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sailtoafarawayland · 4 years ago

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CS Modern AU

A/N: I planned on this being a a light one-shot, but my heart ran away with it and here is what we have...

Summary: If there was one thing Emma had learned, it was that falling didn't mean you broke forever, it just meant you had the opportunity to scrape up all the jagged pieces and move on. That's what she did, that's what she'd always done, but it turned out there was something she didn't know about falling, and that was that sometimes, if you landed in exactly the right place, it could put your broken pieces back together.

Rated T for now: language

Read on AO3 - FF

Special thanks to @kmomof4 for walking me through links! Hopefully these ones don’t block my post.

Chapter One

Not for the first time, but maybe for the last time, Emma cursed her stupidity.

It was usually something she did under her breath, a one-word expletive that would betray the self-doubt that plagued her if someone were to overhear.

She’d done it on a dark street when she was seventeen with her hands in the air, and again a few weeks later when those two pink lines appeared. There were plenty more—after two years of shattered hopes when she finally left Tallahassee in the rearview, and anytime she found herself thinking a one-night thing could maybe be something more if she just tried.

It was fair to say cursing her own stupidity was a familiar pastime. This time though, there was no one around to catch her in the moment of weakness—which was half the problem, if she was being honest with herself—so she didn’t mind really putting some feeling into it.

“Fuck!” she screamed, forcing out all of the frustration and regret, only to have it blown back against her face by a strong gust of wind. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Emma hadn’t been thinking—half the problem, since she was being honest with herself—but this was the first time that not thinking had led to such a precarious place, literally.

She forced herself to flex the fingers of her right hand, one at a time, carefully releasing the protruding lip of stone she clung to, pain blossoming as she moved her joints in a futile attempt to regain some feeling.

Rinse and repeat with the left.

She wasn’t dumb enough to try stretching her cramped legs—again—remembering how she’d lost her footing and slipped another five feet down, the top of the rocky bluff now a hopeless distance above her.

Her cell was god knows where. It had probably fallen out of her pocket somewhere in the woods, completely useless to her now—not that it mattered, there was no one who would be calling to look for her. The only certainty she had was that her payday was long gone—probably well on his way to Canada.

If there was any karma in the world, he’d get picked off by a hungry bear.

Maine had bears, she thought. Canada definitely did.

Fuck, her arms hurt. Every muscle in her body was taut and screaming. It was a simple fact that she wasn’t going to be able to hold onto the near vertical slope much longer. She forced her eyes open and glanced over her shoulder and down—really far down.

The slope below her dropped another ten feet or so before disappearing, leaving nothing but a clear view of the grey water swirling menacingly below—October was no time for a dip in the Atlantic—but at least it looked free of rocks from up here.

She tried not to think of the titanic.

While she was busy not thinking about underwater icebergs that could tear a ship apart, she also avoided thinking about what it would feel like to hit the ocean from twenty or thirty feet up.

Or what would happen if she hit a rock.

Fuck.

It was going to be one or the other, because right now—if she was being honest with herself, and she was—down was the only option. American Ninja Warrior she was not, and the amount of time she could hold on was running out. It seemed smart to drop while she still had some strength left for swimming, if any version of this could be called smart.

Another gust of wind ripped by and she made her choice. Just turn and push off. Hopefully, she’d clear the ledge below and hit open water, then she could swim to the stretch of shore she’d seen as she tumbled over the edge.

She could do it. People did this on TV all the time.

Gulping in a deep breath, she twisted, trying to maintain her footing enough that she could shove off the rock, but it turned out this stuff looked way easier in movies, and that in real life gravity was a bitch.

Gravel shifted and she lost any chance of getting momentum. A grunt was forced from her lungs as her side clipped the stony edge on her way down, then there was nothing but air and that sick weightlessness before she hit the water.

If she’d been able to think coherently, she would have cursed her stupidity—not for the first time—for thinking that water from twenty feet up would feel like anything other than concrete, but she wasn’t thinking.

The air had been knocked from her body with the force of a truck, replaced with pain—the pain of falling onto a pile of knives as the sea closed over her.

Freezing was the wrong word. The water was so cold it stabbed and burned, and she was only just lucid enough to remember not to open her mouth and scream. Her lungs threatened to burst and she kicked her legs violently, pain exploding in her side as she struggled toward the lingering brightness that she was pretty sure was up.

She broke the surface just in time to receive the hard smack of a wave to the side of her face. Her mouth, already open to release the pressure inside her lungs, filled with salty water, and she choked, her head going under again.

It was a nightmare on repeat, except instead of waking up, she could feel herself sinking deeper into sleep.

Each kick she made was slower, weaker, her head barely clearing the surface as she struggled for just one more breath. Her legs felt like lead weights, and then like nothing. Up was so far, but it was hard to care because it was dark and quiet and she couldn’t feel anything to kick anyways.

Just as she was about to sink into that blissful nothingness, something latched onto her and yanked, the pain distant as she was dragged from the icy water.

xxx

Killian had been about to turn around, his last trap baited and dropped, when he heard it. He froze, his brow creasing as he cast his eyes across the peaceful sea, but there was no sign of another boat, of another person.

His brain told him he was hearing things—it wouldn’t be the first time—but his gut told him something else. You didn’t just imagine hearing someone yell fuck, at least he didn’t, and people didn’t just yell such things for no reason. It was strange though, because this was a remote drag of the coast and, honestly, there wasn’t another boat in sight.

Wiping the hair plastered across his eyes aside, he looked back toward land and finally caught movement. There was a flash of something gold on the rocks as the wind blew, and something red.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, almost not believing what his eyes were telling him.

The bait bag fell from his hand and he rushed to get moving and turn the boat. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as the engine sputtered to life, and he urged the boat forward, faster and quicker than she would normally allow, but he was far—perhaps too far—and he knew that the waters beneath those cliffs were dangerous, riddled with underwater outcroppings of rock only visible at low tide.

Time seemed to slow despite the rush of the wind as his boat powered through the waves, his heart dropping and a curse tearing from his mouth as he watched the woman—he could see flashes of long, blonde hair whipping—pitch into the sea below. He was already moving at top speed, and there was nothing he could do except search the waves for a sign of her breaking the surface. He kept his eyes trained carefully on the spot she’d fallen and pulled closer, praying to any gods listening that he wouldn’t catch a rock. He was unable to see them beneath the murky water, but was unwilling to simply leave the woman out of worry over himself.

His eyes caught movement and he cried out as he saw a face break the surface, her mouth open and gasping as another low wave rocked over her, sending her back down. He adjusted course quickly, needing to bring the boat closer to reach her. Again, she surfaced, her arms clawing toward air as she managed a small breath before sinking back under. The wake from his boat wasn’t helping, and as he watched the water slip by him, he picked out the shadow of a rocky ridge to his right. She’d been lucky, though perhaps not so lucky as to be rescued by someone who kept bloody safety equipment aboard.

He never thought he’d have to worry about someone else…

He let the engine stall and rushed to the side as the boat drifted to where he’d last seen her struggling, but as he peered hopefully into the frigid gloom, nothing looked back. Despite the adrenaline rushing through his body, he could have sworn his heart stopped, only starting again when he caught a flash of red. He leaned—nearly threw himself—over the rail, his hand shooting into the icy waves where he’d caught a glimpse of her, his fingers wrapping tightly in her hair and pulling, but the drag was nearly impossible. He couldn’t get her like this. Knowing he was tempting fate—and wouldn’t it be cruel, for her to finally give in now—he let go of his grip on the boat and leaned further, his left hand joining the other as he struggled against the sea. His fingers scrambled and found purchase in something, perhaps a jacket. He yanked upwards, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm as he fought to keep his grip from loosening, hauling her out of the waves and over the rail of his boat with every last ounce of his strength.

Pushing aside his own exhaustion and the crippling pain in his left arm, he rolled her onto her side and watched as seawater ran out of her nose and mouth. Her skin was pale and tinted blue, her eyes closed and her chest completely still.

“Come on, love,” Killian pleaded, leaning down to try and catch if there was even the faintest breath, but there was nothing.

He pinched her nose and covered her icy lips with his own, breathing into her once, twice—five breaths, watching her chest rise as her lungs filled, but she didn’t stir. Dread settled in his gut as he crossed his hands over her chest and began compressions, blood filling his mouth as he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, the pain in his arm and hand doubling as he put his weight into her chest. His mouth covered hers again, desperate to wake her, to bring her back. There was no one to call, the radio on his boat long broken, and he’d never regretted his disregard as much as in this moment.

Suddenly there was a rush of fluid against his mouth and he pulled away quickly, turning her body to the side as she started vomiting up seawater beneath him.

“That’s it, lass,” he encouraged, letting out a trembling breath as she sputtered and gasped for air before dropping back to the deck, still hovering somewhere beyond wakefulness.

It took only that brief moment of consciousness for the shivering to start, small quivers at her fingertips growing to violent body-wide tremors that made her teeth clatter and her legs pull inward toward her belly.

He yanked his oil jacket off and draped it over her, struggling with what needed to be done next. She was hypothermic, and she may very well die if he didn’t get her out of her wet things and warmed, but if he didn’t get the boat started and get them out of here, it would only be a matter of time before the waves rocked them into one of the deadly rocks that littered the coastline. Splitting the decision, he yanked off his outermost sweatshirt and stretched it across the deck, picking her up quickly and laying her on top of it, still huddled beneath the warmth of his jacket. It would do little good with her clothing still freezing her to the bone, but he needed to get them both to safety.

As he starts the engine, he’s sure he’s never prayed so much in his life, but the universe must have been on his side, because the finicky boat jumped to life. His prayers don’t stop as they move off the cliffs, but he manages to get them out with no incident, and the voyage home passes like the god of the sea himself is pushing them on—the lass must have someone watching over her, because he’s never had less trouble with his boat since he purchased the bloody thing.

The seconds it takes to slow her down and drift into the dock feels like an eternity, and he ties off quickly and returns to the woman he plucked from the sea, ignoring the pain as he lifts her and rushes up the path towards his cabin. He can feel her shaking against him, and he’s grateful because it means she still has a chance, that she hasn’t slipped away.

He throws himself against the warped front door and barrels into the cabin, swallowing his relief at the warmth. He’ll have to radio in for her, but it can wait until he gets her out of her wet clothes and warmed. He steps easily out of his over-large boots and carries her to the rug nearest the woodstove, stretching her out and peeling off the sopping layers of clothing. A leather jacket and long-sleeved thermal, then her jeans—almost impossible to slide off her skin, skin that’s barely warmer than when he pulled her from the waves—and he moves faster, cognizant of her shallow breathing and shuttered eyes. She’s most certainly hypothermic.

God, it’s been so long since he’s had this much depending on him.

When he finally manages to tug her boots and jeans off, he snatches a quilt from the sofa and wraps it around her limp form, leaving her in the warmth radiating from the stove. The light from the fire casts her cheeks with a sunny glow, making her look more alive than he fears she may be.

He glances toward the two-way, but decides it can wait. She needs more warmth than the quilt, and he rushes off to the bedroom, returning with some of his own items—a warm pair of flannel pants and an oversized thermal. Removing her wet things has certainly lifted some of the pall about her, and when he peels back the blanket, he can see that her lips are less blue, though her body is still trembling from bone-deep cold.

For the first time he really looks at her, swallowing roughly. He knows he should remove her underthings—the black bra trimmed with lace and matching panties—and tries to remind himself it isn’t an abuse of her state, and she hopefully won’t see it that way once she wakes. The garments are soaked, and though they don’t cover much, she won’t warm with them against her skin. Knowing that doesn’t stop the pang in his gut as he carefully slips the straps from her shoulders and unclasps the back, exposing her breasts before he quickly yanks the shirt over her wet hair and down, restoring her modesty. He takes a moment to squeeze the water from her long tresses and wraps the quilt around her torso before shimmying her panties down. He keeps his eyes steadily focused on the far wall, but he can feel her damp curls brush against his fingers as he lowers the hem, and god help him he’s praying again, and he’s not even sure what for. He fumbles the scrap of lace over her feet and replaces it with the soft, warmth of his pajama bottoms, the task not made any simpler by his steadfast refusal to look at what he’s doing, but at least he can sleep knowing he refrained from taking advantage of her unconscious state by ogling her.

Once she’s completely dry and wrapped in blankets by the fire, her breathing steadies and her skin begins to truly warm, color flushing her cheeks once again. He feels comfortable leaving her side for a moment and gathers her wet things, laying them across chairs near the stove so they’ll dry. He searches the pockets, but finds no form of identification to provide the police with. Now that she seems a safe distance from harm, he allows himself the first chance to puzzle over what in the hell she was doing on the cliffs by herself. She certainly hadn’t been dressed for hiking in this weather.

He checks to make sure she is still peaceful and well before he crosses the cabin and leans down in front of the two-way radio. He switches on the transmitter and picks up the handheld, speaking clearly.

“This is Captain to SBPD, do you read me?”

He moves the radio back to receive and listens to the white noise, waiting for a response. Another glance toward the rug, but his words don’t seem to have pulled her from her exhaustion. After a full minute of nothing he hits the switch and repeats his call, but there’s no acknowledgement from the other side. He checks the frequency, making a few adjustments and trying once more.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, switching back and dropping the handheld on the table. Of course, this would be one of those times the two-way was buggered.

A slow groan escapes from the pile of blankets on the floor and he rushes to her side. He’ll fiddle with blasted thing when she’s in a better state. Lowering himself to the rug beside her, he feels her brow with the back of his hand, happy that she’s returning to a normal, human temperature. He carefully lifts the blanket from her feet and checks her toes. They’re colder than the rest of her and he wraps his large hands around them, trying to impart some warmth.

It’s then that he realizes the rush of adrenaline is fading, the freezing cold of his sweatshirt sinking into his skin alongside the steady, lancing pain that shoots up his arm. He tucks the blanket back around her bare feet and stands up, shedding his layers as he stumbles into the bedroom in search of something warmer for himself.

For the next hour, the woman alternates between silence and noises of discomfort, though she seems put at ease when he whispers wordless things beside her. Once she settles into a truly peaceful sleep, he pulls back the blankets so she doesn’t overheat and pours himself a glass of rum, nursing it at her side. It barely takes the edge off the pain still twisting in his hand, but he doesn’t dare to drink more.

He knows he should go see to the boat and the things he left off when he spotted her, but can’t bring himself to go. The image of her tumbling form the cliff into the water below replays in his mind, and he thinks again that she must be owed something by the universe to have avoided hitting any of the rocks. He hadn’t noticed any obvious damage when he stripped her of her wet clothing, but he also knows it may take some time for deep bruises to come to the surface. If she were to wake and panic while he was gone, he’d never forgive himself for putting her through more undue stress. So instead, he rests his back against the sofa and studies her face as she sleeps. Her hair is drying into a beautiful, tangled halo of gold around a face framed by high cheeks and beautiful bow-shaped lips. Her eyes were green, he recalls, seeing them flash in his memory.

She snuggles against his legs in her sleep, perhaps looking for more warmth, and he carefully tucks the blanket around her shoulders once more, his chest tightening as she releases a soft exhale against his knuckles.

Unbidden, his thoughts lurch back through the years, to another time, another place, another woman who breathed a sigh against his skin, only to turn and disappear from his life. His hand tightens around the glass and he pushes the memories away. Memories of her often led to memories of Liam, all of them wrapped up in his failings.

Failings that could have nearly cost someone else their life, he thinks, his eyes settling on the woman sleeping against his leg. The vision of her gasping at the surface, breaking the waves only to be pulled back down, it may very well haunt him the rest of his days. He should have had a working radio on the boat, a buoy to throw to her. He should have been anyone else, not half a cripple who could barely pull her out of the water.

He took another drag of the rum and silently begged that it would wash away more than just the chill from his bones, his eyes so caught in the fire as it burned that he didn’t notice her hand reach out and brush his, her fingertips wrapping contentedly around his own, somehow stilling the ache that never left them.

#Captain Swan #cs fanfic #cs fic #emma and hook #broken things and seaside remedies #sailtoafarawayland

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scenariosofkonoha · 6 years ago

Note

Winter headcanon for Shino and Kiba with their s/o, thank you in advance!

Hey Anon! Sorry for the wait! Thank you for the ask. I’m glad I got to write something seasonal for these two. They are a little short I hope you don’t mind and I really hope you like it! ~ Admin Little Lace 🎀

Shino

Shino loves the outdoors. When given the choice he’d rather but outside in the clean air “experiencing the ecosystem” (his words) than shut up inside. Well…during the warmer months that is.

The resident bug expert is not a fan of cold or wet, so winter in the leaf is not his ideal time of year. This is generally when he stays inside, slowly developing a touch of cabin fever.

To combat the feeling of antsiness, he takes up reading. He can finally get through all the books his busy schedule didn’t permit him to finish. This is also the time he can catch up on his etymology studies. Taking painstaking hours figuring out the breeding patterns of a genus of beetle that will be the ultimate partner in battle.

The shinobi will likely spend all of his free time in just this fashion if someone doesn’t step in. When he was younger it was his teammates job, dragging their friend from the house with the promise of adventure. Kiba going on about ��snow brawls’ and Hinata, gently saying how happy she would be if he came with them. But as he grew older the task fell to his S/O, forcing their lover to at least spend some time enjoying the season.

“You’ve got to get out of your cocoon sometime,” they grinned, pulling his hand. Taking Shino away from his lower study table and out of his bedroom door.

This is task is easier said than done, as Shino believes there is no reason for him to be out in the cold. But nothing gets him to leave more effectively (and stay out) than the promise of of insects.

During the winter, some insects go through breeding process or metamorphosing. Ergo the perfect time for the bespectacled nin to collect new specimens that will be ready to reproduce in the warmer months.

His partner, simply happy he is leaving the house on his time off, does their best to assist him in finding the larvae and eggs. Sure…it isn’t a “traditional” winter activity, but to see his face brighten as he explains the genus and species of each of their finds, warms their heart.

“They should be fully grown by spring, these beetle can build an immunity to poison,” he said holding out a naked hand to them, the small ridged beetle perched on his finger tip.“Guess there little guys are helpful, huh?” they said bridging the man’s digit, allowing the insect to crawl onto theirs. Shino watched as his lover smiled at their new little friend, smiling himself.

Not all of their finds around for ‘scientific’ or ‘ninja’ purposes. His S/O has watched on more than one occasion as he collected just the stray bug, seemingly alone in the snow covered forest or along the wall of a building. At their quizzical look, he simply responded.

“It isn’t their season,”

This little saying a why to state, that they don’t have much longer in their cycle and the Aburame just wants to house them for the remainder of it. During the winter the man’s menagerie filled with species of all kind riding out the winter being comforted and cared for.

It isn’t all just bug collecting and insect saving. As a reward for helping him, or he is just too happy to refuse, his S/O has been known to convince him to go ice skating. The argument of, “We’ll bundle up, it won’t be too bad,” easing him into accepting.

Shino actually has adequate balance on skates and isn’t bad at skating. But he always allows them to lead him, a clever ploy to get his lover to hold his hands as they guide him along.

“You’re doing so much better, darling,” they said skating backwards, their hand clasped in his. “Soon you won’t need me.”“I’ll always need you,” he replied honestly, watching as they blushed into their scarf.

But even the promise of warm hands encircling his can keep him outside forever. Eventually the nin will get cold and want to go back inside to get warm. His books and mountains of blankets calling his name.

Much like a moth to a flame, if a kotatsu is set up, Shino will stay under it and not move very far. Given some hot tea, he is guaranteed to be trapped for hours. His S/O, having taken him from his book long enough, will stack them on to table along with a pot of tea.

Joining in on the warmth, they cuddle up close to their shinobi. His lover’s presence is one of the few things that can distract the man from reading or studying. So the books are more often than not forgotten as the two watch the snow fall.

The two always talk to each other in hushed tones, like a lover’s secret. His partner trying to talk him into more winter activities.

“How do you know if you won’t try?” they tease sweetly.“I’m positive snow angels don’t sound fun at all,” he answered smiling at their droopy eyes.“Ooooo~” they yawn, “Okaay~ you don’t know what you are missing~”‘

Between Shino and the heat from the kotatsu, they usually fall asleep, leaving the Aburame to his much anticipated reading.

The nin watched through dark lens as his love slept. Head lulled on to his shoulder, a soft snore escaping their lips. Easily, he turned to his book, wrapping arm around the, their head slipping on to his chest with a contented sigh.

He supposed he could learn to enjoy winter, if his lover stayed with him like this.

Kiba

Unlike his teammate, winter is the time of year that Kiba looks forward to. The snow, the holidays, snow forts, and hot pots…yes it was his season. As soon as the snow starts to stick, he and Akamaru are out the door to do play in it. And literally the very second, the man has more that once run out to embrace winter wearing nothing but his boxers.

Luckily, his S/O makes sure that everyone is properly covered before leaving the house.

“Why are you dressing him up?” Kiba asked, watching as his partner’s paws were wrapped up by his lover.“The cold could damage his hands and feet,” they spoke kissing the carefully gauzed-bound paw. Akamaru nuzzled their neck in return.“I got that, but why the scarf?”“Because we match,” his partner added a ‘duh!’ as he barked with pride.

Kiba’s S/O is the one to have them all dress in matching hats and scarves. He never thought he would be the guy to be in this kind of relationship, but their their love of winter as high as his, he couldn’t find it in his heart to take the silly tradition from them. Plus it made Akamaru happy, if the ninken’s strutting was any indication.

Speaking of the Ninken, his favorite winter past time was sledding. Something about the air whipping around his face. He had been going with Kiba since they had first been partnered up. As tradition, the large canine always sits in front, their sled perched on the steepest hill that Kiba can find. His sheer size and weight setting the speed and timing of when the three go shooting down the slope.

With his S/O sitting between and his partner, Kiba holds them close. Arms fastened around them protecting from any eminent wipe-out. With Akamaru pressed to their front, his lover is safe and warm until they eventually hit the snow bank at the bottom of the hill.

Kiba’s partner could do this a great many times without getting tired. The ninken more than capable of dragging the sled up and riding it back down the hill. The shinobi following him, each time smiling as the two fo the most important beings in his laugh squealed down the slope.

Being on the competitive side, the Inuzuka’s season is not complete without a snowball fight. As a child, he was known for how legendary his ‘Snow Brawls’ were. The little snowball fights turning into all out war on one of the training fields. It was a take no prisoners affair, casting most of his classmates and, if he was lucky, a sensei or two.

But now as an adult, getting his S/O to play was no small task. Every winter they shared together, saw them making him work for it. With each duck, nonchalant evasion and deflect, they thwarted his fun with a smile. This clever game could go on for a while, his S/O loving to give their boyfriend a hard time. But Kiba is nothing, if not persistent.

“Hello there,” his lover greeted as he wrapped himself around them. Sufficiently stalling the construction of Akamaru’s snow fort. the ninken giving his partner a sour look.“Hey,” he returned with a smile, “you’re so warm,” he cooed, sliding a cold hand under their coat and shirt slightly. The action granting him a shiver.“And you’re so cold.”“Not as cold as this,” laughter turned to a scream as the nin shoved a snowball under their shirt.“Dammit Kiba!” but he was long gone running away as he gained their attention. And a bevy of snowballs launched his way.

It is never a simply snow ball fight for Kiba. Oh no, if he is going to play, he will do it like he does everything else, like a ninja. So their simple fight begins to pick up speed as they run on roof tops, only stopping to launch their frozen ammunition at one another. Akamaru never far behind knocking down large sheets of snow on top of his friends.

As it does every year, the battle catches the attention of former classmates, teammates and friends. And like the unofficial welcoming of winter, everyone is found on a training field. Kunoichi, Shinobi, Ninken and Sensei all on the attack.

Between hailstorms of rotating snowballs launched by shadow clones, large boulder like balls falling from the sky, “mud walls” constructed from snow and strategies for victory being planned, all that could be heard was the laughing and merriment of full grown ninjas…acting like small children.

The night find soaked and freezing clothes, lined by the fire place drying. Not far a sleeping Akamaru wrapped in towels as the last of the snow melts from his fur.

The other survivors of this year’s “Snow Brawl” are underneath every blanket that could be found in the house. Kiba convincing them both to be naked because “you warm up faster that way.” His S/O in no condition to argue as they share slow kisses and laughter over the highlights of the day.

Yes, Winter was Kiba’s favorite time of the year.

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ao3bronte · 7 years ago

Text

Smutember: Exhibitionism

Masquerade on AO3

8: Exhibitionism

She spends most of the night wide awake, oscillating between being furious at herself for letting her emotions get the better of her and being furious as Chat for being right.

She’s an idiot.

She runs her hands down her face and groans at her ceiling, cursing her inability to sleep. Not that she doesn’t deserve the punishment but she’s got a trigonometry quiz tomorrow and she’s not looking forward to failing at yet another thing in her ridiculous life.

How could she have thought that this was a good idea? Friends with benefits? Really?

It wasn’t as if she could keep her feelings at bay anymore, especially with the way she’d responded yesterday. The press hadn’t seemed to pick up on the impromptu slap, the proximity of their bodies as well as the podium having hid it from the press. But the fact remains that she’d lost her proverbial marbles in that moment and the entire internet was blowing up with theories as to why Ladybug looked like she was going to commit arson with her eyeballs when Le Parisien’s reporter had asked Chat Noir about his love life.

She had three options.

One: Admit defeat and tell Chat Noir she was falling in love with him.

Two: Admit defeat and tell Chat Noir that they should stop sleeping with each other.

Three: Fuck him senseless and hope he forgets about it.

“Well that settles that,” she murmurs, rolling over onto her side.

Marinette putters through her trig test, if only barely, and proceeds to spend the rest of her morning mentally berating herself. It’s the same argument every time; on the one hand, she's more or less accepted that she's an awful human being for being possessive over a guy she's not even dating. On the other hand, she can't deny that she wants to make him hers.

She looks down at her desk and barely keeps herself from faceplanting against it.

Instead, Marinette cups her chin in her palm and tries to follow her teacher's lecture on marketing strategies but it's hard when the very source of her conflict sits three rows in front of her.

Adrien doesn't raise his hand to answer the question, which is fairly unusual considering his seemingly all-encompassing knowledge of the subject. He's slumped in his seat today, the epitome of couture; she's seen him pose similarly in the Agreste spread in last January's Vogue.

They're still friends of course, and she's able to talk to him as freely as any other boy nowadays. It's a far cry from the disaster she'd been in her troisième but thankfully, with two and a half years of being a public superhero now under her belt, she's plowed through most of her social anxieties. More than anything, it was Alya who had given her the courage to get over herself; you're never going to make it as a fashion designer, she'd said, if you can't even talk to any of the models.

Mind you, just because she could talk to him without having an aneurysm doesn't mean she likes him any less. In fact, between all the time they’d spent together being collective third wheels during lunch breaks with Alya and Nino, her feelings had only gotten stronger.

And yet...

She still didn’t have a chance with him. He's so focused on work and school and extracurriculars, not to mention he has a secret model girlfriend now. When he'd first mentioned her in February, Marinette had all but shut down completely. She'd ripped the posters of him from her walls, cried in the shower, and then, in an ironic twist of fate, she'd had to fight an akuma later that evening which of course led to drowning her sorrows with orgasms thanks to her own secret boyfriend friend with benefits.

Anyway, she still has a crush on him but she's no homewrecker. Adrien has never looked happier and Marinette can't help but be happy for him, even if it makes her kind of miserable. She may not be part of his happiness but she still loves him enough to support him, even if it hurts like hell.

So Chat Noir it is. If she can't have the boy of her dreams, she may as well have the next best thing. Her partner and confidant, her equal in all things and the only person on the planet she can speak frankly with when it comes to this Miraculous world of monsters and magic. Kind and wholesome and utterly cheesy in every sense of the world, she probably has a lot more in common with Chat than her and Adrien ever would.

And it's with that realisation that spurs her to run home the second the bell rings and throw all caution to the wind, changing her clothes, transforming, and texting him as soon as she's launched herself from her balcony.

Ladybug I want to talk to you.

She's covered two arrondissements by the time he responds.

CB When?

Ladybug Now, if you've got a minute.

CB Where are you?

Ladybug In the Latin Quartier. I can meet you somewhere else if that's easier.

CB La Tour Eiffel in ten?

Ladybug I'll be there.

She doesn’t hear so much as feels him land, the wrought iron lattice of la Tour Eiffel vibrating in response to his body weight. She shifts ever so slightly to acknowledge him as he sits down beside her, legs dangling over the drop off below.

“You wanted to talk?”

Marinette steels herself, “I want to apologise for being selfish. I shouldn't have put you in that situation yesterday.”

Chat nods, sensing that she isn't quite finished.

“I also wanted to tell you that I’m…I’m not…I want to keep doing this. Us.”

“Define ‘us’.”

Chat’s going in for the kill and Marinette honestly can’t blame him.

She swallows uncomfortably, “Friends. Partners. Maybe…something more.”

“Maybe?”

“For now,” she replies, swinging her feet back and forth, “I need time.”

“Okay…” he trails off, “So where does that leave us?”

“Exactly what we were before. Friends with benefits, except I’m going to try and be less of an idiot.”

He chuckles, “Could you repeat that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I’m an idiot and I’m sorry,” she snarks back, pulling one leg up over the landing so she could lean closer.

“One more time?”

“Don’t push your luck kitty,” she presses, mock punching him in the arm. He nearly closes the gap between them, their noses brushing against each other. He looks down at her lips and smiles softly, his eyes bright with mischief.

“You know, it’s still broad daylight. Anyone could see us,” he whispers, his breath ghosting against her lips, “We could give them quite a show.”

Marinette bites her lip and watches as Chat slinks closer, a grin slowly spreading across his features. Of all the kinks Chat could have…

“It’s risky,” she murmurs, shivering as his hands card through her hair and slip down her shoulders.

“It’ll be fun,” he sing-songs, his nails skimming his back and sides, “Come on…”

Marinette leans into his ministrations, throwing her head back as he grazes his teeth against her jugular, “I still say it’s too risky.”

“I dare you,” he hums into her skin, “And you never back down from a challenge.”

“Using my words against me,” she chides breathlessly, “You’re awful.”

“But I’m your awful, if you’ll have me.”

She recoils just enough to look into his eyes and see the honesty, the desperation there. He wants to be hers, he wants her to claim him, be owned in every sense of the word.

Fuck.

She grabs him by the back of the neck, smashing their lips together, and it’s everything Marinette has ever wanted. God, she’s so needy, so needy for control and she climbs over top of him, situating herself in his lap and yes, this is what she’s been waiting for. She grabs two fistfuls of his hair and tugs, pulling his head back so she can deepen the kiss, consuming everything he’s willing to give her and he moans and cups her ass with his hands, pushing her body flush.

She grinds her centre against him and it feels amazing, the friction between their suits just right. He can feel every ridge of her body against him and he takes advantage of the way her nipples harden against his chest, pinching them between his forefingers and thumbs. She keens softly and contorts her body so he has better access to her chest, cupping and tweaking and flicking until she’s moaning with every breath. He loves making her sound this way, desperate and heady with pleasure, and the noises alone are enough to bring him to his knees.

“Please,” she cries against his lips, her movements increasing in tempo against him. He scrapes his claws down her stomach before removing his hands altogether so he can use them as leverage to grind her against him even faster. The friction between their suits and her clit is enough to drive her to distraction, throbbing and aching and overwhelming. It’s astounding how fast he can get her off, how his hands and lips can bring her to orgasm faster than she can believe. She latches her lips against his neck and sucks to give her something else to focus on, desperate to ride this out a little longer.

Chat groans as she nibbles his skin and screws his eyes shut at the pleasure/pain devastating his senses, the smell of her arousal and the sound of her cries overwhelming him. He’s this close to coming for her—

Marinette takes his earlobe into her mouth and sucks, “Come for me.”

The way she says it likes she owns him, like she controls him, sends him flying. He comes hard, screaming her name into her hair as his vision blanks and his body shudders; it feels like he’s both floating and drowning, the sensation of her against him overpowering. It feels like she’s everywhere and no where as she grinds against him one last time, stuttering a list of curses a mile wide as she comes herself and he tries to watch but his vision shimmers, his senses overwrought with stimulus and pleasure every time.

She’s still trembling when he opens his eyes, her body on his chest pressed against him. He smiles at the sight and turns his head to glance through the lattice, spotting a hoard of tourists pooled around the base of the tower. He opens his mouth to say something but eventually decides against it, proud of putting those social marketing skills of his to good use.

Later that night, when #Ladynoir trends so hard it nearly breaks the internet, Marinette can barely find it within herself to be embarrassed.

Instead…she kind of feels proud.

#miraculust #miracusin #mlfic #mlnsfw #ml fanfic #smutember #smutember2017 #marinette cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug/chat #les adventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous ladybug #brontewrites

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

Text

[HR] Stay Away From the Blue Ridge Parkway

My girlfriend gifted me a drone for my birthday this past April. I’d wanted one for quite a while, but I coudln’t justify spending that much money on myself. I had one picked out that I wanted, but had no intention of dropping a few week’s pay on what ultimately amounts to a toy. The one she ended up getting me was even better than the one I’d had my eye on. I was ecstatic, but I also felt a little guilty knowing she’d spent that much money on me.

Like the drone I had picked out, this one could be piloted by using only my iPhone. Or, I could attach my phone to the included remote, which would allow the phone screen act as a live feed from the camera on the drone. Where she splurged, however, was by upgrading to the model that included a set of VR goggles. With these, you fly the drone from a first-person perspective. It’s like you’re sitting in the cockpit of the drone.

I spent that afternoon flying the drone around my neighborhood, mostly just circling the property around my house. Having never actually piloted a drone before I was afraid to fly off too far. With my luck, I’d crash it someplace where recovery would be next to impossible. Or, I’d go beyond the range of what the signal would allow and I’d lose by brand new present. I’d be unhappy, and my girlfriend would be furious.

Over the coming weeks, I got a little more confident and a little more courageous. I would fly to the outer limits of the drone’s capabilities. I could get as far as the middle school almost two miles away with no issues. Once I flew all the way to Freedom Park. I would hover at 100 feet or so, watching the dog walkers and bike riders as they made their way around the paved loop that weaved around and through the park. Some kids started punting a football, trying to knock my drone out of the air out of sheer meanness. I thought about doing a high-speed flyby to taunt them, but decided that losing my drone wasn’t worth the effort. So, I flew home.

By mid July I’d grown bored with my neighborhood flights. I live less than an hour from the Blue Ridge Parkway. There, I could easily find a more scenic route to pilot. A quick google search told me that drone flights are prohibited on the Parkway. But, the place I had in mind is rarely traveled. The likelihood that I’d encounter a park ranger was so slim that the legality of drones didn’t really matter.

The Tuckaseegee Balds are a series of large, open fields on the ridge line of a mountain between Blowing Rock, North Carolina and Grandfather Mountain. The hike to the balds isn’t hard, but it is long. I had planned for at least a four hour hike to get to the First Bald. The trails are rarely used, and the balds go mostly unvisited. Hikers generally flock to spots with easier hikes with better views, so it’s uncommon to meet anyone atop Tuckaseegee. I didn’t care about the views on the balds anyway, they just happened to be where I’d take off. I could fly to more popular destinations Rough Ridge or the Linn Cove Viaduct, but still be far enough away to avoid getting caught. I didn’t care if a park ranger saw my drone. I’d be a mile and a half away on top of a mountain all by myself.

I packed a few extra batteries to keep myself in the air as long as possible before heading off to the Parkway. After hiking most of the morning I made it to the top of the balds just after One. At the edge of the First Bald, about two hundred yards from off trail, was a large, uprooted tree that had fallen over. It was mostly covered in shade from the forest, but still in the open enough that I could take off without catching any of the overhanging tree limbs. I set up my drone in the clearing and sat down, using the fallen tree as a backrest. I slid my goggles on and took off.

I spent the next hour and a half flying around and videoing the scenic peaks that dot the Parkway. Well, those that were within my range, anyway. I could only fly for just under 30 minutes on each battery, so I had to make periodic trips back to swap them out before taking off again. After loading my fourth and final battery into the drone I decided that I should at least get some video of the balds themselves. Sure, there are better views throughout the Parkway, but that isn’t to say that the Tuckaseegee Balds aren’t beautiful themselves.

The balds essentially dot the ridge line, with a patch of forest separating each from the other. From a hiker’s perspective, they’re a series of large, open fields that seemingly pop up out of nowhere as you hike through the forest, and the trail passes through each one of them. For this reason, the balds have been numbered and named based on the order you pass through them. From East to West, there’s the First Bald, followed by the Second Bald, and so on, all the way through until the final, Seventh Bald. From a Drone’s perspective, the balds look like a giant skipped a large rock along a mountainous ridge line, skinning the earth each time it made contact in progressively smaller areas.

As I flew from my position against the tree in the First Bald I passed over the thicket of trees separating it from the Second Bald. The heads up display in my goggles told me I was flying at a little over 150 feet above the ground. Just as I passed over the tree line and entered into the Second Bald, my heart fluttered as I saw what I thought was a person walking along the trail heading in my direction. In my moment of panic, I removed my thumbs from the controls on the remote, causing the drone to stop and float in place. As I looked closer, it was apparent that I was not looking at a person. What I was looking at, exactly, I still do not know.

The creature had the legs of a deer or an elk but walked upright, bipedal, standing at least twelve feet tall. It’s upper torso and arms where somewhat humanlike, but not quite. They were, different. I honestly don't know how else to describe it. I could see its ribs. I don't mean that it was lean and that a rippled outline could be seen under the skin. I could literally see the bones of the rib cage, like the fur-covered skin that was supposed to conceal the that portion of skeleton had rotted or been torn away. The head, which was looking directly at my drone floating in the sky, also appeared to be that of a deer, only considerably larger. It, too, appeared to have portions of uncovered bone, as I could clearly see a large swath of skull revealed along most of the right side of its face. Tatters of skin and fur hung from the opening, like the animal, if that’s what it was, had been partially flayed. Giant antlers meandered from the base of its skull, twisting up and backwards from its head. The antlers were dark brown, and they pointed towards the ground while the creature’s head remained tilted upwards towards to sky to stare to where I was watching.

I don’t know where I got the courage to not immediately fly back to where I was seated, pack up, and run back to my car. Instead, I lowered my drone to get a closer look at whatever I had caught passing through the meadow. When the display on my goggles informed me I had descended to 50 feet, I again allowed the drone to hover in place. The creature took a step forward, unfolding what looked like wings from its back. The wings had no skin or membrane between the bones. Instead, it looked like a bird whose wings had been plucked of all of its feathers. They fluttered without every fully expanding, and then tucked back behind the creature again. Had they opened completely, I’m certain they would have been at least eighteen feet, tip to tip.

When the creature began to move again, it did so quickly. I don’t know whether to describe its movement as a jog or a gallop. I suppose that entirely depends on how many human qualities you choose to give to whatever the being was. But, I could tell that regardless of the speed the creature was moving then it could move much faster. And it was headed directly towards my drone.

I immediately picked up altitude, quickly climbing to 200 feet. The creature had dropped its gaze from the drone and was instead focused on the trail ahead. Its strides were long and deliberate as it chewed up the distance, traveling directly towards the First Bald. Directly towards me.

Fortunately, I had developed a decent bit of skill and confidence in flying the drone since the times when I was afraid to fly if off the property at my house. I turned the drone back towards where I was seated and pressed the thumb stick all the way forward. I passed over the tree line almost immediately, and then began to speed over the half mile of open expanse of the First Bald. I followed the rut of the hiking trail so I wouldn’t lose my bearings, knowing I was seated a few hundred yards just off of the trail. As I neared the end of the First Bald, I turned slightly to the right to fly directly to where I had taken off. I could see my body leaning against the fallen tree at the edge of the forest, and stopped when I had the drone positioned just overhead and began my descent. I positioned the camera to look forward as the drone dropped to land in front me. In my goggles, I could see the tree tops come into view as my drone descended to land. As the camera angle became level with my body I could see over my shoulder into the forest behind me. Twenty feet behind the fallen tree where I sat stood another, slightly smaller creature.

I ripped my googles off as I rushed to stand. My legs were cramped and nearly useless from being seated in the same position most of the day and I nearly fell. I grabbed a broken limb on the fallen tree to pull myself up, and turned just in time to see the monster charging towards me.

I’d love to tell you what happened next, but I have no recollection. Maybe it’s best that I don't recall. I struggle enough to cope with the portions of the story I do remember. What I can tell you is that a team of rescuers found me five days later after my girlfriend reported me missing. Luckily, I had told her where I had planned to go so the search party had a good idea of where to go looking for me. However, that isn't the search party who found me. I was found twelve miles South near the Linville Gorge by a group working to locate an injured hiker, which, naturally, they thought they had found when they came across me. From what I’ve been told, for hours the only response I would give to any questions was “Asgina.” When I did begin to talk, I had apparently explained that I hadn’t been lost at all, that I had been traveling with the Aniawi.

My drone has never been found, so neither has any of the footage of whatever it was I saw in the Tuckaseegee Balds. I wish it had. I suspect that perhaps then people would believe me rather than discounting my story as the result of some head injury. I know what I saw, and I know that I’ll never step foot on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

submitted by /u/AppalachianOctober [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2TMUv9C

#Blogger #Story

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fesahaawit · 7 years ago

Text

Side Hustle #70: Making Rings and Jewelry Out of Coins!

[Okay guys, I think I finally found the PERFECT side hustle for us money nerds ;) Making money from money itself! Haha… The full circle of financial life! And here to amaze us with all his artsy wizardry, is Michael Bonard – founder of Money-Rings.com who shows us the ins and outs today. If you enjoy this, consider supporting his Kickstarter page so he can continue growing his business!]

******

If you are like me, you like to work with your hands and have a big appreciation for craftsmanship. While I attended a great art college to pursue my dream of becoming an artist (I graduated from the Columbus College of Art and Design with a focus in painting), I eventually ended up at a dead-end job not using my skills at all.

I started missing showing my work in painting exhibitions, contributing to all the great group shows, and even taking on cool opportunities like creating a permanent blown glass installation for the Monte Carlo Casino in Las Vegas – which still houses it!

After years at the job, I eventually became frustrated enough to actively go searching for more creative ways to make money. I built magnet toys that floated in its packaging, created tasty chocolate lines with creative bar molds, and even tried my hand at custom blown glass clocks. I wasn’t giving up.

Then one day I attempted to make a ring out of a penny just to see if it would work.

It didn’t look pretty, but it definitely worked! And once I found out it wasn’t illegal*, I started planning my exit strategy and eventually quit my 9-5 within a year to focus exclusively on making rings and jewelry out of money. Which I’m proud to say I’m now doing full-time!

How Do You Make Rings Out of Coins?

Here are the abbreviated step to give you an idea.

What you need: space, tools, time and lots of patience. Oh – and the best part – spare change! Right from your very own pockets :) Look for the coins that are in the best condition to set aside for this.

Okay, here we go..

First, make a hole in the center of the coin.

A disc cutter and a mallet make it a lot easier than using a drill, but a good disc cutter can be expensive so use what you already have when first starting out.

Next, you need to heat or “anneal” the coin until it has a slight glow.

Propane or mapp gas torches are fairly inexpensive, and the easiest way to heat them quickly (be careful of burning yourself though!).

This process enables you to manipulate the metal while keeping its integrity. It’s at this point you’re able to change the shape of the metal.

Have you ever used aluminum foil? Well, it’s actually made from one solid ingot that’s run through a heated press over and over and over again until it’s stretched into one humongous roll. Pretty wild.

To stretch the coin into a ring, the least expensive way to do it (and how I started out myself) was with a ring mandrel and a rawhide or plastic mallet (harder mallets will mark the coin).

Strike the coin repeatedly and as evenly as possible. Once it stretches a couple sizes, reheat the coin and repeat until you get the desired size. Then, make sure to flip the coin around and hammer the walls in so the now top ridges are equal with the bottom.

At this point the cut part of the metal will still be rough, so you’ll then need to sand and bevel the edges so they’re smoother. Next, use a steel wool or Brillo pad to sand all the relief parts of the coin to bring out the shine and show off the lettering/designs of the coin.

You now have a ring you can wear, give away or sell!

And it’s at this point you determine how much more energy and money you want to pour into the trade, or if you’re okay just doing it as a fun hobby for family and friends. It takes a bit of work to produce a single coin, but there are ways of speeding up the process the more you practice and research, and of course the more you drop on fancier tools too ;)

You also get better results in the end:

(The coins on the left are from the process we just went over, and the one on the right is with my current process after years (and literally 1,000+ hours) of working on my craft)

How Much Can You Earn Making Jewelry Out of Coins?

Okay – Let’s break down the numbers. The popular state quarter ring sells anywhere from $20-$50+, depending on the quality of it and which person/retailer is selling it. The amount of profit you take away will depend on how productive and inventive you can be with the process, but you’re looking at anywhere from $20-$100+ an hour, less the cost of resources and tools.

I built my business for wholesale when I started, but knew that I needed 4 revenue streams and one of those streams was retail through fairs and festivals. It is something that is definitely a hustle and a ton of work setting up and tearing down, but a typical 2 day festival was/is equivalent to a month at my old job. And sometimes it just takes one day!

Though the retail costs usually go up with the denomination of the coin, especially if it is made of silver, I still let the market (you) ultimately dictate the final price. I’ve created over 100 designs made from coins, many of which never made it to market because they ended up not working out visually or financially. It can get tough turning a hobby into a business, but you really have to hustle hard if you want it to work.

Speaking of downsides…

The Cons to This Gig

This goes for any business owner, but the biggies were having to sacrifice my hobbies, my art and my nights and weekends to make this work full-time. Gary Vaynerchuk explains it well with his “stop binge watching house of cards” explanation

You can also seriously injure yourself! I’ve had may fair share of cuts and burns over the years, but on one special occasion I almost chopped off my thumb while making earring displays with my table saw. Luckily my “Studio Assistant” was sleeping in my studio the whole time while I drove to the hospital to get stitched up. I was unable to use my thumb for 2 weeks, and had to adapt fast to continue production for a festival the next week.

Other potential side effects:

If you end up developing methods similar to mine and do a lot of polishing, you can say goodbye to your hand modeling days…. Your nails are shot.

This doesn’t go for everybody, but I consistently created fine art for 12 years and making jewelry from coins is heavily frowned upon within the community. So be prepared to be shunned which can really suck big time.

And lastly, if you’re a coin collector (sorry J. Money!), it may be tough for you to punch a hole through such beautiful coins.

How You Can Get Started

Honestly, the best thing you can do is just that – get started! Try it out at home, and then follow it up with some good old fashion researching.

In fact, one night I remember working late in my studio and deciding to take a coffee break. When I jumped onto Youtube there was a trending video titled (if you can believe it) “How to Make a Ring out of a Quarter!” My stomach dropped! Partly because the process was very counter-productive, but also because I knew everyone would now want to start making quarter rings themselves to sell everywhere. I remember pulling two all-nighters that week to bump up my product designs to stay on top of my game.

So what I’m saying is that you don’t have to spend the countless hours of trial and error and coming up with new processes necessarily, because there’s a community out there you can already start learning from. I recommend trying out a number of processes as there are so many ways to get from point A to B in this industry. And maybe you will come up with an even better way!

In Summary

Though I never became the full-time artist I wanted to be, I have found a way to create things for a living and I’m having a blast expanding my jewelry line. I’ve put aside my other bodies of work to focus on Money-Rings exclusively, and I’m truly grateful for my current situation.

Give it a shot! You never know what can turn into a full-time hustle!

For those too impatient and want an even faster way of producing coin rings, you can use that numbered piece of plastic there in your pockets and visit www.money-rings.com :)

*****

*If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me about the legality of doing this! I get that question so many times at big festivals that I have auto-response answers, some of which are pretty funny… So if you ever see me at a festival, ask that question and see which one you get :) But yes, the real answer is that it is illegal to deface currency if your intent is to fraud the government. An example would be turning a $5 bill into a $50 bill or a nickel into a quarter and passing it off. Another example is shaving metal off of a coin to profit from the shavings, and then spending the shaved coin. Ever wonder why ridges exist on coins?

Michael Bonard has been crafting coins into unique jewelry for over four years. You can find his work at www.money-rings.com, as well as on Facebook and Instagram. Check out his Kickstarter page before it ends to support him and get some of his fantastic creations in return!

**For 69 other side hustle ideas, click here**

Side Hustle #70: Making Rings and Jewelry Out of Coins! posted first on http://ift.tt/2lnwIdQ

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heliosfinance · 7 years ago

Text

Side Hustle #70: Making Rings and Jewelry Out of Coins!

******

Then one day I attempted to make a ring out of a penny just to see if it would work.

How Do You Make Rings Out of Coins?

Here are the abbreviated step to give you an idea.

Okay, here we go..

First, make a hole in the center of the coin.

A disc cutter and a mallet make it a lot easier than using a drill, but a good disc cutter can be expensive so use what you already have when first starting out.

Next, you need to heat or “anneal” the coin until it has a slight glow.

Propane or mapp gas torches are fairly inexpensive, and the easiest way to heat them quickly (be careful of burning yourself though!).

This process enables you to manipulate the metal while keeping its integrity. It’s at this point you’re able to change the shape of the metal.

To stretch the coin into a ring, the least expensive way to do it (and how I started out myself) was with a ring mandrel and a rawhide or plastic mallet (harder mallets will mark the coin).

You now have a ring you can wear, give away or sell!

You also get better results in the end:

(The coins on the left are from the process we just went over, and the one on the right is with my current process after years (and literally 1,000+ hours) of working on my craft)

How Much Can You Earn Making Jewelry Out of Coins?

Speaking of downsides…

The Cons to This Gig

Other potential side effects:

If you end up developing methods similar to mine and do a lot of polishing, you can say goodbye to your hand modeling days…. Your nails are shot.

And lastly, if you’re a coin collector (sorry J. Money!), it may be tough for you to punch a hole through such beautiful coins.

How You Can Get Started

Honestly, the best thing you can do is just that – get started! Try it out at home, and then follow it up with some good old fashion researching.

In Summary

Give it a shot! You never know what can turn into a full-time hustle!

For those too impatient and want an even faster way of producing coin rings, you can use that numbered piece of plastic there in your pockets and visit www.money-rings.com :)

*****

**For 69 other side hustle ideas, click here**

Side Hustle #70: Making Rings and Jewelry Out of Coins! published first on http://ift.tt/2ljLF4B

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