#grocery stores are really the only place you can find off brand sodas

[halfricanloveyou]

i live in america. there are no other brands besides corporate brands and brands that are owned by corporate. there are not local alternatives in most stores. i have never in my life seen a locally made soda. i’ve only seen a locally made alcohol and it is only available in a restaurant.

local alternatives also cost more. if you go to a walmart, the most affordable grocery stores, they do not have any local products. if you go to a more expensive grocery store they do! there are 2 local products. they are jam and salsa. there are 5 varieties of jam and 5 of the salsa. it is all only from one local seller. it costs 3 times as much as the other products in the same aisle, which already cost more than they would at a different store.

instead you could buy an off brand soda. it will be cheaper but it will taste bad and it is made by the Walmart corporation which also underpays it’s workers and at some locations treats them horribly.

we can’t buy what is not available and accessible to us. in america we don’t have any other options than what is produced by corporations. spending more on locally made speciality goods weekly is not realistic.

*You should recognize bad practices AND not voluntarily support companies through conducting business (i.e. purchasing luxury products).

[hillbilly---man]

what is your favorite part of a grocery store to organize, and why? i wonder if people who do your job like giving the best spots to their favorite foods or if it’s like, the size of something that makes it more or less a pain in the ass

Ahhh I love this question!

[To clarify my job in case anyone is new here or confused: I sit at a computer in an office and design planograms, the diagrams that grocery stores use to stock their shelves and standardize where items go]

At work, I've got several sections assigned to me (box dinners/mac & cheese, baking needs, Asian, flour/meal/coatings, sugar, pasta sauce, and a whole bunch more). So whenever it's time to redo one of those sections, either as part of a whole store remodel or to cut in a new item... I get to do it.

It's hard to choose a favorite section. I like doing the bottled juice section because there are always things getting removed and added. It's more interesting when I get to change the products! Box dinners are fun too for the same reason.

I also had to create a huge Asian aisle for a store several weeks ago and that was kind of fun.

We had some existing planograms for Asian foods, but nothing nearly as big as what this one particular store was asking for. It was a lot of work (I have to pull the list of all the Asian items from the warehouse, run the sales numbers, pick the products based on high sales and variety, decide where on the shelves the items go, and then send for approval)... But it was fun having that kind of creative control. Most of what I do is finding space for a new flavor of cheez-its so it's a big change.

For similar reasons, I also really like when I get instructed to do one-off special displays. I had to design planograms for a Tampico rack and a new bread aisle recently.

I don't normally get to favor things I like when designing the planograms, sadly. Usually they want certain brands to be in a certain place: the store brand along the right/bottom, the most popular brand often eye level and to the left, premium stuff in the middle and to the top. But every section is a little different. Sometimes, if two items are the same brand and have similar sales, I might give the one I prefer an extra facing though. 😈

[Quick definition: A "facing" is basically an instance of an item on the shelf. For example, if you're looking at the soda aisle and there are two rows of 2 liter orange fanta (which would look like two bottles sitting next to each other, with several lined up behind them) that's two facings]

Sizes are a pain in the ass! If I have a lot of products and a very small section (4 feet is our standard "small" size) then it's so hard fitting them in there. We are supposed to make sure there's at least one full case worth of product on the shelf at a time, which is tough when items are bulky or come in huge cases. This is why sometimes I'll joke that I'm the only person in the world happy about shrinkflation; when these companies make their packaging smaller it makes it easier for me to fit more products in the planogram.

On the flip side, if a planogram is HUGE (24 ft is a big one we have often) and I don't have very many items... It's easier but a different challenge. Sometimes I have to try to find items that would fit there. For a while, we had Yoo-hoo in our juice boxes section because there was so much space and the warehouse quit stocking a bunch of Capri-sun flavors. I guess I can just give everything a ridiculous number of facings, but that's lazy and it looks bad. Plus, if the products don't sell well you run into the problem of them expiring because the stores have to stock too many to fill the shelves.

This got really long lol. You can tell I'm really into this stuff hahaha

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Hey!! Could you make Eddie fall in love with a short, transgender boy who is a highly judged hippie because of his style and calm way of talking? :]

Hi! I'll do my best!

Eddie Munson x Trans!Male Reader

Send me request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: "What about some fluff for Eddie after he's had a long day?"

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

__________________________

Eddie doesn't even need to go into the pharmacy if he's honest. He's not sick. Wayne's not. But Eddie waltzes into the place, by passing the displays of makeup, and sunscreen and ducks behind the slightly higher than chest high aisle of supplements. A few feet behind the aisle, past the condoms, feminine hygiene products, and diapers sits the checkout counter.

And just behind the counter--the stacks of boxes nearly swallowing you whole, and hair following to shoulders--is the real reason Eddie is here. It's ridiculous really. Eddie feels like some school girl, trying to hide his blush and gaze. He picks up a bottle, the pills rattling inside at the action and Eddie watches you grab a box from the pile on the counter next to you and hitch it onto your hip.

The store is relatively empty. A few people are behind Eddie at the pharmacy window to pick up prescriptions but no one's just shopping the aisle. And it doesn't shock Eddie that no one is. It's 3:30 PM on a Tuesday afternoon. Most adults are still not off from work and the schools have just let out. But Eddie is here, not really reading the ingredients of the back of some supplement bottle to see if he can work up the nerve to talk to you.

It's not like it would hard. You're nice, approachable in ways that others may be annoyed by, but you're always thoughtful in your responses. Eddie first noticed you in his second attempt at second year mostly in glances and in passing. The two of you occupied vastly differing social spheres and as much as Eddie fronts about conforming, he needed a social pack that wouldn't shun him. Not satisifed by what he noticed he created his own and it came a particular brand.

Which is not to say that Eddie scared you off or wanted to scare you off, it was just that the pressure of high schools still seemed more important in terms of suriving. But six months ago, in the height of the summer, Eddie ran into this pharmacy for a quick soda and extra bandaids. And that's when he noticed how you smiled gently at everyone and he noticed how much when you spoke, it soothed him and made his heart flutter. He'd since been trying to find any and every reason to come into the store without it seeming excessive.

"I didn't take you as a health conscious being," you laugh. The words are soft and carrying the air of a pause between each of them.

Eddie snaps his head over at you, slightly lost in a different realm of existence. He read Vitamin C and spaced a little trying to think about making it look convincing that he might be overselling the surprise. Eddie laughs, "Folks keep warning me smoking's going to kill me one day so maybe I'm trying to slow it down."

You nod. "Only way to do that for good is to give up the smokes."

Eddie shrugs. "You're probably right."

"We've got nicotine gum on aisle 7. Unfortunately, this is not a grocery store, so no cold turkeys."

It's a terrible pun. You knew that when you made it, but Eddie's grin is bright. It makes your heart flutter and have to be careful that it doesn't flutter too much given the bandages around your chest. Now speaking of chest, you shift the box to your front hoping it helps with the pressure too.

Eddie's snort is fast and hard. "You really should be ashamed of--"

"Do you have to work as slow as you talk? I'd like to check out please."

You nod at the customer behind Eddie. He doesn't look to see who it is out fear he might walk out of here in handcuffs with sore knuckles. "I'll be happy to assist right after I finish with my first customer." It is practiced and measured response from the months that you've been working here.

The being huffs behind Eddie and he risks a quick glimpse over his shoulder--Mrs. Dobrzynski. She's always had a snippy attitude. "I didn't mean to be in the way," Eddie starts. "I'm sorry."

"No," you return evenly. "You have nothing to apologize for. If it's okay, I'll handle her and then back. Feel free to peruse all our wares."

Eddie gives a nod, watching you return to the counter. The checkout only takes a couple of minutes to ring up the handful of makeup items she has and she huffs the entire time as you check her out. Her heels click harshly before she ducks back out into the harsh and bitter winter winds.

Eddie watches you approach, bottle of supplements still in hand that he has no intention of buying at all. But he can't seem to put them back as he watches over you face. It's not as soft as it once was, but just behind that too Eddie feels the edge of excitement. "Did you cut your hair?" he asks.

You smile just a little, hearing the genuineness to his tone and the smile painting his lips helps too. "I did."

"I like it. Makes you look even more handsome." Eddie offers the last part softly. He's noticed. Though he doesn't know a lot. He's noticed the way you've made it clear to those you care to pay attention.

You didn't anticipate Eddie to catch on, but when he utters handsome you think for the first time you're glad you don't have to fully say it. "Thank-thank you."

"Do-" Eddie stops the sentence, kicking the toe of his sneaker into the floor. He looks at you, down a few inches due to the height difference. "Would you like to go out sometime?"

"What-what do you have in mind?" Your voice is softer than normal and Eddie thinks it might be a good sign that you asked about specifics rather than the joyful yes he was anticipating.

"I know the arcade is probably lame, but there and then a movie? Or wherever is going to make you feel the most comfortable."

"No, the arcade and a movie sounds nice. I'd like that." There's the pauses again--the way the sentence falls smoothly from your lips and Eddie's grateful for the sound to ease the thundering of his heart. You can feel the sweat now pooling and you can't tell if it's the binding or the heat of slight embarrassment warming your body.

Eddie smiles. "When are you free?"

"Thursday is my day off. I can meet you at the arcade say 5?"

Eddie would like to pick you up, treat you like a gentleman should, but he nods. "5 sounds good. It's-it's all on me."

"I'm a working man, c'mon. Don't underestimate me," you laugh.

"I don't think I am, actually. Just--want to treat you right," it comes out softly and nowhere as smooth as Eddie would like it to be.

"You do," you return simply. "You already do."

Eddie, as he walks out of the store, fists pumps proud of himself for not making a complete fool out of himself. That is until he catches some laughter and he spins to spot you, work shirt traded in now for a winter coat. A backpack strap is clear over the brown coat. "You didn't see that," Eddie warns.

You hold up your hands. "I didn't see anything. See you Thursday."

"Thursday," he grins. Eddie watches you back out of the spot and start onto the street, chest still filling with pride. He prays that Thursday comes quick.

[bartistic]

Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ���mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

[theblackknightofworcestershire]

Let me tell you a story.

Earlier in the summer, I went to Florida with my friend. We decided to visit a town nearish to where we were staying called Seaside, as we had heard it was a cute place. What I did not know at the time was that Seaside is the place where they filmed The Truman Show. It was a "master-planned community," constructed in the 80s to be the perfect beach town.

Seaside, FL

Seahaven

And yes, it really does look Like That. Not just in their tourist-agency photos, in real life it looks like that. Arguably the irl Seaside is even prettier than movie Seahaven, because the the office buildings where Truman works don't exist; the town is 100% cutesy homes and little shops.

Every single house is pastel with white trim and a white picket fence with the family's name on it in a handwritten font. The streets are paved with red bricks and lined with palmettos, and families bicycle past. The streets are clean, the lawns manicured, the sidewalks pristine.

Soon after we arrive my friend says as we walk, "God I wish I could live in a place like this. Imagine having the money to live in a place like this." I reply, "I don't actually know for me...it's gorgeous don't get me wrong, but there's no grime, you know? Where's the grime? I'd feel uncomfortable. It feels like there's not a dive bar for a hundred miles."

We reach the town center, which is a wide square lined with shops on one side, food trucks on the other. We have a lovely time looking through the shops, though I start feeling kinda weird, and I'm not sure why. Probably the extreme cleanliness of the area is making me feel off-kilter. And the surreal feeling of walking through areas I recognize from The Truman Show only adds to the weirdness.

We go into a clothing store, and it's crowded with people who appear to have stepped out of a Land's End catalog. It sells boring tshirts, shorts, and sundresses in whites and blues, all needlessly expensive. Employees walk through, refolding already-pristine shirts. So perfect. "Anyone buying from here is so rich they can probably smell the poor on us," my friend jokes, "that's why they have so many employees refolding things, it's to fix anything we brush against." "Or even breathe on!" I add.

We continue on to the grocery store where, in the movie, Truman finds Marlon stocking the vending machine and first tells him he suspects his world is wrong. I buy some pasta salad there to eat for lunch (all the cafes are quite expensive), and we find a place to sit and eat. As my friend finishes up her food, I write a postcard to my sister, telling her about my trip overall and my day in Seaside, describing the town as 'vomit-inducingly picturesque.' (It has been weeks since my visit and she still has not received that postcard)

Lunch done, we decide to walk down to the beach and have a swim. And I realize something about the surreal feeling. "Weird question," I say to my friend, "have you seen any non-white people here? Am I imagining that?"

She pauses. "The lady cleaning the bathrooms?" she asks.

"No I mean vacationers. Guests, customers. Other than you, I haven't seen a single one who wasn't white."

"...No. I haven't either."

And now that we see it, we can't unsee it. It's a wealthy area, so I had been expecting it to be pretty white, but the fact that there is not a single nonwhite person who isn't working a service job feels so gross. It's as though the place is somehow still segregated, like we have stepped back in time, but not to the fun, fake, rock-n-roll-and-soda-parlor-nostalgia version of the fifties, but to the real racism-and-repression fifties.

It is so fucking weird and sinister. I feel I have stumbled into another realm. All these people giving us sideeye, riding around on their golf carts in their pristine $45 seaside-branded tshirts, taking pictures of the perfect houses all lined up in perfect rows. A whole town of Meryls wearing lulu lemon.

We walk on. It's hot, and a swim is exactly what we need. Surely they can't ruin the ocean. I myself am extremely excited to swim, because now that we've spent a few hours among the pompous populace, I want to piss in their perfect ocean more than anything in the world.

We walk along behind the beachfront bar patios that line the beach toward the access point, and the ocean looks so blue and inviting. Although the hedge growing between us and the dunes is strangely tall. "Huh," I think. "It's weird that they'd grow it like this, it blocks the view for everyone sitting on the patios."

We arrive at the boardwalk, and there is a man standing there. He says "Hold on! Do you two have a beach access pass?" I look at him in disbelief. It's a public beach, but the sign behind the man says you have to rent a beach chair to use the beach, and it's $35 per person. We glance at each other, turn wordlessly, and head back to town.

I seriously consider trying to sneak onto the beach somehow, because at this point I am very invested in the idea of pissing in their ocean, but I realize that with the tall hedge it would be nigh-impossible.

We went home after that.

So many reviews for Seaside on travel websites mention how they love to visit Seaside because they feel transported, they feel it reflects a "simpler time" or a "peaceful life." It's been weeks and I can't stop thinking about my experience. It really drove home how...complicit people can be in their own ignorance. A lot of people want to live in that perfect bubble, and especially if they have the money, they can maintain that barrier. It reminds me that part of the reason I often have trouble persuading these types of people is because they simply do not want to be persuaded. They're so proud to be the place where The Truman Show was filmed, but I rather doubt they really think about what it means that they live on a movie set, in a surreal dream.

Honestly visiting Seaside was a 10/10 unique experience. I would highly recommend it as a place to go for a couple hours if you're gonna be nearby and want to feel like you've been kidnapped into The Truman Show and/or your brain has been put in an easy bake oven. It's like a zoo for superrich WASPS. We had a really good time loudly making fun of how insane it all was, invading their little paradise with our riffraff energy. Treat it like an excursion into the jungle; you're gonna have to park a half mile away minimum, and bring all your food and water with you so you don't have to buy anything. You don't want to give them any money. They have enough.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, next time I go to the panhandle, I will be going to the nearest free public beach access to Seaside, and I will walk to the Seaside area of the beach, and I will piss in their ocean.

Rewatching Truman Show for the first time in a long time, and the detail that’s stuck with me this time is the set design.

The characters drive modern cars and hock modern products, but it’s all presented with a veneer of 1950s wholesome applecheeked Americana. Truman’s life is presented as an escape for the audience from the drudgery of the modern day, and the aesthetic they’ve chosen for this is the post-war economic boom. This is the simple time, the movie says. This is the good time. Doesn’t the modern day suck? Let’s go back and see our friends from the days when life was good.

And it’s a lie. Truman’s life is a lie, and the image of white picket fenced suburbia they’ve presented is a lie. It’s an elaborate construction to recreate a false memory that’s comfortable for advertisers. The movie is a satire, but it’s also a very blatant statement against the nostalgia for a golden age which never existed. It’s a lie. It doesn’t exist.

I don’t know. I’m spitballing. I’m biased because I despise mid-20th century Americana and I naturally treat it with hostility, but it’s very gratifying to see a movie kind of agree with me.

[fairyoftbz]

sunburnt | s. eric

☀ pairing: pharmacist! eric x fem!reader ☀ word count: 1.4k (i really can't write sth small smh) ☀ genre: fluff, sort of beach!au (?) ☀ tw: sunburns, some swear words here and there ☀ synopsis: after spending an afternoon at the beach, you painfully realised that you got sunburnt. ☀ a/n: I know it's shitty but this is just to express my pain bc I always get sunburnt lmao ☀ requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Getting rid of all the sand in your belongings, you swiftly slid your feet into your flip-flops and walked towards the bar located at the end of the beach. The barista handed you the bottle of soda you asked for and walked away, adjusting the sunglasses perched on your nose as the sun was still shining brightly.

Taking the afternoon off to enjoy some peace away from your bustling life was the best self-care decision you ever made. You kept your destination hidden and turned off your phone as soon as you stepped a foot in the burning sand, wanting the focus to be on yourself only. Work had been restless, and your colleagues had been giving you a hard time, so you wanted to spend some time alone to enjoy the time being, away from stressing at your desk and being in front of the computer screens all day.

The afternoon was pleasant. You had swum in the ocean for a while, drying on the sand until the heat became unbearable and went back in the water. Tiredness took over your body at some point, feeling thirsty and hungry, giving you a good reason to leave, excited to go back home to chill on your balcony instead. In the higher floors of the building you lived in, the air was still salty but fresher, and you preferred this over anything else.

Pausing for a quick second, you uncapped the bottle of soda with a swift flick of the finger before taking long sips, the sparkly feeling refreshing your throat. You sighed in relief when you reached your car, setting your bag and towel inside. But, as you were about to close the trunk, a sharp pain travelled your entire body, shooting from your upper arm to reach the lower part of your back. Confused, you winced and lowered your arm, walking to the side of your car to look at yourself in a window.

Your skin was gleaming bright red, suddenly feeling the uncomfortable pain of a throbbing sunburn. Placing your hand on your shoulder blade, you touched the skin and your eyes widened, feeling it burn under your palm and your skin turning white where you had pressed your fingertips.

With gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, you pushed the trunk down before locking your car despite your discomfort. Finding a pharmacy was the only way to relieve you from his pain because you doubted that the products found at the grocery store would be very efficient.

You quickly entered the first store you found, asking for directions. The man behind the cash register gestured you to the nearest pharmacy, bowing at him before going back in the sweltering heat. The more you moved, the more effort you had to reassemble to keep walking, realising that not only your shoulders were sunburnt, but also the remaining limbs of your body.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” you cursed yourself at the negligence you had for yourself, delicately placing the strap of your purse on your shoulder as you winced again.

It wasn’t the first time that you got this type of ache, you almost got sunburnt every single summer. Though you had tried every sunscreen purchasable in the market, nothing was well enough to shield your skin from the UV rays, no matter how high-protecting and promising the tube of sunscreen was. You shook your head as you walked to the pharmacy, mentally preparing yourself to suffer at every single movement you’ll do for the next few days.

The glass doors of the drugstore slid open, letting the air conditioning welcome you in a fresh embrace. Your skin lightly itched as you neared the never-ending mister a little too close, the simple contact of water against your skin was enough to make you wince. Looking around the shop for a while, much to your dismay, you couldn’t find any after-sun lotion. Replacing a tube on the shelf, you were about to ask for help when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You slightly flinched at the sensitive skin of your neck wrinkling as you turned around, offering a half-smile to the person in front of you. Wearing a white blouse above a white t-shirt and some chino pants hitched up at the end, the man in front of you greeted you with a smile, eyes filled with care and worry as they lingered on your reddened skin.

“Can I help you in any way?” he started, and you nodded, taking your sunglasses off, involuntarily displaying more of your sunburnt face. He hissed empathically at the sight of your red skin, and you sighed before bitterly chuckling.

“I know I should have been more careful, but I can't find a single brand of sunscreen efficient enough to protect my skin. Maybe you have some products that could help me heal it, at least?” the pharmacist nodded as his eyes couldn't leave the redness of your skin, his actions allowing you to see his name on the tag above his blouse pocket: Eric S.

“You need to be cautious, it's bad to ruin your cells and break some skin layers. I have rarely seen such type of sunburnt, it looks like you’re going to have to be patient for it to heal correctly. Uh, okay, let me go check if I have something for you,” he mumbled while detailing your skin, his fingers gently resting on your shoulder to turn you around, observing the reddened skin your clothes allowed to show. His eyes widened for a quick second at the damage, nodding at you before disappearing in the back office, his front pieces of hair flying up as he passed in front of a fan.

You stood there, waiting for him to come back, faking your interest in another product as the fresh air of the pharmacy allowed your body to cool down for a while. You couldn’t do anything with your body, crossing your arms became so hurtful that you had to stay with them dangling on your sides. Fortunately, the pharmacist was quick to come back with a large lotion pot in hand and a cylindrical tube in the other. He got hailed by another waiting customer but was quick to politely redirect him to one of his colleagues, walking back to you with a caring smile painted on his face.

“So, I have this lotion that is aloe vera based, and its benefits are very good for your skin. Not only for sunburns but also in general, if you have dry skin or even acne. It’s very moisturising and anti-inflammatory, and you can apply it as many times throughout the day as you want. You could also apply pure aloe vera taken straight from the branches, but I’m scared that all the local stores have run out of it,” he explained with a smile, walking towards one of the unoccupied cash registers, typing a few things on the screen.

“And the tube? What is it for?” you pointed at the thing, the pharmacist’s eyes not leaving the screen as he turned the tube around, recognising the white and orange packaging of a famous French brand for you to read.

“This is French thermal water, the same one that we diffuse at the entrance”, he said as he gestured to the steam of mist escaping from the machine next to the sliding doors. “It can help you freshen up and cool down your skin when the sunburnt is as consequent as yours. My sister uses it a lot, and it’s efficient according to her. She uses the cream as well, and she wears a bathing suit, it's the best way for the product to sink in well,” you thanked him as you took your wallet out, grabbing your credit card and pressed it against the machine, which emitted a sound at the end of your transaction.

“Don’t hesitate to come back if you need further explanation or anything else. Have a nice day!” your fingers grazed against his as you took the bag from him and walked out of the store, reaching inside the bag once you were on your way back to your car.

However, you stopped in your tracks as some ink coloured your fingertips, finding a post-it note stuck on the inside of the bag. The paper grabbed your attention by brushing against the skin of your forearm as you wanted to grab the facial water mister, impatient to get rid of this stinging sensation on your face. You frowned and peeled the note off, noticing hasty words messily scribbled on it.

maybe I can teach you correctly to put on sunscreen to avoid any other sunburns? ;) call me xx-xxx-xxx

[peculiarpatches]

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐱 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

this is part 1 of 4 or 5 (??) parts. if you like this, please give it a like and or reblog (or both). feedback is appreciated, always!! this first chapter contains smut. so if that makes you uncomfortable, this isn’t for you. and again, this is part one of others so there will be more :) 

WARNING: public sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, angst slightly??? but not really??? it’s going to get angsty more later down the road, lmao. so, buckle up. it’s one hell of a ride. enjoy :)

*~*

A flush of regret wipes over my body. The moment our lips touch,  it washes over me like a waterfall. One drop then thousands of drops came pouring down, soaking me until I was drowning in it. Regret & anxiety; Both washes over me and yet,  I  know  what I am doing is wrong but I can't bring myself to stop. A tiny part of me didn't want it to stop, either.  He knew that, I knew that.  Yet, nobody said anything. We didn't have to. We were too busy, too caught up, in each other that we didn't need to talk. No words needed to be spoken, to be said. We knew it was wrong but... if it was so wrong, why did it feel  so right?  A moan escapes past my lips and drips onto his tongue. His hands found their way to my hips, fingers sneakily trailing up my shirt and he curls his fingernails deep into my skin, making another whimper slip out from me;  no matter how hard I tried not to speak or let any noise out, he got me to do the complete opposite.  "Now, now, remember what I said... We've got to keep quiet, okay, baby girl?" He had said this earlier  and yet, it seemed as if he wanted nothing more than to get me to scream and shake.  To be putty in his hands, to melt under his touch..  The little shit was trying anything - everything - to get me to make noise.  And unfortunately, it was working.   I  shouldn't love him and he  shouldn't love me. Yet, here we were; Tangled together  with our lips locked and our hands caressing every body piece we could manage to find.    We were in the most uncomfortable place to do this at, though. We were in one of the closets  of Hawkin's community pool. It was after hours now,  the pool had been closed for some time, they always closed when the sun went down and when the children's fathers got off of work and the mothers had to be quick on their feet and head home to cook them a meal.  A few people were still in the parking lot, a few life guards were also gathering their supplies and getting ready to set, sail, and go home. Yet, Billy told me he had a surprise for me if I stayed past my curfew and past my work schedule.  Of course, I knew what he wanted. I knew what he had up his sleeve.  (The so called surprise, as you may have guess is... *drum roll*  his cock!! What an amazing present to gift someone, right?)   I, being the dumbass that I am, agreed, though.   It wasn't bad, per say. It never was bad. Hell, it only got better within each sacred and secret moment we shared together.  That's where the problem was at; I was tired of being a secret. Tired of hiding from everyone. Tired of feeling used. I wasn't Billy's rag doll he could use and carry with him wherever. I also wasn't his personal sex toy that he could slip his dick into whenever, wherever.  I was tired. So, fucking, tired. I was  exhausted, mentally and physically. Having to keep the secrets buried away, hiding them in a place they can't be broken or seen, it was truly going to be the death of me.  Especially from Steve. I was tired of lying to him.  Steve Harrington was my best friend. Best friends since kindergarten, he and I. I hated that I was hiding my relationship - was it even that? - with Billy to him.  Steve and I went to each other for everything.  Always have, always will. When he and Nancy broke up, he came to me, crying his heart out and drowning my shirts (and pillows and blankets) with tears and snot.  (Thankfully, he cleaned them up so I didn't have to. I would've done it in a heartbeat, though. I loved Steve. Steve is my best friend, I'd do anything for him, as I know he'd do anything for me.   So, lying to him made me feel like the shittiest person alive.)   That night, along with many other restless ones, we  talked  and talked until the sun came up.  I did everything I could to make him happy, to cheer him up. I baked him his favorite cookies and favorite meal once as well to try and make him feel better. Almost burnt the kitchen down while doing so, too. And, okay, maybe, the meal and the cookies didn't work out and I failed. In the end, it put a smile on Steve's face which is all I had been dying to see.  Soda dripped from Steve's nose and burnt his nostrils, he was laughing so hard when the fire alarm went off, letting us know the cookies in the oven were bursting in flames. Luckily, we saved the kitchen from exploding with fire and clouding with smoke. Can't say the same for the cookies, sadly.  From that day and onward, he and I still made jokes about burnt crisp cookies and nearly dying because of trying to bake them together.  It was one of our favorite inside jokes, actually.  ("I went to the store yesterday and I walked up and down the aisles and guess what? Not a single one had burnt crisp cookie dough.")  ("You see this bullshit, Harrington? All the cookies in the world are at this fundraiser expect for burnt crisp cookie dough!"  "Oh, man, I'm going to have to talk to the principal about that one... I cannot believe they'd do something like this.") When I got dumped by  one of the basketball players on the Hawkin's high school team, Steve was the first (and only) one who reached out to me and cheered me up. He rented out a few of our favorite movies together and before they could close, Steve and I were quick to rush to the grocery store and we picked up as much junk food as our arms could carry.   That night - along with others - was full of nothing but contagious laughter, sweet and salty foods, and horrible but too good to put down and look away movies.   All the thoughts of Steve wash away once I  feel Billy's hand dip  into the opening of my underwear, his calloused fingers pushing the thin layer of fabric aside  as his index finger slips between my folds, a gasp leaving me as I feel his touch.  His touch felt like fire among my skin, and I was an ice cube, melting in the palm of his hands.  I could feel myself sinking and sinking, slipping away into the pleasure he was about to bring onto me.  "I love when you make that face," He whispers against my neck, lips drifting across my skin, not quite in contact but not so far away either where I couldn't feel him. His breath was hot and I could smell the peppermint gum as he talked.  "Love hearing those pretty but pornographic moans of yours.... gets my cock so hard, you get me so worked up, baby girl...." Billy's scent was intoxicating. Even right now with the  left over smell of coconut lotion smeared across his skin from lathering himself up early in the morning, he smelled perfect. As perfect as can get. He smelled of coconut  mixed with peppermint and a cologne I couldn't pinpoint on exactly what  or which brand. All the scents together may sound odd and unsatisfying but I was nearly drooling as the different fragrances overwhelmed my senses. That and the fact he pushes his index and middle finger inside me, so easily, without any trouble whatsoever. Him, doing that earned another  gasp to fall off  of my lips as it was so sudden, so unexpected.  I knew I was wet, could feel the puddle of wetness coating the bottom half of my underwear but I hadn't known I was so hot and bothered he could easily slip two fingers into me. I shouldn't act so surprised, this was Billy Hargrove, after all. Billy was one, if not, the most attractive guy in Hawkin's, Indiana. Well...in our age group, anyways. A lot of other students and fellow classmates were far from attractive. (Minus Steve, but of course, he doesn't count. He knows he's attractive, just as much as Billy does. Me, telling him he's cute and everything wouldn't change the fact. He already knows it.) Moments like this, I wish I had a jar I could bottle these memories up and store them away, have a look back upon them some day with a smile on my face. I've never felt so alive, so wanted, needed and loved... not until I met Billy.  He made me feel as if I was on cloud nine and he made me feel as if  I could do anything - everything -  and I wasn't just some girl, some hookup, to him. I was special. Sure, hiding and keeping secrets wasn't the greatest feeling in the world, I'll have to have a talk with him about it, about the way I felt, but as of right now, I wanted to touch him the way he was touching me. I wanted to make him feel the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, the ones I was feeling right now. The ones I always feel when he presses his lips against mine or when he just touches me, in general. Hell, even when he smiles in my direction, holds my hand with his much larger one and or laughs at a not so funny joke I tell. I wanted to make his heart skip a beat, as he did with me. I wanted to make him feel as special as he makes me. Before I could register what I am about to say, those three little words leave my lips before I could put a stop to them.  "I love you."  I couldn't stop the sentence, even if I tried.  Billy said nothing. He hums in reply, but no words leave his mouth. He continues to move his fingers back and forth, curling and scissoring his digits deep inside me. I groan quietly, leaning my head back against the shower tile wall, holding myself up the best I could from the position I was in. "There's a good girl," is all he says. He either doesn't acknowledge what I said or he chose to ignore it. My heart aches at the second option but the feeling goes away rather fast as he's sinking to his knees and spreading my legs far apart, his head guiding up to face my cunt and before I know it, his tongue - his mouth - everything is inside and I feel as if I'm on fire.   "Oh... Oh, Billy..." I mewl,  slowly my eyelids drift close on their own as I press my lower half into his  welcoming mouth, my breathing began to grow heavy as his tongue swirls against my cunt which hardens underneath him.  He grips his fingers into my thighs, more  than likely putting imprints of his nails into my skin by  how hard he pressed them down. I didn't mind a few bruises. The bruises were  a reminder this was all happening and not some form of my imagination.    Even from the position he was in, I could feel the outline of his lips curving upward and I didn't need to look down to see the famous Hargrove smirk sitting there across his face; I could feel him smiling in between my thighs.    He, to my disappointment, pulls away, but he doesn't stay far back for too long. The cheeky little shit only wanted to lock eyes with me, shoot me a wink before diving back down in between my legs, eating me out as if he was starving. Saliva dripped down his chin and I could feel it sliding off of my thighs, too.  His tongue was everywhere, going from my pussy to the inside of my thighs to my clit back and all over again. He was devouring me, eating me out as if we were running out of time which was far from the truth.   I didn't mind it one bit. Wasn't complaining in the slightest.  My only  issue was how close I was getting to an orgasm. The signs were all there, slowly building up. My heart was pounding faster than before, my legs were shaking and my knees began to buckle. It was getting harder to keep upward.  My eyelids  could barely keep open, the familiar fluttery feeling grew bigger and stronger in my stomach. Billy, probably knowing I was close to my peak, pulled away and before he stands up, he pushes his shorts down, letting them hang by his feet. "Next time, princess, I want to see that mouth of yours stuffed with my cock; see you gagging for it, all around me. As of right now, I just want to fuck you and leave you  breathless, now bend over and let me see that pretty pussy of yours, baby. 'm gonna wreck it, have you feeling me for days, have you feeling this cock in your stomach. That's what you want, isn't it? To be fucked like I hate you?"    Before I could reply, he's taking me by the wrist and bending me forward, laying my body against one of the shelves in the closet as he rubs my opening with the head of his cock, sending a shiver to run through my body, goosebumps prickling my skin as I breathe through my nose, closing my eyes. I wait for him, wait for the stretch and the opening of his cock but it doesn't come as quickly as I would have liked.  "I don't, by the way. Hate you." He said, leaning forward whereas his back touches my own, "I'll fuck you like I do but I don't. The feeling is mutual." He said and before I could reply - before I could ask what he meant - he's pushing forward, pressing his cock deep inside me, sinking into me with a growl.   "You're so fucking tight, always so fucking tight." He grunts, hissing through his teeth as he rocks his hips back and forth, his cock going deeper inside me, inch by inch, I feel him. He's all I could feel.  He's all I want to feel.  "Please..... please, Billy." My words are crumbling together, my body was breaking apart.  "Tell me," He purred,  his breath lightly  fanning against my ear as he spoke,  his voice was low and irresistible, it made every part of me shake as he spoke. "Tell me what you want. You have to speak up in order to get what you want, love.... So, tell me." "Just you, you, you, you." I'm begging now. I can feel myself getting closer and closer. I'm holding onto the shelf so tightly because I'm afraid I'm going to fall over.   The feeling is growing, the bubbling sensation is getting larger and I can feel myself getting ready to burst.  "Please, Billy, fuck me like you hate me. Fuck me like I'm some whore on the street. Fuck me-" My words are cut off by the way he pulls out only to slam back into me. Him, doing this  - the sudden force and movement - is what makes me come undone. I knew I wasn't going to last long.  Luckily, neither does he. "Oh, fuck. Already came, did you? Such a good girl. Fuck~ you're such a good girl for me. 'm gonna cum too, fuck, I'm so close, (Y/N)." His words, much like mine were, slur together, his thrusts become sloppy and messy. And before I know it, he's cumming with a cry of my name, filling me up as he does so.  "Shit...." He groans, pulling back slowly as he then pulls me up with him, pulling me around to face him as he kisses me suddenly,  the taste of myself still strong on his tongue. It shouldn't be a turn on but it was. However, I was too exhausted for a round two any time soon.  I kiss him back, smiling against his lips.  We stay in this position for a few seconds, saying nothing because the kiss says what all that I needed to hear. He loved me too.  Pulling back, Billy smiles and moves a few pieces of hair out from my face, leaning forward, he captures my forehead with his lips, kissing it with so much softness and affection, I feel all warm and tingly on the inside.  This is the Billy nobody but me got to see. This is the Billy I was in love with.  Not the one he portrayed for everyone in town to see. He didn't have to play pretend, to put on a show, I loved him for who he was. Even the fake persona he wore. I knew it wasn't him, not at all.  "I love you."  Something flashes across his face the moment I say those three words, there's a certain  look in his eyes I can't make out but he grins nonetheless and pulls me closer to him, hand finding their way to my cheeks as he  moves to kiss me the way he had done before. "And I love you."  Of course, I should have known he was lying.  It was Billy Hargrove, after all.  He didn't date.  Didn't fall in love.  All he cared about was the person that looked back at him in the reflection of his mirror and getting into girl's pants, no matter who it was.  More importantly, he didn't fall in love with me.  It was all a lie, all a trick, and I was nothing more than a puppet on strings for him to toy around with.  I didn't know this until the next day. If I had known, I wouldn't have given myself up to him so easily. 

I was -  I still am - a fool for falling for his little white lies.  I should have known.  All the red flags were there but..... I guess I was just color blind.  I just wanted to be loved. And I thought he loved me..... I really did. I guess I was just another girl to put on the top of his list. 

[swordandquill]

Title: Winter Break

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Ch 2: Fussing - Nate has to choose between supervising a shopping spree or supervising a grumpy hitter. He definitely chooses the lesser evil.

Author’s Note: I still don’t know where this story is going or when the next update will be. 

Many, many thanks to @whumpybliss for beta reading this chapter!

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

"I know what you're trying to do."

Eliot's glare was less impressive than usual, but Nate still would have bet his money on him. Not that he wouldn't always bet on Eliot, and with things much more valuable to him than money.

"Trying to get you to eat saltines, so you don't throw up when you take the prescription strength anti-inflammatories I know you have in your bag?" Nate waved the open sleeve of crackers in front of the hitter.

"Stop fussing," Eliot snapped and snatched the sleeve out of Nate's hand.

Now that Parker had pointed it out, Nate could clearly see Eliot was favoring his left arm. Or, possibly because Parker had pointed it out, Eliot was putting less effort into hiding it.

"They shouldn't be in there alone," Eliot pulled a few crackers out of the sleeve and shoved it back at Nate.

"They're not alone," Nate swapped the sleeve for a water bottle from the grocery bag at his feet, "they have each other. We might be living off of orange soda and Trix for the next two weeks, but I think they'll get each other out of the store in one piece."

Eliot gave him a dubious look but refrained from talking with his mouth full.

"Anyway, I'm listening," Nate tapped the comm he had slipped into his ear.

"Where's my…?" Eliot frowned and tried to reach behind the seat for his bag, wincing hard at the twisting motion.

"Stop it," Nate thumped his side lightly with the back of his hand, "I've got them. Parker hasn't managed to convince Sophie that Froot Loops are both a vegetable and a fruit. Sophie is giving her tips on being persuasive, and Hardison doesn't know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, but one of them has made it into the basket."

"How have they made it this far without dying of malnutrition?" Eliot let his head flop back against the headrest.

"Cereal is fortified," Nate said dryly and poked Eliot with the water bottle, "which bag are your meds in?"

"It can wait until we get to the cabin," Eliot grabbed the offending bottle away without opening his eyes.

Nate didn't have to wrangle an injured Eliot often. Most of the time, he was more than capable of managing his own injuries. When he wasn't, Nate usually let Parker take the lead in poking and prodding while he helped Hardison track down whatever medical help their hitter needed.

Parker needed to burn off some energy, though, and Nate would rather supervise a cranky Eliot than his team on a shopping spree. He had trailed Eliot through the first aid aisle, listened to him mutter over spices and knives on the baking aisle, and then dragged him back to the van with saltines and water bottles in hand.

"Just take the anti-inflammatory," Nate argued, "it won't make you drowsy, and the longer you wait, the less well they'll work."

"Stop. Fussing." Eliot growled, somehow managing to drink his water angrily. Nate was always impressed by how Eliot could make the most mundane tasks look threatening. Luckily for him and the rest of the team, Nate was not easily intimidated.

"Just for the sake of argument..." Nate started.

"No," Eliot said flatly.

"We're stuck in the car until Hardison picks a shampoo. Humor me," Nate ignored Hardison's protests over the comm about his sensitive scalp.

"They need to hurry," Eliot groused, 'the snow is getting worse."

"Right," Nate agreed and held the sleeve of saltines out to Eliot again. He was disproportionately pleased when the hitter grabbed a few more without protest, "so let's just say there really is some shadowy figure waiting behind the curtain to get us…"

Eliot raised an eyebrow at that, probably cross-checking his mental list of people who matched that description, but Nate ignored him.

"And they orchestrated stranding the five us in this specific tiny town, in the middle of nowhere, by waiting until we were both split up on five different planes, and there was a massive storm front to force our flights here…"

"Look, I know…" Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Which is possible," Nate continued to ignore him, "highly unlikely, but possible. After all, shady figures are usually good at seizing opportunity when they see it. So let's say all of that is true. What's their next move? Where do they expect us to be?"

Eliot frowned before reluctantly admitting, "They expect us to be stranded, at the airport or one of the hotels."

"Right," Nate nodded, "and even if they somehow anticipated us renting a summer house, it would be almost impossible to control which summer house we rented. Hardison must have skimmed through a half dozen search pages worth before we went after this one."

Eliot's frown deepened as he worked the problem and thought how he would have managed something like this from the other side. Nate let him be for a minute because he was still eating crackers while he thought, seemingly without noticing.

"There are ways they could stack the deck in their favor," he finally said slowly. "Knowing what we would want in a place to lay low, making it available even though it looked unavailable, monitoring Hardison for the search criteria he was using, then populating it with multiple properties that they have control of."

"Possible," Nate conceded, "ridiculously elaborate and unnecessarily complicated, but possible."

"So, one of your plans, basically," Eliot snorted.

"I don't have the patience to wait on mother nature," Nate let the jab slide, "my point is, the best thing we can do in this situation is not be where we're most likely to be. The rest, we'll just have to deal with as it comes."

"I know that. It's just…" Eliot just looked worn out now, tired of having to run through every scenario and possibility for every given moment.

Nate had figured out fairly early on that Eliot's paranoia was rooted in both a lot of experience and a lot of trauma. It meant they would be idiots to ignore him when he said something was wrong (and Nate had, unfortunately, been that idiot on more than one occasion, although he tried not to be these days), but they also needed to be a second check on those things for him sometimes, because he could always work his way around to those perceived threats being possible, even if they weren't probable.

It had gotten a lot better over the years, and the team had gotten better at finding ways to help him deal with it when it did come up. There was never a perfect solution, but they were more than happy to settle for an imperfect one if it made things at least a little better.

"And we'll deal with everything a lot better if you just take your diclofenac," Nate cut him off again, "so what bag is it in?"

"Duffel," Eliot conceded defeat finally, "they really do need to hurry."

"I know," Nate turned around and started sifting through the bags they had tossed into the third row of seats, "they're almost done."

Parker had been sitting in the back row, and she had rearranged the luggage that hadn't fit in the trunk to make a nest of sorts for herself around the middle seat. Nate had to practically crawl over the back of the middle row to reach Eliot's duffel bag, and he only felt a little bad for messing up her carefully crafted arrangement.

Eliot carried prescription meds with him and had for as long as Nate had known him. He had worried at first about the bottle of oxi that was always packed in the hitter's personal medkit. In hindsight, he could see the hypocrisy of constantly watching Eliot for signs of opioid addiction while simultaneously getting blackout drunk on a regular basis.

It had only taken a couple months for that concern to shift from Eliot taking too many painkillers to getting Eliot to take them at all. Two years in, and Nate had been worrying about why Eliot felt like jobs would leave him in enough pain on a regular enough basis that he would need to always have that level of painkiller with him. These days, Eliot and meds were mostly a bargaining act, a give and take informed by context and where Eliot's head was at at the given moment.

Oxi made him disoriented and dizzy; he wouldn't take it if he didn't feel safe. Diclofenac made him nauseous if he didn't take it with food (sometimes even when he did). Of the two problems, that was the easier one to solve.

Nate finally managed to find Eliot's duffel bag and pulled the medkit out, tossing the bag back in the pile of luggage for Parker to rearrange and poke through to her heart's content once they got back to the van.

"You want one or two?" Nate opened the kit and sorted through the neatly labeled bottles.

"Just one," Eliot was slumped back against the headrest again, eyes closed.

"You're out of Zofran," Nate shook the empty bottle.

"I gave the last of it to Sophie when we hit that patch of turbulence on the way in for the job," Eliot said dismissively, "it's fine. I'll refill it later."

Nate handed the pill and another water bottle over to Eliot, then texted Parker and asked her to get a bottle of Zofran from the pharmacy. A little thievery would do her good after 8 hours on a plane.

Eliot took the pill, and the van went comfortably quiet aside from the rest of the team's chatter in Nate's ear. It was surprisingly relaxing to listen in on them doing something as mundane as arguing over pasta sauce and gummy frog brands. They were on the comms a lot, but during jobs, there was a certain amount of tension, the constant need to be assessing and reassessing everything that happened.

Nate didn't care what kind of pasta sauce they got, and he didn't like gummy frogs, but it was nice just to sit back and listen to them be together.

There was suddenly weight against his shoulder, and Nate held still as Eliot gradually slumped more heavily against him, eyes closed and breath even. Nate waited until he was sure he was settled before shifting to get an arm around him and stop him from sliding down too far. Eliot fidgeted in his sleep for a moment, then relaxed with a soft sigh.

It wasn't that unusual for Eliot to sleep around them, but after how keyed up he had been at the airport, having him resting solid and relaxed against his side felt like winning.

[sterekshaven]

For the Sterek prompt generator...5 for all categories 🥰

Hi! Thank you so much for the prompt =D This is probably not at all what you had in mind, but I hope you like it =D (prompt generator)

Sneaky bastard ao3

1413 words | Gen characters: Stiles, Derek, (very minor Peter and Chris) tags: Established Relationship, Engaged Sterek, Fluff, Bickering, Hurt!Derek, Hurt!Stiles, One Shot           

Stiles hated kelpies. They were cool and all, but they were also really angry and bit and drowned people, they were really just plain fucking annoying. Derek was pretty banged up after the latest encounter — it was just the second for Stiles, but two was more than enough — and his healing was taking time, fucking kelpie poison. Stiles luckily only had a sprained ankle, some bruises, and a scrape on his arm, but it hurt like hell, again, fucking kelpie poison (though his arm had just brushed against the kelpie’s teeth once, while it had gnawed on Derek quite a bit).

Derek gingerly limped over to him to check in on him when they were done, when the kelpie was finally dead, and the first thing he did was take Stiles’ hand to pull his pain.

"What the fuck, no," Stiles said and nearly pushed Derek away. "Heal yourself first, dude, you can barely walk."

"Don’t call me dude," Derek grumbled as he limped over to a log to sit. "We’re fucking engaged."

Stiles’ stomach fluttered and he grinned, because yeah. They were engaged. He was going to marry Derek in a few months. Derek rolled his eyes when he saw his grin, but Stiles saw the smile tugging on his lips.

"Yeah, yeah, be smug about it," Stiles said and limped over to sit next to him. He leaned his head against Derek’s shoulder. "How bad is it?"

"Eh, it’s not too bad," Derek said dismissively, which meant it would probably take all night for him to heal.

"Right," Stiles said. "Are you okay to drive?"

Derek sighed. "Did your phone make it?"

Stiles got it up, there was a brand-new crack on the screen but it hadn’t gotten wet at least. "I’ll call Peter."

-

Peter and Chris showed up 20 minutes later so Peter could drive them home in Derek’s car and call them idiots for not calling for help before they fought the kelpie. As if they had planned it. He did offer, all on his own, to go to the grocery store for them if they needed anything, which was nice of him.

They declined his offer though; they had what they needed, and they’d order food to be delivered. Stiles however, did not decline his offer to pull some pain, although he would have preferred if Peter had taken some of Derek’s, but he knew Derek wouldn’t accept it. It was a little easier to walk after, and his arm didn’t hurt as much.

Once home, Stiles gently pulled Derek into the shower, where they carefully helped each other wash up, then Stiles sat Derek down to patch him up.

"I’m healing, this is so unnecessary," Derek grumbled, but he still let Stiles clean and bandage wounds.

"You heal faster like this," Stiles said.

It was a common argument whenever Derek was hurt, but Stiles knew how much Derek appreciated it, so he always made sure to take the time to do it. Thankfully it wasn’t too often anymore.

Derek sighed, then winced when Stiles put a bandage in place, and Stiles pressed a soft kiss to his temple in apology.

"Sorry," he said.

"It’s fine," Derek said.

"Let's go sit in the living room," Stiles said, offering his hands.

They slowly made their way to the couch, where Stiles gracelessly flopped down and Derek very gingerly sat down next to him. Stiles grunted as he leaned forward to wake his laptop, then they spent a while deciding what to eat.

Once they had ordered, Stiles logged in on Netflix and started an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, then he leaned against Derek.

"How are you doing?" he asked, finding Derek’s hand to take.

"Healing," Derek said, and Stiles saw the black tendrils spread up his wrist as he pulled Stiles’ pain.

"Dude, no," Stiles said and took his hand from Derek’s and moved away from him. A little bit. Their shoulders were still touching, he wasn’t a martyr. "Heal yourself first, then you can take some."

Derek sighed heavily, grunted as he scooted down a little, so he could lean his head on Stiles’ shoulder. "It’s fine, I can take some, it’s not like it’s gonna make anything worse."

"No, but it is like it’s gonna cause you discomfort when you’re already in pain and need all your werewolfyness to heal yourself," Stiles said. He put his hand over Derek’s, stroked his thumb over the back of his hand.

Derek just grunted, but he turned his hand, and they threaded their fingers together.

Two episodes later, Derek twitched when the doorbell rang, and Stiles squeezed his hand before getting up. 

"I’ll get it," he said, smiling as Derek blinked and looked adorably disoriented.

He wasn’t very fast on his hurt ankle, and when he got back to the living room, food in hand, Derek came from the kitchen, carrying cutlery, soda, snacks, and napkins. Stiles raised his eyebrows at him, and Derek shrugged and yawned.

"Don’t want to get up later to get anything," he said.

"Clever," Stiles said, and Derek smiled.

They stayed on the couch the rest of the evening, slouching more and more, both yawning — Derek because healing took a lot of energy, Stiles because yawning was contagious — and Derek dozing off from time to time.

Stiles kept an eye on their hands, since Derek tended to randomly pull some pain. He loved him for it, it was very kind and sweet of him, but Derek was hurt too, and much worse than Stiles, and Stiles hated the thought of Derek hurt at all, and even more the thought of him in more discomfort because of Stiles. It wasn’t as hard on Derek when he was healed, and Stiles would gladly let him take some then, but not when he was still healing. Derek grumbled when Stiles bickered on him about it, but he stopped and that was the important thing.

"Come here," Derek said, his arm lifted so Stiles could lean against his chest.

"How’s the healing going?" Stiles asked as he tucked himself against Derek. He was so warm and nice cuddle friendly, it was amazing.

"Well," Derek said. "Not much more now."

He entwined their fingers and held their hands against Stiles’ stomach, his other hand on Stiles’ waist, his thumb slipped in under his shirt to stroke his skin. It was nice.

"Good," Stiles said. "That’s good."

He squeezed Derek’s hand, and Derek pressed a kiss to his head, then they kept watching the show.

As they sat there, Stiles felt more and more comfortable, the pain in his arm just a dull ache and his ankle was barely noticeable. He looked at their hands on his stomach, but there weren’t any black lines on Derek’s hand, so he guessed he had just found a good position and didn’t think more of it. Until he could barely feel any discomfort in his arm at all.

He turned their hands, but there weren’t any black lines anywhere, and he looked at Derek’s other hand, the one on Stiles’ waist, but there weren’t any there either, so he twisted around to frown at Derek. He looked far too innocent.

"Dude," Stiles said, and Derek raised his eyebrows at him. Stiles raised his own right back at him.

"What?" Derek asked. He was such a <em>bad</em> liar, it was amazing, and yet he still tried. Stiles couldn’t stop a smile.

"You’re the fucking worst," he said softly. "I love you, but when you’re properly healed I’m gonna smack you over the head, just so you know, you sneaky bastard."

A smile tugged on Derek’s lips, he tried to stifle it, but he had never been good at that either. "What?" he asked innocently, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"You know what." He cupped Derek’s cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his lips — so awkward in that position, but if there’s a will there’s a way and all that — then he turned back to settle in against him again. "Just know that I have so much ammunition for when you’ll think I have to slow down on my sprained ankle."

Derek groaned. "That’s not fair, you don’t heal like I do."

"Tough," Stiles said, smiling as he squeezed Derek’s hand before bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to it.

"I hate you," Derek grumbled and hugged Stiles tighter, his nose against his hair.

"I know," Stiles said. "I love you too."

[seasami]

Larry Fic Rec -- June/July

hii!! so I’ve got some fics that I read in June and July (until now). If you see a ✰ next to a title it means I really liked it and it’s one of my favs from the ones I listed. If there’s a 🔒 next to title it means you have to be logged in to read.

[Click on the title for link]

                                               _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Latitude by nikogda (44k)

Summary: Harry’s a hybrid on a boat about to be hit by a storm and Louis is the human who comes to his rescue. That storm is all the time they have to fall in love before going their separate ways. That is, until almost a year later… 

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by Anonymous ✰ (25k)

Summary: Harry had been kissed before, but never like this.He’d shared sweet, curious kisses behind bleachers and in soda shop booths, one or two more daring ones in cars parked on dark suburban streets, but the girls he’d kissed had never filled him with the desperation that erupted from Louis’ touch. He parted his lips and pulled him closer, as though he could breathe Louis straight into his lungs, as if he could swallow him. He wanted to consume Louis the way he consumed the body and blood of Christ. He wanted to place Louis on his tongue and feel him dissolve into a frothy mess of starch and saliva. He wanted to gulp him down until his teeth were stained purple and he was drunk on him. He wanted him in some violent holy way that made his hands shake where they were twisted in Louis’ shirt.

In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

No Candle No Light (No Friendzone To My Love) by Anonymous (11k)

Summary: Louis glanced at his friend, glaring daggers and Niall chuckled. He looked like his idea could end world hunger and Louis was horrified. [...]“Come on, Niall! Tell me!” Harry insisted, excited.“You can threaten him other than with violence. You said you want a little revenge, right? What if an ex-boyfriend came to reconquer you? You know, the jealous and aggressive kind.”Harry sighed loudly, closing his eyes. Louis frowned, just like Liam and Zayn. What was he talking about? And why was he still looking at Louis that way?“Niall, this could’ve been a nice idea if I had an ex-boyfriend, but-”“Let me explain!” Niall barged in. “ You don’t have an ex-boyfriend but you can pretend you have one! I’m sure Louis would love to help you with that.”Liam almost choked on his wine and Zayn bit so hard on his lip to contain his laughter that it might have bled. Niall looked satisfied as hell, of course he was the little shit, and Louis just had time to flip him the finger before Harry turned to him. He was fucking delighted.

Or the one where helping Harry getting rid of his boyfriend may be the only way to his heart

Sugar by lettersfromvenus (15k) ✰

Summary: 

“I hope our paths will ‘croissant’ again.” 

There’s a little smiley face drawn next to the words, and it’s ridiculous, Louis knows, but he can’t help the swell of butterflies that he feels as he reads over the words once more. An odd fellow indeed, he thinks.A moment later he shakes his head and collects himself, because he really does need to get home; he’s sure that Harry is probably watching him from behind the counter, all sweet, smug smiles and pink cheeks. And if he’s being honest, he’s not entirely sure he won’t toss his groceries into the trash and walk straight back into the bakery if he doesn’t leave now, so… he really does need to get going.

 Before he goes on his way, though, he plucks the note from the top of the container and carefully tucks it inside of his wallet to protect it from the rain.

That’s how it begins.

Only Been Here One Time by alienharry (10k)

Summary: 

“Good morning, Liam. Harry.” Louis nods at them both and then cocks his head. “Are you aware you have four nipples, Harry?”

Harry looks down at his chest, suddenly worried. He doesn’t know how many nipples humans have, but four must not be a usual amount. “Should I have six?”

“Not unless you’ve a litter of kittens to feed.”

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose by dolce_piccante (112k) ✰

I KNOW ITS ICONIC BUT I READ IT A MONTH AGO SO I THOUGHT I’D INCLUDE IT HERE. 

Summary: American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers). 

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football. 

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

It’s All Brand New by midnightwhistleberries (10k)

Summary: “Harry,” Louis intones emphatically, “literally everyone in the U.K. has known that I’m openly bisexual since 2011.” 

“’Cept you, I guess,” supplies Niall. 

In which Harry studies engineering, loves Madonna, and can't tell if Louis likes him or just keeps coming back to the record store because he's some sort of musical hoarder. Louis is famous, Harry has no idea, communication issues are rampant and fluffy pining ensues.

Fool For You by flowercrownfemme, lesbianferrissbueller (46k) ✰

Summary:  “It’s not a game.” Harry scoffed, trying to push past him once more but Louis held his ground. “And I’ve never once told you a lie.” “All you do is lie," Harry argued. "Jests and tricks and made up stories, that’s your trade. I’d never trust a word from your mouth.” “I tell stories,” Louis conceded, “but a good one must be based on truth. And my stories tend to get a bit more truthful when I’m around you, Princess.”

In which Harry is a brooding prince who's scarcely smiled since the death of his mother and Louis is the dashing jester hired to change that.

streetwise hercules by bottomlinsons (7k) 🔒

Summary: I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”Right. This is Harry’s part.

(Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry's boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.)

Close Enough To Touch by stinky28 (7k)

Summary: “You are killing it!” The stranger shouts in his ear, to which Louis raises a brow, setting up the next transition and song, bobbing a bit in place before glancing over to the stranger and Oh. Red. 

He’s staring right at a very large, oddly tied red bow tie. It takes up the whole stranger’s chest and..it’s bloody brilliant. He fucking loves it. He feels himself break into a giant grin, looking up at Mr. Red Bowtie’s face and Oh. Fuck. 

OR an au where louis is the dj for the met gala after party and harry can’t leave his side.

Hate Me To The Moon by harrystylesandstuff (83k)

Summary: The last thing Harry wanted was to spend his entire summer stuck with his dad's new fiancée and her kids. He wants no more when he learns she's a very religious dictator, raising a sixteen year old nun and a clean cut potential priest ass kisser.

Everything takes a slightly different turn, however, when Harry finds out his future step-brother is actually the rude stranger he caught sucking off a guy in a pub, far from the reserved Christian his mom thinks he is...

AU where Harry is a sexy nerd, Louis is a great actor, and they both pretend to hate each other's guts to convince themselves they're not feeling things future step-brothers shouldn't feel...

hush. by Wankerville (41k)

Summary: “I don't like you like that, Harry.”

“See,” Harry starts, Louis can hear the smile in his voice, “that's where I think you're lying.”

or an au where small towns suck, louis is losing it, and harry’s just too perfect.

The Unsuccessful Promise by trysomecats (11k)

Summary: At the end of the previous school year, Louis swore to everyone that he would return in the fall as an alpha. He made this promise especially to his arch-nemesis Harry Styles, who has already presented as an alpha himself. Unfortunately over summer break, the worst thing possible happens: Louis presents as an omega. Now school is back in session and he has to return and face the consequences of pre-determining his status. 

Featuring Liam and Zayn as Louis' doting and exasperated parents.

Autumn At My Window by TheCellarDoor (20k) 

Summary: A canon-compliant AU, in which Harry and Louis are both in the band and have been sharing flats and hotel rooms for nearly five years, but never made the leap past 'friends who are too close for comfort'. 

Featuring a lot of pining, Louis' addiction to Harry's scent, and a whole lot of sexual tension that might just snap loose when they decide to spend some time together all on their own.

OKAY! That’s it for now cause I don’t want this post to be too long (oof i’ve read a lot actually). I have Fic Rec June/July Part Two in drafts and im also gonna collect fics that I’ve read on my kindle (its usually above 50k and make a fic rec with them). Stay tuned and follow my blog so you don’t miss it idk <33. 

PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK ON THIS: I can make: Iconic Fics, My Fav Fics or try and do some themed fic rec. LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D WANT THAT! 

[sabreean]

One word for you...

Where I have not gone plastic-free:

Bread box: There are no plastic-free, airtight bread boxes that I’ve been able to find and I *must have* airtight. I make my own bread in a bread machine just because I like to, and the first few loaves I made here on the humid island grew mold within three days because my old bread box was not airtight. Bread bags are more eco-friendly but aren’t airtight, and will hold the humidity. I could find no silicon boxes and also could not find silicone containers/bags that I could be sure would be big enough to hold a loaf of bread and still close completely. I’m considering a giant silicone bag I found online, for marinating meat, so if I get that I can see if a loaf will fit inside. But I haven’t pulled the trigger on that yet, buying something just to marinate meat doesn’t fall neatly into the “I really need it now” category. So I purchased a BPA-free plastic, airtight box and it seems to be working very well. It’s so airtight that I was able to store bananas in it as well and there has been no sign of fruit flies.

Suncare: I spent two days working on the porch. I was under a roof in shade the entire time but I sunburn if I stand next to a toaster, so at the end of the second day I looked like Roy Neary in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. As in the right half of my face was bright red. I wasn’t wearing sunscreen because it breaks me out. All of it. Every single sunscreen ever. They all break out my face, neck and chest within 20 minutes of application. So I did some research and learned about mineral sunscreens versus chemical sunscreens and after reading a lot of recommendations and reviews, I ordered Alba Botanica Sensitive Mineral Sunscreen. Yes the tube is plastic, but there’s probably no avoiding that. The sport cream is 45 SPF, waterproof for up to 80 minutes, vegan, free of all the chemicals that turn my face into a Marscape, biodegradable and - get this - reef safe. That’s a “gee how nice” for most people but now that I’m swimming around coral reefs, shit got real. They also make a spray-on but it’s not legal to ship aerosol cans to Hawaii, something about them exploding under pressure blah-bibby-blah. Pretty bummed about that. For those wondering, until now I’ve worn a sun visor whenever I’m outdoors but it didn’t occur to me to wear it on a covered porch. I’m sure it didn’t occur to Roy on a dark deserted highway in the middle of an Indiana night, either. LATER UPDATE: Native makes a mineral sunscreen and I thought it wasn't water resistant, but it turns out that it is, although I should not have had to dig so deep into their website to find this out. Better than getting anal probed, all things considered. The Alba sunscreen is very thick and hard to squeeze out of the tube, and you can feel it on your skin at first but you forget pretty quickly. It is completely unscented. You have to make sure to rub it in well if you don’t want to look a little weird. It showers off clean and easy and after a few days with it, not a single blemish! Our pharmacy sells some water resistant mineral sunscreens. I didn’t price them the last time I was there to compare with online ordering and they are probably reef-safe because as of January 1 of this year, suncreeens containing oxybenzone and octinoxate are banned in Hawaii to protect the reefs. But my next purchase will be Little Hands because it is made right here in Hawaii. I have been a big believer in ‘buy local’ for many years and they are plastic-free.

Groceries: Groceries haven’t changed. I’ve been using cloth shopping and produce bags for many years, they just bloody well work better. I do buy some foods in plastic, often there just isn’t any alternative. This was true even on the mainland. The main change is that now I walk to the store more often than not. I was able to walk to almost everything I needed when I lived in Austin’s SoCo in the early aughts and I loved it, I am so so happy to be able to do that again. Knowing I’m just a pleasant stroll away also means that I only buy what I need in the immediate future. There are a few exceptions for items that sell out very soon after the weekly supply barge comes, and don’t always get restocked even then. I drive when I have to buy heavy or awkward to carry things, like a case of soda. I’ve found conflicts with grocery choices because of a weird contradiction: non-hippie products in cardboard/paper packaging versus hippie products in plastic. I first noticed this when I went to buy sugar the other day - do I get the organic non bleached sugar in the plastic bag, or the nonorganic bleached sugar in the plastic bag? It wasn’t much of a conflict in any real world sense, just something that grabbed my attention. (I went with the plastic by the way, for the organic foodstuff that was going to go into my body).

Probably the clothesline, I have no idea what the hell that thing is made of, most likely nylon. We don’t use it for everything because it’s too humid here to dry everything in a reasonable amount of time. But we use it for some things - especially towels and swim wear - and I’m glad that we have it and it saves money on electricity. Our electricity generation here on the island is likely solar but still, no need to be greedy about it. Lots of people here have clotheslines, they are a common sight I am glad to see.

Bandages: I use Wellys. Patch bamboo bandages sound great, but I am clumsy AF and so I need bandages that are going to stay on through wet and dry and everything else. Wellys are flexible fabric, latex-free bandages made in the USA, in reusable tins that you can buy refills for if you don’t want a new tin, and that create a seal around all four edges. They are a certified B Corp so even with a bit of plastic, the company is still in line with my ethics.

Makeup: I use mostly mineral makeup, because it lasts longer (no organic ingredients to breed bacteria) and many mineral brands offer smaller quantities that are more sensible for people who don’t wear it everyday, or at least don’t wear the same colors every day. On the mainland I went weeks without wearing makeup and here I’ll probably go for months, it’s just such a casual place. I might wear some when we go across to Maui for a long weekend. But there are a lot of all natural and plastic-free makeup options out there these days, I am glad to see. If I need to replace anything I will shop with them but it’s just stupid and wasteful to toss everything out and buy new. One thing I won’t compromise on is mascara, I use Thrive because it really does what it claims, and it is still a company that aligns with my ethics. Many zero-waste brands sell cake mascara and that’s a complete nope for me. I tried cake mascara in high school, when I was going through my Audrey Hepburn/Sophia Loren makeup phase and I really didn’t like it. I also tried cake eyeliner and must confess that this elder goth never ever got the hang of liquid eyeliner, Icarus winged better than I can. I gave up a long time ago, pencil me in baby. Also, I wear lipstick, the paint-on stuff that stays on through food, drink, sex and a nuclear blast. IMO, lip balms are a waste of money and do not count as ‘makeup’, unless you’re only intention is to prevent chapped lips and with a small amount of color that lasts few minutes at a time.

Hair brush: I need a new hair brush that is designed for my long fine mane because my hair is getting a lot of punishment here, between wind and swimming and so more frequent washing and lots of pulling and tugging into braids. I bounced back and forth between Ibiza (boar bristles, wood handle) and Mason Pearson (boar bristles, plastic handle), for about half an hour. I finally decided to bite the big one and invest in the Mason Pearson. It is universally reputed as the best hair brush to be had on planet Earth. The was company founded in London by a Yorkshireman named Mason Pearson (bet you didn’t see that coming) in 1885. The boar bristles are either shed bristles collected from the wild in India and China or sourced from the meat industry as they are a by-product of processing farmed boar; you may ask so I will answer and yes, I do eat boar. Mason Pearson is still owned and run by the Pearson family and the Pearson women have always played integral roles in the company. Indeed Mary Pearson was the CEO for the 20 years following the death of her husband, founder Mason, and one of their daughters ran the top floor of the factory on Old Ford Road in London for 50 years. You can purchase a brush with a handcrafted made-to-order wood handle but while I am willing to make the investment in a Mason Pearson brush, I just can’t bring myself to be so self-indulgent as to even send a price inquiry for the wood model. This is where my best friend reminds me of the lengths I went to and the price I paid to obtain a bottle of the finest Irish whiskey in the world to demonstrate that yes, I can be that self-indulgent without much convincing. I just can’t bring myself to do it with a hair brush. I purchased from Pasteur Pharmacy in NYC because they made their bones, if you will, in their early years in the 60s by catering to humans with dogs.

Bed blanket: I just couldn’t bring myself to buy a bamboo blanket/bedspread that costs in the $275 neighborhood when the dogs will be spending at least as much time on it as we will spend under it. So we went with half cotton/half bamboo for a much more reasonable price. The temps here are warm by the thermometer but the air is heavy with humidity (100% yesterday and that doesn’t necessarily mean rain), so when the fans blow it around it can be pretty damn chilly. And the dogs steal the covers.

Clothing: if I need new clothing I will consider bamboo but it’s damned expensive. I was shopping for a second bathing suit recently because I’m at the beach often enough that I need a suit to wear while the other one is drying or waiting to be laundered free of all the salt and sand that didn’t wind up in my ass or under my tits. I always thought that sand-in-uncomfortable-places was a joke, I was very wrong. I spent two hours searching for bamboo or other plant-based sustainable fabric or recycled fabric and found nothing under a hundred bucks. Nothing. Not even a thong bikini (I already have sand up my ass, I don’t need material there as well). I’m not lounging instagrammatically on Waikiki, I’m swimming in 5+ foot surf every weekend at least, so I am not willing to pay that much for a suit intended for plenty of use and punishment. I got a bikini because it will be easier to discreetly rinse most of the sand away before going back up the beach, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

[orangeoctopi7]

A Little Scare

@forduary week 2 is trust/paranoia, so here’s a little feral!Ford fic.

***

“Grunkle Stan, you promised you’d take us to the grocery store!” Mabel complained.

“Yeah, well that was before I broke my toe tripping over your hot glue gun.”

Stan was sitting in his recliner, both feet up, while Ford applied some sort of special cream to the swollen, blackened toe in question. The kids stood between him and the TV, determined not to let their Grunkle just relax and watch TV until they got what they wanted.

“But I still have another dozen cookies to make for tonight’s human-gnome relations seminar, and we’re all out of eggs and milk!”

“And I’m out of ball-point pens!” Dipper added.

“Look, kids, Ford says I gotta stay off my foot for the next 24 hours if his incredible cure-all is gonna work. Otherwise I’m gonna be in a boot for the rest of the month, and nobody wants that. Why can’t you just ask Soos to take you once tours are done for the day?”

“Because he doesn’t finish until six, and the seminar starts at 6:30!”

“You know, Stan, I could take them.” Ford offered.

Stan gave his brother a skeptical glance. “You sure about that, Poindexter? Remember what happened last time?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “That was last fall! I’ve made a lot of progress keeping my cool in social situations.”

“Yeah, in open-air markets, not a cramped little grocery store.”

“You know what? I’m going to take them, just to prove to you that I can!” Ford huffed.

“Alright, fine. ‘Snot like I can stop you. But take Soos’s truck. There’s no way I’m lettin’ you drive my car.”

“Fine.”

“Yay!” The kids cheered, following Ford into the hall.

Stan caught hold of Dipper’s vest as the boy passed. 

“Hey, kid, do me a favor? Just stick close to Ford while you’re at the store, alright?”

Dipper nodded. “Sure thing, Grunkle Stan.”

***

“I don’t see why Stanley is so insistent that I can’t drive his car.” Ford complained as he pulled into the parking lot. “I got us here without incident.”

“Well, you did end up on the curb a handful of times.” Mabel pointed out.

“And narrowly avoided a collision with a car parked on the side of the road.”

“Avoided being the operative word.” Ford insisted. “And don’t try and tell me Stan’s any better.”

“True.” the kids agreed.

The grocery store wasn’t terribly busy, but Gravity Falls wasn’t a big town, so that was to be expected. As soon as they entered, Mabel led them into the dairy section to get her eggs and milk. They were both located in the back corner of the store. Stanford found himself tensing as he walked down a cold aisle filled with different kinds of cheese, butter, cream, milk, and eggs. He couldn’t see the other people in there with them, couldn’t see what they were doing, couldn’t see the exit--

It’s fine. He told himself. It’s just a grocery store. People are just here to get food.

“Welp, I gotta go get some girl stuff.” Mabel declared once she’d loaded her carton of eggs into the grocery cart. “See you guys at the checkout!” She sauntered off to the other end of the store, quickly lost from Ford’s sight among all the displays of soda cans and snack cakes.

“She’ll be ok.” Dipper assured his uncle, slipping his tiny hand into the scientist’s larger one. Ford immediately blushed. Was his discomfort that obvious?

Dipper led Ford to the office supplies, where they grabbed a packet of nice blue ink pens. It really wasn’t that bad, he kept telling himself. Sure, he was tense, he was on high-alert, even higher because Mabel had wandered off on her own, but he could handle it. It would be fine.

It would have been fine, if not for the spill.

They were passing through the frozen aisle when someone behind them pulled out a big bag of frozen peas. Unfortunately, the bag had frozen together with its neighbor, and when one was pulled out, it tried to take the second bag with it, leading to a rip. Two bags full of frozen peas spilled onto the floor, making a cacophony of pinging, tinkling sounds. Tiny ice crystals flew up in the air as the peas shattered. Ford’s hairs stood on end as the cold flecks showered them. As the rapid-fire shattering assaulted his ears. 

Suddenly, Ford wasn’t in the grocery store. He was in the ice fields of Raretania 2, with a pack of cryokinetic creatures on his tail. Icicles grew on them like spines, and when they wanted to take down a meal, they could shoot the ice shards like a porcupine on steroids.

The old researcher scooped up his nephew and began frantically searching for a place to hide. Outrunning these things wasn't an option, when they could shoot their icicles with such speed and accuracy. These aisles were barren of any real cover. All they did was hide whatever was on the other side. However, Ford did notice a few feet of space between the top of the freezers and the ceiling. That could work. 

He more-or-less threw Dipper up onto the freezers before scaling them himself. A quick survey of the area showed they had lost their pursuers for now. But someone was still in immediate danger.

"Where's your sister!?" Ford hissed quietly to Dipper, who was still sputtering after being thrown up here like a pile of dirty laundry.

"Wh-- probably the cosmetics aisle, I dunno! What's--"

"We need to get to her before they do."

"They who?"

"I don't know if they have an actual name on the planet they're from. I always just called them Iciquills. Suffice to say, they're extremely dangerous, so we need to find Mabel and warn her. Now come on, we can probably jump to the next shelf from here."

Rather than be concerned, Dipper just latched onto his uncle's leg, stopping him from leaping. "Great Uncle Ford, no! You'll just hurt yourself! Or at the very least make a huge mess!"

"That hardly matters in this situation! We need to find Mabel without drawing their attention."

"Mabel's not in danger! We're not in danger! Stop and think! Why would Iciquills be here, at the grocery store? How would Iciquills be at the grocery store?"

Every cell in Ford's body was screaming at him to act before it was too late. But he knew if there was any real danger, Dipper wouldn't just brush it off like this. And when he stopped to think about it, no, it didn't make any logical sense.

"But… but I heard it! The sound of their quills just missing a target! I felt the breaking ice on the backs of my legs!" 

"Oh. I guess that was pretty scary, when you put it like that." Dipper grimaced. "But I promise, it was just an accident! Someone dropped their peas. Look!" The boy pointed to the back of his uncle's pant legs. Tiny flecks of thawing peas stuck there.

Ford's heart sank, and his face burned red with embarrassment. He'd come here to prove Stanley wrong, and instead did just the opposite. Now he wanted to hide up here for completely different reasons.

"The longer we stay up here, the more embarrassing it's gonna get." Dipper suggested.

Ford nodded mutely, and swung his legs over the top of the freezer, dropping the last few feet with a light "oof" before helping Dipper down. Luckily, the only person who'd seen the whole debacle was the guy who'd dropped the peas in the first place: Wendy's tall friend, Lee. He seemed to know better than to make a scene, and just waved meekly.

"Dude, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry." Ford reflected.

"Come on, let's see if Mabel's done." Dipper suggested.

They found her in the cosmetics aisle, like Dipper had expected, comparing two brands of lip-balm. She noticed their soured moods almost immediately. 

"Is something wrong? What happened?"

"I'll tell you in the car." Dipper assured her. "Let's just buy our stuff and go."

After rushing through the checkout line, they piled back into Soos's truck and headed home. Dipper filled Mabel in on Ford's scare. To the old man's credit, he did his best to laugh it off now that it had passed.

"I'd appreciate it if you two didn't mention that to Stan."

Mabel and Dipper shared a wicked glance. "Well, it's gonna take a lot of chocolate to make us forget that." The colorful girl said.

[metaphortunes]

Howdy friends, I’ve written a few short stories that I wanted to throw out into the ether. And I went back and tagged all my previous writing posts with the tag “metaphortune writes” for easy finding!

Here’s a short story about small towns, the priorities of young people, the sweetness of summer, and siblings. I didn’t edit it at all so my apologies in advance for any grammar failures!

The Big Slush machine went out on Sunday, April 14th, 2005. If we’re being honest here, it was the only reason my sister and I went to Johnson’s Fuel Mart. Their soda fountain tasted like it dumped about as much plastic into every cup as it did soda syrup. Their candy was tremendously overpriced, they had 1 brand of chips, Big Harold’s, and they cleaned the floors about once every 2 years. But the Big Slushes were heaven.

Suffice to say, April 14th was the end of an era for us. Each passing week we drifted farther and farther from knowing those floors like the back of our hands. Our ability to use the Big Slush machine with surgical precision faded and we reverted to slushie peasants. Mona, the main evening clerk slowly forgot our names, and our allowances stayed in our pockets more than ever.

One Tuesday, July 14th, I walked to Frantz Park down on Alpine Road. The benches were covered in droplets of a syrupy, sappy resin from a tree I’d never learned the name of. After sitting on the 40-year-old swings for a while, rusty chains and all, I walked through the outfield of the baseball diamond.

There was a windstorm that blew through town on July 12th, so it was no surprise when, deep into center-field, I saw a few pieces of trash had blown into the grass. A 3ft long Walgreens receipt, a fast food wrapper, and the item that caught my attention. A full two months after the Big Slush machine went out, there it was. In pristine condition, a clear plastic Big Slush cup. 34 fluid ounces with a flared rim. No lid, no straw, just the cup.

Obviously, I was elated. I picked up the cup and started fast-walking home. Throughout the walk my mind was fixated on what I believed to be the one possible explanation for how the pristine Big Slush cup came to be there: somewhere in our 15 stoplight town, there was a new Big Slush machine.

Nora shared my enthusiasm for the cup, but was more skeptical of my hypothesis. Realistically speaking, there weren’t many other places that would’ve had the machine. Not to mention, would they have the good flavors? Blue Raspberry, White Cherry, and Cola? Would it even be worth it if the machine had the disappointment of Grape or the medicine taste of Strawberry? It was purely speculation, but our teenage minds raced.

The next day, geared up with a list of all the businesses we thought could have a Big Slush machine, we set out to find it. First, we walked up State Route 117 to the small grocery, Three Bear Market. No luck there, but they were having a sale on gum. Blowing giant, sticky bubbles, we walked to the next business. Cutting across the alley between State Route 117 and Terrence Street, we made it to McAllen’s Bakery. No luck there, but the owner was very nice and complimented our backpacks.

We took Terrence Street to Alpine Road and stopped for a short break at Frantz Park. The benches were still sappy, the swings were still rusty. Funny how things don’t change overnight. We walked the outfield of the baseball diamond looking for any other pieces of evidence, but alas, there was no trash to be found. That’s probably good in the grand scheme of things, but we were disappointed.

Walking through the streets with Nora was a slightly blissful experience. Not quite a full on sort of bliss where everything in the world is great and nothing ever hurts; but a soft, warm filter on everything. That’s the benefit of having a good relationship with your older sibling, having them around is like a blanket of security. Nothing can ever go THAT wrong when they’re with you.

We’d taken Alpine to First, then First to Reagan. On Reagan was the first gas station built in town, the Marathon, formerly known as the Brachston Pump Station. Marathon bought it up in 1996, installed all new pumps, remodeled the inside, and removed any character the building had had. Oh, and they didn’t have a Big Slush machine. Probably worth mentioning that.

From the Marathon on Reagan, we walked a block or so down the Walgreens. Walgreens having a slushie was a long shot, but didn’t pharmacies used to have soda fountains back in the day? It wasn’t THAT absurd. We wandered around the building to find exactly zero Big Slush machines. The clerks, disenchanted college dropouts, paid exactly zero attention to us.

The last place we tried was the only other gas station in town, Stop-N-Go. We had to walk the entire rest of the way down Reagan to where it dead-ended into Marshall Street and walk Marshall Street until it dead-ended into Montgomery Avenue. That all ends up being about a mile’s walk, but we were determined. We entered through the oddly heavy steel and glass door and asked the clerk. They didn’t have one.

However, the clerk, Henry, was also a fan. Or at least pretended to like them. As a favor to the owner, Henry worked one night at the other Stop-N-Go, about 4 miles away in Hallston back in 2003. He remembered them having a slushie machine, but couldn’t remember what type. We figured that even if it was there in 2003, it probably wasn’t there today, and slunk out of the store. But Henry came out after us and said “let me call the other store and ask them for you, alright?”

The clerk on the other end seemed very confused, but eventually was able to confirm the news we were so adamant on receiving: they had a Big Slush machine in working order! We expressed our joy and gratitude to Henry after he hung of the phone, he said he was “stoked it worked out for you.” We were stoked too, Henry.

We took Montgomery down to Fourth and ended up back home. Our parents wouldn’t be home from work for a few hours, which gave us time to plot exactly how we’d ask them to drive us 4 miles to go to a gas station. The plotting was all for naught, as they were tremendously unimpressed. “Next time we’re out that way, we’ll go” they said. But the reality of the situation was that we’d only been to Hallston a few times. It was in the opposite direction of Wrexham, the small city we’d go to from time to time.

Luckily, Nora remembered a fact that I had failed to remember. The rails-to-trails bike path that went through our town also went through Hallston. Neither of us were really that interested in biking, but if it meant getting a Big Slush? We’d have biked 20 miles one way. We got our bikes out for the first time in weeks that day, inflated the tires, tested our helmets, and set off.

Four miles is a hell of a bike ride when you haven’t biked in weeks. It was all flat land surrounded by farmer’s fields, but it was still 4 miles in the heat of July. Luckily, we had a frosty goal to keep our minds set on. Whenever we faltered or slowed down, the other would just say “Big Slush!!!” in a sort of TV commercial announcer voice. After a half an hour or so, we made it to the Hallston. Neither of us really knew where the Stop-N-Go was, but we fortune favored us. A Stop-N-Go fuel truck was stopping-n-going at the the traffic light near the bike path. We sped to follow it.

The truck took a left onto the state route and turned into the Stop-N-Go. Success! We found ourselves in the parking lot, shouting “Big Slush!!!” at each other in the aforementioned voice. We opened the surprisingly light (or just well maintained) steel and glass door and saw a large sign hanging from the ceiling that said “DRINKS” in Comic Sans. We walked towards the sign and found our holy grail. The Big Slush machine.

There it sat on a red counter, humming away and constantly rotating the slush inside. Condensation sat on the plastic windows to view each of the three flavors churning, and we parsed the flavor selection. Strawberry (aka medicine), Grape (aka disappointment), and White Cherry. As Meatloaf didn’t say: 1 out of 3 ain’t bad. But as we approached the machine, our hearts sunk. The White Cherry flavor was out of order.

We literally ran to the counter to ask the incredibly confused clerk what was happening and when it would be fixed. There was an error with the ratios of the newest White Cherry syrup batches which made the slushies too hard to fit through a straw. We begged the clerk to just turn it on and let us have some, we didn’t care that they’d be hard, we didn’t care how long it’d take, and we’d wait around; but the clerk refused.

Ultimately, we’d come too far for this to happen. We were going to drink a Big Slush and that was going to be the end of it. We swallowed our unhappiness and decided to get the flavors of medicine and disappointment. I got the Grape, Nora got the Strawberry. Honestly, they were not great. The Grape still tasted like the inside of a shoe, and the Strawberry still tasted like it was a slushie version of children’s liquid ibuprofen. But they still quenched a primal desire in us. Can you call a desire for a slushie a primal desire? Sure, why not.

The rest of the summer break, we’d bike to Hallston two or three times a week. Biking got easier each time we went, the rides got quicker, we had to shout “Big Slush!!!” at each other less. The White Cherry flavor never came back, but we learned to appreciate the Grape and Strawberry flavors. If we mixed the two, it almost tasted good for some reason. Grape and Strawberry isn’t exactly a combination you’d expect to taste cohesive and fulfilling, and yet, here we were.

Eventually the school year and extra-curriculars caught up with us and we were lucky to make it to the Hallston Stop-N-Go once a week. Our enthusiasm never waned, though. Each time, we hoped that they’d have finally gotten another flavor to replace the White Cherry, and yet, even a year after, they hadn’t. Strawberry and Grape. Medicine and Disappointment. Nora and Jamie.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Equinox: Summer [4]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 (here) | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

"You’re suuuuper-tan, Sakura,” Temari pointed out. She lounged on the sofa, gesturing to Sakura with the soda in her hand. 

“That’s what happens when you go out in the sun, Tem. You should try it some time,” quipped Sakura as she placed a bowl of chips on the coffee table. Temari grimaced at the thought.

“Careful. You’re gonna end up looking like one of those rotisserie chickens soon,” teased Hidan. 

Sakura’s eyes popped open. A startled laugh spilled out of her. And out of everyone else too. They threw their heads back, collapsing in their seats. Cackling and slapping the arms of the sofa until their stomachs hurt. In the middle of it all, Sakura opened her eyes. Through the glass door, she glimpsed Tobirama walking down the hall, away from them. His hands in his pockets, some kind of folder tucked under his left arm.

Despite the fact that she was no longer working under this company, she still dropped in to see her friends. Tobirama hadn’t asked for her key card back and he hadn’t revoked her access to the building. They hadn’t really spoken since returning from their trip. Part of her was grateful that he was giving her the space she had asked for. But another part of her...

“I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back,” she announced, getting to her feet. 

“Kay,” replied Temari. She hit the spacebar to replay the track she was currently working on. 

“Aye. This is sick, Tem,” Hidan commented as she walked out of the room. Kakuzu began bobbing his head beside him.

As the glass doors swung shut behind her, Tobirama turned. The sounds of music and people’s voices must have drawn his attention. And as if on reflex, he smiled at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied, walking down the hall to catch up to him.

“I’m just heading to my office,” he told her, waving with his folder. He lowered it when she didn’t say anything in response. 

The only reason she didn’t speak was because she couldn’t stop staring at him. He had done something with his hair. His bangs didn’t part in the middle of his face. It was off more to one side. And his hair curled cutely against his forehead, almost like a comma. She always forgot how broad his shoulders were and how good they looked- even under a regular t-shirt.

With all these thoughts running through her head, Sakura bit her lower lip. Felt her hands close on the front of his shirt. Soft, black cotton against her fingertips. She saw him drop his folder. Papers scattering across the floor.

She kissed him. And he kissed her back just as eagerly. In the sort of way that made her knees go weak. Breaths coming in short, hot huffs as they tilted their heads for the perfect angle. Him dipping his head to make up for his height. Then, Tobirama did one of her favorite things in the world. Lips following hers when she tried to pull away, fingers curling around her jaw and chin to try to coax her back.

A distant clatter from down the hall finally pulled them apart. Their heads jerked toward the sound. But it was just the noise of one of the doors to the stairs opening on one of the upper floors. Whoever it was, headed down the stairs without pausing on this level.

“Whoa,” Sakura breathed. 

They both looked down and found his hand under her shirt, palm pressed to her spine. Both of her hands were under his shirt too. They took a step apart. Hands returning to the right bodies, straightening clothes and fixing hair.  Sakura was glad that she wasn’t wearing lipstick. That would be harder to clean up.

“Sorry,” Tobirama mumbled, back of his hand pressing to his mouth. Color crept into his cheeks as he looked anywhere but at her. Which didn’t offend Sakura because she was having trouble looking at him too. 

Her face burned as she wondered what had come over her. The lapis lazuli hung from her neck. And she knew that nothing he had said had made her brain go foggy. She would have felt it. But her body have moved on its own, before she even had a chance to think the impulse through.

“Tell Tem and the others I’m sorry. I’ll.... I’ll call you,” she said before she hurried past him, down the hall, toward the elevators.

“You will?” she heard Tobirama ask after her. Voice bewildered. Filled with hope.

The new arrival in Old Pines received a warm welcome. Above all, Old Pines considered itself a haven for the supernatural. Everyone was welcome. And, according to the mayor, he was the first merman they'd seen in a while.

"How long?" Tenten asked.

"Before my time. You'd have to ask the Sheriff about that," replied Tsunade.

He came into town every few days to buy groceries or supplies. Smelling of seawater, damp hair pushed up into spikes. And if he ran into Sakura at the grocery store, he certainly wasn’t above following her through the aisles. Commenting on the brand of pasta she got and irritating her until, laughing, she turned around to slap him on the arm.

At first, Sakura had a hard time reconciling him with the man she'd seen in Ibiza. She looked up the distance between her home and the island. It was over 3000 miles. While she wasn't sure how far a merman could swim in a day, she was fairly certain that it wasn't enough.

Kisame roared with laughter when she asked him.

Running both his hands through his wet hair, he stood on the stern of his boat. Sakura's eyes drifted down. She couldn't help but appreciate his body. Blue skin or not, he something to behold. It was a physique that had been born from necessity. Powerful back and shoulder muscles. Strong legs to propel him through the water.  

“There’s something called an airplane, you know,” he told her, looking over his shoulder at her. But when she frowned, Kisame flashed a smile at her.

"Although I'm flattered that you overestimate my abilities so much. I am pretty hot," he added. And then gave her a wink. He had obviously caught her enjoying the view.

Mashing her lips together, Sakura looked out at the water instead.

It was true that Sakura’s golden tan was partly from Ibiza. At least, it had developed there. But what stopped it from fading was the amount of time she had started to spend down at the beach.

"So.... are you just... a beach bum?" she asked one day. Because every time she wandered down here, there he was. Feet up as he scribbled in a journal or listening to bad, compressed music on his shitty speakers. A few times, she found an empty boat. She had waited around for a bit until she got bored enough to dip her feet in the water. Not long after, his dorsal fin sliced through the surface of the water as he swam up to the surface. Webbed fingers tickling against the bottom of her foot.

Kisame smirked, gliding past her in an easy backstroke.

“Says the person also at the beach every day,” he retorted.

"I'm serious," Sakura insisted. Eyebrows rising, Kisame stopped swimming. His silvery tail moved him closer to her with a few lazy movements. He pointed toward his boat.

"You have a boat. Great," she remarked in a flat voice. He chuckled. His webbed hand was cool as he rested it on her calf. And it wasn't slimy like she had expected. 

"No, go look inside," he told her. Sakura eyed him, but he looked completely serious. Heaving a sigh, she got to her feet, wet footprints painting the pier as she walked. And Kisame lowered most of his face into the water as he followed after her. 

The inside of Kisame's boat was sparse. Just the bare necessities. A cup of coffee still sat on the narrow table bolted into the wall. There was a frying pan in the sink, along with what looked like last night's dishes. 

"What am I looking for?" Sakura yelled. There was no response.  She stood in the middle of the cabin, looking over his unmade bed and the bag of laundry overflowing next to it. 

Something caught her eye.

At the front of the boat was some kind of console with a big steering wheel. She didn't touch any of the buttons or levers. But on the wall right beside the wheel were some black frames along with some photos stuck up with tape.

The first was a picture of Kisame standing on a boat. He held up a fish, showing off a missing tooth as he smiled. That was very cute. But not very informative. The second was one of him in the water. Flippers sticking out as he held onto a life preserver ring. His stripes were much darker here- almost black.

Sakura's eyes popped open as she moved on to the frames.

"You have a Ph.D?" she exclaimed.

There was a splash. And then Kisame laughed.

The next frame was a page torn from a magazine. At the top was a photo of Kisame crouching next to a battered chest. He gave a cheesy thumbs up. When she squinted she could make out something about him recovering-

"1 million dollars in sunken treasure?" she shouted. This time, she ran out of the boat. 

Kisame rested his elbows on the pier, his sleek lower body stretched out behind him. He smiled.

“You’re a treasure hunter?” Sakura demanded.

“I prefer.... anthropologist with dope-ass diving skills,” corrected Kisame. 

Sakura frowned as she considered that. Lower lip sticking out. Kisame watched her expression. Carefully. 

“Where’d you find treasure like that?” she questioned.

Kisame wagged his finger at her. “I’ll only tell you if you stay for dinner.”

What started as hour-long visits began to stretch out longer and longer.

Sakura found that spending a few hours in the sun still helped keep her mind fresh when it was time to work. But she was also inspired by Kisame's stories of diving into deep caves. Sifting through old bones and wreckages to recover shining treasure. Venturing into the darkness with just a headlamp to pull old swords and cups from the sand.

"How long can you stay out of the water for?" she asked. Because she was curious. She had never had a chance to ask these sorts of things before. And maybe it was the anthropologist side of Kisame coming through. But he never seemed annoyed by her questions.

"If I drink lots of water, a couple days? I get headaches and I feel sick if I start drying out," replied Kisame. A glint appeared in his eyes as he considered her.

"Actually, I wanna show you something. Didn't you say you would come swimming with me someday?" he reminded her.

Head disappearing beneath the waves, he swam past her. The surface of his tail felt surprisingly rough. Almost like sandpaper. 

She had learned that there were different species of merpeople. There were some who stuck together in schools. But sharks, like him, were solitary monsters. He had been all around the world- as long as the waters were warm enough for him.

Kisame circled around her one more time, his hands skimming against her calves. “Can’t swim?” he guessed.  

She started when he slapped a hand down on either side of her thighs. He hoisted himself out of the water, grinning at her. Water dripped onto her legs as she stared down at him.

“I can,” she insisted. And then she eyed him. Especially his pointed teeth. “I’ve heard all the stories. I’m not stupid enough to let a merman pull me into open water,” she scoffed.

Kisame laughed. “Those stories are super-exaggerated. We don’t eat people unless we have to.”

And his eyes glittered as he added, “Besides, you’re not human.”

And Sakura was reminded that he wasn't either a few days later.

She kicked a little wave of water in his direction. The droplets sprayed his face. And he dropped the crab he'd been examining. The sharp little claws waved helplessly in the air until it hit the water. Where it sank down. Deeper and deeper until it fell out of sight.

"How'd you even find me?" she asked.

Kisame swam a few strokes toward her. Stopped to tap his nose.

"I smelled you. In the water," he replied. As if it was normal to be able to smell other people. And then he added, "You don't smell bad", as if to assure her.

Scowling, Sakura aimed another kick of water at him.

If she came early enough in the morning, Kisame would let her get onto the boat with him. The engine thrumming under her feet as he steered her away from the pier, out into the bay. And then she sat at the stern, staring after him when he dove in. His rippling tail and sharp fins disappearing into the darkness as he went deeper and deeper. Sometimes he snuck back up to nip at her toes, just to laugh at her angry expression.

Most of the things he found were junk. Old bottles. Bits of glass rubbed smooth by the sand and waves. Occasionally, he found the odd watch that had been lost in the water. The hands frozen how they'd been pointing when the batteries finally died.

On one of the excursions, Sakura looked up when she heard a splash. His fin stuck out of the water as he swam up to her. Even that had stopped startling her as much. But that didn't seem to be his goal this time. He dropped black lumps onto the boat. They were hard- clattering and bouncing against each other.

"What are-" Before Sakura could finish her question, he dove back down. Sakura pinched one between her fingers to examine it. It looked like an oyster.

The second time he surfaced, Kisame dropped off more of his loot. And then he leaned his elbow on the boat, panting a little.

"I didn't know we even had oysters out here," Sakura commented. And then she let him catch his breath. The folds of his gills flattened shut on the sides of his neck.

"Yeah. Me neither," replied Kisame.  

Sakura averted her eyes as Kisame hauled himself onto the boat. When she heard the wet slap of his feet against the floor, she covered her eyes with her hands. She had made the mistake of looking once and had received... an eyeful.

"You know, it doesn't bother me," he laughed at her. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, Sakura blindly slapped at him with her hand.

"It bothers me! Cover your junk!" Sakura insisted. She heard him laughing harder as he headed inside the cabin to slip on a pair of swim trunks.

As July faded into August, Sakura found her tan darkening and her collection of misshapen pearls growing. Sometimes she brought her laptop with her and worked on Kisame's boat. She released a few summer-themed tracks that made Madara shower her with praise.

"Hey there, beach babe," Ino greeted her when she walked into the cafe.

Sakura had always dressed light in the summer. Shorts and a crop top. Maybe a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Not like she was trying to hide her tan. Her hair had also lightened a little from all the time in the sun.

Ino whistled. "You look like you're having fun. I hear you've been buddy-buddy with Jaws," she then commented, sly smile on her face. Sakura rolled her eyes at her.

"What? Are you jealous?" retorted Sakura.

"Of him, yeah. When do I get to catch up with you and Tenten? Maybe we can get someone to babysit the kids and Hana can come too. You think Kiba’s free?" Ino suggested.

Later that afternoon, Sakura ran into Kiba. Not on purpose, though. Kakashi had an important meeting with a police commissioner. Or was it a commander? Either way, he would be busy at dinner and had asked her to feed and walk his dogs during his short absence.

"I can't ask anyone else because they're..." Kakashi trailed off.

"Little monsters. I know," Sakura finished the thought for him. And then, rubbing Bull under the ears, Sakura kissed the big dog on the forehead. "It's okay. I still love you, Bully-wully," she added.

So as she exited Kakashi's house, she turned to wave. All the dogs stood at the windowsill to watch her leave. Pakkun yapped, probably asking for her to return. Biscuit gave her the saddest, most betrayed look in the world. But she knew that Kakashi would be home soon, so she tried not to feel guilty.

“Hey there. The Sheriff home?"

Sakura turned, already beaming at Kiba. His tool belt was still slung around his hips. There was some kind of powder smudged on his arm.

"Nah. I'm just making sure the dogs got dinner," Sakura told him as she brushed his arm off.

"Oh, thanks. But also, crap. Guess I'll ask him tomorrow," muttered Kiba.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, taking a few steps toward him.

Kiba nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Just one of my buddies is arguing with his neighbor about a fence. Thought I'd have him come mediate before it gets ugly." He glanced down at his watch and huffed.

"Shit," he muttered.

“If you’re busy, you should head back. Maybe you can text Kakashi and have him meet you later,” Sakura urged him. She wasn't even surprised when Kiba hugged her. Nuzzling against her top of her head, her cheek. Scratching her with his facial hair despite her complaints. And then he was sniffing at her neck. The breath from his nostrils tickling against her skin.

"Kiba, quit it," Sakura scolded when she felt him nudging more and more insistently. Breaths touching her ear, tickling at the nape of her neck.

"You smell really good," he murmured. Voice thrumming out of him way deeper than she expected.

Sakura tapped his cheek a few times. Kiba lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were a little hazy, like they'd been when they'd first met. But when he blinked a few times, they cleared. He smiled like he always did.

"Sorry. Wolf-brain, I guess," he apologized.

"....Yeah... I guess," she replied.

After nagging, and promising that she would be completely safe, Kisame persuaded Sakura to visit his secret location. He didn't reveal much about specifics.

"It's not like I can't swim. I just can't swim like you," Sakura reminded him on the big day. He had taken his boat out into the water and dropped anchor. He dove in first, feet growing and morphing into big fins. Webbing between his fingers growing and fusing together.

Kisame's eyes trailed over her bikini in a way that she didn't exactly hate. But when he met her gaze again, she knew that he had been listening. Because he held both his hands out to her.

"I got you," he promised.

He warned her to take a deep breath before he pulled her under the surface. At first, she kept her eyes squeezed shut. Her arms wrapped around his middle as he dragged them deeper and deeper. And even though his body always felt cool to her, he was warm in comparison to the water all around them. Sakura opened her eyes when she felt a tap on her arm.

It was darker than she had expected. When she looked up, she could see the surface. Light blue and wavering. Sunlight cutting through the waves at an angle. When she looked back to Kisame, she saw him pointing ahead. At something she couldn’t quite make out in the darkness.

This time, Sakura kept her eyes open as Kisame continued swimming. She realized that he didn't even need to use his arms to swim. He kept both of them wrapped around her as his tail propelled them in powerful movements. And the speed at which he moved reminded her of why shark movies had always terrified her as a kid.

She hadn't realized that there was so much life in the seemingly still waters. There were tangled plants growing from the sand. Discarded tires and crates served as homes for the little fish that darted all around. Every once in a while, Sakura glimpsed a bigger fish that flashed by. Silver scales gleaming as they dodged Kisame.

It took her a little while to realize that the big walls of rock ahead were likely what lay under the beach. She could imagine them sloping up and up to form the cliffs. And on top of those cliffs would be the town. She hadn't realize how high up her home really sat. Not until she could see this.

After another minute, it was her turn to tap Kisame on the arm. Cheeks puffing out, she pointed at herself. Then at his gills. Kisame's eyes widened as she repeated the gestures. She tilted her head to look up at the surface. She hadn't realized that this would require holding her breath for so long. Her chest was beginning to feel really tight and uncomfortable.

Sakura felt Kisame grasp her chin. His mouth covered hers. But before she could get angry, she felt him take her hand and bring it to his gills. She almost flinched away when she felt them suck in the water. And then she felt Kisame exhale against her mouth, the bubbles spilling past her lips, up to the surface in a rush.

She parted her lips. When Kisame exhaled, oxygen rushed into her mouth, down into her lungs. As he removed his mouth, Sakura scowled. She hit him on the arm. He mouthed 'sorry' before he continued on.

Soon, they reached an opening in the wall of stone. It was large- big enough for several people to swim in at once. As they entered the gap, it was even darker than the water around them. Sakura grimaced, hoping that she wouldn't knock into anything. But Kisame guided them well. Until, without warning, Sakura's head broke the surface of the water. She gulped down the sudden air, wiping the water out of her eyes.

She spat the saltwater out of her mouth, blinking hard.

"Sorry. I forgot that people can't hold their breath for shit. Man, you guys are worse than walruses," Kisame said right away.

"You ass!" Sakura coughed, hitting him again. She connected with what felt like his shoulder.

Still, she didn't struggle as she felt his arms around her waist. He lifted her out of the water and onto a solid surface. Wet rock, a little rough, but more comfortable than treading nonstop.

"I thought you wanted to show me something. Is what you were trying to show me darkness?" Sakura asked.  Pushing her hair out of her face.

"Look more to your right," replied Kisame.

She followed the sound of his voice. And to her surprise, there was a blue glow. Like a pattern of constellations on the cave wall. Followed by a faint pattern of lines, almost like...

The light moved.

"Oh my god. You glow in the dark," Sakura realized. She held her hands out. He lowered his arm into her grasp. She traced her pointer finger along the patterns in his skin.

Kisame cleared his throat. "Anyway, this is real nice, but the main attraction is actually up there," he told her.

Sakura couldn't see where he was pointing, but she still looked up. And then she saw his arm begin to glow a bit brighter. Just enough to illuminate the stalactites. Like jagged, yellowish icicles dripping from above. Kisame waved his arm to show her that the whole ceiling was covered with them.

"Wow," Sakura breathed. Her hand still resting on his arm. For balance, she told herself.

"Found this place not long after I came here. Isn't it cool?" he said in her ear.

"Yeah."

"I think... probably not recently, but you might've had a pod of mers down here. Maybe nurse sharks," he added. Her head whipped around to look at him. Well, at his glowing silhouette.

"How do you know?"

"Our pups are born without gills. They need to breathe air. So you'll usually find merpeople nesting in underwater caves like this," explained Kisame.

"Which is why I did that before. Our gills grow in after a couple months. When we're learning to use them, our moms show us how they work. Like that," he added.

Sakura found herself much less annoyed. She looked back down at his arm still sitting in her lap. She could feel his other hand just beside her leg, resting on the wet stone.

She followed the pattern of blue dots. Up his bicep. His shoulder. The luminous path of speckles and lines that went up the sides of his neck. The little points of light were even on his face, she realized. Along his cheek bones and even on his forehead, almost like freckles.

"But.... I'll admit, I'm not mad that I had an excuse to kiss you," Kisame told her.

Kisame pulled his arm from her grasp. She could hear a splash as he moved. Now his elbows were on either side of her. And the sounds of his breaths came a little closer. The faint, almost-heat of his body. Moving closer and closer. Until she felt the craggy wall of the cave against her back. Damp and cool. She hadn't even realized that she had been leaning back.

His mouth found hers in the darkness so easily. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she realized that he must be able to see in the dark. Not like any of that mattered as he grasped her chin. His other hand sliding down to rest on the small of her back. The sharpness of his teeth almost-hurting her lips- but not-quite.

Water sloshed against her thighs as she shifted. His chest pressing to hers. The roughness of his tail brushing against her leg. And his hand left her face, trailing down her neck, her shoulder, wrapping around her hip.

It felt so good that when he drew back, she grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking him toward her again. Tongue sliding against his, fingers sliding into his wet hair. Pulling him closer until her eyes flew open.

Sakura pushed him away.

She was soaked and cold. And all she could think of was Tobirama bathed in the balmy island heat. Smiling like a kid as he asked her to marry him. More pangs of pain and guilt as she thought of moonlit walks with Kakashi and his dogs. Making faces at Itachi as they split desserts served in mason jars. Of Kiba showing up with takeout and the smile that asked for nothing more.

The guilt had always sat there. Somewhere in the back of her head. But cuddling and holding hands felt like a line she could tread without going too far. In the end, if it went no further than that, no one could really blame her. Or point their fingers at her and say she was just like her mother. Fickle. Playing with people's hearts without a care in the world.

This was different. 

Sakura shivered, rubbing her hands against the sides of her neck.

“I want to leave,” she declared, trying to keep her voice steady.

And then Kisame's voice, echoing a little in the cave, said, “...Okay.” He moved away from her. There was a big splash. Water rushed over her thighs.

When she looked up, she saw the shape of Kisame's hand, dappled with light. And she thought she might have seen his eyes gleaming in the dark.

“I’ll take you back. Promise,” he told her. When she slipped her hand into his, it still felt a little warm. He squeezed her fingers, waiting for her to take a big breath before he pulled her underwater.

This time, Kisame took her straight up to the surface. And then he began pulling her in the direction of his white boat. It bobbed on the waves. She could see the sky beginning to turn purple near the horizon. The sun would be setting soon.

When they were close enough, Kisame released her. Sakura swam a few strokes until she reached the boat. While she grasped the metal rungs and climbed aboard, Kisame hung back. Lower half of his face submerged under the waves. She turned her back to him, pretending to be busy wringing out her hair as he climbed aboard too. He returned a little while later to drape a towel over her.

"Let's get you home," he said.

He started up the motor. Sakura stayed on the back of the boat as it headed in the direction of the shore. She found her phone and bag sitting where she had left them. A couple of texts were waiting for her. She answered them with the usual array of cute emojis. Trying to ignore how her stomach was twisting and tying itself into knots.

When they returned back to the lonely pier, Kisame did his usual thing. Dropping an anchor into the water. Going through the steps that Sakura knew to expect, but couldn't put a name to. He disappeared back inside, towel still draped around his neck.

By the time Kisame came back out to the back of the boat, the sun had begun sinking. Sky bleeding red and orange. Pretty. 

Kisame sighed as he sat down beside her. Not close enough that she felt uncomfortable. Neither of them said anything as the sky grew darker and darker. The waves began to change, too. Colors fading until they were almost black. The place where the sky met the ocean was dark blue, the lines smudging together.

“Did I scare you?" was the first thing Kisame managed to ask.

"Mm... not really you," Sakura said.

And she was glad she could see his face now. Because when he glanced at her, he was smiling like he usually did.

"Full disclosure, I guess," Sakura sighed, looking down at her hands. He didn't say anything.

"I've... kind of got someone. I don't know what he is to me. And... actually, he's not even the only..." she trailed off. "This is way too complicated," she added in a small voice.

She rubbed her hands over her face before she suddenly looked at him. "I mean, you're hot. So, normally I'd have no problem doing... y'know..." Sakura fumbled for words again.

"Thanks for thinking I'm hot, I guess."

Sakura laughed a little. And that made Kisame relax a little. He knocked his fist against his knee a couple times as he stared ahead. Like he was thinking.

“Y'know... I actually did bring you out there just to show you the cave. I'm realizing now that it probably felt... ulterior-motive...y,” Kisame thought out loud.

"It wasn't ulterior-motivey. It was nice until..." she trailed off. The only sound was Kisame scratching his cheek.

"This is like high school all over again," he muttered. They let out a few weak chuckles. "But, then again, that was a while ago. I shouldn't use that as an excuse," Kisame amended. He looked over at her. She could feel him study her face.

“Am I older than you? You’re, like, what, 22.... 23?”

“"Almost thirty,” she corrected him.

He let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Now I don't feel like an old man. And also damn. Thank your mom for those good genes,” he remarked.

Sakura laughed without smiling.

Kisame rubbed the back of his neck. He sighed.

“Sorry. Kind of ruined your night, huh?” she apologized.

Kisame’s hand fell into his lap. And when he looked over at her, he was smiling. “Nah.” He crossed his ankle over his knee.

It felt like they'd run out of things to say for now. Sakura got to her feet. Retrieving her bag, she pulled her clothes over her still-wet bikini. It was a little uncomfortable, but preferable to running home in next-to-nothing. She stuck her feet into her sandals before she stepped onto the pier.

“Hey.”

Sakura turned around. She saw Kisame standing on the back of his boat now. He motioned for her to come closer. She took a couple of steps toward him. He tucked her hair behind her ear. It must have been sticking out. She smoothed over it with her own fingers, copying his movement.

“I’m glad you told me. Don’t be sorry,” he told her.

And he stood there on the back of his houseboat. Leaning against the railing as he watched her walk up the beach. Up to the wooden walkway that would take her back to town. And when she glanced back, he waved at her.

Sakura spent the next day really thinking. She pretended that she was working. She had a conference call with Madara and a few people. She sent some emails and listened to a few demos sent her way. But all the while, she knew that there was something- or rather, someone- that she had to stop avoiding.

That afternoon, she decided to text Tobirama.

Tobirama’s car purred like a small plane engine when he pulled into her driveway that evening. Right next to her little sedan. It amazed her how he just showed up. No complaints about the traffic. No excuses about how he was busy. It somehow made her guilt a million times worse as she watched him climb out of his car and walk up the gravel path.

He carried an enormous bouquet. Beautiful flowers in bright pink and creamy white. They smelled so sweet. She couldn't help but bury her nose in them, giggling when the pollen touched the tip of her nose.

“Oh. These are... wow. These are so pretty,” she breathed, rubbing the pollen off on the back of her hand. And without thinking, she rose on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck. And she saw the way that he automatically leaned down toward her. They both froze as their lips touched.

Tobirama drew back, left hand clenching at his side. “Sorry. I forgot. Shit,” he immediately said.

Sakura pressed her fingers to her lips, shaking her head. “I forgot, too. It’s not your fault,” she assured him.

He stood on her porch, one hand in his pocket. Looking anywhere but at her. And she hesitated to invite him inside. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she thought.

It wasn’t fair to him, she decided. She reached out to touch the back of his hand. He finally looked at her.

“Come inside, Tobirama. I need to tell you some things,” she told him.

[larpgourmet]

20 Things Under $20 for Eating at LARP

For this post, I’m offering you 20 items that are each under $20! These items will help you stay fed and hydrated at game. These could be anything from at home food prep items to stuff that makes it easier when you’re on location. The links will all be to Amazon — but Amazon is very much not the only place to purchase these items! Be sure to shop at your favorite retailer or maker!

1. Plastic Wine Bottles

This is easily the best way to carry water at game -- and so very cheap! At $13 for four bottles, you don’t even have to worry if you accidentally break or ruin one. Be sure to make labels for yours for easy identification, as I’m starting to see these show up more often to games!

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00VGIRMY2/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o07_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

2. Bottle Holder for your Plastic Wine Bottle

The bottle of water doesn’t do you any good if it’s not on your person! Carry one around on your belt, and make sure it’s full at all times! You can pick one of these up for just under $10.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0161RB0PE/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o02_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

3. Pint Sized Mason Jars I used these for the DIY Ramen recipe -- they’re about $9 for two -- and the Ball brand is pretty much the standard in Mason Jars. These are also available at my grocery store. I will say -- don’t buy craft mason jars for cooking, get mason jars that are intended for canning or pickling. Craft jars may not be food safe, and they certainly won’t be as durable. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01NBMPHYV/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o05_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

4. Half-Pint Mason Jars I used these for the Summer Porridge recipes. I intentionally got them in a different color so I could spot them more easily in my cooler vs. the Pint Mason Jars. The size difference is a dead give away -- but let’s be honest, I get tired at games and will take any help I can get. These come in at about $8 - $10 for four, and are also available at my grocery store. As I said above -- be sure to get real Mason Jars made for pickling or canning, avoid the craft jars! https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01AAHHB9A/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o05_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

5. Digital Food Scale Honestly, this is the best way to make sure you’re making and eating the right portion sizes. Weigh your pasta! Weigh your cheese. You can usually find a decent one on Amazon for about $15 -- it’s worth the cost! https://www.amazon.com/Digital-Kitchen-Scale-Food-Multifunction/dp/B01JTDG084/ref=sxin_2_ac_d_pm?keywords=digital+food+scale&pd_rd_i=B01JTDG084&pd_rd_r=327fdc70-48ae-4f36-89b9-307fd8a5f67a&pd_rd_w=Jn4SF&pd_rd_wg=F0vXT&pf_rd_p=be5d8dec-444e-4770-91df-1e16a8c46da8&pf_rd_r=BQMZZ6A47QGMZGW6Q2WV&qid=1563293628&s=gateway

6. Individual Coffee Creamer / Half and Half Don’t fight with bringing and cooling a bottle of creamer. Go ahead and splurge on the individual packets. You can get a HUGE box for about $20, and they last forever. Just don’t take the whole box with you to every LARP, as the frequent temperature variances between your house, and the game site can cause the creamer to turn. https://www.amazon.com/COFFEE-MATE-Creamer-Original-creamer-singles/dp/B01LWSOYE2/ref=sr_1_1?fpw=pantry&keywords=Carnation+Half+and+Half+Liquid+Creamer+Singles%2C+180+Count&qid=1563293721&s=pantry&sr=8-1&srs=7301146011

7. Better than Bouillon Base I don’t tend to like to buy broth or stock for the house, it goes stale more quickly than I can use it. Instead, I get this stuff! It’s about $5 - $7 at the grocery store for 1 pot, and that pot lasts forever. I use it in place of demi-glace or stocks and broths. It adds a lot of flavor to dishes, and keeps really well in the refrigerator. https://www.amazon.com/Better-Than-Bouillon-Beef-Vegetarian/dp/B01N3SGPCJ/ref=sr_1_1_sspa?crid=3R7U1I42PBOY&keywords=better+than+boullion+vegetable+base&qid=1563293986&s=gateway&sprefix=Better+than+Boullion+vegeta%2Caps%2C185&sr=8-1-spons&psc=1&smid=A1B7M9EQGNCLQA 8. Acacia Wood Plate Plates can be super hard to find for game. I personally love the Acacia Wood plates available on Amazon! For about $10 - $15 (depending on what you can get for shipping) these look great, and mine’s held up for over two years now with no signs of stopping. It’s got a nice, smooth top also -- so it’s easy to clean!

As a side note to this recommendation, and the three that follow -- I never recommend getting disposable items. There’s a lot of arguments that can be made for the environment, etc -- but let me give you two far more selfish arguments to be made for real flatware and serving ware:

First the disposable stuff always looks like crap. They’ll be glaring problems in any photos taken of you, or your camp site. Secondly -- you will be annoyed trying to eat off disposable items. They’re flimsy, they break easy, they can’t handle heat or moisture well, they don’t cut food properly... Essentially, do yourself a favor. Get the real deal. It’s a single investment that you won’t regret.

https://www.amazon.com/Pacific-Merchants-K0051-Acaciaware-7-Inch/dp/B001TH898S?ref_=bl_dp_s_web_3037821011

9. Simple Flatware Set I use a real iron flatware set, but I’ve been thinking of switching over to something a little more modern. The problem with iron is that it’s very difficult to take care of, and it flavors your food when you eat with it. (Iron flavored oatmeal is not what I was going for!) Getting something like this (that you won’t be upset if you lose a piece) is one of the best solutions. Get something simple with classic lines, and they’ll fit right in with any aesthetic. These are $15 for 2 sets of flatware.

https://www.amazon.com/Silverware-far-10-Piece-Stainless-Dishwasher/dp/B07H95LNFY/ref=sxin_0_ac_d_pm?keywords=flatware+set&pd_rd_i=B07H95LNFY&pd_rd_r=7802e2d7-43af-47cf-be11-16cdedab824f&pd_rd_w=mxkiq&pd_rd_wg=fzSdd&pf_rd_p=be5d8dec-444e-4770-91df-1e16a8c46da8&pf_rd_r=HZEKHRTQ7VSXY11YQETN&qid=1563294327&s=gateway

10. Wooden Bowl A lot of people source these out of second hand stores. Bowls are way easier to find than flatware and plates. But if you’re looking to buy one brand new -- I’ve got a link below. Pay special attention to the size of the bowls, try to get yourself something in the 6 - 8 inch range. A new one will run you about $17 -- but second hand stores have these a lot for only a couple of bucks!  https://www.amazon.com/Rusticity-Wood-Serving-Bowl-Handmade/dp/B01D55Z5BK/ref=sr_1_55_sspa?keywords=wooden+bowl&qid=1563294468&s=gateway&sr=8-55-spons&psc=1

11. Wooden Mug Avoid. Metal. Mugs. Anytime you try to drink a hot drink out of a metal mug you will understand why I’m making this statement. Get yourself something wood that’s made for both hot and cold drinks, and you’ll be much, much happier. Wooden mugs also insulate your drink a little better than metal, so your drink stays tastier longer. For usually about $15 you can get something serviceable for a good hot cup of coffee, or a can of soda. The one below fits about 12 ounces, and is designed for hot drinks as well. If you want something more unique, or of a larger size -- hit up a ren faire, but be prepared to pay for the better craftsmanship! 

https://www.amazon.com/Handmade-Wooden-Coffee-Unique-Glasses/dp/B07GWB6R3P/ref=sr_1_30?keywords=wooden+mug&qid=1563294945&s=gateway&sr=8-30

12. Leather Mug Belt Strap This one is kind of a gimme -- but is worth adding to the list. These are available EVERYWHERE. Chances are, someone at your game makes them! You can usually get one for under $10. Things to look for: Get something that closes securely, but can be opened with one hand. (I like snaps or the latch closures). Get real leather! Cloth or vinyl will fall apart too quickly. Get something with wide enough loops for your cup or mug. https://www.amazon.com/Leather-Tankard-Medieval-HandMade-Renaissance/dp/B06XWKT3JM/ref=sr_1_6?keywords=leather+mug+belt+strap&qid=1563296122&s=gateway&sr=8-6

13. Electric Tea Kettle Hot water is the name of the game at gathering. With it, you can make instant coffee, hot tea, cocoa, ramen noodles, sous vide, or fill a hot water bottle to warm up your bed at night. For $15, you can get a good cheap one that plugs into a wall outlet, and won’t necessitate you having a camp stove. 

https://www.amazon.com/Ovente-KP72W-BPA-Free-Protection-Indicator/dp/B00DEQDEZA/ref=sr_1_10?keywords=electric+tea+kettle&qid=1563295222&s=gateway&sr=8-10

14. Stovetop Tea Kettle In case you have no electricity at your site, but you tend to bring a camp stove with you -- this is your other option. These will run you about $13 - $15. You want one that’s metal and has a whistle feature, if possible!

https://www.amazon.com/Alpine-Cuisine-Mirror-Finish-Stainless-Compatible/dp/B00KUW3R2G/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=stovetop+tea+kettle&qid=1563295507&s=gateway&sr=8-2

15. Paper Teabags for Loose Leaf Tea If you’re like me, tea is your lifeblood. But making loose leaf tea at game can be a time consuming venture, especially when it comes to clean up. Make your life easier! For $5 -- turn your loose leaf tea into little bags you can just throw away after brewing. 

https://www.amazon.com/FILTERS-Disposable-Infuser-Serving-Filters/dp/B00S8XOL88/ref=sr_1_1_sspa?keywords=tea+bags+for+loose+tea&qid=1563295996&s=gateway&sr=8-1-spons&psc=1

16. Sterno Stove If you’re short on space, and you don’t want to worry about propane stoves, you can always invest in a tiny Sterno Stove. Sterno Stoves don’t get as hot as propane, but they’re much smaller, and easier to cover for LARP immersion. Sterno cans are also pretty cheap! This stove is about $10, and is only about 6.5 inches square, and 5 inches tall. https://www.amazon.com/Coghlans-9957-Folding-Stove/dp/B0007L8108/ref=sr_1_36?keywords=sterno&qid=1563296362&s=gateway&sr=8-36

17. Sterno Cans To go with the above, if you need Sterno cans, they go about $5 for three, and will last about 45 minutes each (good for one per meal). (Side note: if you need to snuff a Sterno can it’s super easy, just toss the lid on top and let the oxygen run out until the fire dies).

https://www.amazon.com/Sterno-20602-Entertainment-Cooking-3-Pack/dp/B07J1JB562/ref=sr_1_18?keywords=sterno&qid=1563296362&s=gateway&sr=8-18

18. Travel Cooler Get yourself the best cooler you can afford at the biggest size you can fit. Your cooler will be your best friend. Don’t try to make due on cheap Styrofoam coolers -- they leak like crazy, they lose a lot of heat, and animals can get into them way too easily. Measure the space in your car where your cooler would go, and start from there. Of anything on your list worth spending more than $20 on, this is it! The better your cooler, the better your stuff will stay cold! But if you need some place to start, here’s a decent cooler for $20! 

https://www.amazon.com/Igloo-Island-Breeze-Cooler-Majestic/dp/B00A1BVQYW/ref=sr_1_14?keywords=cooler&qid=1563297151&s=gateway&sr=8-14

19. Reusable Ice Packs I can’t sing the praises of ice packs enough. They don’t melt into water at the bottom of your cooler, and they’re designed to stay ice as long as possible. Get the largest ones you can fit and afford, as the larger block of ice will take longer to melt. I got a BUNCH from work when we ordered food in, and they were just going to throw the ice packs away. But if that’s not an option for you, then you can buy them online! 

https://www.amazon.com/KoldPacks-Extra-Large-Reusable-Camping/dp/B07RRCK2TS/ref=sr_1_43?keywords=reusable+ice+pack&qid=1563297331&s=gateway&sr=8-43

20. Sous Vide Bag Kit Standard Sous Vide cooking is to put something in a bag and leave it in hot water for 1 - 8 hours. But we can use Sous Vide as a starting place to reheat items for game without needing to make a pot dirty! Put your food in a sous vide bag for transit, then heat it up in your hot water kettle at game. The kit below goes for about $8, and the bags are reusable! So when you’re done heating and eating, just seal the bag back up and toss it with the rest of your kit to be washed when you get home. 

https://www.amazon.com/Reusable-Vacuum-Sealer-Storage-10bags/dp/B07N4GPHD9/ref=sr_1_11_sspa?keywords=sous+vide+bags&qid=1563297465&s=gateway&sr=8-11-spons&psc=1

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In about you must reduce mildew through the carpeting, Additionally you want to keep it from build up all over again. Inside the function the mildew has reached the backing at The underside in the carpeting, it would take considerable work to remove. At the very least, you already know the steps to get to do away with mildew from carpets. Mould has a tendency to return, and Which means you may must repeat your cleaning operations. Alone, mould can lead to an entire host of issues, particularly in young children as well as the aged. Often mould could possibly be attributable to ruined brickwork or leaking pipes with your interior partitions, which ought to be tackled by a specialist. Mould and mildew may be a symptom of a deeper issue, however it won't signify that it's a harmless a person. If you desire to to avoid mould and mildew from at any time coming back, then you'll want to reach The underside of The problem. In case you become aware about mould or mildew in your own home just after a number of months of rain, it could be introduced on by a typical get while in the humidity inside your residence.

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If it's essential to clear away mould from a carpet absolutely, you will have to employ A variety of strategies. You'd likewise do effectively to examine with a specialist in the event you have mould covering a massive region in your own home, If you have mildew within your air ducts, or If you have any respiratory challenges like bronchial asthma That could be created worse by exposure to mold in the cleanup method. The primary reason why mildew is viewed as a concern isn't going to evolve from The easy incontrovertible fact that It is an unattractive sight only, but as an alternative that it poses threats for the health. In case the mildew has developed across a sizable A part of the backing, you'll have to replace the carpeting. Eventually, to generate specific that it is completely absent, You may as well implement just a little oil of cloves within the addressed place. You will be satisfied to are aware that it may additionally remove molds and mildew within the home. There are many of how to halt mold but after it's current, you need to choose measures straight absent. Why it builds up in the toilet is rather very clear. It is crucial which you get rid of the mildew on your carpeting, and never let it hurt your wellbeing.

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Steam will deliver the entire moisture mildew need to expand and prosper. Buying a steamer which is effective adequately is usually hard as there are such lots of steamers to the Market. Flea steamers are among the my chosen methods of doing away with fleas. A flea steamer is a great issue to acquire all around all of the time in case you have pets.

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Adhere to the directions within the item label, because products fluctuate. Carpet cleansing solutions which consist of deodorizers will eliminate the mildewy scent In combination with fighting the mildew by itself. Once you've purchased a dependable brand, it is a blessing to acquire at home to cut off your cleansing time. If you want to make use of a chemical cleansing solution, air flow will reduce the opportunity of irritating your lungs and eyes.

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Dependant on the product, you might have to have entry to a moist vacuum to remove it with the carpet immediately after use. Let's equate the use of infant skin care products by way of solvent cleaners throughout the property. There are various choices for steam cleaners.

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In the event that the carpet is soaked in the backing, not merely the upper fibers, it'd acquire for much longer to dry. It is best to study initial if it's going to get the job finished nicely for the flooring. It is essential that you study what is actually producing damp in your home and choose the right safety measures. It is feasible to scrub nearly almost everything in your house with a steam cleaner.

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