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kamitv · 2 months ago

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Your best friend Sukuna is also a complete pervert.

The guy just won’t stop jerking off in your bedroom! The first time you caught him, you thought he’d stop considering how that only resulted in you using that filthy mouth of yours to milk him for all he’s worth. And yet… here you are walking into your bedroom to find Sukuna fisting his fat cock again.

It’s funny because now you officially note that not only is he a slut but, your best friend Sukuna is a pervert. As if that wasn’t obvious from the first time.

Standing with his stocky tattooed back facing you, this time unaware of your early arrival into your shared apartment, Sukuna’s busy groaning into a pair of your panties—pressing the flimsy red fabric up against his greedy nose and jerking his cock further into his fist with each inhale he takes.

“S-Shiiit,” This is the only time you ever hear the man stutter. To which he follows up with a whorish moan as his eyes travel to the back of his skull. “I fuckin’ need you-, agh.”

You’d think that anyone in your situation would’ve reacted to this by now but instead you just stand there and watch him for a bit, wondering how long he’ll get off like this until he realizes you’re there.

His cock is lathered in spit and cum, indicating that he’s been in your room for a while now, and you can hear the creamy shhlick that follows his every jerky hand movement. Then comes his groans—you’ve always thought they were the prettiest thing. Deep and husk, an underlining rasp carrying within that throaty sound of pleasure… yeah, he’s always been a slut.

But this? Oh this is a new level for him. Because not only is he getting off to your scent but he’s also lulling his tongue out to press it against the spread of the lacy garment, licking up whatever remains of your taste and moaning at the flavor that hits his needy tongue.

The moan he let out sent a shiver of pure arousal down your spine and straight to your core. His moans are so rare but god does it get you worked up every single time.

And it’s in watching him for a few minutes longer that you realize you had those very same panties on just the other day—something about him licking and sniffing all over something you’d just worn makes your thighs clench together and a puddle of arousal builds up within your current pair.

Sukuna still has yet to realize you’re standing there watching him since he’s lost in his own little world so, he soon tugs your panties away from his face with a very faint whine and messily wraps the fabric around his throbbing cock. Now that was a sight for sore eyes.

His jaw falls open and you can only see just the side of his face but his cheeks are reddened and his eyelashes are fluttering. There’s a vein popping out along his jawline, showing just how tense and needy he is as he starts bucking his hips forward and fucks his plump cock against the fabric of your underwear.

Hunching forward a little, his free hand grips onto your nightstand and he’s letting out all kinds of groans and grunts—searing out a low rasp of your name as his body heats up at just the thought of you.

Sukuna can’t help but imagine what you’d think if you caught him like this, how pathetic he probably seems right now, how desperate. Oh, but he just can’t help it. Ever since you caught him, his perverted side has only gotten worse.

The same panties he’s jerking off with right now are the same ones you wore exactly three days ago. He knows that because you were wearing shorts that day and he couldn’t help the way his eyes fell onto the slutty curve of your ass as a peek of red popped out from your shorts while you bent over to pick something up.

The moment you were out of his sight that day, he jerked off to the thought of you until his hand cramped up. Then there were the flashbacks from when your mouth was on him—the way you looked on your knees, how perfectly his cock slotted into the back of that slutty throat of yours, and how stupidly gorgeous you were with teary eyes and gurgled moans of his names slipping from your lips.

So lost in these same thoughts again, Sukuna doesn’t register the fact that you’ve finally called his name and made your presence known until he feels that soft hand of yours gently press against his shoulder blade.

A whine, crisp and unfiltered comes flying past his lips before he can even try to hold it back and then his darkened-, no, weakened maroon eyes are falling on you and—

“‘Kuna,” You purr, to which he cums into your panties without even trying to hold himself back. “I thought I told you about jerking off in my bedroom?”

His eyes nearly cross with how good his orgasm feels crashing over him, hot ‘n thick spurts of cum gushing from his reddened cockhead before you move your arms to wrap around his waist. Sukuna can’t even keep up with you until it’s too late, suddenly your hands are meeting his tip and you squeeze, preventing him from cumming anymore.

Some obscene sound he didn’t realize he was capable of making exits his whiny throat and his eyes widen beyond belief. “O-Oh my—,” Sukuna just chokes on words, body stilling in an overflow of pleasure for a great deal of reasons, all pertaining to you. “F-Fuuck, let.. h-ha-ah, let me cum,” He’s sputtering out, brain and body malfunctioning.

You flash a pout to mock him, “Should I? Even after you’ve been such a perv? I mean, sneaking into my room again, jerking off with my underwear… I dunno if I should let you do anything after all this.”

His body folds forward a bit but your grip on him doesn’t falter. “Please?” Sukuna chokes, although this time his voice is small—like the word kills him to utter, “I’ll…” He gasps a bit as your grip looses, “I’ll be so fuckin’ good from now on.”

“Promise?” You say in a sly whisper.

Sukuna feels like he can’t even breathe anymore, “P-Promise,” He utters, feeling your grip loosen entirely and watching as he finishes right into your palms. “Fuuuck..”

It’s a big sloppy mess that’s left in your hands as you stroke him through it from behind, going as far as planting these cute lil’ kisses against the dark ink on his back. Sukuna’s head spins and he can’t even begin to fathom the true chokehold you seem to have on him.

He’s never been like this for anyone. Sure, he’s known you for years and you’ve been by his side no matter how much of a dick he’s been to you or other people but, surely that doesn’t warrant the affection he’s beginning to harbor for you.

Perhaps he’s just confusing it with lust. Yeahh, that’s it. Sukuna doesn’t like you or anything, he just wants to fuck you. And okay, maybe there’s a hidden desire deep within to be kinder to you if it means he gets to feel you pressing such sweet kisses against his hot skin more often…

Hell, by the time he finally stops making a mess of your hands, he’s just letting out these quiet pants of pure embarrassment. Glaring off to the side with that brat-like pout on his face, ‘hating’ every second of this.

Especially as you push up on your toes and kiss behind his ear, moving to whisper, “What’s this? Sukuna, are you… embarrassed?”

God, he can’t stand you. Ignoring your teasing entirely, Sukuna reaches over for some tissues to help you clean your hands off and as soon as that’s done, he quickly stumbles his bulky body away from you.

Your best friend is such a large man and yet he jerks off to you in a way that makes you wonder if he’d let you literally walk all over him.

Tucking his indecency back into his sweats, he’s yet to utter a single word to you. Part of him is worried that his voice will come out in a pitch that’s rather foreign to how he typically speaks but, he’ll never tell you that.

No, instead, he just clears his throat and tries to go as far as exit your bedroom.

You scoff, “I know you’re not leaving after all that.”

On instant, as if there was some kind of underlying command in your statement and he was nothing more than some big dog heading to the unspoken heel, Sukuna halts in his tracks. “…And if I am?” He finally manages out, voice an entire octave lower than you expected it to be.

Your arms cross and you frown at him. “So, you come in my bedroom while I’m not here, jerk off with my panties, cum in my hands, barely clean me up, and then leave?”

He’s quiet for a lengthy second or two before returning to his usual cocky demeanor, glancing back at you and smirking. “Yeah,” Sukuna hums nonchalantly—as if he wasn’t moaning like a bitch a few seconds ago & knowing damn well if you told him to get down on his knees for you right now, his body would obey your every word without second thought.

You make this expression that lets him know you’re annoyed but for some reason, that only makes his heart throb weirdly. Then you look away and oh he misses your glaring eyes on him already.

“Unless,” He continues in an attempt to gain both your attention and the control of the situation again. “You wanted something from me?”

Unintentionally giving him what he wants, you spare him another glance—your gaze firm. “An apology maybe.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders.

Sukuna chuckles, “For what?”

You blink. “Jerking off in here after I asked you not to.”

“Oh.” You can’t stand it when he acts like this because next comes the most monotone & emotionless voice he can muster as he mocks your facial expression and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Your face twists up even further in irritation and his cock twitches as you scoff, “The fuck was that?”

Sukuna bites back a smile, “An apology, obviously.”

“A bullshit one, yeah.” You bite back, crossing your arms over one another, “Get over here and apologize to me properly.”

He would put it on his own life that he hates everything about you right now because the way in which his body moves without hesitation is concerning. Sukuna’s walking closer to you before he even realizes, soon towering over you and staring down into your eyes as indifferently as he can.

As if the genuine annoyance and frustration on your face wasn’t making his cock stiffen again…

Your best friend narrows his eyes a bit, “What kinda ‘proper apology’ do you want from me—“

“Get on your knees.” You cut off.

Sukuna’s breath hitches but he hopes you don’t notice it (you do). Scoffing, and acting like he hasn’t pictured this very moment before, he slowly lowers down onto his knees before you and when he looks up…

Well, from this angle you get the perfect view of his cock poking up against his sweats, the sight making you smile—he just got off a few minutes ago and yet here he is hard again just because you ordered him around a bit.

You loom a bit closer to him and move your foot in between his legs, tapping the side of his knee and motioning for him to spread his legs a bit more. Sukuna hates the way his thighs part so obediently wider for you, allowing you to have enough space to stand in between them.

A smile sparks across your face, “You look kinda cute from this angle, y’know.”

He groans, “Shut up ‘n tell me how you want me to apologize already.”

Suddenly your foot is felt pressing against his throbbing bulge and his hips shift forward on instinct. You were… lightly stepping on his erection. Sukuna feels like he’s getting high off of you again and you were still barely even doing anything.

“Can you put your hands behind your back for me?” You request next.

To which he mentally says ‘hell no’ and peers up at you as if you were crazy, “What the fuck does that have to do with an—“

“You wanna make things up to me, don’t you?”

His lips seal shut but you can see a vein popping out in his forehead. He’s so annoyed and flustered that it angers him. Swatting his hands behind his back, Sukuna cocks his head to the side and glares hard, “Now what.”

Your hand meets his chin and you tip his head further up before pulling out your phone, “Say cheese!”

His eyes widen, “You—“

Before he can get out whatever string of curses you’re sure he had for you, you’ve taken over thirty pictures of your best friend on his knees, with his hands behind his back, and your foot stepping on his cock—which you felt angrily twitch from the moment you pulled your phone out until suddenly something wet met your skin.

Looking down as soon as you’re done taking as many pictures as you could before he smacked your phone away, you end up scoffing. “Sukuna, did you just…” Your voice dies off as you bring a hand up over your mouth.

His left eye twitches and his entire face is beat red, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“You just came again. From that??” You make fun of him anyway, taking in the mix of different emotions swirling all through his face.

There’s no change in his usual rough tone but his eyes appear as though he might be serious as he says, “I’m giving you five seconds to run.”

You start laughing so hard in his face that you can’t help but stumble back and plop down on your bed, giggling until you lose your breath. The sound of your laughter makes Sukuna want to smash his head against a wall—he hates you so much.

So much so that he soon comes staggering up to his feet and looms closer to you as you writhe in amusement. It’s not until your laughing comes to a stop that you realize he’s just standing over you with a ticked off look on his face.

As you catch your breath, you sit up at the edge of your bed and you’re suddenly reminded of the sheer size difference between you two. Sure, you just had him on his knees for you but fuck is he huge—you almost forgot.

Batting your lashes, your smile slowly fades, “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“You’ve been making fun of me and teasing me all day,” Sukuna rasps, leaning down and pressing his palms into the bed beside your thighs. His face gets awfully close to yours, “You think I like being like this? ‘Think I like the way my body reacts to your every fuckin’ word?”

He sounds angry but he’s.. confessing? In a way?

“I can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you…” He trails off with a groan as he leans down and presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your head instinctively lifts and you feel him inhale strongly. “The way you smell,” Sukuna finishes, moving a careful hand to your thigh and squeezing lightly, “The way you feel.”

You're the one gasping now, lashes fluttering at the need radiating off of his body as he nuzzles into you, “Sukuna, I—“

“The way you fuckin’ sound,” He practically growls his words out this time, “I know you heard me earlier when I said I need you.”

He pulls away just to look you in the eyes. His other hand meets your vacant thigh and you feel him gently parting your legs, “So tell me, do you still want an apology or do you jus’ want me to show you how bad I want you?”

Scoffing, “I think I have a good idea but,” Your eyes wander off for a second and Sukuna knows exactly where this is going, you did the same thing last time before you ended up in between his legs. “How about this; if I let you fuck me, will you finally stop jerking off in my room?” You end up offering as your gaze finds him once more.

Sukuna merely nods, even though his entire body felt a desperate shudder at the prospect of finally being inside you. Feeling you around him, hearing your moans clearly, watching the way your face twists up in pleasure, and being able to drag his touch all over your body?

He probably would've came again right then and there if it wasn't for his past few abrupt back-to-back orgasms.

And with that, your best friend leans up and trails a hand down to his sweatpants, flashing a knowing smirk down at you, “Depends on how well you take my cock.”

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blythesarchives · 5 months ago

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Manhandle. | L.H

summary: Feral-ish Logan is obsessed with you.

a/n: I will die on the hill that Logan loves his partners a little chubby. Idc. I didn't have the patience to edit this ignore mistakes pleaseee. Reposted after deleting, reprised a little bit but I didn't bother to edit it so ignore mistakes. ;; wc: 2.4k

Logan cannot stand you for one reason and one reason alone: You drive him crazy.

Why the fuck are you so soft? Why do your hips sway so much? Why are you so doe eyed and sweet smelling?

His cock twitches in his pants as he sees you talking to another mutant. Fuck. He doesn't like it. He wants you for himself. He needs you for himself.

That's exactly what he does.

He grabs you and tugs you along, you of course go with him, being so sweet and naïve...when you're alone, he practically rips your clothes off. He normally would tease and play with you more, but he can't help himself. He's too eager, his patience is diminished.

Your soft gasp when he tore the fabric from your body made his balls grow heavy and a low growl rumble out of him. You were beautiful to him, your body drove him crazy. He felt hotter than normal, like he was going to die if he didn't have you. You made the most pathetic sound when his hand pushed between your legs and felt your soft folds, his calloused fingertips finding that sweet little pearl. "Fuckin' wet for me...from rippin' y'r clothes off, huh? You like it like this? Bein' manhandled?"

You felt your face heat up and your legs trembled, threatening to give out at any second. You stammered, unable to come up with a solid reply as you pathetically tried while his thick fingers explored your folds confidently. They prodded your entrance, making you tense a bit.

"Y'r tight, my damn finger has a hard time gettin' in here...how are you gonna handle my cock, princess?" he grabbed your face with his free hand, tilting your head up as he kissed you. His lips were warm, the taste of cigar and whiskey on them, a hint of salt and jerky. You melted into his kiss, even though he was claiming you this way. His tongue pushed into your mouth, invading you and exploring every inch as if he owned you. His teeth gently bit your bottom lip, he didn't want to overwhelm you too much, not yet anyway.

"That's it...whimperin' for me...you love this, I can tell by how wet you are. Can't imagine my cock in there...it's so tiny...have you ever been fucked before?" he grunts deeply in your ear, the sound making your entire body react as you shake. Your nipples erect and feeling stimulated by the fabric of his shirt as he stands close enough to rub against you.

"Logan...I...mmn, I have I just...-"

"You've never been with me baby, I'll show ya what a real man can do. I know when y'r fakin' too, you won't have to do that with me." He chuckled, his hand moving away from your dripping core and he grabbed your plush hips, lifting you up while his hands massages and groped the meat of your ass and thighs. "Goddamn...these things..." He threw you onto his bed, his hand on your belly for a moment, kneading you.

"Logan-!"

"I gotcha...just let me take care of you..." Logan's voice was gentle, but he sounded slightly condescending as he spoke to you, the clear teasing undertone made you whimper in response. His hands pawed at you like a man who had seen a naked woman for the first time, on your breasts, sides, hips. Hs grabbed your thighs again, eagerly holding onto your flesh and spreading your legs apart for him. "Such a fat cunt you have, looks comfy, you'll treat my dick well won't you, sweet thing? Perfect little home for it...that's where it belongs isn't it? You're lost without my dick in you."

You squirmed below him, feeling vulnerable and exposed as he held you down. You couldn't deny how hot your pussy felt, you wanted to demand for him to stick it in, to just fuck you into the mattress, but you also didn't want to admit it, playing the game a bit. Besides, Logan was clearly enjoying how you were acting, so you kept it up.

"Ah...please..." You begged lightly, your legs falling limp and allowing him to open them wider. You felt so horny by now, Logan had a way of bringing it out of you. Your core felt like it was on fire, and you needed his touch more than air.

He placed open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, his teeth grazing the thin skin and biting your flesh teasingly. You could feel the slick, warm muscle of his tongue barely touch your sensitive skin as he continued to knowingly tease you. After his painfully slow movements, he finally got to your center, his pupils blown like he was on drugs.

Logan growled deeply, exhaling through slightly parted lips as his hands came around and held your thighs tightly. His head lowered, nose nudged your clit as this man took a deep inhale of your sex. Your face heated immediately, suddenly feeling embarrassed he was smelling you so intensely. His nose buried, your wetness covering it as he investigated further into you until he was satisfied memorizing your scent.

When he pulled up, he barely pulled away for you to say something about his little display and his lips latched onto your clit, knowing exactly where it was after mapping out your cunt mentally. He was torn between making you squirm and beg, or just taking what he wanted. You were intoxicating to him, he hadn't felt his cock throbbing to painfully before, patience was not an option right now.

You made the sweetest sound for him when his encased your clit in his mouth, his lips securing around that pretty pearl and he lightly sucked on it. His firm hands held you still while you naturally squirmed around from the stimulation, keeping you down even when you tried to buck into his mouth more. Logan pulled back enough for his breath to warm your swollen bud, and he grunted, "Stay still. You don't get to move. I'll make you cum, I'll decide when you've had enough."

The tiny whimper that left your trembling lips was enough encouragement, but he wanted to push a little more. So, the smug bastard leaned up and over you, glaring down, his wet lips shining against the dull light of the room peering through his always drawn curtains. Still, when the warm sunlight did peek through, he looked gorgeous.

"Say it. Say you understand."

"I...I understand..." you swallowed the thick lump in your throat, not realizing how tight it felt until you spoke again. He smirked down at you, his eyes raking over your form and he let his hands knead your body a bit more. "So soft...perfect for me. I can really throw you around hm? You can take it..." he groaned as he felt your body, his hands moving up to your breasts and holding them, massaging and pinching your nipples like an eager virgin.

Logan moved down again, his mouth drooled as he took your clit once more, his tongue lapping and teasing the bud before dipping inside your entrance. He tasted you, groaning like an animal at your taste as his tongue went deeper. You hooked your leg around his shoulder and pulled him closer, finding a loophole in keeping your hips still.

Luckily for you, he enjoyed it enough to allow it.

"Stop squirmin' princess...I've almost gotcha ready." He continued to work your pussy until he felt like you were ready enough. He pulled away and licked his lips, "Now...open those pretty lips." he swiped his fingers over your folds and then held them to your pouty face. "You're such a dirty girl...doing everything I say, aren't you?"

He lightly spanked your pussy, then pressed his dick into your folds and rubbed to slicken himself. When did he take his pants off?

You were interrupted when his fat head poked your entrance, forcing you to stretch out around the soft flesh and allow him in. You mewled desperately, the burn of it was so addicting. "Lo...Logan..!"

"Shh, sh, you can take it." he whispered and pushed until his head popped inside. You gasped, just his head made you feel dizzy. And he kept going.

Inch after inch.

You were squirming and crying softly, he was so big, ugh it felt amazing but overwhelming all at once. "L-Lo..Logan, I..aah," you blabbered, his thumbs swiped your temples as he chuckled down at you, his body keeping you warm. He pressed his scruffy cheek into yours so he could whisper to you while his hips rocked against you, his wet head smacking gentle, sloppy kisses to your swollen cervix.

"Shh, good girl, gooood girl," he praised you in a low, soothing tone, his voice contradicting what his body was doing to you. You felt like you were on fire, pleasure was shooting through every inch of you while that delightful burn remained as strong as ever. "Y'r doin' good...so good. Takin' all of me inside ya...knew you could."

Logan's hips moved faster inside you, driving himself in and out at a much better pace for the both of you. He held your legs up and watched himself move in and out of you, admiring the beautiful arousal that coated into his curls. He deliberately made slow, long thrusts so you could feel the mold of his cock perfectly.

Every vein, the spongy head, how his cock formed your velvet walls and made you adjust.

It was everything you could've wanted from him.

While you memorized the shape of his dick, he suddenly threw your legs around his waist and he leaned over you, causing your hips to come up and off the bed a little. He began to drive himself inside at an animalistic, rough pace while he held you. His teeth bared as he let out the deepest snarl you ever heard from him. "You make me fuckin' wild, baby...look what y'r doin'...I'm actin' like how I should. A fuckin' animal."

You sobbed lightly from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, his cock hitting that delicious spongy spot inside that made you see stars. "Logan!! M'gonna cum...!" you cried, your fists balling the sheets by your head as you let out all your little sounds you tried to hide.

There was no reason to hide them anymore, honestly.

He kept going just as he was, knowing his movements and pace were perfect for you. "That's it...yeah baby, cum on my cock, show me how much you like it, milk my cock." Logan held your hips firm, his fingers dug into your flesh as he focused on his thrusts, driving deeper and deeper.

You finally let out a strangled cry, your vision blurring as your body released around him, clamping down on his dick like a vice and almost messing up his rhythm. Logan hissed, "G-goddamn-"

"I'm cumming, fuck! Don't stop, keep going, keep fucking me!" you screamed desperately, reaching you and clawing his shoulder blades, your hips rocking against his thrusts as your mind just focused on riding out your orgasm for as long as possible. He moved with you until he finally let loose, one single thrust in and his cock swelled and exploded against your pretty cervix, spraying his cum inside and filling up your little hole. He dripped out of you as he continued to fill you up, cum squeezing past his cock plugging your pussy, but the sheer amount of it couldn't be contained completely.

Logan's chest rose and fell quickly, his skin in a thin sheen from sweat, as was yours, and you both stilled as you regained your breaths together. You were in a complete daze, your mind foggy from pleasure and good hormones, his dick still buried inside you and felt so right.

"Good girl...fuck, my girl." he grumbled and nudged your head to the side with his own, kissing your jaw. "Did so well...down we go, easy," he lowered your legs while speaking to you gently, pulling himself from your body and watching as his cum flowed out of you. You whined at the absence of him, he just tsked and shushed you.

"Ah, don't give me that...we have to get you cleaned up. Be good for me, and I'll make sure you're nice and cozy after." Logan chuckled at your dazed expression, lifting you up a bit and smirking at how you whined into him.

"Logan....noo, just a little longer..." You pleaded lightly, trying your best to convince him, but he was not going to give in. Instead he picked you up with ease, your weight didn't bother him in the slightest, and he carried you to the bathroom.

"Clean first, then we can lay all you want." He set you down in the bathroom, knowing you were very exhausted by now and most likely coming down from your orgasm high, so he made the clean up quick. His touches were gentle, carefully washing the rag over your body and between your legs, getting all the sticky cum washed away. He stood behind you and kissed the nape of your neck, giving you goosebumps even under the hot water. "Doin' good for me...keep it up, we're almost done princess..."

When you were finally finished, you were so relieved to lay on the clean bed. Your body was much more worn out than you thought, before you collapsed, your legs trembled and almost refused to hold you up. You snuggled into the sheets, smelling heavily of Logan plus a hint of the earthy cologne he rarely wears.

He joined you a few minutes later, his strong arms wrapped around you and held you close. His hand slowly caressed up and down your side, gently squeezing and massaging you. His presence and the tiredness hit you after cleaning, and the drop of hormones made you want to sleep. Your body turned towards him, your face burying in his chest as you let out a shaky breath.

"Easy...I gotcha...sleepy girl. Go on and take a nap, I'll stick with ya until you wake...promise." He kissed the crown of your head and held you firmly against him, knowing you were going to fall asleep any second. You drove him so wild but he also felt a strong need for you in other ways. He wanted you for himself in every shape and form, you were so beautiful, and he would make sure you believed it and saw yourself as he did.

If he couldn't convince you with words, well...he can always fuck you again and make you see.

Thanks for reading - em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

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livecrow · 2 months ago

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Imagine Ghost, cranky and stir-crazy from being holed up in some hotel when a mission went sideways, being an absolute freak after getting an eyeful of the fat little housekeeper

It's completely innocuous. You're just making the bed, and he fucking stares. Eyes tracking your every tiny movement as you strip the sheets and set out a bundle of fresh bedlinens.

Stares like the vending machine peppered beef jerky he's currently mangling between jagged incisors, isn't what he'd actually like in his scarred mouth.

Not an ounce of shame as he lounges in his seat and chews, jaw working. Ski mask bunched awkwardly at his nose. He's never without it. The mask. He's been haunting the place for weeks now, looking like some B-movie horror slasher, even while he's doing something as banal as hauling a load of darks from the guest laundry.

The first time he kicked your doorstop loose, letting the door shut heavily while you were in the middle of servicing his room, you nearly had a heart attack. Clutching your spray bottle of lemon all-purpose disinfectant for dear life.

He just plops down into the cheap, stiff armchair with a groan, seemingly oblivious to your alarm, as it creaks under his impressive mass. A languid stretch rolling through him—across his wide shoulders, down his back, allll the way down to his thick, muscled thighs.

"'Allway's drafty, innit, sweet'eart?"

You get the distinct impression the question is rhetorical.

...Glancing off to your right was a mistake.

You were trying to keep him in your field of vision as you pulled on each starched corner of the fitted sheet. You'd thought keeping your gaze low would have been easier to bear than meeting those impossibly dark, probing eyes of his again—

He's hard as a fucking lance underneath those dark sweatpants.

Your fingers quiver as you smooth the wrinkles in the top sheet, breath stuttering in your throat.

It's worse, far more discontenting, than even last time. When you caught a reflective glimmer dancing across your peripheral. When he flicked open a fucking knife and proceeded to idly pick the clotted dirt out of the treads of his boots. "Apologizing" for tracking in such a mess for you to clean up.

He did it before you vacuumed, so there's that.

You don't understand it at all. Management and the front desk are practically his accomplices. They've adjusted your board to reflect your new "schedule." You're constantly fetching him this and that; are practically at his beck and call.

Extra towels. More coffee. Another roll of toilet paper—

...As if you're supposed to pretend that all the little cupboards and drawers in his room aren't already stocked full of yesterdays and the day before's extras you'd given him.

That's while you're already assigned to service his room every day. Not regular turndown—oh no, a full, completely superfluous daily clean.

You can't help but feel like you are being served up to him, like—like one of the rooms "amenities". Something consumable and complimentary, like a fucking dinner mint—

...at least he tips well.

#crow writes #thinking about making something similar in an extended fic #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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anony-man · 7 months ago

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Chubformers drabble #109!

Characters: Cyclonus & Tailgate (IDW)

Word count: 1.4k

There was nothing better than a good round of relaxing yoga after a long hour of strenuous exercise, said no one ever. Except maybe Drift, or even Cyclonus, who had become rather obsessed with getting himself back into working order as of late. Tailgate wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about, but he had to admit, he was starting to like it… the nice fat aft poised inches from his face, that is.

He wasn’t much for exercise regimens when the only things he was built to do were limited to his core uses, and that wasn’t a can of ener-worms the minibot was about to pop open. Still, he hadn’t passed on the chance to join his conjux in reaching out to their old CMO’s beloved partner after their not-so-pleasant annual trip to the medibay.

They were at peace now, which meant settling in for the long haul. Of course they were going to gain a bit of weight! Tailgate had expressed this countless times to Cyclonus, who had merely glowered at the reflection in the mirror while pinching at the fat on his frame with rough fingers every time.

This wasn’t like him, he’d say, picking at the piled up plate of food during their shared refueling sessions. He wasn’t built to carry all of this excess weight. Autobot or no, he had still been something bigger, something more powerful, a time before. He could hardly stand to look at himself anymore and witness the major damage just a few months of rest had done to his slim frame.

If you asked Tailgate, all that talk was nothing more than a pile of scrap. What was there to criticize? Cyclonus was finally settling in for a life of peace, and Tailgate was right there with him. So what if they gained a little here and softened a little there?

Cyclonus cared, though, and cared deeply. If getting back into shape is what he wanted, then Tailgate would do anything everything to make it happen—all while loving on that perfectly plump frame of his, of course.

A bit of intel from First Aid meant reaching out to Ratchet who talked with his conjux, and from there, the two bots found themselves the private members of workout sessions with Drift. Tailgate did what he could to join in, but it was almost impossible to focus on straining his small body when Cyclonus was bent over in front of him.

Stretching was just as much of a struggle as the exercising had been, given their long hiatus from running for their lives or clinging to the tendrils of existence. With years of experience in stony fronts under his belt, the condensation covering Cyclonus’ frame and the tremble of jiggling thighs almost went unnoticed… but not by Tailgate—not by a long shot.

“Focus on aligning your intakes with the rhythm of your spark,” Drift was explaining, his arms thrown up in a gentle arc over his helm. “Breathe in… and breathe out. Try to touch the tips of your pedes, then relax…”

Tailgate didn’t have to be told twice, as the air left his chest all at once in a startled wheeze when that perfect pear shape bent in half. Sculpted thighs had grown twice their size in their off-time, and with every jerky movement of his conjux’s frame, those fat masses of metal and mesh scraped together, the constant chafe producing the slightest of sounds.

He was happy to support Cyclonus’ journey towards regaining his strength and endurance. Really, he was. However, Tailgate would have been lying if he said he wasn’t secretly dreaming of slotting his helm between the negative space between those legs and begging Cyclonus to squeeze.

Drift was leading them into downward dog now, and Tailgate tried to copy their movements. He watched Cyclonus carefully, his intake catching in his throat as the plump mech bent low and stuck his aft to the sky.

Primus, what Tailgate wouldn’t give to call it a day and drag them both off to their quarters. He was practically famished now, starved of those thighs locked around his face. Popping his interface array open in the middle of their exercising was probably frowned upon, but he almost couldn’t take it.

He wanted—no, needed—to bury his face in the fatty buildup of that soft pouch on the ex-Con’s belly. Proper mouth be damned, he wanted to drown himself in the lubricants of that valve while his helm was crushed between those thighs.

He needed… yes, he needed Cyclonus to bury him under the weight of his frame. He wanted to feel those plump aft cheeks against his face, and he wanted to run his servos over the soft mesh of those thighs, and he wanted to nuzzle his helm into to rolls of that belly.

It was all he could do to not outright ogle that aft. Tailgate tried to catch a peek of Drift from over his conjux’s shoulder, but the longer he stared, the harder it became not to give up and go back to admiring the jiggle of those fat aft cheeks as he struggled to hold his pose.

“Remember to breathe,” Drift chimed in again, his voice gentle. “Relax into the pose and breathe… in—“

He could hear Cyclonus’ shaky intake, the tremble of his frame drawing Tailgate’s attention right back to that aft and those thighs.

“—and out—“

Click!

…frag. Ohhh, frag.

Tailgate fell to his mat with a squeal, his concentration broken by the sound of his array. In an attempt to save face, he rushed to cover up the exposed mess of the built up tension behind previously closed panels he’d tried so hard to hide. Unfortunately for Tailgate, there was only so much that scrambling to his pedes and holding both servos in front of the dribbling tip of his spike could do to hide the fact that he had most definitely been eyeing his conjux’s fat aft instead of joining in on the exercising.

“Sorry!” he managed to say in the middle of snatching up his towel and scurrying for the door. “Sorry, so sorry!”

While Drift sat in place with a confused frown, Cyclonus was already reaching for his own towel and glaring over his shoulder at the poor minibot with a poorly concealed blush. He didn’t dare speak, especially not when Tailgate was running this way and that, an incoherent blabber of apologies following his attempts at cleaning up and hauling his aft out the door at the speed of light.

Tailgate, at least, had enough sense left in him to head straight for their quarters to deal with… well, this. He’d leave Cyclonus to do the talking with Drift over their next scheduled exercise session, or yoga session, or whatever the hell it was they had planned with his conjux that got him so wound up.

He really couldn’t help himself, especially when Cyclonus looked so fragging hot. How could he not admire a frame like that, especially when it was perched mere inches from his face?

As he stumbled out the door, his towel hanging limply from his servos and only partially covering the embarrassment of popped panels poking up from underneath, he could hear Drift’s hesitation following him in a tentative request at their next possible meetup.

“Um…” the swordsmech began, sounding as though he were trying very hard not to bring up what had just happened. “Same time tomorrow?”

He didn’t stick around long enough to hear Cyclonus’ response, but really, he didn’t need to. Another round of intensive yoga meant getting a front row seat to the beauty of that mech’s stretched frame, and despite his little oopsie today, Tailgate wasn’t about to pass up on that opportunity.

Another round with Drift sounded promising, and the minibot was already figuring out just what he would say to convince Cyclonus to let him join again. First things first, though, as he still had to figure out how to take care of his current predicament, too. The solution to that was a simple one, though, and one involving a little bit of private time in their habsuite and a lot of that perfectly jiggly aft settling down onto his face.

If Cyclonus wanted to strengthen up and get back into shape, Tailgate was all for helping him get there. Still, that didn’t come without its own conditions… and the horny little minibot was more than happy to make sure they came to an agreement.

#chubformers #valveplug #idw cyclonus #idw tailgate #cygate #anon man writes

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toshio · 9 months ago

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I wanna get even half the chest and body that you have. I know you said you basically just did push ups so I was wondering if you had any specifics. How often? How many?

Gonna use you as inspiration lmao

hey anon! i know it sounds CRAZY simple but yeah. literally just push ups at home on your carpet or hard wood floor will DO IT. whatever you find comfortable. i think pecs are SURPRISINGLY easy to get, and gay men and straight women love a nice set of boobies on a man, they really give you that "macho" look LOL so definitely try for it. you can probably get some smol but fierce tiddies in about a year.

gonna do a [read more] so i can yap to you in full detail:

if you're a complete beginner, start with like 10 push ups, if you think that's nothing and you're not fatigued yet, do more than that, like 20. keep doing that until you can do an insane amount of push ups and then stop when you start getting tired/failure. do that daily. the more the better. you can take some rest days, on those days you can like walk or jog or something to get more lean. if you consider yourself slightly overweight, definitely walk/jog daily.

and when you do push ups, make sure they're not half assed. like, when you see that skinny guy in your gym class going REALLY fast but stupidly out of form, that's probably doing nothing but injuring him LOL. go on youtube or look up an article about push ups, there are lots of evidence that prove you can get boobies with them. i learned pretty much everything from online btw, go on youtube and just look up how to get pecs at home if you're too cheap for a gym membership (like me. i don't have a gym membership)

here's a random image i found on google, don't worry about any of this other stuff in the picture for now. just do regular push ups for now and you should have results. but another thing i'm leaving out is obviously you need to eat right. try to eat like 0.7-0.8 grams of protein per pound of body weight. some protein rich foods you can eat are stuff like chicken/beef/pork/fish daily (with rice) or low fat greek yogurt, beef jerky, and buy some protein shakes at the store. almost anything protein tastes nasty to me btw but beauty is pain.

also some life hacks because my fat ass (and lazy ass) loves fast food/eating out in general, go to panda express and just get a bunch of chicken and broccoli LOL that shit has so much protein and it tastes good. goddamn. basically just consume meat daily for gains.

also ONE more thing in terms of eating [moderately] healthy (i still don't eat healthy but i try) stop drinking soda, stop drinking alcohol, stop doing drugs, just drink nothing but water, green tea, any tea you want, just make sure it has no sugar. if you crave sugar, get diet soda like diet coke (it's 0 calories) but avoid drinking too much of that because aspartame.

THIS IS A LOT OF INFORMATION but i get asked about stuff like this a lot so hopefully this is enough. LOL. i'll get asked again probably haha but oh well. and again i'm not a fitness expert, just an enthusiast. good luck. remember anon, BEAUTY IS PAIN. and youth is only temporary, so you might as well look sexy before you get old.

#HERE COMES THE YAPPER #enjoy my unsolicited fitness advice #i'm not even a bodybuilder btw but i'm glad you guys keep coming to me for advice #definitely take everything i say with a grain of salt. i'm not claiming to be an expert #do your own research but most of this stuff is just me swallowing my own knowledge back at you and i double checked everything haha #SO YEAH

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baron-von-beefdip · 2 months ago

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I've been playing Monster Hunter Wilds non-stop since it came, so I decided to put out my thoughts on all the monsters in the game. I will be commenting on their design and combat. Both will be very subjective to my taste. For the combat I won't be discussing difficulty, it's mostly just how fun I think the fight is.

SPOILERS FOR ALL MONSTERS IN THE GAME BELOW

CHATACABRA

DESIGN: GOOD

I like this guy. He got a lot of small details going on, and a buff frog is a pretty unique design.

COMBAT: EFFECTIVE

Does a great job of being the first monster you encounter. It demonstrates a lot of mechanics for new players and makes a good punching bag for testing weapons live.

QUEMATRICE

DESIGN: FUN

They managed to make a fire chicken lizard that looks good. The tail especially is very cool.

COMBAT: OK

The igniting tail swipe is such a cool idea. Unfortunately that's really the only distinct thing about this fight.

LALA BARINA

DESIGN: IMPECCABLE

Definitely one of the coolest designs in the game. The big flower and jerky dancing movement make for a very cool to look at monster

COMBAT: DISAPPOINTING

The spindly legs make for an annoying target and the paralyzing flowers look cool but are pretty negligible to the fight. The stinger stab is pretty good, especially the unexpected double stab.

CONGALALA

DESIGN: HATE IT

Dude just looks goofy, and the fart stuff is just gross.

COMBAT: SOMEWHAT INTERESTING

Again, not a fan of the fart attacks, but the mechanic of it eating different mushrooms to gain breath attacks is really cool and well executed.

BALAHARA

DESIGN: SICK

Its a big armor plated sand worm, what's not to love? The slithery movement and the way it twists up on itself is also neat.

COMBAT: OK

Not much going on with this fight. Kind of annoying to hit its low body with some attacks. The mechanic where it sinks you into sand in order blast you is a good one.

DOSHAGUMA

DESIGN: KINDA PLAIN

It kind of just looks like a normal animal. Doesn't really have any distinct features other than it's jacked up face.

COMBAT: FUN

This is the first monster that can really clock you if you let it, and it's big enough that you can really let loose with a lot of moves. Also the rage mechanic that reopens wounds is really fun when you manage to slam a bunch of them in a row.

UTH DUNA

DESIGN: MARVELOUS

Love this one. It reminds me of a big fat salmon for some reason. The water cloak is beautiful and the whole thing just looks very majestic and imposing.

COMBAT: FUN

Lot of cool gimmicks with this one. The big shield, the attacks that cause waves, jumping into the water; all very cool and fun. Also the giant bodyslam is so fun to block and counter with lance.

ROMPOPOLO

DESIGN: UNIQUE

I'll admit I didn't like this guy much when I first saw it, but it's grown on me. Probably the most unique monster in the game right now. Seeing it inflate and deflate is interesting.

FIGHT: INTERESTING

The gas explosions are an interesting move, and can be tricky to dodge when things get hectic. The little poison jabs can catch you off guard too if you're not careful. Again, very unique guy.

REY DAU

DESIGN: RADICAL

They really spiced up the classic wyvern look with this one. The chiming sound It's movements make are a nice touch. The way its horns reposition to turn into a railgun is probably the coolest attack in the game, and it glassing the sand is a nice cherry on top.

COMBAT: AWESOME

One of the funnest fights in the game. The whole thing feels very bombastic and relentless. And again, the railgun is awesome.

NERSCYLLA

DESIGN: KINDA BASIC

Honestly just a big spider, not really doing it for me.

COMBAT: ADEQUATE

The big jaws and the web swing are cool, not much else to say about this one. The baby spiders are just annoying.

And it appears I reached the limit on pictures for this one, so continued in the next post.

#monster hunter wilds #monster hunter #part 1 #monhun

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jerky4u · 6 months ago

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Pineapple Teriyaki Jerky - Sweet and Savory Flavors Combined

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almostholynerd · 2 months ago

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The Cat and its Knight

The knight found a cat. It was fat and happy, but it was undeniably in the wrong place, purring up a storm in the middle of a burnt-out cottage, the soot slowly staining its white fur. The knight leaned down, his armor creaking at the leather belts, and held out a piece of jerky to it.

“Here, cat. Come get it.” He crooned, his voice echoing in his still-lowered visor. The cat feigned disinterest before deigning to stand up, stretch, and wander over to inspect the offering. It was gone immediately, and the knight picked up the cat in his metal-clad hands, hoping he didn’t pull its fur.

“What have you got there, Sir Schaffer?” One of his companions called.

“A creature, thought I might give it to the Lady.” He called back. “Looks like it would go well with her.” His majesty’s daughter was often seen wearing diaphanous white dresses, layered silks that scandalized the older women, despite not really showing any more flesh than the old fashions. The knights tended to like her because she gave them pleasant tasks and was polite when she addressed them, unlike some of the other courtiers who saw knights as being “low class nobility.”

But the cat cared not for who it was to be given to. It purred the entire way back to the palace, riding on the saddle behind Sir Schaffer, occasionally rubbing against his armored back. The Lady was predictably pleased when presented with the small creature, bestowing a chaste kiss on his temple for the favor.

After that, the creature was pampered and petted within an inch of its life. It seemed to glow white as it strutted the halls of the castle, acting as though the king’s domain was its own. It was fed the choicest of meats, it was given a bed of goosedown, and was often seen in a place of honor at the Lady’s soirees and tea parties. There could be no more favored creature, and one would expect it to attach itself to its maidenly benefactor.

Instead, Sir Schaffer seemed to be the target of its affections. He found the cat curled up in his bed, buildings away from where the princess had made a place for it, on most mornings. It showed up to try to take his rough bread and greasy meat at meals, and more often than not, his clothing would come out of his chests with a scattering of white fur on it. The knight swore at the cat, shaking his black clothing out and shooing it off his bed with a grumble. But when he was sitting on the bench between training sessions, he would find his fingers absently scratching its tiny skull, and when he was reading in the evenings, he would let it sit on his chest, reasoning that his all-black wardrobe was already covered in white fur, would a few more minutes really change anything?

So the cat, whose name was variably “Angel” if one was a friend of the Lady or “Critter” if one knew it through the knight, was pampered on both sides of the court. The cat, of course, never answered to any name it didn’t care to, but would always rush into the knight’s cracked-open door when it heard him softly call “bedtime,” and would show up whenever anyone had food. Truly, what more could a cat ask for?

---------------

Wrote this for @almostscrumptiouslover because we were talking about this artwork--

Which neither of us can find an actual credit for (erikzm shared it on rednote, but we are pretty sure they didn't make it). If anyone knows, please please PLEASE let me know because it is so cute.

#drabble #writing #cat #knight #thank you for distracting me from what I was actually writing #it was short and fun #and look at those cuties

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i-did-not-mean-to · 7 months ago

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FOTFICtember - Chapter 3

A roller-coaster ride, a mushy hotdog, and a surprise in a maze...

@mysandwichranaway is working on some art for this fic! Stay tuned!

Prompts: Twilight, corn maze, lantern, mushrooms, sweater weather, amber

Pairing: Ori x OC, Bilbo x Thorin, Fíli x OC, Kíli x Tauriel

Words: 1555

Warnings:Some indecent kissing, some general anxiety, Thorin is an ass

Ori had half-expected that it had all just been a bad joke.

Yet, when he reached the small group standing, as promised, by the food carts to grab a tiny bite to eat, his own hotdog almost got stuck in his throat as Fíli waved a bunch of shiny, colourful tokens in his face.

“I’ve taken the liberty of buying the first round,” he declared and handed Ori one of the plastic coins.

The rollercoaster itself was a miserable, rickety affair that might not have stood a chance in hell to be ridden in a more elaborate setting.

As it was this small fair’s only attraction, though, the queue seemed to be endless.

Catching a glimpse of a beautiful, dark-haired girl he’d been begging to go out with him a few rows ahead of them, Fíli excused himself hastily and started pushing through the throng of people ruthlessly.

“Ah! Well…” Kyra mumbled.

“He really did mean it when he said that he wanted to show you a good time,” Kíli assured her. “He might just not do it himself.”

Sucking her teeth, Tauriel reached over to take the young woman’s hand and squeeze it comfortingly. “I’ve got you, girl. You can ride with me—I want to see how they jam their fat asses onto the tiny bench.”

“Ey…I thought we were going to make out throughout the whole ride?” Kíli protested, spearing Ori with that steely look he’d inherited from his mother.

“Yes, erm, yes,” Ori waffled, aghast to realise that he’d forgotten all his words when he needed them most. “If that would be agreeable, I’d be honoured to ride with you, of course.”

When she turned to him, black eyes sparkling with mirth, he swallowed heavily. Kyra had always been so disarmingly beautiful, and he’d never found the courage to tell her.

Year after year, summer after summer, he’d sworn to his friends and himself that, next time, he’d ask her to go to the local ice cream parlour or walk the maze with him, but he never had.

And then, she’d stopped coming.

It had taken him months to work up the courage to ask Bilbo about it, and the answer had been less than heartening, so he’d let it be.

As he now shuffled onto the uncomfortably hard bench of the creaking wagon beside her, he could hardly believe that she’d returned at long last.

“I don’t think you remember me,” he started quietly, interrupted by the screeching of the brakes being loosened and the lurching start of the ride.

“Nonsense,” Kyra chuckled. “It took me a mere second to place the name. You’ve grown up well, I must say.”

“How do you mean?” Ori asked, horrified to hear that his voice was not unlike the squeaking of the worn rails beneath them.

“Forget it,” she grinned and turned her pale, radiant face into the fading light as they started the jerky ascent to the laughably low apex of the woefully short track.

Ahead of them, Kíli and Tauriel were cheering and laughing as they sped downhill, exchanging messy kisses in between exaggerated hoots.

“Hold on tight; this might be a bumpy ride,” Ori warned.

When she gave him a slightly panicked look, he slung his arm around her body and pulled her closer against his own. “Hold on,” he repeated.

Nothing could have prepared him for the fact that, instead of grabbing the ramshackle handlebar, she’d throw her arms around his torso and bury her face in the crook of his neck.

As much as he’d not wanted to go on the ride in the first place, Ori now desperately wished that their shabby wagon would never stop grinding along the rails.

Kyra was soft and warm against him, and the smell of her perfume made him feel as if he’d grow wings himself to fly into the darkening evening sky never to come down again.

Twilight was upon them, and lights flared up across the landscape like mysterious mushrooms—it would soon be time to set out for the bonfire.

Despite his better knowledge, Ori wondered whether Kyra would let him hold her again even after they’d left this hellish contraption.

“You exaggerate,” Ori heard Fíli say. Only then did he notice that they’d stopped.

The grumpy teen operating the ride looked at them with bored impatience and evident incredulity.

“Come on out, Uncle will kill us if we’re not there to canoodle in his maze,” Fíli added, holding the hand of the fair maiden he’d so indefatigably wooed proudly.

“Bombur is cooking,” Tauriel interjected. “Save your money and your gut health! Don’t waste either on more of the trash they’re selling here!”

“Oh, I know,” Kyra laughed breathily. “Bilbo has been baking for days—I’m looking forward to sampling his creations.”

Thus, they set out towards the forest, only to come up short at the entrance of a corn maze.

“We’ve lost the organisers in action,” Bofur informed them with a wink. “Take a lantern and go on your merry way! Two by two, please. Otherwise, it’s no fun.”

This time, there was no question about how they’d split up.

As soon as they were off, though, Ori couldn’t help but notice that Kyra was rubbing her arms while walking rather fast.

“The weather’s turned, huh?” he said sheepishly.

“Sweater weather,” she agreed, her full lips somewhat pale.

As pretty as her sundress was, it did little to keep the biting chill in the air at bay. Thankfully, Ori’s brothers insisted on him being wrapped up like an egg about to hatch at all times, so he shrugged out of his jacket to take off his thick, woollen pullover.

“Take this—we don’t want you to catch your death out here. It will be warmer by the fire,” he said hastily, afraid that he was crossing a line.

He should not have worried for Kyra took the garment gratefully and slipped into it at once—she looked painfully adorable as she was nearly swallowed by the oversized item hanging from her curvaceous frame.

“You’re a true gentleman,” she praised with a small, soft smile, and took his hand to pull him on.

The lanterns they’d been given were detestably dim and weak to avoid and prevent any potential fire hazard, so it was slow going.

More than once, they found themselves turned around and cornered, but—chatting amiably about old times—they didn’t mind retracing their steps and losing their time at all.

Suddenly, a strange noise made Ori still, trying to push Kyra behind him as he lifted their sorry excuse of a light source higher.

“Your eyes are liquid amber,” she gasped, evidently unfazed by the odd smacking sound coming from a corner plunged in deep shadows. “You’re so handsome!”

“My…what? Who goes there?” he called, feeling fiercely protective of the cheery woman for whom he held himself responsible until he could return her to her uncle’s care. He’d heard enough horror stories about the terrible things that could befall sweet creatures such as her in dark, secluded corners.

He’d not let anything happen to her, he vowed, desperately trying to push aside her last comment lest it distract him fatally from the situation at hand.

A moment later, the very uncle he’d been thinking of appeared, dishevelled and flushed.

“Uncle Bilbo?” Kyra gasped. “What has happened to you? Are you quite all right? You look a little…put out.”

“All is well,” Bilbo assured them. “Are you enjoying the maze?”

To make matters even more confusing, he was joined by Thorin—looking just as red-faced and unkempt—a second later.

“We were just checking…if everything was safe.”

“And is it?” Kyra asked in a strained voice before she burst into laughter. “I truly believed that the canoodling part Fíli mentioned was but a figure of speech, but…who am I to doubt the validity of your beliefs?”

Without further ado, she whirled around and planted a resounding kiss onto Ori’s half-open mouth.

“Whatever Gods or spirits you pray to tonight, I hope that they’ll hear my earnest wishes as well. Did I do this right?” she crowed in boundless hilarity.

Rubbing his forehead in embarrassed exasperation, Bilbo gave a long sigh. “You wild, headstrong child!” he chided. “What did you think these cul-de-sacs were for?”

“We have no time to lose,” Kyra replied with a shrug. “Our friends are waiting, and I’m starting to feel quite peckish.”

Ori, meanwhile, merely stood there—thunderstruck and silent—like an oaf. She’d simply kissed him, square on the lips, as if there was nothing to it, and he couldn’t wait to see if she’d do it again.

Bonfires were romantic, right? They could huddle for warmth on a nice log, and he could put his arm around her.

Emboldened and set aflame by her enthusiasm and generosity, he graciously agreed not to tell anyone about what they’d witnessed, and they went on their merry way once more.

“Shame,” Ori heard Bilbo say. “I’ve heard there was quite a lump sum in their betting pool.”

“I know,” Thorin chortled. “I say we take the pot and go on a nice holiday together.”

“What day did you choose?” Bilbo asked tersely.

“Tonight. And you?”

“Tomorrow!”

They both laughed heartily, the sound following the two youngsters until Ori finally glimpsed the exit ahead.

↳ Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics here's the third chapter of my fic for September!

Lots of love from me! <3

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dalidahmer · 1 month ago

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My trash ass manuscript no one will ever read

Here's my piece of shit story everyone hates that'll never get picked up by fucking anything. Go. I put it up for free cause I can't fucking pay people to read my work.

They had driven for four hours, and Sid still hadn't spoken.

The heat blasted through the car, making Sid sticky and light-headed under his coat.

He drank water instead of taking it off or turning the heat down. He wondered if everyone almost passed out when the temperature rose or if it was a not eating thing.

Cold meant skinny. If he was hot, he was fat—and he fucking deserved it.

Nathan couldn’t take the silence. He turned on music, then one of his 'pretentious' podcasts—the kind Sid hated—just to bait him into complaining. Nothing.

“How ya holding up, baby?” Nathan side-eyed him.

Sid shrugged without looking at him. He wasn’t... sad? He was just... Was he dreaming?

When Nathan pulled into a gas station, Sid considered stripping naked and robbing it—just to see if he’d snap out of it.

"Dude. You're starting to freak me out." Nathan popped a piece of nicorette as he climbed back into the car. He handed him more water. "Just show me that you can still talk."

Sid blinked and curled his fingers around the bottle, facing forward.

“... I got one of those 0 calorie drinks you like.” Nathan coaxed. “I know… you probably don’t– It’s okay if you do, though! I got jerky. That’s safe, right?” He spoke like he was talking to a toddler.

"We're in a car right now." Sid said calmly.

Nathan twisted his brows. "Yes..." He said slowly.

"We're driving because... my mom killed someone? That's really what's happening?" Sid spoke slowly.

It just didn't make sense.

Nathan sighed, relieved. He was honestly worried something had snapped in Sid's head…

“It’s a lot, I know…” Nathan said quietly and kissed the back of Sid’s hand. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

"I haven't gone crazy?" Sid's voice wavered. “This is really going on?”

"Everything’s going to be okay." Nathan rubbed Sid's thigh.

“And I made three hundred dollars?” Sid was pointing at himself, brows furrowed.

Nathan knew he was being serious but busted out laughing.

Sid glared.

He grabbed Sid’s hand apologetically.

“I’m sorry, baby…” Nathan kissed the back of his hand again. “It’s just good to see you back. I was starting to freak out.” He grinned. Sid was funnier when he didn’t mean to be.

When they were kids being laughed at bothered him. Nathan thinks he only got funny so he could be in on the joke.

"What are we even supposed to do when we get there?" Sid spoke almost hushed and low. He wasn't devastated, he wasn't lost, he wasn't angry.

Sid picked at the dead skin on his fingers, barely wincing as he tore it off so harshly Nathan heard the snap. It bled. He flexed his fingers—to tug at where it stung and catch the air in his sores. He wanted them to sting all day.

Nathan licked his lips. “I don’t know… I don’t–” He grimaced. “I didn’t know what to do… I don’t like Rachel but I felt like you needed to see her, so…” He shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

Sid blinked and stared ahead absently.

Nathan frowned. “I wanna be here for you… you know you can tell me anything?”

Sid ripped a big piece of thumbnail off exposing the painful clear-ish white part. It caught the air, shooting a nasty stinging-hot pain through his hand. Nope. He was here.

"Baby..." Nathan shrugged, swatting at Sid’s hands. "Just come here..." He pulled Sid into a hug.

Sid accepted but didn’t understand why Nathan seemed sad. He didn’t know how he should feel either. Should he feel bad that he feels nothing?

"I can't... I just-- My mom wasn't like that. She was a lot of things, but she wasn't a murderer."

"She's... not been herself." Nathan flashed his eyes, shaking his head.

"I half want to brag to all of my friends and half want to throw up." Sid shook his head. "I just... I can't believe it."

Nathan snorted clumsily, trying to suppress his laughter, earning another glare. "I'm so sorry, baby." He winced, sheepishly grinning. "I'm... not even half shocked..." He admitted. Honestly having expected something like this to happen.

Sid sighed. His brows furrowed. Just as soon a snort cracked through his frustration.

"It's like... at least she's not a murderer." Sid's shoulders shook. "Now her boo's all dead." Guilt stabbed at him but he couldn't help himself.

Nathan snorted and almost lost his gum.

"I wonder how she even did it... he was twice her size. It had to be in his sleep..." Sid winced. "This is horrible, I'm going to hell." He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Nah, man." Nathan took his hand, kissed the back, squeezed it. ��You didn’t know Henry– your mom treated you like shit, it’s okay if you’re…” He cut himself off.

“I’m glad.” Sid whispered turning, to face Nathan and wincing. “I’m excited she’s going to jail.”

Nathan squeezed his hand.

“I am glad, too.” Nathan widened his eyes, nodding. “Every time we got back from the holidays I’d have a night seething about her drinking and watching old Tex Avery cartoons.”

“She just…” Sid swallowed hard and his face felt tight he shook it off. “She was a bad mom!”

“Yeah.” Nathan said flatly.

“I don’t want to hate her, I still love her. I’m glad she’s going away, though. I think I loved her more than she ever loved me.” Sid flinched.

Nathan folded up the center console and pulled him in another hug.

“Don’t be faggy!” Sid's voice was muffled in Nathan’s jacket.

“Dude. She’s all of your problems.” Nathan massaged his fingers in Sid’s hair. “She made you starve yourself, she pits us against each other, you against your sister, she’s a wicked evil force of nature you can’t even let your boyfriend hug you because she taught your emotions were wrong!”

“I don’t think it’s going to work that way.” Sid laid his cheek on his chest and sighed. “I fucking hate Dorothy, I hate her so much! Can I talk about what a stupid evil cunt she is now? I still feel ungrateful and like my sister and mom were right to hate me but–”

Nathan growled. “Dude! That’s not you! I hate that.” He sighed. “I hate how you have to ask permission. You’re the most independent, hard headed person I’ve ever met. You don’t feel insecure about anything unless it’s fucking Dorothy and the shit she put in your head.”

“I’m angry.” Sid said after a beat of silence. “I’m always angry, I’m so angry I can’t even stand it sometimes. The world I see from inside of my head and the world I talk to people in are so different it just–”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“It’ll get easier from here on, though.” Nathan said.

“I’m so mad that I had to spend my whole life trying to make her reality perfect for her.” Sid shook his head tightly and spoke through his teeth. “I put in so much effort and I held so much back.”

“I know.” Nathan grabbed his hands and held Sid’s fingers stiff before he could start picking them again.

“It was for nothing!” Sid hissed. “I didn’t think she was really evil deep down, I thought she would be on her deathbed and apologize–” Sid’s face crumpled but he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head again.

“Shh–” Nathan wrapped his arms around him again and pressed his lips on top of his head. “You didn’t waste it if you spend the rest of your life being better than her, baby.”

“I’m so angry!” Sid buried his face in Nathan’s jacket. “And I feel like a piece of shit for being glad when someone died, though.” Sid winced. “He was someone’s dad… I didn’t even think about it, I’m making myself think about it now, all I ever care about is how it affects me.”

“That’s how you survived with it for so long.” Nathan said gently rubbing circles on his back.

“I thought I just had to outrun being a little kooky and dramatic, I didn’t think I had…” Sid swallowed. “I didn’t think I had a murderer’s genes.”

“Shh, no. Don’t think about it! It’s not your fault.” Nathan let him pull away. “We can go get through this, okay?” He put the console back down and held Sid’s hand. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

Sid swallowed hard and nodded. “Do you think she would have killed me or my sister?” He whispered the thought.

“If y’all were there.” Nathan’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry someone had to die, too, but…” Nathan shrugged.

“Am I like her?” Sid winced.

“Not in all the ways that count, I promise.” Nathan hugged him again. “You’re hard headed and I don’t think we can get the food stuff out of your brain, at least not without a lot of effort.” He kissed the top of his head.

“Do you think I could do this?” Sid reworded the question.

“No-No of course not.” Nathan side eyed him, but he kissed the top of his head.

“Watch your back–” Sid’s shoulders shook.

Nathan chuckled and squeezed him tighter. His laughter faded and he gave Sid a quick look.

It was only long enough for Sid to barely catch it.

“You’d never hurt anyone but yourself, baby.” Nathan nudged him, Sid laid his head on shoulder and sighed.

Sid shook his head burying his face in Nathan’s jacket. He felt foolish somehow. He thought he was smarter than Dorothy but she’s still one step ahead.

“I haven’t seen you eat today…” Nathan pressed.

“No.” Sid groaned. “I promise I’m nauseous for the first time in my life I honestly am not even thinking of food, seriously–”

“Dorothy didn’t have an eating disorder.” Nathan shrugged. “She… sure tried, but she loved herself too much. You’re still different.”

“I feel like I don’t have an eating disorder ninety-nine percent of the time.” Sid blurted.

Nathan sighed. “Let’s go see your sister, okay?”

Sid nodded. He pulled away rubbing his eyes. His face kept feeling tight like he was going to cry but nothing ever came.

“Sure you don’t want any jerky?” Nathan cracked open the bag.

“It’s too much sodium.” Sid was calculating a new diet plan. Now he really had to make sure he never turned into Dorothy.

“Do you think she just did it because of her blood sugar? The doctors think that’s why she went DEFCON 1…” Sid started picking his skin again.

Nathan frowned listening to Sid’s stomach growl and identified the line being drawn between hot-sick and sick-sick. But he decided not to push it right now.

“Baby, she popped pills like candy.” He squeezed Sid’s shoulder and rubbed it up and down and kissed him. “I think you’re going to torture yourself for the rest of eternity if you keep asking why.”

Sid nodded. Dorothy was obsessive like that, too.

Have my whole fucking manuscript for free I don't fucking care. I can't get anyone to read shit anyway. I can say whatever I want about my trash ass story cause no one fucking reads this shit:

LOL FUCKING STEAL IT LOLOLOL NO ONE WILL READ

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fyj_bDczl4ulFiEsxL7AJ4qaiLQn0HPjUr1cPru3iEs/edit?tab=t.0

#dark fic #crime drama #original fic #original fiction #trauma #mental health #creativewriting #oc #drabble #excerpt

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amrass · 1 month ago

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Fanfiction updates and excerpts 03.25

Hello! I have a lot of interesting, multi-fandom fanfics coming this spring and well into summer. They are within Red Dead Redemption, Silent Hill 2, Mouthwashing and Arcane. I've decided to push my Titane & Crash crossover fic Valve further back for the time being, as I'm re-reading Ballard's novel, but it might suddenly appear.

My health remains a bit up and down, getting better all week and then worsening on Thursday, but I'm so grateful for all the recent well wishes in comments and PMs ❤️ They truly mean a lot to me.

List and excerpts after the cut.

Works within RDR:

Salt chapter 20-25, my Colm/Micah sugar daddy AU story:

"On the lips, little Van der Linde. Like how you sway the ladies."

They had met less than two hours ago, but that wasn't a problem for Dutch, Colm knew that well. Easily as nothing, he slipped into the shape of a lover, tilting his head to the side before capturing Micah's lips. Taking hold of his jaw, too, pausing at the texture of the chin scar, before dragging out Micah's lovely, fat bottom lip, opening him up to kiss him deeper. Dutch didn't spit into it like Colm had done. He had a more reserved tongue. Slower than a snake's. Colm was bending to the side, watching them kiss, judging their efforts.

Strangelove (WIP title) part 1-2/3, Colm/Dutch/Micah, an art & fic trade with Skibiborg, where I'm writing moments from their Rewind AU, a modern AU set within the 1980s-2000s:

"I thought you rejected materialism, my ascetic friend. But you like this one, then? The bomber style is nice, and the brown leather softens you." Dutch stroked the jacket, then slipped inside, growing bolder. "You're a little soft, aren't you? Beneath all that coldness?"

Colm shoved Dutch away, and the younger man sat down on a nearby chair, spreading his legs and taking a swig from his pocket lark. As if hypnotized, Colm leaned down, hands on his shoulders, on his lovely thick thighs, and Dutch chuckled and pretended at shoving him away. The play fight was brief. None of them were all that serious, but Dutch was stronger and ended up with Colm pinned beneath him on the sticky floor, new jacket be damned.

Black Eyed Dog part 1-2/2. Colm/Micah/Arthur, pre-canon fantasy AU, with monster!low honor!Arthur and O'Driscoll Boy!Micah:

"Hey, mutt. Catch."

That upturned, bearded face was an almost cute target.

Micah filled it with bullets.

As it was hit, the man's head whipped from side to side, chunks of it exploding off, and Micah aimed the last three bullets at his chest and his heart, if such a creature even possessed one. Those feet were kicking up the dust, but Micah still saw him clearly, bending his upper body backwards. His position looked ... wrong, and his unharmed legs still kept him up as blood ran down from it. And then he bent forward again, and where there had been a gory mess, the black furred creature was formed. Not a wolf, but still canine, so uncanny it was hard to look at for long.

Snakes and Boots 11-20+, a collection of meta texts (No excerpt)

Bull Grazing (WIP title, commission work) This is meant to be a sequel to Bull Session, and I'm very excited about it! It stars Angus Geddes and the Laramie Gang Leader. (No excerpt)

Works within Silent Hill 2

Desperately Poorly, Nurses/James/Pyramid Head, James & Maria:

He's in a bed, being wheeled forward with jerky movements and the click of heels coming from right behind him. His front is tied to the bed with belts fit for an insane person from another century, and his legs are tightly bandaged and up in stirrups, a rotten blanket thrown over his naked form. He can't feel much of the pain, maybe due to the levitation or the drugs. He hears the nurse though from right behind, wheeling him forward, her hums and clicks.

The Beautiful Days, Mary/James/Maria. An interpretation on what room 106 in Jacks Inn could mean, other than a SH3 reference:

Their stumble is awkward. He pulls her weight alongside him. Using his free arm to check the doors of the motel rooms. All are locked, of course. Until they reach room 106. As he takes Maria inside, he sees the car parked haphazardly outside, unsettlingly similar to his own except for the strange red square at the front, a single bare and frameless icon that induces headaches and dizziness in him, and a feeling of ... lost flexibility? The windows of the car are darkened but there's a shadow in the backseat, sitting up with a shapeless face turned towards him, as he shuts the door to room 106.

I Was a Prisoner Inside Your Skull, James/Mary. An interpretation on what the The Lying Figure could be and represent (No excerpt)

Works within Mouthwashing and Arcane

Most Accidents Happen at Home part 1-2/2, previously announced as Red Skeletons (that might be the new name of the series instead) a JimCurly fic. This is set in the same AU as I'll Cut Off My Right Hand and Stand in Your Shadow and concludes the series:

Curly's breaths were deep. They snored the smell of expensive whiskey into the room. Carefully, Jimmy stepped on top of the mattress. And then on top of Curly. Still, he did not stir. He was lying on his stomach with his face turned to the side, hidden by greasy blonde curls. Jimmy crouched so that his knees were spread over Curly's ass. So close to mounting him, like he'd seen a random student do to him before fucking him in the ass. Jimmy had known what he was since back then, hiding in the wardrobe that now stood in the disaster room, memories that felt ages old. They'd never talked about it. The only way Jimmy could know if Curly's hole was as loose as it'd seemed back then was to check.

Red Desert part 2/2, Ambessa Medarda/Sevika. Pre-canon darkfic:

She'd been spanked a few times as a child. Thrice for fighting kids older than her, and once for sneaking into the mines to earn some coin by using a needle to change the birth date on her identification papers. When his father did it, his lips were thin in distaste, and afterwards he looked at the floor and mumbled something about how it was the only thing that had worked on him as a kid, though unlike him, she tended to win the fights she picked.

This punishment is nothing at all like that.

Ambessa's hand is as callused as her father's was, but where he tried to get it over with as quickly as possible, she takes her time between the slaps, timing it so that the pain really sets in. She's also hitting Sevika's ass so hard that the skin opens beneath her fingers. The cracks of skin against skin echo in the open space. If there are guards stationed outside they know better than to intervene.

Sevika curses at first. Then she grunts. Then she yells. The screams come when her throat feels sore, contracting painfully around a sob as Ambessa digs her clawed hand into the hurt flesh.

"Shush, girl. Settle down. We'll begin again soon."

Annnnnnnnd that's it! A few unplanned pieces might pop up, and details on these might change, but I'm crossing my fingers for a nice spring and summer. Thanks again for the support.

#amras writes #rdr fic #silent hill fanfic #red dead fanfiction #silent hill fanfiction #arcane fic #mouthwashing fic #rdr #arcane fanfic #sh2 fic #sh2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfiction

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moviesludge · 1 year ago

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I've had to adjust my diet a lot since finding out I have gout a few years back. it's another trial-and-error thing since foods affect people differently.

Here's what I've had to 100% give up: Hot dogs, all non-fountain sodas (except natural sugar sodas), canned chili, kielbasa, basically all high-fructose corn syrup foods & drinks, carls jr burgers (all others don't seem to bother me), tuna, beef jerky, & white rice. These are all things that get my joints hurting like 5-10 minutes after eating/drinking them.

I used to drink about 1 liter of canned soda a day, and was pretty surprised how easy it was to kick. I started drinking just one small glass with dinner and then stopped and drank water. Since I found out HFCS affected me so much and stopped having it, I found that I'm able to detect by taste if it's in something. I had cool whip on something a few weeks ago, not having checked the ingredients, and was able to taste it. The only way I can describe it is like an artificial "extra" flavor. Like sugary plasticy fat or something.

There's a fair amount of stuff I can eat that is generally prohibited, as long as I don't eat a lot of it. Turkey and shrimp are things I thought I'd have to give up completely but seem okay in moderation. They're things I never ate often anyway.

I've read that even the bad foods that don't affect you immediately can have negative effects over time though. I take allopurinol, which is a medication that helps keep uric acid levels in check. I get my levels tested regularly (about every 3 months), and I'm usually in a good range. My doc has adjusted my dosage a few times. There was a time he actually suggested stopping the medication because I was doing so well, which I did, but my levels spiked at the next visit. I'm taking a fairly low dosage now. I also have colchicine, which is a med I can take if my gout flares up, but was told that it's bad for the kidneys, so I only take it if I get a significant flare which I'm glad to say is very rare.

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hazard-and-friends · 1 year ago

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in other news just stuffed kongs (canned dog food, low fat greek yogurt, canned green beans, chicken jerky) and both dogs decided to have naps about it instead, 10/10 dog training

#including the idiot teenager!!!#hazard to society #bucket full of starlight

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cyberrat · 6 months ago

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89th Batch Of Fics: 4th Fill

Hanzo/Cassidy – Off Limits AU – timeskip; unreliable narrator – Everybody is aggressive and miserable. It's an Alpha's world.

---

There’s a crash and a thud and Cole whips around, one hand shooting to steady himself against the edge of the bar to see Hanzo has shot up and off his stool at last. He’s got his palm wrapped around Florian’s throat and has him slammed against the top of the counter, the young Alpha’s back twisted in a way that makes Cole’s own back muscles spasm briefly in sympathy.

That one would bruise.

The bar falls completely quiet as everyone stills, just as surprised by the sudden outburst of violence as Cole is. The silence is interrupted by the low, rumbling growl pouring out from Hanzo and the choked almost puppy whimpers coming from Flower as he claws at the hand around his throat, trying to dislodge the fingers. His face is already turning an alarming shade of red from lack of oxygen.

Through clenched teeth, Hanzo grits out: “Never touch me again. I’m not one of you sick fucks. Are we clear?!”

His gaze briefly flicks over the other Alphas collected, his eyes looking like two black holes sitting in the middle of his face. Completely void of anything like sympathy or human understanding. Cole shudders, his nails digging harder into the soft wood he’s clutching at. Hanzo looks unhinged.

His eyes fall back on the other young Alpha in his grasp, and, realizing that he’s making it difficult for the other to reply, he marginally loosens the grip he has on his throat. The answering confirmation that yes, he’s understood, loud and clear, sorry, sorry, sorry – is accompanied by a whole show of submissiveness; little whines, eyes turned away, his chin tilting awkwardly to show off a throat that is already being attacked.

Hanzo’s lip lifts, showing off his canine in an aggressive display of complete disgust. He suddenly lets go of Flower as if burned by his skin and shakes out his hand for good measure before standing up straight and making first sure his hair, then his clothes are in perfect condition.

Once more he looks over the Alphas present. They’re all some varying degrees of drunk and dumb, but none of them is dumb enough to make a peep and try to stand out of the crowd.

For a split second, Hanzo’s soulless glare lands on Cole. He doesn’t have enough time to react one way or the other before the connection is lost as quickly as it had been established, Hanzo’s face pulling into an odd little micro expression before he turns on his heels and makes his way out of the bar, his temporary retainers scrabbling to follow after.

Cole is the first to move, peeling off the bar and crossing the space in four long strides, though a few minutes later he wouldn’t be able to tell how he made it there when he’d not been able to even feel his legs. He peers out of the window as behind him the Alphas finally thaw from their tense positions and start murmuring amongst themselves.

Cole can see Hanzo standing in the light thrown out by the bar, not acknowledging any of the men awkwardly standing around him. He’s pulling out a pack of cigarettes, shakes one out and lights it before he starts to walk away with oddly jerky motions.

His hands had been trembling hard enough that he hadn’t been able to light the smoke on the first try but Cole does not think anybody noticed.

.o.

Cole is a dumb fuck, but he’s not that dumb. He knows when to keep his eyes and ears open and just be good and aware of his surroundings, and in the coming days, he’s doing just that. Being not dumb under the veneer of a useless drunk bastard that is slowly getting his purpose pulled out from under his fat ass by a pretty young thing that can do what he does – only far better.

He’s got a lot of time on his hands. When just a few weeks before he’d be stumbling from one cumdrunk asshole to the next, he now barely has to give out a handjob or two in a day, leaving him to just sit in the shadow, quietly sweat in the Texan heat, and watch.

It should be relaxing, he supposes. Like some kind of vacation because he’s also stopped doing the few other chores he usually should be doing and nobody was getting on his case for it, but… well. It doesn’t feel relaxing at all. It doesn’t feel like a vacation. It doesn’t feel like people are letting him off the hook just for the shit of it but because something will be happening soon.

He can feel the eyes of the other Alphas but whenever he throws them a crooked-toothed smile, they only wave him off and are on their way. Not staying to mingle and to talk, just… existing. Watching. Appraising.

Cole feels queasy. He wishes the other shoe would simply drop, but it doesn’t. So he is stuck pretending like he doesn’t know something is off and something is about to happen, and just watches Hanzo. Trying to figure out what’s up with that bundle of nerves and anxiety is a job in and off itself.

Once he’s gotten his bearings and calmed himself down from the odd barrage of emotions upon seeing him after such a long time, he can say, objectively, that something is up with the pup. The way he moves and talks is downright mechanical, his scent tightly reigned in like he doesn’t want even a molecule of his touching up to anybody outside his bubble.

It’s not entirely outside of his usual MO, but it’s dialed up to a degree that is plainly ridiculous.

He’s been closed off and apprehensive when he noticed Cole coming on to him all that time ago in the hotel they met in, but he’s been calm and self-assured enough to just go with the flow and dominate the other Alpha.

He’s enjoyed it. Cole had been able to see that without needing to second-guess himself.

Now, though, there’s not that simple standoffishness of a young Alpha not wanting to seem weak and never having thought of fucking another Alpha. It’s something much more volatile. His little stunt in the bar had been plenty impressive. Nobody dared to mouth off in his general vicinity; Florian kept a wide berth and usually just fled the scene upon the faintest trace of the foreign Alpha.

Cole doesn’t try again to step into Hanzo’s space or get the other to notice him, but he is also not scurrying away like a little animal sensing a predator. He just watches and assesses and wonders when that sweltering tension is going to rip open wide.

.o.

In all the time that Clint had been the boss of them now, he and Cole had come to… an understanding? Something like that?

Cole behaved and Clint would not fuck him up.

They’re fifty and sixty now and have been doing their little song-and-dance for a good thirty years. It works. Cole hasn’t lost any more limbs to the hard-as-nails Alpha.

He’s still scared fucking shitless of him.

Especially when he just stands there, his face rigid with a frown, his hands hidden behind his back where Cole can’t fucking see what he’s up to.

“Ah, Cassidy. Just the man I’ve been meaning to talk to. It’s a good evening tonight, right? Clear sky. Not too hot.”

He smacks his lips, pretending to think for a moment, then jerks his head over his shoulder. “Come.”

#cyberratting writes stuff #hanzo/cassidy #off limits au #unreliable narrator

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the-prophesied-disco-gay · 11 months ago

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"I'd love to have hobbies but I'm too broke"

"Yeah sounds fun, if you have that kind of money"

"Lol out of touch. Like people just have the money for craft supplies laying around"

My loves. My beautiful humans of all varieties. I am kissing you on the forehead so gently and begging you

Do. It. Poor.

Humanity has existed for around three hundred thousand years. Money as we know it has existed for about five thousand of those years. Humans have been doing stuff without money for most of our history as a species.

Find out what resources are available in your area and get your hands on some and create something with them.

This can include things like "buy nothing" groups and construction rubbish and lengths of carpet in the dumpster behind the local flooring place. Free pallets and broken tiles and scrap fabric on marketplace and craigslist.

It can also include natural clay deposits you teach yourself to refine for pottery, and plants that can be turned into fibers and spun and woven, and minerals and husks and berries and roots and a thousand other things that can be used to make natural dyes.

I have made paper from the wood of a neighbor's tree that they had to cut down. I collected a good bit of it for my mom to do woodturning with as well and she made wooden cooking spoons and spatulas, and wooden hair pins, and pens, and some chairs.

I have knit bags made from yarn I spun from local cottonwood fluff I collected off the ground.

I have dyed paper and fabric and soaps and wood and hair using dyes made from local plants and kitchen scraps and mineral pigments I collected and ground and mixed myself. I have made my own paints and inks and paintbrushes and canvasses as well.

I have made beautiful mosaic topped side/end/coffee/bedside tables with broken tile bits and scrap wood or sometimes scrap metal.

I taught myself how to make butter and jams and bread and jerky and a plethora of other things from scratch through mostly trial and error and bothering people's grandmothers

I taught myself how to make fishooks from a variety of materials

I've made cat trees from carpet scraps and junk wood, and cat toys from feathers and fabric scraps and sticks and string (I did sterilize the feathers to avoid illness and mites and such)

I have made soap from scratch using table scraps and lye I extracted from wood ash. I have similarly made lotions, salves, balms, and tinctures from scratch from collected materials. I have made candles from both tallow and beeswax acquired for free or very low cost, acquired from local apiaries and butchers.

I have made clothes for myself and others, as well as shawls, bags, scarves, quilts and whole host of other things from free sheets, blankets, clothes, and other "trash" fabric people were either giving or throwing away because of holes or rips or stains.

I taught myself leatherworking to make bracelets and bag straps and sandals and fetish gear from scrap bits of leather, usually sourced from ripped or otherwise damaged leather jackets that were being thrown out.

I taught myself to weave wreaths cause we have pine trees here and what the fuck do you mean eighty dollars for some pine boughs and ribbon???

I spent 6 months travelling without purchasing a single night in a hotel room or purchasing a single travel ticket of any kind, picking up odd jobs and selling things I crafted from materials found along the way and ride sharing and camping (yes there was an element of danger there, but travel is always dangerous. Being alive is dangerous. Being a fat neurodivergent disabled queer afab poor person is hella dangerous. I refuse to spend my precious life isolated and afraid)

Sand paintings can be done with pine resin, natural dyes, and sand.

Makeup can be made entirely from things you can find around you in most parts of the world.

Felting can be done with pet hair.

Carving

Whittling

Cooking

Metalworking/blacksmithing

Hunting and trapping

A canoe can be made from...a tree

Please, please look at the world you are part of and realize *it will not charge you money for joy*

Look at how the native peoples of your area did the thing you want to do. Look at how other cultures have historically accomplished that thing. Pretend civilization has fallen and there isn't anyone to pay for materials and supplies. Pretend plastic doesn't exist. You are so much freer than you realize. Do it poor. Live your life. Your desire is the only permission you need in order to create, in order to have hobbies (Victor Frankenstein and Hannibal Lector I am not talking to you).

And for those of you worried about whether this applies to you, I am both poor and heavily disabled. I cannot stand or walk for longer than ten or fifteen minutes. I cannot lift more than ten pounds without *fracturing my spine*. My glasses give people migraines. I am AuDHD. You learn to work around your limitations, and accomodate yourself. I learned how to make myself a folding stool with 3 decent sized branches and some strips of leather or canvass. It is lightweight but holds all my medically obese self without issue. I put a strap on that sucker and now I have place to sit whenever I need, even if it's every few steps. I'm not on anyone else's timeframe when I am doing this stuff, I'll sit when I please for as long as I need. I learned how to make a travois for dragging stuff I can't safely lift. I got a cheap immersion blender because my shoulders can't handle the level of stirring required for soap making and several other things. I do almost everything, including furniture making, sitting down, often in my wheelchair (which I got for free and made a seat for cause it didn't have one and I couldn't afford an intact, functional wheelchair). These things can be adjusted for disability, for neurotype, for location (including inner city), for limited available time (I was working 3 jobs and raising toddlers for a good portion of this time, before I became too disabled to work). Human creativity is near limitless. Use it!

If you don't know where to start or how to find the info you need or how to accomplish your hobby for free or low cost, ask! Ask me, ask other crafty people, ask people with an interest in anthropology, ask local groups of indigenous artisans, ask the internet. Don't expect folks to construct a detailed, start to finish set of instructions for you, but they can usually point you in the right direction in terms of finding the knowledge you need, or to get you past a point you're stuck at (an affectionately exasperated older lady once emailed back with just "you didn't add vinegar to fix the dye did you?" I....had not). Not every craft or hobby will be able to done low cost (I do not know how to make a telescope sorry) but many can, more than most people think.

Capitalism is a cage for the human spirit. Slip the bars baby.

#poverty #art is a human right #crafting #natural materials #natural methods #low tech #crafting IS survival #todays life skills are tomorrows hobbies #anti capitalist

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