he seems to control everything. Only few people actually see him, but he pulls the strings behind the scenes, and his power is felt everywhere. For Nikolai, to kill Fyodor is not just a protest against his feelings of affection, but can also be a symbolic act of defying "God", of killing "God", by killing Fyodor.

This is supposed to be very symbolic and not taken literally. I feel the need to repeat this because I personally dislike the notion of Fyodor as a literal God (and disagree with the idea of him having a God-complex), so this is merely about the God-like traits he possesses, like a "substitute" for the idea of God, and how it interacts with Nikolai's philosophy. (I've also exaggerated some points for the sake of simplification - for example, I don't actually believe Fyodor is in control of absolutely everything, etc.)

Moving onto Demons:

Pyotr Verkhovensky grew up religious and (assuming based on Stepan's description) with a fear of God.

Now he's an atheist and very anti-religious. He plans to overthrow society, and destroying religion + everything it preaches is part of that plan. But interestingly enough, he picks not himself as the official future "ruler", but someone else: Nikolai Stavrogin. He chooses Stavrogin to be the role of the leader in Verkhovensky's ideal society. But not exactly the "leader" in the traditional sense, because he wouldn't necessarily give Stavrogin all the power. He would simply use him as a "pawn" (for lack of a better word) while himself pulling the strings behind said society. With that, Verkhovensky puts someone else above himself, in a God-like position, but he wants to do it while still keeping full control over Stavrogin. By doing so, he would overcome his childhood fear of God because instead of being controlled by God, *he* will control God.

(Same case here, not the literal God, but the character who he assigns God-like traits to.)

I am undecided (with both Nikolai's and Verkhovensky's character) whether this could be read as a solely subconscious intention or if it would make sense as a conscious one as well. Given that both have a different "main" goal (Nikolai focuses on emotions and Verkhovensky on the revolution) I lean more towards thinking it's subconscious (if present at all - like I said, just interpretations!)

It doesn't help that Verkhovensky describes his vision of Stavrogin's leadership as "hidden": Everyone believes in him and his power, but only very few people are said to actually have laid their eyes upon him. When I first read this part, I was honestly reminded of Big Brother from Orwell's 1984, but eventually realised that similar things can be said about God as well.

While these are parallels, they don't come without differences. Nikolai needs Fyodor dead, Verkhovensky needs Stavrogin alive. Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor for a sense of freedom, Verkhovensky wants to keep Stavrogin for a sense of control. Yet both symbolic goals are bound to fail:

Fyodor turns out to be unkillable, and Stavrogin ends up dead.

At the end, "God" stays untouchable.

[edgeray]

Arlecchino is not a person.

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb) Content Warning: Death

There are many things that others have considered her. She is privvy to many labels that whispered voices have called her. Besides her obvious titles, she is called a dog of the Tsaritsa, a bloodthirsty monster, a demented psychopath, a weapon of bloodshed. Rarely is anything but her deadliness, cunningness, or madness--her ability to act as a loyal tool for her archon--ever considered. They are not wrong, she doesn't deny that much of her actions and purpose only lead to utter chaos or massacre. That's all she is to most nearly everyone, with the exclusion you, of course.

You never see her as such. You do not take her clawed hands and see them as a means to slaughter. Instead, you see them as another part of her to worship, another part of her to love, as you trace your lips over each and every knuckle, faint remnants of your love imprinted on them by the heat that wells underneath her skin from where your touch was last. And she is reminded you with that she is none of the things she is purposed to do, according to the Tsaritsa. With these hands, she can do more than just the service of her archon. With these hands, she can love you, hold you, revere you, the same way you do to her.

She is more than just a weapon in your eyes. In your eyes, you behold her as a lover--nothing more, nothing less. To you, she is simply the chanted name you sob into the clung sheets, or the name she signs under 'Your Love' in every letter sent to you. She is just Arlecchino, no Knave, Harbinger, or even the connection of the House of the Hearth to it. She is the one you wait for to arrive home and the one that bids her farewell when she leaves. The one you wrap your arms around, pulling her closer to soothe and comfort. The one you love so deeply and unfalteringly, no matter what she's done.

To everyone else, she is a tool.

To you, she is special. She is loved. Loved like a person with vulnerabilities and fears, with compassion and joy, loved like a human. And it is something so normal compared to the rest of her life that makes her wants to clutch this love to her chest forever, never wanting to let go.

To see her as anything but a machine wired for carnage is the only thing she asks of you.

Do you still love her as such? When her hands are dyed with your blood? When you cling onto her form, in the desperate animalistc way one would, begging to hold onto life for just a little longer? Do you still love her, when her claws are buried into your chest ripping out the heart that beats for her? Is it your profession of love to her that you're muttering with your remaining strength? Do you still love her, despite the tears running down your face?

Oh... what has she done?

Your chest has stopped rising and falling by the time the rush fades, her rationality and senses coming back to you. She doesn't know what has triggered it, but it is too late, because her beloved is gone, killed by the very hands you love to hold.

How foolish Arlecchino was, to be fooled into believing she was nothing but a mere person. How she was fooled into believing your love for her. How she was fooled into believing she was anything but a monster. She knows better now, regrettably, bitterly.

She wishes she never allowed you to convince her otherwise.

Arlecchino is not a person, and has never been. Only people deserve to be loved and in that moment that you died, she is no longer special, no longer loved, and no longer human.

---

A/N: How this series started is how this series ends.

This is the final part of my blurb series. If you guys thought that the finale for this was gonna be fluff. Sorry not sorry :).

Why did I decide to have Arlecchino kill Reader? 🤷‍♀️. I wanted the final blurb to be like anti-thesis to all the other titles (with the titles being "Arlecchino is a ___ person" and with this one being "Arlecchino is not a person.") I know I wanted to have this title but I didn't know how else to implement it besides this way.

If this is not to my usual quality of writing, sorry. I wrote this at 2 AM, even though this won't be posted until 10AM.

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Favorite Qsmp Moments By Yours Truly

Reblogged this post about my Top 3, and felt compelled to put down all the moments I remember the most fondly (which is a lot so good luck getting through the whole post, if you make it to end you get the eggs back on the server)

#Lore

Pretty much the entire Happy Pills arc (Philza seeing the fake room and fake Richas, the lead up to Forever pulling a gun on him, Cellbit and Forever's argument, Forever hysterically sobbing while talking to fake Richas, the reveal that Forever destroyed the entire goddamn server and forced the Fed to do a server rollback, the Curing, the calm afterwards)

Pac being walked back to Chume Labs by Cellbit after being cured, them having their heart to heart, Cellbit recognizing his struggle and telling him he saved himself and Forever, that he was a hero, and Pac quietly recovering in his first moment of peace since it all started.

The hospital visits when Forever was comatose. Philza, Bad and Cellbit's visits are the ones people talk about the most for the serious parts but Fit also visited and opened up a surprising amount, I feel like it said a lot about his character that he opened up to a man in a coma, desperate to get his words off his chest, but not trusting enough to tell someone who would remember them the next day

Bad getting really pissed at the Federation for the first time and lassoing Cucurucho to "walk him like a dog" (you could feel the anti-Federation sentiment really solidify in this moment, before it was more so Cellbit's personal vendetta but this became one of the moments that made it a server-wide stance)

Vegetta and later Foolish fighting off the Codes who were trying to kill Leo (the absolute stress from Foolish's fight when he kept shouting at Leo to warp out and her not doing it was unreal)

Tallulah's first death, how hard Fit, Forever and their eggs fought to protect her, and how absolutely furious Philza was

Pretty much every Forever and Cucurucho interaction post-Happy Pills; their dynamic was never the same after that, and you can see how tense Forever is every time he's alone with Cucurucho

Charlie's rampage after Flippa died the first time (pre-trial); he's too good at voice acting cause holy shit

Maxo's "King of the Codes" dream after his leg got infected

Quackity coming back after El Quackity vanished and being himself yet completely different (not remembering anyone, only speaking spanish, not being able to read or write), and Maxo and Roier sticking by him trying to press for answers while Q just wanted to build his house

Etoiles getting hyped for his big final fight with the Codes, and the excitement immediately being sapped out of him when he sees Pomme in the cage

The first time we saw a Federation worker other than Cucurucho (Cellbit was the first to see one I believe)

Tubbo's "Fire won't break it. TNT won't break it. I will." speech after Quackity abducted Fred

Funnies/Generally Cool

The Gordinho Gostozinho highlights (from funny ones like the Foolish and Austin kiss to lore like the ambush on El Quackity)

Foolish roleplaying being very fucking drunk in the club after the spiderbit wedding (him being like "you want a shot? I'll give you a fucking shot" and pulling out a gun and shooting Charlie was so goddamn funny, second time he shot Charlie that night); he was wildly good at roleplaying a drunk person and after the Brazil meetup where we learned he's apparently a tank when it comes to drinking I'm starting to see where it comes from lmao

Maxo waking up in Pierre's bed with his moan remix playing after he died during a serious lore moment, and his face of absolute defeat and bitter resentment actually had me struggling to breath from how hard I was laughing (also Baghera hysterically laughing at the clip and showing it to people)

Polis singing My Heart Will Go On with his very crunchy microphone to Cellbit (and Cell losing his shit)

Vegetta starting to suck off Foolish in the middle of a theater full of people the first fucking day the French were on the server, and the ensuing shouting from everyone angrily trying to stop them

SASUKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Debate moderator Fit during the election arc (+him reading out Gegg's speeches, as well as just Gegg's speeches in general)

Lawyer Jaiden/Bad/Quackity/Roier being genuinely really good at acting as lawyers (and lawyer Fit offering to bribe and then murder the judge if the trial didn't go their way. Also the trial derailing into exposing Foolish for his love life with Mariana for some reason)

All the victims of Eh Vegetta

The emotional rollercoaster that is the Frubbo arc, Tubbo's thirst tweets included

Felps

The first time the admins did a roundup of everyone's early-game builds and they kept showing Mariana's base with the negative buzzer sound, each time of which made Mariana more angry until he was just swearing in spanish

Mousey's first experiences in Lucky Ducks, and the pinpointable moments that led to her totally not gambling addiction

Abueloier (specifically his first interaction with Quackity cause of how good Roier is at making Q laugh with horny humor + the moment when Abueloier said he had been fighting with Roier for 20 years and Cellbit asked "how did you fight with a baby" and them cracking up cause Roier hadn't thought that part through)

Baghera being consistently bad at predicting mines for the sake of avoiding them

Fit killing Tubbo with the potato gun after he started strip teasing on Pac

That clip of Missa jumping off the wall to hit a bucket clutch, miscalculating and hitting part of the wall, falling further, hitting part of the wall again and getting downed on it, falling while downed, and finally hitting the ground where he was unable to clutch because he was downed, and immediately dying

Every moment where Tina is unhinged (her raging at Bad when he's being a nuisance, her being down horrendous for Bagi, etc)

Charlie talking about his dead daughter and Foolish interrupting him to ask if he lactates (Charlie doesn't usually hesitate with responses cause of how quick witted he is but he had to fully pause after that one)

Spreen teaching Fit how to do a line being his most meaningful contribution to their marriage

Felps Square, and the rise of Squole (Felps Square x Tubhole)

The Jaidens (and how hilariously shit they were at being stealthy)

The French Beast aka Etoiles various adventures destroying the Codes and typing his win streak in chat after every fight

Philza getting to really know Tazercraft during Tallulah's birthday party (seriously watch the clips Mike is fucking hilarious)

The post-lore hangout (might've been the election dinner?) where Foolish, Mouse, Tina, and Felps went dungeoning together; I got to learn more about Mouse, and the chemistry the Foolish/Tina/Mouse group had with Felps was really fun

Rivers being awkward as fuck around other people that aren't Roier

The entire trial of Juanaflippa, including Charlie and Mariana being in holding and breaking out

Antoine's "because he's a fucking troll" about Pierre

The moment when Kameto logged on

Forever calling Bad "sir" (if yk yk)

Fit complaining to Philza and co. about Spreen being a "fucking asshole husband who went out for cigarettes"

Vegetta and Roier debuting as strippers and Quackity's reaction (+Vegetta getting stuck in the wall)

Flippa's turtle falling off a ledge and killing itself right in front of Charlie and Mariana's sex roleplay

Mine Roulette with Antoine, Bad, Baghera, Pomme and Foolish (that evening was such a vibe and it was my first time watching from Antoine's stream)

Etoiles saying that Pierre is married and has kids but all he can think about is being depressed over the admins nerfing Create after Tubbo kept breaking things

Ramón being mad at Fit for keeping secrets from him and saying "talk to my shell" before carrying on with his redstone

The pinpointable moments where Tallulah gets more sassy and confident until she's unironically putting "serve cunt" in her signs

Bad trying to get info from Cucurucho, being told by Dapper and Ramón not to flirt, and immediately slipping up with the "you come here often"

Missa singing When You're Gone during his dog funeral (I know this sounds sad but it was really fucking funny, Missa's language vocabulary is 70% incompressible whimpering)

Fit losing his absolute mind after Cucuruchito started heavy flirting with him out of no where

Vegetta's mines and all the carnage they have caused (you could make a whole comp from just the French's arrival)

That era where Tazercraft where abusing create mod and breaking Federation shit near on the daily (the poor admins lmao)

Forever and Bad exploring the Federation construction site and Forever making Cucurucho drink his pee before being shot at for making Cucurucho drink his pee

And of course, all of the lovely Qsmp songs/memes (Vivo Turbo ad, Pac e Mike wow wow, Eh Vegetta, Maxo moan remix, Pomme Pomme Dapper Dapper remix, Quackity paga el servidor, honorary French member Bebou, meus pais/minhas mães, the inactive members being referenced to this day, Amiga...)

[clockwayswrites]

Shadow of a Bat Ch. 3 Snippet

WC: 915 CW: Vivisection, Implied/Referenced Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Off Screen Character Death, GIW, Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton Danny Fenton, Panic Attacks

Their little shadow was showing themselves more. Dick’s nickname seemed to have stuck with the family occasionally actively addressing the entity by some variation of ‘little shadow’ in various languages. They still didn’t know the exact identity of the being, but Bruce had his suspicions.

Trusting his gut was something that was always hard for Bruce, what with his need to know. He would rather trust research and facts. But right then his gut was telling him that their little shadow was the boy who had been coldly labeled as the entity FBA-P_01. The boy who had bled red like a human when the scientists cut into him before it ran green. But Bruce also knew that he couldn’t be objective, not when the boy had looked so much like Jason had laid out on the autopsy table.

The Justice League had been working their way through more of the encryption on the files and making their own database from the information. FBA: full body apparition. It was a title for the ghosts who took on a humanoid form that could be fully interacted with. The GIW considered these the most important test subjects. Unlike the A-E classes, which had multiple files, the P was a classification had only been used twice. Once for the boy and once for a FBA-P_02, who was listed as ‘unsuitable for long term study’ and marked as terminated. ‘Phantom’ had come up in once in a file connected to FBA-P_01, leading them to believe that was was the origin of the P marker. Reports from Amity Park— the city that had brought the Anti-Ecto Acts to light— cited Phantom as their town’s hero.

The boy had been a vigilante. Another black haired, blue eyed teen hero that had died; that might have stayed dead.

Bruce pushed himself away from the computer after locking it down. He knew he needed to brief his children on the information the Justice League was finding— they had a right to know what with the little shadow becoming part of their home— but Bruce didn’t know how to broach it. He wanted a few more answers first, a few more certainties.

Besides, the children had been doing so well at making them feel more at home. Now that they were showing themselves more, made it easier to try and meet their needs. Bruce was sure that when he made it upstairs for lunch there would be a place at the table set for their newest member also.

It was never a full plate, but Alfred had started being sure to set out a little bit of what the family was having for the little shadow. It had started with Jason and the other children slipping bits under the table, but Alfred soon declared that unacceptable behavior— their shadow was not a dog— and so a place at the table with a small plate had been set. The food only ever disappeared when no one was looking, but it seemed to be enjoyed if the noises the shadow made was an indication.

Sure enough, there was an empty plate other than Bruce’s. It was a rather full table for a weekend lunch— Damian, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Dick were all gathered. Another thing that the little shadow had brought Bruce: more time with his children.

-

Phantom watched the family at the meal. Watched Bruce (not Batman, the man tried so hard be Bruce around his children) ask Dick (golden and smiling) about his day. Watched Tim and Cass fight (play fighting, not real) over the last piece of garlic bread on the serving plate.

He had a little piece of garlic bread too. He waited, carefully, until no one was looking to pull it down under the edge of the table. Oh, it was good. Of course it was, everything that Alfred made was good, but this was very good. This was almost cookie level good. Phantom trilled happily at the taste. When he peered back over the edge of the table, there was another piece on his small plate!

Phantom looked up. Duke was smiling down at him.

Phantom shrunk back. He didn’t mean to. He knew (part of him knew) that the plate was for him and so the others must know he was there, but he still felt so seen when one of them looked at where he was. Being seen was dangerous.

Being seen meant tests and blades and being cut cut cut.

The sound of the table quieted suddenly.

Oh, he must have made a noise.

“I do hope the silence is due to everyone simply being too busy eating,” Alfred said as he swept into the room, breaking the tension of the moment. “Though heavens knows that a full mouth has never kept any of you from talking.”

“I would never,” Damian said with a haughty sniff.

Conversation surged again, picking back up as people defended themselves or called others out. Without looking, attention seemingly on the new argument, Duke nudged the plate towards Phantom. Phantom… not breathed, he didn’t need to breath, but he… relaxed, like all the air had gone out of lungs he didn’t have in a sudden relieved whoosh.

He was safe here. He was safe with Batman Bruce. He was safe with Bruce’s family. He knew that, he knew that, he knew that.

Sometimes, still, the fear choked at him; made him feel like he couldn’t breath.

(He wondered what it was like to breath.)

(He used to breath, he thought.)

-----

AN: Getting back into writing both Bruce and this version of Phantom has been a task! But I think it's getting there. Our poor little shadow...

First two chapters are up on ao3 here:

I hope to have this chapter done and up in a week or two! As always, sorry for any typos in this first draft version, I'm suffering from the after effects of a sensory induced migraine still and my vision is a bit doubled. This is why I beg Moku to beta things for me lol

[mymoonagedaydream]

Part 12

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout

Author's Note: Final part! Much love!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11

---

It was gone midnight by the time you and Bucky, both nursing second trimester food babies, spilled out of the restaurant and began to stumble in the vague direction of home. The evening air was chilly but his jacket was wrapped around your shoulders before you’d even begun to feel it. Your hand slotted smoothly into his, a movement that was second nature to you now.

The two of you walked for ten or so minutes when, at an otherwise pretty unremarkable corner, a bolt of inspiration struck you. It was the street name that did it, Cross Street. You remembered seeing it as a child and wondering if this was where your local church and your mother bought all their little wooden crucifixes from. You suddenly knew exactly where you were.

Bucky was heading in one direction but you stopped and tugged him in the other. “We should go this way.”

“Huh? You wanna go the wrong way? How much wine you had?”

“It’s not the wrong way,” he was pulling back against you now, feet firmly planted in place, “it’s just a different, slightly longer way.”

“Longer?

“But worth it.”

“How?"

“I think, uh- I mean, I’m pretty sure there’s a river around here somewhere.” He raised a dubious eyebrow. “Well, eighty percent sure.”

"I'm eighty-five percent sure you're bullshitting me."

"I swear to god I'm not."

"Swear to any imaginary asshole you like. I'm not buying it, sweetheart."

Strong physical resistance was attempted for a few more seconds but, eventually, your very best puppy dog eyes melted him.

“Fine, but if you fall in I’m not coming after you.”

“Deal.”

He gave you a wide smile and snaked an arm around your waist, letting you lead him down the side street. A comfortable silence fell as you turned corner after corner, your face contorting into a smug smile once the water came into view. He just shrugged. The two of you strolled onto a low, stone bridge and watched the ripples distorting the reflections of lit-up apartment windows and orange streetlights. It was gloriously peaceful.

After a minute or so, Bucky turned to carry on walking, but you stayed in place and pulled him back. He stood opposite you, looking a little confused as you took both his hands in yours.

“Buck, what you said earlier, I really think we should talk about it.”

“Nah, it’s alright, it was in the past. Like you said, it's over now and that’s all that matters.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean-” You rubbed your forehead. Christ he was slippery, using your own words against you like that. “That’s not what I meant. If something’s still affecting you, it matters, and it’s good to talk about it.”

He bit at the inside of his cheek and turned his head to stare at the water, eyes combing over the waves. You let him simmer for a little while before bringing your hands up to his face and gently turning it back towards you, raising your eyebrows expectantly. The cold air was whipping harshly off the water and into you but his face was warm and flushed. When he spoke, you could see him carefully considering every word.

“If I keep talking, I might say something that drives you away, and I don’t know if I could take that.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Right, but what if-”

“Buck, I promise there is very, very little that could convince me you’re not a good person, alright? I really don’t care about your past.” You stopped abruptly and frowned at yourself. “That came out wrong.”

He let out a small chuckle. “First you want me to talk about it, now you tell me to shut up?”

“You know what I meant.”

“Mhmm,” he pulled you closer, letting your arms curl around his neck, “I know, baby. I know I can talk to you anytime, you got no idea how much I appreciate that, but if you wanna talk now I'll tell you anything you wanna know. Just ask."

You considered. There definitely had been a few small things you were curious about, the odd interest piquing comment here and there, but for some reason you found yourself completely blanking at his offer. You suddenly realised that you didn't want to know anything. You didn't need to. Maybe just the fact that he was willing to talk was enough.

"Are you happy?"

He chuckled. "Very."

"Then so am I."

"Good."

He shot you a wink, making you giggle like a schoolgirl. You cupped your fingers around his face and brushed your thumbs across his cheeks. The hint of wine on his breath was sweet and warm. Feeling his hands pressed against your back, staring into his still blue eyes, something inside you burst or erupted or… Christ, you weren’t sure, but next thing you knew your mouth was writing a check that you weren’t sure he was ready to cash.

“I love you, Buck.” His face dropped. Fuck it, you were all in now, might as well carry on. “Completely. Like, get a dog together type love. Put up with you stealing the fucking covers all night type love. I’d even go as far as to say-”

He swiftly cut you off by enclosing your half-open, babbling mouth in his, arms squeezing your waist tight. You relaxed completely into him, not sure that you’d be able to stay on your feet if he suddenly let go but too caught up in the moment to care. He pulled away an inch, just for just a second, to whisper.

“I love you too. Just stop talking.”

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, by the river. It was becoming increasingly easy to lose time while you were tangled up with Bucky. The rest of the walk home was a hazy, fragmented mess of staggering for a few minutes before getting distracted and clumsily fumbling at each other. You found yourselves regretting taking the long way, both of you becoming more and more impatient to get back to the privacy of the apartment, and not making it past the floor just inside the door when you did.

But, hey, at least neither of you ended up in the river.

—

You’d found it. The perfect apartment.

It looked small, cramped even, but would be more than enough for just the two of you- neither of you owned any furniture anyway. The beach was only a couple minutes walk away and, with it being a fifth floor apartment, the front window had a beautiful view of the ocean. It even had underground parking, meaning his majesty wouldn’t have to rush to the window to check on his bike every ten minutes. The more you read about it, the more convinced you became that it was meant for you.

Bucky was out at the store when you came across it and you couldn’t stop yourself pacing around excitedly until he got back. You kept refreshing the page, convinced that someone else would snap it up while he was out impulse-buying candy. You practically jumped him as soon as he came through the door, dragging him over to your laptop and squealing excitedly.

After a quick flick through the pictures, he dug his hand into his back pocket.

“It’s ours. What’s the number?”

“I mean, we should probably go see it first, right?”

“Nah. How bad could it be?”

You nodded slowly and wandered your gaze around his flat, lingering on the carpet stains and the patch of mould in the corner. Yep, things were starting to make a little more sense.

He waggled his phone at you. “What’s the hold up?”

Mild pangs of anxiety sparked in your stomach, committing to something this big without properly researching could turn out incredibly badly. The place could be unfinished or falling apart or infested with flesh-eating cockroaches.

Or, you thought, just maybe, it could turn out to be perfect.

A warm smile spread across your face. Maybe it was time to take a page out of his book, stop thinking so much, close your eyes and jump. He smiled back. You gave him the number.

Bucky pressed his lips into your forehead before making the call, the fingers on his left hand tapping excitedly against the table as he made notes with his right. The two of you then spent the next three hours gathering and sending off all of the information and credentials they’d requested.

And then you waited.

And waited.

All evening, checking Bucky’s phone every ten minutes. It was like torture. Nothing had come through by midnight, so the two of you gave up and slunk off to bed, outwardly trying to stay optimistic about finding somewhere else but inwardly pretty disheartened. You’d just have to keep searching.

—

You were woken the next day by the smell of cooking bacon and the sound of Bucky humming to himself in the kitchen. Stretching yourself across the deserted bed, you yawned dramatically and rubbed your eyes, debating how easy it would be to get him to abandon breakfast and curl back up with you. Very easy, probably.

Your hand found your phone on the bedside table and you yanked it from the charger, your head darting up from the pillow in shock when you saw that it was creeping up to midday. How the hell had you managed to sleep for almost twelve hours? Yesterday’s emotional roller coaster must have wiped you out.

Pulling your pyjamas on, you trudged through to the front room and saw Bucky standing over the stove, wiggling his hips along to the jaunty tune he was improvising.

“G’morning.” You walked up beside him, settling into his side as he snaked an arm around you, gazing at the pile of food he was pushing around the pan. “Looks good.”

“Mhmm, this is a real breakfast. I thought we’d celebrate.”

You nodded sleepily, a little confused. “Celebrate what?”

He looked down at you, sporting a wide, knowing smile. Your drowsiness slowly melted away as you realised what he was talking about.

“We got it?”

“We got it.”

Something you could only describe as a kind of throaty yelp noise escaped your mouth, which made Bucky burst out laughing. You threw your arms around his neck, squeezing him as hard as you could, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. A thousand thoughts began racing through your mind but the biggest, brightest one was that you’d finally get some peace. That’s all you really wanted.

When you finally let go of him, he dug his phone out of his pocket and showed you the email from the landlord. Your eyes widened as they scanned through it.

“Wait, this says we move in at the start of next month?”

“Yup.” He nodded proudly.

“Buck, that’s two days from now.”

“Mhmm. We better get packing.”

As it turned out, he’d already hired a van to arrive the next day and picked up a stack of packing boxes while he was out buying breakfast food, all of which he’d hidden behind the couch so they wouldn’t ruin his dramatic reveal. You had no idea who this guy was and what he’d done with Bucky, but you weren’t complaining.

Finally, it felt like things were falling into place.

—

The journey to your new home was about an hour. You had hoped the ride would be relaxing, a chance for catharsis and decompression, but you spent almost the entire time white-knuckled, gripping onto the dashboard. Bucky drove the moving van exactly the same way he drove his motorbike, weaving in and out of traffic like an unbelievably lucky bull in a mercifully generous china shop. He didn’t even seem to notice the sound of all your possessions sliding around chaotically in the back.

When he finally parked up outside the apartment block, you reverted back to religion for the first time in years, thanking both God and the baby Jesus that you survived the drive.

You glanced out of the window. The building wasn’t particularly attractive, sitting in an unremarkable side street opposite a seedy looking off-licence, but you still felt the excitement bubbling in your stomach as you hopped out and properly surveyed your surroundings. It was pretty clean and quiet, the only movement being a young woman with a stroller briskly walking down the opposite sidewalk. A few noisy seagulls flew overhead and you noticed for the first time that you could smell the sea air, fresh and briny. Memories of your day on the beach flooded back. You could get used to that.

Bucky gave you a wide smile and walked towards the door, approaching a man in a cheap suit who you hadn’t even noticed. They talked for a minute, the keys were exchanged and the suit gave you a polite nod before turning and walking down the street. That was, you thought to yourself, quite possibly the only easy interaction you and Bucky had ever had with a third party since you’d been together. You knew life was going to be a whole lot easier after leaving that fucking town, but you certainly hadn’t expected such immediate results. This was incredible.

You grabbed a box and followed your roommate up the stairs, the two of you bursting through the door into your new home.

The first thing you noticed was the view. It was even better in person. You unceremoniously dropped whatever you were carrying and walked towards the window, seeing the vast ocean spread out in both directions as you got closer. Bucky came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.

“Whatta you think?”

“I love it.”

“Eh, it needs a bit of work,” he briefly surveyed the walls and the ceiling, “I think the last people here had dogs, there’s still some-”

You swivelled round in his arms and placed a hand firmly over his mouth, feeling a smile form against your palm. “I don’t care. I love it.”

He mumbled something. You rolled your eyes and released his face, prompting him to repeat himself.

“Me too.”

It took a couple of hours to get everything out of the van and, when you’d finally finished, you found yourselves staring at a messy pile of boxes dumped in the middle of the living room. An unspoken but unanimous decision was made that there was no point starting to unpack before having something to eat, even though you’d spent the entire drive shoving handfuls of chips into each other’s faces.

So, for the first of many times, you and Bucky watched the sunset over the sea. Sitting on cardboard boxes in your cheap flat, eating pretty terrible Chinese food, with nothing in the world but a few dollars and each other.

And it was perfect.

---

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---

[solacedeer]

@floydsteeth thank you c: Also i should prob tag @mllorei and @m-mmiy since they asked and i didn’t answer question so heres some general Info about the fun stuff___

- Born in Rhodolite, closer to the southeast, In a town almost entirely made up of farmers

- Circumstances lead to her just leaving home super young, hitching a ride with some vintners who’d only been passing though town and were headed to a farmers market.

- Ended up staying with said vintners, they put her to work tho.

- When they had to go she wanted to stay in the capital because there weren’t any big libraries a walking distance from where they were going. Found out she did NOT like being alone.

- ‘hitchhiked’ away. Ended up on a random boat. Was really bad with harpoons. Can’t swim. Still can’t.

- when she asked them to teach her to swim they said ‘No. Just don’t fall in’ so she didn’t fall in.

- Ended up migrated to Tanzanite by her late teens early twenties. Since she is extremely receptive to any and all attention praise community she naturally gravitated toward the people who dedicated their time to follow Azel around. He likes that she can strip fruit really fast.

(small note; - She does genuinely believe in Azel though, she can’t think of a reason believe a god wouldn’t want to be incarnated.)

-

— ☆

I described her as like a dog or a parrot as opposed to being cool because she isn’t cool.

I’ve drawn her on my blog in the past but she’s always with Keith so she’s always got a stupid silly blank blissed out blank happy face so random info__

- For routes i always have a first Phase where her names Dimitri and then she gets called Demelza be because I’ve done that since forever, Demelzas her real name though.

- I consider her to be an Egotist, not at the expense of anybody and in such a small scale that its probably not all that different in practice then Altruism. But its still there. Because my oc’s need to suffer under the weight of their minds a little

- She fidgets with her gloves, Pinches the skin underneath, Pulls them up against her wrists, Rolls her fingers into the fabric of them.

- Extremely sentimental, still hums Oh my Darlin’ Clementine like the Ladies would while they were working whenever she’s focused. Still likes to watch people cook. Still a little comforted by the sound of crickets from a distance. Very regimental

- Good with first aid. Knows which plants are antibacterial/anti inflammatory + works as a great bandage. Had to adapt to different materials in Tanzanite.

- Good at Playing things off, her caretakers never knew much about her because she’s good at avoiding the truth. As for lying shes got too many tells.

- Overall more of a River then a Lake. Faster moving, ebbs and flows. Extremely aware of the emotions she’s having.

-

- Demelza (last name was Aster but im considering changing it just because that goes WAY back to when I was using her as a MYSTIC MESSENGER oc so)

also heres a better edit of her face. I’d changed some parts because it made sense geometrically but did it make sense within my heart 🤔 ? no- it did not.

[pxppet]

Rings

A short thing about my Jameson and Anti, in which Anti gifts Jameson signs of his ownership.

[CW for blood, possessive relationship, abusive husband, mentions of rot and maggots]

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

Gentle whirring fills the room, deafening to him, as the machine’s needle traces bee sting lines into Jameson’s throat. He is sitting still. Patient. Still. As Anti told him to. Or else, or else. But he can’t stop the tears pricking his eyes or the slight heaving of his chest as his master works. He has his eyes closed, but he can feel Anti staring at him, eating him up and making him feel like squirming.

“Still,” Anti’s voice comes, a single word command that freezes Jameson into a statue. “We’re almost done, sweetheart. Look at me, hey.”

JJ opens his eyes, allowing a tear to escape and slide down his cheek. Anti’s thumb moves upward and brushes it away, the overgrown nails of his host body dangerously close to his eye. Jameson does not flinch. “What are you drawing?” JJ dares to question. Thankfully, Anti just smiles at him, his eyes fading from black into more human-like green ones as he regards his husband.

“It’s my mark, Bluejay.” His hand rests very lightly on the half-done circle he’s tracing around Jameson’s neck with the tattoo gun. “My blood is in it. It binds you to me.” Anti smiles, his face subtly shapeshifting with his glamor and becoming softer with healthy round cheeks, shining curly hair and a boyish smile. “Forever.”

JJ smiles at him, or tries to anyway. His lip is trembling slightly from the pain. “Thank you, Anti,” he signs, A-husband, A-knife, as his name goes.

“No need to thank me, pet,” he coos, grabbing his chin and wiggling his head back and forth. “Though I do have something for you, once we’re done.”

Jameson perks up with curiosity, but then the tattoo gun is moving back to his skin, right over his jugular, which makes him hiss air through his teeth with pain. It touches down, lifts, touches down, lifts, in a circular pattern. JJ wonders what it will be. Anti had spent quite a bit more time on the back of his neck, but JJ counts his blessings that the front is seemingly quicker.

Eventually, Anti hums with satisfaction and sets down the gun. He wipes the new markings clean, clearing the excess ink and spots of blood. “Want to see, Jay?” Jameson nods, hesitant. His hand flexes in the handcuff Anti attached to the table, just in case – even though JJ would never run. Anti holds a mirror up to him. Jameson observes a dotted line circling his entire neck that leads to a smaller circle wrapping around his adam’s apple.

“This is on the back,” Anti says, drawing a piece of paper into his view, “My symbol. My name.” His voice is soft, distant, as though his thoughts are elsewhere. The symbol is a rather complex seeming sigil that makes no sense to JJ. Anti grins at Jameson with a mouth of dog’s teeth, touching his collarbone. He touches Anti’s hand, shaking minutely. “What do we say?”

“Thank you,” JJ offers him the simple sign shyly.

“That’s a good boy. Would you like your gift now?”

JJ nods, nervousness overridden by curiosity for now. Anti reaches into the back pocket of his black jeans, fishing around with a curse. Pulling out a small black box, he turns back to him, a certain light filling his face. Jameson tries not to so obviously bask in his husband’s rare good mood. “Jameson, lover and light of mine,” he purrs, “Pet and husband. Mine.” He pulls open the box, revealing a small gold ring, a simple band with only a single small sapphire implanted into the band. Jameson feels his mouth fall open faintly, staring at it with widened eyes.

Anti’s fingers come up and tap his mouth shut, laughing. “What, did you think I’d never propose properly? Just because you were given to me already mine doesn’t mean I can’t treat you to something nice.” Anti feels his appearance shift, Henrik’s sharp face, Marvin’s full beard, Chase’s freckles and doe eyes all filled in with black, and Jameson’s own curled hair, dark and highlighted with silver by the sunlight from the window – he is terrifying and beautiful, and he knows it.

JJ takes him in very obviously, his eyes beginning to water as he leans forward against Anti’s chest, overwhelmed. He’s not treated to gifts very often, and it makes him sheepish and distant with embarrassment. “Thank you, A-husband. Thank you.” He signs shakily against Anti’s chest. Anti taps his chin and chest, pulls the hands away softly. “Love, cherish, love,” he promises to him. JJ cannot sign it back because of his cuffed hand, so he simply nuzzles at Anti’s neck in appreciation.  

Anti picks up Jamie’s free hand, regarding the thick keloid in the center from when he put a knife through it, and all the minute scars around it. His beautiful handiwork. He kisses the scar, and then slips the wedding band onto his ring finger. “To have and to hold, ‘til death do us part. You are mine to treasure until the day I kill you.”

Jameson nods in agreement, examining the band with wide eyes. It’s so beautiful – a blue stone for Anti’s bluejay. He runs his thumbs over it, loving. But there’s a subtle sickness in his guts at those words, "‘til death." Anti has already promised to him that the day Jameson dies, it will be because Anti decided it – he is not allowed to die on his own. And Jameson had promised in return to stay with him until that time comes. His gaze darkens with bitterness for a moment, like maggots crawling in his stomach. He shivers and he thumbs the ring, his cuffed hand clenching on itself as Anti moves around putting things away.

Jameson can practically already feel the rolling of worms beneath his flesh – he will be a dead thing on Anti’s floor one day. As Anti comes to kiss his forehead and lead him to their bed with promises of consummation, Jameson feels like he might already be that dead, rotten thing, being eaten away on his husbands floor.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Double Duty (Part I)

“Y/N, your boyfriend is in rare form today.”

You looked up as Tony approached your desks, grumbling something about “bad attitude”.

“Anthony,” you responded in a sing-song voice, knowing that he hated when younger agents used his full name. “When is our boss not in a mood?”

Tony smirked and angled his head toward you, a silent admission that, once again, you were right.

A sharp whistle caught your attention, and you looked up at the bridge to see those steely blue eyes boring into your soul. “Y/L/N and DiNozzo, if you’re done whining about my attitude, we have a case.”

Rolling your eyes -you didn’t miss the way Gibbs’ eyes hardened; you’d pay for that later-, you stood from your desk to head upstairs to MTAC. “When are you going to learn that I don’t like being whistled at like a dog?” You punctuated your question every so often with a finger to his chest which he promptly grabbed and used to pull you closer to him.

“When you stop responding to it like a little bitch.” He smiled wickedly before tweaking your nose and turning to the screen ahead of you.

You could only describe the colorful woman before you as Anti-Abby, a fluffy-capped pen between her manicured fingers as she waved at you. You waved back, a smile instantly blooming on your face at the warmth she exuded.

“Miss Garcia, if you wouldn’t mind filling my agents in on the case.” Gibbs gestured for her to begin and you pulled out your trusty little notebook, ready to dive in.

Garcia, or Penelope as she told you cheerfully, explained that the BAU had been tracking a serial killer in the DC area who was targeting marines, hence consulting with NCIS. They had all been found in their cars outside their homes, dressed in their uniforms with a single GSW to the head. The BAU had discerned that the marines’ wives had similar hair and facial features, and they were presumably the true objects of his rage or desire. However, none of the women had reported a stalker or anything out of the ordinary in the days leading up to their husbands’ deaths. They had simply been going about their routines as usual, yoga classes, grocery shopping, dry cleaning, and so on.

“No other connection besides the wives looking similar?” Tony questioned, brow furrowed.

“Not yet. And he’s interrupted his pattern now, too. That’s why Hotch and our Chief reached out to you guys.”

Hotch? you mouthed to Tony, receiving a shrug in response. You resisted the urge to text McGee who was on a well-deserved vacation; he would’ve been able to tell you in seconds flat.

“Thanks, Garcia. We’ll check in with you when we have something.” Gibbs nodded with finality as Garcia double-waved. “Nice to meet you all!”

“Working for the FBI now, are we, Gibbs?” Tony couldn’t help but rib your boss and you cursed him silently. If he pushed Gibbs too far, you got the beast. At night. In bed.

Come to think of it, Tony should piss Gibbs off more often.

“Not for, with,” Gibbs growled out, frowning at the two of you. “What are you still doing upstairs? Get to work!”

Intentionally brushing up against him, you purred out a “Yes sir,” and trailed your nails across his cheek as you pulled away. You loved playing this game with Jethro, seeing how far you could push him at work before he snapped and pushed you up against a wall or into the elevator or against the dashboard of the car or…

Shaking your head at your impure thoughts, you sat down at your desk and flipped open the case file. You may have been a brat to your boyfriend, but you were an asset to your boss’s team, and now was not the time to get sidetracked. You sipped your coffee and kept your head down, diligently working through the file in front of you.

An hour or so later, you felt a tiny prick against your forehead and shot up to glare at Tony. “Stop throwing things at me!” you hissed. “You’re thirty-five, not five, idiot!”

He motioned for you to quiet down and inclined his head toward the elevator that had just dinged. Scrambling up from your seat, you walked over to perch on his desk which had a better view of the elevator. The doors opened revealing what you assumed to be the BAU, and you nearly drooled at the sight.

“Oh my god,” you and Tony breathed out simultaneously, tracking the movement of the absolutely gorgeous FBI team moving through the bullpen. Your eyes swept over each member of the team, from the classy blonde to the smirking brunette, the curly-haired guy clad in a sweater vest, old money in a suit, tall, dark, and handsome and- wow.

“That’s no Fornell,” Tony commented quietly, nudging you softly as he noticed your staring at the raven-haired man striding to the conference room. His mouth was twisted downward in a hard line, and he walked with a confidence that made your knees weak.

“He’s like Jethro in a different font,” you whispered, mesmerized. Your eyes trailed downward to his strong hands and their delicious veins, your heart rate picking up as you imagined the cold metal of his watch against your skin as his fingers tightened around your-

“Ow!” you and Tony cried out, reeling from twin smacks to the backs of your heads from Gibbs.

“Put your eyeballs back in your heads and get to work,” he growled, shooting you a glare that made your blood heat up. Was Leroy Jethro Gibbs jealous?

Filing that exciting little prospect in the back of your mind, you headed to the conference room to get acquainted with the visiting FBI team. Turned out that Gibbs in a different font was exactly that- Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner was a darker, brooding version of your man.

He shook your hand as he introduced himself and his team, and you let your hand linger in his for just long enough for Jethro to notice. You could feel his intense gaze on your back as you helped the BAU pin up evidence on the board. They then filled you, Tony, and Gibbs in on their working theories and profile before splitting into teams. You opted to join Spencer at the DC map he was annotating. Seeing the cases laid out spatially helped your mind get oriented to the case. He smiled at you as you approached the board and offered you a marker, explaining the way he usually created his diagrams. You smiled in return, finding that his process was not far from your own.

Your teams worked together diligently through the afternoon and evening, and though the case had your utmost attention, you couldn’t help but notice the way your nerves tingled at the sight of Gibbs and Hotch working side by side. The two spoke to each other with such an air of arrogance and confidence that it made you wonder how they’d sound degrading you and praising you, above you and below you or perhaps in front and behind as they-

“Y/L/N!” Gibbs barked, squinting at you. “Something more interesting than the case on your mind?”

“No sir, just thinking about the diagram Reid drew up for us. Kinda looks like the Eiffel Tower,” you mused innocently, his eyes flashing at your outward show of defiance and covert flirtation.

You smiled at him sweetly before excusing yourself to go get some coffee from the kitchen downstairs.

“So, Agent Y/L/N, what has you thinking about Paris?”

You nearly choked on your coffee, turning to find Hotch leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and the hint of a smirk on his face. “I uh- Spencer’s drawing was- it’s just a lovely city,” you finished stupidly, cheeks warming. You would’ve rather dumped your scalding hot coffee on your body than admitted that the Eiffel Tower you were referencing was a structure made of men, not steel.

He reached past you to pick up the coffee pot, and your knees nearly buckled at the assault on your senses. He smelled like warm cinnamon and cologne and pure masculinity, an intoxicating mix that excited you in a different way than Jethro’s sawdust, coffee, and bourbon. You tried to calm your breathing, sure that he would hear it and be able to read your filthy mind. “I’m just- I need to- back to work!” you rushed out, narrowly slipping past him and back upstairs to the conference room.

Idiot, you chastised yourself. You sounded as dumb as the first time Jethro had gotten in your face the second week of your working at NCIS. You’d misfiled evidence which cost the team an extra day’s worth of work as the chain of custody had to be amended. Gibbs had crowded into your space, his steely blue eyes locked onto your warm chocolate ones, explaining how such a mistake could cost them an entire case one day and how you could not do it again, ever. Rather than responding with an intelligible apology or assurance that you’d never fuck up like that again because you had a brain and would be sure to use it, you merely eked out a breathy “Yes, sir,” that betrayed your true thoughts.

And the rest, they say, is history.

Later that night, the two team leaders decided that none of their agents would be helpful or intelligent enough to work this case without some sleep. You gathered your belongings from your desk and walked to the elevator, deciding that you would just meet Jethro at the car. You chatted with the BAU about their lives outside of work and found yourself thinking that cases with the FBI wouldn’t be so bad if you worked with these guys every time.

You could practically feel Gibbs, halfway across the bullpen, shudder at the thought.

“So where do they have you guys staying?” you asked, figuring that a drive back to Virginia at this time of night wouldn’t be wise.

“The Marriott down the road,” Derek answered smoothly, “if you’re looking for some company tonight, that is.” You laughed and shoved his shoulder, realizing that you got along so well with this guy because his annoyingly suave and flirtatious banter reminded you of Tony.

“An intriguing offer,” you teased, earning a smirk from Derek, “but I’m afraid my marine wouldn’t be too happy if he heard you say that.” You inclined your head to where Gibbs was still at his desk and Derek threw his hands up in mock defeat. Bidding them all good night as you parted ways in the garage, you got settled in Jethro’s truck and tucked your chin into your hand, closing your eyes for just a moment.

The driver’s side door opened and you sat up with a gasp, realizing you’d fallen asleep. “W’time is it?” you mumbled through a yawn, stretching your arms above you before wrapping them around your boyfriend’s neck.

“Just past midnight,” Gibbs murmured against your lips, and you hummed happily in response. “Let’s get you home and into bed.”

“And then?” you asked, hoping that your bratty antics today would earn you a punishment that brought more pleasure than pain.

“And then you sleep,” Jethro chuckled, eyes twinkling with mirth as he pulled out of the parking lot. You huffed out your annoyance and crossed your arms like a petulant child. You decided that tomorrow you would hunt down this marine-murdering son of a bitch singlehandedly if you had to, and then you would get a deliciously naughty night with your man.

Part II

[liviavanrouge]

Beasts Running Free AU: First Meeting

Delia: *Looks at her history book* Dad, why did hunans imprison the non-human?

Galliard: *Looks at her, then looks out the window* Because humans feel superior to them and it was a way to keep them under control

Delia: *Smiles* And you're part of the Anti group trying to fight for their freedom again!

Galliard: *Nods then perks up, grinning* Delia, let's go to the train balcony

Delia: *Hurries after him, looking curious as they stepped out then gasps* WOAH!!

Lion Beastman: *Runs alongside the train with several other non-humans, their hair flying behind them*

Galliard: Amazing aren't they!? If I'm correct it's that famous rebels group

Delia: Famous rebel?

Galliard: Look there she is!!

???: *Yowls, running to the front keeping her people in line*

Livia: *Looks at Delia and Galliard then narrows her eyes and runs to the front, leading her group*

Delia: *Stares as Livia came up beside her, reaching out towards her* Woah...

Livia: *Side eyes Delia then perks up when a cat beastman yowled behind her*

Jaguar Beastman: *Yowls as hunters chased after them, his eyes widening*

Livia: *Snarls then snaps her fingers together and points northwest*

Rebel Group: *Splits off from her, running full speed towards the woods nearby*

Livia: *Snarls and speeds up* BRING IT!

Galliard: *Waves his arms* HEY!! LEAVE HER ALONE!

Hunter A: GRAB HER! PUT A STOP TO THIS LITTLE TERRORIST!!

Hunter C: YOU WON'T ESCAPE THIS TIME!!

Livia: *Looks at the non-humans the hunters were riding, then snarls and trips a hyena beastman over sending the hunter tumbling* GO, YOU'RE FREE!!

Hyena Beastman: *Smiles and runs off towards where Livias group went*

Livia: EVIL HUMANS!! I'LL STOP ALL OF YOU!

Livia; *Dodges the ropes thrown at her, grabbing one and snatching a hunter off the back of a dog Beastman*

Dog Beastman: *Shakes himself off and smiles gratefully at her before bolting away*

Galliard: *Fires a shot from his crossbow, knocking a hunter off a Nature Fae* Delia get inside and grab me more ammo!

Delia: *Turns and runs off* Alright!!

Livia: *Whips around and kicks another hunter, freeing a panther fae* GO!

Livia: *Yowls as a rope tightened itself around her neck, snatching her backwards as two more wrapped around her wrists*

Delia: More ammo!

Galliard: *Loads his crossbow then yells in alarm when an explosion hit the balcony*

Hunter A: *Glares at them* Stay outta this!

Livia: *Looks at Galliard then yowls, glaring at him*

Galliard: Go inside Delia!

Delia: But-

Livia: *Shrieks at them*

Galliard: She's telling us to go inside! GO!!

Livia: *Narrows her eyes then snarls turning to the hunters, ropes hanging from her neck and wrists* Let's dance...

Livia: *Leaps at the lead hunter, raising her claw*

Delia: *Looks back hearing a gunshot* Huh-

Galliard: *Looks back, his eyes widening* What-

Livia: *Hits the ground, laying on her side*

Hunter C: *Leaps down off the back of a light fae, walking over to Livia and nudging her with his boot* She's down.

Galliard: *Stares with wide eyes then looks away, pulling Delia close to him*

Delia: *Stares at Livia with eyed* She's gone...

@queen-of-twisted @yukii0nna @zexal-club

[poshpull2]

As a canine proprietor, you figure out the significance of a polite and thoroughly prepared fuzzy buddy. Whether you're out for a comfortable walk or setting out on an open-air experience, having command over your canine's developments is fundamental for both their wellbeing and your genuine serenity. This is where the nose lead for dogs becomes possibly the most important factor, offering a delicate and powerful method for directing your canine companion while guaranteeing they stay agreeable and cheerful.

[2poshpull]

Release the Experience: The Force of the Nose Lead for dogs

Presentation:

As a canine proprietor, you figure out the significance of a polite and thoroughly prepared fuzzy buddy. Whether you're out for a comfortable walk or setting out on an open-air experience, having command over your canine's developments is fundamental for both their wellbeing and your genuine serenity. This is where the nose lead for dogs becomes possibly the most important factor, offering a delicate and powerful method for directing your canine companion while guaranteeing they stay agreeable and cheerful.

What is a Nose Lead?

A nose lead, otherwise called a head strap or head restraint, is a specific preparation instrument intended to give you more noteworthy command over your canine's developments by delicately directing their head. Not at all like conventional restraints or tackles that join around the neck or chest, a nose lead circles around your canine's gag and behind their ears, permitting you to control them with negligible exertion. This plan works by utilizing a canine's normal nature to follow their nose, making it an extraordinarily viable preparation help for canines of all sizes and breeds.

The Advantages of Utilizing a Nose Lead:

1.        Delicate Control:One of the essential benefits of utilizing a nose lead is its delicate way to deal with preparing. As opposed to depending on power or inconvenience, a nose lead diverts your canine's consideration without creating any aggravation or distress. This goes with it an ideal decision for canines that might be impervious to customary preparation strategies or have delicate necks.

2.        Further developed Concentration:By directing your canine's head, a nose lead urges them to zero in on you, their overseer, as opposed to getting diverted by outer boosts like different creatures or new fragrances. This superior center can be especially advantageous during instructional meetings or while strolling in occupied conditions where interruptions flourish.

3.        Forestalls Pulling:On the off chance that you've at any point encountered the dissatisfaction of strolling a canine that pulls unremittingly on their rope, you'll see the value in the viability of a nose lead. By controlling your canine's head, a nose lead deters pulling conduct, making strolls more charming for both you and your fuzzy companion.

4.        Limits Gagging:Not at all like customary restraints that can come down on a canine's neck and throat, a nose lead circulates pressure uniformly across the gag, diminishing the gamble of stifling or injury. This makes it a more secure choice for canines inclined to respiratory issues or those with sensitive necks.

5.        Versatility:Nose leads are valuable for strolling and preparing as well as be significant in different circumstances, for example, vet visits, prepping meetings, or acquaintances with new conditions. Their flexibility makes them a priority device for any canine proprietor hoping to improve their pet's compliance and in general prosperity.

Ways to utilize a Nose Lead Successfully:

•             Present the nose lead step by step, permitting your canine to become acquainted with wearing it prior to endeavoring to walk or prepare with it.

•             Utilize encouraging feedback strategies, for example, treats and commendation to remunerate your canine for good way of behaving while at the same time wearing the nose lead.

•             Practice persistence and consistency while preparing with the nose lead, as it might require investment for your canine to acclimate to this better approach for strolling.

Conclusion:

All in all, the nose lead for dogs is an important device for advancing dutifulness, wellbeing, and satisfaction during strolls and instructional meetings. Its delicate yet compelling plan makes it reasonable for canines of any age and demeanors, offering a compassionate option in contrast to customary chokers and bridles. By putting resources into a nose lead and finding opportunity to appropriately acquaint and prepare your canine with use it, you can release a universe of experience while fortifying the connection among you and your canine sidekick.

[thiefoflight68]

Just A Silly FanFic Writer! My Masterlist

Hello and welcome to my Tumblr account. I post all my writings in Fanfiction, A03 & Wattpad. Everything is under my user id Thiefoflight68.

I consider myself a girl but use She/They as I am pansexual. I generally write Fanfiction, play Dungeons & Dragons and walk on the beach all the time with my dog listening to music for my fics. I love music and try to put some good songs into my stories to help get the vibe of the scene. I do try to keep characters as canon as possible but I like to change up personalities so that it's not always the same for my readers (and myself). I mainly write MHA at the moment. I've also started doing Fem Reader Inserts and am enjoying those.

It's finally happened - I wrote a fanfic that is not MHA. A smutty Omegaverse one shot for a challenge of MCU

Current WIPs:

I am SO excited to be back to a Baku/Deku again. This time going Fantasy and Western AUs!

The Kingdom of the Six Pillars - Being pulled into another world through a magic portal only happens in stories, right? Not for Izuku Midoriya. Finding himself in a strange realm, he has been brought to the Kingdom of the Six Pillars as a Magical Transfer. This world only is able to survive by the magic created between a bonded pair of a Transfer and a Pillar. Except Transfers must have magic to be bonded and as Izuku steps into the dark water, it shows... nothing. Now stuck in this world for as long as it takes for a bonded pair to form, Izuku decides to explore and discover the world around him.

Second Chance Ranch - When life hasn’t gone the way you wanted, shouldn’t you get a second chance? Bakugou found himself trying to get a job to restart after being released from prison but fate had other ideas. A chance meeting brought him to the Midoriya Family Ranch, also known as Second Chance Ranch by the ex-convicts that had made a new life there. But is he the only one needing a second chance? Destiny seems to have brought him here to be the rescuer as much to be rescued.

My Current Works:

One Shots -

Waiting for The Ghost King - Fluffy one shit of Xie Lian on Mount Tiacang alone.

Broken Heat - MCU Bucky Barnes x Sam Wilson. Omegaverse plot bunny challenge.

A Cowboy in Chaps - A fun Sero x Reader off of my new Western AU Second Chance Ranch (not yet posted).

Taming Of The Crew - Sequel to @succibisblog story 4M/1F Bakusquad GB with fluff (gotta have my fluff) Bakugsqaud x Fem!Reader insert

The New Employee - Reader request for an edgy but soft 6M/1F Bakusquad gangbang with fluff Bakusquad x Fem!Reader

The Drop - Baku/Eijiro x Fem!Reader - A BDSM series Part One

The Scene - Part Two

WIP Third Part - Someday, I promise. It's written but I don't love it and I won't publish what I don't love! SIGH

Kirishima Drives Like A Maniac - Highjacked from I Will Always Love You. Funny one shot - Kirishima x Fem!Reader

What If You Couldn't Sweat Kacchan? - This is a K+ (language) silly one shot for a competition - Baku/Deku

Reaching For Gold - Shoji's Wish - This is a request from a reader for a one shot from Reaching For Gold - Baku/Deku/Shoji Smut

My long Fics -

If I Have a Quirk, Then Why Do I Need a Gun? - Baku/Todo After the loss of their friend and the government revoking their Pro Hero licenses. Several members of the 1A class have become detectives. During their investigation they began unraveling a mystery that may lead them to understanding what happened to their friend or to their own deaths.

I Will Always Love You - Baku/Deku Bakusquad on tour as a professional music band. Super hot Shinso/Ojiro side ship, they about steal the show.

Let's Give Them Something To Talk About - A Small Town Romance- Baku/Deku with side ship of Sero/Kiri

Reaching for Gold - Baku/Deku with side ship of Miro/Sero - Sports Romance

A Succulent Prize - The Anti - Cupid (Written in a COVID Fever - so just...) Baku/Deku strange little story - Romance + ? (I adore all my fics but this weird ass story is my low key favorite.)

Open For Business - Baku/Deku - My first and super sweet Romance - Hurt Comfort but a little rambling LOL

[goingrampant]

Watching the season four premiere of The Boys...

It seems like Stormfront is still carrying the villains despite Aya Cash no longer being on the show... I rather think Eric Kripke pulled a Ruby with the character, a fridging of a great female villain with sexist undertones, just that he stumbled into a situation where no one wants to criticize him because the character is a Nazi and everyone performatively hates her instead of analyzing the work of fiction as a work of fiction. (The performative hatred of Stormfront is just bizarre. Harassing a Jewish actress for portraying a Nazi in a work of fiction about the Nazis being bad is pointless aggression.)

After killing off Ruby, Supernatural had a gap for charismatic villains, and you can tell they were scrambling to make Ruby 2.0 with the various derivations of the Lilith figure, mostly God's sister (I forget her name). Likewise, Stormfront was killed off, and now they're replacing her with Firecracker, who is exactly the same but less charismatic without Aya Cash and doesn't have the strength of the character being developed though time on the show like Stormfront would have been if she wasn't killed off.

I feel like the woman in "Red Flags" would appreciate the sex scene in 4x02. I swear the show is leading up to a series finale in which Homelander ejaculates straight into the camera. It will also be the first episode in 3D. 😉

I was translating the Nazi stuff for my father, trying to explain what they were talking about and how the spoofs were not much more outlandish than the things they were referencing. He cares a lot about the threat Nazis represent, but I don’t think he knows that much about them...

Me: (explains what "clovergender" means)

Him: "Weird."

Me: "Yes, it's weird. Nazis are weird."

Nazi supe Firecracker dropping a reference to "The Storm" was obviously a Q-Anon reference but is also thematically appropriate considering they're Stormchasers, followers of Stormfront.

I like that the show writers are making the antisemitism of the far-right American nationalists explicit. I took issue with them just depicting bad guys repeating Nazi dog whistle talking points instead of making it clear who they are. At a time when antisemitism is on the rise, we can't afford to be wishy-washy. Even Stormfront wasn't overtly antisemitic. I don't like Firecracker as Stormfront 2.0, but at least she represents the evil of the Nazis authentically instead of leaning into Ilsa sensationalisn.

Good development of Frenchie. I like that they finally made his bisexuality overt instead of hinted. I also like seeing some effect of him taking hard drugs besides that just being a background element to freak out Hughie.

Sage is a great new villain. I like that she isn't naturally a fascist but just assumes the role when she agrees to work for Homelander and does so excellently. I suppose she's also a bit of a Stormfront 2.0 in her plotting aspect but distinctive from both Stormfront and Firecracker. She is an anti-racist facilitating a fascist uprising based around supe vs. human bigotry she probably doesn't believe in. That makes for a wicked villain and compelling political commentary.

Whenever Homelander struggles to parent Ryan, I have to wonder how things would be different if Stormfront was still around to co-parent. I like to think she'd help Ryan be more covert when he sneaks out and train him to be a better manipulator. "You're lying... We shouldn't be able to tell!" (I'll make a fix-it fic when I'm done with CotV. 😉)

The depiction of transgender people is mixed. They're influenced by both the past trends of transphobia on the main show and the new trans-positivity on Gen V. The fact that Nazis demonize trans people as part of their antisemitism isn't shied away from, but they're still antagonistic to trans people being accepted in society.

I'd say this season effectively captures the tension of living in a far-right environment. It's very tight and well-paced. I'm looking forward to seeing the rest.

[spyvstailor]

Burn, Baby, Burn - Chapter One

@acapelladitty I wrote a Firefly and Baby Doll buddy comedy, with a dark edge to it. I dunno...it just sort of came out.

If this was salvation, why did it buzz so loud?

Green eyes fluttered closed as the cacophony of the angels sang around him, they blended with the buzzing until they became a low, droning tone. The music set the soundtrack for the orange glow that bathed a pale, weary face.

Pyromaniacs burn out, someone had once joked. Was it the Joker who said that? Even doped up on powerful anti-psychotics as he had been, the green haired man was hard to keep docile.

You're just a match.

Burning.

Burning...

Burning......

Burning.........

Out.

Ashes.

Only ashes and smoke.

“Hey, man, we gotta close up. You buying or what?”

They call me "hell"

They call me Stacey

They call me "her"

They call me Jane

The music of the angels choir morphed into something else entirely and the Fireball Whiskey neon sign blinked out as the man speaking with him pulled the metal bead cord. It clinked against the wall behind the sign, as the man turned to face him.

Garfield turned away, forgetting why he had even entered the liquor store. He wasn't supposed to drink on his meds.

He shuffled towards the door in his scuffed brown Oxfords.

At the door his reflection stopped him and he gazed back numbly at himself, dressed in what he assumed was a dead man's clothes, looking like an old man before his time.

It was probably the chino's that were too short, the argyle socks that showed in the span between the oxfords and the pant hems, and the knit cardigan over a button up that created the effect. The clothes were given to him by the Sister's of the Veil of Tears, and he was very certain they had robbed a corpse for them.

It didn't matter, the cardigan was warm and it was the heat he craved. The world was too cold.

“Dude go!” The man behind him shouted.

Garfield pushed open the door, shoving himself aside, and stepped out into the night.

He found his way to the only place he felt like he was accepted, which fucking sucked, because it was full of lowlife scum and high class whores, and every rogue that ever coloured Batman's bulletin.

The Iceberg Lounge was dim enough, and quiet enough, and classy enough that it wasn't a shit hole, it was just full of shit people.

But Ozzie was warm enough to him, and every now and then the other criminals of Gotham's underbelly would give him a respectful nod.

He was technically supposed to be there, it broke his parole, but it was either sit and rot in a dark booth there, or sit on the edge of his sagging, spring trap bed in his miserable hole in the wall halfway house apartment.

And Ozzie never forced him to pay a cover charge, though he did watch Garfield very carefully some nights through his office window, overlooking the dancefloor.

It was unspoken Garfield would take a stool at the bar if the place was packed.

The criminals in Gotham were an interesting breed. You had your popular clique, your Joker's and your Catwomen and your Two-Face's, but then at the far end of the spectrum were your pathetic losers, your Calendar Men, your Mr. Camera's, your fucking Captain Blimp's. The criminals that were so embarrassing, you felt second hand shame if you stood too close. They were real stinkers, fucking mouldy cheese on the charcuterie board that was Gotham City.

Every now and then you got a glimpse of the top dogs, the cream of the crop and it felt like a goddamned celebrity sighting.

Garfield fucking hated it, but then again his meds made him irritable and exhausted, which naturally lead to him being so tired of everyone's bullshit.

The Riddler built a fucking puzzle box inside an abandoned warehouse and trapped the Mayor's daughter in it?

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

Poison Ivy infected half of the greater downtown area with a sex pollen that only infected adult men, and only enticed them to fuck trees?

Get fucking splintered assholes.

Oh, Freeze coated everything on the upper east side with ice?

Sarcastic applause, that's never been done before.

Maybe it was time to up his meds? He thought as he drank his soda pop like a fucking child and sat in his old man pants, thinking bitterly of the world like a teenager.

“Who the fuck let this kid in here?!” Someone shouted from the bar, grabbing Garfield's attention and he looked over and up to find a little girl sitting boldly at the bar, swinging her feet in her lovingly polished Mary Jane's.

“Get fucked asshole!” The child snapped at the bartender.

“You can't be in here, kid,” the bartender said. “Where's your parents?”

“Tag teaming your mom, pal,” the girl replied. “I had a rough goddamned day and I just want a gin, okay?”

“Get the fuck out of here! Where's Carson?! Carson! We got a kid in here!” The bartender called for the one armed bouncer. Carson had said he had lost the arm to a fight with Killer Croc, but damned if he wasn't made of harder stuff than to quit his job.

Garfield smiled to himself.

Carson knew and he knew, but the bartender was new since Garfield had been in Arkham.

The poor woman. She was 30 years old, but she small, maybe 4'8” with heels, if she could find ones small enough, and 75 pounds soaking wet. Her face was delicate, youthful for sure. It would be easy to take her for a 10 year old if you didn't look hard enough.

Carson wandered onto the scene with a grin. “It's fine. That's Baby Doll, she's good.”

“She's a fucking kid,” the bartender argued.

“Want me to show you the hair on my snatch, jackass?” Baby Doll demanded.

For the first time since he had gone maniac before Arkham, Garfield laughed, it wasn't just a chuckle, it was drop your head into your hands and muffle your belly laugh, kind of laughter.

He wasn't alone, half of the Iceberg were cutting up, laughing as the bartender turned bright red and sputtered, not knowing how to respond to a petite, 30 year old offering to whip out her puss just to prove she was at least a grown assed woman, despite the clothes that looked like she bought in the children's section.

Oh, the criminals in Gotham were fucked up. He mused as he dried a tear. He had only personally met Baby Doll once in passing, and that had been long, long before the mania, when he was just Garfield Lynns, pyrotechnics expert, working the silver screen dream of burning shit safely and dramatically, and she had just been Mary Louise Dahl, 'child' actor. She was a bit of a brat, but he didn't mind, she wasn't as bad as most actors.

After a considerate moment, he raked a hand through his hair and got to his feet, approaching the bar and the small woman sitting there. He eased down a couple of stools away from her and took a surreptitious look in her direction as she sipped her gin and tonic with the cherry in it.

“Get lost creep,” she murmured, not even breaking eye contact with her phone where it looked like she was playing some kind of game.

“I'm not...we met once before,” he began simply helping himself to a bar peanut and shelling it.

“And?” She demanded, still playing her game.

He moved a few stools closer to her and snacked on his peanut. “You know, if you want people to stop mistaking you for a kid, maybe you should stop dressing like a kid.”

“Great,” she muttered, “I'm getting fashion advice from my 90 year old grandpa.”

Garfield nodded and looked down at his cardigan and button up shirt. “Okay, fair point.”

With a sigh, she set her phone down and looked over at him. “You look like shit, Firefly.”

Startled that she knew who he was, he floundered for a moment, before recovering. “I'm, uh...heavily medicated.”

She glowered a little at him.

“I just...we met on set once, a long time ago. I was rigging the pyrotechnics for a firework scene on your show, Love That Baby? Remember?”

“No, I don't remember you yelling at me for standing too close to the rig,” she returned dryly.

He smiled only a little, pleased she remembered him. Not many people did when he wasn't burning their shit down.

Mary Louise smiled a little in return, but it was still coated with a heavy air of annoyance and she all but rolled her dark, almond eyes. “What do you want, techie?”

“I really don't know, maybe I just wanted to sit beside someone having a worse day than me,” he said.

They were quiet, both of them nursing their drinks, his soda pop having gone flat years ago.

“I have to wear kids clothes,” she finally admitted, brushing her raven black hair behind her ear, “because clothes in the adult section don't fit and I'm not rich enough to get my shit tailor made.”

He knew since her show was cancelled, since she had gone through the whole 'criminal of the week' like he did, that she had fallen from the starlit grace she had been accustomed to when she was actually younger. Back when she was a young twentysomething, playing a ten year old girl on an after school special type show, back when people adored her and her looking young enough to play the part without the union having to adhere to the rules of an actual child actor. She was in the same hole he had dug for himself, only Baby Doll was clawing at the sides of her hole, trying to find her way out and Garfield was thinking of getting a houseplant for his and settling into the earth to wait to die.

He took a long swig of his flat soda and tried hard not to gaze into the flickering flame of the tabletop candle burning on the bar near them and said, “I got my clothes from the homeless bin at the local church, I think someone died in them, so...that's what's going on here.”

“Gross,” Mary Louise said. “You're going to get like cholera or something. You know people shit themselves when they die.”

“Yeah,” he murmured into his soda. “What is cholera, anyways?”

“I don't know, like an old man disease,” she replied. “Why are you still bothering me?!”

At first Garfield thought she was yelling at him, but she was waving her hand irritably at the bartender.

“The talent needs space,” Garfield said to the man. As he glanced over at Mary Louise, he found her smiling a little proudly, that shine of being a star once more lighting up her face and he nodded firmly once at her as though he was agreeing silently that she was still the talent.

Mary Louise sighed. “Sorry I implied you're a pedo. Experience says only one kind of man approaches me at a bar.”

“I didn't...I just...” he faltered.

“I get it,” she said sincerely, gazing at her gin as though mesmerized by the drink. “Familiarity can be a comfort...”

Garfield gazed past her, eyes drawn to the candle flame flickering at the end of the bar, he watched the flame as it danced and pulsed, before closing his eyes tight and dropping his gaze to his own drink, his hands shaking.

“Can I get a whiskey, a double?” He asked the bartender without looking up from his flat soda.

The man nodded from his place a couple feet away.

Baby Doll downed her gin and set it on the bar hard, slamming the glass down. “And give me another one of those?”

Set light to this fucking night, Garfield thought as his whiskey arrived, watch the powder keg go off.

The rest of the night happened in flashes, between whiskey and a couple of shots of something Mary Louise had ordered for them, was colours and lights.

“You do it like this,” Mary Louise was explaining to him a new dance all the kids were doing as he drank deep from his glass of whatever it was he was drinking.

Laughter.

“You're paying for that,” Ozzie said as Garfield stood over a broken stool.

Falling down in the alley.

“Can you introduce me?” The Mad Hatter was asking, eyes looking past him to Mary Louise ordering more drinks at the bar.

A blink.

Putting the Mad Hatter into a headlock.

Laughter.

“No, the Charleston is more like this,” he shouted at Mary Louise over the noise of the dancefloor of some other club.

Falling down on the sidewalk, or was he being shoved down.

Holding Mary Louise back from beating the shit out of some lippy young woman who was shouting back at her, the words lost to the liquor.

Garfield tilting his head back to stop the blood from dribbling out of his broken nose.

“That's...that's not dabbing!” Mary Louise was laughing at him.

Music, so loud it vibrated in his ears.

“No! No that's...no you're thinking of the Deer Hunter!” He shouted.

Laughter.

A taxidermy fish?

“We should steal that orb!” Mary Louise was talking.

Someone falling down beside him on the pavement.

“...I'm sane, but I'm overwhelmed!” They belted into a microphone. “I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby!”

Knocking over a stand of potato chips.

Wal-Mart?

“That's still not...no it's not...that isn't dabbing!”

Laughter.

“No, he's not! That's...you're just...it's a conspiracy theory! Bruce Wayne can't be Batman! Because he's rich and Batman is...a man who dresses like a bat!”

Falling down on the railway tracks.

“'Cuz I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving a high five!”

Throwing a frozen crab into the bay.

“Okay, but then...which is the one with Robert DeNiro?”

Falling onto a couch.

Death.

His first thought when his eyes cracked open was that he wished for death. Afraid to move, knowing that what awaited him was pain and vomiting. So he lay as still as he could and suffered in silence as his head throbbed.

He needed water and a gun.

Outside the sun was mercilessly shining, the birds were chirping and the sounds of the city were so fucking annoying.

Garfield chanced a very, very slow turn of his head so he wasn't just staring up at the ceiling above him.

Thank God, he was home in his shitty fucking apartment.

His mouth tasted like a leprechaun shit in it with a hint of ash and he really, really needed water.

“Are you dead?” He asked the other presence he sensed in the room with him.

“Unfortunately no,” she muttered from behind his couch.

“Are you on the floor?”

“I think so.”

He grunted as he shifted into a position to get ready to move into a sitting position.

“You're younger,” he sighed giving up. “Get me some water.”

“Get fucked,” she replied weakly.

“Get grandpa some water,” he tried to sweeten her up with a joke.

She snorted. “Go back to sleep, if you sleep long enough it goes away.”

Sounded plausible, he closed his eyes again.