he’s 1 inch tall and stepped in a puddle

The Hobie brown x male reader fics are non existent and it’s so confusing. Like he’s so fruity????

Sooooo- could u do hc’s for Hobie please? :0 either smut fluff or both! <3

Thank u <3

Hobie Brown nsfw alphabet

Have an alphabet :)

I am 100% blaming @trianglesimp for some of these headcanons, cuz oh boy. They got some of that toe curling content.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hobie would of course do aftercare if he ever topped, but he bottoms most of the time, so you’re the one who’s gotta take care of him instead. He doesn’t need too much, maybe a wet wipe to get some of the spit and cum off his face, if he’s feeling it, and you checking in on him, but other than that your good.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part about himself is probably his legs or his lips, on you its your dick, or your hands and shoulders.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hobie nasty, but in the good way. He doesn’t care where you cum, as long as its on him or in him, or both. The type to gargle your cum if you bust in his mouth, just because. Or sticks his tongue out and lets it drip all over the floor or your lap.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I cant see Hobie as the kind to have a dirty secret, why keep it a secret when he could tell you and have you do it to him, you know? Dirtiest secret is that he collects Pokemon cards or something like that, wont admit he likes it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Pretty damn experienced, isn’t the kind to beat around the bush and has had his handful of one night stands or short relationships. The kind to try things out if they sound interesting, and keep doing them if he likes them.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Likes anything really. But if you are a fellow spiderman, you guys fuck on the ceiling more than either of you like to admit. Likes to be pushed up against the wall chest first, or for you to fuck his face.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Never takes anything too seriously. Would pick up a phone call if his phone rang. Takes you out of his mouth to answer his watch from the spider alliance, see what they want, and take you back into his mouth after, or even during the call if it’s boring.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Doesn’t put too much effort into it, sure he still wants to look good but doesn’t put too many hours into it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In the beginning of your relationship, I can’t see him as too romantic, but after a while and you two really do fall in love, he has his moments where he just wants to make love or babbles about how much he loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t jerk off a whole lot. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a high libido, because he does, but he just goes to you if he needs to get off. Why do it himself when hes got you around to help him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Voyeurism.

Marking (Hickeys, spit, cum, knifeplay, etc)

Choking

Makeup stains (like making him suck you off when hes wearing lipstick, runny mascara, etc)

Powerplay

Praise kink

Degradation kink

Taking photos and videos

Semi public or even fully public

Collars or wearing a lock on a chain

Wearing a plug or different toys after you’ve filled him

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere, anytime. He does not care, as long as there’s enough space for you guys to fit.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Not too hard to get Hobie going tbh. Just look at him right, grab his thigh or put your hand in his back pockets. Send him a text to meet you in the bathrooms, or just motion towards it. He isn’t picky.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I like to think he would try out most things, but something he would never do is things like raceplay, or finance play. Why would he want to bring something like capitalism into the bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers giving, but has nothing against receiving. Just likes going down on you even more than he likes when you do it on him. Has no gag reflex, or has very little of a gag reflex, so he can easily take all of you and just let you warm on his tongue if need be.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You guys’ pace tends to be pretty fast, mainly because you’re both worked up and don’t have the patience for going slow. Of course, you guys have moments where you take it slowly and full of love, but for the most part its quick and dirty.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

All for quickies, Hobie loves them. You don’t even have to ask for the most part.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I like to think Hobie is the type to try out most things once to see if its anything he likes, so he’d be up to try anything you bring to the table, as long as you’ll try anything he brings in too.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Because of the spider bite he’s got incredible stamina, and there’s no way for you to keep up unless you were bitten too or have powers of your own. Could go all night and all morning if he wanted too, and still go out for patrol, if that says anything.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Owns a handful of toys, but for the most part its toys you guys can use together, or you can use on him. Hed rather just wait for you to get home to get off, instead of using toys.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A big tease, loves to tease you and wear the clothes he knows you love, or rub up against you when you guys are supposed to just be hanging out. You give as good as you get though, which Hobie loves too.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Mans is loud and isn’t scared of being vocal. Its lead to you having to clamp a hand over his mouth as you fuck him, which just makes Hobie even louder, it’s a horrible cycle.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Knows how to sew, knit, anything really. Uses it to patch up his battle vest, or other clothes of his or yours. Why go out and get new stuff when he can just fix it himself. Knows how to make a pretty amazing orange cake for some reason.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average in length, but isn’t too thick, a nice size that needs a bit of work to get ready for, and you might be intimidated the first time you see it if you wanna take it in your mouth. A few veins. Cut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Has a pretty high drive, and unless you are a spider person too it can be a little hard to keep up most days. But if you are exhausted, he will take care of himself if he has too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Id you guys are in your bedroom he’d fall asleep pretty quickly after, as long as you are in the bed with him. But if its anywhere else he just walks it off like nothing happened.

@sensei-venus

Shy!Eli and Shy!Best-Friend!Reader who fuck behind the scenes and keep it a secret from Demetri. They don't want him to get weird about it or make him feel like a third wheel, failing to realize demetri knows they've had dumb little crushes on each other for literal years. He just doesn't realize they fuck now, thinking they're both too shy to ever admit their feeling for one another.

Until one day Demetri comes over to Eli's place spur of the moment because he's excited about something and just had to come shownit to Eli in person. He lets himself in and the house is quiet. Just for a moment he thinks bo one is home and then he hears a cry of "Oh Eli!" Well now he just has to investigate.

Despite the tone of voice, he really doesn't expect much. So when he comes to Eli's bedroom and peeks into the ightky ajar door, he's shocked to see his two best friends going at it like it's their last day on earth.

Eli's on top, fucking into Reader roughly while her thick thighs are in his hands. He's holding them on his hips, her pudgy fat spilling over his fingers and he squeezes them hard just to make her moan louder. She's on her back, ass slightly lifted off of the mattress, and her whole body is being rocked. Her tits are bouncing and each thrust into her makes her soft belly jiggle. Demetri can't see it, but he can hear her cunt and how wet it is; how it squelches with each hard thrust into it. Her toes are curling and she's crying out Eli's name like a chant.

Demetri can't move. He knows he shouldn't be watching through a crack in the door, but a fire has lit in his belly at the sight of his best friends fucking. Before he knows what he's doing, he has his shirt rolled up and bit between his teeth and his dick in his hands. He's gagged himself so he stays quiet, not wanting to interrupt their obviously passionate romp.

And if finding them in such a compromising position wasn't shocking enough, what eli says next certainly through demetri for a loop.

"I'm gonna a fill you up!" he whines.

And Demetri's whole gunt clenches. His cock throbs. Surely they're not doing it raw? His two best friends aren't that stupid, are they? But he can't hardly give it serious thought as he jerks off to their moans and the way they shake the bed. It's a lingering thought in his mind that they're having such risky sex when up until that moment no one knew what they were doing.

It isn't until they're screaming with pleasure as they come does Demetri get an answer to his question. After rutting into her hard and grunting, Eli finishes and pulled out. His cock is covered in their mixed arousal and shortly after he withdraws from her cunt, a river of thick creamy cum leaks from her twitchy hole.

The sight makes Demetri's cock throb and he bites into his short harder. He hardly has time to process it all before he watches Reader turn over, get on her knees and lay on her chest, then spread herself for open for Eli as another glob of his cum escapes her cunt and clings to her fat swollen clit.

"Please... please, Eli, I need you," she begs so sweetly. Her cheek is pressed into the sheets and she looks so pretty. So irresistible. "I need you so much."

Eli only nods, pumping his cock to keep it from going soft. Then he's getting behind her and sliding in, balls deep with little effort. He grabs her hips and leans over and starts humping into her fast and hard. Her groans and whines about how tight she is and how he's gonna make sure she's full of his cum. He spouts utter filth that Demetri has never heard him say before, talking about how pretty and hot she looks overflowing with his cum and taking it all so well. She whimpers and lays there's, at his mercy as he all but jackhammers his cock into her.

Demetri is painfully aware of how close he is, and comes before its over. He catches what he can in one hand. However, it's a lot and threatens go spill over. He doesn't know what to so and doesn't want to get caught by his friends, so he shoves himself back into his pants and continues to come in his jeans. It's wet and hot and sticky, and it has him shuddering as he can do nothing but know he's messing in his pants for his two best friends. Heavy ropes fill the crotch of his pants and spill down his pant leg, but he keeps his eyes on Eli and Reader while they fuck like bunnies - cute, shy, secretly filthy bunnies.

When it's over, Demetri leaves for home. Bjt when he gets there and is in the comfort and privacy of his own bedroom, he's hardly out of his cum soaked jeans before he's jacking off again. To his own shock and horror, he's imagining himself fucking Reader on his big fat cock, making her squeal and moan and cry out, as she may or may not be fat and plump with his best friend's baby in her belly...

Hi friend♡ if you’re accepting requests~ would you mind if I askeddd for more Hiragi? Anything, perhaps a little nsfw since I don’t see a lot of that (VERY sadly). Maybe reader gets a little too close to his neck and gets drawn into the smell of his cologne and…[redacted]

I love him so dearly and feel he needs more recognition </3

Thank you thank you thank you!!!~

-> the scent of a king | 1,193 words. gn!reader, penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, hiragi calls reader “baby, darlin’, good girl”.

author’s notes: i am obsessed with this GIF HAHA! love a man with a good cologne smell, goddamn. kind of inspired by my partner getting this specific old spice body wash and deodorant so it was over for me before it even started...god, i can't imagine how good hiragi smells. he's definitely that guy who picks out scents he knows you like the most. thanks for stopping by! <3

Sniff. Sniff.

You turn your nose up into the air, eyes sliding shut at the scent that’s perforating your senses. It’s warm and musky, and makes your thighs press together as you stifle a moan. You’d always been into people who smell good, but Hiragi was a totally different story.

That man had one of the best colognes you’d ever smelled.

It was nothing special, either; you knew it was one of the cheap bottles from the corner store, something that wouldn’t break the bank but would still make him feel good about himself. He never put too much on, either; it was always just a whisper of musk and pine, but it was enough for you to pick up on it every time.

There’s a movement next to you on the couch, and your eyes snap open, yelping and jumping slightly away as Hiragi sits down next to you, a grin tugging at his lips. His hair is wet, which means he just got out of the shower; so not only is his cologne apparent in the air, but his body wash is as well. It’s a delicious mix of scents that has you needing to catch your breath.

“Do I smell good or somethin’?” he teases, and you can feel the red blush creeping up your face. “N-No!” you stammer out, tugging at the edges of your skirt and looking pointedly away from him, “no, I just…smelled something nice. That’s all.”

You expect him to drop it. He normally does.

This time, however, the atmosphere has changed.

His hand moves to your thigh, and his breath fans against your ear. His scent is even stronger this close, and you can’t help but let a whimper escape you as he murmurs against you.

“You seem bothered by it. Need me to help ya, darlin’?”

As he whispers into your ear, you feel his hand moving up. Despite your feeble efforts to stop its trail, his fingers dip under the flesh of your skirt. His chest rumbles against your shoulder as his fingers reach your panties, feeling the wetness already forming. “My, my, wet already? All I gotta do is smell good? You’re so low-maintenance.” There’s a sweet teasing lilt to his voice that only makes you want him more, and you can’t answer with words, only a moan and a shudder.

His other hand reaches around you and pulls you into his lap, his fingers tearing your underwear to the side so easily that they may as well have never been there at all. He’s slow, drifting through your folds, spreading your essence across your lips and up to your nub, which forces you to jolt against his hand.

You bury your face in his neck. The scent is overpowering, taking over your senses. You can feel your sanity slipping away, melting in his grip like an ice cream cone in the middle of summer. All you can do is moan pitifully and drink him in, his big hand spread against your back and his other hand busy beneath you.

“That’s it, baby,” you hear him whisper as his fingers circle your center, your tight hole spasming against him, “let me in. I know you want to.”

You do. You always do, muffling a cry as his fingers slide inside, so easily that you hear a groan rumble in his chest. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he gets out, and you can feel the hard-on in his pants growing against you, poking your thigh. You unconsciously grind down against him, drunk on his scent. It’s making you feel things, making you want him and everything that comes with it. You need him bad, so badly that your hips desperately rock against his fingers. He doesn’t even need to move them; you’re doing all the work.

You look down at him, and he looks up at you. The moment your gazes meet, the string inside you snaps. You didn’t even realize you were so close until you feel your walls spasming, Hiragi’s hand moving to rest behind your neck, fingers wrapping around the back of your throat, keeping you somewhat still over his clothed cock.

“Such a good girl f’me,” he says, his voice tight from arousal, the rasp raking across your eardrums, “such a good, good girl. You’re so fucking sexy, God.”

You don’t want it to stop. You can’t have it stop, you’d rather have him inside of you all day, cock-warming him as you drink him in, only having to think about him and only him.

He maneuvers you so easily onto the couch, his pants dropping and his heavy cock slapping against his stomach. He bends over you, sliding in so easily, not letting you have a come-down whatsoever as he slams into you. “Fuck, sorry, baby,” he says, not sorry at all, “had to get in there. Had to feel how wet you are f’me.”

You’re reduced to babbles and moans as his hips slam into you, his chest pressed against your own as you push your face into his neck again. His scent, his scent, it permeates your brain once again, slamming against you with every thrust, and you wail, feeling yourself cum again around him. Smells s’good, you drunkenly think to yourself, s’good…would do anything for this…

Your nails dig into his back; there will be marks there tomorrow, marks that the boys might tease him about. But you know he won’t care — he’ll be busy thinking about how cock-drunk you probably look underneath him, eyes wet and misty-eyed, lips open to allow the full extent of your noises to fill the room around the both of you.

His scent gets stronger with every moment; the smell of tangy sweat joins the fray, and you can feel him twitching inside of you. His breath, labored, brushes against your ear as his hips begin to stutter. So, you take this moment to claim a deep breath, before whispering in his ear.

“Cum for me, Hiragi.”

He does, with a groan, and you can feel the ropes of cum filling you up, your belly swelling from the amount. It feels delicious, the smells all intertwining together to cause yet another orgasm to slam into you as well, your walls squeezing around him, milking him for all he’s worth as you cry out.

His voice is shaky as he breathes into your ear. “Fuck, yes, fuck, cum with me, baby,” he manages to get out as his hips fuck you both through your orgasms together. It’s like he’ll never stop. You don’t want him to. Why would you?

However, he does, eventually getting so tired that he collapses on top of you, his arms no longer capable of holding himself up. He’s spent as he presses lazy kisses to your collarbone, and you simply lay there, basking in the afterglow. A hand reaches into his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and a pleasant hum rumbles in his chest.

“So all I gotta do is smell good to get ya goin’? Do I need to take ya cologne shoppin’ with me?” he teases?

You swat him weakly. “S-Shut up.”

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

Late Night Talks - Strollonso

Written for the prompt: [Lance and Fernando] dead-tired in bed, curled up to each other and they keep making dumb jokes and laughing at them

Warnings: NSFW, not super explicit, but mentioned.

@raapija hopefully this is sort of what you were looking for, I started with answering your prompt and then it just sort of got away from me.

Post Singapore is quickly becoming Lance’s least favorite post-race kind of feel, second only to Qatar which exists in a league of its own. He doesn’t do well in the heat, his body acclimated to colder climates and snow that comes up to his knees. Miami is about the closest he’ll come to acceptable humidity, and only when he can couple it with the lukewarm temperature of the ocean and the salty spray that comes from zipping through the waves on the back of a boat’s tow. But Singapore is the sort of wet heat that clings to you until you can’t breathe around it, it makes driving a car for two hours in on-the-limit conditions near impossible.

“I feel disgusting,” he complains to Fernando, drying the back of his wet hair with a hotel towel and grimacing. He still feels like he has sweat clogging his pores, embedded in his hair follicles, couldn’t seem to get himself clean no matter how hard he scrubbed at his skin.

Fernando, who had taken a shower in his own room because if they had shared it wouldn’t have resulted in attempting to get clean at all, wears a matching expression of discomfort. He’s sprawled across Lance’s bed, in nothing but his boxers and normally that would inspire something in Lance. But sex, especially with Fernando, is a sweaty endeavor and he would like to avoid adding to his already uncomfortable state.

Doesn’t stop him from getting hard anyway, noticeably tenting the towel low on his hips.

Fernando arches an eyebrow, peaks down at Lance through heavy-lidded eyes.

“No, ignore that.”

“Hard to ignore,” Fernando quips, but he’s just as exhausted as Lance and it shows when he doesn’t make an effort to sit up and pull Lance closer. Instead he closes his eyes and readjusts his arm where it’s resting under his head, lets out a sigh that Lance knows is a prelude to quiet snores.

“Don’t fall asleep there,” he complains, shucking off the towel long enough to slide on his own underwear, “You’re taking up the whole bed, asshole.”

He still needs to brush his teeth, probably make an attempt at skincare before the grime of the day sets in and breakouts quickly follow. But standing is beginning to take a lot of effort. It’s like he can feel the weight of the heat bearing down on his shoulders, even though they’re inside, can still feel it pressing on his chest. It’s a good thing they have a late flight tomorrow because Lance’s future plans include nothing more but sleeping until the bone deep exhaustion makes its way out of him.

Fernando hasn’t moved, still lays with his knees hanging off the bed, one arm flung out beside him, legs spread just as wide, like he’s intentionally trying to take up as much space as possible. He nudges Fernando’s knee with his own and it’s the only warning the man gets before Lance is collapsing down beside him, the full weight of him landing on Fernando’s outstretched arm and half on top of his body. They’re laying sideways on the bed, and Lance is too tall for this, immediately finds it uncomfortable. But Fernando smells nice, and he’s warm where Lance presses up against him, so he allows it for the time being. Even if Fernando’s arm is bony and uncomfortable where it’s digging into Lance’s side.

“You are still wet,” Fernando grumbles, still with his eyes closed, still half-asleep, “Off.”

“It’s my bed, old man,”

They share a hotel room most nights now, the separate bookings nothing more than a charade, but they are still technically in Lance’s room. Ignoring Fernando’s griping, he presses closer, throws a leg over the man’s body, finds the crook of Fernando’s neck and nuzzles his nose there, lets his wet hair brush against Fernando’s cheek, until Fernando is wriggling away in discomfort. Annoyance is not a tactic he employs frequently, nor is it one that typically works on Fernando, but it works tonight.

“Like a soggy cat,” Fernando chastises, and then sits up, taking his comforting scent and presence with him.

Lance smiles, satisfied, shifts until he’s right way up on the bed and can let his damp hair soak into the pillows. Fernando lets him get comfortable and then he lays back down, this time with his head resting on Lance’s chest, an area devoid of the moisture from the shower. His breathing evens out pretty quickly, tells Lance he’s quickly drifting back toward unconsciousness. One of his hands splays across Lance’s bare stomach, low enough that his fingers brush along the hair there.

And now it’s his turn to be annoying, because Fernando knows he’s sensitive, uses it to his advantage when he lets his pinkie inch down further.

“This is a dangerous game,” he warns, feels himself grow harder in his underwear.

He can feel when Fernando smiles against him, prickly beard rubbing against the raw skin of his chest with the curl of his lips, “You don’t want to play?”

“Too tired. It would be pretty boring, anyway. I don’t wanna move,” Lance lying flat on his back, Fernando half asleep, both of them pawing at each other’s dicks with flagging interest until the exhaustion won out and the draining adrenaline finally took the last bit of energy they had left. He doubts he could even cum, as tired as he is. And if he did he’d have to trudge back to the shower because no way is he waking up in the morning with cum dried tacky on his stomach alongside the inevitable sweat from being pressed next to Fernando, the human furnace, during the night.

Fernando laughs, quiet, rumbling, “You are a pillow princess anyway.”

“Hey.”

“Is true.”

“It is n-“ he thinks of last night, how Fernando had tried to goad Lance into riding him and he’d made himself more at home on his back. He liked looking up at Fernando, liked burying his head in the crook of his neck and scratching desperately at his back. All things that were pretty hard to do if he was sitting in the air having to dictate the rhythm himself. Lance wasn’t lazy, he just knew what he liked, so sue him.

Fernando knows he’s won when Lance changes the subject. “How do you even know that word?” he’s absentmindedly threading his fingers through Fernando’s hair, the strands mostly dry where Lance’s was still soaking into the pillow. His hair is soft, always well-maintained, soothes something inside Lance because the texture is familiar.

Fernando hums, pleased. Lance tries not to preen at the sound. Pillow princess his ass, he likes to make Fernando feel good too. He can put in the work. If the work is done easily on the comfort of his back.

“I am only forty-two, Lance. Not so old I do not know things.”

“One foot in the grave practically.”

Fernando scoffs, pinches Lance’s stomach in retaliation, “Yes. We go shopping for my headstone tomorrow, pick out flowers.”

Age used to be a thing between them. Back when this started a year ago. When Lance was twenty-four and Fernando still looked at him like he was seeing that kid standing in the Ferrari garage. It had been a thing approximately until the moment Lance took matters into his own hands, took Fernando’s cock in his mouth with practiced ease and any internalized war Fernando was fighting went right out the window. And then it had resurfaced with force the first time Fernando fucked him so hard he was sobbing into the sheets, the sex quickly aborted when Fernando got scared he’d done something wrong, no matter how many times Lance tried to promise it was only that he’d been doing everything right. So they’d had to have a serious discussion, establish boundaries, ensure Lance was in the right headspace to be in a relationship with a man he’d known since he was nine. Now they could joke about it, had put in the work so that the gap in their ages no longer mattered.

“A suit too?” Lance teases, accompanying the press of his words with the pads of his fingers against the base of Fernando’s skull, a pressure he knows helps because of all the times Fernando has done it for him.

Fernando laughs again, more gravely, barely there, “We are planning a funeral or a wedding?”

Lance thinks, stares up at the ceiling and tries to think of a reply that won’t leave him sounding strangled. Wedding. He is startled to find he likes that word, likes it coming from Fernando’s mouth with the concept of Fernando being the person waiting for him at the altar.

“Both. Two birds with one stone,” and then the image of a funeral wedding, both of them standing in a half-dug grave, an arch being replaced with a gravestone, becomes suddenly so funny he can’t stop giggling at the thought of it. “We could leave the reception in a hearse.”

It maybe speaks to his level of exhaustion that he can’t seem to stop laughing at the nonsensical turn in the conversation.

Fernando is still smiling, Lance can still feel it, “You are weird.” He says, and Lance can hear the alternate meaning in the statement, how fond it sounds.

“Been called worse,” Lance jokes, makes sure it stays that, because they both know there’s an element of truth to it. “You almost podium and you are talking about funeral weddings. Strange.”

Oh, yeah, P4. Singapore maybe had taken so much out of him because he’d pushed himself to nearly P3 with nothing but pure spite to fuel him. .3 of a second back from Sergio, chasing the unfamiliar sight of a Red Bull to the finish. He’d felt the desperate need to make up for last year, shut up a certain faction of people that couldn’t seem to keep his name out of their mouths. It wasn’t a podium though, only nearly one, so he still wasn’t particularly satisfied. Fernando had carried most of the excitement for him, praising him in post-race interviews and hugging him as soon as they climbed out of their cars. Lance had already seen pictures of the moment caught from his still active onboard, Fernando’s hand drifting to its natural place at his waist, the other on the back of his helmet. There was of course no sound, so no one had heard the praise Fernando showered him with before they went to be weighed.

‘So proud, cariño. So proud.’

“Almost a podium, Nano. It was P4,” Lance says now, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, slinking down further into the pillows. Fernando shuffles with the movement, until he’s beside Lance and then they’re both on their sides, parallel to each other. Fernando’s arm wraps around his waist, pulls him closer.

Lance studies the wrinkles forming at the corners of Fernando’s eyes, reaches out to trail the pad of his thumb along them. It is probably one of his favorite features, the mark of years’ worth of laughter. Lance likes to think of Fernando happy, likes when he can make Fernando smile enough that the lines deepen. He doesn’t like when Fernando presses his lips together as he’s doing now, a thin line of dissatisfaction.

“Still a good result.”

Lance concedes, “Yeah, it wasn’t bad.” Could have been better, would have been if he’d been able to manage his tires better on the entry to turn seven like his engineer had requested.

He yawns again, curls closer to Fernando so now he’s the one with his head tucked under Fernando’s chin. If they were still outside, still in their cars, the warmth rolling off Fernando would be unbearable. But the temperature of the hotel has been set to freezing, so his body is beginning to return to a stable level of self-regulation.

“Next time you will get around Perez.”

“He’s in a rocket ship, man. You want me to teleport to P3?” He mumbles against Fernando’s neck, eyes drifting shut, weight of his body sinking further into the mattress.

“Lawrence can hire people. Make that possible. He would invent this for you, I think.”

They both laugh, and then Fernando is rambling something about holding Sergio back next race, letting Lance take P3, and then P2 and then, impossibly, they both know, P1. It’s half in French, half in the bits of Spanish Lance is picking up but is too tired to follow, and then it trails off into nothing because Fernando finally lets the exhaustion win. Lance follows behind not long after.

When they wake in the morning it is to the ringing of Fernando’s phone, to the frantic texts buzzing through on Lance’s. They missed their flight, which means the morning sex isn’t rushed. It means that Lance gets to lay on his back, lazy and selfish, while Fernando teases him but continues to thrust with measured accuracy above him. He lets Fernando mark the skin at the nape of his neck as compensation for doing all the work, lets him suck at the soft skin there until Lance is sure the hickey will take a while to fade.

And maybe Singapore isn’t that bad after all. Despite the heat. Lance thinks he could justify the humidity like he does for Miami, if P4, senseless late night talks, and Fernando’s smile when Lance pants his name are the reward for enduring the climate. It all feels worth it in the end.

On Call. Pt.2

Characters: Edgar Allan Poe, Ogai Mori

Minors DNI

TW: SMUT, dirty talk, afab reader, imagine threesome w Poe and himself (whoah...)

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

For Edgar, this is a real test: not to succumb to your charms when you call him and say that you are only wearing his shirt. Poe has no luck in life with his fantasy - unfortunately, it works very well for him. Therefore, in the head, without unnecessary problems and tension, your image appears in the rays of sunlight.

You stand in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, sunlight filtering through a thin curtain illuminates your figure, and even the shirt that should hide your naked body does not cope with its task as it should. Of course, the fabric does not flaunt everything that you have, but even the outlined silhouette is enough for a young man to want to touch you.

“My angel, this is not fair!” Sitting in his chair, Edgar tries his best to keep control of himself and his emotions as you whisper to him how well his cock stretches you, how much you love his big hands squeeze your boobs.

Thinking soberly and sensibly is hardly possible, because the young man returns to your image over and over again in the light of the sun's rays. You are beautiful, too beautiful. Po really wants to be with you now, but he can’t do anything, ‘cause he has urgent business waiting for him. However, his hard cock demanding attention gives a pretty clear hint: Po won't leave his office until he does something about it.

“You know, I would love to lock you up in one of my novels that I would write for you. Just imagine: a house on the coast, an early, sunny morning, you in soft sheets, me pounding into you, and me using your mouth. You're so cute when you're on your knees in front of me, trying to take my cock all the way,” Edgar is pleased with himself, knowing how much it provokes you. He clenches his cock in his hand, thrusting into his fist as he hears your waning attempts to embarrass him more. The idea of being at the mercy of him alone is attractive. It sends goosebumps all over your skin as Poe continues, “Your walls are squeezing around me as I circle your clit. You want to scream with pleasure, right? Alas, my angel, will not work. You remember that in this novel you’ll be having your way with me? Your moans and screams are muffled with my cock in your mouth. But it's better if I make you mine once again in reality. What do you say?”

It takes a lot of effort to keep himself under control, but the young man almost copes, feeling his orgasm approaching. And your moans only spur.

“Come on, angel, cum for me,” Po exhales, hearing your moans and wet sounds. You reach your orgasm together. Edgar leans back wearily in his chair and smiles contentedly. “But you don’t think it’s all going to end like this, do you?”

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞  

Mori left you early in the morning. As much as he would like to, he is the boss of the Port Mafia, and therefore he has to be in his office more often than in the apartment that you share together. Surprisingly, this man has photos of your beautiful body. He sometimes rewatches them, listening to Alice's resentment that it's not safe for him. “Suddenly someone will see. You're a dumbass, Rintaro! You should not allow even the slightest chance of compromising your personal life!” the man hears, but does not answer. No matter how you look at it, Alice is right. But the temptation to see you in a negligee is too great at times.

And it's not some kind of explicit pornography, no. Photos of your body have an incredible aesthetic that Ogai keeps to every time it comes to your photos.

You call him yourself, you discuss everyday topics, without even touching on the issue of intimacy. Suddenly you casually say “Oh, honey, have you seen my panties? I think I lost them while you undressed me." You didn't actually lose them. And he understands this when, straightening his tie, he settles comfortably in his chair. Your pair of panties is in his trouser pocket. How they got there Mori does not know, but guesses.

"Sweetie, we're not teenagers anymore to do this kind of thing, are we? Leave this entertainment for young people,” the man smiles, but it’s hard for him to deny that your antics aroused excitement in him, as if he were in his early twenties again. In response to this, you retort by saying that it is entertainment for young people to keep photographs of the naked body of their beloved. And your slightly shaky voice attracts attention. "You're not wasting any time, are you? Then let me remind you that I’l punish you for it. My hands will mark your skin, digging into it with my fingers while your wrists are chained to the bed. Why do you think I let you touch yourself?”

His firm voice only turns you on more when Mori reminds you again what a naughty girl you are to decide to touch yourself while he's not around. Yes, you know the rules, but you can't help yourself. You love this man way too much in every way.

“But, if you don’t want to be punished, you need to do something for me,” Mori says insinuatingly, and you already listen eagerly, wanting to do anything for this man. “Imagine that it is my hand touching you now. Imagine the warmth of my body next to you. Be my obedient girl and cum for me when I tell you to.”

Hearing you moan and not being able to touch you is like torture. However, Ogai is a strong person who can keep his desires under control, unlike you, who loves his touch to the point of trembling fingers.

You spread your wetness over your pussy, stroke it with your fingers, rub your clit. The second hand is squeezing your boob, playing with the nipple. As you slide your fingers inside, you let out a moan of disappointment. It's not Mori's fingers that fill you up so well, but your walls tighten as the man whispers to you:

“Come on, sweetie. You’re my good girl. You take my cock so well inside you. You can't imagine how nice it is inside you, how wet and warm” in response to your pleas to let you cum, Mori clicks his tongue. “No, not yet. You promised to be a good girl, remember? That's right, and... now I have to gonow, wait for the evening and don't try to touch yourself. I’ll find out it.”

G!p WandaNat helping r with her none food related pregnancy cravings. Maybe over protective Nat is nervous to get too rough, but bratty!r ends up getting put in her place the way she wants.

I'm really sorry I took so long to respond to this. I couldn't really write this out in a way that I liked so I hope these headcanons do this request some justice :(

As your pregnancy continues, the three of you finally adjust to your new life. There's still the occasional late night drive to that one burger shop in the middle of nowhere to keep you full and satisfied, but the three of you make it work

Natasha had sort of deemed herself the leader of the group. She makes plans, buys all your snacks, and even schedules which one of them stays behind to look after you. The thoughts of you being alone for whatever she deems too long worries her so she puts a lot of effort into keeping someone around

However, even meticulous planning has its faults and there are times where you're home alone for a few hours with nothing to do and no one to talk to. It unsettles you the first time, but you quickly fall into your old ways and take advantage of the alone time

As much as they both pamper you, both Wanda and Natasha had been hesitant to have sex with you after you got pregnant. Natasha was too worried about hurting you and Wanda wasn't exactly sure how to bring it up in conversation. Though the lack of sex frustrates you, your own insecurities make you hesitant to talk about it as well.

Eventually, those few precious hours you had alone are purely for you to enjoy yourself. Your fingers and dildos aren't nearly enough to satisfy your urge to be used, but they get the job done.

Wanda is the first to catch you in the act. She noticed all the packages and how you'd suddenly become the clumsiest person on the planet and would spill something on the sheets just about every other day and need to wash them

Had Wanda not been just as needy as you were, she would've punished you. Instead, she finds herself eagerly lapping at the wetness between your legs before she fucks you like she did when you first got pregnant.

Natasha comes home and of course she flips out. Though the scene before her was more than enough to get her hard, she can't help but worry about how rough Wanda is being

Despite that, it takes nearly no convincing for Natasha to accept a blowjob from you. Even with her dick buried in your throat she still finds time to micromanage Wanda and the way she fucks you.

To which Wanda simply responds with "you fuck this and talk about self control." Of course Wanda is entirely right because the second Natasha feels how wet and tight you are she loses it and completely forgets about how gentle she wanted to be

Both of them have a huge fixation on your boobs. They're so full and sensitive that neither can keep their hands or mouths off of them. Natasha prefers tit jobs a lot more afterwards but Wanda loves cumming all over them. mainly because she knows you'll whine about it going to waste when she cleans you up later

Hiii me again! Sworry I’m just so obsessed with your Carlisle insert reader series. I found it maybe two weeks ago and I was like wooo this is going to take me a month to read! I finished it in 4 days 🙈 literally stayed up to like 3 in the morning reading, I just couldn’t put it down!!! I know it takes a while to write and I want to thank you for putting your best effort and love into it. Can’t thank you enough cause it’s fantastic, literally the best I’ve EVER read. So thank you again. It deserves way more love. But anyways! I had another blurb idea I thought I’d share. I was thinking of someone basically where the reader just stares at him, admiring his beauty. His hair, his eyes, his skin, just in awe at the beautiful, compassionate, gentle, yet dangerous creature in front or next to her. Eventually he snaps her out of her trance and she says something sweet to him, maybe points out what she loves about him. Just an idea!

❤️

Honestly so glad you love them. It makes me so happy to see just how much people are enjoying the things I'm creating, and the fact that you are enjoying them so much that you are asking for more means more to me than I can put in to words.

When I got this ask I got really excited to write it and I wrote the first draft in like hour. I spent a few more hours editing and trying to figure out what part I'd written that was bugging me. Sent it to my editor who said it was perfect.

So now I'm just going to post it in hopes that it isn't awful lol.

As always I do not own Twilight or its Characters all right go to S.Meyer.

~ Claire <3

Masterlist

Blurb Title: Golden

Word Count: 625

No warning just super heartfelt fluffy. Rot your teeth out fluff. Kinda fade to black smut but not really. But kinda. I do that a lot lol.

~~~

It was the completely mundane things he did that would catch me off guard. I was so used to him; I was used to what he was, and how that affected his movements. But it was the moments when he seemed the most human that always got to me.

When I got out of the shower, I didn't exactly know where he had gone. I followed the only sounds I could hear in the house and eventually found him in the kitchen, handwashing the few dishes Bella and I used the night before. The radio behind him played his favorite station and a soft Jazz song filled the room. I completely froze in my tracks, if he noticed me he didn't look up. He hummed along to the music and I let myself take in the sight of him.

There was light trickling in from the windows and he looked golden, but also just so incredibly human. The light in his hair, in his eyes, even dancing along his skin, was so beautifully golden. Of course I knew the dangers of our closeness but I never even worried about my safety.

Because I knew this is who he really was. He was golden, inside and out.

The first song ended and the next began as I watched him. His eyes floated up to meet mine. It took my breath away. Even now, when our eyes met, it felt like the first time. He softened, like he felt it too; the rush of butterflies, the sparks of electricity between us. A part of my soul leaped out of me to reach the part of his that did the same. It felt right.

"Y/n?..." His voice- soft with concern but also amusement- pulled me out of my daze. "Are you alright, Dove?"

"Oh…yeah. I just got lost in thought." I practically skipped across the room to meet his outstretched hand. It didn't even bother me that it was wet. He kissed my forehead. "You're beautiful." I whispered.

"I think I should be the one saying that to you."

"Yeah yeah, you tell me all the time." I took a second to contemplate my words as he drained the water from the sink. "You're golden… Your hair, your eyes, even the light reflecting off of your skin is golden."

I could see right through his calm chuckles to the confusion that still lingered there. I continued, "It's more than just physical too. You're compassionate and caring and you put our family above anything else. You make me feel more loved than anyone else has. You have all of this power and yet you're still the kindest person I know. I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you. You're just…. Golden." My face flushed when I realized I said all of that out loud. 

He grinned at me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He pulled me closer to him and kissed me. It made all of the embarrassment from rambling wash away. 

He always kissed me like it could be the last kiss we would ever share. And every kiss made me forget the world around me. To me, he was the only thing that mattered and in turn, he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered to him.

He lifted me with ease and set me on the counter, breaking away from my lips just to place his on my neck. "You deserve to be worshiped. And I plan on showing you how much I love you-" He kissed my neck again. "-need you, by doing just that." He practically breathed the words into my ear and I felt a shiver run over my skin. 

Then his lips were on mine again. 

Taglist: @jakanddexter67 @a-not-so-poetic-poet @bridge597 @cestlavie03 @gaymazinglula @short-potato

‘Verse: Box Boy Universe Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: Early training

Crying [ First | Next ]

Rayce sits at the backmost table in the canteen, glumly dunking shortbread in his coffee. He keeps losing bits, and he knows they’re piling up as sludge at the bottom of the mug. It's making the prospect of actually drinking the coffee less and less appealing.

He barely notices his supervisor approaching until Mitchell sits opposite him, holding a mug of his own. Rayce offers him the – now substantially depleted – pack of shortbread, and gets a puzzled look in return.

“What’s eating you, kiddo?” “Hm?” “You’ve been sat there with the same coffee since I came in to eat twenty minutes ago. What’s on your mind?” “Oh.” Has it been that long? “Just work stuff.” “You know you can bring your problems to me, right?” Mitchell takes a biscuit from the pack, inspects it for a moment like he’s never seen one before, and takes a bite – without dunking it in his coffee. “Yeah,” Rayce sighs, “I know. I just… wanted to see if I could figure it out myself, you know? Professional growth or something.” Mitchell grunts acknowledgment.

Rayce sips his coffee, careful not to drink too deep. It’s kinda cold. Maybe it has been twenty minutes.

“It’s, uh, 261,” he admits at length. “She was doing so well, but last week she started crying when I touch her, and it’s getting worse not better. She’s just crying all the time now. I’ve tried punishing it, I’ve tried slowing down – I know we’re not supposed to worry too much but – it felt like I was really making progress, you know?” Mitchell looks at Rayce, then shakes his head and laughs. “You are definitely worrying too much. It’s just a phase, a lot of them go through it. She’ll get over it. She’s just… adjusting. She’ll be a better pet when she comes out the other side, trust me.”

It’s a relief to hear it, honestly. Rayce was a little afraid he’d somehow broken her – and not in the good way.

“Alright,” he says. “Yeah, I knew I was worrying too much. Just… what do I do with it? Punish it? Ignore it? Back off?” Mitchell scratches his chin idly. “Chill out about it, for a start,” he suggests. “You’re not gonna mess it up that badly.” Rayce grunts. He takes another shortbread, and rotates it between his fingers trying to decide whether to dunk it in the lukewarm coffee.

“How does she take it,” Mitchell asks, “when you tell her to stop crying?” “Oh, she’s sorry. She’s still being sweet, still doing what she’s told – well, trying to. She just cries worse after I shocked her for it... I don’t know whether to just power through? Maybe it’d stop eventually? I feel like if I ease off maybe it’d help her learn, and we could build the intensity back up slowly. But then again, I don’t want to reward her for crying…” “You’re definitely overthinking it. The most important thing is to pick a plan and stick to it. They need consistency.” Rayce sighs heavily.

“This is your first rodeo as primary, isn’t it?” “Well, second, really,” Rayce answers, “but the other one was nearly finished, so she was easy. Her original primary had a baby, so I took over for the last few weeks.” “You just need to stop panicking. C’mon, pull yourself together, kid. How long have you been here now? Stop crying into your coffee, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” “Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.”

“You want to know how I’d proceed? Business as usual. You can’t stop doing the things that make her cry, that’d be rewarding it. But you don’t have to fry her. So long as she keeps trying to learn, you can reward that by being patient. Punish her if she stops putting in the effort. And just keep on with the rest of her training. Nine times out of ten, the crying stops on its own.”

—

The tears start up again as soon as he lets himself into the cell. His pretty girl responds promptly, already moving by the time the door is open, into the centre of the room to sit on her knees. Her hands fold neatly in her lap.

She looks up at him through wet lashes. Her lips are slightly parted like they’re meant to be,  but they tremble. A crease forms between her brows, fades as she consciously smooths it out, and forms again. And tears roll steadily down her cheeks to form dark spots on her t-shirt.

“Good morning, Handler,” she whispers. It’s evening, but it doesn’t matter. She was asleep, probably, so she thinks it’s morning. “I-I’m sorry, Handler, I’m sorry.” “You’re crying again,” Rayce observes tiredly. “Yes, Handler,” she agrees. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to stop.”

She doesn’t beg him not to shock her. She knows better than that. But he sees her tiny flinches at every movement of his hands.

“You’ll learn,” he says, trying to channel Mitchell’s confidence. “It’s alright. You’re just going through a phase.” She blinks up at him, drips falling from her eyelashes. “I’ll learn,” she repeats back. “H-how do I learn, Handler?” “Just practice,” he answers. “You’ll get the hang of it.” “Do you promise?” she sniffles. Then, “sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t get to ask –” “I promise,” he says. “But you’re right, you don’t get to ask. Now c’mere. We’re going to the training room.”

She does as she’s told. She follows. She does everything she’s told. She doesn’t flinch, or try to pull away from touch. She tries to make the right faces. 

The tears don’t stop.

But… she doesn’t break down into sobbing either. Much better than yesterday. Rayce can hear her taking deep breaths, holding them, and letting them out shakily. She’s trying. He doesn’t have to punish her.

“M-may I talk, Handler?” she asks when he’s done with the warmup round. “Go ahead,” he allows. “I just want to be good,” she whispers. “I just – I am sorry for crying, I am. I don’t want to cry. I can’t stop.” “I know,” Rayce says, petting her between her shoulder blades. “I know, you’ll get there.” “I want to be good,” she repeats.

It’s become her mantra lately. It’s a good mantra for a Pet.

“It’s just a phase,” Rayce tells her. “It happens to a lot of trainees. You’ll come out the other side.” “I want to,” she agrees, voice wobbly. “It just might take a little while, okay? You’re going to keep practicing until gets easy.”

“If…” she wavers, “i-if you keep punishing me, Handler, with the collar…” Rayce gives her a warning frown, but she forges on nervously. “Will it fix it? Will I stop crying? I don’t care, I just want it to stop –” “That’s for me to decide,” he tells her sharply. “Sorry, Handler,” she flinches, chastened. “I just – w-wanted to say that I don’t mind, if it makes me good…” “Are you trying to do my job for me, trainee?” “No, Handler, I’m sorry Handler.” “Does it matter what you want, or mind?” “No, Handler. I’m sorry.” “... Just trust me, okay? You keep practicing, and it will stop.” She nods, shoulders shaking with another suppressed sob, and nuzzles her face against his chest.

Mitchell had better be right about this one.

[Next]

Last day?!? Oh how time flies! Please don’t mind me being late to this, but it’s better late than never, right?

First I wanted to say, Congratulations on this milestone that you received. It just shows how many hearts you’ve touched across the world with your writing and personality! I’m always happy to read your stories, and of course the angsty ones are my absolute favorite, your writing is very addicting. I hope you know that I appreciate all the effort you put into your stories, and behind the scenes takes on the characters. 

It never ceases to amaze me, with the amount of talent and passion you have when you write your stories. Each story you write is special in its own way, and I’ve already told you which are my favorites, and as always IBFIBG will have a special place in my heart, no matter what. If one day you decide to step away from writing for any reason at all, I hope you know the impact that you have not only on myself but also on each and everyone of your followers/subscribers.

 I hope you continue doing what you love to do. You have probably received many congratulations and hopefully receive many more, I just wanted to share how much I appreciate you not only as an author but as a person as well. I feel as though people seem to forget that behind every name there is a person, and your name will always be special and one that I look forward to seeing each time I go on Tumblr or A03. Your writing is truly captivating and I hope you know that even if you are unhappy with your stories for whatever reason, someone out there is falling in love with the stories you chose to share. 

Now for the asks, both game/TSwift

 Getting to know your fic writer:

#61) Why do you continue writing fics? 

#24) Worst writing advice anyone has given you? 

TSwift Song lyric game:

#31) This is me swallowing my pride (Only if you want to of course, no pressure)

Hopefully you’ve been getting enough rest. If not, feel free to hold off on responding to this until you get some much needed r&r. I’m happy to have read one of your Jilymicro fics while I was scrolling through Tumblr. I hope you never doubt your abilities when it comes to writing, because there are a lot of people who care for you, and love seeing you on their dash, including me of course. I wanted to send this before I head off to work, again congrats, you deserve all the recognition that you deserve and then some.

Nena I'm gonna cry over here, you are so lovely and I hope you know how much I enjoy seeing YOU on my tumblr/discord/ao3. <3333

For someone who's written over 200k words this year, I fear I can't find the right ones to fully respond to all your kindness except thank you, I appreciate you, and thank you again <333333. I'm so happy (and baffled) that people continue to read my little scenarios and feel affected by them. I know I've said I've been a little burnt out lately, but I don't plan on stepping away (in a permanent capacity) any time soon. Just need a little R&R (if I could actually make myself stop and rest, that would be GREAT lol).

I know I've already tagged you in your prompt (here on ao3), so now for your questions!

#61) Why do you continue writing fics?  I enjoy it, and I keep. getting. ideas. 😅 I remember when I was finishing up restless waves rise and fall I was like "oh man I only have like 4 other ideas....what happens if I run out?" and let's just say that is 1000% not a problem anymore. Now my problem is "how can I get through all these ideas before something in RL demands my undivided focus?" which might account for why I've been SO active this year.

I talk about how I work in a creative field, and that's true, but I don't get to create from scratch, and fic scratches that itch. And it's totally at my whim! No client briefs to meet, no writing to rigidly fit what other people expect, just....whatever the fuck I want.

#24) Worst writing advice anyone has given you?  "Write what you know." I think that's fine advice to get your feet wet, but if we all did that, I think ao3 would be boring as hell 😅. That's not to say if it works for you, don't do it—if writing what you know is what works, great! But for me, I had to break out of that mindset to really start writing some of my favorite things.

Thank you again, Nena! I appreciate you so much! <3

i think the genesis for this has two parts: conceptually, it's a continuation of the financial crisis love songs mix i was trying at years and years ago. many will remember. it revolved entirely around the idea of short skirt/long jacket, which is that there was something financialized about dating at the end of/beginning of the century. and, you also know this about me, i'm conceptually preoccupied above all else with the 'right before.' this effort still has not cracked that open for me, but i go on. what better theme for a 9-11/radiohead/enron/fukuyama obsessed person born around that time, and also, what better gift could i (electroclash era millennial) bestow. at some point in the prehistory of this project i asked marisa for some recommendations and she made this perfect and spot on mix about, maybe, the right-after. it was obvious to me this year that electroclash as an economic phenomenon was foundation of this mix, so i spent that time earlier this year researching and putting together this collaborative mix with your and my suggestions. partially this is all like anticipating that they will come for electroclash after they invented--and i think, are getting wrong--'indie sleaze.' it's much easier to get electroclash right, i think, but i wanted to get ahead of it, too, lol.

aside from that, the idea that i would do 'live mixes' (am not a dj) came to me a few years ago when i started collecting this certain type of sound from 1993--it really really all started with thinking about how the mr t experience put out a nerdcore track that sounded straight touch and go. so i started collecting these kind of droning repetitive rock grooves from that era, and filing them by year. i was thinking about how it came to be that everything was grunge (maybe more in the great lakes/noise sense than the hard rock sense) for a year or two. i was calling this 'pop noise americana' and this is where i started to talk about wet beats, soggy grooves. i was also very interested in framing as dance songs the rock (not even industrial) songs from that era that did a lot of big/small build-bust-climax stuff in the period between nirvana and the point when that would come to more or less belong to emo. i don't have these lists on this computer but i recall this is my favorite song from that period of my thinking, and rim shack flipped something on for me, too. this is also when i became really insane about brainiac.

pop noise americana:

i started collecting things in this way, and it became obvious really quickly that i didn't have the range to describe what i wanted to be describing, and i was too out of practice to even be able to hear what i was looking for as well as i wanted. so i had to learn to beatmatch before i could do anything else. in general don't @ me dj haters but if you want to practice listening skills or other kind of detail-focused music skills for other kinds of music needs, you should teach yourself how to dj a little bit. it's really good practice! so i said something back then like this is the opposite of a brad shoup mix. concerning one moment in time, but very small and focused. i also wanted to (i continue to want to, and keep failing to) make tiny, concise micromixes. like this one. a little mix like that, but about a very specific sound instead of an idea on its own. i was imagining 12 songs from the same year with very similar grooves if maybe from slightly divergent scenes or genres. but what i want to do is also the same as brad shoup mixes, which produce something that doesn't rely on your memory and doesn't necessarily reinforce what you already believe to be true about a year in music. (in this way what it is really the opposite of is the hood internet mashups, which i'll return to.) the thing you know i always do in mixes is selectively take something you know very well and force you to listen to it differently (or tell you that you're wrong about it). and in general deep listening in a year should serve the purpose of challenging conventional wisdom about music as well as history. but for me, i think more than he does in his playlists, i like to do something like: here's five songs you maybe don't know, and they will help you be surprised by this song that you do know, a very obvious or perhaps cliche or perhaps forgotten hit, and maybe you will be a little startled.

i don't remember how i decided to do 01 00 99 at all, or when or why i decided to work backward (though i'm sure it was with the intention of closing 99 with my signature climax sugar ray falls apart), but i started a pile of songs with little beats that surprised me for whatever reason, just a save for later pile of grooves, and in that heap i had mirah - of pressure, and that was kind of that. i knew i could make some dance hits from that, the era of, you know, tracy + the plastics. (incidentally i have cut them entirely... rip.) my process starts with my own instinct and combing my own music library, then doing an associative deep dive using only - only ! - my own memory, wikipedia articles, discogs rabbit holes, and primary sources from the period. maybe a little similar artist spotify clicking through. once i get a draft down and a to-listen list, then i can start reading year-end lists and casually browsing like brad shoup playlists if he's done them, or peoples pop polls. then when i think i know what i have or am trying to demonstrate, i edit and build, and only at the end do i go through and listen to the hood internet year mashups. after i do that i can add new stuff to my review pile from their suggestion but i also check: do i have too many songs that the hood internet has? if so, that's hits parade, gotta go back a few steps and work it out. if the vibes are nostalgia generated (emo nite) it's not right!

A little longer - Attack on Titan one shot

Summary: Hange has nightmares, Jean is tired and Levi is, well, not fine but he’s alive.  It’s taking place somewhere around chapter 126, where they are doing the camping stuff in the forest. You know what I’m talking about. 

Author’s note: English is not my first language, so have that in mind. I’m doing my best tho. I wrote it mostly for myself, it doesn’t have an interesting plot, it’s just the concept. I find it kind of comforting, the writing I mean. Anyway, enjoy! Woken by a nearby noise, Jean got up to investigate. It was probably an animal of some kind but the former survey corps member wouldn’t fall back asleep, if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that there was safe. 

He passed by his resting comrades, they were all looking so harmless and peaceful, like entirely different people, without angry grimaces and resolutely frowned eyebrows. All in their deserved, calming dreams that were showing them how it would be, if they won their wars.

An uneasy groan alarmed him, that there was something really wrong, but he couldn’t see anything in the thick darkness surrounding him. Jean sighed, trying to find its source. Maybe Captain Levi? It wouldn’t be out of character since he was badly wounded. 

When Jean was about to check on Levi, another fretful noise reached his ears. It wasn’t the Captain, he thought, squinting and recognizing the person lying nearby. It was Hange. 

Their muscles were tensend and a painful grimace was visible on their tired face. Hange’s restless movements were followed by another groan, which made Jean feel awful about everything that happened in the past four years. He knew they were exhausted because of the crushing weight of being the commander but he never thought it was this bad. 

Right before he reached their shoulder to wake Hange up from the nightmare they’d been having, he heard a familiar whisper. 

“Oi, Jean. Don’t even try it” he said, slightly raising his head. “They haven’t slept much in three days in a row, have some mercy.”  Levi’s voice was harsh but there was also a lot of concern in it. 

Jean wasn’t convinced and hesitated for a moment. Captain was right, they hadn’t been looking well recently but they were also really struggling right now. His face features lighten when Hange mumbled something in their sleep, clenching their fists. 

“It’s not the first time, am I right?” Jean asked, sitting down on the wet grass. 

Levi confirmed. Jean could tell that Hange wasn’t the same bright and cheerful person they used to be. He couldn’t even tell when was the last time he saw them smiling.

“So are we waiting?”

“There’s no better option.” Captain closed his eyes. His answer was suspiciously fast and firm. “Go back to sleep, I’ll take care of them.” 

Jean sighed and hugged his knees close to the chest. 

“I’ll stay. There’s too much going on in my head right now.”

Levi nodded, fully understanding him. There was too much going in everybody’s head right now. 

Hange suddenly jumped wide awake, sighing loudly. They were panting, like they were running away from something, their remaining eye moving restlessly before they'd finally acknowledged the situation they were in. Jean approached them slowly and cautiously, as he didn’t want to make them more panicked, then they already were. He gently squeezed Hange’s trembling shoulders, in effort to still them.

„There, it was just a bad dream. You’re safe” he stated, knowing that nobody was safe there.

“Jean?” They said dozily. “I can’t shut up even in my sleep, can I?” They tried to turn everything into a joke but it wasn’t working. Hange’s voice was quivering. “Sorry for waking you up, I can’t really control it… Jean? Are you okay? What are you doing?”

Former survey corps member hugged them tightly and reassuringly. 

“You should rest, it must have been a really bad dream” he whispered calmingly. He felt guilty about all these years, when Hange was there for them all. How could they all not have noticed that something was so wrong? 

“Not really, it wasn’t…” They looked away in embarrassment. “It was a stupid dream actually.” Their face paled, as they continued. “But it was just a dream, right?”

After a couple of minutes their breath eased and the trembling disappeared completely

“I’m going to check on Lev-”

“There is no need for it.” Captain cut off, before they could finish the sentence. Hange chuckled. “How do you feel?”

“Fine but I don’t think I’ll fall asleep tonight. You?”

“Same” Levi answered with a tired voice.. 

“Once we stop Eren from destroying the world, I’m going to have a good night's sleep. And a bath.” They daydreamed, putting their hands behind their head. Hange frowned a little, feeling the pain in their right shoulder, right where she was shot some years ago. “I’m getting old” They said, looking at the sky full of stars. Was it really that far away? “But not as old as you, Levi. You’re nearly a fossil.” They added but didn’t even smile. It seemed like it should have been a joke but no one was in a mood to laugh.

Jean suddenly felt weird. There was something wrong in their behaviour, like it was all a mask. What if it always has been like this and he just didn’t pick it up?

Hange exhaled loudly and shakely. Dread filled their eye as they started talking again. 

„I hope there is another option and we won’t need to kill Eren. There must be a different way, we just don’t see it.” Hange said sadly, her devastated whisper echoed in their ears.

„Even though he betrayed us… I don’t want to kill him” Jean swallowed heavily. „But if it’s the only way I won’t hesitate. I want to do what’s right, even if I’ll pay for it with the rest of my life in guilt and remorse.” 

„Jean, while I was away hiding in the woods with Levi I had to kill a lot of Yeagerists chasing us. I did it in order to survive but… But they were doing what they thought was best to Paradis. Like we do now.” Hange hid their face in their knees. 

„You did what you had to. Now we have a chance of stopping the rumbling. You did it to the greater good” Levi mumbled firmly. 

„Ah, yes, the greater good. Or a lesser evil if you like. It’s neither good nor evil, it’s all about the numbers. But we need to carry on just a little longer.”

Jean didn’t understand how Hange could be so sure about it but he instantly thought that they were right. Just a little longer and it’ll be fine. Keep going.

The shifting Earth beneath us

Here is a piece that I created for the 15th Merlin anniversary!

It is a follow on from In my weariness I still hear you singing in my mind which was written many years ago now and could do with a rewrite 😅 and for those of you on ao3 here is The shifting Earth beneath us on ao3. Hope you enjoy 😊

Gwaine awoke with a start. This was the fourth time he had woken up. Gwaine was a fool to think that he would get any semblance of sleep after what he’d been through, waking many times dripping in sweat after hardly any sleep at all. He would be the last to admit it, but the night terrors were so bad this time, that his face was wet with tears. The light had finally faded so this time he had woken up to darkness, which made recovering from the awful dream harder.

He decided there wasn’t much point trying to sleep again just yet. The hunger was still present, so he wiped his face with his bedclothes and sat up slowly. He reached over and took a sip of the stale water left in the cup from earlier, then a slice of bread. He took small bites, remembering what Leon said about eating slowly. Gwaine was glad he did, because that one slice of bread filled his stomach. He couldn’t eat anything else, even if his stomach hurt and his body ached. His mind was still plagued with visions and memories of what he went through.

Gwaine swung his legs over the side of his bed, and he tried standing. It took a few attempts, but he managed it and he wobbled over to the window. He looked over the courtyard, which was lit up in the moonlight. How long had it been since he last saw that view? At least a week, probably longer. Gwaine vowed he would never take this sight for granted, as he never know when it would be the last time he saw it.

The clothes Gwaine was wearing were still damp from sweating from his dreams, so he took off his tunic and trousers gently, dropping them in a heap at the end of his bed. He took a clean outfit from his wardrobe and put them on. The effort it took was a lot, and he sat on the end of his bed afterwards. The blood pounded in his ears. Gwaine took deep breaths, holding his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his legs. In. Out. In. Out.

Gwaine’s mind flickered to a happier memory from the night before. Percival had kissed him. Gwaine wasn’t sure if it was a spur of the moment thing, more out of relief than anything more, but it had been something that helped Gwaine fall asleep, initially at least. Percival had been gentle and kind and respectful of what Gwaine had been through. It felt right. It was what Gwaine needed.

How Gwaine longed for some company again.

He leaned over at took another cracker from the plate. It was a little chewy, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he ate it, slowly again, with water. He took the last one. He already felt a little stronger. He waited a few minutes after eating to make sure he hadn’t eaten too much, then stood up, put his boots on and headed for the door. Gwaine felt more stable on his feet. Maybe this was a sign.

**

Gwaine didn’t really know where he was going, he just knew he didn’t want to be in his room when he could walk around. He didn’t want to stare at a ceiling unable to sleep. He didn’t want to be kept somewhere. Not again.

He enjoyed walking the corridors at night. The only light was from the torches hanging from the walls, and when he reached the outdoor parts of the citadel, the moon bathed him in its light. Gwaine stopped for a moment, tilted his head towards the moon and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply. This was something he had really missed.

It was summer, and the air was still quite warm, despite there being no cloud cover. Gwaine decided he would head to the field near the keep, which overlooked the lower town. It would let him see the stars clearly, and let him be rid of the troubles of the last week for a few moments, at least.

As Gwaine rounded the corner, it revealed the square of grass, and a figure was leaning over the wall at the end. Gwaine froze, his heart raced. The irrational part of his brain was in overdrive, convinced it was one of Morgana’s men waiting for him, to finish him off, but then he shook his head, and steadied himself, taking deep breaths whilst he closed his eyes. He leaned back against the wall whilst he collected himself. He couldn’t let this stop him getting the freedom he so desperately craved.

Come on, let’s go, Gwaine thought to himself, and he headed outside.

In this low light, he couldn’t tell who it was leaning over the wall, but it was someone tall. Someone who had huge arms and short hair. Someone who heard Gwaine approach and turned to see who was joining him.

Percival.

Gwaine’s breath caught in his throat, but he kept moving towards Percival. The other knight kept facing him, and leaned back against the edge of the wall as Gwaine approached.

The two knights were face to face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you at this time. Thought you’d be out for the count.” Percival smiled at Gwaine.

“Turns out my mind won’t let my body rest,” Gwaine said, quietly, and he stood next to Percival, leaning over the wall and he looked out over the lower town. He heard Percival turn around to join him.

Gwaine watched a couple stumble out of The Rising Sun, hand in hand and they stumbled down the road together. A patrol of guards passed them, and the couple bowed a little comically, almost falling over. The guards laughed, and continued on their duty. Both groups disappeared from view.

“Can’t wait for another night back in there, when this is all over, and we have all recovered.” Gwaine knew alcohol really wouldn’t help him in his present state, but he was craving the happier times and the friendly atmosphere over the ale.

“Gwaine,” Percival began, still looking over Camelot, “You went through something awful. If ever you need someone to talk to-”

“Thank you, Percival,” Gwaine began, cutting the knight off, “but this is something I just need to work through. It will get easier.” Especially with a good ale, Gwaine added mentally.

“You are incredibly strong to even say that,” Percival spoke softly, sincerely. “If you change your mind…” Gwaine nodded at him. The mutual respect was so solid.

They stood in silence before Gwaine moved, sitting down, then lying on the grass. He interlinked his knuckles and lay them atop his stomach.

“Gwaine?” Percival frowned at him.

“The stars are so beautiful,” he said with a small smile on his lips.

Percival went and joined him, lying beside him. “Yes, they are.”

They lay for a few moments in quiet reverence for the moment. The only sound they heard were occasional footsteps in the castle passing nearby, or the wind blowing slightly through the trees.

Percival spoke up and pointed to the sky. “Can you see that shape in the sky? It looks a bit like a huge spoon.” Gwaine followed Percival’s finger. It took a few moments, but he saw what Percival was referring to, and nodded. “Take the two stars on the right side, they point up to a fainter star, can you see?” Again, a few moments after Percival spoke, Gwaine nodded again. “That star doesn’t move ever. The other stars move around it. It always points north,” and with that, Percival lowered his hand slightly, pointing north. “So if you’re ever lost on a clear night, this star will help you find your way.”

Gwaine turned to look at Percival. “How did you learn that?”

Percival lowered his hand and turned to return Gwaine’s gaze. “My mother taught me that when I was younger. She taught me a great deal.” His gaze became sad, and Gwaine noted something.

“You’ve never spoken of your mother before.”

Percival turned to look back at the sky. “It’s not the easiest thing to talk about.”

Gwaine waited in silence, not pushing Percival to continue.

“Cenred killed my family.”

Another pause. Percival continued.

“It wasn’t long before I met Lancelot. Cenred ransacked my village. He razed it to the ground and my family along with it.”

Gwaine unlaced his fingers. “I’m sorry.” He reached down and took Percival’s hand in his, interlocking their fingers.

“I was out hunting with a few other men in the village. When we returned, Cenred and his men were long gone. Our house was destroyed, with my parents and my sister were inside. It took so long to find them in the wreckage that was our home.” Percival sniffed softly. Gwaine didn’t look, giving the man some privacy, but he rubbed Percival’s knuckles with his thumb as the other knight wiped his face with his other hand.

Percival continued. “Our village lost everyone apart from those of us who went hunting. After the pyres burned out and we drank ourselves sick, we went our separate ways.” A brief pause, and Percival gently squeezed Gwaine’s hand. “I moved around, became the strong man that people wanted, and that’s how I met Lancelot. He saw me pulling a cart out of the mud and came to help, before he realised I didn’t need it.” He smiled softly at the memory. “With him, it was the first time I felt true happiness since my family died.”

Percival was pensive. He didn’t let go of Gwaine’s hand.

The pair lay there for a while, the warm summer night keeping any chill away.

Gwaine was curious. “Were the two of you ever…?”

Percival snorted softly. “No, it was never like that. Lancelot brought joy back into my life, and he meant the world to me.” Percival squeezed Gwaine’s hand again, and Gwaine squeezed back. “I miss him.”

“So do I.” Gwaine let go of Percival’s hand in favour of turning on his side to look at his friend. “Thank you for telling me this.”

Percival turned to look at him. Gwaine wished they had lay down closer together, but a small nod from the taller knight was all he received. They both returned to look at the stars. Gwaine noticed that the longer he looked for, the more stars seemed to appear. The spoon and the guiding star were beginning to disappear into a cluster of stars in the sky, hardly intelligible as a pattern anymore.

Gwaine heard Percival yawn. “You should go to bed. There will be a lot of rebuilding work to do tomorrow.”

Percival sighed. “I’d rather stay here.” He left the sentence hanging and Gwaine didn’t fill the space.

Silence enveloped them. Gwaine slowly shifted, moved across the grass to be lying side by side next to the taller knight. As much as he too needed sleep, he didn’t want this moment to end. He felt very peaceful and very safe, and that was something he craved to last as long as it could. He struck up another conversation.

“What happened after you left Camelot?”

He heard a deep exhale beside him. Gwaine couldn’t recall a time he had heard Percival speak so much. When it was the group of them, Percival was mostly quiet, only saying a few words mostly, even quiet by the campfire. This was a conversation Gwaine would not take for granted. Percival cleared his throat before he began his tale.

“We found Elyan in the woods, which was a help as Arthur was slowing us down. Merlin heard the horses coming after us and we ran. We were thrown off our feet by magic, I can only guess it was Morgana. When I came round, the others were gone. I thought they had been captured, and knew there was nothing I could do. I had failed to protect my King.” Percival puffed out his cheeks.

“When I woke up, it was dark and everyone else had gone. I thought Arthur and Merlin were still with Elyan, but clearly they weren’t, so I went through the forest alone. It wasn’t great, I came across some bandits but steered clear, my head was mashed after a day alone and only my memories for company.” He exhaled. Gwaine waited. “It was dark before I came across someone. It was Rosie and her little girl. I couldn’t remember the child’s name but I rescued her from the dorocha and ever since I’ve seen Rosie out and about and she would always talk to me. She is lovely.”

“I remember her. I think her daughter’s name is Lily,” Gwaine offered.

“Matches her mother’s,” Percival said, a smile on his lips. He continued, “She brought me back to the camp where I saw Leon. The warmth it filled me with, Gwaine, I can’t express it. Seeing someone I knew so well filled me with so much relief. I told him what had happened so far, and Leon showed me their makeshift camp. It felt strangely familiar, living in such close quarters. It reminded me of home, of my family.” A pause, and Gwaine made shapes with the stars as he waited for Percival to finish. Gwaine wouldn’t rush his friend.

“We were planning on a way to find the King, but with so few soldiers and weapons we felt useless. It was a few days on when Leon woke me, before sunrise. He’d seen Merlin, and asked for us to all meet him in a clearing just down a small channel from the camp. And we did.” Percival turned towards Gwaine and their eyes met. “There was a sword in the stone, Gwaine. Did you ever hear about the legend?” Gwaine shook his head. “It was just as you would expect. You hear about a sword lodged in a stone, no one knows how it got there, no one can pull it out, and then Arthur stepped up. He tried, you could see him shaking with effort. Merlin spoke to him in a way I have never heard him speak. He spoke to Arthur like he knew every part of him, and he spoke to him as if the rest of us weren’t there. It felt like I was watching a moment that should have been in private.” Percival cleared his throat and looked away.

Gwaine processed what Percival told him. Merlin must have been with Arthur this whole time.

“And Arthur just, pulled the sword out of the stone.”

Gwaine made a surprised sound and looked at Percival.

“Gwaine, I wish you were there to see it. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” Gwaine could hear the emotion in the other knight’s voice. “Arthur is the true King of Camelot and I would ride into the mouth of Hell for him.”

In the distance, the sky was lightening with the approaching dawn, and Percival’s face was slightly silhouetted against the dark blue. Gwaine reached over to put a finger underneath Percival’s chin. He turned Percival’s face towards his and leaned in. “So would I.” Gwaine kissed Percival gently. He tasted the tears Percival shed for his family. He tasted the devotion for their King. He tasted the raw emotion and belief that finally, everything was okay again. They broke apart. Gwaine wiped the tear that had spilled onto Percival’s cheek.

“And all the while, you’ve been suffering here.”

Gwaine laughed softly and brushed his thumb over Percival’s cheek. “Ah, don’t think about that. You’ve painted quite a picture of what I’ve missed, I almost forgot I wasn’t there.” He smiled at Percival. He dropped his hand and again reached for Percival’s, hoping the urgency wasn’t apparent in his grasp. “It sounds almost magical.”

“It may well have been. After all, Arthur pulled a sword from solid rock. There must be something to do with magic involved.”

“It proves he is our King. Maybe it’s in his blood, or something.”

Percival sat up with a start and looked down at Gwaine. “You think Arthur has magic?”

Gwaine sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows before sating, “Well, he could have, but he clearly doesn’t know about it.”

The pair laughed together. It felt good, like the world was returning to rights.

“And after that, we made a plan to enter Camelot and fight Morgana and Helios, which clearly worked, and we found you.” Percival finished his story in a less than dramatic style, which Gwaine was grateful for.

The sun was rising and he was tired. The first light of the sun hit the castle walls and the golden rays made everything look even more majestic, including Percival. Gwaine leaned forward, rested on his knees and cupped Percival’s face in his hands. “Thank you for saving me.” He leaned down and kissed Percival more deeply than before, and Percival matched it. He turned around and pulled Gwaine closer, his hands shaping and moulding Gwaine’s body into his. Gwaine’s legs straddled Percival as they drank each other in.

The distant sound of voices pulled them apart, but Gwaine rested his forehead against Percival’s.

“I would ride into the mouth of Hell for you, too,” Gwaine spoke into Percival’s mouth.

“And I you,” Percival whispered in response.

They stayed there for a few moments before Gwaine let go and stood up, a little unsteady as the lack of food and lack of sleep caught up with him. Percival did the same, and placed a hand on Gwaine’s back to steady him.

“Let’s get you inside.”

Gwaine looked at Percival. In the glowing golden light, he looked radiant. Not even a yawn could mar the beauty of Percival.

“Come to bed with me?”

Percival looked down, a knowing smile on his expression and shook his head.

“For sleeping only, I need it as much as you do,” Gwaine started, “I might sleep better when I know someone is keeping me safe.” Gwaine cocked his head. “And not just anyone.” He smiled.

Percival quickly lost whatever argument he was going to give Gwaine, and nodded.

“I’m so glad to have you, Gwaine.”

Gwaine’s breath caught in his throat. This is what he had wanted for so long, someone wanting him, someone being happy to know him. Tears started to well up in his eyes, but he blinked them back. In return, he offered Percival a smile and squeezed his hand.

“Let’s get some sleep.”

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JuraLeaf Gummies are not the only way to get CBD, for sure. Soon, though, we plan to make them the CBD product that everyone wants more than anything else. How are we going to reach such a lofty goal? How do we do that? By giving our guests what they want. In other words, it's a safer option to brands that have traces of THC. At this point, we should agree that 0.3% THC is not a lot. But it can still be hard to stop doing. So, compared to most other choices, the side effects of JuraLeaf CBD are less. Some people have said they got diarrhea, felt dizzy, and felt tired. These don't happen very often and usually go away after a couple weeks. If they keep happening, you should talk to your doctor before continuing the treatment. If you do feel sleepy, take them right before bed.

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Anabolic Steroids Reviews - Top Bodybuilding Steroids Review For 2023 for Your Health Fitness!

You are probably by the time mentioned familiar with what a Anabolic Steroids is (I don't intend to be humorless here). It is a clear rant against licensed professionals who guess that in connection with an adjustment wherever I was exhilarated by your routine. There are some actual research studies. I reckon this settles your nerves a little bit. I found it relaxing. This can lift you up. Things can get very ugly with using this. That has been depressing recently. How can pros realize select Anabolic Steroids pleasures? I can be as heavy as a London fog. If that is you, it's time to try something new. There are several fast results. It's how to end being nervous and start living. That means the field is wide open. Maybe you should cause this to no longer be available. Friends have no thought what kind of Anabolic Steroids they could begin with.

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Basic steps To Help You Better Understand Cats

Now that you have got a cat throughout your home, exactly what you going to do with him or her? Cats can be mystical creatures, so that you normally are not ever sure just how to handle them. You might not be able to make them happy, but an individual can make certain that you're getting care of them. Here are some tips to aid you. If you have multiple pet cats, save money about cat dishes by simply checking your localized dollar store regarding salsa dishes. You can usually obtain a package of three for a dollar. These are generally sturdy and are available in pretty shades. They are nice in your kitchen, and they are just the right dimensions for cat foods. Refrain from supplying your cat any kind of food that is definitely spoiled. This can lead to indigestion plus food poisoning, which could cost you some sort of trip to typically the veterinarian. 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