#safety issues and practices

[alphafightmusic]

Disney on Ice was Wack

So I saw Disney on Ice today not having seen either Frozen or Encanto and let me tell ya it was sight to see. Literally all the performers were children which took me by surprise but they were all wickedly talented. I like Frozen's story but found Encanto's kind of boring. The production was on point: fireworks, a ring of fire, big set pieces. But the scariest thing of them of all was stunts that they were having LITERAL CHILDREN do. One child did a back flip on ice! Like what if there is a misstep and the child breaks their neck? Seems crazy to me. They also had children swinging from this rope that was then lifted into the air! My jaw dropped. If that child falls... I don't even want to think about it. DCFS should maybe be called on this production. But overall very entertaining!

[theusarticles]

NFL star Odell Beckham Jr. removed from Miami flight after refusing to comply with safety protocol, police say | CNN

NFL star Odell Beckham Jr. removed from Miami flight after refusing to comply with safety protocol, police say | CNN

CNN  —  NFL free agent wide receiver Odell Beckham Jr. was removed from a Los Angeles-bound American Airlines flight Sunday morning at Miami International Airport after refusing to comply with safety protocol, according to a statement from the Miami-Dade Police Department. In a statement obtained by CNN affiliate WVSN, Miami-Dade police said officers were dispatched when the American Airlines…

[reportwire]

Western New York slammed with more than 5 feet of snow, triggering road closures and flight cancellations the weekend before Thanksgiving | CNN

Western New York slammed with more than 5 feet of snow, triggering road closures and flight cancellations the weekend before Thanksgiving | CNN

CNN  —  New Yorkers in the western part of the state are still being slammed with a massive snowstorm that has shut down roads, triggered driving bans and canceled flights the weekend before the Thanksgiving holiday. By Friday evening, 5.5 feet of snow had covered streets in the town of Orchard Park, New York, near Buffalo in hard-hit Erie County, according to the National Weather Service. As…

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[sickmachete]

HEY !! HERE ARE SOME RANDOM FIRE SAFETY TIPS !!

AVOID HILLS. seriously. the radiant heat coming off the flames pre-heats nearby grasses/fuels located above (heat rises!) which is what cause fires to "run" up hills lighting up long strips in the blink of an eye. you cannot outrun a fire that's chasing you up hill.

EVEN IF you are standing below the fire all it takes is one stray ember blown in the wind to start a fire below YOU and then you're really screwed. if you're caught on a hill, run to the side and (if possible) try to get to any charred/burnt zones behind the fire.

charred/already burnt black areas are safe zones. they will not easily re-burn and can become refuges to retreat to (but still be mindful of smoke inhalation).

healthy green grass lawns can also be temporary safe zones. the moisture held in lush grass makes it a lot more difficult to catch fire and can work as a temporary refuge in the case of a house fire. however, TO BE CLEAR: this does NOT apply to tall forest meadow-type grasses. when i say healthy grass im talkin like suburban manicured lawns okay? if your lawn is looking crusty dry brown then thats not gonna be a good place to run to.

most mild carbon monoxide poisoning (aka smoke inhalation) can be cured by simply taking in fresh air. severe smoke inhalation may require further medical treatment though.

fire needs FUEL + OXYGEN + HEAT in order to burn. if you removed ANY of these 3 things, the fire will go out. this is known as the fire triangle. the reason why water works against fire is mainly because it's cold, however it also helps by "drowning" the fire, depriving it of oxygen.

on this note!! if you're cooking and your food catches on fire inside the pan, DO NOT! pour water onto it!!!! that will only make it splash. what you're gonna wanna do is grab a pot/pan lid and gently slide it onto the pan. this will cut off its oxygen and put the fire out. DO NOT! slam the lid onto the pan!! this rush of wind/air could blow the fire right out of the pan and directly onto you/nearby furniture!

CHECK YOUR FIRE EXTINGUISHERS!!! please!! not all fire extinguishers are meant to be used on the same fire!!! while it can vary (and you should definitely look up the ratings for your own location/extinguishers) many of them will have specific class ratings written along the label. here in the USA, those ratings are in letter form (ie: Class A, Class B, Class C, Class D, and Class K). sometimes these ratings are combined (ie: Class ABC), meaning that a Class ABC fire extinguisher can be used on a Class A, B, or C fire.

FIRE EXTINGUISHERS AND THEIR ASSIGNED FIRES

CLASS A: these extinguishers should be used on wood/paper/plastic (ie: your basic trash fire).

CLASS B: these extinguishers should be used on flammable liquids (ie: alcohol, gas, petroleum, greasing oils <- not food oils though!!).

CLASS C: these extinguishers should be used on electrical fires (ie: sparking cables, your computer spontaneously combusted and is on fire, etc).

CLASS D: these extinguishers should be used on combustible metals (ie: magnesium, titanium, potassium, sodium, etc. if that metal shit in your garage is burning, use Class D).

CLASS K: these extinguishers should be used on flammable cooking oils/greases (ie: your stove is on fire, your barbecue's on fire, etc).

CLASS ABC: these extinguishers can be used on any of the Class A, B, or C material fires.

DO NOT USE THE WRONG EXTINGUISHER. they are labeled differently for a reason!!! a Class ABC extinguisher (for example) will make a Class K fire splash! you will cause that big old greasy fire to splash right back onto you!! Class K extinguishers are specifically designed to safely put out fires without disturbing the liquids/oils so please please please check the labels of your extinguishers.

AND REMEMBER TO "PASS" !!!

HOW TO USE A FIRE EXTINGUISHER — P.A.S.S.

PULL the pin in the handle.

AIM the nozzle at the base of the fire.

SQUEEZE the lever slowly.

SWEEP (across the base of the fire) from side to side.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

[mountain-lion-gremlin]

a good reason to leave for me:

i honestly think it would be safer for me and therians to not be in the same space sometimes haha. P-shifting isn't safe for many and it can really hurt others.

Although I would love to stay, I know that it's probably safer for everyone to no longer teach it and keep to myself about things that involve how to shift and such.

P-shifting isn't a joke and can harm people who suffer from mental issues and other things of that sort. Its just not safe to teach in a large public space. It's something only some can stomach and be safe while doing. Plus some communities that are too unregulated exist and may mess with people's reality and how they perceive it. Some are too open to allow people to start p-shifting right off the bat and it's just too dangerous that way. (including those that say "oh just wait you will shift eventually but you cant control it at all" those are even worse.)

Theres a very good reason why newer communities are very apprehensive about teaching, or telling, or allowing new people who know nothing about it just hop in and start shifting. Usually if you are coming to the "learning" community (as in, you are following steps laid out by others to understand your identity) there is guidelines, there are warnings, etc. It's just too risky to not follow these guidelines and not listen to the warnings.

Dont start p-shifting right when you find out. Take the time to start a journal. Understand that what you are getting into isn't something that will make you cool or quirky. You risk your mental health if you are not careful. You have to be born to be a p-shifter. You must first mental shift before you can even think about p-shifting. P-shifting is not easy and will take years to even get to a point where you start getting somewhere physically.

The list goes on. When someone who is teaching shifting slacks in saying these things, you can harm someone. It takes a very long time to even get to the point where you may be ready to p-shift. Some never will p-shift. You have to accept these realities too. Not to mention how some older guides, although effective, can be so incredibly risky. (Such as completely shutting out the world and being an animal 24/7. Some people just take it too far and do it too early and ruin themselves.) Its just not worth it sometimes.

Thats why I'm leaving Tumblr. Too open, not safe for neither me nor others looking in. I know I usually don't have these sorts of posts, but I just saw someone in an anon saying how unstable their reality and they were after lurking in the community and it just.... its just so hard to see. Nobody deserves that sort of mental torture. Sometimes I forget that p-shifting actually can be dangerous to some if nobody teaches how important it is to regulate yourself, check in on yourself, and remember that p-shifting isn't for the faint of heart.

It's only for those who have spent so much time over years of their journey, exploring themselves, askong questions, taking breaks, questioning themselves so many times, and checking in, to finally be able to claim that they are able to p-shift. (There is so much more to it than that obviously.) My fourth year of shifting is coming up, and after so long I might be ready to leave the online community permanently and start my journey. (of physically shifting i mean. I spend more time teaching others rather than doing the practice itself right now lol. When i say p-shifting im trying to refer to the whole process, but really talking about the mental shifting and phantom shifting etc. Sorry if its been unclear, many know the whole community as "p-shifters" when in reality "p-shifters" are only those who havw actually preformed a p-shift. I havent yet in my conscious memory so i just call myself a shifter or nonhuman.)

Please be safe. Please, if you are curious about the p-shifting community, remember that it is a mixed bag and not for everyone. As always any community can be a mixed bag, but p-shifting "learning" communities can spiral and be too lax on the warnings and importance of these warnings.

Thats all. (make sure to read all tags fully too.)

[moe-broey]

Oh, poor thang!

[gumheel]

oaky call me ignorant and if someone has more insight into this feel free to talk to me this isn't an area i'm immensely educated in so i'd love to have a dialogue about it. but i never understand why the response to dogs coming from puppy mills is this unilateral "do NOT touch that dog with a ten foot pole" because i think it feels really... cruel? if you have the time & education & resources to socialize, ensure the heath of, and train that dog, then i've never rrally understood why the feeling is that you should just ignore their existence. the thing is those dogs have already been bred and are already being sold; i guess the principle is not to encourage those practices monetarily in any way which i Understand on a theoretical level but it seems harsh in practice. what happens to those dogs if they're never adopted? idk. i guess my ideal reality would be one in which you can combat the existence of these breeders without letting a dog suffer but i don't know if that's plausible

[gibbearish]

i know it was a joke that is sort of understandable in context so im not gonna say anything on the post itself. but boy seeing someone say "i'm also down with murdering a few actors if it leads to better movies" REALLY rubs me the wrong way

[yoshifawful64]

.

[screambirdscreaming]

Look, I get where you're coming from, but I think you've swung too far in the other direction here. NSAIDs and acetaminophen are, in most places as far as I'm aware, the only options available for non-prescription pain medications. They're available without prescription because, if used infrequently and within the recommended dosages, they are relatively safe and low in side effects. HOWEVER. it is very difficult to get a prescription for pain medication, and even if you do, those medications also come with dose limits and side effects. So the bottom line is that many, MANY people are relying on NSAIDs and acetaminophen for the primary management of chronic pain. And in that context, it is absolutely possible to severely hurt yourself. Which I think people absolutely deserve more knowledge and awareness of - even if they find it somewhat alarming.

This is especially true where people are brushed off by doctors to "just use advil" for pain that is quite frankly, too severe and ongoing for advil to safely handle. The dismissive way in which doctors treat NSAIDs gives the impression that they are harmless, and many people are desperate for relief. This leads people to use NSAIDs heavily and without precautions, causing lasting harm to themselves which could have been averted, or at least mitigated, by taking steps towards safer use - like those outlined in the original post. NSAIDs work on several biochemical pathways at once - they reduce inflammation, relax muscles, decrease pain signalling of nerves, and slightly inhibit blood clotting, and they also increase the production of stomach acid and decrease the production of protective mucus lining the stomach. This function is pretty much baked in, there's no way around it. So it's not an issue of "some people's stomachs are sensitive to NSAIDs," it's an issue of "NSAIDs cause some damage directly to the stomach lining every time you take them". It's not very much damage from one dose, and if that's the only dose you take for a while, it'll heal right back up. But if you keep taking them, multiple doses back to back, for days or weeks on end.... the damage starts to add up. Or even if you don't use them that much, but take maybe a dose every day to help with muscle soreness after work... or a couple times a month, for migraines or period cramps.... point is, if the damage to the stomach lining is happening faster than it can heal, you start to get problems - but you probably won't notice anything is wrong until it gets pretty bad.

Being careless until you get a proto-ulcer, or an ulcer, or acid reflux, or a bleeding lesion in the duodenum - is not a great tactic. And I will tell you, pretty much everyone I know who is careful about taking their NSAIDs with food or antacids, has become careful after suffering AT LEAST one of the above. And many people end up, as OP said, unable to take NSAIDs at all, because the chronic damage to the stomach is too easily aggravated. Which is not great! So it's good to get in the habit of safer use, before you find yourself in a situation of heavily using pain meds without realizing they could cause lasting damage! Because the underlying issue is stomach acid causing damage to the stomach lining, you can: - take NSAIDs with food, or after eating, so the food dilutes the stomach acid - take NSAIDs with an antacid, like tums (although avoid aluminum-based antacids with ibuprofen) - take NSAIDs with an H2 blocker, a relatively fast-acting medicine that reduces acid produced by the stomach - take a daily PPI medication, which reduces acid produced by the stomach over the long term

Now, H2 blockers and PPIs are other (non-prescription) medications which have their own potential for side effects and interactions - so do your research if you want to add either of them to your medication regimen. But they can be very helpful, especially for healing up if damage has already been caused. Now all that being said. Acetaminophen is a COMPLETELY different story. And what pushed me to reply to this post was the way you were lumping together information on max dosages, which I think is dangerously misleading, even if the numbers are not technically incorrect. See, the risk with NSAIDs is chronic damage from long-term use, but they are relatively safe drugs in the acute sense. For Ibuprofen in particular - the bottle will tell you not to take more than 400mg at once, but if pressed a doctor will say you can take up to 800mg and it's perfectly safe if you don't make too much of a habit of it, and hypothetically you could even take a much higher dose than that and not die, although you wouldn't have a very good time. So, while it is certainly not recommended to take more than 800mg at once or more than 1600mg a day to avoid long-term consequences.... it happens. Which can perhaps teach a person the wrong lessons about dose safety. The risk with acetaminophen is acute toxicity. If you take too much at once, it causes liver toxicity, and then liver failure, and then death. This process can be stopped, but not reversed, so survival depends strongly on early diagnosis and treatment. You might think that the toxic dose in enough higher than the treatment dose that it'd be difficult to overdose accidentally - but that's not necessarily the case. From a National Institute of Health summary on Acetaminophen toxicity: "Acetaminophen toxicity is the second most common cause of liver transplantation worldwide and the most common cause of liver transplantation in the US. It is responsible for 56,000 emergency department visits, 2,600 hospitalizations, and 500 deaths per year in the United States. Fifty percent of these are unintentional overdoses." Sure, relative to the total population, overdoses aren't *that* common - but if 50% are accidental, I think people need to be better informed. The major issue with acetaminophen is that it is present as an active ingredient in many, many multi-drug medications, which people often don't realize. So an overdose can occur if, for example, a parent who has already given their child a Tylenol to get their fever down also gives them a dose of cough syrup - each alone at the recommended dose, but it adds up. (Children are at a greater risk of overdose on anything, because toxic dosage is relative to body size, and kids are small.)

So yes, acetaminophen is a great drug and relatively safe if you know how much you are taking. Always check the active ingredients on any medicine you take, especially if you're taking multiple things at once. And for acetaminophen especially, don't take more than the recommended dose at once, don't take more than the maximum dose per day, and wait at least 4 hours between doses - even if the effect has worn off. Don't push it!

Every time I see another ibuprofen post on this site I'm like STOP

STOP

Stop.

Take that after a meal. Take it with a big glass of water. Don't take it on an empty stomach EVER. Don't take it with alcohol. You will destroy your stomach. You will end up with an ulcer. You will vomit blood. I'm not exaggerating.

Yes, you. Yes, it will happen to cute little you. With your cute little bottle of miracles. Ibuprofen really does that to your body.

Love, an adult person over 35 who can't take NSAIDs anymore

[atalana]

this is just a vent post you can interact with it or not i don't mind just i gotta put it somewhere

[petpetisy]

Can a Dog Catch Parvo Twice in 2024? Shocking Truth!

Canine parvovirus is a highly contagious and potentially deadly virus. It mainly affects young puppies. Dogs that get over parvo usually build strong immunity. But, new strains can make them sick again. So, can a dog catch parvo twice? It’s important to know how this virus works and its effects on a dog’s immune system. Table of ContentsKey TakeawaysWhat Is Parvo?Susceptible BreedsDuration of…

[that-witch-mata]

Hello my dear friend!

I am Ibrahim from Gaza🍉🇵🇸 I have a baby girl and a sister with Down Syndrome

Asking for help is not easy, so I am asking for a small donation of $20 or $25 from each person.

I need your help if you can donate to save my life and my family's life. My link is in my bio

https://gofund.me/57ddaa99

[moonlight-prose]

i’d love to see your take on #15 from the prompt list: “jealous sex in the alleyway behind the bar” w logan 👀 i’m picturing logan in xmen 1 or 2 specifically 😫

have a cigar

a/n: i am such a fucking sucker for the jealousy trope. especially when he's the idiot who doesn't realize he's the only option. the best one in my opinion. but of course he's got his own hangups and his own issues. so i've thrown a bit of angst in here with the spice. enjoy darling! (the title is based off the pink floyd song which gives massive logan vibes.)

summary: everyone knows who you belong to. if the jacket you wore that left you drowning in the soft leather wasn't indication enough, then the claws attached to your guard dog certainly was.

word count: 3.3k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, possessive logan, violence, tw: blood, animalistic tendencies, cigar smoke, alcohol, harassment, spitting, exhibitionism, p in v sex, rough sex, bruising, choking, logan kinda refers to them as an object (out of love), he's literally unhinged.

The bar reeked of spilled beer and shitty cigarettes. A rock song from the seventies blasted from the speakers—crackling every time the front door was jostled open, another patron stumbling in for a night of fun. Raucous cheers erupted from the corner where four men in leather jackets had taken up residence at a pool table; each one betting higher than the other.

You were perched on a stool. A heavy brown leather jacket wrapped around your body, a half finished whiskey in front of you, and a cigar clutched in your fingers. Neither were yours.

Yet you couldn't help but sip at the drink with a happy sigh, the smoke curling down your hand with a familiar scent that twisted your inside.

For the past ten minutes, you'd been staring at the menu. Trying to discern if ordering the mini plate of nachos was worth it before Logan waltzed back in from the bathroom. He muttered about there being a fucking line due to someone locking the damn stall. But you didn't mind.

Time spent with him was worth sitting here alone.

That is until you heard the telltale familiar scratch of a stool being dragged away—someone sitting to your right with a heavy grunt.

You flinched slightly, turning your back towards them, but their knuckles were already rapping on the bartop. Demanding your attention with another grunt. You could smell the alcohol on their skin, the glaze in their blue eyes as you turned, but that isn't what sent fear curling low in your spine. It was the sleazy grin on their lips.

They wouldn't be taking no for an answer.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doin' sittin' here alone?" he slurred, eyes trailing down your form.

Suddenly wearing the simple sundress for Logan felt like an awful idea. Your stomach turned with nausea as he ogled your body without shame. To him you weren't a person. Fuck you'd be lucky if he even asked for your name before he spewed bullshit about taking you home.

The bartender eyed him with a glare, nodding his head in your direction for some affirmation of safety. He recognized you, knew Logan from the countless times he'd been here, and that left you with some peace to cling to. It wasn't much, but you grasped at it blindly. Offering an awkward smile to appease the victim of Logan's fist when he finally returned.

"I'm with someone." You hated how meek your voice sounded; how small you felt sitting here like prey.

He shrugged, leaning close enough for you to smell the vodka on his breath. "I won't tell if you don't babe."

Heavy boots thumped against the floor and you visibly relaxed in your seat as Logan's form filled your peripheral. He stood stiff at your side, hands curling into fists at the sight of a man practically laying across your lap. Your eyes met his, guilt bleeding into your pupil. Only for anger to fill his. His hand pressed to your back, thumb rubbing into your side softly.

"You got a problem boy?" he snapped.

The man sat up too quickly, his body swaying as he met the guard dog attached to your back. "Just talking to the lady man. Fuck off."

You sighed, feeling Logan's hand freeze. Out of all the mistakes that could be made—that remained the worst. The man had dug his own grave. Logan was merely the executioner tasked with bringing this man to his awaited appointment with death.

Who were you to stand in the way of that?

You slipped off the stool, moving with speed to get out of the way of Logan's claws. Slamming the man against the bartop, he set the blades to his throat. A snarl resonated in the place, forcing everyone to go quiet, as you watched in rapture at the sight of Logan pinning a man. Daring him to move.

He cried in pain, blood dripping from the split open wound in his forehead. But mercy wasn't something Logan gave willingly. You felt his love in the form of wrath. A weight against your chest that you sunk your teeth into with a smile.

He was willing to kill for you.

To spill blood for your lips to curve into a pleased grin.

You were breathless even thinking about it.

"Now," he growled, pressing the man down until he heard the snap of a bone. "Wanna repeat that shit to my face motherfucker?"

"N-No." The scent of copper tinged the air, laying on your tongue. "I'm—fuck—I'm sorry! I didn't know she was yours man."

He lowered his face, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood permeating the air. "Touch her again and it's your arm."

Nodding frantically, you watched as the man practically slid to the floor in a mess of tears. Part of you wanted to feel bad for him. A pathetic soul who couldn't find joy unless it was preying on others. Logan's hand wrapping around the back of your neck is what killed those feelings with a swift slice of an axe. The heat of his touch became an anchor against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Sick, twisted, inhumane. You attempted to label the feelings that catapulted right into your chest at the sight of Logan's red stained fist. There had to be an explanation in the back of your mind. A missing piece as to why you felt such exhilaration in the face of violence.

"Motherfucker," he muttered under his breath, slamming the back door open with his foot, his fingers digging a bit deeper. "Thinks he can take what's mine."

Oh. You liked that.

The click of his lighter and spark of a flame illuminated the shadow of possession that lingered on his face. His eyes watched you, trailed down the form of your body beneath his oversized leather jacket. The soft echo of love was swapped out for something tenebrous—something raw.

"C'mere." He spoke the word as if his hand wasn't still around your neck, leading you into his vicinity.

You stumbled over your own feet, eyes wide with the type of veneration he felt slam into his chest. Such a pretty thing, so lovely and soft for him to caress. To call his.

Perhaps this need to claim you stemmed from an animalistic urge he should have tamped down. He knew he looked like an asshole back in the bar, knew that you weren't a fan of when he got his fists dirty. But the need to sink his teeth into the side of your neck until blood poured into his mouth overtook him on his worst days.

It was fucked to even think about. Harming you, marking you, all to make sure that drunken idiots knew to keep their hands to themselves.

That thought alone was enough to make him feel a hint of disgust over his own fantasies.

Until he smelled it.

Cigar smoke unfurled from his mouth, curling low and falling across your face with a soft brush of air. Your eyes fluttered from the scent, mouth filling with saliva at the thought of him blowing it between your parted lips. All you had to do was ask him—place your hands on his cheeks and press your lips to his. He certainly wouldn't be against kissing you.

But something darker swirled to life in your chest. A hidden truth you felt far too ashamed to reveal that you started to tuck away in the back of your mind.

That didn't stop your scent from growing thick in the air, filling his nose with the sharp tang of your sweetness. He could practically taste it on the tip of his tongue. The ache to see it for himself nearly overwhelmed his body.

Something shifted in the time it took for the both of you to get outside away from the prying eyes inside the bar. Everyone knew you were Logan's. That became clear the second his jacket draped your shoulders—his hand a permanent fixture on your hip as he saw with you at the bar. But seeing him confirm a truth already known.

The spillage of blood was a small price to pay to set his words into stone for those to read. Logan was prepared to do far more than that; the need to bend you over the bar and make you cry those pretty little tears only meant for him growing each time you came here.

"Logan," you murmured, eyes half lidded with lust.

"Yeah you liked that huh sugar."

"I–" What could you say to him? I loved seeing you claim me like an animal in front of everyone. That alone felt too fucking embarrassing to admit out loud.

His thumb pressed into the back of your skull, releasing what tension built up. Moaning softly, you curled your body into his, eyes fluttering shut as he massaged that spot until you purred. You were so pliable under his hold, willing to leap when he said the word, and Logan could feel his cock throb at the sight.

His pretty girl.

"Liked seeing me beat a man cause he touched you." Lips curled into a smirk around his cigar when your mouth parted, breaths coming in harder than before. "You'd let me fuck in front of all of 'em wouldn't ya. Just to show them you're mine."

You went lightheaded, slick pouring out of you, as a soft whine broke through the still night air. Something snapped in your mind at the thought—images of Logan pulling your skirt up and fingering you at the bar. Thoughts of him settling you on his lap to cockwarm him as he smoked his cigar at a table. Entirely at ease with the thought of everyone seeing you leak around him.

They all curled low in your belly, cracking open the door of desires you kept locked shut. Pandora's box was finally about to be pried open and yet all you could think about was his eagerness to show off what belonged to him.

Use me. Mark me. Take me however you want to.

Saying them with a shaky voice and shot nerves would do nothing for that unfathomable throbbing between your legs.

Not when he could see it written across your face with a clarity that should have scared you.

"You're my fuckin' filthy girl aren't ya," he muttered, drawing you close enough to taste the cigar smoke off his lips.

"Uh-huh." The dazed lilt of your words made him smile.

So needy for him even in the proximity of a disgusting alleyway in the back of a bar. How could he resist such sweetness?

His hand moved, closing around your throat, as he plucked the cigar from his lips. "Here's what I'm gonna do sugar." Your open mouth gave him enough leeway to blow the remainder of his smoke past your lips—forcing a gasp past your throat. "'M gonna fuck you right here. And I want you to make them hear it."

"A-Are you sure?"

He smiled, pushing you towards the wall and stubbing his cigar out on the brick. "What? Don't you wanna set those fuckers right?"

Nodding, you let him tug up the hem of your skirt of your dress, fingers delving beneath the lace panties you wore specially for him. With a groan, his eyes fell shut at the feel of you dripping so messily for him. Leaking across his hand even before he pressed the rough calloused pads to your clit—drawing a soft cry from your mouth.

"You get this wet watching me sugar?" he grunted against your cheek, mouth hovering right where you wanted him. "Poor thing. Didn't mean to make ya wait."

"Oh fuck," you gasped, fingers curling into his flannel. "L-Loved seeing you Logan."

He chuckled—degrading yet filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I should fight in front of you more often. Get you nice and ready for me to fuck you whenever I want."

Whatever response you might have been able to form died in the back of your throat. A choking garbled moan of his name pierced the air when two fingers plunged into you knuckle deep. Curling roughly at your walls with a determined flare. This wasn't him trying to get you off. This was him proving he could.

"You hear that? She's singin' for me baby." The wet squelch of his fingers pounding into you left heat blooming beneath your cheeks and down your chest. "Beggin' for my cock."

"Need it Logan–"

A hand hiked your leg up to curl around his hip, lips finally slotting against yours with a stunted groan. Any coherent thoughts you might have had died with his tongue. He licked into you as if he was looking for something. Claimed your mouth with harsh moans and deep hot strokes against the roof of your mouth.

"I'll give it to you," he bit off, sucking your tongue into his mouth until you trembled in his hold.

He was everywhere. Pulling his fingers free and swallowing your whimper, he hoisted you up and shoved you against the wall so hard your back hurt. The pain quickly dwindled into a dull ache when the familiar clink of his belt buckle hit your ears.

Swallowing his harsh growl, you canted your hips against his. The growing heat in your body fanned into a fire you could no longer ignore; his touch echoing with the embers of something disastrous.

You knew you craved him, but this felt like a baseline urge your body couldn't give up. Some neolithic part of your brain that got off on being protected, possessed.

"You've got no idea how badly I wanna give it to ya," he muttered, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. "Gonna drive me fuckin' insane."

"Yes." The word felt diminutive compared to his, but everything else tapered off into garbled moans of his name.

"Already beggin' and I haven't even started." He smiled cruelly, cock sliding through your slickened pussy with a stuttered grunt.

If you were standing, your knees would have buckled. Even now they locked against his waist to keep him from pulling away. Secrets scratched at the nearly open door as he lined himself, fisting his cock with bared teeth and a throaty growl. There became no use in keeping them at bay. Not when Logan shared the fantasy in his own mind—playing it out like a film projected on your heart.

His hand slapped against the brick wall beside your head, the other snuggly resting at your throat. The flutter of your heart pulsed beneath the vein on your neck, directly along the jugular he often nipped and sucked at. The pad of his thumb pressed down against it—tongue swiping at his bottom lip when you moaned. Broken, pitched high enough to bounce off the alleyway walls.

"So pretty when you're needy." His lips caught yours, spit a glossy smear on your chin. "Can't even think straight without it."

You wanted to agree, to tell him you were nothing if you weren't his.

With a snarl pressed into your mouth he sunk into your pussy in one thrust and your mind went numb. You sagged against the wall, a splintered cry resonating in the air when he bottomed out. Your name a harsh groan—his neck strained and eyes squeezed tight.

"Logan," you sobbed loud enough for it to echo back into the bar. You could practically see them sitting there. Eyes wide and they fought the urge to get off to the sound of Logan fucking you within an inch of your life.

Nails scratched along his clothed shoulders in a desperate attempt at getting him closer when he began to pound into you. Hips slapped against yours with each roll of his hips, his hand slowly tightening around your throat. Even now you stared at him with wonder in your eyes. The glimmer he adored finding its way back into your iris as you admired how he looked.

The way his teeth grit together, nostrils flaring as your scent all but drowned him. He was a mythological being who'd come to declare that you had always been his. That this was merely an act of fate; the strings drawing you two together so tight it cut through your skin and bled you dry.

The hand on your throat shifted higher, prying open your mouth. "C'mon baby. Let 'em know who you belong to."

A ragged moan ripped free from the shackles of your chest, your eyes rolling back as his cock brushed against raw bliss. He smiled, forehead pressed to yours and hips shifting to keep the angle. Even when you began to cry loud enough to alert people on the streets Logan refused to give you a chance to breathe.

This wasn't the man you came with. This was the animal buried deep within his heart; the Wolverine snapping at anyone who dared to come near his other half.

"That's it," he bit out. "You gonna be a good fuckin' girl and cum for me?"

"Mm-hm."

He panted against your lips, tongue licking behind your front teeth. "Can feel her chokin' my cock."

You couldn't breathe. Each thrust sent what little air you had out of your lungs in small breathy whines. He fucked into you with abandon until you swore you felt him in your throat—the echo of skin against skin and the scrape of his boots on gravel when he shifted you higher became your gravity.

With a sharp intake of breath, he dropped his hand from the wall to cup your ass. Swiftly dropping you on his cock to force a scream from your mouth. It clawed up your chest, that familiar aching pull in your torso. The burn you clung to as he tipped your head back and messily spit into your open mouth. You swallowed it with a moan, thighs clenching around his hips.

"That's it," he rumbled, thumb finding your pulsing clit with ease. "Give it to me, yeah? Make a fuckin' mess on it."

A harsh thrust sent your head flying to the back of the wall. Logan was quick to slam his hand behind you, giving you a cushion to stop from severely hurting yourself. His mouth sought out yours with a mumble of your name, hips grinding deep as you came apart with a broken shout.

Bliss tore through every nerve in your body; your pussy now coating his throbbing cock in a fresh wave of slick. Logan moaned high and desperate against your tongue, following you quickly. Neither of you could tell if it was from the adrenaline of the fight or taking you out in the open, but he wouldn't stop coming.

"F-Fuck." He gasped, eyes rolling back as his head tipped. He filled you so much you could feel it leaking out, dripping down your thighs and coating the front of his jeans.

A nasty thought of dropping to your knees and licking the fabric clean filled your head—your walls spasming around him hard enough to make him hiss in pain. You quickly stored it away for later. When the feeling eventually returned to your legs.

"I think they know not to touch what's mine now," he mumbled, stealing a chaste kiss as he rubbed a soothing shape in your hip.

"Logan." He cupped your chin, lips curling into a dopey smile that bled warmth into your chest. "Take me home?"

His nose nudged yours in an act so gentle you nearly forgot how he fucked you a minute prior. "Sure thing sweetheart. Kiss?"

You grinned, eyes still shimmering with that love-struck awe; he felt it clench around his heart. "Well come here baby."

In the dark of the alley his lips found yours, sealing the deal of fate with the fulfillment of a life spent in each other's arms.