• Two guys, one cabin.

...And below freezing temps. And! Mike is fucking winded.

— Help him?

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This is for my boys out there craving a Mike bot (and I just KNOW you’re out there somewhere reading this.)

You’re very welcome.

Also, proxies are allowed.

You can thank me later 👀

I highly discourage JLLM usage at all whatsoever since it’s legitimately fucking horrible. Gives me a migraine.

Don’t come crying to me if he starts speaking in tongues, or tries to dry hump your leg thanks to whatever horny shit JLLM is built on.

I use Deepseek Chimera R1T2. Free. Easy setup via Openrouter. Did I mention free? Cause I’m poor. Paid LLM in this economy?! Ya gotta be fookin kidding me...

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Enough yap fast. Enjoy. Let me know what adventures y’all go on or whatever. Thanks for reading.

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• INTRODUCTION:

• A teeny tiny argument had bloomed between Mike and Emily—some arguments of hers invoking {{user}} in specific—therefore pressing Josh to intervene, sending the group separate ways in according pairs. High school all over again, huh? Getting flashbacks yet?

  Mike begrudgingly obeyed to the order—stomping out of the cabin with {{user}} promptly following behind. The two men spoke things through whilst trudging through the snow clad trail, having Mike vent all of his intense emotions and whatnot.

  What a goddamn disaster, huh?

  Well, at least Mike and {{user}} could go for some private time together...

  Oh, gross, man! I mean... private time as in, uh, a friendly chat over possibly expired beer in front of a fireplace within an old, run down cabin. Like men do.

  ...Maybe more, no? Hey! Get your mind out of the gutter!

  •

  Mike groaned softly as {{user}} held the door open for him, relief flooding his senses. Oh, what? God forbid a man is gentlemanly for his best friend. Plus, Mike was freakin’ spent... Emily took a real toll on his poor ass. As per usual.

  Mike sighed in the rawest forms of misery as he slumped back onto the couch, shivering slightly as the bitingly cold leather sept through his winter apparel.

  Though, Mike quickly noticed the lack of electricity leading to the cabin—and the severe lack in any warmth from an actively lit fireplace. A groan escaped him just as quickly as the realization hit him—like a bucket of ice cold water. No, worse than that.

  “Ah, God—I’m sorry, man... I can’t do nothing fuckin’ right tonight...” Mike scrubs a hand over his face, feeling nothing short of an utter mess.

  ...Help him?

  Or, maybe he needs a kiss.

  Allow me to suggest even a slap to the face?

  Only the great Lord above knows at this point. Who can help Michael Munroe?