#but.. I buy everything I own from places like thrift stores and the bins so.. sometimes I just see something

[ja3yun]

Push My Buttons | L.HS

bodyguard!heeseung x rich girl!reader warnings: enemies to ???, angst, smut (mdni), car sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, mentions of spit, possessive!hee, some violence, not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.5k synopsis: lee heeseung has been hired as your personal security by your father. you and him don't see eye to eye, so when tensions rise at your best friends party, you both know how to push each others buttons. a/n: hi! this is a thank you for 1k! i still don't believe it if i'm honest because i don't think i deserve it but regardless, thank you all so much if you follow me! this is a little idea i had sitting on my laptop that i've decided to complete for this occasion so enjoy!

_____

Browsing through the racks of the Prada store, you can't help but feel acutely aware of the imposing presence of your hired security, stationed just two feet away.

"Do you have to stick to me like glue all the time?" you mutter, not bothering to meet his gaze.

“It’s my job, Y/N. You’d know what that was if you weren’t such a spoiled brat,” he spits back, his eyes rolling in exasperation.

Lee Heeseung was appointed by your father to ensure your safety during his frequent business trips. Unfortunately, your father's demanding role as CFO of a tech company keeps him away for extended periods. He doesn't trust you to fend for yourself, fearing that others might exploit you to reach him. Given your father's controversial reputation stemming from questionable business dealings, Heeseung's imposing presence is a constant fixture in your life.

Your bodyguard would be more tolerable if he weren't so insistent on being by your side every second. It's tiresome, really, how he clings to you like a shadow, never granting you a moment of solitude. If you go to the bathroom, he is right outside the door and if you dare try and sneak out the window - which you have tried numerous times - he is chasing you down the street, sweeping you off your feet and taking you home.

You had hoped that being only a couple of years older, he might adopt a more relaxed approach, letting you live your life a little, but you were wrong. Since the first day he turned up, he’s been nothing but a hoover, sucking the fun and freedom from your life all to keep you safe.

Sure, he probably knows deep down that he's a tad overbearing, but hey, he's clinging to this gig like a lifeline. Compared to his last job of being a bouncer at some dingy club, knocking back people with fake IDs and kicking out drunk people, your dad's cushy paycheck is like hitting the jackpot.

To Heeseung, you’re just some rich kid who has more money than sense, squandering it on everything and anything you deem a necessity at the time, only to then throw them away or forget about them. Considering he struggled to pay his rent before this job, he hates your whimsy ways with money. 

It's like you live in your own little bubble, completely disconnected from the real world. There are people out there starving and you’re buying thousands of pounds worth of clothes that you could easily get from a bargain bin for a fiver. 

Finally, you spare him a glance, “Just stand over there, okay? You really don’t have to be here and mess up my whole vibe,” you flail your arms around hoping the gestures will add some exclamation to your statement.

With a resigned sigh, he acquiesces, nodding, "In my line of sight at all times, got it?" He scans the area once more, on high alert for anything out of place, before reluctantly giving you some breathing room.

Heeseung blends in, looking through the obscenely expensive trousers which he is convinced he has seen the exact same jeans in thrift stores, just without the brand label. It’s a reminder of the contrast between you both; your lavish ways are still an alien concept to him.

He’s been in this role for 3 months and he won’t get over it, how different you both are. Your beliefs and traits are so starkly dissimilar that not once have you ever seen eye to eye. He doesn’t hate you, but he’s close to it. You always treat him with little to no respect and considering he’s only looking out for you per your daddy’s request, he would like to think you would be a little more grateful. 

Suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by a lone figure approaching you, a slick smile playing on his lips. Heeseung’s jaw tightens as he analyses the scene in front of him, trying to speculate what the guy wanted, although Heeseung already knows his intentions.

You’re too busy trying to decide whether beige or cream looks better on you as you hold out two vest tops to notice the incoming man.

“I think you should go with that one,” the sudden boom of a voice beside you makes you jump and turn to him, clutching the clothes to your chest as you try to still your thumping heart, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful.”

Normally, you pay no mind to greasy men like him, but his cinched suit which was clearly tailor-made to fit and his sleek dyed brown hair was enough for you to give him a second glance. You can always spare some time for people who look good.

“Which one?” you ask, holding them back up at arm's length.

“The left one, I think you would look sexy in any of them, to be honest,” he smirks, thinking he’s being so smooth but you’re not really impressed by flattery. You know you look good, you see yourself in the mirror every day. Plus, he’s only trying to oil you up so he can either as you out or try and fuck you. The only one who genuinely gives you truthful advice or says you look good and mean it with no intention is Heeseung.

Your bodyguard is watching like a hawk, face steaming with anger as the guy puts his hand on your waist, holding one of the vest tops to your chest area. He’s already given the guy enough leeway by even letting him speak to you, but now he’s touching you, and Heeseung will be damned if he lets him get away with that.

With measured steps, Heeseung comes up behind you, licking his lips as hugs you from behind, “Baby girl, are you almost done?” he whispers loudly enough that the unwanted man in front of you can hear, “Who is this?” he asks, eyes now pointed forward.

The stranger's confidence falters under Heeseung's intense scrutiny, his eyes widening slightly as he realises the gravity of the situation. Heeseung's demeanour is unmistakably protective, his stance leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. His eyes are so dark that the boy knows that one wrong move will have Heeseung pouncing on him.

“I’m Woobin,” he says almost inaudibly. It’s amazing how quickly he resigned from his cocky attitude as soon as Heeseung made his presence known.

"Do you work here, Woobin?" Heeseung's voice is a low rumble against your ear, his lips trailing a path of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his hands caress your stomach, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns against the skin beneath your shirt

The butterflies in your tummy are fluttering around as if they’ve been disrupted from their nest by his touch. This is new, he hasn’t done this before, usually opting to just stand between you and potential danger. It's exhilarating and maddening all at once, the line between protection and possessiveness blurring in the heat of the moment.

Heeseung knows that if he simply said he was your security, it wouldn’t deter the man, he had to think on his feet. That and the way he touched you evoked something inside him, protectiveness laced with something else. 

“I don’t work here, I-”

“Then get your hands the fuck off my girl,” Heeseung interrupts Woobin, maintaining eye contact with him as he bites down a little on the nape of your neck, almost like he’s physically marking you as his own in front of a potential suitor.

Your head is in a frenzy, knowing that Heeseung is stepping far beyond his role of protection, yet, you don’t stop him. It would be lying to say that his lips didn’t feel good on your skin, the way his fingers lightly gripped the softness of your stomach gave you fanny flutters like nothing else; as he boldly stakes his claim, you can't help but feel a surge of desire mingling with frustration

But this is also the man that is currently cockblocking you right now, stopping you from getting Woobin’s number and potentially a good fuck that you’re clearly in desperate need of; why else would you be getting turned on by Heeseung right now? This is the man you cannot stand, he is the last person on earth you want to be with. 

Woobin awkwardly laughs and backs away, giving a slight wave to you as he walks out of the store, leaving you both in the thick silence.

As his form disappears into the distance, Heeseung stands by your side, his stare unflinching as he watches the threat go by, proud of himself for handling the situation quickly. Heeseung hasn’t let you go, his hands moving from your tummy to your waist, gripping it softly.

You don’t know what to do, still standing in a haze of shock and confusion, your eyes watching the back of Woobin with intensity. The man behind you didn’t even have to say much before Woobin was running with his tail between his legs.

Honestly, you know Heeseung can be intimidating, but this must have been a new level, even for him. You couldn’t see his eyes, yet, you know they held only room for intimidation.

Heeseung's attitude relaxes somewhat, but his protective stance remains firm. He slowly releases you from his grip, placing one last kiss on your neck for what reason he doesn’t know. 

You take a moment to compose yourself, internally dealing with the mixed feelings of the encounter before pure rage flushes over you, “What the fuck was that?” you seeth, twisting your body to face him.

“What was what?” he asks, unfazed by your angry demeanour. 

Slamming the vests back on the rack, you face him, your shorter stature suddenly being a hindrance as you try to act tough, “You know what! You just cockblocked me for no reason,” you ball your fists to the side of your hips, trying not to cause too much of a scene in the store. 

“Good. God knows what he had, he was a creep,” Heeseung’s face is stoic, not giving much of his emotions away which only serves to piss you off more. 

You wanted him to look a little bit sorry for overstepping, to say he was at least sympathetic towards your frustration. Instead, he just stands there, insulting the boy he didn’t even know.

Letting out a groan, you shut your eyes and unclench your hands, “I can’t ever have any fun with you around,” you try to calmly explain but as the words leave your lips, you begin to question why you’re trying to be civil in the first place. 

This man is the bain of your existence, the reason you haven’t had sex in months, he is utterly infuriating and here he stands in front of you with no remorse for ruining your life.

Heeseung nods, feigning understanding as he leans down to make eye contact with you, his nose almost touching yours, “I don’t know, baby girl, it seems like you were having a blast a second ago,” he says smugly, a half smirk creeping onto his face.

You beam red, embarrassment and anger mixing to create a shade of crimson you didn’t know you could make. He was frustrating, arrogant, irrational, rude, cocky, and overall just irritating. You hate Lee Heeseung.

Winking at you, he nudges his nose with yours before standing back up, his figure back to towering over you, “Pick the one on the right and let’s get a move on,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets and taking one giant step back. 

It was like he was mocking you, giving you your space after infiltrating it as if he wasn’t leaving wet kisses on your neck five minutes ago. 

With a huff, you face the two vests once again, looking between both options, each one having its own backer. You bite your lip and contemplate over them, choosing the one on the right.

_____

As you apply your final coat of mascara, you take one long look in the mirror. You look great, everything about you falls into place perfectly, your hair and makeup only adding to your beauty while the dress you’re wearing hugs you nicely.

Obviously, you don’t tell Heeseung that you had a party tonight, knowing that he would lock you up like some Disney princess in your castle. If there was one thing Heeseung hated more than men coming into your zone, it was parties where tons of men could. 

The last party you went to was just before Heeseung arrived on the scene, the bodyguard now never letting you experience any joy or social gatherings that weren’t accompanied by him or a simple meet-up with friends. ‘There’s too much risk at a party’ he will always tell you.

A knock on your bedroom door almost makes you drop the mascara wand but you catch it before it causes disaster. 

“I’m coming in,” Heeseung’s voice travels through the door before he swings it open. His eyes trail over your body as he assesses the outfit, “A bit dressed up for a night in with me, no?” he tries to pass it off as a lighthearted joke but he knows he’s about to argue with you about your plans.

“Oh, y’know, just thought I would try and make an effort to sit in and watch Louder Milk for the nth time,” you roll your eyes, twisting the mascara shut and turning to face him.

Heeseung grumbles, “Let’s cut to the chase where you tell me where you plan on going and I obviously stop you,” he crosses his arms and tilts his head expectantly.

But you can’t let him win, not this time around. It’s your best friend’s birthday night out and if you miss it, you’ll never be invited to anything again; you can’t miss a 21st birthday party and expect there not to be consequences, especially not in your circle of friends.

You finish getting ready with a sense of purpose, carefully placing your lip oil and hairbrush into your YSL bag. "I've got plans," you announce, nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders.

His brows furrow slightly. "You never mentioned we had plans tonight," he remarks, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"We don't have plans, Heeseung. I do. And you weren’t invited," you retort, your tone tinged with sarcasm as you shoot him a playful smirk.

He raises an eyebrow, trying to decipher your intentions. "A party? A date?" he ventures, scanning your attire and deducing that this isn't just a casual outing.

As you attempt to breeze past him, he swiftly moves to block the doorway with his arm, his muscles tensing as he grips the doorframe. You lock eyes with him, noticing the frustration brewing beneath the surface.

His jaw tightens as you stand your ground, a silent challenge passing between you, "Tell me where you're off to," he demands, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.

You really need to get fucked because he’s suddenly turning you on, and his body starting to look like a jungle gym. Regardless of the fury and hatred for the boy in front of you, when he got angry, he was a new level of hot; it’s probably the reason you subconsciously push his buttons.

“I am going to Ryujin’s birthday party,” you confess, taking hold of his arm and trying to pry it from the wall, but he’s too strong and it doesn’t work. Even with all your efforts, it doesn’t budge.

Smiling at your feeble attempts to move him, Heeseung cockily leans on one foot, the other tucking behind his leg as he watches you struggle.

Undeterred, you try to slip under his arm, but he effortlessly scoops you up and returns you to your room, closing the door behind you with a practised ease. His years dealing with drunks at his previous job have endowed him with certain skills in handling runaways..

"Don't make this difficult, Y/N," he warns.

"You're the one being difficult! It's my best friend's birthday. Are you seriously telling me I can't go? I'm not in danger, you know," you retort angrily, frustration evident in your voice.

Heeseung understands that you're completely oblivious to the dangers lurking around your family, shielded by your innocent perspective. No one has bothered to inform you about your father's involvement in money laundering and his dealings with shady men. In your eyes, having a bodyguard feels like an unnecessary intrusion into your life rather than a protective measure.

"Listen, let's just imagine I let you go. Where is it?" he asks, a tinge of apprehension in his voice.

"Serenity," you reply, already sensing the tension building.

Heeseung's eyes widen in disbelief, "Serenity? The bar down by the loch? Are you serious?" he exclaims, his concern evident.

It was a losing battle the moment you opened your mouth. The bar isn’t known for its good reputation, it’s sleazy and grim, and despite its calm name, no one who occupies the bar could be considered peaceful.

Ryujin picked it simply because she likes to cosplay as a poor person sometimes, wondering what it would be like to live on the other side of wealth while obnoxiously spending a shit ton of money, completely rendering her ideas pointless.

You don’t agree with it but she is your best friend, the only person that gave you the time of day when you didn’t have a penny to your name all those years ago.

"I am not letting you step foot in that place," Heeseung asserts firmly, drawing a line in the sand.

“She hired out the whole bar, it’s not like anyone can just walk in,” you try to reason back but it doesn’t work as Heeseung’s resolve remains the same.

“You aren’t going, end of discussion. The whole neighbourhood is trouble and your friend is fucking stupid for this,” he scratches his jaw as the worst-case scenarios pop into his head. He might not like you but he really can’t stand some of the thoughts popping into his head, the urge to protect you growing stronger by the second.

The loch is a small part of town, mostly made up of deadbeats and criminals. Word spreads fast around there and there is a high chance the scums of the area know a bunch of snooty rich kids are going to be there for the picking.

You need to go, you can’t cancel any more plans so you need to think of something quick, “You can come with me,” you suggest, stepping closer to him. Would it be overbearing and annoying to have him there? Yes but at least you would be there. And it might actually be good if he was, after all, he is good at his job; you feel safe around him and the more he’s warning you away from Serenity and the loch, the more you’re starting to want his protection.

“I thought I wasn’t invited?” He raises his eyebrows sceptically.

Placing your hands on his chest, you trail them up to his shoulders, a pout forming on your lips. "Well, I'm inviting you now. Please, Heeseungie?" you implore, employing your best puppy-dog eyes and fluttering lashes in an attempt to sway him.

Typically, your pleading face doesn't work on him, but the combination of your hands massaging his tense shoulders and the endearing nickname starts to chip away at him.

"Fine. We can go for an hour or so, and then I'm taking you straight back home, understand?" he relents, already second-guessing his decision.

You squeal with joy, wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping up and down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Finally, you've managed to reason with him.

Pushing you away gently, he clears his throat. "Be at the car in 10 minutes before I change my mind."

This is going to end disastrously.

_____

"Remember—"

"In your line of sight at all times," you finish, a hint of exasperation in your voice as you recite Heeseung's usual mantra.

Heeseung unbuckles his seatbelt with a grunt, his irritation clear as he mutters curses under his breath. He can't believe he's ended up in this mess, much less mocked by you. He is well aware that this is a recipe for disaster especially as he examines the area and notices gritty individuals prowling around the loch's borders, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Heeseung is confident in his ability to handle himself; it's your safety that concerns him the most as he observes a suspicious figure crossing in front of your car.

You waste no time darting out of the car and hurrying to the club's entrance, leaving Heeseung trailing behind, a gust of wind in your wake.

"This fucking girl," he grumbles to himself as he parks the car and follows after you. He sees through your tactic—trying to get inside before him so he'll be left waiting outside while you venture off on your own. But he's not falling for it today.

He catches up to you just as you're about to give your name to the bouncer, his arm instinctively settling around your waist. The bouncer eyes Heeseung with a sceptical gaze, taking note of his attire and demeanour, which hardly scream 'rich kid bellend.'

As Heeseung squeezes your side, you shoot him a playful smirk over your shoulder. "Oh, this is my boyfriend. He's just trying to get into character for the place—dirty-chic and all that," you quip sarcastically, gesturing between him and the bouncer.

The bouncer chuckles at your comment, nodding in amusement. "You've done a good job. I almost mistook you for one of those creeps by the water," he jests, stepping aside to let you both in.

Heeseung doesn't react to your teasing or the bouncer's remarks. He's grown accustomed to such comments after spending the past few months with you and your friends. From being called shabby to poor, to filthy to crude, he's heard it all. Sometimes you apologise for your friend's words, but he knows the damage is already done.

It’s times like that that he has some faith in you, that you aren’t all diamonds and gold, that you do have a heart underneath it all.

Sticking close to you, you both end up at the bar ordering a gin and tonic for you and a water for himself. He knows everything about you by now, the constant watchful eye on you has got him to learn your favourite everything, so he finds himself ordering for you more times than not. That is, when you let him be actively seen with you.

"Can you vanish over there while I find Ryujin?" you ask, already scanning the room for the birthday girl.

Nodding, Heeseung points towards a nearby wall. "I'll be over there. If anything happens, remember to stay where I can see you. Don't run off; I will find you. And if you're going to the bathroom, come and get me," he advises, his tone firm as he leans down to emphasize the importance of his instructions.

"Yeah, sure," you reply casually, already making your way over to your friends at the other end of the bar, their excited screams and squeals guiding your path.

True to his word, Heeseung gives you space but remains vigilant, never taking his eyes off you. He's pleasantly surprised when three hours pass, and you're only on your second drink. Normally, he's had to carry you out of brunch with your university friends, and that's not even bottomless. Part of him thinks you’re remaining sober for your own vigilance, which makes him happy that you aren’t so reckless to get drunk in an unfamiliar setting around a lot of people you don’t know.

As the night progresses, Heeseung's gaze remains fixed on you from his position against the wall. He observes the way you interact with your friends, the genuine joy evident in your laughter and the twinkle in your eyes. Seeing you light up like this is a rarity, but it warms something inside him to witness you truly enjoying yourself.

Despite his reservations and occasional frustrations, Heeseung takes his role of keeping you safe very seriously. The thought of anything happening to you weighs heavily on his mind, not just because of the potential consequences from your father, but because he has come to genuinely care about your well-being. It's a realisation that surprises even him, how much he's come to feel responsible for you beyond just fulfilling his duties as a bodyguard.

Day by day, Heeseung finds himself spending more time in your presence. Even when he should be stationed at the front door, he often finds himself drawn to your side, whether it's watching TV shows together or cooking dinner. Sure, these moments are often punctuated by arguments over his choice of shows or the random spices he adds to your meals, but they keep things interesting, injecting a sense of spontaneity into his otherwise regimented routine.

And truth be told, he finds a strange satisfaction in winding you up, relishing the sight of the vein in your forehead protruding whenever you're exasperated with him. Despite the occasional clashes, there's an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a dynamic that keeps him on his toes and reminds him that guarding you isn't just a job - it's become a massive part of his life.

Recently, he has become extra protective over you, the incident at the Prada store being a prime example. Men like Woobin are not the ones he should be protecting you from, but he can’t help it, you’re too precious to be led off by the likes of him.

Shaking his head, he disregards his last thought. You’re not precious, you’re a princess, a snooty diva with an attitude problem.

This is what he has to tell himself every day.

He watches you go up to the bar and sit on the stool as you order another drink, but his attention shifts to a familiar face in the crowd. Woobin - and he is walking straight for you. Like he hasn’t dealt with him enough today, it was almost as if thinking about him that manifested him straight into your lap.

As Woobin twists the stool you're sitting on to face him, Heeseung's grip on the empty cup tightens, his knuckles turning white with the effort to maintain his composure. He knows he can't just stride over there like he did at the store; he crossed a line then, kissing your neck was too far, and biting down on you to mark you was too far. But the possessive feeling that had simmered earlier resurfaces as he watches Woobin casually tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His mind races with a mantra, a desperate attempt to keep his emotions in check. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here.

But as he watches Woobin's hand graze your leg, Heeseung's resolve crumbles.

"Fuck this," he mutters under his breath, his anger boiling over as he pushes himself off the wall and throws his cup away. Without a second thought, he makes a beeline for you, determined to put an end to this unwanted intrusion.

You suddenly feel Heeseung's chest press against your back, his presence feels overpowering, his aura dark and intense. You glance at Woobin and notice the fear flicker back into his eyes, just like before, as Heeseung speaks with a menacing tone, "Have you got a death wish or something, mate?" His question hangs in the air, a clear warning.

Woobin takes a step back, but despite the quiver in his pupils, he refuses to back down. "She obviously isn't satisfied with you," he retorts, attempting to sound tough. "She hasn't even tried to bat me off."

You scrunch your face in disbelief at Woobin's audacity. His attempt to turn the situation on you is off-putting, and any attraction you may have felt towards him suddenly dissipates.

Heeseung's gaze shifts down to you, his eyes hooded as he leans in close. "Is that true, baby girl? Do I not satisfy you?" His words send a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you can form a response, he leans even closer, his breath hot against your cheek as he whispers in your ear, "You better agree with me, or else I'll punch his lights out, right here, right now."

His threat hangs in the air, leaving you feeling torn between conflicting emotions. As you struggle to find the right words, Heeseung's lips graze the skin of your earlobe, sending a jolt of sensation through you. You're unsure whether he's doing this to turn your mind to mush so you can do nothing but agree with him or assert his dominance over Woobin, who watches with a flushed neck, clearly intimidated by Heeseung's display of possessiveness.

Nodding slowly, you side-eye Heeseung, “Y-you do,” you say quietly but as he bites down on your ear and you yelp, you speak up a bit more confidently, “You do satisfy me.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, placing one final kiss on your ear, “You heard her, so get the fuck away from her, or I will throw your body in the loch and no one will even care to look for you,” he challenges Woobin, threatening him like some gangster.

As Woobin backs up and mutters ‘This is not fucking worth it’, Heeseung smiles triumphantly, knowing he’s scared him off for good. Heeseung fixes your hair, gathering it all to sit nicely at the back, running his fingers through it as he silently warns any other men in the club that you’re no one but his.

You hate to admit it, but it turns you on a little.

But your responsible head twists back on and you understand what Heeseung has done again, “Heeseung,” you slap his chest and push him away, “Stop fucking babying me!” Standing up from the stool, you weave through the people at the club in search of the exit, Heeseung’s antics finally pushing you too far. 

"I am doing my job, Y/N," he shouts over the chatter and music, his voice barely audible amidst the din of the club.

"No, you aren't. That is not your job," you retort, your voice rising above the noise. "Pretending to be my boyfriend and scaring away potential fucks is not part of the remit!"

Your words hang in the air, heavy with frustration and disappointment. You push him away one more time, creating some distance between you before storming out of the club.

Fuming with anger and adrenaline, you make your way through the car park, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. Part of you resents Heeseung for his overbearing behaviour, but another part can't deny the thrill you felt with his protective display. It's infuriating to admit, but the feeling of his possessiveness is sending shivers straight down south, You hate that you're even thinking like this.

His touch on your ear and neck lingers in your mind, igniting a whirlwind of desire and confusion. You're not thinking straight anymore, and if Heeseung catches up to you, you're not sure how you'll react - whether it'll be pure anger or pure lust.

Either way, you need to get this steam out. 

“Y/N! Get back here right now!” he shouts, pushing past the men who are ogling your figure. 

As you hear his voice, something takes over you. You pull the first guy you see into a kiss, holding onto this jacket as your mouth moves against his.

Heeseung sees red, blood red as he watches you kiss the stranger. It’s reckless behaviour, your lips moving roughly against a guy probably twice your age but, of course, the guy doesn’t mind. He wraps his arms around you to bring you in closer. That gesture shakes Heeseung from his shock coma, his emotions fueling him.

But Heeseung can't stand idly by any longer. With a guttural growl, he yanks the man away from you, his anger propelling him into action. He delivers a punishing punch to the man's face, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground, sprawled across the gravel of the car park.

Heeseung doesn't stop there. He delivers a few more swift kicks to the man's prone form before turning his attention to you. Grabbing your arm with bruised hands, he hauls you towards the car, his grip tight and unforgiving.

"You're so fucking irresponsible," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside him. The veins in his neck bulge with the intensity of his anger, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

“Sorry if I want to have some fun,” you argue back, trying your hardest to release yourself from his firm hold.

As you both approach your car, he opens the door and shoves you in, “And kissing and fucking random guys is fun?” he slams the door behind you once he knows all your limbs are inside the vehicle.

Striding over to the driver's seat, he gets in quickly, locking the doors so you can’t make a quick escape. You don’t even attempt to try and flee, already knowing you’re only going to end up in a game of cat and mouse all night, and in this weather with your dress isn’t fun. 

“I’m 20 years old, nearly 21, I can fuck if I want to,” you shout back, slamming your hand on the backrest to hammer home your point. You are old enough and wise enough to make your own decisions, Heeseung is only there to make sure you don’t end up getting kidnapped or whatever it is your dad thinks will happen to you.

"It's not wanting to fuck that is my problem, it's who you want to fuck," he growls, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You want to slap him, angry that he doesn’t seem to get it, “I don’t get to fuck anyone thanks to you,” you retort back with venom laced in your voice.

His entire body turns to face you, his gaze piercing through you as he asks, "You want to get fucked?"

“Yes! Obviously!”

Heeseung lunges towards you, pressing his lips to yours in a matter of seconds to your answer. At first, you’re confused at what is happening, the unfamiliar feeling of his mouth melting into yours causes your head to thump.

But as he moves you to lay back, flicking the seat to recline all the way back, you find yourself chasing his body with yours, your lips like magnets as they draw themselves back to his. He tastes sweet, not like how you expected, you were presuming it’s the flavour of his vape he swears he doesn’t use.

Shuffling your way up the seat, you spread your legs so he can situate himself neatly in between you, knees resting against the edge of the seat for support, his hands roaming all over your body and his kisses never faltering. 

He was hungry for you, those tiny tastes of your neck served as appetisers before the main meal which was your mouth and tongue. Roughly, he brings one of his palms to cover your throat as squeezes, the consequential parting of your lips as you gasp gives him access to lick into your mouth. The grip on your throat is heavenly, just tight enough to make your brain go fuzzy but not to the point you think you’re in danger.

With a quick roll of his hips, you feel the outline of his cock being pushed onto your core, even through jeans he’s prominent, only building up your anticipation more. He does this a few times, each time the rough edges of his zipper rub your barely covered clit, eliciting a moan from you.

Heeseung's smirk widens at your response, his gaze flickering with desire as he watches the desperation in your eyes. Without hesitation, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he repeats his question, this time with less anger and more longing. "You want to get fucked?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, your desire for him burning hotter than ever before. "Yes, please, Heeseung," you whimper, using your hands to hold his hips against yours as you rut yourself desperately against him, humping his length through his jeans. 

Heeseung almost feels bad for you, clearly, he underestimated how much you needed to seek release. No wonder you were willing to entertain someone like Woobin. He had to make this worth the frustration he has been causing you.

The pressure of Heeseung's hand around your throat tightens, eliciting a gasp from your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, "You sure you want to fuck a guy like me?" he hisses, his voice tinged with both agitation and desire, the intensity of his gaze burning into yours.

Despite the lack of air, you manage to choke out your response, your voice laced with desperation, "Yes, Heeseung, I need you."

A smug smirk plays across Heeseung's lips at your admission, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Oh, I know you need me, Sweetheart," he replies, his tone dripping with confidence. "You're staining my jeans as we speak." His words send a shiver down your spine, a potent mixture of arousal and frustration coursing through you.

But then his question cuts through the haze of desire, forcing you to confront the reality of the situation, "I'm asking if you want to go back to little Woobin now?" he taunts, knowing full well the answer already. He just wants to hear you say it.

With a shake of your head, you release your hold on his hips and begin to unbutton his jeans, determination blazing in your eyes. "No," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, I only want you."

“Thought so,” he kisses you again before releasing your throat, focusing his hand's attention on ridding you of your pants while you work to get his trousers out of the way. He tugs your underwear down, tossing them to his side of the car before lining himself up at your hole.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you try to push him to slip into you, but he keeps his hips rigid, only making you look more desperate for him. He taps your clit with the head of his cock, each time it slaps down, he echoes it with a tut.

“You don’t even know if I’ll fit,” his voice whispering in your ear as he licks the shell of it, “All those preppy rich boy cocks aren’t anything like mine,” he takes your wrist in his hand and guides you to feel his length as it sits neatly in your folds, “See?”

Whining, you pout, knowing he’s just teasing you for badness, “I promise I can handle it,” you say lowly, pumping his cock between your cunt and hand. The motion makes Heeseung hiss in pleasure, the feeling of his cock trapped only adding to his anticipation of being inside you.

He moves in for a chaste kiss on your lips, his touch soft despite the intense need between you, "I'll go slow," he tells you, his words a balm in the midst of the intense moment. Even in the heat of passion, Heeseung is driven by his instinct to protect you.

With one swift movement, he slides into your heat slowly, letting you stretch around him. Surprisingly to both of you, your pussy is accommodating him perfectly, the stretch a little painful but not unbearable. He shallowly moves his hips back and forth, watching his cock disappear into you further and further each time until he’s bottoming out and tapping your cervix lightly.

Heeseung isn't wrong when he tells you that no other cock you've had can compare to his. Every curve and ridge of his dick seems perfectly designed to hit every sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an otherworldly sensation, the way he gains traction with each movement, his confidence growing as he senses your comfort and willingness to take more.

"You're so tight, baby girl," he murmurs between kisses.

Lost in the throes of passion, you cling to Heeseung, your bodies moving in perfect synchronisation as you lose yourself in the sensation of him filling you completely. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

Heeseung's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that matches your own. His touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they trace the contours of your skin. The pads of his fingers roughly grab your tit that’s managed to escape your dress, twisting your nipple between his finger and thumb.

Your hands are in a similar position, running along his toned stomach under his shirt, trying to commit it to memory, just in case you never get to do this again. You wish this was happening with zero clothes in the way but the desperation between you both got in the way. 

As the intensity of your desire builds, Heeseung's movements become more urgent, his thrusts growing deeper and more powerful with each passing moment. You can feel the tension coiling within you, the promise of release looming on the horizon like a distant storm.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, Y/N. I won’t last much longer,” he admits, knowing that he’s close to the edge himself.

“Need it, I need you to cum,” you moan loudly, your hand leaving his skin to find your clit, rubbing it vigorously as you try and speed along your orgasm.

Your words drive Heeseung to pound into you faster, willing both of you to come undone together. The car shakes as you both speed up your movements, your hips trying to match his rhythm to create a deeper impact with each buck of his hips.

With a final, desperate thrust, Heeseung drives you both over the edge, sending you spiralling into ecstasy. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under him, the ropes of his cum coating your heat. 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his cock swell and throb inside of you, “Cum with me, Y/N. Please.”

Circling your arms around his shoulders, you hug him close to you as his body shivers, still reeling from the aftermath of his climax. You lay like that for a few minutes, processing everything that just transpired between you both.

“Are you okay?” he asks, holding himself up to face you, one hand wiping your sweaty bangs from your forehead.

Nodding, you shut your eyes, massaging his shoulders lightly as you let bliss take over you, “I feel great,” you smile.

Heeseung grabs your pants from the driver seat and bundles them up, using them as a makeshift cloth to clean you up, spitting on them before running them along your swollen cunt, “We can’t do this ever again,” he says quietly, his breathing starting to regulate again.

“What do you mean?” you lean on your elbows, looking up at him with confusion, “Was it not okay?”

Of course, it was okay, Heeseung thinks your pussy might be the best he’s ever had, but it’s not logical to try and keep this fantasy alive. You were too different, this encounter was fueled by anger and rage between you both, hardly the start of a picture-perfect relationship.

He discards your underwear and pulls his own bottoms up, tucking his softening cock into his boxers and jeans, “It was great, but I’m supposed to protect you, not fuck you,” he says, shuffling back into his seat, starting the car.

“We’ll use protection next time,” you shrug, fixing your seat to sit upright, “It’s no big deal.”

Heeseung sighs, his frustration evident as he starts the car and pulls out onto the road. "You know that's not what I mean, Y/N," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation.

The rest of the drive home is filled with silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Heeseung's thoughts swirl with the fear of losing his job, the guilt of failing to protect you, and the sudden need to be inside you all the time.

“We forget about this, okay?” he asks, eyes flickering to you.

You nod in agreement, but a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips, betraying your true thoughts. Deep down, you know that you won’t forget about it, and this will certainly not be the last time you find yourself fucking Lee Heeseung - You'll make sure of it.

[swiftcry]

Thrift Shops aren't the problem, convienance is.

Woke up last night remembering some post bitching about how thrift shops suck now because they are all full of crappy shein fast fashion garbage and for some reason placing the blame on the shop and saying it has something to do with them being for profit. Which is both illogical and blatantly dosen't understand how thrift shops work. I worked for Savers years ago; I wasn't a sorter but a floor associate. But they made sure we knew how the process worked because people would ask us questions. So lets say you donate a shirt; it gets checked over by the sorters to see if its good enough to go on the sales floor- that is if it has any tears, stains, etc. If it is good enough, it gets a price tag and goes out onto the floor. If it isn't good enough, it either goes in the trash or into the send out bin. Basically items that are not good enough for americans to buy but are still technically wearable get sent off to 3rd world countries as donations. Because in some places a pair of shoes, even a worn pair, is still a pair of shoes. High value items are tagged and at least at savers placed in a special area near the registers. I know that goodwill has like an auction site for their high value items- so they definately send theirs out. But like one time a bridal shop closed and we had like 30 wedding dress samples all in that spot. In order to have enough merchandise, because sometimes donations are slow, savers ships the sorters unsorted pallets of donations from elsewhere to go through. Admittedly I don't remember where those come from. Items usually took a couple days to a week to get from the donation bin to the sales floor.

What does this tell us? Well the obvious actually, everything in the store is donated for the most part by the local population. They aren't picking out the namebrand items and sending them who knows where- in order to make money savers needs to sell those just the same. What this means is that people are donating more fast fashion items then they are donating name brand items. Why? Convienance. Who buys fast fashion items? 2 types of people generally. 1. Poor people who cannot afford name brand clothing who will likely wear the items until they fall apart. 2. Moderately wealthy people who want to be fashionable in the short term or even only want to wear an item once and want the items fast and cheap. They cannot afford the real garments the clothing is based on or cannot be bothered to look for them since SHEIN seemingly has it all and for cheap the number two person is our problem. They buy an excess of cheap clothing bc it is so cheap and after wearing it once or twice donate it all.

in the past this type of person would have purchased long term use clothing from brick and mortar stores or name brand websites; they owned fewer outfits and what they donated was well made and either didn’t fit them or despite being used was well enough made it didn’t matter.

Which is where we get to the other ugly part of a shirts lifespan. So let’s say you buy a shirt on Amazon. You realize you don’t like it- so you return it. In the old days that might have required proving why you don’t want it or going through some hoops. Now it’s easy as a click of a button and you just have to go to your local kohls or staples who deal with everything for you. It’s become wildly convenient- so that where in the past it might have been so inconvenient that you donate the shirt instead. See I work at staples now. I see so many consumerist returns I want to go and live in the woods. Yesterday I had a woman return 10 nearly identical yellow skirts because she wants one of a particular shade. Those 10 skirts go back to the Amazon warehouse where they will be place in a palette and sold and auction; entirely skipping the thrift store level. That shirt you returned will never make it to the thrift shop.

and the name brand stores in order to compete with Amazon follow suit with easy returns- the parent company that owns old navy/banana republic/gap/fabletics literally made its own type of returns service called express returns in order to compete. Staples processes these too so I see them. So much perfectly good clothing gets returned with it. One woman told me she bought it just for a baby shower photo shoot thing and because it’s so easy to return it’s no big deal.

and I’m sure you’ve noticed that name brand items are also being cheaper and less good quality. In some cases that’s because they realized that people will buy crap so they can make crap. In other cases it’s in order to compete. Depends on the brand. fast fashion items notably usually can’t be returned or it’s a hassle but bc they are so cheap, a lot of people don’t care leading to them being in thrift shops.

The presense of fast fashion items in thrift shops is a symptom of a suffering economy that has been pushed to the edge by a “now now now” mindset. And it sucks ass.

[queen-cchaos]

TO THE SISSY GIRL,

You're doing great embracing the girl you wanna become. I'm proud of you! Look at all the work you put into yourself. Maybe you're just getting started and need some help or maybe you've been doing this awhile and need a boost. Either way let's talk girl shit!

So you wanna play with make up! It's exciting, it's fun, it's expensive as fuck. Start off with the cheap shit especially if you only do your face a few times a month, hell I do a super basic face no conture or highlight or anything like that and my face still runs me almost 100$ so practice with the cheap shit! Get good brushes though! Also don't be upset when the make up trend you try doesn't look right the first few times, it takes practice to get a great face of make up. Don't let that discourage you from having fun. Make up is meant to be fun otherwise you couldn't buy everything in a shade of glitter. Also watch tutorials and read how tos! It helps. Never trust a liquid liner those bitches lie.

You know what else lies, women's clothing sizes! It's rare that a store cuts the size the same! It's infuriating and fucking rude lmao so know your measurements by inches/cm however your place measures and still be prepared to fuck up it happens. Thrift or shop by clearance, paying full price is a scam. Also let's not share under garments from our s/o, sister, mother, or roommate without their permission. That's extremely rude! Bras are far too expensive for you to be sneaking. Pick up your own!

For shoes most often you'll want to size up by 2 sizes. That's a little rough guestimate about how to fit into a pair of women's shoes but again women's sizes are wonky and witchery. For myself I can fluctuate between 3 sizes depending on the brand and make of the shoe. Again thrifting is another good possibility for shoe shopping just look into how to clean the shoe to make sure you're not picking up germs.

For your nails if you're that kinda girl like I am! Just be aware that the glue from press on nails can fuck your nails up especially if you're wearing them for a few hours and then popping them off after. Try and find a nail glue remover to help loosen the glue from the natural nail. As for painting your nails be mindful of what type of polish you're using. Some gels need a base coat and a uv light to harden otherwise it'll stay wet and tacky feeling. We don't like that. You also want a mid price nail polish something in the 3-5$ range.

For when you get the urge to purge you have a few options! You can always pack up and put away what you have. Out of sight out of mind. You put a lot of money into your collection and you shouldn't throw it out because you get bad thoughts once in awhile. Another option is donation. Bag everything up and drop it off at a local thrift shop. It can be anonymous if you leave the bags in the donations bin before/after closing. Another option is selling things online, though that takes a lot of mental bandwidth and time. However, just do not throw things out. That's wasteful and you'll eventually come to regret it.

If there's anything else you wanna talk about that'll help you on your sissy journey let me know, we'll talk.

Remember we are striving to advocate for and promote healthy and happy fetish based relationships. Kinks should always be acted out in a safe, sane, and consensual manner. As always the inbox is open for questions, comments, and conversation. Don't hesitate to reach out!

[lastoneout]

A real tip for moving out that saved my ass when I did?

You can get 90% of this stuff from Dollar Tree. Won't be the most high quality but I moved out on my own eight years ago and I STILL HAVE AND USE stuff I bought at Dollar Tree back then.

They have dishes, just about every type of kitchen utensil you can think of, plastic bins that work for organizing just about anything(and can be used as laundry hampers if you don't have one), cleaning supplies, hand soap and other toiletries, plungers, paper towels, aluminum foil, ziplock bags, plastic wrap, tupperware, food, like seriously they are a GODSEND! You can stock your new place with just about everything you need at Dollar Tree. Just make sure to check the expiration date on medication and food before you buy it.

And for stuff that you can't find there, go to Goodwill/A Thrift Store, Yard Sales, and/or Walmart.

Goodwill typically has appliances but make sure to check for flaking teflon before you buy pots/pans, and maybe avoid buying a used toaster just bcs toasters are REALLY hard to clean properly and a new one is honestly not that expensive(I got mine at Walmart for less than $10), but you can get dishes and kettles and eating utensils and stuff like that there no problem. Goodwill will also have curtains and sheets and blankets and towels and rags, they get a lot of other random stuff, you never know till you check, and they have sales every week based on the color of the tag on the items which helps you save even more.

Yard Sales are a mixed bag but are worth checking out, you might find vacuums or nicer appliances there but you know, use your best judgment. If it looks broken it probably is.

YMMV but Food City is good for cheaper groceries and SOME 99-cent stores have food.

Other tips: Idk why a plunger isn't on this list, fr buy a fucking plunger. Honestly, if you spend real money on anything on this list I would suggest it be a plunger, go to Home Depot or Lowe's and buy a proper one, you will probably need it, and not having one when you need one is a nightmare. You also need a mop, a bucket, and a broom, all of which can be bought at Dollar Tree. Rubber gloves are good bcs some cleaning chemicals aren't great for your skin, and sometimes you just don't want to touch gross stuff. You absolutely need a trash bin and trash bags, plastic shopping bags work in a pinch but they are NOT a replacement. I second that mugs are better than cups, you can get both at Goodwill or Dollar Tree, and if you don't want a kettle you can microwave mugs of water for tea, just be careful. If you don't want to buy cups save glass jars when you're done with them, they work fine.

Stores to avoid if you can(I know not everyone can): Target, they have a lot of stuff geared at college students who are moving out but they charge a LOT. I occasionally go there for nice, little things, but I would never suggest buying everything there unless you're loaded. I have read so many horror stories about Dollar General and Family Dollar, and they charge about as much as Walmart so you aren't really saving money. Absolutely check expiration dates on food and medication if you shop at ANY discount/dollar store. Walgreens, CVS, and stores like it are good in a pinch but the convenience upcharge will bite you in the ass so watch out.

DO NOT PICK UP A USED MATTRESS OR COUCH OFF THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. IT'S TEMPTING, AND A LOT OF US HAVE DONE IT, BUT YOU DO NOT WANT TO RISK FLEAS AND LICE AND MOLD AND BED BUGS. IT'S NOT WORTH IT. SAVE YOURSELF AND BUY AN INFLATABLE MATTRESS OR SOMETHING ELSE UNTIL YOU CAN GET A COUCH/MATTRESS FROM SOMEONE YOU TRUST.

Being poor sucks ass, but that list op found is absolutely setting you up to fail. I was broke as shit when I moved out tho and this is what saved me, so I hope it can be of some help.

this is the dumbest set of money saving tips i’ve seen in a hot minute and im genuinely too busy banging my head against the wall to explain why

[icewindandboringhorror]

my “miscellaneous hoard of various shiny things, trinkets, and rocks that I pick up off the ground” is growing... there’s almost not any space for new rocks lol

[raleighliving]

Budget Living Raleigh

Living in any city you’re gonna look at higher costs of living.  Rent, utilities, and insurance all add up before you even factor in groceries.  But just because you’re living in the city doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have nice things.

If you find all your money is being eaten by rent, and your bed is supported by the ground itself, then this article is for you; cause we’re going to talk today about bargain hunting in Raleigh and what to look for when you want a good deal on good furniture.  Maybe I’ll do this again for groceries or other such things but for now we’re just focused on general niceties.

Best part of this is it’s gonna be fairly general too.  Anything I mention here you could probably find or do in any American city or small town since the institutions are fairly ubiquitous.  

If you find yourself lacking furniture, decorations, or just general quality of life enhancers my answer boils down to two main points:  Thrifting and Resale stores.  At times they can seem similar enough but there are fine differences that separate the two using fairly recognizable criteria.

“RL,” I hear you say between fistfuls of knockoff Cheetos and self-loathing, “Of course if you want bargains  you go thrifting! Did you JUST hear about Goodwill recently?”  

Yes, in terms of hot takes this is especially dull but what I can lend to the conversation isn’t about how prices at thrift organizations are cheaper than retailers, how you should support your local thrift organizations, or even the general good they provide to low-income communities; what I’m looking at is knowing what you have and what you can expect to find when visiting.  

Take Goodwill, for instance, since everyone has seen at least one in their life. Outside of their larger outlets where you’ll find more furniture, walk into any Raleigh Goodwill and you’ll have seen all of them.  90% of the floorspace is dedicated to cheap clothes with a backwall full of knickknacks and a small bookshelf.  If you’re lucky, there may even be a sofa or two and some paintings along the wall but most of what you’ll find is cheap clothes.

Now, if that’s what you’re looking for that’s great! However, I’ve grown to have a deep distaste for the homogeneity of local GCF stores.  Customers can donate their clothes, toys, and other items to GCF at any store locations; but those items are shipped to processing and then distributed to other GCFs across the country based on inventory need and sales patterns.  What you see in one donation center/store you’ll likely see in every other with maybe the odd rare find if you’re lucky. 

GCF aside your options for Raleigh include org thrifts, mom and pop stores, and discount thrifts to provide some much needed variety in your day-to-day shopping. Each with their pros and cons, yet all sharing the glorious benefit of providing furniture and clothing for a fraction of the price of bigger brand stores.

Org thrifts (short for organization thrift stores, creative I know) are exactly what they sound like.  Thrifts run by an organization or charity, similar to Goodwill's, with a stated goal of helping others and supporting the organization financially over seeking a profit margin. 

Cause 4 Paws, Raleigh/Durham Rescue mission, and Dorcas thrift stores all provide a wide variety of products while using the store proceeds to help the less fortunate; but with phenomenal prices.  It’s not uncommon for a thrift store run by one of these organizations to have fifty cent books, clothing sold by the pound, and furniture/power tools under the $40 price tag if you’re lucky.  Plus, not to sound like a broken record but, your proceeds go towards good causes like animal adoption and feeding the homeless.  

Most thrifts of this nature are run by religious organizations, so if you’re at odds with supporting that sort of thing you might be more interested in the other two options; but otherwise this type of thrift store typically comes with very few downsides. 

|Image Credit:  Dorcas Thrift on Nextdoor

Of course, one of those other options is the standard mom and pop operation.  Not linked to any specific organization or franchise, these tend to be small businesses run by local families serving a smaller radius.  

Prices as a result tend to be a little higher than your average thrift store since it’s, y’know, a business; and the selection can be a little below average, usually consisting largely of estate sale leftovers, but this also works to their favor.

There’s no central distribution center for these businesses, so what people sell/donate to these stores comes from nearby communities typically.  So if you find one near an upper class area like Honeycutt Rd or Ebeneezer Church Rd, they’ll typically have nice furniture, art, and electronics for thrift store prices. 

There’s not too many of these, but my personal favorite is Fabulous Affordable Treasures in Southwest Raleigh.  A decent assortment of clothes and decorative pieces (and a very relaxing general environment) makes it a positive visit even when I’m just browsing. 

|Image credit:  Affordable Treasures Facebook

Finally there’s Discount thrifts.  They’re not too common, and are usually supported by an organization additionally although not all are, but if you find one check back with them regularly because it’s almost guaranteed to be worth it.

These thrift stores operate by having a degrading price scale; setting prices when the object comes into inventory, and then lowering them based on how long its been with them or the condition it was received in.  

Stores like Habitat for Humanity ReStore and Petersons Consigning Design use this, and typically offer discounts upwards of 60% if you wait long enough.  On top of having equally large selections of product from org thrifts, they offer plenty for the savvy shopper. 

The downside is, the best possible price you can receive for any given product is a gamble.  That sweet leather armchair you have your eye on might be dropped from 40% to 50% in the next two days, but if someone finds the price acceptable where it is then that products gone forever (or at least until something similar winds up in inventory).

|Image Credit:  Petersons Consigning Design website

Regardless of which thrift store you choose though, you’re bound to find a bargain in one eventually if you check back every once in awhile.  I’ve only mentioned a fraction of the stores available in Raleigh, if you find a few favorites of your own and check back regularly, you’re bound to find something you’ll love at a price you couldn’t find anywhere else.

Of course, if you’re looking for more niche deals you could always use programs like Facebook Marketplace or Craigslist for people just looking to get rid of their junk.  They’re easy to use and both are incredibly active for the Raleigh area; but if you’re looking for something a little more...interesting then I’d recommend checking out liquidation stores.

There’s not many of them in Raleigh, but recently this past week a store by the name of Treasure Hunt Liquidation opened up with an interesting premise.  They buy tons of returned and opened merchandise from places like Amazon and sell them to other people on a degrading price scale similar to the thrift stores we mentioned above. 

Fridays the price-per-item is $10, and then day by day it drops till it hits $1 per item on the following Wednesdays (and they close Thursdays for inventory).  large bins full of boxed or repackaged goods line the floor with everything from car parts to 3D printing filaments depending on when you can get there. 

Additionally, you can purchase pallets of goods as well; with some of the more high ticket items ranging from $300 up to $1500; but generally containing some of the more desirable items like bikes and kitchen equipment.  

Overall, the whole experience is like a giant rotating lootbox; you’re never quite sure what you’re gonna get when you go but you’re likely to find something that at least catches your eye, even if it doesn’t come home with you.

|Image Credit:  Treasure Hunt Liquidation facebook group

You can’t find everything you’ll ever need at stores like these, but you’ll definitely be able to find affordable furniture and clothes even on a college student’s budget. Even a few dollars saved can make a huge difference though, so if you get the chance or see a store on the side of the road that catches your eye, be sure to at least stop in and see what they have for sale. 

Or, if you’ve read this and have some books/clothes/toys to donate please consider donating or selling them to your local thrift location.  These secondhand finds can make all the difference in the world to a kid who wouldn’t be able to get them otherwise.   Regardless, hopefully at the very least this article kept you entertained, and I hope everyone reading has a great day!

[goodlookingforagirl]

Oc-tober Day 18: Vintage

I really enjoyed writing this one! It was fun to write the girls (Adelaide, Esther, and Violet) as little kids, and it was also fun to expound on their mother, Janet. Apparently, the concept of “vintage” shopping is pretty modern, so I wasn’t sure how to put it into my story at first. I decided to write about thrift shopping instead, a concept that is much older. I also had a lot of fun researching prices and inflation: in 1966 (when this prompt takes place) $1 was worth almost $10 today. Insane! Thanks to @oc-growth-and-development for making this list!

Day 18: Vintage

“Girls, will you please settle down?” Janet grabbed Adelaide’s arm and put up a warning finger at Esther. “If I see you running around again, I’m going to tell your father.”

    Neither twin saw that as a threat — they had their father wrapped right around their little fingers — but their mom was a different story. The look on her face was enough for both of them to look down at the floor and mutter a reluctant, “Yes, Mommy.”

    From her stroller, Violet pointed at a collection of Depression glass. “Pink!”

    “Yes, it is pink.” Janet held a piece closer to Violet so she could look. “But we don’t need any today. I’m looking for glasses.”

    The twins had recently started drinking from real glasses, and they’d broken most of their collection so far. Janet had stopped by Macy’s to look for replacements, but she couldn’t justify spending eight dollars on a set when the thrift store had glasses for five cents each. She was especially thrifty now that she was pregnant with her fourth, and hopefully last, child. Six mouths to feed meant no more Macy’s for a long time.

    Esther walked up to her, holding a green cut-glass goblet. “You like this one?”

    Janet took the goblet and set it back on the shelf, lest her daughter drop and shatter it. “Yes, I do. But we need regular, clear glasses.”

    “That’s boring,” Esther huffed.

    “Maybe we can get some clear glasses with designs on them. Something elegant.”

    “What’s ‘elegant’ mean?” Esther asked.

    “It means ’refined’.”

    “What’s ‘refined’ mean?”

    Janet was so used to using senior-level vocabulary at work that she often forgot to modify it for her daughters. “It means ‘fancy’, or ‘classy’.”

    “This store isn’t that fancy,” Adelaide said. “Everything’s old.”

    “Well, this is where people take their old things, and then other people buy them.”

    “The stuff here is prettier than the stuff at the regular store,” Esther said. She was still admiring the green goblet.

    “Can we look at the toys?” Adelaide asked, immune to the thrill of thrifting.

    “After we get the glasses, we can look at the toys. You can all get one thing, so long as it’s less than a quarter.” Janet leaned down by the stroller. “You too, Violet.”

    Violet clapped her hands and grinned.

    Janet finally found a set of near-perfect glasses with a little ring of white flowers along the bottom. She loaded them into her shopping basket and maneuvered the stroller with one hand to the toy section. Luke would normally come with her to help with the girls, or he’d keep them at home so she could shop freely, but he was pulling in extra hours at work. He had to, since she would be taking non-paid maternity leave in a few short months. We’ll make it through — we always do, he’d smiled at her, but she could tell he was worried about stretching their dollars again. That was a big reason why this baby would be their last, Lord willing.

    Adelaide ran up to Janet, weilding a paddle ball. “Can I get this?”

    Janet imagined the destruction she might cause with such a toy — Adelaide had already broken several figurines in her short life — but she didn’t want to disappoint her. “Yes, but you can only play with it in the basement or outside.”

    “But why?”

    “Because I said so,” Janet sighed, too exhausted to explain.

    “Can I get this, Mommy?” Esther approached holding a doll-sized comb and mirror. “Chatty Cathy needs her hair brushed.”

    “Yes, that’s fine.”

    Violet was too short to see into the toy bins, so Janet held her up so she could grab something she liked. To Janet’s surprise, Violet grabbed a little Casper the Ghost doll.

    “You want a ghost, Vi?”

    Violet nodded. “He’s a baby.”

    The doll did indeed look like a baby — albeit a very pale one. It shouldn’t have been surprising. Violet adored her baby dolls, and she was excited to have a real, live baby in the house soon. Adelaide and Esther didn’t seem very excited about having a new brother or sister. They had already watched Violet grow from a baby to a toddler, and they weren't very interested in seeing the process again. Janet hoped they’d warm up once they actually met him or her.

    The Casper doll was thirty cents, but Janet decided to give in and let her have it anyways. Violet was already in love with the doll, snuggling it to her cheek, and Janet didn’t have the heart to pry it away. Besides, it was almost Violet’s nap time, and she usually got fussy around this time of day. Maybe the doll would be a comfort.

    She tried to shepherd them all to the checkout, but she was losing patience. “Esther, please watch where you’re going.” Esther was in her own little world, admiring the tiny comb. Janet was afraid she’d wander away, lost in thought.

    Adelaide stole her attention a moment later. “Don’t play with that inside the store, Adelaide.”

    “Mommy, it’s a toy. I’m sposed to play with it.”

    “‘Supposed to play with it’. And not indoors. I already told you that.”

    “You never let us have any fun,” Adelaide whined.

    “I do so, now wipe that look off your face. And Violet, stop chewing on Casper’s foot.”I 

    She got out of the store for just over a dollar, which was a relief. She had planned on going grocery shopping after, but she didn’t think she could handle another shopping trip right now. She’d go later, or she’d ask Luke to go after work. For now, she’d put Violet down for her nap, make the twins go outside and play, and make a strong cup of coffee. If she wasn’t pregnant, she’d make it an Irish coffee.

    “Three more months,” she said to herself. “And then eighteen more years.” A bittersweet thought, but after a car ride of shouting (Adelaide), crying (Violet), and oblivious singing (Esther), it was sounding more sweet than bitter.

[rederiswrites]

Oh I have a question! I only have a very small yard, of which I don’t get much real estate because Mom hoards plants worse than me. But I would love to have a small homestead like your own. So since I have such a small space what would be your essentials for trying to live sustainably and eco friendly?

First, I don’t think there’s any such thing as one concrete list of “essentials”. Thing is, humans specializing is like...part of the definition of civilization, you know? You make yogurt, swap Magda over-creek for eggs. You all make your own sourdough, but Heinrich put in the effort for a really nice big oven, so most of you go to him to bake it. You shear your sheep, take it to Aldreda’s family at the forest’s edge, they clean it and keep a percentage as payment. I digress, but the point is that everyone can experiment and find the things that really speak to them, that work with their space and their schedule and their interests. Maybe they find things that they like well enough to double down on and start sharing and trading with others. That’s where it’s at, to me. Sustainability is a community effort.

But! Some things that can be done in very little space: 

--Quail can be kept in like...a rabbit hutch, and are very simple to keep and quiet so they won’t bother neighbors. You can get eggs even if you don’t have enough space for chickens. Or you can keep like four chickens in a pretty darn small space too.

--Fermenting. Personally, I love it, and all the commitment it takes is enough counter space for a few mason jars, veggies, and salt. There’s a lot of good information online, but you can make a huge range of pickled veggies (curry cauliflower is amazingly good). Or keep a kombucha culture. Or get a crockpot from the thrift store and make your own yogurt, if you eat a lot of yogurt.

--Sprouts. You can buy seeds for sprouting--broccoli is good, radish sprouts are ever so slighly spicy, you can go classic and do mung bean sprouts if you like to cook stir fries or pho. For some reason they sell all sorts of sprouting devices but really you just need a jar with holes punched in the lid. 

--Culinary herbs. If you have a sunny stretch of wall or fence, you could even do one of these:

Herbs in a hanging shoe sorter! I love it.

--Compost. I lied, if anything’s essential, this is. Staying in places where I have to throw away my food waste makes me sadface. In an ideal world, we’d have community composting, and food waste would be collected. But in the meantime, there are a lot of compost tumblers and things meant for small spaces. I don’t know shit about them because I have the luxury of a big ugly bin I just throw stuff in and then don’t think about it until two years later it’s amazing dirt.

Anyway this is already too long but there really are a ton of good options for small spaces. My best advice is to experiment and then go with the ones that catch your interest, and not worry about the fact that you’re not doing everything.

[daybreak-delusion]

Chapter 9

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina.  As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade, she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems.

Series Masterlist

Previous chapter 

I want to say that on Sunday I was totally independent and was totally not missing the presence of a certain golden boy at all, but I’d be lying to myself. It wasn't a complete waste of the day though. I did manage to drive the Bee (my new nickname for the Volkswagen) to the hardware store that I saw yesterday and picked up some essentials for fixing up the house. Blue tape, a bunch of paintbrushes and rollers, a couple of gallons of primer and white paint, drop cloths, this anti-rust spray for the garage, about a million trash bags, and some other items that I had to pre-order. The store had limited options for paint so I had to order some from a manual and it would be coming later this week. I figured I would stick to the yellow/lemon theme that she had going on and picked a shade of light yellow. Since the paint should be arriving in a week I had time to get everything situated. Somehow I managed to shove everything into the Bee and make it home. I mean back to the Lemon House. Back at the house, I placed all of my new equipment on the back porch and then headed to the garage. My task for today was going to be cleaning out the garage. I parked the Bee closer to the house so I could have more space and started to realize the trouble I was in. There was just so much junk and the last thing I wanted to do was find the pests that had made a mess of the place. I decided to change into a more suitable outfit for the deep cleaning I was about to do. After switching my sandals for some sneakers and putting on some leggings I made my way back to the garage with a trash can, recycling bin, and a box of trash bags. It was gonna be a long day. 

The boxes were filled with all kinds of things. There were old suitcases filled with clothes, rusty pans with ancient stains on them, old fashioned jewelry, and a bunch of old photographs that were in good shape. I was really conflicted about what to get rid of and what to keep. I decided to ditch the pans and pots seeing that they were out of shape. I kept the clothes in case there was a thrift store I could donate them too. Most of the stuff could also be given to thrift stores or antique shops, but there was one box underneath this ancient-looking blanket that seemed different from the others. First of all, it was an actual wooden box, not like the cardboard boxes that had held all of the other items. Unfortunately, there was a lock on the box and it wouldn't open. I didn’t want to break it in case I broke something in the box. Then I remembered the bulletin board where I found the car keys. Walking over to it there were a bunch of different labels for different keys, but one of them didn’t have a label. I figured it was my best bet. Thankfully it was a pretty good bet. When I opened it, a disgusting spider the size of one of Grandmother's lemons crawled out and I bolted out of the garage screaming, knocking over a few boxes in the process. It took me a couple of minutes to calm down and I reluctantly walked back into the garage with a baseball bat I found in my hands. I was shaking as I started to open the box again until I was sure the spider had disappeared. In the box were a bunch of misshapen things covered in old linen cloth and unfortunately spiderwebs. Not wanting to be in the pest infested room anymore I decided to take a break and bring the chest on to the porch. It was a lot lighter than I expected and stained my gray shirt with dust. I placed it on the porch and went inside to grab a damp cloth to clean off the dust. Sitting on the porch I cleaned the box and opened it again. The first misshapen item was a gold locket in good condition, I was excited to see what was in the compartment only to find it empty. The next item was a silver ring with a crop of wheat engraved on it. It was a bit bulky for my taste and definitely had belonged to a man at one point. I slipped it onto my thumb and thought it looked nice with the rest of the rings that I had on. Then at the bottom of the box was an old cracked leather journal with yellow pages. On the bottom right-hand corner the name Elenora Stanton was engraved in gold letters. I instantly knew this stuff belonged in a museum or something the date on the first page was from April 1843. 

“Holy shit,” I whispered to myself stroking my hand across the faded ink. The writing was in a small cursive that I could barely make out. It would be easier to read with a magnifying glass. I carefully wrapped the leather-bound book in the white cloth and placed it back into the box. Walking inside I cleared a space for it on the table and set the box down. Thankfully from my knife search when I was making lemonade I got an idea of where everything was in the kitchen and I remembered seeing a magnifying glass in a drawer with a bunch of other random items. I brought it over to the table and opened the old book again. Thank god Mother made me practice writing in cursive or this would have been a nightmare. 

23 April 1843

Dear friend as of today, I am eighteen years of age and now get to embark on the responsibilities of an adult. I had received many good wishes of health and good tidings for my birthday and my dearest younger sister Juliana gifted me my most favored gift, this diary. I was also gifted a new church dress from Mother and Father and Aunt Alice promised to take me into town to buy a new corset. She said that all adult women should own a suitable corset and if I am to live with her and Uncle Harry this summer it would be an absolute necessity for me to own one. Mother wishes I would stay home and help care for my younger siblings, but I find it absurd that she puts the task of looking after them on me. If Mother feels too overwhelmed with her offspring then she should simply just hire a nanny. I pray that whoever she hires will be able to keep her sanity after a week of working with my siblings or perhaps Juliana will have to bear my burdens. No matter I mustn’t worry about my family anymore. I am an adult as of today and now am able to focus on the wishes of my own heart. In all truthfulness, my wishes are few in number, but this summer I hope to make more. Aunt Alice says that Outer Banks is a marvelous island and I count the days until we depart. Nonetheless, I still have time to prepare for my departure, till next time dear friend! 

30 April 1843

Dear friend this week has been excruciating. Father is beginning to go back on his promise to let me live with Aunt Alice this upcoming summer. He is skeptical of the owner of the island being a colored man and all, but Aunt Alice says that to be truly Christian we must see and treat all people as the children of God and that my father is little-minded. I would never speak to Father with such forwardness so to help my case I have been taking on extra tasks and duties around our home. Juliana has been accompanying me in my tasks as she will be taking over my responsibilities as I predicted. She is quite a quick learner and I’m sure she will be able to manage all of my duties when I leave for the summer. Today we- 

The rest of this entry was just explaining all of the chores that Elenora and Juliana had to do on a daily basis. I was incredibly fascinated with the diary and was confused as to why it was in Grandmother's garage? I am interrupted from my thoughts by a buzz coming from my phone on the table. I placed a stray piece of paper where I left off and reached for my phone. Checking my phone I noticed a text from an unknown number. 

U/N: Hey Whitney it’s Sarah! My friends and I are going to the beach tomorrow afternoon! I remember you said your board was coming in tomorrow, but if you don’t have it yet John B has an extra one you could borrow! BTW this is nonnegotiable you are coming! We’ll be by at 1. See ya then!

Oh thank god, I was so scared it was going to be Rose Cameron inviting me over for brunch or something. 

Also, my mom wants to know if you can do brunch sometime.

Great. Oh well, I guess there could be worse things than free food. 

Me: Tell your mother that brunch this Saturday will be fine and I would love to go to the beach with you guys! About the board, I’ll be sure to let you know if I need it or not. 

Sarah: Sounds like a plan and be by your dock at 1

Me: Got it see you then! 

I was excited to finally have plans that didn't involve me having to wear a dress. I just hope that my board would get in before the afternoon, I’d hate to have to be a bother. I eyed the journal and decided to continue reading. What else did I have to do? 

The next few entries were about Elenora’s daily life. Taking care of her siblings, washing the laundry, having tea with her mother’s sewing group, and walking through town with her friends. It was starting to become boring until an entry from June 3rd. 

3 June 1843

Dear friend today is the day! I am finally leaving this simple town and am leaving with Aunt Alice and Uncle Harry to The Outer Banks of North Carolina. My soul has reached happiness beyond my comprehension. All of those days of labor around the house finally served a purpose in my measly life. Now I will be embarking to a new place where hopefully anything can happen. Nonetheless, I will not be staying there without a purpose, I am to work in Uncle Harry’s tailor shop mending minor rips and sewing on buttons and such. Mother and father are still reluctant for me to leave our household, but Aunt Alice is most persuasive especially when her favorite niece is involved. We will leave today at noon and then will stay in a tavern closer to the ferry we will take tomorrow. I am just jittery with excitement, this will be a new area for me to explore and I cannot wait to see where it takes me!  Till next time dear friend!

It was so strange that this lady, Elenora, was so excited to come to Outer Banks, and just two days ago this was the last place I wanted to be. Maybe I was being a bit ungrateful, maybe this place had more to offer than it seemed. I was absolutely fascinated with the diary, but for real why did Grandmother have it? Maybe she bought it in an auction or it was a gift or something. Looking at my phone for the time I realize it’s a quarter past 1 and I still need to clean out the rest of the garage. Sighing, I closed the diary with a makeshift bookmark and left the house. Bagging up the clothes took the longest, but with the music playing, I didn’t really mind it that much. I had also gotten used to the heat, kind of, so it wasn't completely unbearable. After cleaning everything out and dusting some of the hard to reach corners I decided to power wash the garage. It was disgusting, but it had to be done. The garage was still wet so I decided to bring the remaining boxes to the porch. I was definitely done cleaning for the night and needed some relaxation time. So I cooked up some pasta and steamed vegetables and sat down for dinner. As I was eating my lonely feelings were coming back to me. I was craving company and turned to the diary for something to do. 

10 June 1843 

Dear friend, I have been staying with Aunt Alice and Uncle Harry for a week now and it has been a thrilling experience. On the ferry ride to the island Uncle Harry let us sit on the top deck and it was exhilarating leaning over the edge to see the water. The shop that Uncle Harry owns is the only tailor shop on the island so they are always busy. We stay in the apartment space above the shop and one of the windows in the parlor gives the most breathtaking view of the ocean. It is so vast and wide that I feel as if I am a small button on a white collared shirt. The apartment is quaint, but I have my very own quarters! There is so much space that I felt quite foolish when I only had my small bag to fill up the drawers. However, Aunt Alice says that if customers are satisfied with their work they sometimes pay extra and that I can keep the excess money for myself! Me owning my own money! It will truly be thrilling I know it. I pray that my skills will be adequate for the shop and that I will exceed my skills. There is still more work to be done, so until next time dear friend! 

19 June 1843

Dear friend, I  thought that my experiences here on this island could not have been better, but I was proven wrong! This week has been most eventful. It all began on Monday the 13th in the tailor shop. Denmark Tanny, the owner of practically the whole island, came into the shop. He was accompanied by his eldest son Robert Tanny and as they were discussing business with Uncle they mentioned the expertise work on the stitching of a new suit and it was my own work! Thankfully Uncle gave me the credit and I had the pleasure to make their acquaintances. They were truly delightful people and invited us to tea that coming Wednesday at their residence at Tannyhill. Their home was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen in my existence. It was a mansion. I felt so quaint in my three-year-old Easter dress compared to the lavish home. The Tanny family was most welcoming and tea went by too fast. The conversation was most interesting, although I did not speak much. They talked of the economy and politics and I was too mature on the subject. However what was most interesting was during the conversation I prayed my mind was not presuming it, but Robert kept looking in my direction. Looking back on the occasion I should not be assuming such things, but one cannot help themselves when the presence of an attractive male is in the room. When he smiles I feel nothing, but sunshine and complete bliss. The feeling magnifies when he smiles in my direction. I was anticipating our next meeting, however, Mr. Tanny did not come into Uncle’s shop for the rest of the week. Not all hope was lost however because today after our church services Robert Tanny asked to accompany me on my walk home. I almost fainted with excitement, however, I kept up my studious facade and accepted. On the pathway home, we talked of nature and the ocean. To my disappointment we arrived at the shop rather quickly however, Robert promised to take me to the beach to search for shells so that I may decorate my quarters. I am counting the second until this Thursday comes along. Until next time dear friend! 

I wanted to keep reading, but I noticed it was past midnight and I still had a lot to do tomorrow. JJ would be by and I had a list of things for him to get done. I also needed to get enough rest if I was going to go surfing and I didn’t want to be the one lagging behind. Elenora’s diary was just gonna have to wait. As I fell asleep I tried to imagine myself in Elenoras place, wonderstruck about Outer Banks, and starting a relationship with a true gentleman. Oh, how things have changed. Still, the name Tanny sounded really familiar to me, especially their house, Tannyhill. This all did take place on Outer Banks, so maybe some of the places Elenora was talking about still exist. I would have to save it for another day because for now, I needed as much beauty sleep as I could get.

a/n: Hey guys sorry I haven’t updated in a while I am on vacation and have been going through a bit of writers block. But I am revived and am so excited to finish this story. Also like PLOT TWIST can’t wait for you guys to read what’s next! I’m still on vacation so I’ll try to update when I can.

[myimperfect0wastejourney]

Use what you have before buying new!

I see in a lot of groups I'm a part of that people want to replace everything they can for a more eco-friendly version as soon as they hop onto the low/zero waste train. Or they think they need specific products to be low/zero waste (silicone sandwich bags, Mason jars, glass/metal containers, bamboo toothbrush, etc.)

I have a bin in the basement full of plastic containers, cups, bowls, etc. from when I lived in a dorm and that I plan to use again when I get my own place. I have a stash of toothpaste tubes bought in bulk, period products from before I got a cup, an unopened plastic toothbrush I found when I was cleaning, a box of barely used Ziploc bags in the pantry. I use plastic jugs for drinks I make because my mom has had them for almost 30 years. You get the idea.

So yeah I am going to have plastic products in my house and use non-sustainable products because getting rid of them for special zero waste products or to just feel better about myself for not having them around is NOT being sustainable or eco-friendly. Use what you have, whether it lasts you a week or 30 years, before buying new. If you don't want it or know you won't use it (like the period products I have), donate or give to friends/family who will use it. And when you go to replace things, try thrifting or upcycling first! I have some tees and a pair of sweats that will be turned into rags instead of buying new rags from a zero/low waste store. Will they look as cute and cool and professionally made? Definitely not. But does it really matter? Not at all.

Some places to donate to: pet shelters (seriously, they need more than just typical pet products), women's shelters, your local library (mine takes donations, yours might too!), food pantries, schools/daycares/parent groups, put things up as free on FB marketplace, a local yard sale page, or a crafting group

[erintoknow]

Little Plastic Woman

it’s been 85 degrees here the last couple of days. hopefully this is coherent

fallen hero fanfiction; chargestep ~2.2k words

also thanks to @frozenabattoir for a certain suggestion earlier this week.

Before your Debut:

        You’ve been trying to put this off for a while, but this trip doesn’t have to be a disaster. In fact, you can still turn this towards your advantage.

        Any insider intel you could collect on the Rangers now would only tilt the odds in your favor when the time for your rebirth finally arrived. Second rebirth? Re-re-rebirth?

      No. Stop it. Don’t get distracted by semantics.

        Focus on Ortega instead, walking next to you, Excitedly guiding you down Main street. She’s in casual clothes again, a light blue training jacket over a deeper blue tank-top with grey shorts. As the day heats up, the jacket slides further down her back, exposes the tanned curve of shoulders, her arms–

        No. Stop it. Don’t get distracted by aesthetics.

        “Oh, hey!” Ortega tugs at your arm and you reflexively yank it back. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to check this place out.” Ortega’s pointing a thumb at the building you just walked past. A Neon sign stuck in the window reads ViVi’s in hot pink letters.

        “What is it?” You ask, careful not let your facial expression change.

        Ortega rubs the back of her neck, “Just this thrift shop I keep hearing about. All sorts of odds and ends.” She smiles at you, pulling you inside behind her with a genuine enthusiasm stronger than any grip she could have used.

        You hunch your shoulders as you shut the door behind you. The interior of the store is dimly lit and the shelves closely packed together. Claustrophobic. Maybe reminds you a little too much of another place you’d rather not think about. How do you want to play this? You’ve been here as Jane once or twice when hunting down some specialty request items to speed along Dr. Mortum’s work. What are the odds Ortega would pick the same place?

        Being here in person rather then as Jane… It’s like you’ve walked into a dream. New and familiar, just slightly off in a way you can’t quite articulate. Difference in the build of your bodies? It’s unsettling, whatever it is.

        Ortega raises an eyebrow at you as you hesitate. Do you look uncomfortable? Well, you’re always uncomfortable in new places, so that’s not suspicious, right? “You looking for something in particular?” I ask.

        “Not really,” There’s that sly grin again. “Just been hoping to scope the place out.”

        You wave a hand, shooing her away. “Well, then go… scope it out I guess.” She’s not as subtle as she thinks she is. She’s on Ranger business. But to what end? Is there more to ViVi’s then you had picked up on as Jane? Might as well let her sniff around, maybe you’ll learn something that Jane can put to use.

        You take a different aisle from Ortega. Put some space between the two of you so you can think properly. Once, in another life, you’d have to restrain yourself not to follow in Ortega’s shadow. Laugh at her dumb jokes just a little too long. Go out of your way to find something she’d like. 

        You pull a pack of socks out of a bin. Little blue lightning bolts are stitched just below the hem. Does she still find this kind of thing funny? It’s been so long since you’ve ‘been’ Ariadne Becker, you’re not sure you know how to anymore. You don’t want to think about the past. Just let it fade. She’s your enemy, not your crush. You put the socks back.

        You wonder who Ortega is dating now. There’s always somebody in her sights. 

        “Ari!” Ortega calls and you jump an inch, almost knocking over the bin of socks. “Ari, over here, check these out.”

        She’s smiling. Like that.

        Oh no.

        This can’t be good.

        “..do I even want to know, Ortega?” With some trepidation you navigate your way through the aisles to her. It’s a shelf of kitsch, the kind of bargain-bin junk tourists get suckered into buying to prove they didn’t just stay at home for a week.

        Ortega thrusts something small and plastic into your hands. You bring it up to your face to inspect it. You purse your lips, unimpressed. “This garbage still exists?” It’s a small plastic figurine in the shape of your old Sidestep get-up. The bust is bigger than the real life counterpart.

        Ortega tsks at you. “Ariadne! It’s not garbage! It’s–“ You wait for her to think of something. “Well, okay, maybe these ones are. Look at that paint job. It’s not even on model.”

        You shoot her a look. “What are you, an expert?”

        You frown at the little plastic woman. What would she think of you now? 

Your Debut:

        You stomp through the the open double-doors. You are doing this. This is really happening. You’re going to trash the exhibit and the Rangers alike. You aren’t going to be a victim anymore. No more nightmares, no more running, no more living every moment in fear. You are the one in control now. 

        Time to jump.

        It’s hard to breathe, like a bad smog day, pushing through the fear and panicked thoughts as you scan the reception room. The Rat King curls around you, chittering in rhythm with the song running through your head. …Is it learning to mimic your own mental wall? It doesn’t matter. It’s just as much a tool as you are. Whatever makes it happy.

        Kick over the punch table. A woman screams, clinging to her date as red stains her white ballgown. Everyone backs away from you.

        They’re scared.

        Scared of you.

       It’s exhilarating.

        It’s terrifying.

        You hate that you love this.

        You take a breath, bracing yourself. You’ve got to get these people out of here. Before something happens– before you happen to them. You reach and the Rat King reaches with you, swooping up scattered panicking thoughts into a cacophony, you hold the notes and stretch them to silence. “Out!” You encompass the room with an arm and then thrust a finger at the open door, adding a mental push to your command. One by one by twos by threes, the reception hall empties out, little twangs of fear and panic going ‘sproing’ under your grip.

        You don’t let go, don’t take a breath, until the room is almost empty. Finally. Now you can get to work. On your way out of the reception you make a point to kick the cake over. Bits of frosting stick to the sole of your boot.

        You can sense a few stragglers scattered through the building. As long as they don’t get in your way, you don’t need to worry about them. The exhibit hall is easy to find. It wasn’t even half an hour ago you were here as Jane. Talking with Ortega. About you.

        No. Stop it. Don’t get distracted.

        The real goal here is wiping out yourself, but you can’t give the game away before it even starts. And anyway, this hall is grotesque. A monument to the dead. Just let them rest already. What ones that aren’t dead in body are dead in soul.

        You don’t want to think about which one you are.

        No! Stop it! Don’t get distracted.

        If being Ariadne and Jane visiting the same place is disorienting, tracing Jane’s steps now, inside your new skin feels like something else entirely. Liberating. Giving yourself permission. Break the glass, kick over dioramas. Send out the Nanovores to swallow mannequins whole. Bend the plaques, tear down the signs.

        Sidestep is the last one you touch. You know it’s just a mannequin under the mask but you feel like she’s judging you. For proving everyone right. For proving how wild and dangerous and terrible your kind are. She can’t understand, not yet. It doesn’t matter that she would be right. Everything you are is a crime to them, they would have never let you be.

        It doesn’t matter what Ariadne Becker would have thought, she’s dead. You’re just the ghost come to collect her due.

        You grab Sidestep off her stand, holding her up by the neck and squeezing until the head pops off and rolls away. The Nanovores take care of the rest.

        Whatever it takes to get your revenge; whatever it takes to make the nightmares stop. You’re going straight to hell anyway, might as well drag the rest of them down screaming with you.

The year after:

        You toss your headphones onto the counter and unclasp the broach of your shawl, draping it over the back of the couch before falling onto the cushions face first. “God, I’m so fucking exhausted. Herald makes me feel old.”

        “When did you start cursing so much?” Ortega asks from behind you. It sounds like she’s in the kitchen. 

        “I’m an adult, I can do what I want, mom. Fuck off.” You try to put an edge in your voice, try to sound more bad-ass then petulant.

        Julia laughs. “No dessert for you tonight.”

        “Oh yeah?” You turn over, stare up at the ceiling. “Just try and stop me then.”

        “Mm… I can think of a few ways. It wouldn’t even be hard… that part comes later.”

        You can feel the heat in your ears. “And when you did you start playing dirty like this?”

        “Oh, I’ve always played dirty, Ari.” The purr in Julia’s voice makes you squirm. You can hear her shuffle about the kitchen, the sound of water from the sink faucet. “Do me a favor? There’s some candles in the hallway closet, can you grab the pack?”

        You roll off the couch, and stand up, stretching your arms. “Well aren’t we getting fancy today. I didn’t realize this was going to be that kind of dinner.”

        “Who says the candles are for the dinner?”

        “What do you–? Hrm.” You bite your tongue as an image occurs to you. You don’t have a comeback for that one.

        Julia laughs as you open the closet door. Where are the…? There. Candles, bottom shelf. As you reach in to grab the pack something catches your eye further back and you push aside a cardboard box to see what it is. “Ortega…?” You call out.

        “Did you find the candles?”

        “Why do you have a bunch of… action figures in here?”

        There’s silence from the kitchen and then Julia answers back, embarrassed. “Found the collection did you?”

        You turn over one of the figures in your hand, rub your thumb against the plastic base. “Have you been… holding on to these?”

        “Things got a little… strange after we lost you and Themmy.”

        “Strange.” You repeat, your voice flat.

        “It’s not like we had that much to remember you by…” You can hear Julia’s footsteps. “I did have a few photos, but they all got torched when the apartment was bombed.” She’s standing behind you, and you let her pull you into a hug even as you continue staring at the Sidestep figurine. “Nowadays I just keep picking them up out of habit.”

        “You know I hated these things.” Downside of an economic free zone. What were you going to do, sue the manufacturer for violating the right-to-privacy act? Hah.

        “Why do you think I put them in the back of my closet?”

        Julia’s affection is like a vise, a pressure painful to the bone even as it holds you together. Every instinct in your head is yelling at you to push her away, to put distance between you. You turn the figurine over in your hands, guilt seeping in like bloodstains.

        You don’t deserve to be here, lying to Ortega just by existing. Sidestep wouldn’t do this to her best friend. “Look at this, look at the chest on that woman,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “Makes me feel inadequate every time.”

        Julia laughs, running a hand up your side. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she says, cupping your breast. “I think the real thing is plenty adequate enough for me.”

        “J-julia!!” You push free of her embrace, dropping the figurine on the floor. Your face is beet-red, you just know it is. Still, you can’t stop the panicked smile on your face even as you try your best to look cross with her. “Wow, somebody’s bold today.”

        Julia smiles at you, bright, genuine. She’d be better off if you ended whatever this was between you. She thinks she can save you, but that’s not possible. You’ll just drag her down with you.

        “What till you see the cake.” Julia picks up the figure you dropped, careful to hold it by the base.

        “Cake?”  You eye Julia, side-tracked again. “What cake?”

        “You’ll see.” There’s that smug, tight-lipped smile again. “Trade you for a candle?”

        “Huh? Oh,” You swap the pack of candles on the shelf for the Sidestep figurine in Julia’s hands. “What’s this about cake?”

        “Relax, won’t you?”Julia reaches with her free hand to grab your own. “Close your eyes.” She commands.

        “…why.” What’s gotten into her today? What’s this all about?

        “Oh, just do it Ari.”

        You sigh theatrically, “Fine, fine.”

        You both stand there. Julia says, a little more harshly now. “I mean actually close them Ari.”

        “Fuck.”

        Julia laughs, pulling you after her. “It’s okay, you can trust me.”

       “I don’t know...”

       “Then trust the me that trusts you.” 

        Your eyes are closed but you roll them anyway. “You really shouldn’t.” You say, only half joking. You squeeze Julia’s hand. 

[rottenappleheart]

Let me tell you about my houseplants!

Peperomia! The first plant I successfully kept alive, back in my basement apartment, after having friends buy me multiple plants "to symbolize our friendship" and watching them die, LOL. I almost gave up on the peperomia, too. "What do you want?" I would wail. As it turned out: just slightly more water, and some time. (Alternatively: I had purchased little kodama figures and wedged them in the dirt around the plant.) When I was packing everything up to drive across the country, I had to reserve a space in the car where it could sit upright with its leaves un-squished. It's been doing so well that I've started having to crop it (!!!)  If you are thinking about houseplants and are terrified of your own capacity for death, try one of these sturdy little (pet-safe) suckers.

M'lady Calathea! I have to say that I have almost romantic feelings about this plant. She is so gorgeous. She is so queenly. Looking at her rich colors against the dark wood just gives my heart a glow. I will be devastated if she does not like living with me. (Update: I bought Calathea's pale-leafed daughter to hang out in my bedroom windowsill!)

Maidenhair Fern (and mystery fern)! I wanted a fern so badly, and spent months waiting for the local garden shops to get a cat-safe variety in stock. I am not sure what this terribly soft baby wants yet, but I put it in a teacup and gave it a ceramic ladybug friend (in keeping with the kodama thesis) and will hope for the best. (Mystery Fern had been on my porch and hating every second - I’m giving it a reprieve from the August sun.)

The Hoya! I have no excuse. I was waiting at the nursery for the gardeners to finish potting the young miss calathea for me, saw this, and went "oh no I need her." She is also on the windowsill now!

English Ivy & Mystery Ivy! Technically I shouldn't have these because they're not cat-safe. I took a gamble with the thought process that 1) Story has never bothered any plant of mine or my roommates, and 2) they'll be hanging up somewhere out of reach anyway. Aren't they lovely? Mystery Ivy came from Craigslist fully grown, so I can't take credit for its abundance, but the little one I have been carefully coaxing to overspill its pot.

Curly Spider Plants (x2)! "I can just give you babies from my spider plant," my roommate said, but I declined, because I had been made aware of ~curly~ varieties. Then, like the maidenhair fern, had to wait for a while until a local shop had them. Then had to figure out how to hang them. The lady at the garden shop was so enthusiastic about helping me try out hangers and pots that would fit said hangers. They are a pain in the ass to water, but here's the good news: apparently, "mild neglect" will make them curlier. I, uh, anticipate a lot of curls. I know myself. They spent three weeks hanging from a shower rod before I decided they should live on my bedroom walls, where I can pretend I am in a jungle.

Aglaonema! (You can also call it a Chinese Evergreen, but I like the weird gargling Gollumesque sound.) Technically I shouldn't have this one either (not cat-safe), but I got it for free at work, and it lives way up high on a bathroom shelf beside my Very Grown-Up Bin of Guest Toiletries. What can I say, it lived for a year in an office under fluorescent light with weekly watering. I figured it couldn't do any worse in my care. 

Marble Queen Pothos! Someone was giving these babies away on Craigslist, and I rationalized (again) "not safe for cat" vs. "lives way up high on top of bookshelf." The seller said never to let them dry out... which I didn't know how to react to, as she handed them to me in a dust-dry tub... and per Google, they're fine drying out between waterings. In any case, I tucked two sprigs into a $0.99 pot from a thrift store, soaked 'em, and let them hang out in the window for a day before moving them to the top of the tower of books, where their vines shall hang down like Rapunzel's hair. 

Aluminum Plants! (The green ones beside the fabric yellow and blue flowers) I need to repot these. They're wedged in too tight and can't really be watered without water going everywhere. But they are charming and supposedly pretty hardy. Haven't found a permanent location for them yet.

Not pictured because of Tumblr’s image limit and my lack of planning: the English Ivy, the aquamarine pilea in the mushroom pot, the succulents on the bathroom window, the young peperomia I bought to give to a friend, and the porch plants.

This is already too long, so the rest is behind the cut.

So, plants have become my new vice. I got used to living with the boys and their jungle of greenery. When they moved out, I started trawling Craigslist for any cheap plants I could find. Then just outright buying them from the nursery. There was a weird period right after I moved into the new place where I HAD plenty of plants, but they were all being stored in the shower for safekeeping and humidity... so I would look around, see nothing green, and impulse-buy even MORE plants, because my sense of object permanence is in retrograde.

I have now a Sufficient Quantity of green about me, and it is well with my soul.

Of course, now I just have the ITCH. I took a friend to the nursery last week just to show her how pleasing to the eye houseplants were. She was conscious of flowers, but not the magnificent green variety of things one can just... keep, indoors, forever. She was startled and delighted. We took notes on which ones she liked best, to look up their care requirements.

I want to buy everyone a houseplant.

[larpgourmet]

The Essential LARP Cooking Camp Gear List

Figuring out what to bring to game is always stress inducing. I have packing lists for my packing lists just to make sure I don’t miss anything (it doesn’t help that I drive four hours to get to my game. Forgetting something means I’m SOL all weekend, unless I feel like stopping by a Walmart to pickup whatever I left at home.) 

If you’re a new LARPer, this can be doubly stressful. You may not even know where to begin to pack for what you need. I’m pretty focused on only food needs on this blog, but to sidetrack for just a moment -- my advice is always to break it down from a meta level first. By that I mean, start with the big picture stuff:

- Camping Gear (tent, sleeping bag, etc.) - Food and Drink - Costume - Weapons - Decorative - Mundane Needs (medicine, first aid kit, hygiene needs) 

Once you have that list together, then you can start listing things by specific, and that’ll help you organize your head a little bit when things start to get crazy. Make a list on a word doc somewhere you can access it all the time, and keep the same list game after game, that way you have it on hand in case you run out of spell slots to think about it the Thursday night before you travel.

My list below will operate similarly, giving kind of a broad list, and then breaking it down, with only a few major items getting specific call-outs.

That said -- back to the food stuff!

If you want to cook at game, you’ll need a handful of things to make this possible. Listed below is a short list of what you’ll need, and what to look for in those items. Some of these were also referenced on the 20 Items under $20 post, found here (https://larpgourmet.tumblr.com/post/186401312414/20-things-under-20-for-eating-at-larp)

- A Decent Cooler Look for one that will easily fit in your car with the rest of your stuff, but has enough room to work with. Also be aware that you’re going to have to move your cooler in and out of your car -- while it’s full of stuff. Too big, and you risk it being exceptionally heavy.

I bought mine eons ago, but I want to say it’s somewhere in the 48 - 50 quart range. I generally want to be able to fit my cold brew coffee, a frozen gallon bottle of water, my food, at least half of my drinks, and my icepacks into the cooler easily.

I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating -- of all of the items to shell a little extra for, this is the one. Good insulation, a tight fitting lid, and well made handles will go a long way to ensuring your food stays cold, and you have a better time maneuvering it. Coolers are also just generally handy things to have around, even when you’re not LARPing, so there’s little chance this purchase will go to waste.

One side note on this -- I think wheels are a bit of a waste when it comes to coolers in a camping setting. The wheels do just about nothing over dirt and sticks, and are barely better than dragging the cooler on it’s edge -- at least in my experience.

- A Sturdy Table If no tables are readily available, OR those tables are wobbly -- pick up a good, sturdy table of your own, and be ready to throw a tablecloth over it. I like 6 foot hard plastic folding tables available at any hardware store. They are generally easy to pack and move, and give you plenty of room to work with.

Prepare to store your plastic bin of stuff, and your cooler underneath the table. The cooler being in the perpetual shade of the tablecloth, and the breeze of the outside means that your ice will melt a bit slower. I’ve managed July games in over 100 degree heat in southern California without needing to make an ice run, just because my cooler is stored under a table with a good tablecloth.

- Camp Stove This is another topic I’ve covered in some detail on this post: https://larpgourmet.tumblr.com/post/186746785742/what-to-look-for-in-a-camp-stove

Long and short -- though there’s many ways to heat up food at game, including campfires and the hope of a decent kitchen on site, I feel like Camp Stoves are the old reliable. They’re safe (you’re not likely to accidentally start a forest fire), easy to use and keep with you, and if you have your own, you’re not waiting in line to use it -- so you can just heat n’ eat at your leisure!

- A Trash Bin Get a collapsible trash container made for camping, and the appropriately sized trash bags. Invest in something big and flat that you can put over the trash bag to keep stuff out, or prepare to take it to a larger trash receptacle every so often.

- Dutch Oven If you’ve never looked at a dutch oven before, it’s basically a big soup pot with a good lid. Generally speaking, dutch ovens are thick walled and made of cast iron -- but for our purposes, any large pot with a decent lid will fit your needs.

I like these, especially if you plan to make any meals for a larger group. Big vats of soup or even cold salads can be served in a dutch oven, and automatically look more interesting as a result. The lid means you can close in your food to keep dust out, and even if you’re not using it to cook directly, you can fill it with water and cook sous vide style.

ProTip: If you get one big enough, you can fit a lot of your other gear inside of it, making it an excellent storage container for packing purposes as well.

- Frying Pan / Skillet / Griddle What we need is a large, flat surface to toast bread, pan fry food, or set stovetop coffee pots on top of to make sure they’re stable. A frying pan or skillet is probably best (as the walls give them a bit more utility -- but a griddle or flat top surface can be great in the long haul, if you don’t mind buying both options!

- Food Prep Items A cutting board, a good knife, bowls to collect items you’ve cut and prepared, and some bowls or covers to keep everything clean while you work. As with the below, this is really a situational need. If you plan to do any food prep actually at game, make sure you consider what you’ll need to bring!

- Servingware Wooden bowls, spoons, charcuterie boards, and other things are great to lay out your food for eating. You only really need these if you plan on serving multiple people, and will need to leave the food somewhere that photographers might find it. Honestly, source as much of this out of thrift stores as you can, big wooden bowls and big wooden spoons are silly cheap there. You can also get some fairly inexpensive slabs of marble and other easy to keep and clean stone from any home improvement store -- more on that in a future post!

- Flatware / Dishes You will want something to eat your food out of that looks good for the photographers! The 20 Items under $20 has a few links for things to look for on this front, but expect to need at least one of each of the basics -- a cup, bowl, plate, fork, knife, and spoon. I’ve tested my way through a lot of the disposables in this arena, and I find them to be both flimsy, and expensive. Set aside the scratch for one decent set that will last, and you’ll be much happier.

- Cleaning Station Here’s where I admit that I don’t do a full soap and water wash most of the time at game. I’m the only one who uses my own stuff, so most of the time I just wipe down my gear to get any food off, dry it, and wait to give it a good cleaning when I get home. Most of my cooking for game is tailored to this idea, meaning that I generally make a lot of things where I won’t leave a lot of food behind, and if I do, it’s in a mason jar where I’m just going to seal the jar and not worry about it.

I also (currently) use real cast iron for my fork, knife, and spoon -- so getting them in soap and water is really just a great way for them to rust. (I’m thinking of switching over to stainless steel. Cast iron has a taste, and I’m not particularly fond... additionally, it’s a HUGE pain to keep care of, especially at game if someone decides to be nice and wash your stuff for you, so I’m just kind of over it.)

If you’re eating anything that will get sticky or sugary, or where you’re leaving a larger amount of food (not just sandwich crumbs), you will want a way to clean it so you don’t get pests. This set should consist of at least a couple of things; a smallish plastic bin for you to catch your soapy water, a sponge, some dish soap, a drying towel, and clean water to rinse your soap off your dishes.

If you’re a knitter at all, consider making knitted towels out of yarn tailor made to the purpose. Knitted towels will always look great, and they dry up a lot of water! They do just take a little longer to dry, so prepare a spot to hang them up with clothespins, if you can! (I’m not a knitter, but my mom makes me knitted stuff all the time.)

- Plastic Bin with a Good Lid The reason I advocate for this is to carry all of your camping gear in one place, and make sure it stays clean and pest free until you can use it. Get all your stuff first, then decide what size you need -- but one of these goes a long way toward good organization, and ease of moving your stuff!

- Sundries This can be any sort of smaller items that I just catch all into one category. My current list for this is: Matches Paper towels First aid kit Propane Camp lantern Apron (to keep your costume clean) Spare water Trivets (if you’re going to have any hot pans on site)

If you’re worried about forgetting something, set your setup up at home, and mock going through everything. Think about what you’ll need to do for all of your meals, and make sure you have everything you need to that end.

Plan for emergencies! Plan for spills, plan to get cut, or burned on your stove! Make sure everything you need is close by (in your plastic bin) when you’re actually on site, so you always know how to find your stuff if something comes up.

[vinylexams]

INTERVIEW with Brian Cook of SUMAC, Russian Circles, Botch, These Arms are Snakes, and Roy 

Brian Cook of the MANY gnarly bands listed above took time to answer a bunch of questions that had been burning a hole in my mind for years earlier today. Did you know that aside from playing bass in some of the heaviest bands currently in existence, Brian is also an avid record collector and he also runs a very similar page where he posts all of his records and writes up a bit of history and personal context with each one? A man after my own heart! I’ve dropped a link to his Tumblr below and you’d be a fool not to go check it out and follow his work there.

https://bubblesandgutz.tumblr.com⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I really appreciated having a chance to talk to a very talented musician who also places a LOT of importance on physical medium and the recording process. All too often I get submissions from bands who either don’t know the in’s and out’s of the vinyl format or they took a lot of shortcuts and deprive their art a chance to really shine in the ways that vinyl allows. I picked Brian’s brain about his approach to creation of physical musical media as well as his history as a collector (and even tried to convince him to get These Arms are Snakes play my big gay wedding reception!). Thanks for taking the time to tell your story to us, Brian!

You've been a member of several incredible bands over the past few decades (Botch, Sumac, Russian Circles, These Arms Are Snakes), all of which have released pretty much everything they've recorded on vinyl. How important is the vinyl medium for you as a musician and creator?

Thanks for the kind words. It's really important to me for my music to have some sort of physical format. I realize that mode of thinking might seem sort of old school or outdated, but i've always been enamored by music as a kind of historical artifact. When I was younger, that meant it was important for me to have an actual Dead Kennedys cassette as opposed to a dubbed version from my friend. It was like the difference between owning a painting versus owning a xerox of a painting. When I became a musician, it was a sign of validation. By having a record with my name on it, I had created something that would potentially outlive me. And now in the digital age we've convinced ourselves that everything lives forever on the internet, but it's not true. Myspace just lost all their music. I've written for a lot of online music outlets that have closed shop or simply deleted old posts. Meanwhile, I have a trunk full of old zines that outlived the supposed permanence of blogs. So while the digital age is great for convenience and scope, creating a physical recording is really the more reliable way to make sure something exists for more than five to ten years, or however long it takes for the newest technological fad to become obsolete. Vinyl seems to be the longest lasting format, so it's my preferred medium. But if my music exists on tape or CD, that's fine too. 

Do you approach your recording and production processes with specific formats like vinyl in mind? If so, what do you do differently? Absolutely. The main concern is that we're dealing with the time constraints of vinyl. For bands like Russian Circles and SUMAC who have really long songs, it means we have to be careful how we sequence our records because we can easily exceed the 22-minutes-per-side rule. We've also been told by pressing plants that it's better to have long drones in the middle of an album side than at the beginning or end because there tends to be more surface noise at the beginning of a side and more warble at the end, and drones don't do much to mask these imperfections. But while one can complain about the limitations of vinyl, there are also issues with digital formats that can alter the way an album is put together. For example, the digital version of Empros has a longer drone at the end of "Batu" than the LP version, partially because of vinyl's limitations, but also because digital outlets like iTunes don't recognize records with long songs as full albums unless at least one track is longer than ten minutes. So we stretched it out on the digital version so that we'd be compensated appropriately for our work, but condensed it on vinyl so that we didn't compromise the sound quality.

Of all of the albums you've contributed to, which one stands out to you as the one you feel most connected to?

Probably Geneva by Russian Circles, if I had to pick one. We wrote that record over the span of several months at a house in rural Wisconsin. It was one of those ideal scenarios I'd always dreamed of---hunkering down in some isolated retreat and just immersing ourselves in the writing process. I've never walked away from an album feeling as accomplished as I did with that one. It just felt like we'd achieved something that had previously been out of my level of expertise. I think we've made better records since then, but I don't think I've ever felt as successful in making the sounds in my head translate to the recording. With regards to my other bands, I feel that way about Botch's We Are The Romans, These Arms Are Snakes' Easter, Roy's Killed John Train, and SUMAC's What One Becomes. But Geneva will always hold a special place.

How did you get into vinyl collecting and how does it play a part in your life?

I started buying vinyl around '92 because it was cheap. My first LP was Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet's Savvy Show Stoppers. I bought it for $2. Then I discovered 7"s, which was the dominant format for hardcore and punk bands at the time. Throughout high school, I mainly bought 7"s because i could buy 3 or 4 a week on my allowance. And let's be honest... most hardcore bands in the '90s had better 7"s than full albums. But vinyl was so dead at the time that you could also go to thrift stores and scoop up the entire Creedence Clearwater Revival discography for the cost of one CD. Even new vinyl was cheaper than their CD counterpart back then. So it's a bit of a drag now considering that vinyl is currently the most expensive format, but I still get a thrill from going to record stores, digging through crates, and coming home with a new LP. I can't say I buy that many 7"s anymore though.

What do you think about the relatively recent resurgence of large-scale vinyl production and collection?

It certainly has its advantages and disadvantages. I buy a lot of reissues just so I can have a clean, good-sounding copy, so I appreciate the resurgence in that regard. At the same time, the vinyl boom has made used record shopping a bit more of a drag. I don't know how many copies of Neil Young's Harvest I saw in used bins throughout the '90s and '00s, and then when I finally decided to buy a copy five years ago, it seemed like they'd all been snagged and the reissue was going for $50. When the Zeppelin discography got reissued a few years back, I mentioned wanting a new copy of Physical Graffiti to my husband. He went to our local indie record store in Brooklyn and asked the owner if they carried it and he totally balked at the question. "Why would we carry a reissue when you can buy a used copy of that in any record store for $5?" he said. My husband was like "every used Zeppelin record you carry is beat to shit and goes for at least $20... what the fuck are you even talking about?"

If you had to pare down your entire collection to no more than three albums, which would you keep?

What's the broader context? Like, are those the only three records I can listen to for the rest of my life? Or is it just a matter of only being allowed to own three records? If it's the former, I'd probably choose Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, Miles Davis' In a Silent Way, and a Can album... either Ege Bamyasi or Soon Over Babaluma. Ask me tomorrow and I'd probably list off a different three. If it's the latter... like, if i'm merely holding onto records because the actual artifact means a lot to me but I can still listen to music in some other capacity, then I'd probably go with the His Hero Is Gone / Union of Uranus split LP, Undertow's At Both Ends, and Sticks & Stones Theme Songs For Nothing, just because those seem like a pain in the ass to replace and they're important records to me. I have records that are worth way more money, but I'm not someone who buys records because they're valuable. 

Do you have a "white whale" record you still haven't found?

Not really. For ages I resisted the urge to buy used records online, but I've since relented. The record that finally broke my ordering embargo was Hack's The Rotten World Around Us. They were a band from Adelaide, South Australia in the late '80/ early '90s who sounded like a grungier version of the first couple Swans records. Super heavy and scary. I got turned onto them through a 7" on Alternative Tentacles, but the LP was never available stateside. The first few times I toured Australia i went to every record store I could find in hopes of finding a copy. No one had ever heard of Hack. The singer was in another band called Grong Grong, and members of that band had gone on to be in King Snake Roost, Lubricated Goat, and Tumor Circus (with Jello Biafra on vocals), but no one had heard of them either. In my mind there was this rich underground of Australian noise rock from that time period that was still vital and valid, but the reality is that it was largely ignored and forgotten. I eventually found a copy online and bought it for $20. A year later i found a used copy in Boise. Oh well. I'd love to find Acme's To Reduce The Choir..., or an original copy of Popol Vuh's second album, or the Neu! 7", or the Greenlandic prog band Sume's Sumut album.

Hypothetically how much money would I need to raise to get These Arms Are Snakes to reunite to play my wedding reception? My family will hate it but my partner and I will be very happy, etc.

We still talk about doing some proper "farewell shows" since we bailed on doing them back in 2009/2010. Granted, now they'd be reunion shows, but in our hearts they'd be our proper goodbye. We're putting together a vinyl release of various odds and ends for next year, so maybe that'll give us an excuse to finally book something.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just a strange little outfit with a bow.. I wanted to use the pattern of this fabric in something but I didn’t have time to like.. sew anything, so I just cut a hole in the bedsheet and wore it as a sort of temporary dress lol. (socks are from ebay, everything else is thrifted)

[haileybeehappy]

Grayson Dolan, Coachella

summary . reader upcycles clothes for the twins Coachella outfits

word count . 1579

warnings . none

type . fluffffff (and like .002 angst)

    Grayson was livid but was playing it down for the camera and for Ethan’s feelings. He put so much effort into making his brothers outfit and got an expensive toddler shopping spree as a result. He said that it looked like someone gave a child a credit card and let them buy the outfit. Ethan was basically a child so this was kinda true, so now you were left with the task of buying the boys outfits while they were visiting family. Gray wanted you to come but you decided that staying would be best due to your elevation sickness. You didn’t want to fly across the country for a few days only to end up sick for a week, the boys understood.

    You were at some expensive store where a plain black t-shirt cost almost six hundred dollars. You were shuffling through the stores looking through the half filled racks. The girls behind the counter were looking at you like ‘you won’t be able to pay for any of this’ look that you get all the time when you come into these stores. You would much rather go to a thrift store and find a piece to upcycle than spend two thousand dollars on one outfit. But because of the boys style and budget you decided to come to some big fancy store and buy some new coachella clothes for the preppy brats. Of course they didn’t know so whatever you bought them would be a surprise but a good one unlike what the boys got for each other.

    “Ma’am? Would you like any help?” one of the workers asked.

    “No, I’m okay. I’m just, browsing,” She smiles at you. Somehow making a smile condescending. You find a pair of sunglasses you know Ethan will love so you snag them and bring them to the counter. The lady rings you up and looks at you smugly.

    “That will be two hundred and fifty six dollars ma’am. Will that be in cash or credit?” You pull out three hundred dollar bills from your ‘loui’ wallet that was tucked in your two dollar purse from a store on Melrose and place them on the counter, her face shifts and you smile. She quickly gets you your change and thanks you, saying ‘come again soon,’ while you leave the store with the small matte box in hand.

    You decide that the snobby people aren’t worth it and head to your favorite thrift store on the edge of town. An older couple owns it and you have come to know them very well.

    “Hey beautiful lady,” Margo says as you walk through the doors,

    “Hello Margo,” You smile and walk to the counter. ��Got anything new for me?” she nods and pulls a small basket from her little cabinet.

    “These came in with a big donation and Bill almost set them out for sale,” she says jokingly shaking her head. Inside the small straw basket were multiple pins and buttons. You collected them and displayed them on a three by three foot cork board in your filming room. You picked through the small metal pieces and found a few that you loved. Two little planets with hanging charms one orange red and blue with an astronaut, the next was a little more morbid it was a red skull that looked like it was melting. It kinda reminded you of a candy apple. One of your favorites, a mix between cute and creepy was lilo from lilo and stitch in her traditional dance skirt and headdress but half of her body was a skeleton. And the last three were a set, figures of girls from Hamilton. A present for your best friend who is obsessed with the play and music and everything about Hamilton.

    “Thank you so much margo, I have a few things for you. I’ll bring them in tomorrow,” She smiled.

“Are you sure you don’t want anymore?” You glanced over the selection one more time a pin caught your eye. It was a heart, an anatomically accurate heart. You picked it up and ran your fingers across it. It was perfect for Gray. You nodded.

“All good now,” You smiled and she packed the pins for you in a small box. You slipped the box in your purse and went to explore the store. They had a small mens section but it would make due. You found a pair of camo pants that might fit one of the boys so you plopped that into your small basket. You found a pair of pretty plain red shorts and those went in too. An army green shirt. You worked into the women's section and found a mesh shirt that you could work into a piece. After some more searching you finally found the last piece you would need, from this store at least. A few iron on roses. You paid for your items and headed home. The house was strangely quiet. You grabbed the few items of clothing you needed from the boys closets and moved to the guest house to finish the outfits. You settled in your filming/craft room in the guest house and got to work on the items on hand. You cut the camo pants into short like things, hemming them, cutting some mesh from the shirt and sewing them on the pants, you sewed the legs back on under the mesh. Some fabric was cut off the ends and you left it unhemmed and rough looking. You were proud of the finished look but weren’t sure if the twins would like it. You moved to the shorts which didn’t take longer than ten minutes and then you piled the two outfits into bags. The red shorts paired with a plain white tee and a red fanny pack. Lastly you put both the outfits into boxes and stored them under the table until the boys arrived.

They were finally back from their trip and came home with many expensive shopping bags in hand. You should have known, of course they would go out and buy outfits when they ‘had no time’. You were kind of upset but they didn’t know what you were doing but it still kinda hurt. You of course greeted them and were still happy to see them.

“Babe, where’s the glue gun?”

“In my craft room, why?”

“Ethan broke something and I need to glue it back together,”

“I didn’t break it!” you heard Ethan scream from his room.

“It’s in a box under my work table,” You heard Gray leave the main house and work his way to the guest house. Gray entered your filming room door and began looking for the glue gun. Under your work table there was many bins but only three boxes he opened the first one and in there sat his outfit you made him.

“Babe!” Gray screamed walking through the door two boxes in hand.

“Seriously it’s not that hard…” you looked up from your phone. There he was, two boxes in hand.

“These are really good,”

“Why were you looking through my stuff?”

“Because you told me to.. But babe. These are so good,” He stopped for a second. “Ethan!” You went to snatch the boxes but he held them above his head.

“Are these for us?” He held them up higher as you tried to get them.

“Yeah, they were for coachella but you already got outfits so you don’t need them,” Ethan had come from his room. Gray tossed him the red black box. “No that one is yours,” you told gray, giving up on trying to get the box from him and they switched.

“I would take your outfits over whatever we bought anyday,” Gray said pulling you into a hug.

“But they’re not expensive shit from balenciaga, it a two dollar shirt from the thrift store,” He just rolled his eyes.

“So, I’d rather wear this than a fifty dollar plain white t-shirt,” You backed off in submission and let them do their thing.

They went and got dressed in their new outfits. They walked out and they both looked better than you thought they would.

“Babe, these are amazing,”

“Seriously these are great Y/n,”

“They’re nothing compared to what you guys probably bought,”

“Hey, you need to stop doubting yourself. These are amazing If I walked into some snobby store saw these I wouldn’t think for a second that they were anything else but expensive as hell. Okay?” As much as a child that E could be he could be smart if he wanted to be. You pulled him in for a hug. Gray joined in behind you.

“Thank you guys, it means a lot. I love you both,”

The boys had just posted their pictures of them wearing the outfits that you made for them. They got almost an overwhelming responses of people appreciating their outfits and asking where they got them, and so on and so forth. They had only responded with your instagram handle and nothing else. The fans had not known you and Gray were together, which was really hard to hide since you lived with them and filmed in your shared house. But there was a lot of shipping and suspicion from the fans. This put them over the edge, they were freaking out and you and Gray decided to expose yourselves..

    “What’s up guys? We’re back! And today we have a very special guest…”