#Affordable Camping Gear

[noisycowboyglitter]

Camping: It’s In Tents! Funny Quotes and Anecdotes for Outdoor Lovers

“Camping: It’s in tents!” is a delightfully punny phrase that captures the playful spirit of outdoor adventures. This humorous twist on the word “intense” brings a smile and adds a lighthearted touch to camping experiences. Whether you’re setting up a tent for the first time or sharing stories around the campfire, this phrase serves as a reminder to find joy in every moment.

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Funny camping moments often arise when dealing with nature’s unpredictability—think of the challenges of assembling a tent in the wind or the hilarious mishaps of cooking outdoors. Embracing the laughter that comes with camping brings friends and family closer together, creating unforgettable memories.

This witty saying makes for great decor on camping-themed items, like T-shirts, mugs, or wall art, perfect for any outdoor enthusiast’s collection. Ultimately, “Camping: It’s in tents!” encapsulates the fun, camaraderie, and shared experiences that make camping a cherished adventure filled with laughter and joy. So, gather your friends, pitch that tent, and let the good times roll!

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A "word pun campsite" is a playful and creative approach to camping that incorporates clever puns and wordplay into the outdoors experience. Think whimsical signs, fun T-shirts, and campfire stories that feature witty humor related to nature and camping. Whether it’s a sign that reads, "You can’t buy happiness, but you can camp (and that’s pretty close)," or a campfire cookout labeled “Grill and Chill,” these puns add a lighthearted touch to outdoor gatherings.

Creating a word pun campsite fosters laughter and camaraderie among friends and family, making the camping experience even more enjoyable. You can also organize pun-themed activities and games that encourage everyone to get creative. Ultimately, a word

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pun campsite transforms a simple outdoor adventure into a memorable occasion filled with fun, laughter, and plenty of puns, ensuring that every moment spent in nature is both entertaining and delightful!

Cheap camping gifts are perfect for outdoor enthusiasts on a budget. Thoughtful yet affordable items like compact flashlights, portable utensils, or durable water bottles can enhance any camping experience without breaking the bank. Consider unique options such as fire starters, survival kits, or cozy blankets that provide warmth and comfort. Even quirky camping-themed mugs or fun games can bring joy to outdoor adventures. With a little creativity, you can find cheap camping gifts that inspire memorable experiences in nature!

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The Review of Amazon Basics Tent

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.5 out of 5. Purchase on amazon Pros Affordability: The Amazon Basics Tent is a budget-friendly option, making it a great choice for beginners or infrequent campers. Easy to Set Up: This tent is designed for quick and hassle-free assembly, making it ideal for those unfamiliar with setting up camp. Spacious: Despite its compact design, the tent offers ample space, comfortably…

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TRANSFORM YOUR SPACE WITH THE PERFECT HOME DECOR ESSENTIALS

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From modern minimalist to rustic farmhouse, Lezul.shop offers home decor essentials that cater to a variety of tastes and preferences. The carefully curated collections help you discover pieces that reflect your individual style, while offering functional design elements that create an atmosphere of comfort and sophistication. Whether it’s a luxurious throw blanket, a statement mirror, or a stylish set of wall art, there’s something to suit every corner of your home.

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One of the most important aspects of home decor is durability. Lezul.shop understands that home essentials need to be both stylish and long-lasting. That’s why all the products are sourced from trusted brands and crafted with quality materials. Whether you’re purchasing a plush rug for the living room or a set of decorative cushions for the bed, you can rest assured knowing these pieces will stand the test of time.

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[magicsnowhetta]

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[gallusrostromegalus]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

[dipnots]

How to Dominate Your Next Camping Trip: The Ultimate List of Must-Have Gear!

Camping is a great way to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life and enjoy the great outdoors. Whether you’re a seasoned camper or a beginner, it’s important to have the right gear and supplies to make your camping trip a success. In this post, we’ll cover the essentials for a camp, including shelter, bedding, cooking equipment, and more. Shelter The first essential for any camp is…

[gayspacepiratesss]

A slightly more well-developed thought on beds in the Lighthouse, after realizing Neve does (kind of) have one:

Since the Fade is shaped by dreams and desires, do beds represent each character's relationship to self-care?

I've had coffee now so hopefully this makes a little sense 😅

***

*Davrin's whole character arc revolves around learning how to love and care properly for Assan, so he literally can't afford to ignore creature comforts. But also he's learning how to care for himself if he's not just living to die? Bed: plush quilt and full mattress.

*Taash is figuring out how to care for and integrate all parts of themselves and their identity, but they're already pretty good at expressing desire and their own preferences. Bed: fancy headboard, room for two. Needs some pillows.

*Harding has camping gear but she LOVES to be outside and go camping so I think this is actually her happy place and the kind of set-up she'd choose in real life. Bedroll and tent to shelter from the elements.

*Bellara and Rook have similar chaise lounge style couches, which suggests they're similarly never TOTALLY able to relax, but still understand the value of comfort. Bel has a better pillow/upholstery situation. 

*Lucanis and Neve both have awful tiny cots (I have learned lol), which tracks with the fact that they're both a bit self-neglecting, and the two "hardenable" companions. But Lucanis feeds himself better and his cot has more blankets/padding. Neve's cot is so small I didn't even see it at first. 😅 Mayyyybe there's a blanket folded underneath? Tracks with the black coffee and scurvy aesthetic.

*Emmrich only has a stone slab and a tall narrow chair. This could suggest that he is the most self-neglecting companion (and Manfred has to pick up the slack). But maybe he has a really different, distinctively Nevarran idea of what's comforting? This is a man who's thrilled to meet new skeletons and has his own little bone child/apprentice, so he might just think love looks a little bit different than the rest of the team.

[corellianhounds]

Some headcanons for Mando:

Anything he uses to shower or wash his clothes with is unscented. Those scent-neutralizer dryer sheets keep his clothes from smelling like anything that can be detected while he’s on a hunt. Very few species are exempt from being unable to detect him

He keeps a clean ship and a strict schedule. He’s been self-sufficient and on his own for long enough he knows how to cook and take care of himself. Keeping your tools, gear, weapons, armor, and ship in clean, efficient working order means you’re less likely to have to spend time fixing one of them when it breaks from your lack of routine maintenance, and his body is just another tool in his arsenal; sleep, food, necessary medical care, staying limber and getting vitamin D at some point all go a long way towards ensuring he can last longer in the field. You can’t run something ragged every day and expect for that to be sustainable.

That also means he’s well-equipped to handle long stints without different necessities when needed from time to time; you can push yourself pretty far when you’re already in prime condition.

Wilderness survival skills were some of the first things he learned while being brought up by the Mandalorians. Being aware of your surroundings, setting up and breaking down camp, foraging and hunting for food, building impromptu shelters, purifying water, navigating and tracking, having a variety of general and specific medical knowledge— All of those skills are building blocks for self-sufficiency. You never know when you’re going to be alone or thrust into survival scenarios, so it pays to be prepared.

That also means he’s capable of stomaching a wide variety of what some might consider inedible. Beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s rude to decline someone’s offer of food or hospitality so in any scenario where food is in short supply and/or it’s been offered to him, he’s taking it. As long as it’s something he knows humans can digest, he’s open to whatever cultural or regional dishes his travels have to offer, and he’ll muscle through the less pleasant tastes or textures of food he’s had to make do with when he didn’t have other options.

He does know how to make food taste good, but that more often than not requires more spices and ingredients and hardware than he can afford or spare the room for, so he makes do without. Once the kid comes along he branches out a bit more to make sure he gets some variety.

Along the lines of self-sufficiency and independence, he has a lot of general repair skills: you may not always have somebody who can fix things for you, and he obviously isn’t going to pay somebody else to do something he’s capable of learning, except for when he’s short on time or resources. We see him working on the interior circuitry of his armor in the second episode. He knows how to bypass and pick locks. He has the electrical, mechanical, and structural know-how to fix his ship and would know how to weld and use a torch cutter and a variety of other tools, but it also means he’d know how to sew and mend his clothes. Soft goods are just as necessary as hardware.

Injuries where he genuinely needs professional medical care are few and far in between partially because he’s very good at what he does, and partially out of necessity. Though it is by choice, him tending to his own wounds may not necessarily be because he is neglectful or prideful or has a penchant for pain; medcenters cost money, and submitting to that care means he is vulnerable and at risk of somebody breaking his creed by force, or doing more damage when he can’t fight back. It’s why he likely refuses anesthesia or anything that will put him under and make him unaware of what’s happening while he’s asleep. Either he will find somebody he’s close to to help him, or he will find a way to muscle through self-administered medical care yet again, or he will die from his injuries (which means he will have gone down because of a fight)

Though he has a few physical reference materials and logs he’s written down important details in, a vast majority of his knowledge concerning trade routes, ballistics, geography, maps, various customs and cultures and languages, Guild bylaws— anything he could possibly need to know for a hunt— is committed to memory. He travels light, and the Mandalorians have an oral history more than a written one; belongings and archives can be destroyed, but their people live on and carry the knowledge that’s been passed down through centuries. It just makes more sense to him to commit everything to memory.

That being said, he does a significant amount of research before each hunt anyway, though the bulk of it is centered around the target themselves. Having all of your prep work done means the acquisition itself will go smoother.

He’s mathematically sharp: engine repair, manual piloting, vector calculus, electrical work, ballistics, basic engineering, weapons maintenance, financial management, and navigation by maps or by stars take a lot of mental acuity to understand and apply as quickly as he usually has to use them.

He’s not going to back down from others who purposefully encroach on his personal space, but he dislikes being in close proximity to strangers for extended periods of time. So much of his life is spent evading threats and fighting off challengers it’s hard to trust anybody to be that close. It’s not an aversion so much as it is an irritation that makes him tense. When you’re always looking over your shoulder, it’s just reflex to act defensively.

He doesn’t drink alcohol or caf unless he has sufficient time and he’s secure in the Crest without worry of attack; both impede his marksmanship and reflexes, neither of which are things he can afford while he’s working, so it’s usually only when he’s traveling through space that he’ll indulge

He doesn’t sing, but once the kid comes along he’s found that it’s easier to get him to sleep when he hums as he holds him and walks around the cargo hold.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

On one hand, I'm not a fan of physical stuff and camping.

On the other, I know he really wants more club members, and it would make him happy. Plus, I get to have a lot of alone time with him and listen to him excitedly info dump about mushrooms and eat the yummy camping food he makes.

I can imagine being like "Oh I would like to join but I don't exactly have/can't afford the proper clothing and stuff needed for-" and then he excitedly pulls out his extra hiking gear and tosses you his extra jacket and some clothes he outgrew. Please join his club.

I'm dumb and thought when he said that hiking wasn't the primary activity of the club and he avoided strenuous activity when he can, that meant the club had no hiking at all. My reading comprehension skills suck. But yeah, I would work through the unpleasant parts like hiking so I can enjoy the fun stuff with him.

....aaaaah sharing a tent though. Sleeping in separate sleeping bags but being next to each other.

Platonic and romantic it's very cute, being around him a lot because of the club and interest and being confused on why the others are intimidated by him cuz he's been nothing but nice to you, his favorite (and only other) club member.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

unrelated to the whole language conversation haha

if I'm planning a trip to bcn/the catalan region of spain in the summer (june-julyish) what are some must see things & what are some catalan foods that I should try? (particularly as someone who doesn't eat any red meat)

so other than barcelona, you should try and make a trip to montserrat, girona as well as go see the little villages on the costa brava. 🥰

for barcelona, here's my run-down for first-timers:

barça sights - camp nou is still under construction but you can still visit the barça museum and the store there is the biggest to get any gear.

art and architecture - visit the famous architect gaudí's masterpieces. sagrada família, casa batlló, la pedrera, and park güell are the most famous ones (you'll need to get tickets ahead of time). i also like domènech i montaner, who designed a lot of famous buildings around barcelona including the hospital of sant pau and palau de la música catalana. pro-tip: the palau has a cute cafe inside that is free to visit with good, cheap coffee and you can see some of the architecture without paying the entrance fee.

the beach! - you can't visit barcelona without going to the beach. barceloneta is the most famous one, but it can get a bit touristy and crowded, so if you can go up to the beaches in the castelldefels area, all the better.

historic sites around town - go to the gothic quarter, el born, la rambla. see the arc de triomf and take a stroll in the parc de la ciutadella.

shopping and eats - l'eixample is the place to go. not just for tapas but all types of cute restaurants too!

for day trips from barcelona, you could go to montserrat and visit the monastery there that all the players go to for good luck! the medieval town of girona is really cute and walkable. but my favourite is the costa brava. there are so many little villages where you can eat fresh seafood on the water and just enjoy a more relaxed atmosphere. and if you like salvador dalí, his museum is also on the coast.

as for catalan food, there's so much seafood, so not eating red meat is no problem. fideuà is a popular noodle dish with seafood (it's like our version of paella). but we also have rice dishes with seafood too. pa amb tomàquet (tomato bread) is available for every meal and you can put whatever you want on it. tortilla de patatas is amazing. we have tons of restaurants with fresh caught grilled or fried fish and seafood like prawns, octopus, razor clams, etc.

thanks so much, anon! 🫶 amc is a fan favourite among barça fans and we all wish she had a better farewell with the club (the way she was shown the door still leaves a bitter taste in the mouth...) but we all are waiting for her to open a cafe in barcelona once she retires!

so that sounds like a fantastic summer trip. basque country is one of the best places to visit in spain and the food is arguably the best in spain. you can't leave either city without doing pintxos tour (think tapas). pro-tip: they have pintxos on display in many restaurants, but they also have a menu where you can order too. make sure you check out the menu as each place has different ones made fresh to order!

bilbao:

pintxos and more pintxos - i like gure toki, motrikes, el globo, la viña del ensanche.

for a nicer meal - try lasai restaurante or etxanobe if you want to splurge. (there are plenty of michelin star restaurants in basque country but i have found them more affordable than other cities in europe!)

donostia:

pintxos: gandarias, atari, ganbara

hope this helps!

[wanderguidehub]

Anker 737 Power Bank Review: The Perfect Hiking and Camping Companion

Pros High Capacity: The Anker 737 Power Bank has a high-capacity battery that can charge multiple devices multiple times, making it perfect for long hiking trips or camping expeditions. Durable & Rugged: Designed with the outdoor enthusiast in mind, it is built to withstand harsh environments, and is therefore exceptionally durable. Fast Charging: The power bank features quick charge…

[lezuldotshop]

https://lezul.shop

[fidgetspringer-art]

So a while ago now I started writing this little AU story where Martin is an ADV rider instead of a homebody-hermit and the two of them meet out on the road. I really like the concept of this story and I might do some art for it in the near future, so i'm gonna share a snippet of it that I don't hate c:

-

Noah is still willing his hands to quit shaking when the adventure bike pulls into the small and, up until now, desolate patch of dry grass he’s in.

The bike pulling in isn’t much of a surprise, he’s heard the sound of the engine slowly approaching for a while now, the old gravel road only leading it closer, and he’d spent that time praying that whoever was on it would simply continue past.

No such luck.

Noah looks up when the rider kills the engine. It starts ticking almost immediately, the cold evening air cooling the metal quickly. The bike is big, Noah’s seen a good few of these machines on the road, even more so in recent years. This one is tall and bulky and shiny, but not new, Noah can tell that much, his eyes automatically seeking out the places where paint is chipped off or the fairings are scratched. It’s well cared for but equally well used.

Noah’s hand instinctually reaches out for the hilt of his knife where it’s resting in the grass by his knee. He’d set up his little makeshift camp less than an hour ago, digging through his saddle bags with hands that refused to stop trembling with residual adrenaline. He’d been ripping into his food rations when the stranger had intruded on his space.

The stranger slides off his bike with practised ease, trusting that his kickstand will take its weight.

He stands there for a second, watching.

At least Noah thinks it’s a man, it’s hard to tell under all the riding gear, but they’re tall and broad and they move in a way that set alarm bells ringing in Noah’s head.

Noah knows he’s staring, glaring might be a better word, but he doesn’t care. He’s alone with this stranger in the middle of nowhere, his helmet is tucked into his tent behind him, the tent that is currently tethering his bike to the ground. There’s no easy escaping, not if he wants to leave half his stuff behind and risk damaging his bike.

Any other day he’d be down for a fight, maybe even eager for it, but not today. He knows the stranger can see the bruises marring his face. The blood hastily wiped away from his eye where it had previously been streaming down from his scalp. He’s dizzy, and he’s worn down to the bone, and if this stranger wants to be an issue there is fuck all Noah can do to stop him.

The stranger stands eerily still for a little too long. Long enough that Noah’s pulse picks up, wondering what is going on inside that helmet. His hand is fully on the knife now, fingers tight around the hilt, he’s got it tucked up against his thigh but at this angle he has no doubt the stranger must have noticed.

As if reading the tension radiating off of Noah, the stranger looks away and instead turns his attention to the various bags and crates loaded onto the back of his own bike. He’s still got his visor down, so Noah has yet to get a good look at him, but the fact that he’s no longer staring at him is enough to lower Noah’s shoulders for the moment.

The man starts pulling items out of his baggage. Noah recognises the camp stove immediately. He’s always wanted one but so far he hasn’t been able to find one he can afford. He glances down at his own rations, the stale bread and dry instant noodles he has no way of boiling. He usually just lets them soak in cold water until they’re soft enough to eat, it’s not exactly a gourmet meal but it’s fine.

He watches the stranger, arms loaded up with items, turn and scan the area. Noah and his bike are taking up the prime real estate, the outskirts of the spot is dotted with taller grass while the patch Noah is in is almost barren.

For a second Noah is worried the stranger is going to come closer, it would make the most sense, to set up his burner where the ground is less uneven and where there’s less foliage around, but instead of intruding, or even asking, the biker seems to notice Noah’s shoulders draw up and he glances around at the rest of the available space instead. He finds a spot he apparently deems acceptable and kneels down, gently setting his items out in an organised sort of chaos.

Finally the man pulls his helmet off.

And it is a man, Noah was right. He looks a little older than him, a little bit of grey streaking through the hair by his ears. His hair is lighter on top than it is further down, and his beard is darker too, where it doesn’t have silver mixed in at least.

Noah is still staring. Even though the guy has decided to keep a respectful distance, he’s still too close to Noah for comfort. He’s less than three paces away and Noah is already wondering how on earth he’s going to get any sleep if this stranger decides to stay the night here.

Noah jumps at the sudden rumble of a deep voice. “You alright?”

He’s looking back at him now, the hint of a concerned crease between his eyes. “You crash out?”

Abruptly Noah remembers that half his face is still streaked with blood, not to mention the rapid swelling threatening to close up his left eye.

“No.” He says, keeping his voice even, relieved when it doesn’t waver, despite how woozy he’s feeling.

The stranger huffs and focuses back on his task of assembling his camp stove. He’s got a couple bags of what seems to be freeze dried hiking rations, the fancy expensive kind that comes in a hundred absurd flavours. He pours water into the pot from a water jug and gets the gas going.

“Looks like you’ve taken a beating.” He says next, not looking up from where he’s now slicing some kind of cured meat into chunks. The smell of it is carried over to Noah on the breeze and his poor stomach grumbles at the scent.

“Probably cause I have.” His voice comes out less steady this time and he hates when the man turns to him, obviously having noticed. He looks Noah up and down, assessing him.

Noah knows he looks bad, he doesn’t feel all that great either, but there’s no way in hell he’s about to let this guy know just how bad of a shape he’s in.

In an attempt to distract from the obvious, Noah sets to work tearing open the wrapping on his noodles. Thankfully the noise and movement is enough to draw the stranger’s eye away from his face. He’s sure he’s being judged for his poor excuse for a meal, but he’s not exactly made of money, especially not right now.

“You get robbed?” The question takes Noah by surprise but he plays it off.

“No.”

A beat of silence. “You try to rob someone?”

“You gonna stop asking stupid questions?”

For some reason that earns him a huff and the hint of a smile.

They prepare their respective meals in silence. Noah trying to not drool at the smell drifting over to him when hot water is poured into one of the packs of hiking rations. To Noah’s neglected stomach it smells like a restaurant.

He notices the stranger watching him out the corner of his eye when he snaps his dry noodles into his only still-intact travel bowl. He also notices the way he opens his mouth as if to say something when Noah unceremoniously dumps the remains of the cold water in his bottle over the noodles, followed by the spice mix. He doesn’t speak up though, just looks unhappily down into his own meal as he stirs it through.

Noah inhales his noodles before they’ve even gotten a chance to soften up as much as he usually does. His stomach is still rumbling when he’s done, so he reaches for his bread. It’s so stale it’s bordering on questionable, but he doesn’t find any mold on it so he figures it’s still fine.

He takes one bite and immediately regrets it. It’s rock hard and there’s an off taste to it, way past being edible. With a barely suppressed sigh he stuffs it back into the bag and chucks it vaguely in the direction of his backpack. He’ll just empty it into the bushes in the morning for the scavengers to find.

Noah blames the persistent ringing in his ears for the fact that he doesn’t realise there’s a person now standing right in front of him.

Instinct takes over, pushing Noah to his feet, knife in hand. He would probably be intimidating if not for the fact that as soon as he’s upright he starts listing to the side, dizziness overwhelming him. His head swims dangerously as black spots fill his vision, the ringing in his ears turns deafening.

“Hey woah!” The voice sounds far away, almost entirely drowned out by the cotton in Noah’s head. “Careful. How ‘bout you sit back down. There you go.”

Noah can feel hands on him and he wants to fight them, but he also realises that those hands holding him up is the only reason he’s not in a heap on the ground right now. He’s not so much sitting back down as he is being lowered to the ground. “You with me?” the voice asks again.

He’s sure he comes up with some eloquent answer, even if he’s not quite sure what that is. His vision is still swimming, but at least he’s now back to sitting down, even if the dirt below him feels strangely far away under his hands.

Whatever it is he said must not have been what the stranger had wanted to hear. “Hit your head pretty hard didn’t you?” He’s being propped up against the side of his bike, which he’s grateful for, he’s not sure he could stay sitting upright on his own, and weirdly letting his head fall back against the familiar weight helps to settle him a little bit.

“Wasn’t me that hit it, some other asshole did.” he croaks.

That also doesn’t seem to be what the stranger wants to hear and now he’s got a pitying look on his face that makes Noah want to punch him.

“You should be in the emergency room.”

Noah scoffs. “I’m fine.”

The man is hovering. He’s taken a step back, just outside of Noah’s personal bubble, but he’s still far too close for comfort. Noah wants him to fuck off already. He’d been considering packing his stuff and leaving if it looked like they would be sharing the camping spot for the night, but now Noah knows there’s no way he’s getting back on that bike any time soon.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

Noah glares, willing him to go away. “Literally just now.”

“When’s the last time you ate real food.”

Noah doesn’t say anything. That seems to be answer enough.

He’s had a rough go of it lately, money is running low and he’s had no luck picking up work in any of the towns he’s been through. Stealing food out of restaurant dumpsters is a good way to give yourself food poisoning, and when you’re essentially homeless that isn’t the sort of thing you want to be dealing with.

The stranger heaves a sigh and blessedly walks away. Noah lets his head knock back against his bike and winces at the way it makes his whole skull ache.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Reading by firelight.

AN: a short Gale oneshot, I typed this on mobile so please forgive any errors or formatting.

Summary: Gale watches Tav read by the fire.

The sun was setting softly over the camp, casting a warm orange glow over the horizon. This had always been Gales favourite time of the day. The cool afternoon breeze sweeping through the camp as he again started to prepare supper over the campfire. It wasn't the silence that he enjoyed, as the rest of his campmates retired to their tents for a while, to rest their battle weary bodies, it was the fact he could watch Tav. Their afternoon ritual of sitting by the campfire after battle, engrossed in a large tome left him utterly speechless. The way the light from the fire flickered against their soft skin, still a little grimy from the days adventure, causing shadows to dance over their visage was like a drug to him; more often than not he had to remind himself to focus on making sure the stew in the pot didn't over boil or burn. He never had a problem serving perfect meals when he first joined the delightfully weird selection of comrades he now had, but now the amount of spoiled food was becoming suspicious to the group as they all tried to create conspiracies surrounding this new phenomenon. The current favourite conspiracy coming from Astarion claiming "Maybe Gale is going senile in his old age, either that or the tadpole has helped itself to a few two many braincells". Wyll was ever the gentleman and always suggested that the days adventuring were getting harder, that it wasn't fair to put such undue pressure on him. Lae'zel would just tut at the rest of the camp and eat whatever was given to her, warriors were not afforded the constant luxury of exquisite food.

Gale would look longingly at Tav as they read, they were completely absorbed with their book every night so he wasn't scared of being caught, he'd imagine their long slender fingers stroking against his skin softly as he watched Tav gently stroke the pages of the book many a night, yearning to feel their delicate touch along his body and tangled in his hair, wanting to know what it would feel like for Tav to massage away his aches at the end of a long day or even relieve his frustrations.

Every night he would tell himself mentally "Come on Gale, go talk to them, you don't shut up any other time." He would try to gear himself up, he'd even thought of a good pick up line to use, yet in every scenario he thought up, it just didn't come out right, mentally cursing Astarion and his charm for raising the bar impossibly high; jealous of the way the pale elf could seemingly flirt and seduce with ease.

"Hey Tav, I'm an open book too... and you can read me any time you like." Gale shuddered at the thought of him actually trying to say that, in each made up scenario he always came across as awkward and stuttering, then Tav would look at him like he was a creep. Tonight, he told himself that he actually would talk to them, it didn't matter what it was about, hells he would talk about crop rotation or the rising 'wizarding insurance' prices in Waterdeep, he just needed to talk to them. He could talk to them out in the road but could never bring himself to speak when it was just him and Tav alone. For a man who had a propensity towards verbosity, he was always rendered speechless when alone with them.

Gale checked the cooking stew, making sure it was simmering and wouldn't over boil again, for what would be the 5th time in a fortnight. He ran his now clammy hands through his hair in the hopes to make himself more presentable, although, considering he hadn't had chance to change from his grubby blood stained robe, he didn't think Tav would be offended if his hair was a little messy. His mouth began to open and form words as he stepped towards you until Astarion burst out of his tent and called out.

"Mmm Darling." His voice as it's usual delicate purr. "Something smells delicious." Astarion takes a seat by Tav, their shoulders and knees touching in an overly friendly manner, his eyes flitting between their face and their neck."and I definitely don't mean the food." Astarions voice dropped into a lower more lustful purr as he admired Tav's long and slender neck.

Gale was stopped dead in his tracks by the interaction and stepped back towards the pot of stew, his head slumped down in disappointment, watching through a contemptuous gaze as Tav closed their book and began chatting energetically with Astarion. "It's always that damned vampire" Gale cursed to himself, wondering jokingly if he could find a pointy stick in the woods to acquainte Astarion with. He shook his head to clear away those thoughts, tonight was not his time, but maybe tomorrow it could be. "No, it would be." He told himself sternly. He promised himself that he would speak to Tav tomorrow. But for now, he would have the memory of their soft and slender hands to take back to his tent with him, it was always a welcome thought on these lonely nights, forever wishing he had more than his imagination.

[hihigherdi]

A long time ago when Trump was first in office, I had a sustained two week anxiety attack, convinced we were going to experience a significant war and I had to be prepared. I’d just gotten a big bonus and I spent a ton of it on survivor gear - all of those buckets of rice, beans, dehydrated food, camping gear, solar lights - so much more. I made go bags for work, my car and home. The primary one was stolen when I first moved in here via a break in where thieves stole a lot of stuff people were storing in the garage. The backpack was in my parking spot - poof, gone.

I lugged so much of it here - over the years I’ve slowly simplified it but I’ve been a little afraid to let all of it go. it started this habit of buying extras - why not buy three Justin’s boxes of peanut butter packets even though I only need one? Why not have five ketchups so I never run out?

When R was here organizing, I *saw* it - all of the canned food that had expired, all of the stuff I was keeping in the pantry that I didn’t use because I didn’t even know I had it. She gently said “if you feel like you want to bake cookies, you can just zip over to the store and buy flour.” Part of it was never having enough food when we were little - we could afford it, my mom just never bought enough for us. It’s why I’d drive around on Christmas looking for snack food before all the kids came over. Granted, that could be my food insecurity speaking and my filter was grounded from that, it’s a very likely possibility.

Anyway. R is coming back for my last infusion bringing her BFF A who is an organizer and a professional chef. She’s going to organize so much of my stuff but the deal is, I only have what I really want to keep, consider getting rid of the extras of things I don’t need (including three spatulas, etc) and focusing on keeping what I love and use for myself every week instead of all of the imaginary dinner parties I throw in my head. So that’s what I’ve done today, after…11 hours of sleep? I’ve been slowly whittling it all down and it feels so great. I’m 90% done. It’s not as much as I thought but it’s just so good to let it go.

My surgery is tentatively scheduled for October 01, pending what happens with this biopsy on Friday. That feels lightning fast. My last chemo infusion is next Wednesday - I’m not going to lie, I’m afraid of it based on this last one, I was so debilitated by the fatigue, I had more hair shedding than usual, no appetite and the peripheral neuropathy was hard so I’m going to try to freeze my hands and feet during the infusion to prevent it. It has definitely lessened, thank God but it’s not gone away entirely. It can take a long time.

I cry so frequently these days, even writing that it’s the last one. I’ve held it all together for five months, and I can feel the emotional and mental reserves I’ve leaned on to that beginning to crumble. That’s probably good. Things are starting to get……thin when I’m sleeping. My dreams are wild and I heard repeated knocking three times last night. My cats were on high alert. I pit myself in a golden bubble and reminded myself that I live in a building where people could be knocking at other doors, not likely at 3am but it helped. I stayed up until 4:30am watching The Office and then slept hard until 9am.

I’m numb when I think of the MRI biopsy on Friday, two of my worst things happening at the same time is like a cruel joke (biopsies aren’t painful but just traumatic waiting for the results). I’m strong - I can and will do this. And then chemo, and then the surgery which completely freaks me out - I have a massive fear of “going under” - and then I’ll know what happens after those biopsies come back.

In talking about work, my oncologist recommend that I extend my leave of absence to at least March of next year. The neuropathy is concerning her as are my cognitive tests, and I think for a living. She reminded me how they have taken my body to the point of decline where the basics work but there’s a lot of damage. And the mental damage of all of the biopsies on top of that, she thinks I need time. I agree with her. So I’m going to pursue that, it means I live on a lot less and I don’t think I am guaranteed a job when I go back but I’m not worried about that.

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Rain on my parade

I can’t find it but this is inspired by that post about how if you create a lot of cold air (like Danny with his ice power) you could potentially create a cold front which would cause rain! So thank you, this was inspired by that wonderful science-enthusiast.

It had been days. At first, Bruce hadn’t given it much thought, forecasts were wrong all the time. That a supposedly warm and sunny day had turned into a near-constant heavy shower wasn’t surprising, so Bruce had gone about his business. When the second day of rain had come around, the vigilante still hadn’t thought too much of it, but as the afternoon rolled around with no change, he got on the phone to make a few inquiries. By day three, he had called Dick in Bludhaven and on day four, the younger hero had actually answered. Considering how sparse communication was between them since Jason’s death, this was an indicator that something was very wrong.

Bruce had already sent out feelers into the underground, he’d contacted some of his less savoury acquaintances. He tried everyone, absolutely everyone, and yet. Nobody had heard anything about a new villain or a meta with meteorological abilities. By day five, Bruce knew he had to do something before everything went out of control. Non-stop heavy rain was not only unnatural for Gotham, it was dangerous. Already, hundreds of homes near the river bed had gotten flooded and people were being forced to find temporary refuge with relatives and hotels if they were lucky and could afford it. There had been no death reported yet, but the longer this went on, the higher the chance of it became. With more rain there would be more flooding that would encroach on the normally dry land and that meant more people being left homeless, not to mention what would happen if the river overflowed completely.

“Bruce, I’ve got something,” Dick’s voice came through the communicator.

“What is it?” The man asked.

“There was a sharp drop in temperature near Milford about six days ago,” the younger man said.

“Send me the coordinates,” Bruce answered as he started putting on the cowl.

They finally had a lead.

Danny was ecstatic. This was the best vacation he had ever had. He owed Jazz so many favours when he finally got back. Not only was she currently covering for him with the parents, she had driven him to the middle of nowhere with his camping gear when he’d asked. She’d said he needed time to relax and this week where he was technically supposed to be doing some kind of fictitious space program was her way of making sure he got it.

The out-of-the-way location was ideal for what Danny had wanted to do for a while, which was testing the limits of his powers. He had messed around with a few of his ability: intangibility, flight, strength, before starting on the newest and thus most exciting one: his ice powers. Since he’d gotten them he’d wanted to test his limits with it. At first he tried to see how much ice he could produce at once and how far he could shoot it. Then it was how long he could maintain the ice and how long it took for it to melt. Then, he decided to find out how cold he could go. This took more concentration and he fell into a state of sharp focus as he sent wave after wave of colder and colder ice away from him. Time started to become meaningless as his ghostly body didn’t need food or rest for a long while longer than normal humans.

By the time he “woke up” six days had passed and he felt as relaxed as he had ever been since he became Phantom. Danny let out a relaxed sigh as he sat down. Jazz would come by tomorrow as they had agreed on one week. That meant he had one last day to do whatever he wanted before he returned to Amity and his responsibilities. This was going to be fun!