#chewing tobacco alternative

[ocmontessoriacademy]

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[whitetail-smokeless]

Smokeless tobacco alternative

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[haghottie420]

no thoughts just Rust and Marty smoking weed together as horny old men

(early WIP continuation of my fic We Have a Great Wanting In Common)

Their newest habit since making a home together has been smoking weed in the sunroom at twilight. Marty hates how many cigarettes Rust smokes, even after cutting back. The taste is always sour on his tongue when they kiss. But he’s been respectful of the fact that tobacco and nicotine are nowhere near as bad as the alcohol and the harder shit Crash was into. Besides, the number of cigs has diminished compared to what he could put away in the front seat in ’95. Marty doesn’t keep alcohol in the house anymore, thinks both of their livers are penning them thank you letters for being spared cirrhosis. Rust had been lucky to dry out in a coma and was doing his damnedest to stay off that particular wagon, so the smoke took some of the edge off.

It started off as a joke—Rust flat out refused the oxycodone prescribed to him last summer, flushed it all down the toilet one bad night (of many, of fewer now). So, Marty hit up his neighbor, an earth science major looking to pay off his student loans for some alternative healing. It cost way more than Marty used to spend back in the day, but he chalked it up to inflation. Plus, he was paying for the kid’s education. Maybe he could call that shit a tax write off. Rust took the weed, and the meager supplies Marty could get at the local head shop with a blank face but took to it immediately like a fish in water.

The routine started that evening. Rust padded his way into the kitchen at seven PM on the dot to carefully roll a joint. He used a cheap, plastic grinder to grate the herb, carefully pouring it out onto that day’s newspaper. The small pile was then methodically folded into white rolling paper with practiced, precise hands and a final, perfunctory yet still sensuous lick of the glue held it all together. He twisted the top then tucked the finished product behind his ear, something he still does with pens when he isn’t chewing on the caps.

Marty would watch this whole process with a quiet wonder at Rust’s meditative deftness—the same way he’d cut glances from the corner of his eye to watch him obscenely suck a cigarette down to the filter in two breaths on the force. He’s honest enough with himself now to admit it gets him hard. And fuck, if it hadn’t been more than a couple of decades since he had some reefer.

[shimmerbeasts]

Muse Details

animal: Ocelot flower: Acontium alias Wolfsbane scent: Gunpowder, sulphur, citrus coffee: usually too nutty, thick and tar-like for her taste with how it is made in the Undercity  tea: prefers spicier tea flavours with varying herbs or fruits mixed in, has a strong preference for citrus and ginger   drink: usually just mere water or something like apple juice alcoholic beverage: Whiskey Sour exclusively as it was the first cocktail, Silco ever let her drink food: when it comes to fish, she loves salmon and tuna, however, she also does not say no to "meat" stew, in fact, over the years, she developed a strong taste and interest in varying kinds of "meat" dessert: dark chocolate cake with cherries in it article of clothing: the purple sleeves, which are repurposed from Powder's former purple shirt candy: sour gummies, fruit-flavoured gummies, anything that you have to chew on a bit left or right handed?: ambidextrous sloppy or neat writing?: sloppy, kind of chaotic-looking writing clean or messy home?: very messy and chaotic workshop, but with an underlying sense of organisation in her mind morning or night?: Night as that is when her senses work the best task done early or last minute?: It can swing wildly. Sometimes, she does things super early and other times, she gets sidetracked and ends up rushing a job in the last five minutes while in a state of mania love language?: Physical touch and acts of service are how she expresses her love believe in love at first sight?: In a way, she does believe in love at first sight. However, what she reads as love technically is just her habit of getting extremely attached very fast. Ergo Jinx has a habit of developing intense, co-dependent relationships with very intense emotional feelings.

Muse Details

animal: Leopard Seal and Shark flower: Deadly Nightshade scent: Tobacco, cologne, salt, strange sickly sweet odour from the Shimmer vials, he has on himself coffee: Can down the thick, nutty, tar-like substance Zaunites call coffee and will maintain eye contact the whole time tea: black tea, usually with some milk or sugar, alternatively, he likes apple and cinnamon tea   drink: Water or iced tea during hotter days alcoholic beverage: Whiskey food: When it comes to fish, Silco normally eats herring, salmon or sardines. He also likes mussels and shellfish. He does not eat as much "meat" as Sevika or Jinx eat, however, he also does not shy away from it. dessert: Lemon sorbet if he can afford to splurge article of clothing: His black and golden laced vest as well as his cloak with the red collar (even if both articles can sometimes be unbearable to wear due to trauma). candy: almonds or other types of nuts or cherries encased in dark or milk chocolate left or right handed?: right-handed sloppy or neat writing?: extremely neat, almost hard-looking writing clean or messy home?: clean and very minuscule home with little space for disorder, however, he can tolerate it to some extent, especially when it comes from Jinx morning or night?: Morning as Silco's Vastaya heritage makes him the most active and skilled during the day; plus as the leader of the Lanes, he just has a very busy day task done early or last minute?: Tasks are preferably done early; that way Silco can respond faster to unexpected surprises and developments throughout the day love language?: Quality time, words of affirmation and in brief instances physical touch is how Silco expresses love. believe in love at first sight?: He used to somewhat when he was younger, but now that he is older and wiser, he feels that love is not something, which blooms at first sight but has to be nourished and tended to over time.

Tagged by: @zaunseye

Tagging: @piranhasbreath (Zeri and Tresh), @ferinehuntress (Ahri and Vi), @jynxd (Ekko and Briar), @blackrosesmatron, @realmyths (Vi and Caitlyn), @elisethetraveller, @moxxietude (Anti!Moxxie), @countlessrealities (Summer), @mythicspiration (Ezrael), @playgroundmonsters (Ran)

[greyghoulclub]

Mungrove Week Prompt 7

written for @mungroveweek

ao3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/47170018

(Please read the tags on this and exit if there are any kinks you are uncomfortable with)

R-18, minors DNI

It was just a bet. 

Billy was repeating that to himself as he stared down at the maid’s costume. Eddie had even included some blonde cat ears he’d bought from Etsy. Said they would match Billy’s hair. 

The outfit was simple: a black minidress with white detailing and an apron. Eddie had also included some white thigh-high socks that he said would look great on Billy. It was just an outfit that he was going to wear for three hours at most, he thought to himself. 

Eddie had been waaaay too happy when he handed over the bag. Grinning like the Cheshire cat when he said, “This is going to make your tits look great.”

When he put it on, he found that the top of the dress had some corsetting in the top so it pushed his pecs up, as if he had cleavage. The thigh-high socks were a little tight around the tops of his thighs but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He looked at himself in the mirror near his and Eddie’s bed, taking in the sight of himself. He looked hot. No other way to put it. The dress hugged his sides in a way that showed off the work he had put in for his abs, it was like he was a marble statue draped in silk.

He hadn’t realised that Eddie had somehow materialised behind him while he was admiring his reflection. 

“Jesus Eds I didn’t know you were here too,” Billy looked at his boyfriend in the mirror, furrowing his brow a little. Eddie laughed at him and wrapped his arms around Billy, eyes dark. 

“I can’t let you go to the party like that,” Eddie grumbled into Billy’s shoulder. Billy was sure Eddie would be pouting if he could see the bottom half of his face. 

“What do you mean, I can’t? This was your idea!” Billy would play along because he knew the reward if he was a good boy. Eddie’s fingers dug into his sides, if he gripped any tighter Billy thinks he would rip the dress. Billy rocked his hips back a little bit, knowing that this is what Eddie wanted. 

“Babe, if you do that we might not even make it to the bed,” Eddie pulled Billy’s hips back towards him, one hand sliding up the skirt. “Oh? You’re wearing the panties that came with it?” Eddie snapped the lace against Billy’s leg and kissed the back of Billy’s shoulder. 

“Eddie…” Billy whined, he liked this more dominant Eddie, his tone of voice was hitting all the right buttons for Billy and the teasing touches just made him want more. But Billy had something else in mind. 

“What do you want babygirl? Do you wanna go to the party or just stay here?” 

Hard choice when Billy looked this good in the dress, but he also didn’t want to go to Stacie’s dumb party in the first place, and Eddie was offering a very good alternative. He turned around to face Eddie, biting his lip and pulling the beanpole of a man down for a kiss. He could taste the old tobacco and mint chewing gum on his lips. Eddie kissed back harder as if his life depended on it. 

“So I’m guessing that this means you wanna stay?” The taller boy said in between kisses. He thought right when Billy pushed him down against the bed and straddled his hips, grinding down a little, making Eddie groan. 

“You look so good, baby,” Eddie spoke very appreciatively as he reached up and cupped Billy’s pecs in his hands, squeezing just a little. It made Billy whimper, Eddie taking this as his cue to squeeze again. 

Eddie peaked under Billy’s skirt, “Oh you even wore the panties,” Eddie’s voice took on a darker note when he saw the black lace. “You’re so good for me baby.” Billy leaned down and kissed Eddie, a small moment of tenderness before the fun started.

He tugged the panties down, his erect cock springing free. God, he was leaking so much precum already. Eddie started to unbuckle himself, wiggling his stupid skinny jeans down. Billy shuffled himself over to hover over Eddie’s chest and lifted his skirt. He then started to tug at himself, letting the precum dribble onto Eddie’s tongue. He groaned from deep in his chest and tilted Eddie’s chin upwards so he swallowed what he had in his mouth. 

“Good boy.”

Eddie glowed at the praise, body compliant to whatever Billy wished. The latter settled himself between Eddie’s legs, pulling his cock free from his underwear and giving it a couple of pumps. Eddie’s legs twitched around him, whimpering when Billy teased the tip with his tongue. 

“Uh, god Billy your mouth, oh my god,” Eddie was near incoherent, letting out moans and whimpers as Billy sucked him off. Billy felt Eddie’s fingers tangle in his hair, holding him down. 

“Billy please…” Eddie’s voice sounded so wrecked like he was going to blow his load at any point. Maybe he was but Billy didn’t want that just yet. 

“Not yet sweet boy, I wanna ride you,” Billy said after giving one last lick along Eddie’s length. Eddie whined and arched his hips once the stimulation was gone. Billy decided to tease Eddie a little by fingering himself in front of him, showing that it felt good while Eddie didn’t get any pleasure. 

���Billy, you look so good,” Eddie started to jack himself a little, looking a bit confused when Billy stopped him. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Billy growled at him, Eddie’s eyes looked like they were pure black, and his breathing was slow. All of his focus was purely on Billy as he lowered himself down on Eddie’s cock. 

“Eddie… oh fuck, you feel so good. Filling me so well,” Billy groaned, wriggling his hips a little. Eddie wasn’t a shower but good lord he was a grower. Eddie couldn’t even speak, he was just trying to breathe while he was overcome with pleasure when Billy started moving. His thighs flexed as he fucked himself on Eddie’s cock. 

“Ah, Billy… ah…” Eddie’s brain was scrambled from the pleasure. Even forming a thought that made sense was difficult. He just kept bucking his hips to match Billy’s movements.

“C’mon Eds, hard-” Billy cut himself off with a moan when Eddie managed to hit his prostate dead on. Billy ground his hips down to meet each of Eddie’s thrusts, the bed shaking from the movement of their bodies. 

“Billy, I’m gonna… I’m gonna,” Eddie’s hips stuttered as he came into Billy, his eyes rolling backwards in pure bliss. Billy kept moving, chasing his own orgasm, making Eddie squirm just a little from the overstimulation. He stroked his cock as he bounced, giving Eddie a show. 

“Nuh, Eddie, I’m close,” Billy moaned, tilting his head back so his neck was exposed. Doing all the things he knew that drove Eddie wild. The pressure coiled in his belly, and his strokes got less fluid. He bucked into his hand a couple of times and then he was coming over his hand. 

Eddie was still lying in a blissed-out state, mouth slightly open. Billy hissed slightly when he got off of Eddie and lay beside him on the bed. He took his come-covered hand and wiped some with his finger into Eddie’s mouth. 

“Swallow, bats,” he whispered into the other boy’s ear, using the pet name he gave Eddie because of his tattoo. He watched Eddie’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed what was on his tongue. “Good,” he punctuated the sentence with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. 

“That was way better than going to the party,” Eddie laughed a little, still recovering from the aftershocks. 

“Definitely.”

[mapledental]

Professional Teeth Whitening vs. At-Home Teeth Whitening: Which is Right for You?

A bright, dazzling smile is often associated with good health, confidence, and vitality. However, over time, various factors can cause teeth to become discoloured, leading many people to seek out teeth-whitening solutions. In this blog, we'll delve into the causes of discoloured teeth, how teeth whitening works, its effectiveness, and the differences between professional teeth whitening and at-home teeth whitening options.

Causes of Discolored Teeth

Before diving into teeth whitening methods, it's essential to understand what causes teeth to become discoloured in the first place. Some common culprits include:

1. Staining Foods and Beverages: Coffee, tea, red wine, and certain fruits and vegetables contain pigments that can stain tooth enamel over time.

2. Tobacco Use: Smoking or chewing tobacco can lead to stubborn stains on teeth.

3. Poor Oral Hygiene: Inadequate brushing and flossing can allow plaque and tartar to build up, contributing to discolouration.

4. Aging: As we age, tooth enamel naturally wears down, revealing the yellowish dentin beneath.

5. Medications: Certain medications, such as tetracycline antibiotics, can cause teeth to darken or stain.

6. Genetics: Some people are genetically predisposed to having thicker or thinner enamel, which can affect tooth colour.

How Does Teeth Whitening Work?

Teeth whitening treatments aim to remove stains and discolouration from the enamel and dentin of teeth, restoring a brighter, whiter appearance. Most whitening products contain either hydrogen peroxide or carbamide peroxide as the active bleaching agent. These chemicals break down stains into smaller, less concentrated particles, making the teeth appear whiter.

Does Teeth Whitening Work on All Teeth?

While teeth whitening can effectively remove many types of stains, it may not be suitable for everyone or every type of discolouration. For example:

Yellow Teeth: Teeth that have yellowed due to ageing or surface stains typically respond well to whitening treatments.

Brown or Gray Teeth: Teeth with brown or grey discolouration, especially those caused by medications or trauma, may be less responsive to whitening and may require alternative treatments like veneers or bonding.

Dental Restorations: Teeth whitening treatments do not work on dental restorations such as fillings, crowns, or veneers. These materials do not respond to bleaching agents, so they may need to be replaced to match the newly whitened teeth.

 Teeth Whitening Options

When it comes to teeth whitening, there are two primary options available: professional teeth whitening and at-home teeth whitening kits.

Professional Teeth Whitening:

Performed by Dentists: Professional teeth whitening is typically performed by a dentist or dental hygienist in a dental office setting.

Stronger Bleaching Agents: Dentists use higher concentrations of bleaching agents than those found in over-the-counter products, allowing for more dramatic results.

Customized Treatment: Dentists can tailor the whitening treatment to the individual patient, taking into account factors such as tooth sensitivity and desired level of whitening.

Faster Results: Professional whitening treatments often yield faster results, with noticeable improvement after just one session.

At-Home Teeth Whitening:

Over-the-Counter Kits: At-home whitening kits are available at pharmacies and grocery stores and typically include whitening gels, strips, or trays.

ower Concentrations: These kits contain lower concentrations of bleaching agents compared to professional treatments, which may result in slower or less dramatic whitening.

Convenience: At-home whitening kits offer the convenience of being able to whiten your teeth on your schedule, without needing to visit a dentist's office.

Cost-Effective: At-home whitening kits are generally more affordable than professional treatments, making them a popular option for budget-conscious individuals.

Differences Between Professional Teeth Whitening and At-home Teeth Whitening

1. Effectiveness: Professional treatments tend to deliver faster and more dramatic results due to the use of higher concentrations of bleaching agents.

2. Customization: Professional whitening treatments are customized to each patient's needs, while at-home kits offer a one-size-fits-all approach.

3. Supervision: Professional whitening is performed under the supervision of a dental professional, ensuring safety and efficacy.

both professional teeth whitening and at-home whitening kits can effectively brighten your smile, but the best option for you will depend on your budget, desired level of whitening, and personal preferences. Consulting with a dentist can help you determine the most suitable whitening method for your individual needs. Remember, a radiant smile can boost your confidence and leave a lasting impression, so choose the option that works best for you and enjoy the benefits of a brighter, whiter smile!

Looking for professional teeth whitening solutions in Victorville, CA? Look no further than Maple Dental! Our experienced dentists in Victorville, CA, offer expert teeth whitening services to help you achieve a brighter, more radiant smile. With our personalized treatment plans and high-quality whitening products, you can enjoy fast and effective results. 

Say goodbye to stains and discoloration and hello to a confident smile! Contact Maple Dental today at 760-949-7274 to schedule your teeth whitening appointment with our skilled dentist in Victorville, CA. Your journey to a whiter smile starts here!

[thevindicativevordan]

Have you seen the Comics Broke Me hashtag on Twitter? Some truly harrowing stories about how the industry chews up and spits out its talent like cheap tobacco.

Aftershock in particular seems to have been real pieces of shit. I'm glad we're seeing people air the dirty laundry of the comics industry. Comics are an amazing medium but the comics industry fucking sucks. Your best chance of making it as a creator is slaving away in the trenches for scraps, before one of the Big 2 hires you to do corporate comics for a while. You get the "privilege" of still receiving scraps while they take your stories and turn them into billion dollar movies/video games/TV shows/cartoons/merchandise, and if you're insanely lucky you build a name for yourself and can do indie work where you can finally get paid. Alternatively you can make the leap to Hollywood and make a living that way. Most creators though? They just get chewed up and spit out, particularly artists who do 90% of the work.

[babybluelove2]

what listening to too much lesley gore as a thirteen-year-old in the present time will do to you (if you are a female ben hanscom and also being stalked by a demon clown) (alternatively titled: i’ll cry)

is this anything ? does anyone care about the extremely niche version of the losers club that i made up in my head where they are all girls and also dating ? ive been having fem ben hanscom thoughts so much that i thought i would share. u can take this if u want to

~♡~

Ben Hanscom was having a bad day, to put it in schoolgirl language. The talking-to-your-mother-crying bad day, the she-holds-you-and-tells-you-everything-will-be-alright bad day. Except that wasn’t it. Because Ben Hanscom has had bad days before. Schoolgirl bad days. And she has learned to not go to her mom after them; it just makes her feel worse.

Anyway, she had this feeling, gut deep, higher-power-level, that this was not a schoolgirl bad day. That this was just going to be a bad life, at least for a little bit. Things were bad. She could deal. She was good at distractions, at keeping herself company.

Ben Hanscom was a dreamer. A Lisbon girls dreamer. (Her words; she had watched The Virgin Suicides once when she was eleven because she heard one of the characters was named Bonnie, like her. Upon watching, she felt connected to the Lisbon girls. Like if they were her friends, they would understand her in the ways her mother never could. 

Bonnie Lisbon hangs herself at the end of the movie.)

She was thirteen now, Cecelia’s age, and had taken to writing in the margins of her favorite books, the ones she kept close to her heart. She liked poetry the best, it described the things she couldn’t form the words to herself, the liminal loneliness that permeated her very being.

Thirteen-year-old Ben Hanscom’s existence was poetry and music. Because music could fill a room. Music could be laughter or tears. Music could be It’s My Party by Lesley Gore. 

According to the tobacco-chewing man who worked at the Virginia record store, Miss Lesley was “vintage”. Ben hadn’t known that by vintage, he had meant irreparably damaged. It’s My Party was one of the only songs on her I’ll Cry If I Want To vinyl that played all the way through. She didn’t mind much. It was her favorite song on the album. A basic pick, but Ben didn’t pride herself on her individuality. The things that made her noticeable in a crowd were the things she hated most about herself. 

So it was an It’s-My-Party bad day, although Melanie Martinez’s rendition of the melody was more fitting objectively. She sat on the cheap mattress on the floor of her new bedroom and cried, Lesley Gore singing slightly off-key in the background. Today, the middle of March, was her first day at Derry Middle School. It was shit.

As a sort of first-world survival mechanism, and because of her destiny as an empath, Ben could sort out the good people from the bad. When she was little, she insisted on seeing the good in everyone, but she found with moving and new schools and a distinct lack of friends that she never got close enough to anyone to find their good. Usually this meant a lot of neutral. People would blend into the background, the type to not interfere if things got ugly when the bad presented itself. 

At Derry Middle School, there was no neutral, just bad. It vibrated in the sound waves of her teachers’ voices refusing to call her Ben (“Don’t be silly, Bonnie. Ben is a boy’s name.”), dilating the pupils of her judgmental classmates’ glares. At lunch, the only flavor she tasted was the putrid peach of anxious nausea. There were no empty tables when she entered the cafeteria, so she stood around awkwardly for about a minute-and-a-half and then hid out in the bathroom for the rest of the period.

The people were mean. It took her all of five minutes to run into Henry Bowers, who told her she’d better leave his town before she regretted it, like she had a choice in the matter, and said a few choice words about her weight that would inevitably take residence in the back of her thoughts always. She slipped out of the back door after the end-of-day bell, avoiding him and going back to her aunt’s house, her new home.

The record skipped. It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to. Cry if I want to–cry–cry–cry–

Like a girl with a car-crash-induced stutter, the song caught on the word cry, over and over. It was enough to elicit a reaction from the distraught teenager in the room. A little on the nose, she thought bitterly. Ben rubbed her tears into her complexion as she went to remove the record.

She had meant to hit the off button. Someone else would say their finger slipped, but Ben knew better. 

Her book of fairytales was packed away in a box somewhere. It was pink with golden sparkles and a built-in ribbon-bookmark. She didn’t need it in front of her to recount any of its tales. Sleeping Beauty was her best friend in second grade, far more reliable than anything else in her life. She used to write little confessions to Aurora, schoolgirl-bad-day musings next to her hopes and dreams.

Sleeping Beauty was cursed to prick her finger on the spinning wheel, just like Ben Hanscom was cursed to prick her finger on the needle of her record player, only she didn’t fall asleep for a hundred years.

She gasped a breath in when it happened, sticking her pointer into her mouth where it was bleeding. 

The music was still playing–cry–copper was on her tongue–cry–everything felt surreal; maybe she had taken her daydreaming habit too far this time–cry–her mom always said she was too separated from reality.

The vinyl shattered. She screamed, startled, covering her face out of instinct. A shard lodged itself into her arm, right through her baggy hoodie. Another cut through her baggy sweatpants. 

She scanned the room, maybe looking for her fairy godmother to step into view, rambling about how that wasn’t supposed to happen and she’s sorry, let me clean you up, darling. Or for someone entirely human to tell her she was going insane. But she was alone, the sudden quiet buzzy and disorienting.

After a pause that ensured one of her cousins wasn’t going to come and investigate, Ben moved to the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to look at the vinyl residue littering the carpet.

She was crying again by the time she pulled the pieces of vintage Lesley Gore out of her body. She had stopped some time before and was paying for it. Her tear ducts had finally caught up to produce sobs that died with the air that struggled to reach her lungs. Her clothes were ripped, and she wasn’t really in a position to afford new ones. She was in pain too, though she didn’t really feel it; all of her senses were being eclipsed by phantom hearing–cry–cry–cry–

It met Ben Hanscom that day, and her life would never be the same.

(@amorasalvatore i posted this whoops ty for listening to my ramblings)

[sbsbbshdj]

My headcannons #3

-Too-ticky sharpens her claws on a tree not only so that they do not interfere with her, but also so that she does not injure anyone

-the Mymble's tail can easily lift the weight of Too-Ticky (or all her 33 children)

-Too-ticky is a jack-of-all-trades she helps the whole moominvalley and learns new things quickly

- Mymble Jr goes into shock when she sees something that reminds her of the Joxter.Funny example:when Too-Ticky met Mymble Jr's parents, she told her that she liked her mother (not in a romantic way, of course) and she involuntarily fell into shock, remembering the same words of the Joxter

-Too-ticky uses tobacco in all forms-smokes from a pipe and just smokes regular cigarettes, makes them an alternative in winter, smokes hand-rolled cigarettes (even chews it.We call it "Snus", here's a coincidence :)) what scared Snufkin.

- Mymble Jr sews suits for her friends.she doesn't do it very often because of the fact that she babysits the younger ones

-little My does not control his tail, he involuntarily begins to wag like a dog's tail at the sight of a person dear to her

- Too-Ticky and Mymble Jr have their own secret place (in fact, it's just a hill that is overgrown with grass the size of the usual growth of a resident of Moomin Valley) they got married there.They usually spend time there basking in the sun.

[plaguery]

would they smoke or not

(obviously important oc information)

romy- already smoking. cigs & weed. it all just makes her More Romy (also gives vergil edibles without telling him)

siv- weed but not cigs (alternate version of her chews tobacco). only once in a long while. but shes highly suggestible so if some one close to her was stoner level… well… (also a crybaby when high)

magdal & senryo- lumped together bc i theyd hotbox together/with others but not smoke on their own. they dont do cigs. surprisingly not all over each other when high, magdal thinks it can do Everything and senryo is sleepy

pomene- smoking salvia, baby. weed occasionally. they have to do smaller doses bc they get high very easily. categorically her highs would generally be considered bad trips to pretty much everyone else but they just go This Is Fine ✨️

lurley- already on the second pack of the day. lungs crying out. doesnt care for anything else. ends up babysitting pomene

[dethharmonic]

Community Gardens

Otto Octavius x Reader; Alternate Universe - Magic Summary: A rough meeting turns into a offer that you'd be foolish to refuse. Chpt 2: terms and conditions

[prev]  [next]

[click here for the fic on ao3]

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

With a few concerning pops from your joints, you rose from the ground. Unsure if the shiver that passed through your body was from nerves or the dampness from the earth seeping through layers of clothes, you glanced at the man before you. The arms had the air of indifference on the surface, seemingly minding their own but hovering near at any motion from you. With the light of the near-full moon, you take in his features. Oh fuck. Handsome. Oh nono no. Suddenly the ivy covered stone of the building was very interesting.

    “Eyes on me.” The sudden words snapped your attention back to him. “Good.” A faint smile ghosting his lips when your breath hitched at the smallest of praise. In no hurry to continue speaking, he leisurely pawed through his pockets. After a moment he pulled out a small pipe and matching tin box. His movements seemed like they were deliberately extending your nervousness, like a cat playing with a fresh catch.

     “I’m in need of an assistant.” He finally spoke, popping the tin open to reveal a sweet smelling tobacco. Though he wanted eye contact, apparently it was only necessary from your end as he continued the process of filling the smoking pipe while speaking. “Keeping up with this garden and countless other tedious little things is impacting my studies. Having someone to trek into town for supplies would also be ideal, as they are….less than thrilled to see me.” He let out a sigh of irritation, finally looking from the pipe to you. A gleam of something in that look. Perhaps satisfied you were still keeping your focus on him?

     “I’m assuming this is the only option where I avoid getting cursed or murdered or curse...murdered.” You squinted before muttering a confused “Cursetered? Custard….hmm.” under your breath.

He gave a noncommittal shrug. Not a great response!

     “This is the only option that benefits us both, I believe. You’re more than welcome to decline.”  Your brow furrowed at his words. “You can help yourself to the garden within reason, I do have some rarer plants that are off limits. In addition to a salary of course, I’m not a complete monster.” With a flourish of his wrist, a small flame spouted in his palm. Raising the pipe to his lips, he lit it with redirected fire that licked down his thumb. Extinguishing the flame by clenching his hand into a fist.

     “Wh...you. Fire.” you blurted out, immediately losing all train of thought.

     “How astute. Yes, that was fire. What about it?” The words blew out in a cloud of smoke.

     “Out of thin air!! How did-- that’s a stupid question.” You sucked in a breath in an attempt to gather your thoughts, deeply exhaling before continuing. “Would you teach me? Magic, I mean. I’d even take a cut in pay if you’d be willing!” Unsure of why it only just sunk in to your brain that a magic user could indeed use magic (wow!). “My grandmother was a witch but she passed when I was just a baby. The most I was formally taught was a few spell enhanced herbal remedies.” Almost resigned to a negative response, you started to chew on a cuticle. Anxiety is a real killer for nice looking nails.

     “I don’t see what it could hurt. With a basic understanding of magic you could help me with more complex spells as well. Yeah, sure.”

     “YES.” Blinded by excitement, you jumped up and high-fived the open claw of a nearby arm. Fully not expecting you to do that, the man tumbled forward and gripped your shoulder with his free hand. The arm seemed to give you an incredulous look that screamed “Well, I never!!”

     “Don’t. Don’t ever do that again.” You cringed at the quick sharp squeeze he gave you before straightening back up.      “Sorry! I shouldn’t have touched your arm things like that!! It won’t happen again,…...Sir?” You didn’t know his name. You never offered yours. Both of you agreed to terms of employment and neither thought “Maybe I should know what to call this other person.” This isn’t entirely your fault, at least! Quickly you blurted out your name, paused, and pointed at yourself. He fixed you with an unimpressed look and exhaled his smoke directly into your face. He didn’t wait for you to finish coughing before speaking.

     “Otto Octavius.” He gestured his pipe towards himself, mocking your earlier pointing. “Though won’t say I’m not partial to ‘Sir.’ Also, these are called actuators. Not ‘Arm Things.’ I’m surprised the village folk haven’t filled you in already.”

     “I’m, uh, not a fan of rumors.” You softly said, loosely gripping the side of your neck and avoiding his gaze. Even if you had been looking at him, his expression was unreadable. An actuator nudged his arm, startling him out of a thought, and offered up your bag. He glanced at the contents, handing it to you after a moment.

     “Consider the cabbage a sign-on bonus. I wont need assistance for the next two days, so take that time to rest. I expect you here at dawn on the third day.”     “Thank you, Otto. I’ll try not to disappoint you, Sir.” You said with a wink. Why did you wink???? Who knows. You tightly held the strap of your bag with your uninjured hand, face burning with embarrassment. “Okay, bye!” You quickly fled to the rock wall, ungracefully scrambling over it.

     “There is a gate.” He called after you, trying to bite back a laugh.

     “GOOD TO KNOW. I’LL KEEP THAT IN MIND.” You shouted back from the road, already making quite a distance by power-walking away. Very successful heist, all things considered.

It was still a bit of a walk to your home from his, carefully trying to avoid occasional hazards on the abandoned road. While the conditions of the path were not the greatest, it was still far quicker to use this road than the supposed ‘main road’ of the nearby town. You wouldn’t have even known this one lead right to the heart of the town if you hadn’t been driven by curiosity one day and walked the straight path to its end from your small home. The connection to the mid-sized village was overgrown, almost purposefully off putting, a large rock blocking half of the road’s mouth and a thick thorn bush on the other side. Whats even more amusing is that none of the townsfolk mentioned the road, even the person you purchased your house from directed you to the long path that let out next to the dwelling. While yes, it was a stones throw from the secluded home, it also took more than double the time to traverse it. (Especially seeing as your only transportation was your own legs.) The long road almost seemed to mimic the river flowing next to it, a small bridge at one point to cross the stream that connected the river to a nearby lake. All this effort to avoid using a road that Otto’s home happened to be on. I’m sure he wasn’t the least put off by the lack of townsfolk constantly walking by, judging by the short interaction you had with him tonight. Stealing vegetables in the dead of night may have also played a part in his demeanor. Possibly. Almost to the short path leading to your little shack, a lantern light ahead caught your eye. At the juncture of old and new roads a man stood, looking your way. A small sliver of fear ran through your spine, the closer you walked the clearer his unfriendly expression became.

     “What brings you down that road at this hour, little miss?” He hollered your way. You frowned, none of his damned business is what you were doing. Grabbing the key from your bag, you began up the walkway before thinking better of outright ignoring the stranger.

     “Nothing you need worry about.” You said with a controlled smile, stopping in front of your door. “Have a nice night.” With a small wave his way, you quickly entered your home and immediately locked the door back. Leaning back on it, you strained to hear if there was any response from the man, shoulders slumping in relief when he began walking away.

What is the point of a secluded home if people just loiter on the road next to it all willy-nilly. Letting out a frustrated puff of air, you pushed off the door and set to getting ready for sleep. Already exhausted, this past hour pushed well beyond your limits.

You all but threw yourself face first on to the stiff bed, groaning frustrations into the pillow before turning on your side. Lit by moonlight you took in the state of the small home. It was really more of a room, with a meager bathroom attached. The bed was situated next to the wall containing the bathroom door, a small basket of linens at the foot and a fireplace taking up the wall at the head. A handsome little table and two chairs were tucked into a corner, serving as a catch all while you were still settling in, a half empty chest of various items yet to be unpacked sitting underneath. The smallest kitchen sink and counter stood between the table and bathroom, light streaming through the home’s only window behind and reflecting off the metal. Finally you looked to the shelving next to the home’s entrance, the only item on it was a jar filled with wildflowers given to you by the child of the previous owner. A soft smile graced your face, interrupted by a violent yawn.

With a home, a job, and a possible tutor, it looked like your fresh start might actually turn out well. It may not be much but it was cozy. And it was yours.

[whitetail-smokeless]

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[model19]

A sneeze never meant much, and never needed more than a day to get over most little inconveniences like it. An allergy pill in the worst places was all the internal armor needed, and heavy rain meant occasionally being doused while trying to fight with a cheap umbrella.

For the last two days, all of that resiliency seems shed off. He was sprawled on the couch, limbs outstretched at all sides and half dressed. A sheet had been located and now halfway acquainted with the floor, sometimes dangling off his side before he would send it over his shoulders again. Nothing was comfortable, his chest was wracking with coughs at least once per hour, jerking him out of any dozing he was trying to relax into. Cigarettes were not happening, chewing tobacco failed as alternative with the rising amount of phelgm. The cold turkey effect had made him all the worse for temper.

When he would groan, his face was mostly pressed against an abused pillow, over warmed with time and crammed beneath himself when his stomach was rising, threatening to empty out wherever was quickest if he didn't command himself to swallow it down. Everything smelled foul. Maybe it was the trash can he'd dragged out that was ruining everything; the pleasant scent of meals was turning sour.

The glass of water at the end table is unreachable, though inches from him, his hand is a leaden weight that drops shy of the preciously cold elixir, the one pure solution that would not betray him if he could just get it down. Jigen, a man of decorum and cool-headed quips, was whining like a pathetic puppy in the rain.

[trainofcommand]

Tell us more of the cowboys and golden retrievers retrieving a weird scientist

Well, okay then! :)

Cracky flash ficlet: Retrieved, with Science (Cam Mitchell, Jonas Quinn, Rodney McKay, two golden retrievers, cowboys 1950s AU).

"Those are some dumbass dogs for a cowboy," some idiot once said to Cam, his face scrunched up with disgust and derision. "Dumbest cowboy dogs I ever seen," he'd reiterated, drawing out the 'dumbest' into a slow drawl, and punctuating it by spitting a mouthful of tobacco on the ground.

The dogs in question – Killer and Fang – had looked up from where they'd been curled on the stoop of the little cabin where they all stay in the off-season, their mouths open, panting happily, exhausted from a long day of doing whatever the heck Cam had wanted them to do. He'd looked at the dogs, looked at the idiot who was talking, and figured to hell with him. Then he'd punched that idiot right in the mouth, smiling the whole while.

He'd kept on smiling while the guy spit out blood and a tooth, and smiled a little wider when Fang got up and ambled to stand between them, tail wagging, canines showing.

"Oh darn," Jonas had said when he came 'round the front of the cabin, buckets of fresh water from the well in each hand. "Insulting the dogs, huh?"

"Yup," Cam had replied, wiping his bloody hand on his shirt.

In the evening light, Killer and Fang's fur had gleamed golden, and so had Jonas's sun-bleached hair, and the idiot had looked at them all, thought better of trying anything, and walked away.

---

The truth is, golden retrievers make great dogs for a couple of cowboys out on the range.

They're loyal.

"They sure are," says Jonas.

They're energetic.

"Oh, definitely," Jonas agrees, as he bends to give Killer a good scratch.

They'll chew a man's leg off, just for the fun of it.

"Well, I'm not sure I agree with that one." But Jonas is smiling, so Cam doesn't have to argue about it.

And finally, they look fantastic in bandanas. Wholesome. Fetching. Downright red-ribbon-winning. "Heck yes, they do," Jonas says, nodding vigorously as he ties a new red bandana around Fang's neck. Cam likes it – the red looks great against Fang's fur, it makes her easy to spot from a distance, and it'll hide any blood after she sinks those teeth into an interloper's arm, or leg, or whatever's in biting distance that gets in her way.

"Ah, sure, Cam," Jonas says, stepping away and observing Fang's new look.

---

"Well, this is interesting," Jonas says, the evening that Killer trots up with what looks like a stick in his mouth. Turns out it's not a stick at all, unless it comes from a tree made of metal and covered in numbers and lines. Cam's seen a lot of trees out on the range, and he's never seen a tree like that.

Killer's path is followed, a few minutes later, by a guy who's huffing and puffing a little bit, his face red, his hands dirty, and his mouth yelling.  

Cam listens for a while, arms crossed, taking in the swearing, the exclamations about their sub-standard camp, the demands for something to eat, the admonitions that their food stores are inadequately out of reach from invasive wildlife, the complaints that it's now too late to safely get back to his own camp so he's going to have to stay with them for the night, and the accusations that Killer took an instrument that cost more than 'whatever the hell it is you two are' make in a month, which is really inconvenient, because there's science that needs to done.

Eventually the guy stops talking, mostly because he's alternating between chewing on a biscuit and tearing into some dried jerky. But even as he's eating, he's looking expectant, like he's waiting for some kind of response.

So Cam shrugs, reaches down and takes the metal instrument out of Killer's mouth and says, "Not like we can expect much else. He's a golden retriever."

Jonas nods and holds out an apple, just in case the scientist-guy is still hungry. Jonas is real welcoming like that.

Science-guy scowls but he takes the apple.

---

Cam doesn't listen much while science-guy and Jonas talk details. Mostly it's boring. Plus there are golden retrievers curled up on either side of him, the cattle are lowing in the distance, the sun's starting to sink below the horizon, and all together, that's just bound to make a guy sleepy.

"That is very interesting, Dr. McKay," Jonas says excitedly, not for the first time. "Right, Cam?"

Cam just hums because it'll make Jonas happy, and leans back against a tree stump, already dozing off.

---

Science guy heads out in the morning with several warm, freshly-baked biscuits wrapped in a bandana in one hand, his metal stick instrument thing in the other, two apples in his pockets, and what Cam guesses must be the minimum amount of grumbling and complaints that he allows himself each morning. He leaves behind some a whole bunch of quiet, which Cam is real grateful for, and a jaunty wave from Jonas, accompanied by, "Have fun with your science, Dr. McKay!"

He doesn't leave behind Killer, who gamely gets up, stretches, and trots off after him, tail held high and wagging. And that's a real son of a bitch, because Fang is going to get lonely, and Killer was wearing Cam's third-best back-up emergency bandana.

"So much for loyalty," he mutters, watching man and dog disappear into the edge of the forest.

Beside him, Fang rolls onto her back, kicking her feet into the air and flashing her fierce canines. "Don't worry," he tells her. "Next time we meet him, I'll let you gnaw his leg right off." She kicks her back feet a little harder, baring all her teeth, and wagging her tail so hard it makes her lose her balance, rolling onto her side.

Then she picks herself up and shakes, loose fur and pieces of grass flying everywhere, and she looks deadly as hell.

Cam feels real proud.

[krankenfranken]

i know you like the idea of a sweet, gentle momma for striker, but might i suggest my own personal alternative-- the roughest, toughest bitch to ever crawl out of the prairie. chews tobacco and spits brown goo at people. horrid posture, chipped horns, missing teeth, bathes once a moon. got rawdogged by a snake demons twelve years ago and is now raising his kid, and she's like a tiny goat-legged imp meanwhile her son is HUGE and she has to climb him like a lamppost to pull him by the ear whenever he's being a brat to her.

at the same time, behind the resting cunt face, utter lack of manners and concerning personal odour - she's sweet as pie. she loves her son very dearly, to the point of mother hen-ing him on occasion, to his grumpy protests. she's also got some sort of condition that has weakened her, so striker is understandably protective of her, cuz he needs to be a MAN and keep safe the lady of the house 😤 also she's the sort of mama to ruin any cool moments he has, so he's like about to leave on a hit or something, just had a whole arming up montage and all, and then she shows up with a lil tied up handkerchief and goes "a'ight junior, gotchu breakfast in 'ere, gotchu lunch, dinner too if y'sparse but ah'm nawt gon' lie ya could use some meat on ya bones... anyway here's sum morphine if ya get shot mugged a nurse for it, gotchu a bottle o' whiskey too, this 'ere severed hand to feed bombproof, n also--" meanwhile striker is sinking into the earth from embarrassment

Oh my goodness. when I tell you I had the WIDEST grin on my face when I read this

I can totally stand by this side of the story too. This idea gives me major Nicole Watterson vibes and I am aboutely for it

Thank you for suggesting this idea, I think I might take this into drawing consideration too or just make it a doodle by itself!

But this was a really neat idea

[treetownconfessions]

fliqpy smokes cigarettes on the occasion. i humbly offer him chewing tobacco as another alternative. he accepts it, chomps on it for a while as intended, and then swallows it. i tell him he is not supposed to eat it. he kills me on the spot and continues to eat it like a Sauce

.