What To Do If You Suddenly Find Yourself Homeless

What to do if you suddenly find yourself homeless

FOOD

Find your nearest food bank or mission, for food

grocery stores with free samples, bakeries + stores with day-old bread

different fast food outlets have cheaper food and will generally let you hang out for a while.

some dollar stores carry food like cans of beans or fruit

SHELTER

Sleeping at beaches during the day is a good way to avoid suspicion and harassment

sleep with your bag strapped to you, so someone can’t steal it

Some churches offer short term residence

Find your nearest homeless shelter

Look for places that are open to the public

A large dumpster near a wall can often be moved so that flipping up the lids creates an angled shelter to stay dry

HYGIENE

A membership to the YMCA is usually only 10$, which has a shower, and sometimes laundry machines and lockers.

Public libraries have bathrooms you can use

Dollar stores carry low-end soaps and deodorant etc.

Wet wipes are all purpose and a life saver

Local beaches, go for a quick swim

Some truck stops have showers you can pay for

Staying clean is the best way to prevent disease, and potentially get a job to get back on your feet

Pack 7 pairs of socks/undies, 2 outfits, and one hooded rain jacket

OTHER

first aid kit

sunscreen

a travel alarm clock or watch

mylar emergency blanket

a backpack is a must

downgrade your cellphone to a pay as you go with top-up cards

sleeping bag

travel kit of toothbrush, hair brush/comb, mirror

swiss army knife

can opener

Entanglement

Story by @hibatasblog all the way to chapter 12. one was done by the fabulous @crimsonkingart! With the others done by myself. I’m not a fan of my most recent addiction, but can’t wait to do others. I love this story so freakin much. All the creativity!! Ahh! It sends me!

A while ago we had a floor leak and it destroy from stuff before we could really notice. A lot of these being one of them. But makes these extra special to me.

archiveofourown.org

Entanglement - Chapter 12 - hibata - Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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hibatasblog

3 weeks ago

Commencing with the heavy breathing and foaming at the mouth.

amoransia.⋆☁︎:･꧂ preview

[anticipated 4/16] ❤︎‬❤︎

nebula gives rocket advice. pearl picks up where she left off.

“Look at you,” he repeats. His voice is riddled with too many emotions for her to identify, especially when she’s feeling like this: all untethered, only jerked back into her body by the scorching kiss of his touches. “Like a little frickin’ toy I can do whatever I want with.”

Her lips part, and she has to force herself not to pant. He hasn’t let go of her nipple — rubbing his thumb back and forth across the pink button, still pinched tight between the knuckles of his first two fingers. His voice drops even lower than before, a smoky-deep register that sends infrasonic vibrations up through her core. “You’re all for me, aren’t you, kitten?” He tugs sharply on her nipple, and her intended agreement gets lost in a wordless wail. “I don’t gotta share my little doll with anybody. There ain’t nobody you want the way you want me.” Another sharp tug, but she’s prepared this time. “N-nobody,” she stammers out, rising a little on her knees when he pulls. Her pussy clenches on nothing, agonizingly empty, and she can feel more wetness slip out of her and glaze her inner thighs. “That’s right. My little fuckdoll-wife.” Oh. A desperate little sound trips up her xylophone-ribs and she’s suddenly drenched, dripping everywhere down her thighs and calves. A feverish flush melts in her abdomen and floods everywhere: up into her breasts and cheeks, down to her knees. Her muscles turn buttery and weak and her clit pulses needily. Her scattered, floating thoughts suddenly seize and cling to his words, trying to make sense of them. Has he ever called her that before — his wife? Is it a common colloquialism in the vastness of space, outside of Herbert’s influence? Does it mean anything more than a throw-away little pet-name? She’s been the High Evolutionary’s bride and betrothed for over half of her life, but nothing could have prepared her for how it feels to be called Rocket’s wife.

from chapter twenty-nine. amoransia. ❤︎‬❤︎ ‬ cicatrix masterlist.⋆☁︎:･꧂ navigation | fiction masterlist

a story about scars. two survivors learn about themselves, each other, hope, and the universe. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs.

WARNINGS for this chapter: d/s dynamics, safeword discussion, blindfold, subspace, fellatio, come-eating, edging, overstim. praise. mild degradation (use of slut/whore, affectionate). dirty talk. brief mention of pussy-spanking, face-fucking. aftercare.

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

banners & rose dividers by @/saradika-graphics | pearl dividers by @/thecutestgrotto | moodboard by me!

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hibatasblog

10 months ago

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. That filthy fucking raccoon talks some seriously good game. I would die of happiness to be talked to this way.

an excerpt from Part Three Candied Apples. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑

thievery in the garden.❤︎❤︎ ⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall masterlist | main masterlist

finally finished drafting the third (and final) part of ⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ (a meetgroot), currently clocking in at 37 pages and 17,251 words of teasing, smut, and sentimental nonsense. is any of it good? who knows? but i should be done editing it and have it posted sometime next month (you can check the monthly forecast on july 1 and i should have a semi-concrete posting date by then). in the meantime, to whet your appetite...

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

An Excerpt From Part Three Candied Apples. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑

“All right, sweetheart,” he croons, his mouth still just a breath from your jaw, from the soft needy flesh of your throat. You feel yourself sway toward him, but he shifts at the same time you do: pulling back, keeping himself just a whisper out of your reach. “Go on. Tell me what you’ve been thinking about, so I know what you like when I put my hands all over you.”

“I — I think about a lot of different things,” you manage to choke out. Your eyes flicker: catching him in your periphery, then casting back out over the city and the sparkling of its lights. You can see your rooftop community garden from here, and the ropes of plasma orbs draped like glittering diamond necklaces over the rows of growing things. You concentrate on it. Your breath feels shallow and thin, lungs straining with the weight of your need. “Sometimes I — sometimes I think about you being rough with me.” Maybe you shouldn’t say that. Maybe you should ask for gentle, for light touches and sweet words, for something romantic and soft. You do like romantic and soft, sometimes. But right now you’re so desperate — for touch, for his touch — right now you’re so greedy and needy and wanting — that any softer fantasies turn instead into bruising hands and welts left by claws, and thrusts so hard that your teeth click together in your dreams.

Admitting it aloud, though? You’re not sure you’ve ever been so humiliated in your life. Your eyes flutter closed in a wince, and your thighs clench under your ruffled skirt.

“Oh, yeah?” The drawl of his voice is low and entertained. He tsks. “Just like I thought — gettin’ yourself into trouble here, and too shy to do anything about it. You’re gonna have to be more specifical than that, princess.”

You bite your lip and hazard a sideways glance at him. “What — how—”

“What’s it like when you think about me—” His voice drops, turning predatory. “—being all rough with you?”

“I — I don’t know.” Your breath feels even more tattered and frayed. “You seem — strong. I think you could maybe — throw me around if you wanted to?” God. You press your fingertips back into your cheeks, giving up the charade of pretending to being anything but mortified. “I guess — I’m not really sure how that would work since I’m so much bigger than you?”

He tilts his face in closer to you — a whisper of his fur against the back of your fingers. “Oh, I think I can figure it out.” Each word is bitten around a sharp-toothed smile. “So tell me more, shy girl. In these damp little daydreams of yours, do I got you on all fours?”

You hiccuping a gasp, knees suddenly wobbling at the image that flashes to the forefront of your mind. “Uhm, sometimes,” you whisper. “Other times, uhm — on my back? With, uhm, my knees folded up against my chest?”

He makes a sound in your ear — a sort of low, rumbling clicking noise. The edges of his fur vibrate against you. “Uh-huh. That sounds nice to me, angel. A real nice little thing you’re just aching to give me.”

You swallow.

“Anything else, when I take you rough?” It’s a purr, you realize — a true purr. You hadn’t known a purr could sound so dangerous. “You like getting your ass slapped, angel?” The endearment sounds like a taunt, now.

You lick your lips. “I — I’ve never tried it before, but…” You trail off, everything in you furling so tight you can’t get the words out.

“But you think about it,” he finishes with a grin — so smug, so self-satisfied and sharp that you can feel it cramping your abdomen. Your eyes are wide on him when you nod, before they swerve away — trying to retain some last scrap of self-preservation.

Still, you can hear him chuckle — can feel it, teasing against the skin that’s crying out for him.

“You open to us trying a little bit of that, then?” he rumbles against you, tilting his head and dipping his nose deeper into the space between your neck and your shoulder — like he wants to nuzzle in, but won’t. He’s taunting you — maybe taunting himself too — and he’s close enough that you can pick up on the scent of him: something like juniper, and something like blackberries. Leather — probably from his uniform — and something sharp and smoky. You breathe it in greedily — take it into your lungs like you’d plant a garden of it if you could.

“M’not interested in smacking your face around,” the Captain adds, “but I’d slap just about any other part of you if you let me.” He pulls back, and from the corner of your eye, you can see his tongue run over his teeth — like he’s imagining tasting the warmth of your skin after it’s been struck a few times. “I’d frickin’ love to see you bounce, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters out of your lungs in a shaky stumble that you try to crush back. Your fingers clutch rigidly at the edge of the wall. “I’d be okay with that,” you manage to squeak out, trying to reign in the thump of your heart on your breastbone.

His hand snaps out, black skin on black shadows, and he grips the line of your chin and turns your face abruptly toward him. It’s sudden, and maybe a little scary — your heart and belly both tumble inside you and you choke on a gasp — but it’s also the first time he’s really touched you beyond his knuckles teasing under your sundress-strap, and the featherlight bracelet of his fingers on your wrist. You immediately melt into his grasp. Everything inside you leans into him, until you dazedly think that he’s holding you up, just by his fingertips kissing your face. He startles at the way you sink into his demanding grasp — then lets another pitying smirk curl the corner of his mouth.

“Needy little Terran pet,” he muses, stroking his thumb just once, back and forth along your jaw. You struggle to hold back the little whimper wisping up over your ribs, and you think at first that you’re successful — but he must see your throat working, because he laughs again: softly, this time, but meanly.

“Gotta say though, angel, I’m not interested in what you’re okay with.”

For the first time, his voice drops from a quiet, mocking sort of laughter and into something closer to a growl. It sounds dangerous, but your body doesn’t seem to realize that — or maybe it doesn’t care. Your skin prickles deliciously: every muscle straining for him, every cell lighting up and begging.

“M’only interested in what’s gonna make you wet. And what’s gonna make you whine for more.”

Your mouth pools with saliva and you have to swallow. “W-what about you?” you whisper, and your voice is as shivery as new leaves in a manufactured Knowhere breeze, trembling on the play of shadow and soft glow, filtering over the rooftops and glimmering between the branches of Groot’s trees. “What did — what do you think about? What do you like?”

The threat in his voice drops away, but you’d be a fool to think for a moment that he isn’t still a predator in his own right. The smirk grows wider: unrepentant and leering.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he purrs. “I like to run my frickin’ mouth.”

wind·fall /ˈwin(d)ˌfôl/ noun. an apple or other fruit blown down from a tree or bush by the wind; an unexpected piece of good fortune.

semi-shy touch-deprived reader tries to avoid meeting knowhere’s intimidating captain. is profoundly unsuccessful.

based on a prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting: The apartment she moved to has a beautiful, well-tended garden. After a while she finds out that her neighbor is the one tending to the plants and she decides to help him out one day.

⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall masterlist | main masterlist new! flower dividers & banners by @/saradika-graphics

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hibatasblog

1 year ago

#rocketraccoon #peterquill #petraquill #Entanglement

birdie. (an evasive maneuvers expansion)

18+ only MDNI | f!reader x rocket | 8-12 chapters | word count: pending.

xandar is saved. the power stone rests safely in the hands of the nova corps, and our favorite heroes-for-hire get their records expunged before going their separate ways. unfortunately, one furry little motherfucker just can't seem to keep his claws out of trouble. in a rare gesture of good will, the nova corp give him a get-outta-jail-free card (not that he needs one):

all he has to do is escort a bratty little princess safely and discreetly to her new home, halfway across the universe.

should be a piece of cake. what's the difference between a bodyguard and a bounty-hunter, anyway?

CONTEXT/WARNINGS: mcu-based canon-divergent post-vol1. grief, angst, betrayal, and the agony of falling in love. slightly darker than my usual fare - true enemies-to-lovers (still a happy ending, though!). slower-burn than i had originally thought (though we do start off pretty steamy). bondage (duh), lots of dirty talk and dom/sub fixations, probably some gunplay and use of toys. almost entirely from rocket's perspective so far. reader has hair long enough to get in her eyes. more warnings to come.

silver stardust and silver bar dividers by @bernardsbendystrawsblack | black rose divider by @/firefly-graphics | heart-handcuff & ivy dividers by @/strangergraphics | silver glitter divider and support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics | moodboard by me!

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hibatasblog

1 year ago

Rocket: Just leave me to do my dark bidding on the internet!

Quill: What are you bidding on?

Rocket: I’m bidding on a table.

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hibatasblog

1 year ago

110K notes View Post

hibatasblog

6 months ago

Ya’ll… read this filthy perfect fucking fic. ⚡️⚡️⚡️🎆🎇🎆🎇 I give this a 5/5 ⭐️s and a spicy rating of 3.5/5 🌶️ s. Like if Masterpiece Theater did porn. 👏 👏 👏

᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶˖ the bounty ⌖˖✶｡⋆ part two of evasive maneuvers ✶ book two of kinktober 2024

a bird in the hand... WARNINGS: dom/sub vibes, restraints & bondage, continued dirty talk, use of a cloth gag, gunplay, electricity play, forced orgasms, overstim, fantasies of dubcon/noncon, dacryphilia, tech/sex toys, nipple & clit clamps, painplay, subspace, aftercare, biting/marking.

“Little birdie.” The words are soft — admiring. “Such a sweet thing for me.” The praise melts through you: a second wave of heat on the heels of the first one, though this is softer and more syrupy — silvery-sweet. When he coasts a light fingertip over the line of your cheek, you lean into his hand — nudging into the curve of his palm, grateful for the soothing warm balm of his approval. His hand lingers even as he lifts himself from your torso, fingers coasting along your jaw as he steps to one side and then moves down between your thighs. He holsters the modified electroshock baton into a loop at his hip, and gently pries your knees apart. The way you’re tied makes it impossible to resist him — not that you have much will to do so, anyway. “It’s one of the things I thought you’d promise me, when I was imagining catching you in Xandar — that you’d be so good for me. That you’d do whatever I frickin’ told you, with your big weepy doe-eyes.”

The baton crackles blue, casting him in a silvery halo — hovering just an inch over the soft curve of your belly. The metal wand doesn’t even touch your skin — just ghosts lightly through the air over your flesh — and the electricity still sings through you, contracting every muscle, sending your abdominals into wrenching, clenching spasms — sending your pussy into wet spasms, too. Your teeth grit into the fabric stuffed in your mouth, and when the baton lifts from your skin, you find yourself sucking on the cloth: whines crowding up your throat, tears cluttering up your lashes. Your hips roll toward him without your permission. Rocket just grins, of course. You can see the moon-white flash of his teeth through the blur of your lashes. He’s still got the baton grasped in one hand as he spreads your knees wider, skating the other palm through the slipperiness between your thighs. “Yeah, sweetheart, I knew you’d like a little shock or two. You’re such a sloppy mess down here. And look at that clit, all cute and twitchy.” His grip tilts, and the baton taps just below your belly button. Your body snaps into a bridge, every nerve careening wildly, pussy fluttering madly. Then the electricity leaves and you’re melting into the mattress, shuddering and shivering with waves of heat and cold. Your tits tremble with each breath, clamped nipples pulsing heat with every thud of your heartbeat. “Good girl,” he croons, and you watch with a wide wet stare as his baton dips lower, the rounded tip dropping just beyond your range of vision. “Eyes up here, buttercup,” he croons, and your gaze snaps to his burning stare.

read part two ✶ the bounty now ⌖˖✶｡⋆ evasive maneuvers | kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

gray support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics | silver sparkle divider by @/strangergraphics

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hibatasblog

1 year ago

Absolutely gorgeous. The emotions are running so high here. Your Rockets are so exquisite. You’re insanely talented, and I’m so honored that you’re drawing scenes from my story.

“You tried to access my processors? The chips in my brain?” He grabbed her face in his hands and his thumbs came up to the hollows of her eyes, the points of his claws so close to the stricken tsavorite pools that he so loved.

“You would have stayed- you did stay. I- I- did it for you. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to-”

“If you ever do somethin’ like that again, we are over. Over. You hear me?” he snarled.

“Yes, Rocket,” she nodded as her eyes ran over with tears. The wetness pooled under his thumbs, tracked trails through the blood on her face. “Never,” she promised him, “I’ll never do it again.”

“Good,” he snapped and crashed his mouth into hers. It was a rough kiss that hurt, and his teeth scraped at her lips, his tongue licked into her mouth. Petra went still and submissive under his hands and mouth, let him have complete control of the kiss. When Rocket finally pulled away enough to rest his forehead against hers, they were both panting for breath. “I- I- I can’t lose you, so please, don’t ever try and control me again.”

—— Chapter 11 by @hibatasblog

archiveofourown.org

Entanglement - Chapter 11 - hibata - Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

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