#junk boxes will restock today

[shiftythrifting]

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[stanleypinesgf]

Falling for Mystery - Chapter Eleven*

Falling for Mystery Masterlist Warnings: nsfw (mdni), smut, 18+ only, praise kink, oral (m receiving), light choking, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, stan is possessive in a gooood way, (they drank whiskey but they're not drunk). if i missed any warnings lmk, my first time writing anything like this, i hope y'all enjoy! Please note: this is a slow burn fic with smut and mature themes, 18+ only and please check warnings at the start of chapters! TYSM for all the support so far!!

w/c: 4,647

Some days had passed since we slept together, but things between us were better than ever. The once-awkward balance between work and companionship was slowly giving way to something easier. Mornings were filled with the usual chaos of the Mystery Shack—customers streaming in and out, Stan spinning tales while I manned the counter or sorted through the ever-growing stockpile of bizarre trinkets. We had fallen into a kind of rhythm: work, banter, quiet evenings together on the porch. There was something about those moments after the day's rush, when we’d sit side by side, watching the sky turn colors as the sun dipped below the trees, that made everything feel... well, simpler.

It was different now; instead of the stolen glances and keeping our distance, we would often hold hands, cuddle up, or sometimes Stan would pull me into his lap. He wasn’t one for big displays of affection, but it was the little things, a shoulder bump here, a gruff “You did good today, doll” there. It made me feel like, despite his grumbling and tough exterior, I mattered to him.

Still, even with the comfort of our growing bond, there was something I hadn’t been able to shake: the box of fake IDs.

I hadn’t meant to find them. A few days ago, Stan had asked me to grab a stack of old posters from his office, something about using them to restock the gift shop with "limited edition" Shack memorabilia. I had been in his office before, but never for long enough to look around and take in the contents.

“They’re in the back, on the left shelf, behind all that junk,” he’d grunted, waving me off while he handled some rowdy kids in the gift shop. More than happy to help and get away from the noise, I nodded and went on my way.

I’d gone in, half-expecting to get lost in the clutter. Stan’s office was more like a black hole for random objects; old trinkets, odd tools, boxes stacked haphazardly on top of each other. In all honesty, I wasn’t even sure what he had the office for. Most of the work he did was right in the gift shop and I was his only employee. Mulling over these thoughts, I carried on digging through the dusty trinkets and battered boxes. It was while rummaging through the chaos that I found the smaller cardboard box, tucked away behind a stack of Mystery Shack t-shirts and under a pile of dusty paperwork.

I hadn’t meant to snoop. Honestly, I hadn’t. But curiosity got the better of me, and before I knew it, I was lifting the lid, my breath catching in my throat as I saw what was inside.

Fake IDs. At least five or six of them, each with a different name but the same face—Stan’s face. Stetson Pinefield. Hal Forrester. Steve Pinington. I stared at them, my mind racing. Rumors in town had always swirled about Stan’s shady past, about the "conman days" that no one ever talked about outright, but this... this was more than rumors.

For a long moment, I just stood there, the IDs in my hand, my heart thudding in my chest. What did this mean? Why would Stan need so many fake identities? And why did I feel like I was prying into something I wasn’t supposed to know?

Eventually, I shoved the box back where I found it, grabbed the posters, and hurried out of the office without digging through that box any further, my thoughts a mess.

That had been days ago, and I still hadn’t confronted him about it. Part of me wanted to, needed to, but another part held back. Stan had been nothing but good to me, even if he was rough around the edges. I wasn’t ready to throw all that trust into question, it was still so new to me. 

A knock on my bedroom door pulled me out of my thoughts. Stan’s voice followed, a little too casual. “Hey, you decent in there? I’m not about to walk in on somethin’ I shouldn’t, am I?”

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite the tight knot in my stomach. “Yeah, you’re safe. Come in.”

He stepped in, leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his vest. “So, I’ve been thinkin’... We’ve been workin’ our butts off lately, and, uh, I figured maybe it’s time we take a break. You know, do somethin’ fun. Like a date.”

“A date?” I blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. It had been almost a week since we had slept together, and honestly, I was feeling ready to take things a little further before I found those damn IDs; they had me trapped in my own head again.

“Yeah, you know—dinner, small talk, maybe I don’t act like a complete idiot for once.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me. “Figured I owe ya, considering I keep you holed up working here at the Shack day in, day out. So, whaddya say?”

I smiled, feeling a little warmth push through the nervousness that had been gnawing at me. This was Stan; awkward, rough around the edges, but in his own way, he was trying. And that meant something.

“Alright,” I said softly. “I’d love that; it’s a date.”

Stan’s grin turned smug. “Great! Just make sure you get all dolled up; I wanna have the best-looking date in town.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Dolled up? I don’t know... it’s been a while since I tried that.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “C’mon, you’ll knock it outta the park. Trust me, I know you clean up nice.”

I shifted, feeling a little uncertain. “Yeah, but... what if I overdo it? I’m not exactly used to... y’know, dressing up.”

Stan chuckled, his hand brushing my arm. “Relax. Whatever you wear, you’re gonna look great. Besides,” he added, smirking, “it’s not like I can get any luckier.”

I smiled, a bit shy but feeling reassured. “Alright... I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“You couldn’t if you tried,” he said softly, his grin never fading.

I took a deep breath, smoothing the fabric of the only dress I owned—a simple black number that, while not fancy, clung in all the right places. I’d paired it with my nicest shoes, a pair of slightly scuffed heels that hadn’t seen much action lately. I’d even dusted off some of my nicer makeup, just enough to give myself a bit of colour and added some sparkly earrings for good measure. As I stepped out into the living room, nerves twisting in my stomach, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

Stan’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened, his usual cocky grin fading as he stared at me like he’d never seen me before. He blinked once, then twice, his gaze slowly sweeping over me from head to toe, like he was genuinely speechless.

“Holy—” He let out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look... wow.”

I felt my face flush under his intense stare, suddenly more self-conscious than I’d anticipated. “It’s nothing fancy,” I mumbled, fiddling with the hem of my dress.

“Nothin’ fancy?” Stan’s voice sounded almost hoarse as he stepped closer, still taking me in. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

But then I caught sight of him, and the words I’d been about to say stuck in my throat. He wasn’t in his usual black suit. Instead, he’d gone all out, wearing a light brown jacket over a burgundy shirt, the top few buttons undone just enough to reveal the glint of his gold chail resting against his chest. Paired with light trousers, the whole look somehow made him seem taller, broader, and more effortlessly handsome than I’d ever seen him. I couldn’t help but stare, feeling my breath hitch.

“Stan... you clean up pretty well yourself,” I said softly, my eyes tracing the lines of his suit, lingering on the gold chain that hung so casually beneath his shirt. He looked sharp, and it was suddenly impossible not to feel the pull between us.

He grinned, that familiar spark returning to his eyes. “Told ya I could make an effort when I want to.”

The restaurant he took me to wasn’t anything fancy, but it was a little fancier than Greasy’s. A small place on the edge of town, with white tablecloths and the smell of good food hanging in the air. It was perfect. Stan was in rare form, regaling me with stories about the Shack, the customers, and even a few tall tales about the strange tourists that wandered through Gravity Falls. For a while, it felt easy, like there was nothing weighing us down.

But even as we laughed over our meals, my mind kept drifting back to that box of IDs. Who was Stan, really? And why was he hiding so much? I pushed these thoughts down, determined not to let my own head ruin anything else for me.

Back at the Shack, we settled into the comfortable quiet that had become familiar. Stan leaned against the counter, pouring two small glasses of cheap whiskey. “You want one?”

I nodded, watching him as he handed me a glass, our fingers brushing for a moment. There was that spark again—the unspoken connection that always seemed to hover between us, even in the quietest moments.

We sat down together on the worn couch, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon outside. I sipped my drink, feeling the warmth spread through me, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the IDs, the questions I couldn’t shake.

Stan seemed to notice my silence, glancing over at me. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just... thinking.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he looked away, as if he could sense the questions but wasn’t ready to answer them.

As the night wore on, the air between us remained charged. Not just with the usual tension, but with something else, something unspoken yet heavy. Eventually, I curled up against him, letting his arm drape around me and seeking comfort in the familiarity of his presence. I could feel the warmth radiating from him, enveloping me in a cocoon of safety.

“Hey,” Stan murmured, tilting my chin up gently to meet his gaze. “What’s really on your mind?”

I hesitated, caught in the intensity of his stare. The questions lingered, but in that moment, the space between us felt electric, and I realized I didn’t want to think anymore; I wanted to feel.

“Just you,” I admitted softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His expression shifted, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into something deeper. “Yeah? What about me?”

I leaned closer, drawn in by the gravity of his gaze, my heart racing with anticipation. The warmth of the whiskey in my stomach only heightened the clarity of my feelings; I was here, fully present and aware of the moment.

In that charged silence, I felt the decision wash over me. I wanted this, wanted him. My lips found his in a deep, slow kiss. I rested my forehead against his, gauging his response.

Stan’s breath hitched as he closed the distance once again, his lips capturing mine in a hungrier kiss. It was as if all the tension, all the unsaid words, poured into that moment, igniting a fire that had been simmering just below the surface for days.

I melted against him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss, exploring with a mixture of urgency and tenderness. The world around us faded away; all that mattered was the taste of whiskey on his lips, the warmth of his body against mine, and the way he made me feel alive.

Stan pulled back slightly, his breath warm against my skin as he searched my eyes for any sign of hesitation. A flicker of uncertainty danced in his gaze, but it quickly turned into a more daring spark. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting, “do you want to maybe head to my room for a bit? Only if you wanted to. I just thought... we could keep this going.” His teasing grin was there, but the way he looked at me was earnest, making it clear he wanted to gauge my feelings before moving forward.

I felt a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness, but I nodded, biting my lip. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He flashed that signature smirk, and I couldn’t help but return it as he took my hand, leading me through the dimly lit hallway. As we reached his room, I was surprised by how tidy it was. His clothes neatly folded, the bed made, and even a faint scent of something fresh lingering in the air. It was a side of Stan I hadn't seen before, and it made my heart race just a little faster.

As we stepped into his room, the warmth from our earlier kisses lingered in the air. The soft light from a lamp cast gentle shadows across the walls, making the space feel almost cozy, a stark contrast to the bustling chaos of the Shack. I took in the little details, the framed posters of oddities he’d collected over the years, the quirky knickknacks scattered on shelves. I felt a sense of intimacy settle over us.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” I said, trying to keep the mood light, but the tension crackled just beneath the surface.

Stan chuckled, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his demeanor as he glanced around. “Yeah, I don’t usually let it get this tidy. Guess I wanted to make a good impression.”

His honesty caught me off guard, and I took a small step closer, drawn in by the moment. “You definitely did,” I replied softly, our eyes locking again, and in that instant, the world outside faded away.

The air felt thick with unspoken words, and I could see the flicker of desire in Stan’s eyes, mirrored by my own feelings. He took another step forward, closing the distance between us until there was barely any space left. “I... I really like being here with you,” he murmured, his voice husky.

“Me too,” I breathed, my heart pounding as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin.

With a shared, silent understanding, we both leaned in, the kiss rekindling with a newfound urgency. My hands found their way to the back of his neck as he pulled me closer, our bodies fitting together perfectly. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, and I could feel the heat radiating between us, amplifying every pulse of longing in my chest.

When we finally broke apart, both of us slightly breathless, Stan’s eyes searched mine again, looking for confirmation. “You’re still sure about this?” he asked, his brow slightly furrowed with concern, as if he wanted to make absolutely certain I was okay.

I nodded, feeling bold and exhilarated. “I am.”

He smiled at that, a mix of relief and joy washing over his features. Without breaking eye contact, he guided me further into the room, his hands resting on my waist. The moment felt electric, a dance of anticipation and desire as we explored the boundaries of our connection.

As the tension thickened, I felt a surge of confidence. I took his hand, guiding it gently to my neck, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down my spine. “I trust you,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

His breath hitched, and I could see the heat in his eyes ignite.

“Fuck,” he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. “You really know how to push my buttons, don’t you?” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin. “But if we’re gonna play like this, we need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

I felt a thrill at his words, drawing me in even deeper. “What do you mean?”

He held my gaze, his voice dipping into a husky whisper. “I wanna take charge, but I also want you to feel safe. Let’s set a safe word, somethin’ we can use if things get too intense. How about ‘pinecone’?”

A laugh escaped my lips, and I nodded, the absurdity of it only adding to the excitement. “Pinecone it is.”

“Good girl,” he said, his eyes darkening with desire as he tightened his grip slightly, his thumb brushing along my collarbone. “Now, let’s see just how far we can take this.”

With that, he leaned in again, capturing my lips with his, and the world around us faded away, leaving only the heat and hunger between us. As his hands roamed my body, I felt a rush of confidence surge through me.

“Stan,” I breathed, pulling back just enough to catch his gaze. “I want you.”

A smirk played on his lips, and he leaned closer, his voice low and sultry. “You think you can handle it? I wanna see you down on your knees for me. Show me how much you want it.”

My heart raced at his words. The thrill of his command sent a shiver down my spine. I nodded, my breath hitching in anticipation. Slowly, I sank to my knees, feeling the power shift between us.

Stan’s gaze was intense, filled with approval and desire. “That’s it. Just like that. You look so pretty on your knees for me,” he praised, his voice dripping with lust. “Now, take your time. I wanna feel every bit of you.”

Slowly, I unbuckled his belt, pulling down his trousers and boxers, peppering his thighs with kisses. His bedroom was lighter than mine, and I found myself wide-eyed at his size. My mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock, and with a deep breath, I licked a stripe from the base to the tip. His hands flew to my hair, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back as he sucked in a sharp breath. I leaned in, my lips brushing against his tip as I took him in my mouth, savoring the taste and the moment as I started slowly bobbing my head.

“Just like that,” he encouraged, his fingers tangling in my hair. “You’re doin’ so well. I knew you would be so good for me.”

I looked up at him through my lashes, meeting his gaze, resulting in a low, drawn-out moan from Stan that shot straight to my cunt. He noticed me squirming, desperate for any friction I could get.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down my spine. “Lift that dress for me.”

I hesitated for a moment, but the intensity in his gaze urged me on. Slowly, I raised my dress, exposing my thighs, and I could see the hunger in his eyes grow.

“Now, I want you to touch yourself, over your panties,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laced with desire. “Show me how much you want this.”

I felt a rush of heat as I obeyed, my fingers brushing against the damp fabric as I took his cock deeper and deeper. The thrill of his gaze made me wetter by the second, and I could hear his breath quicken when I moaned around him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, leaning back slightly, his eyes never leaving me. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this. Just for me.”

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I let out a soft gasp, my fingers moving with more urgency. Stan watched intently, the tension between us thickening as I surrendered to the moment, lost in the sensations and his commanding presence. I had newfound confidence, taking his cock all the way to the back of my throat, earning a higher and more desperate moan from him. His fingers tensed in my hair, tugging at my scalp in a way that felt delicious.

“Fuck, baby, I won’t last if you keep on like that,” he panted, ragged and urgent.

He pulled me to my feet and straight into a frenzied kiss. He walked me back toward the bed and almost threw me onto it. His careful demeanor from the other night was a mere ghost; Stan was filled with desperation and passion, and it was driving me wild.

“Arms up, doll, let’s get this off,” he panted, helping me out of my dress. He lay me back, making quick work of pulling my underwear off and getting started on his shirt buttons.

He caged me in underneath his large frame, arms either side of my head, his gold medallion dangling in my face. In the heat of the moment, I opened my mouth, allowing the cool metal to drop onto my tongue, closing my lips around it.

“You’re so filthy, doll; you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he breathed before sucking a dark purple hickey onto my collarbone.

“Keep it in your mouth for me, like a good girl,” he growled.

I moaned around his medallion, arching my back as he continued licking, biting, and sucking all the spots that drove me wild. His fingers dipped down between my folds.

“Shit, you’re soaked,” he rasped into my ear, pushing back to look into my eyes. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? Letting me take control.”

I nodded frantically, my lips still wrapped around his chain. His fingers slipped inside me as he rubbed my clit with his thumb, my hips bucking wildly as I was reduced to muffled moans. The wet sounds of his fingers spurred me on, tightening around him as he watched me, an intensity in his gaze that made me weak at the knees.

“I know you’re close for me, doll; you can let go,” he cooed. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

And with that, the coil within me snapped, and it felt even better than before. My jaw went slack, and my eyes scrunched tight as I rode out the pleasure. As I came down from my high, I could feel the wetness between my legs. Opening my eyes, I saw Stan gawking at me, as if he’d never seen anything like it before.

“Stan? What is it?” I asked, starting to feel shy.

“You just... did you know you could do that?”

Looking down, I saw the drenched sheets before me, shaking my head. Before the embarrassment could set in, his lips were on mine, setting an aggressive pace.

“You’re so hot, sweetheart, soaking me like that,” his voice dripping with pride.

He reached up, pulling the chain over his head and placing it around my neck. “Think you can wear this for me while I fuck you, hm? A little reminder of who you belong to,” he murmured against my lips.

“God yes, Stan, I’m yours,” I breathed.

He froze for a second as he was lining himself up with my cunt, slowly dragging his cock through the slick mess he’d created. He had to stop himself from slamming all the way in at the sight of me wearing his chain.

Once he was all the way inside, he whispered, “Say that again for me, baby, please.” It was a plea, as if it meant more to him than I could ever know.

“Stan, I’m yours and only yours, please,” I pleaded. “Fuck me and don’t hold back.”

It was like something snapped inside him at my words. He drilled into me at a punishing pace, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I could see the fire in his eyes, a mix of desire and determination that made my heart race.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly. “So goddamn perfect.” His gaze dropped to my chest, where his medallion lay, glinting between my breasts. “You don’t know how much I love seeing my chain on you like this,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “It suits you.”

With each thrust, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his hands gripping my hips as he drove deeper. “And I’m gonna make sure you remember it.”

I could feel the heat radiating from him, and it only fuelled the fire within me. “Stan,” I gasped, losing myself in the rhythm of our bodies.

He chuckled, a wicked glint in his eye. “That’s right, keep saying my name. I want to hear you scream it.” His pace quickened, and I could barely keep up with the pleasure building inside me.

“Just like that,” he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. “You’re doing so well. Let go for me. Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

As the tension coiled tighter, I couldn’t hold back much longer, surrendering to the waves of ecstasy threatening to wash over me. His thrusts became erratic, the world blurred around the edges, lost in the moment and the connection we shared.

“God, you feel amazing,” Stan gasped, his voice thick with desire. “Look at you, absolutely perfect.” His hands gripped my hips, guiding me as he moved with a relentless rhythm, his eyes locked on mine, filled with admiration.

As the heat surged within me, I felt him lean in closer, his hand wrapping lightly around my throat, applying just enough pressure to heighten every sensation. “That’s it, just let go,” he urged, his tone both commanding and encouraging. “Squeezing me so tight, cum for me.”

With a final wave of pleasure crashing over me, I surrendered completely, gasping as I came undone. “Stan!” I cried, feeling the rush of ecstasy wash over me.

His breath hitched, and I could see the moment he lost control too. “That’s it, doll. Just like that,” he groaned, his eyes widening with pleasure. As he reached his peak, he pulled me closer, his hips stilling, pushing himself deeper as he tensed.

In that shared moment, we both succumbed to the intensity, lost in the bliss of our connection.

As the afterglow settled in, I felt a warm heaviness in my limbs, the world around me softening. Stan’s arm was wrapped securely around me, his presence both comforting and protective in a way that took me by surprise. I glanced up at him, trying to gauge his expression.

“Didn’t know I had it in me, huh?” he said with a smirk, but there was a softness in his eyes that betrayed his confidence. “You really unlocked something in me. You feelin’ okay?”

I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a rush of affection. I nodded. “I didn’t expect you to get so… intense.”

“Yeah, well,” he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Guess I got a little carried away. But I liked it. A lot.” He leaned closer, his gaze steady. “And I like you. A lot.”

The way he said it sent warmth through me, a mix of protectiveness and genuine care that felt new and exhilarating. “You’re not usually like this?” I asked, still processing the intensity of the moment.

“Not really,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I think you bring it out of me. Just don’t go thinking I’ll let anyone else have you.” There was a playful edge to his tone, but I could sense the sincerity behind it.

I nodded, feeling a sense of safety and warmth in his words. “I wouldn’t want anyone else,” I replied softly, curling into him.

“Good,” he said, his grip tightening around me as if to emphasize his point. “Now get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

As I drifted off, I felt the reassuring weight of his arm around me, knowing that whatever this was, it was something special. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Knick Knack Paddy Whack (BAON)

Summary:  As far as Stretch is concerned, there's only one solution when you're addicted to thrift stores. Selling all the crap you bought so you can buy more!

Notes:  Stepping outside of the main storyline for a moment, we'll get back to the aftermath we're all expecting in a moment. 😁

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Stretch was a bonafide thrift-a-holic, he honestly was, and he knew it. It was an important thing to know about yourself, really, because certain problems arose from bad case of oooh-shiny-itis.

Sure, one ceramic zombie hand thrusting up from the dresser to hold his rings and change was an awesome thing to behold, but an entire collection of zombie hands was a tough sell to the person you were living with, especially if that person was Edge. Not that he’d managed to find a collection of zombie hands and if he had, that thrift store would have been on the weekly check list, for sure. But the same premise applied to ‘zombie hand plus an entire horde of other bizarre ceramics surrounding it’.

Stretch wasn’t bitter about the limitations when it came to his collection, nah, he got it. There were certain things you couldn’t ask for from the person you love, and a house filled up with weird tchotchkes that looked like they belonged to the grandmother of the chainsaw massacre family was a step too far. Plus, asking Edge for more space would be unfair. He’d either agree because he didn’t want to tell Stretch no, or he’d say no and feel bad about it. Nah, the set of porcelain dragons playing instruments in a rock band he’d found wasn’t that important, not if it gave Edge a case of the guilts.

Problem was, Stretch really couldn’t resist sometimes. How was he supposed to turn away a wedding painting of Yoda and Kermit the frog? Or a coffee mug with a penguin orgy on it? He couldn’t, that’s how, but his allotted space was filling up in the house proper and soon he’d started to amass quite the collection in his lab, too. It was when the overflow expanded enough to start infringing on his erlenmeyer flasks that he decided he needed a new strategy. Science waited for no one and definitely not anything with the word ‘taxidermy’ included.

That’s when Stretch came up with the plan. Okay, it wasn’t a plan, exactly, more like a flash in the pants of brief inspiration, but hell, he’d been flying by on those his entire life, why stop now?

One of the places he frequented was an antique mall, which was a fancy way of saying one rung on the ladder above actual thrift store, except they rented stalls for people to sell their stuff, so maybe it was more like a glorified garage sale. People carted in their junk for other people to buy and the cashier up front handled all the transactions. Minimal time, minimal effort, that was exactly what he and his kitsch needed, so Stretch went ahead and rented a stall of his own.

The not-exactly-a-plan worked out pretty well. He could buy something at the thrift shop and proudly display it for a while around the house, and then when it came time to replace it with a new find, he’d add it to his stall and whatever money came from it, he donated to the local kid’s charity that the Antique Mall supported. That meant he got in his kicks and joy without looking like a prequel to a Hoarders episode and Edge only had to deal with the octopus tentacle ashtray for a few weeks.

Seriously, it was a win-win all the way around.

A few things did take up permanent residence, of course; he couldn’t give up his zombie hand. But so long as it wasn’t a clown, (clowns were disposed of by Edge immediately and with great prejudice), he was allowed things like his nested Matryoshka dolls of Nicolas Cages for a time.

About once a week he went down to add new things to his stall, mostly during the weekday hours when the buses were on the empty side and he could take up an extra seat with his box of additions. It wasn’t exactly a secret, Andy came along a few times to help, but he never really mentioned it to Edge. Not until today when Stretch realized he’d let things go a little too long and he had some extra boxes to haul down.

Better to take care of it while he was thinking about it, otherwise it tended to turn into an endless cycle of ‘oh, I should do that today’ and him forgetting, but aside from the extra lugging required, it was also Saturday and the bus would be loaded. Hitching a ride would be required, plus a little extra muscle, and his husband was his favorite source for both.

He found Edge in the kitchen, sitting at their temporary table with his laptop and yeah, it was Saturday, time to drag him away from whatever bullshit work he was doing. Stretch put on his best wheedling face and asked, “babe? can you give me a lift today?”

“Of course.” Edge didn’t look up, what a total waste of Stretch’s beguiling charms. His gloved fingertips were soft against the keyboard as he finished whatever he was typing before glancing up at Stretch, and maybe his schmoozing wasn’t entirely wasted; the way Edge closed the lid on his laptop spoke of a guilty conscious for working on his day off. “Where are we going?”

“downtown,” Stretch tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. “i need to hit up my junk and disorderly shop.”

That got him a pause, “Your what?”

“heh, you’ll see.” Stretch curled a finger at Edge in a ‘come hither’ motion that his husband didn’t follow, only watched suspiciously. “c’mon, i need you to help me carry some stuff.”

“This ride is starting to sound less like transport and more like a chore.” But Edge followed him to the basement for the boxes, and, surprise surprise, his willingness to help went up a few notches from wary to eager when he figured out what Stretch was doing. Eh, couldn’t blame him. At the top of the pile was a plush frog with the top hat that played ‘hello my baby’ whenever you pushed on its foot, something Red did every single time he walked past it, plus anytime he’d felt like shortcutting in for a quick press. Time to let it damage the sanity of another family.

The boxes were tossed into the trunk of Edge’s car, frog and all, and soon they were on the road, heading downtown. Truth be told, Stretch wasn’t sure what Edge would make of the place. He tolerated thrift stores well enough, but the antique mall was a different kind of beast. An entire building of obscure collections cluttered together into eclectic displays that others were trying to barter and sell.

There were stalls filled with milk crates of old records, shelves and shelves of antique glassware and dishes. Some stalls had vintage clothing, feathery boas mixed in with disco pants and ruffled aprons. Old instruments, rusty farm equipment, strange kitchen gadgets that looked more dangerous than useful, this place had everything and then some.

Plus, the mall had a certain sort of smell, a musty, dusty scent verging on decay that settled into the sinuses and hung around for a while. Stretch thought it was the smell of a life well-lived and he kinda liked it; after years of thrifting, he associated it with finding treasures, but who knew if Edge felt the same. His tastes in smells (heh) ran more to clean and green, not old-timey funk. Could be it reminded him of shower mildew.

Whatever his opinion of the odors, Edge kept it to himself. He helped with the box carrying and checked out Stretch’s stall curiously but didn’t say much. Probably recognized the stuff on the shelves as having once been on a table or Stretch’s nightstand, until the glee wore off and it ended up gathering dust in the basement. He wandered off at some point, heading into the depths of the mall, and left Stretch to restock his meagre wares.

It took longer than he’d expected. Since he’d opened up his stall, not everything Stretch found thrifting found its way into the house proper anymore. Some of it he bought as a straight-to-video option and he was getting pretty good at finding interesting doodads at the thrifty places that might sell better here, location, location, location, that was the ticket.

Stretch always priced his junk reasonably, usually not much more than he’d paid for it. Wasn’t like he needed the money, and besides, Stretch knew himself pretty damn well, therapy did that to a guy. At the end of the day, he knew what this was really about; all an elaborate scheme to satisfy the inner packrat in his soul that struggled sometimes with giving things away.

Bartering had been built in him before he could say the word; in the Underground, he’d gotten damn good at getting deals for what he could scrounge at the dump. This was the same thing, really, just with slightly different stakes. Dinner wasn’t riding on his latest stash of dvds anymore, always a plus, and these days he could simply look at the empty shelves, content in the knowledge that his Smeagol cardboard cutout had found a new home.

Hey, therapy wasn’t the only way to work out a few kinks in your internal lines.

When the last box was emptied, Stretch wandered up to the front desk to give the lady who ran the front register his new inventory list. That was when he heard it.

There was an old piano up front with a sign on it that said, ‘Do not ‘play’ if you cannot play’. Most of the time it sat silently but someone up there was giving it a good try today. The notes were slower, with obvious hesitations as the player searched for the correct keys, but the song was one Stretch knew. Gently melancholy, a match to the cautious playing.

His curiosity piqued, Stretch wandered over to watch and he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Edge sitting on the piano bench, his attention on his hands as he slowly played. It was a tough choice between watching him play and simply listening to the song and Stretch found himself trying to do both. The uncertain skill in hands he knew so well as they coaxed the music free.

When the last note faded, a faint smattering of applause came from the different stalls around them. Stretch waited for it to end before sitting on the bench next to Edge.

Quietly, Stretch said, “i didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Edge said. He smoothed a hand over the keys, not pressing down, simply touching them. “Not really. I can’t read music, but I know a song or two by rote. A friend of mine pushed me to memorize them.”

Welp, Stretch didn’t have to ask what friend, now did he. An old friend back in another world, and people weren’t replaceable even if they wore the same face. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to; Stretch understood in a way only a few people could, and he settled a hand on Edge’s leg, squeezing his knee gently.

“that was really good,” Stretch offered, “you have a good memory, babe.”

“Some of my memories are better than others,” Edge said. The words were more contemplative than sorrowful, and he didn’t look at Stretch, only touched the back of his hand briefly with his gloved fingertips. “You tend to feature in the best ones, love.”

He reached for the keys again and started to play. The song was more confident this time, bright and cheery, with only the occasional missed note. A handful of other people drifted over, some pausing to watch and some moving on, going about their day with a song to carry them along.

Stretch only tapped his toes and listened as Edge played, more than willing to let him go on until he was ready to stop. If Edge wanted to take a brief dive into the past, then the antique mall was a place for it, where memories and times past mingled with the present.

Besides, a new memory to take home was better than any knickknack.

-fin

Note:  The first song Edge was playing was 'Clair de Lune' by Debussy and the second was 'The Entertainer' by Scott Joplin. In case you were wondering. 😁

[renifall]

Ren hated the cold.

Every day was cold up north, but today was particularly chilly. Cold like this meant waking up early, shivering, even under three layers of blankets. It meant putting extra wood on the stove for a quicker kettle to boil, and a warmer house. It meant double checking the pantry, hoping there was enough food to last the week, and more importantly, enough hot chocolate.

Cold like this meant two extra layers of clothes, wrapping the scarf around her head, pulling it up like a hood. It meant the metal prosthetic would be colder than ice, and feel heavier than a bag of bricks. It meant dragging herself out of the house to check the farm if the water froze over. It meant spending ten minutes (at the very least) breaking that ice with a pole. It meant taking time to catch her breath while she fed the salmon in the pond.

Cold like this meant checking on Manic, and making sure that his water trough hadn’t frozen over either. It meant pumping the water system and getting it to flow so it wouldn’t freeze again that night. It meant feeding Manic just a little bit extra hay, and adjusting the stable blanket that she paid some absurd amount for, but was worth every diamond, just for the fact that no matter how hard he tried, Manic couldn’t wriggle it off like he could the others. It meant moving all the riding equipment from the stable to the cabin, and spending to much time giving it a cleaning job that it probably didn’t need.

Cold like this meant seeing the clock, and realizing she hadn’t restocked on firewood. It meant dragging herself out of the house again, and grabbing the old iron axe that always leaned against the wall. It meant chopping up the wood she had stockpiled and hoping she wouldn’t have look for more. It meant realizing that she did, and running out and grabbing a few logs before the storm that she’d been eyeing all day blew in. It meant chopping up those final logs in a rush, and swearing to herself that she’d properly restock when the weather cleared.

Cold like this meant a small dinner. Preserved meats and poorly baked potatoes that made her mind drift. It meant trying to figure out how he used to cook them, and shake her head angrily and affirm that she didn’t need his stupid potato recipe anyway. It meant staring off into space, the meal half eaten. It meant staring off, not into space, but to a small chest in the corner of the small house. It meant a box that she didn’t really want to unlock, and she swore she lost the key anyway.

But cold like this meant looking under her pillow. It meant finding that key, because she always knew where it was, and unlocking that box. It meant letting out a sigh of relief when all she found was some dusty old papers and clothes. It meant closing that box, but opening it up again after a moment of hesitation. It meant digging around all that old junk to find at the bottom what she always knew was there. It meant pulling out a mass of thick cloth, tossed aside and forgotten, a large cloth with black, white, blue and red, and just the smallest bit of yellow. It meant tracing those three Xs on its face with her finger, not sure if she should be smiling or crying. It meant catching a hint of purple out of the corner of her eye, and pulling out a blue scarf, much like the purple one she now wears. It meant turning that scarf over in her hands before bringing it up to her face and breathing in. It meant flashes of darkness, an echoing scream, and the smell of blood. It meant ripping the scarf away and throwing back into the chest, and the flag with it. It meant locking up the chest and throwing the key across the floor. It meant not climbing into bed so much as falling into it, and wrapping the covers around her until the chills in her spine and the pain in her chest went away. It meant nightmares, visions of rocks falling from the ceiling, and muffled explosions and accompanying laughter overhead. It meant a tear stained pillow she’d have to wash in the morning, and a key she’d find another place to hide.

Ren hated the cold.

[piningfor-pinestwins]

Falling In Love Again, Everyday (Stan X Reader)

You wipe your hands against your jeans, wrinkling your nose at the dusty knickknacks you’ve just had to restock.  It wasn’t the busy season anymore; leaves from the trees fell in droves, and the air has begun to have a certain chill to it. 

You don’t mind too much, though. People still occasionally come in the gift shop, and Mr. Mystery somehow convinces suckers to come on tours, even though most of the audience were town locals who couldn’t get enough of seeing the Sascrotch or Goosurkey. Some of the usuals come by often to check up on their local hero, your boss, Stanley Pines.

In the few months you’d been employed, you made friends with the twins, your boss’ brother came through a freaky portal, and the town fell apart and came back together again. You fought beside the townsfolk, pushed yourself to exhaustion, and helped clean up the town in the aftermath of Weirdmaggedon, all between searching for the Pines family—who had, at this point, become your own.

Before he lost his memory, Stan was a damn good boss. He stuck up for you against rowdy customers, showed you the tricks of the trade with his “art”, and you’d even started staying a little later than usual in the weeks leading up to the end of the world. The younger twins didn’t suspect much, but you knew Ford saw through your ‘just-being-sure-everyone-eats’ act. You‘d developed feelings for Stan, and god, you had it bad, and he was either too polite to mention it, or too oblivious to notice. Either way, your empty apartment didn’t offer much to you except a creaky bed and an old comforter, so the Shack made a great home away from home.

But, summer had ended, and things weren’t the same. Sure, the town eventually returned to its usual hustle and bustle, but school was going back into session, so Dipper and Mabel had gone home to Piedmont weeks ago. Even despite the daily Skype calls and Mabel’s hourly texts, the older twins still seemed a little put out.

More than that, though, was the change in Stanley. Ford has explained the after-effects of the memory gun in detail to you, explaining that, although everything came back as quickly as it left, sometimes things would be spotty. Despite Ford’s optimism that it will get better with time, your heart still breaks every time Stan looks at you with confusion behind his amber eyes, or every time he startles at the realization that he has a twin. But, this seems to be the new normal now, as much as it hurts to think he doesn’t remember your late night flirting and his arm snaking oh-so-carefully around your back when you sit “too close”.

The ringing of the gift shop bell startles you out of your memories, and you hurry to finish restocking the cheap fragile snow globes onto their shelf. You grin at the last tour of the night as they bustle in, just a few locals and some college freshmen home for fall break. “Remember folks, the cashier-witch won’t curse ya, as long as ya buy something over $20!” Stan shuts the door behind the crowd, shooting you a crooked grin and a wink as he moves his eyepatch from his left to his right. “Right, toots?”

You shake your head with a smirk, sliding back to your familiar place behind the counter. With a smile like that, how could you not fall for him? You chat as you ring up customers, playing along with Stan and giving a dirty look to customers with under $20 worth of junk on your counter. You hear Stan snicker as a customer fumbles to add a keychain to their haul, and you smile again and ring them up, sending the last of the night on their way. Stan chuckles now as he flips the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’, pulling the eyepatch and fez from his head and placing them gingerly on the counter as you start counting cash from the register.

  “Good work tonight, kid… Hey,” he says, and you look up at him with a raised brow, “No funny business, y’hear me? I trust ya.” Stan wags a finger at the money in your hand as he walks towards the house-half of the shack. Ah, he must remember you today. You shake your head and roll your eyes with a half-smile, snatching a rubber band from behind the counter to bind the dollars together as you hear Stan in the other room, flipping through channels on the tv. You still knock on the door every time you come through to the house-half, just in case, and Stan heaves an exaggerated sigh each time. “Come in already.” You walk through the threshold, his hand already outstretched and waiting for the cash you drop into it. He thumbs through it, decides he’s satisfied, and shoves it into his pocket where he stands. “This another of your ‘force the old man to eat’ nights?” He asks, tilting his head and leaning against the banister of the stairs. “If that’s alright?” You say, with almost a question in your voice. Even though he seems to remember you today, you never want to overstep a boundary. He rolls his eyes, but you can still see a fond smile as he undoes the cufflinks on his sleeves. “Whatever,” he smirks, jerking his head towards the kitchen door, “You know where everything is.” He turns to leave, and you hear his steps upstairs and his bedroom door close. You call up after him, Guess I’m making whatever I can find, and walk onto the linoleum floor of the kitchen. You look through the fridge, humming quietly to yourself. You’re glad you’d forced the men to buy some decent groceries; the fridge looked damn empty before you’d started staying for dinner. You pick up a tray of chicken breasts and some veg to go with before moving to the other side of the counter. You slide out of your sneakers as you wash your hands, socked feet pushing them out of the way before reaching under the counter for a pan. These evenings worked this way most of the time; him going up to change out of that itchy suit, and you staying below to work on dinner. It was...weird, but nice. Domestic, in a way. You couldn’t deny the fondness you held for Stan Pines, even though he is your boss and at least a decade or so older than you. He really was a kind man, and not a terrible looker for his age. You snicker at the thought; Stan Pines, local silver fox.

He liked to retell stories once your shift was done and when the two of you were sat for dinner. When there were holes in the plot, Ford did his best to help jog the memories back. The stories are a little more jumbled than the first time he told you, but you still liked to listen to his tales. Stupid ones you didn’t believe, scary and illegal ones that you didn’t want to believe, and then some of the more normal, ‘back in my day’ type of stories. He was big in boxing, and a real ladies’ man (you always rolled your eyes at him, but you knew it had to be the truth).

You chop up the veggies and toss them onto the stove, humming as you turn the knob that makes it ignite.

As the food sizzles in its pan, you lose yourself in the otherwise quiet kitchen. You continue to hum to yourself, hips swaying to your own music. You close your eyes, imagining Stan dancing with a smile. In your thoughts, he’s giving you a confident grin, his hands low at your hips as he twirls you around. It almost makes you blush with just the thought of it, but you just snicker to yourself, shaking your head as you move your hips.

Your socked feet shuffle-dance against the linoleum floor as you move to snatch something from the fridge. You bend at the waist as you reach into the fridge, hips wiggling as you scan the shelves for the damn worschtersire--worst--werst...the sauce Stan likes. You startle at a cough behind you, and your hips go still. “Hey toots,” Stan starts quietly, and you hear him walk to sit at the little table in the kitchen, “Could’ya toss me a Pitt while you’re in there?” You slowly stand back up, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. How long was he standing there? “Long enough.” He answers, and you whip your head to face him, realizing you had accidentally asked that aloud. “Hope I wasn’t interruptin’ anything, but I don’t feel too bad barging in on you...Y’know, my house an’ all.” Stan shoots you a shit-eating grin, obviously amused by your embarrassment. “Food smells good, though.”

You bite your lip, quickly reaching into the fridge for the dark brown bottle and a can of Pitt, tossing Stan the latter without meeting his eye as you return to the meal. He catches it with a “Woah!” but his amusement is palpable. You can all but see the sleazy smirk on his face.

It’s a quiet few moments as you return to the pan, wiggling it by its handle to shift around the cooking food. You hear him take a long drink of his soda and lean back in his chair, the legs creaking quietly as he lifts them from the floor.

“Could you holler at Ford for me? Looks like dinner will be done soon.” You break the silence, glancing at him over your shoulder. You catch his eye and he clears his throat, apparently catching him staring as he quickly glances away. “I tried earlier. He said somethin’ about some sort of breakthrough down in his lab. Not sure he’ll be up tonight.” Stan scratches his gut as he speaks, bringing his soda back to his lips to drain it. You watch him finish off the Pitt, eyeing him appreciatively while his attention is diverted. He’s got some muscle under his softness, and you know from experience (he refuses to let you live down the time you fell from a ladder while decorating the shop, right into his arms, mostly on accident). He’s run his hand through his hair a few times to get rid of the hat-hair he tends to keep after long shifts, mussing it just so. He really does look good.

You lose yourself momentarily, and now he’s the one catching you staring. He meets your eye, lowering the can slowly. Stan licks at the remains of his drink at his bottom lip, tongue darting between his teeth. You feel dryness in your mouth, and watch as his tongue laves over his bottom lip once more, slower this time, his eyes curious on yours.

You’re startled back to reality by heat on your hand, realizing your fingers have come slightly too close to the burner. Swearing, you stick the knuckle of your index finger into your mouth, sucking out the heat as you move to turn off the burner and grab a plate. You look down to inspect the burn as you turn around, leaning against the counter for better light. You’re startled at Stan’s figure, moving closer to you. “Are ya hurt?” His voice is quiet, his body is close. Stan takes your hand in his own, inspecting the burn before you really get a chance to. His warm, lightly calloused fingers envelop yours, and his amber eyes are focused at your knuckle. You can’t help but stare up at him--surprised, embarrassed, maybe even a little hopeful at his proximity.

You curse yourself for your optimism, but find yourself caught watching his expression. There’s a care behind those brown eyes that you’ve seen from him a few times before, and it makes your stomach flip. It’s the same look you get on his best days -- the days where he laughs the loudest and smiles the biggest.

He’s so close, his chest is against your arm as he turns your wrist over in his hand. “C’mere.” He mumbles, moving you to the sink and turning the knob for cold water, gently pushing your hand beneath the faucet. He gently washes the digit, his thumb running over your fingers gingerly. You lean against him without thinking, and feel his breath hitch in his chest. Shit, maybe too much. He grabs a dishtowel from the rack of the oven and you move away from him, letting him dry your hand and release his grip. “That should help.” He turns away, dropping the towel onto the counter. “I’ll...Go try and get Ford.” He wipes his hands on his boxers and walks away, stepping through the doorway toward the vending machine. You watch him leave, quietly cursing yourself. He barely remembers your name some days; how dare you expect the intimacy you so desire? It’s unfair to him, and it makes your stomach turn to think he might just hate you. Or disregard you. Or...you weren’t sure what you were more worried of.

There’s quiet through the house as you make two plates of food, suddenly unsure if you’d be welcome (or willing, if you were honest) to stay for the meal. Pinpricks of tears form at the edge of your eyes, and you curse yourself as you wipe them away. You shouldn’t be hurt by this, but your optimism is your downfall more often than not. You sniffle quietly and rub your eyes, willing yourself to get it together before the twins come in.

You hear only one set of footsteps come back to the kitchen, soft footfalls returning the way they left.

“Ford’s asleep, believe it or not,” Stan returns with a huff of a laugh, coming through the doorway without looking at you. He turns his back to you, snatching up another can of soda from the fridge before moving to sit at the table once more. “So, looks like it’s just you ‘n me for dinner.”

His tone is even, which makes you more nervous. You clear your throat, hoping your face doesn’t give away your worry. Taking both plates and turning to face Stan, you place one plate in front of him and set the other at your regular place on the table, sliding into your chair quietly.

Utensils clink quietly against your plate as you eat in silence, refusing to look his way as you eat. He’s quiet too, which is slowly making you lose your appetite. Usually he’s chatting, talking about anything and nothing with his mouth full and making you laugh, but it’s so noticeably awkward and quiet, you almost can’t handle it. You chew your next mouthful, tapping your socked toe against the cool linoleum. Stan finally groans, putting down his utensils and looking over at you. “Toots, we can’t...pretend this isn’t an issue.” You look at him with raised eyebrows, swallowing your bite and pursing your lips as you meet his eye. He’s looking at you with a warm sort of sadness in his gaze, leaning forward, his arm closer to your hand on the table than you remember it being, like he was reaching for you when you weren’t looking. “I know my memory shit is difficult for all of us--trust me, I hate being on the receivin’ end of all the sad looks you ‘n Ford give me.” Despite his words, his lips quirk up. He reaches over and takes your free hand, warm fingers gentle against your skin as he turns your hand in his, thumb brushing tenderly against your skin. “But you can’t go pretending it doesn’t hurt you. I know it does, and even on the hard days, I know when you’re hurtin’, babe. I can feel it, and God does it break my heart when I see you trying to hide those watery eyes.” Stan looks so vulnerable, his shoulders heavy and looking almost surprised at his own words as they come from his mouth. You blink back the tears at the edge of your eye and look away before it can fall, catching the bob of his throat out of the corner of your eye.

He takes a breath and exhales it, then clears his throat before he speaks again. “Sweetness,” Stan’s voice is so soft, drawing your eye once more, “We can make this work. It’s hard to live day-to-day like this, but...I dunno, toots, it’s kinda fun to fall in love with you every day.” He huffs a wry laugh as the words leave him and you laugh with him, standing from your seat and moving to sit into his lap.

His arms wrap around you and he holds you close, a hand curling tenderly into your hair and his face buried into your shoulder. As you slip your arms around his neck, you could swear you feel a wetness through your shirt. You save the man his dignity and hold him silently, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of his hair.

Warm palms find your waist, thumbs rubbing gentle circles against the fabric of your shirt. He lifts his head and smiles at you. One of your hands comes up to his cheek, caressing the stubble and smiling at the warmth of his blush beneath your fingertips. As he meets your eye, his gaze holds a timid yearning that makes your breath catch. His face melts into a grin at that, his dimple caving in beneath your palm. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him and you lean closer, ducking your head to plant a kiss at his forehead. One hand leaves your back and lifts to catch your chin, the callouses brushing your skin as he pulls your face closer to his own.

His lips catch yours in one quick motion, their softness enveloping your bottom lip as he releases his hold on your chin. Your eyes close as you feel a blush rising up your cheeks, kissing him back with fervor. He tastes like peach and just slightly like salt, the tip of his tongue grazing over your bottom lip so lightly, sending a shudder down your back. You pull away first, but press two more kisses against his lips for good measure as you sit back against his knees. A laugh escapes your lips as he opens his eyes, and he laughs with you after a second, his blush still pink and bright.

His chest rumbles as he laughs, and you relish in his grin. As the laughter fades away, you catch him eyeing your lips once more, his tongue darting between his own as he begins to lean into you. You can feel his breath against your mouth before you feel him stop, his eyes darting away from you and to something a bit past you, the corners of his lips quirking upward. You cock your head at him, then turn around to see what it is, eyebrows raised.

A sleepy-eyed, blushing Ford stands at the entrance of the kitchen, his hair mussed and clothes disheveled as he looks at you in his brother’s lap. Though he’s blushing, a knowing smirk sits on his lips, and he crosses his arms as he raises his brows at both of you. “Sorry I missed dinner.”

[shiftythrifting-darktimes]

Rainy Day Junk Box is back!

Everything you need to have a good time, direct from the thrift store!  This Medium Flat Rate box will be JAM PACKED with interesting activities!  Highlights include an incredible origami kit, endless stickers, and a diy shirt making thing.  These always sell fast, so grab it now! We also have a special Furby box in stock this week, as well as Disney and other theme boxes!  Shirt boxes have been restocked today as well. http://shop.shiftythrifting.com/

[flowers-and-memes]

Grocery Escapades

Here’s a drabble micro-fic thingy i made and then didn’t edit because i love procrastinating. :))))))

“Hooray!” Phichit said, throwing his hands up in excitement.

“Calm down, we haven’t even started shopping yet,” Celestino said in dismay. It was a new week, which meant it was time to make another trip to the grocery store to stock up. Which also meant that it was time to put his self-dubbed “iron will” to the test when faced with two sets of big, begging eyes that wanted him to buy all the foods that were strictly off-limits.

A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled the truck into a parking space. As soon as the engine was turned off, both of his students jumped out, sharing gossip and speaking nonsense like children.

“Is this what my life has come to?” Celestino said softly, running a hand through his ponytail.

“What’s that, Ciao Ciao?” Phichit said, looking up from his phone. His coached waved him off dismissively. He wouldn’t let it out that he was enjoying the responsibility of taking care of his students. In fact, they felt more like children to him than students, not only because they often acted like children, but also because of the amount of trust they put in him. Over the past few years of coaching them, both of his students started coming to him for not for advice, but just to be around him. They chose home movie nights instead of going out, and, most recently, they moved out of their shared campus dorm and into Celestino’s house. And so he found himself living in a rag-tag family composed of himself, his two “children”, and a dog in the suburbs of Detroit, Michigan.

His love for his students-turned-children would be tested today, however, as it always is on grocery days.

“Please don’t go running around the store without me, now. And no hide-and-seek this time,” Celestino said as they collected a cart and walked through the automatic doors, a cold rush of wind blowing at them.

“Oh, I have an idea!” Phichit said.

Oh no.

The last time Phichit had an idea, Celestino ended up having to clean and restock an entire display of colorful energy drinks after Phichit had knocked it over in his attempt to traverse the grocery store walking backwards.

“Can I ride in the cart, Ciao Ciao?” Phichit said, already getting into the cart.

“I don’t see why not,” Celestino said with yet another sigh. At this rate, he wouldn’t need to watch his blood pressure anymore with all the deep breaths his two charges have been making him take. But at least Phichit’s idea didn’t involve backwards walking or an in-store game of Red Light, Green Light.

With Phichit comfortably settled in the cart, Celestino headed toward the produce section.

“Um,” He heard someone say softly next to him.

“Yes, Yuuri?”

“Can I ride in the cart too?”

Oh boy.

“Sure, get in,” Celestino said, gesturing to the cart.

“Yay!” Phichit exclaimed. “So what’s on the list, Ciao Ciao?”

Drawing his phone out of his back pocket, Celestino opened his grocery list:

Tomatoes

Garlic

Onions

Three items of absolutely abysmal quality in the States. Great.

“The tomatoes here couldn’t hold a candle to the ones in Italia,” He said while inspecting a plump, red tomato.

“You say that every time we’re here, Ciao Ciao,” Phichit said. He earned himself a bop on the head for that comment.

“I say it every time because it’s true. The ones here are absolutely flavorless,”

“Careful Coach, a native might hear you,” Yuuri said, slinging his arms over the edge of the cart.

“Let them hear. They need to learn how to make proper Italian food,” Celestino said. He wheeled the cart over to the potatoes, walking a few feet away to go inspect the onions.

“Hey, Ciao Ciao! Let us help,” He heard Phichit call to him. He proceeded to ignore him as he put one, two, three russet potatoes into a plastic bag.

“Yeah, we didn’t come here with you for nothing,” Yuuri added.

“That’s right,” Celestino started, “you came here to pressure me into buying junk food for you,” He finished, sending the boys a look from the corner of his eye. Phichit opened his mouth to protest, lifting a finger, but decided against it, muttering something along the lines of “kill-joy…” to himself.

As it turned out, Celestino’s charges entertained themselves in the produce section by pointing to the different items they saw and calling out the name in Japanese or Thai. It became a guessing game as they told their coach the name of the item, and then he had to guess what it was. It involved a lot of hot-and-cold hints and some laughter, and it ultimately took them about 10 minutes longer than it should have to find all of the produce they needed.

Celestino had to stop Phichit from attempting to juggle the tomatoes twice before they wheeled to the next section.

“Oh, can we get mango juice, Ciao Ciao?” Phichit said.

“What do you need mango juice for?”

“Mango lassi,” Phichit said as if it was obvious.

“Like I know what that is,” Phichit huffed, putting his hands on his hips, or the best that he could do in the small grocery cart.

“It’s like a mango smoothie,” Yuuri said helpfully.

“This is a little out of my price range,” Celestino said, inspecting a carton of mango juice closely, “if you have mango juice money, you can buy it,”

“Come on, coach!” Phichit protested. Celestino didn’t know if it made him a good or bad parent that Phichit’s whining made him feel just a little bit of satisfaction. Just a little bit.

“Watch out, this is cold,” Celestino said and then dropped a bag of frozen salmon filets into the cart, earning a yelp from both skaters, “And this,” he dropped two packages of raw chicken breast in as well.

“Ciao Ciao, how could you?” Phichit said in mock-despair.

Three more packages of various lean meats later, and it was time for Celestino to go through the first trial of his iron will: the cereal aisle. Last time, he had broken down and allowed his two charges to put a box of cocoa puffs into the cart. But he still holds true to his excuse that he only let them do it because he felt bad for going so hard on them during practice, not because they were adorable or anything.

“You can pick out one cereal,” He said.

“Yay,” both skaters exclaimed,

“From the granola section,” Both skaters groaned at that, letting out variations of “come on, coach” and “not cool”.

“A bowl of sugary kid’s cereal isn’t going to give you anything but a 5 minute rush in the morning,” Celestino chided.

As it turned out, both boys were too busy sulking to bother choosing a cereal, so he picked up two boxes of granola cereal and one bag of muesli and stacked them on Yuuri’s lap for safe keeping.

“Can we get some oatmeal?” Yuuri said.

“Now that is a good choice,” Celestino said and added a tub of oats to the cart, “10 points to team Yuuri,” That got a rise out of Phichit.

“You didn’t tell me this was a competition, coach!”

“It’s not, I just like Yuuri more than you,” He said, failing to keep a straight face and breaking out into laughter at Phichit’s insulted expression.

What Phichit and Yuuri dubbed “the boring section” of the grocery store came next. The so-called boring part of the shopping experience was every aisle that wasn’t the cereal aisle or chips and soda aisle. Yuuri also perked up while they walked through the bakery, but ever since that one time in December, Celestino had developed a detour that avoided the bakery altogether. Nevertheless, the boring part of the shopping passed with companionable silence, the two skaters preoccupied with recording their experience in Snapchat and teaching one another new words in Japanese or Thai. They approached the medicine area,

“Either of you need any more bruise cream?” Celestino said, parking the cart next the ointments.

“No, I don’t think so,”

“How about hemorrhoid cream?”

“Ciao Ciao, ew!”

“That’s gross, coach,” Phichit and Yuuri said, sticking out their tongues. Celestino ended up putting a tube of bruise cream into the cart anyway.

“We need more Band-Aids, though,” Yuuri said.

“Oh, can we get the hello kitty ones? Can we, Ciao Ciao? Please,” Phichit pointed towards the band-aids with more enthusiasm than was necessary.

“Alright, alright, just stop nagging,”

Over at the yogurt section, Celestino was currently debating whether or not he should just leave the cart there and go home. Because now his two skaters were arguing over what kind of yogurt they wanted and which brand. Because apparently the brand of Greek yogurt matters. And apparently, even though Celestino had told them that no, they cannot get GoGurt, it was still being brought up in the argument.  Yuuri was in the process of reaching from his seated position to grab a container of blueberry yogurt when,

“Ow! Coach, he hit me,” Yuuri called out,

“I didn’t hit you, I move your hand out of the way,”

“By hitting my arm!”

“Did not,”

“Did too,”

“Boys,” Celestino tried to interject. But there was no stopping them now, because at the moment they were having a tug of war match over a container of mango-flavored Greek yogurt. While they argued, he walked over to the refrigerators and picked out a gallon of lactose-free milk. Low-fat because it was training season.

Yuuri and Phichit were still arguing.

He made a mental note to pick up some wine before he left.

Now both boys were taking turns yelling “blueberry!”, “mango!” at one another endlessly, and their voices were becoming alarmingly louder. In a wash of dad-mode determination, Celestino wrenched the containers of yogurt from both boys’ hands and put them back on the shelf.

“No,” he said in a scarily soft but stern voice, “not today, not ever…” He then put three containers each of mango and blueberry yogurt in the cart, “now stop arguing, you’re making this so difficult,”

“…sorry coach,” Yuuri said quietly, hanging his head.

“Just ask me before you start fighting over food I’m already going to buy you, for goodness sake,” Celestino said, taking three deep breaths. He wouldn’t tell them that the actual reason he was upset was because he had seen a rather attractive woman over in the refrigerator section and was going to try wooing her, but his skaters had caused a commotion and made him look bad.

Fishing out his phone, Celestino checked more items off the list. Only three more left:

Bread

Eggs

Cheese

Oh, and wine. Make that four items left.

“Be very careful with these,” Celestino said, and then handed each skater a carton of a dozen eggs. Yuuri shifted positions and cradled the carton of eggs like he would a baby, earning a giggle from Phichit. At least the two were getting along again.

“Phichit, close your eyes! This is the adult section,” Yuuri said and proceeded to throw his hands over Phichit’s eyes. They had just wheeled into the wine section.

“Hurry up coach, the longer we’re here, the more he gets corrupted!” the Japanese skater called out over Phichit’s cackling. After picking out a suitable red wine, Celestino wheeled the cart out of the wine section,

“So what’s the diagnosis?” He asked Yuuri.

“He’ll pull through, but some ice cream would do him some good,” Yuuri said, now cradling a dramatic, swooning Phichit in his arms instead of the eggs.

“Nice try,”

Checking off the final items on the list, Celestino headed towards the cash registers.

“Alright boys, is there anything I forgot?”

“Ice cream,”

“No.”

“Then no, I think we have everything,”

As expected, the cash registers were all crowded, people forming jagged lines with their carts while other grocery shoppers tried to move through them.  Every register had a line, so Celestino picked one at random. In what was most likely a cruel twist of fate, the attractive woman from earlier was standing in front of them at register 8. Phichit and Yuuri were busy giggling at something on Phichit’s phone.

“Are these your kids?” The woman asked.

“In a figurative sort of way, yes,” Celestino said, then added, “they’re studying abroad and I’m hosting them,”

“Ah, how sweet!” the woman said with a gasp.

“Boys, introduce yourselves,” Phichit was the first to look up from his phone.

“Oh, hi I’m Phichit! Sawasdee khrab!” He said with a wai.

“I’m Yuuri,” Yuuri said softly.

“Phichit’s from Thailand, Yuuri is from Japan,” Celestino added.

“Wow, you two are a very long way from home,” the woman said, “I’m Helen, by the way,”

“Celestino,”

As they all waited in line, Celestino and Helen carried on their conversation. Phichit and Yuuri were stuck in the middle, turning their heads from Helen to Celestino to Helen again as they talked. Yuuri whispered something into Phichit’s ear, and then the two giggled.

“What are you two laughing about,” Celestino asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Phichit drawled, and then the two giggled again. Celestino then gave the two boys The Look, which, in the context of the situation, meant “don’t blow this for me I’m about to get a date”. And so both skaters went back to looking at Phichit’s phone.

Groceries bagged and paid for, all three wheeled out of the store and towards the truck.

“Thank you for not ruining it for me, boys,” Celestino said.

“No problem, Ciao Ciao,” Phichit replied, and then Yuuri added,

“Just let us know when Helen’s coming over so we can go stay at someone else’s place. I’d rather not be scarred for life again,”

Celestino let go of the cart, letting it roll away past the truck, and watched the boys shriek in terror for a few seconds before running to catch it again.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 5

Table of Contents Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

Updated 2019.01.29. (Minor name tweaks.)

The dull, pleasant white noise of Angel’s thruster flame, commingled with occasional gentle shuffling and rattling, comforted Carey as he awoke for the day. One corner of his mouth twitched upward as he turned over to feel for his glasses, which he found on the bottom-most shelf of the aisle shelving. Angel had placed them and his cane on the shelf together, and Carey pushed off with it for leverage to stand and inspect just exactly what had busied Angel in the night. His entire body crackled as he righted himself, though he felt he could manage his aches today.

Most of the broken shelves now functioned, repaired. The pile of debris in the front corner had vanished, and a variety of things which Carey recognized had been in the back room the night before now found themselves on the shelves of the store front, most notably the cartons of Halloween candy. The observation left Carey wondering what exactly his Handy had done with the back room, with the store front now so clean. He had fallen asleep with the only key to the only door that he expected to exist on the accessible floors. Even the bodies had been relocated elsewhere; perhaps Angel had used its laser to cremate them, like it had accidentally of the RadRoach.

“Ah, Sir! You’re awake.” The pale blue Handy came from the back room to take a smooth, slow swerve around the checkout counter. It greeted its owner, offering up the other half of the can of water, which he took. “I trust you slept well? You tossed a lot.”

Carey dipped two fingers in the can and used the water to rub the sleep from his eyes. Then, he dried his face on the shoulder of his sleeve and began to sip at the can to wet his mouth. He himself tried his best not to recall the details of the feverish dream he’d had the night before, but his proclivities decided otherwise, and he twitched.

“I suppose I did.” He fidgeted, and looked past his Handy as he set the can down to argue with the placement of the bobby pins that had migrated in his sleep. “You’ve been quite busy, I see. Got this place looking great. All the junk from the corner is in the back room now, isn’t it? Fantastic work.”

“I try.” Angel beamed sheepishly. “I found a third room that was almost completely all rubbish, so for now I swept it all together in the first story stock room. If that’s not to your liking, we could dispose of it somehow. I’d gladly carry it off to a dumpster for you.”

Carey walked past his Handy to observe it had completely rearranged the back room. It had restocked the entirety of useful items from the room’s metal stock shelves to the store front, and had also disinterred an open doorway Carey had not noticed last night on the hunt for the bathroom. “I’m sure the rubbish is fine for now where you put it, but what I’m more intrigued by is, you uncovered the stairs--?”

He leaned against the door frame and eyed this third room. Although there were cracks in the far wall filtering in small amounts of sunlight, he still needed the light of his Pip-Boy to see. The small lobby had a cream-colored couch with cube-shaped squat end tables to either side of it, butted up to the far wall, which beside that housed the aforementioned stairwell, with its door stuck open. To his right was a pair of elevators, and a door. The two leftmost doors both looked to require passkeys. Neither elevator looked functional, and Carey grimaced at the thought of having to get to the third floor on foot in his condition.

“I haven’t ventured to the upper stories, I’m afraid.” Angel came up behind him. “I didn’t want to abandon you, in case you had trouble with the stairs.”

The fact such a concern crossed both of them burned Carey, but he said nothing.

“What would you like for breakfast, Sir?” The Handy dug around in its back compartment. “I have some mutfruits. I picked them in Sanctuary Hills to bring along. They’re packed with vitamin C. Got to stave off malnutrition and the scurvy, if you’re to be subsisting chiefly on canned meats and the like, ha-ha!”

It presented a table knife and a large, rindy, lumpy indigo produce. Its owner set aside protest to accept the fruit and utensil, and he twisted out the woody stem with trouble. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to grind those coffee beans, would you? And could I have the potato crisps with this?”

“Here you go.” The Handy offered the tube of stacked chips also. “I’m afraid not. And we haven’t come across a working percolator yet, either, I hate to remind.”

“A shame. Maybe there’s one in the break room.”

The chemist sat himself down in the wheelchair again with his meal. He started with the potatoes, needing a starchy salt fix, and washed them down with the overgrown berry. The rind was edible and only mildly pithy, but he still used the table knife to peel it back and expose the tender, clumpy meat of the fruit, and pry out its pebbly chunks. While quite watery flavor-wise, the citrus notes still made it palatable. The seeds in each ‘pebble’ annoyed him, though he could chew them up as easily as sunflower seeds. As he ate, the contemplation crossed him whether they were closer to blackberries or blueberries, or possibly even somehow distantly related to the pomegranate, with the complexity of the flesh and the types of flavors it bore. He wiped his hands with the kerchief from the pocket of his slacks, and made a face at how crunchy the thing had already gotten. Either he’d have to wash it out soon, or find a fresher one.

He stood and set off for the stairs, with the Handy coming along. The sack hood went back on.

“What say we check out the upper stories today?”

“I’ll spot you. ...Is the hood entirely necessary?”

“Eleanor might still be here,” was the best he could explain.

It stayed no more than two feet behind as its owner tackled the stairs. Carey steadied himself with his cane every other step. As the two ascended, Carey looked upward arriving at the half-flight landing. The entire stairwell seemed in-tact, though he couldn’t assess whether all three stories’ lobbies had been damaged the same as the first. Navigating only by the light of his Pip-Boy all the while, the absence of any exterior light sources bolstered his optimism.

Entering the second story lobby, he found it in one piece as anticipated, though he could see in the screen-light that a crack stressed the far wall, at how the pale wainscoting and dark, peeling wallpaper buckled in. This floor’s operating lights for the elevators were lit, suggesting the lifts themselves might still work. Like the first, this lobby also had a cream couch and twin end tables. A rotund lamp had fallen off one, though the other stood, and Angel compulsively righted the errant of the pair. Next to it lay a stack of deteriorating magazines, among them medical and pharmaceutical journals, as well as a few lifestyle magazines.

Down one direction was a door, the other a hallway. He took to the hallway first, to find the bathrooms to his left, and a pair of doors to either side of the end of the hall. The left one was metal, and had a wire-reinforced glass pane; trying it, he found it locked. The one on the right had a double-action swing door, with a reminder posted on it not to bring unpurchased merchandise into the break room.

“Oh my stars,” Angel awed as the two stepped into the break room. “Look at all these appliances! I insist I cook you something fantastical for dinner, Sir.”

Carey stared intently at the coffee pot on the far counter.

“Maybe we can find the breaker box and restore power to the building. Bet with my luck, it’s behind that door with the digital lock downstairs.”

There were six tables big enough to seat four to six people each, in a two-by-three-arrangement, with a scattering of chairs and reading material. The skeletons of several employees slumped over where they’d taken their morning coffee, or outright fallen from their chairs. Owing to the dry, sour smell of the corner, Carey dared not investigate the two hundred year old contents of the refrigerator--at least, not for now. Beside it stood a Nuka-Cola machine. A blender, a toaster, a pair of hot plates, and a a toaster oven all crowded on the counter, and an industrial microwave hung from beneath the cabinetry.

The wall opposite boasted a Eat-O-Tronic machine at eye level, though when Carey glanced into the shuttered vent-style glass doors of the thing, he saw only plates of what likely at some point had been freshly prepared meals, with various impostors of meat, cheese, produce, and bread molded firmly to nearly spumescent plates. He helped himself to the Nuka-Cola machine, and sat with a Nuka Cherry. It wasn’t stealing if the company that owned it could no longer collect money, after all. Though flat and now immodestly alcoholic, he sighed with refreshment after a single swig from the iconic rocket-shaped bottle. All the classic, familiar flavors remained after two centuries. The cap ended up in his pocket, and he nursed at the beverage that had once been soda as he pulled some of the magazines on the table nearer him.

“I remember reading about these beetles.” He pointed at the article he was on, making more of a monologue than a dialogue of it. Angel was quite absorbed in assessing the kitchen space anyway. “There were compounds in their exoskeletons that could be extracted and distilled into powerful antiseptics. This piece is about using it to synthesize a salve. Some of my colleagues balked at this kind of thing. Called it folk medicine. But there were legitimate pharmaceutical claims as to the mechanism of the chem. I wonder if it ever would have found more significant applications.” He finished off the Nuke, finally feeling the headiness of the fermented cane sugar. “I’m sure they’re all extinct now.”

“I don’t know about that, Sir,” Angel replied offhandedly, arranging in the over-the-counter cabinetry all the various food supplies it had found. “I’ve encountered a great many variety of insects whilst you were in Vault 111.”

Carey simply murmured to himself in understanding. He thought a moment.

“Say, Angel. Could I root around in your storage a moment?”

“Of course, Sir. They are your things, after all.”

In addition to all the cash he’d accumulated, he also retrieved a dose of Melancholia, and he sat down under the pretense of counting his funds. He swapped out the bottle on the counter for the one he’d taken, and nursed it more greedily than he had the impromptu liquor. The two tasted so similar, aged two hundred years, though it was clear which was the headier quaff. Once it was emptied, the bottle from the opiate-and-supplement cocktail slipped into one of the nearby chairs.

Old habits die hard, they say.

Soon after, he took the Nuke bottle and closed the periodical, and approached the elevators. He went to push the call button to the left one, only to curse that it did in fact require a passkey. Of course it did. The one to the right seemed functional. It’d have to do--if it worked, anyway. He pushed the call button on it, and to his surprise the backup generator in the building still fed this machine. The speaker on the lift announced its downward descent, and he could hear the mechanisms and pulleys whirring. With a ding and the blink of a green light on the call button, the doors opened and Carey looked inside, not stepping foot inside.

Not yet. Everything about the car seemed trustworthy. He craned around to inspect the weight limit inscribed on the button panel. Three-thousand pounds. The buttons directed to the first three floors only. Surely, he could find a passkey on one of the break room employees. He cleared his throat and nudged the doors to recognize not to close on him, then he placed the empty cola bottle in the center of the short-bile beige carpet in the car. He pushed the third floor button and stepped away. Musingly, as the enameled pocket doors shut themselves, he waved goodbye to it.

“What are you doing, Sir?”

Angel had come to investigate, but Carey’s drooping, dopey eyes didn’t look away from the elevator in operation.

“Testing the integrity of the elevator.” Lyric dripped from his ineffectual tone. “I doubt it can go down to the first floor, with how bad it looked down there. But I’m sure it--” The operating light in the panel over the doors turned off. “But I’m sure it can go between the second and the third.” He pressed the call button again. When the doors opened a second time, the bottle greeted him anew, and he laughed. “Hi there.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but you weigh a far deal more than a glass cola bottle.”

“Had to see if the pulleys worked at all. Even just having this thing spruced into a dumbwaiter would be beneficial--especially if I can get that damn store room door open.” Slurring, he wagged a condemning finger at the door down the hall. “It’s an analogue lock, so it can’t be too hard.”

He tossed the cane on the couch, and pulled a bobby pin from his hair, screwdriver from his pocket in the other. Holding his tongue at varying angles as he knelt at the doorknob, he worked at picking the lock at length.

“Bingo.”

Carey pulled himself up by the doorknob, and Angel brought him his cane. The two entered the store room, lit only by the Pip-Boy display. At a passing glance, he could tell predominantly this was equipment back stock. Early on he recognized an unrusted wheelchair, though he could hardly consider it good fortune besides potentially using it to navigate the building once he could prove the elevator’s limitations.

“Shit!”

Carey grinned, and his cane clattered to the metal enamel floor as he snatched up a box.

“Sir, I understand you’re quite intoxicated, but language, please.”

“They do have orthotics! Leg braces. Wrist braces. Even a-- oh shit, a surgical corset for posture control.”

“I take it this pleases you.” Angel idled a bit, unable to tell whether the cursing held genuine enthusiasm.

“Immensely.”

Carey disrobed and tried on a set of the pale canvas fabric-laced aids, while Angel wandered the room, seemingly to respect privacy. The corset came first, his most urgent price. He felt the hindsighted regret of potentially getting the laces a bit too tight in his eagerness, but the smoothness of his chest and firmness in his back comforted him in ways he hadn’t felt since Vault-Tec had stripped him of his foundation-wear. He’d inherited his great grandmother’s bust flattener by request and used it to bind his chest for nearly twenty years, though it certainly would have never had the capacity to support his spinal column in such a way as he needed now! It was difficult for him to break away from running his hands along how flat he now was, to equip himself with the other pieces. There was something so singularly soothing to know this article, unlike the flattener which the personnel had likely tossed in the incinerator, came unisex with no gender attachments.

Slowly, he began to feel like himself again. Better, even, perhaps.

The legs, upon closer inspection, were just stirrups for ankle support, but he felt even that minor of a help would benefit him--it took so much focus for him to keep himself from misstepping and putting his foot down wrong, and with these for reassurance he could put his attention to more crucial details. The wrist braces would help him stabilize his aim. As he buttoned his shirt, the lights turned on abruptly, and he squinted unpleasantly.

“Let’s shed some light on all this,” Angel prided from a far corner. “I found the auxiliary switch for this floor, Sir.”

Carey pulled up his suspenders and enthusiastically stared into space from where he sat in the floor.

“Guess I do get a hot meal tonight.”

Go to Next »»»

[birdshirt1-blog]

10 Things You Can Do to Help The Environment Now

It’s a big world we’re living in, and a big planet means big problems. Even as we focus a little extra attention on loving on the Earth this month, the environmental issues at hand — air pollution, poor waste management, water scarcity, climate change, and more — are so overwhelming that it can feel much easier to cross our fingers and hope that big-picture efforts to right the ship can fix it. Right? We get it. 

We get it, but we want to empower you to do more than just cross your fingers. As intimidating as these literal planet-sized problems can feel, there are small steps that each of us can take to contribute to the solution — so small, in fact, that you can execute on them today, tomorrow, definitely this week. We wrote a post on ways we’re reducing plastic in our homes, and here are ten other ways to start.

Like, right now. 

1. Streamline your errands. Errands can be a total drag, but you can turn them into a game and love on the environment in the process by challenging yourself to condense that long list of to-dos as much as possible. Map out your route before you get started (maybe while you snack on a Banana Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Muffin?) and see how many of your must-do errands can be squeezed into one trip out of the house — and minimal mileage. You’ll save time for yourself and cut back on the amount of time spent on the road, which is great for air quality. 

2. Donate to a food kitchen. Get ahead of the inevitable temptation to toss unused food and pantry items by gathering a box of things to donate right now. Find a local food kitchen, food bank, or other organization that needs what you already have and help them out. Getting proactive about culling your refrigerator and cabinets before your kitchen gets out of control will ensure that you don’t go on a full-on KonMari tear down the road, filling your garbage can with packaging and food that others would be happy to have. 

3. Buy in bulk. If you find yourself restocking certain non-perishable items on a seemingly constant basis, it may be time to consider buying those items in larger quantities. When you buy in bulk, you cut back on the amount of packaging you consume, thus minimizing waste. You’ll also save yourself time in running future errands. Racking up wins everywhere! 

4. Start saving scratch paper. Our world is mostly paperless these days, but it never hurts to have some paper around for making grocery lists and jotting down random notes to self. We love cute stationery as much as the next person, but let’s be real: all those sweet little notepads decorated with flowers or seasonal fruit are a needless expense and another place for us to be wasteful. Start collecting flyers, mail, and other scratch paper that still have plenty of space for your own writing. If you can’t see yourself building up much of a scratch paper collection, challenge yourself to cut back on random needless paper in other ways by letting store associates know ASAP that you don’t need a receipt printed or by swapping out your paper towels for reusable cloths. 

5. Turn off the tap. If you’re caught up in the rhythm of your morning or bedtime routine, you may find yourself walking away from the sink while you brush your teeth, leaving the sink on so you can multitask — deal with an upset kid, choose an outfit, make a sandwich — while you brush. Well, multitasking will be the death of all of us and the environment if that’s how we do it. Let’s put an end to it! Turn off the tap for the majority of your tooth-brushing ritual. Over the course of your lifetime, all that running water can really add up! 

6. Take control of junk mail. How much of your snail mail ends up in the garbage can or recycling bin before you even look at it? We’re willing to bet that the answer is some variation of a lot. Stop the madness and significantly reduce your paper waste by going paperless with your bank and utilities companies (you can usually adjust these settings online) and by removing your name from mailing lists with the help of DMAchoice. Your mailbox and the environment will both thank you.

7. Organize a carpool. Fewer cars on the road equals less dangerous emissions into the air we breathe. Invite some pals over, put out some wine and snacks (Crunchy Chickpeas, anyone?), and map out the driving you have planned over the next few weeks. Figure out where there’s overlap and start getting some carpools on the schedule, whether for yourself or your kid’s ride to school. Driving is more fun when you do it together, anyway.

8. Lay off the lights. Start paying closer attention to the way you use lights in your home or office. We get it — flicking light switches on and forgetting to flick them off is probably a reflex at this point, which is why it’s time to get intentional. Lights don’t need to stay on when you’re not in the room, right? Cutting back on electricity use helps the environment and reduces your electric bill, too.

9. Plant a tree. All it takes is a small plot of land and a shovel… and only a little time. Every tree creates an ecosystem and food for birds and other animals and improves the health of the atmosphere by absorbing carbon dioxide and releasing oxygen. Plus, it’s a super tangible way to show your love for Mother Earth and will serve as a constant visual reminder that you have the power to make a difference to the environment.

10. Go veg for a day. We’re not at all suggesting that you go completely meat-free — only that challenging yourself for a day of vegetarianism here and there is one way to show your solidarity with our planet. Many meat farmers and manufacturers fail to engage in eco-friendly practices, causing the loss of water and nutrients, plus water pollution. Play your part in supporting farmers you trust and easing that burden by once and a while taking it easy on your meat consumption now and then.

Source: https://lexiscleankitchen.com/help-the-environment/

[dracolord1208]

The Scientist and The Revolutionary

Dracolord1208

AO3

Summary:

After years of disinterest, Tracer decides to us the recall and restart Overwatch. Two new members of Overwatch will have to deal with the hardships of being heroes in these uncertain times. A failed mad Vishkar scientist named Junkrat and a Revolutionary commander named Symmetra who brought balance to India will have to work together and bring Overwatch back to greatness.

“Are you sure about this Lena?”

Tracer had been looking at her computer screen for a while her cursor hovering over the Recall Program for some time. “The world needs more heroes I have to activate the recall.”

“But Overwatch was disbanded for good reasons. The team became too unstable. Teammates were seen as expendable and were often left for dead.”

“That’s not going to happen this time Emily. This time I am going to lead the team. We aren’t going just to be an army that only cares about winning no matter the cost. This time we are going to be heroes. We save everyone no matter the risk. No one gets left behind, no one will be forgotten.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get the team back.”

After Overwatch was disbanded the members of the team found themselves scattered around the world. Tracer finally decided that enough time had passed and that the world would have to be ready because this time Overwatch was going to be its best.

The recall fired this widespread message across the world.

“The world could always have more heroes. When you go to sleep, do you think that you have done enough or do you feel like there was more you could do? Well, Overwatch is back for that purpose. We are going to be the heroes that this world needs.”

Soon enough Overwatch was back, with old and new faces joining.

One of the first people who joined Overwatch was a mad scientist that was done being ostracized by his peers, Jamison Fawkes A.K.A Junkrat.

Junkrat had been working as a Vishkar scientist for as long as he could remember. Vishkar had provided relief to Australia during the omnic crisis allowing Australia to mount a defensive against the omnic threat. During this time Jamison was recruited as a scientist due to his interest in chemistry. Jamison took to chemistry like no one could have predicted. He loved studying the chaos of the artificial world. He found that he enjoyed figuring out how the random nature of DNA would react to different chemicals. In time Jamison discovered that radioactive materials provided him the results he desired.

Jamison’s inventions, however, were not held to the same standard as he was. Although Jamison was a brilliant scientist that produced more inventions in a month than other researchers did in a year they often were seen as failures. His project was often dismissed as unsellable or non-practical with a majority of then being thrown in the trash. With this amount of junk, he was producing he was given the unfortunate nickname of Junkrat.

Junkrat did, however, create his signature equipment during this time. Junkrat built his microwave projector, isotope turrets, and his mobile teleporter. Junkrat’s style of fighting was designed to literary microwave his victim’s from the inside out. Jamison also carried a scavenged teleporter from the shutdown omnium, on his back so he can teleport his allies to his location at any time.

Junkrat joined Overwatch due to Vishkar’s constant pressure on him. While all of his inventions were marvelous leaps in scientific advancements converting them into practical and sellable versions was often impossible or unreasonably expensive Vishkar would deny all of them. Junkrat only decided he had enough of it so he decided to quit and join Overwatch with the hope that his inventions would be appreciated.

Another new member that replied to the recall was the legendary revolutionary leader of the Junkers Satya Vaswani A.K.A Symmetra.

Satya Vaswani would have been another name lost to poverty in Hyderabad if it were not for the Omnic crisis. People say that the omnic’s only came to India twice. The first wave was a complete massacre the omnic’s aimed to bring down the government to weaken the nation then come back to destroy the survivors. The second wave of omnics didn’t know what hit them. A girl whose family was lost to the first wave quickly organized a new fighting force, to combat the second wave. At sixteen she had an army under her control and with her brutally efficient strategies the omnic’s were beaten out of India within ten years.

Satya created her army from the ground up. She started by organizing the poor around her to raid the remnants of the war zone. Her small group is earning the name the Junker’s. As time passed, the Junker’s grew their forces into an efficient and brutal strike force. Satya in time became to be known as Symmetra for her role in bringing balance to India.

Symmetra personally specialized in explosives. She was able to craft shape charges that would render identical symmetrical explosions every time. She carried a grenade launcher that she wielded like a surgeon, with each round finding is a destination to cause the most damage possible. Symmetra was known for her shaped charges that would allow for her to drastically change the flow of battle by opening new paths in the field. Satya also carried around her GBB (Good Bye Bomb), this explosive was able to bring down entire buildings in a second if she wished.

Symmetra responded to the recall because she believed in the organization’s purpose. While Symmetra did not agree with Overwatch’s method, she decided that there needs to be a force of hope. Having to lead, a war Symmetra knew better than anyone else that hope for the future was the most compelling motivation on the planet. This time, however, Symmetra would make sure that Overwatch stayed the symbol of hope that she always knew it could be.

“Welcome to the team Symmetra.” Tracer was the first person to greet Symmetra as she arrived at the base.

“Thank you. I look forward to working together with you.”

“It’s an honor to work alongside you as well. Your reputation proceeds you, your exploits and skills will be much appreciated.”

“Your reputation is also well known. Tracer the best pilot the world has ever seen with the use of your slipstream you can instantly change the flow of battle with its teleportation technology. The skill it takes to take in your surroundings instantly and to react accordingly is something that I wish to see someday.”

“Aw shucks, flattery will get you far, but unfortunately, I am already taken.” Tracer then proceeded to show off her ring. “My wife would not be that happy with me if I strayed from the path.”

“Shame.” Symmetra responded while feigning to be much more distraught than she was.

“So how about a tour?”

“That would be lovely.”

Tracer then showed Symmetra all over the base.

“And here we have the workshop. This will be where you can work on restocking on your supplies. Oh, Junkrat is in there right now why don’t we get you two introduced.”

Junkrat what kind of name is that? As they entered the workshop, they observed Junkrat working on something inside of a glass box with his arms through gloves that gave him access to its interior.

“Only 400,000 milliRem!? By my calculations, this isotope should be producing another 75,000 milliRem at the minimum.” Junkrat had moved to read the results of his experiment as the two approached. Junkrat scratched at the stubble on his chin as he lifted an arm in frustration. He then began to type furiously on his computer without even noticing the women standing behind him.

“Hey Junkrat how’s it going.”

Jumping in his seat, Junkrat responded to Tracer without looking up from his computer. “’Ello, Tracer thought I told yah to stop calling me Junkrat.”

“Aw come on we’re heroes now we need code names and cool stuff like that.”

“Whatever. So what can I help you with today?”

“Well, this here is Symmetra.”

“Hello.”

“Yip!” Junkrat had finally turned to see the two of them. As Junkrat had turned, he was meet with the vision of an angel. This woman before him was the most impressive thing he had ever seen in his life. This lady in front of him with her beautiful black hair, her dark skin, and her rudimentary prosthetic arm was perfect.

Don’t fuck this up. Junkrat began to repeat this mantra in his head a hundred times a minute.

“Hello. Ho, who, who, hello?” Junkrat cursed at himself for stuttering.

“Hello.”

“Who are you? I don’t think we have had the pleasure of meeting before.”

“We haven’t. My name is Symmetra.”

“Symmetra! As in the Symmetra. The Symmetra that at sixteen raised an army to fight the omnics in India and won.”

“Yes that is me, and it sounds like you know me already, it is unfair that I do not know anything about you.”

“Oh well uh, I am uh Junkrat. Well, my names Jamison, Jamison Fawkes. I don’t like the name Junkrat, but it is my call sign so feel free to use it.”

“Well, what to do around here Jamison.”

Suddenly filled with pride Jamison started to explain his role. “Well, I am the team, resident mad scientist. Hahaha. I work here to create new tech for the team to use. When I used to work for Vishkar, they would go out of their way to deny all sorts of my tech due to the cost of production. But here at Overwatch, I can make anything I want and as long as it’s useful someone will use it.”

Symmetra had since begun to go through the lab and was observing all of the different inventions that he had made. “You created all of this?”

“Yep.”

“Amazing. During the war, we had to scrap both sides of the war to get weapons and armor, if we had someone as adept as creating tools as you are we probably could have won even faster. This is very impressive.”

“No, you don’t have to flatter me.”

“No I mean it is very impressive. I can’t wait to work together.”

Junkrat felt his eyes begin to sting with the tale tail signs of tears. Jamison had wanted that level of recognition his entire life and this new woman standing in front of him had said everything like it was nothing. “I love you,” Junkrat whispered as he turned around and to cover his face with his arm.

“What was that?”

“Thank you, I am also looking forward to working together with you.”

“Have a good day.”

“You two.”

Symmetra and Tracer left the workshop and continued their tour.

“So Jamison, is he also taken?”

“Who that goof? No, why?”

“No reason, just thinking out loud.”

Notes:

Howdy. So I really like this universe, and I have a lot of ideas of what I can do with it, so there will probably be a second chapter at the minimum, and this could even be bigger depending on feedback. I hope you all have a good week and life. I love all of you. My Tumblr is http://dracolord1208.tumblr.com/

Series this work belongs to:

« Part 4 of the Draco's Junkmetra Week series

[faucetdouble51-blog]

10 Things You Can Do to Help The Environment Now

It’s a big world we’re living in, and a big planet means big problems. Even as we focus a little extra attention on loving on the Earth this month, the environmental issues at hand — air pollution, poor waste management, water scarcity, climate change, and more — are so overwhelming that it can feel much easier to cross our fingers and hope that big-picture efforts to right the ship can fix it. Right? We get it. 

We get it, but we want to empower you to do more than just cross your fingers. As intimidating as these literal planet-sized problems can feel, there are small steps that each of us can take to contribute to the solution — so small, in fact, that you can execute on them today, tomorrow, definitely this week. We wrote a post on ways we’re reducing plastic in our homes, and here are ten other ways to start.

Like, right now. 

1. Streamline your errands. Errands can be a total drag, but you can turn them into a game and love on the environment in the process by challenging yourself to condense that long list of to-dos as much as possible. Map out your route before you get started (maybe while you snack on a Banana Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Muffin?) and see how many of your must-do errands can be squeezed into one trip out of the house — and minimal mileage. You’ll save time for yourself and cut back on the amount of time spent on the road, which is great for air quality. 

2. Donate to a food kitchen. Get ahead of the inevitable temptation to toss unused food and pantry items by gathering a box of things to donate right now. Find a local food kitchen, food bank, or other organization that needs what you already have and help them out. Getting proactive about culling your refrigerator and cabinets before your kitchen gets out of control will ensure that you don’t go on a full-on KonMari tear down the road, filling your garbage can with packaging and food that others would be happy to have. 

3. Buy in bulk. If you find yourself restocking certain non-perishable items on a seemingly constant basis, it may be time to consider buying those items in larger quantities. When you buy in bulk, you cut back on the amount of packaging you consume, thus minimizing waste. You’ll also save yourself time in running future errands. Racking up wins everywhere! 

4. Start saving scratch paper. Our world is mostly paperless these days, but it never hurts to have some paper around for making grocery lists and jotting down random notes to self. We love cute stationery as much as the next person, but let’s be real: all those sweet little notepads decorated with flowers or seasonal fruit are a needless expense and another place for us to be wasteful. Start collecting flyers, mail, and other scratch paper that still have plenty of space for your own writing. If you can’t see yourself building up much of a scratch paper collection, challenge yourself to cut back on random needless paper in other ways by letting store associates know ASAP that you don’t need a receipt printed or by swapping out your paper towels for reusable cloths. 

5. Turn off the tap. If you’re caught up in the rhythm of your morning or bedtime routine, you may find yourself walking away from the sink while you brush your teeth, leaving the sink on so you can multitask — deal with an upset kid, choose an outfit, make a sandwich — while you brush. Well, multitasking will be the death of all of us and the environment if that’s how we do it. Let’s put an end to it! Turn off the tap for the majority of your tooth-brushing ritual. Over the course of your lifetime, all that running water can really add up! 

6. Take control of junk mail. How much of your snail mail ends up in the garbage can or recycling bin before you even look at it? We’re willing to bet that the answer is some variation of a lot. Stop the madness and significantly reduce your paper waste by going paperless with your bank and utilities companies (you can usually adjust these settings online) and by removing your name from mailing lists with the help of DMAchoice. Your mailbox and the environment will both thank you.

7. Organize a carpool. Fewer cars on the road equals less dangerous emissions into the air we breathe. Invite some pals over, put out some wine and snacks (Crunchy Chickpeas, anyone?), and map out the driving you have planned over the next few weeks. Figure out where there’s overlap and start getting some carpools on the schedule, whether for yourself or your kid’s ride to school. Driving is more fun when you do it together, anyway.

8. Lay off the lights. Start paying closer attention to the way you use lights in your home or office. We get it — flicking light switches on and forgetting to flick them off is probably a reflex at this point, which is why it’s time to get intentional. Lights don’t need to stay on when you’re not in the room, right? Cutting back on electricity use helps the environment and reduces your electric bill, too.

9. Plant a tree. All it takes is a small plot of land and a shovel… and only a little time. Every tree creates an ecosystem and food for birds and other animals and improves the health of the atmosphere by absorbing carbon dioxide and releasing oxygen. Plus, it’s a super tangible way to show your love for Mother Earth and will serve as a constant visual reminder that you have the power to make a difference to the environment.

10. Go veg for a day. We’re not at all suggesting that you go completely meat-free — only that challenging yourself for a day of vegetarianism here and there is one way to show your solidarity with our planet. Many meat farmers and manufacturers fail to engage in eco-friendly practices, causing the loss of water and nutrients, plus water pollution. Play your part in supporting farmers you trust and easing that burden by once and a while taking it easy on your meat consumption now and then.

Source: https://lexiscleankitchen.com/help-the-environment/

[kansascityhappenings]

30 day plan to remove clutter from house this fall

KANSAS CITY, Mo. — Right after Halloween and before the holiday rush is a perfect time to do some fall cleaning. Sure, everyone likes to get in a frenzy about spring cleaning, but now is a good time to concentrate on your home and avoid hunkering down too soon for the hibernation season.

Cleaning up your household and keeping some movement in your body can also help prevent weight gain from all the food gatherings about to happen in the near future. Here is a 30 day plan to keep your house clean and to ultimately help you declutter.

Before you get started, strategize. Make a note of your personal clutter “hot spots.” The table by the back door? Your bathroom counter? Underneath the bed? Make a note of these spaces and then set your notes aside. You can swap in these “hot spot” days with challenges below that are not as relevant to you.

Before getting to the clean sweep, you need four boxes for keeping, donating, recycling, and trash. You can have a “maybe” box if you’re really confused by an item or two when you get into the cleaning process. If things stay in the maybe box for 6 months, it probably can be thrown away or donated.

Day 1. Make room now for new sweaters. Go through your closet and see what you don’t wear anymore. There are several clothing shelters and churches that would be happy to take your used clothes. Your kids may have outgrown their clothes as well. Try to donate clothes that are still in good condition. A piece of clothing covered in holes might be better suited for dusting. Give yourself a goal before you start diving into the closet: are you going to fill up 3 trash bags with clothes for donations or one giant box? If an item doesn’t fit, let it go. Right now your focus should be to make room for clothes that do fit. A pro tip for clearing out clothes you don’t use: at the beginning of the year, flip all your hangers to the wrong side. As you wear something, flip the hanger for that item to the opposite, more easy to reach direction. When the year is over all the clothes that still face the wrong direction are the ones you haven’t worn.

Day 2. Clean up the closets. Now it’s time to rearrange closets in the house. You can go to TJ Maxx, Target, or Ikea for closet storage ideas. Shelves for shoes are lifesavers. You can arrange your clothes by season or by color to make it easier for you to get dressed for work. Be on the lookout for stinky shoes that may need to be thrown out altogether or need some TLC. When cleaning out the closet, make sure you get rid of any extra trash, paper, or plastic – you can easily recycle this stuff. Make sure if there are any important documents to put them together with other important pieces — it’s best to have a folder ready for these items, you can label the folder “to be filed.” Repeat this for other closets in the house. See what you don’t need, donate, and let go. Check to see if there are any coats hanging out in the coat closest that you may have kept for a few too many decades.

Day 3. Clean the refrigerator. You may have collected a few new sauces, salad dressings, and other items over the year that you’re not using and are just filing up space. Several of these bottles are recyclable. Do a good clean scrubbing of the fridge, use a combo of 1 cup vinegar and 2 cups water to get rid of stains. Make sure you don’t have any old leftovers hiding in the back. Anything with mold needs to be thrown away. Even though you might not see the mold throughout bread, cheese, or other items – any sign of mold means it has spread, and not all mold is visible to the eye. If you’re a pack rat and love to put things on the fridge, some of those items now need to move to a scrapbook or memento box. Cut the fridge decorations in half.

Day 4. Clean the pantry. Look through the pantry to see if you can find any expired foods, those need to be tossed out first. If there are any foods still in good shape but you doubt you’ll actually eat, now is a good time to donate them to a food pantry. It’s good to look through the pantry and make sure there are no cobwebs. Dust down the shelves, combine packages like multiple spaghetti boxes, and consider adding a spice rack to the Christmas list if you don’t have one already.

Day 5. Clean out the cutlery. Maybe you have had a lot of dishes passed down to you, multiple wedding gifts, or grandparents who died and willed their dishes to you, plus the cheesy ones you may have bought in college. If your kitchen is feeling crowded – or there are plenty of items never getting used – consider minimizing this. Plenty of donation places or food pantries will accept these items. You’ll want to call ahead to see if they’ll take them. Religious sites often will take these supplies. Sharpen the knives if they’re starting to get dull, spend time arranging the items if everything is in chaos, and restock the cleaning supplies under the sink if they’re looking lackluster. Also, if those cleaning supplies are getting old, it may be time to declutter there as well. If you have appliances you never use nor plan to use, let it go.

Day 6. Clean out the basement. If you have cords that you haven’t used in 10 years, it may be time to say goodbye to those. There usually are a few boxes in the basement that never get touched. It may be time to say goodbye to those boxes, or maybe they need to be rearranged. If you have lots of pictures, those could be put into scrapbooks or binders and put on shelves to help with space. It’s also a better form of preservation rather than being lumped together in boxes.

One basement cleaning method is to dump out all the boxes and force yourself to interact with the objects and see how you can put them into a practical space, or flat out get rid of the stuff. This plan might also be stressful, so think before dumping items everywhere. You’ll want to put things in four different zones: KEEP – DONATE – RECYCLE – TRASH. Label things if you haven’t. Lookout for unnecessary duplicates.

Empty everything one section at a time. Divide stuff into sections.

Group like things together. Assess your inventory. Purchase storage containers as necessary, remove duplicates as necessary.

Sort, stack, and label.

Day 7. Clean out bathrooms. Some of us have a bad habit of hoarding bathroom supplies. We’re not hoarding dragons; we’re humans with good taste, so stop keeping things you don’t need. It’s best to clean all the bathrooms at once to see if there are duplicate items. Don’t be afraid to open all the drawers and cabinets and throw away junk. Now might be a good time to recycle bottles and cut down on the products to the ones actually in use. Old lotion bottles sitting around collecting dust are doing no one any favors. Read labels carefully to see if anything has expired. Make sure to clean down all the surfaces, give the toilets a scrub, and use cleaner on the showers and bathtubs. Look for any extra soap gunk or other unwanted critters.

Day 8. Fill 2 bags with trash or recycling. Instead of focusing on a specific room, go around the house filling two bags with things that can immediately be discarded, whether for trash or recycling. Continue the process around the house until you have filled those two bags. Make sure not to throw away anything important. Some culprits for trash: old mail, candy wrappers, opened up packages, bizarre crafts, and excessive knick-knacks. Forcing yourself to get rid of trash around the house will help you to declutter and examine areas of the house that need extra sprucing up. If you have discovered a new clutter “hot spot” add that to the list you made before getting into the fall clean sweep.

Day 9. Clean out your car. Spend a couple of bucks and go get a car wash. Remove the trash in the car and use a vacuum to suck up trash, leaves, and other chunks of things that collect in the car. Look through your glove box and see if there are old files in it. Do you need paper insurance or do you have an insurance app on your phone with your IDs? Either way, one paper insurance copy will suffice in the glove box. Keep your title and other important documents, maybe the last bill from when you went to the mechanic. Most papers that are more than a year old are probably not important anymore and can be thrown away. You can put things that do seem special in your “to be filed” folder. Make sure to open up your trunk and see if there are extra items in there that you don’t need. The things you should have are: jumper cables, a spare tire, a tool kit, and a first aid kit.

Day 10. Cutting down on objects. Today you’ll be practicing the KonMari method. Marie Kondo is a famous organizing consultant from Japan. Her method of organizing is known as the KonMari method, and consists of gathering together all of your belongings one category at a time, and then keeping only those things that “spark joy” (tokimeku,the word in Japanese, means “flutter, throb, palpitate”), and choosing a place for everything for the items you keep. We’re going to simplify this somewhat. Take about 50-60 questionable items into the living room with you and hold each item for about 30 seconds and ask yourself – does this item bring me joy or did it used to bring me joy? If it used to bring you joy and serves no purpose anymore, great – it belongs in the donation or trash pile. This method can obviously take a long time if you go through the whole house, for some maybe a couple of hours – for others a process that could be done over months. The idea is to not hold onto so many items that really just flood the household.

Day 11. Clearing out paperwork. It is now time to go through all the bills, receipts, papers, everything building up and toss it out or shred and recycle it. Spend at most 2 hours collecting the items and deciding what to do with it. Any other papers floating around can be solved another day. You don’t need all those papers sitting there distracting you and building in the house. If you do need a certain paper, it needs to be in a folder in a designated place. You may have some papers that are also digital copies. You can use those instead of have multiple medical files, tax files, etc. Do keep papers that you need to make an action with and one folder for items that need to be filed.

Day 12. Clean out linen closet. If you have a linen closet overflowing, it may be time to get rid of some of the older linens you never use. Often homeless shelters or animal shelters will use linens that are still in good condition. Toss any items that are really dingy and in bad condition into recycling. It’s a good idea to pull everything out and wash down the shelves, look for cobwebs, and actually go through each linen to see what you really have in stock and if you have too much surplus. Maybe all your children have grown up and could use some of those linens or maybe you just had a breakup and getting rid of some shared items that remind you of your ex would be a happy reprieve.

Day 13. Throw out old makeup. Toss anything that has been expired, anything cracked, or anything that you’re not even sure what it is. Try to condense down to your essentials with makeups. Also, go ahead and give all the brushes you use a wash. Maybe some of the brushes need to be tossed. To clean the brushes:

Wet the bristles with lukewarm water.

Massage gentle soap such as Dawn or baking soda into the bristles.

Rinse the bristles and clear out the soap.

Squeeze out the excess moisture with a clean towel.

Reshape brush heads.

Let dry on a towel.

Day 14. Sort jewelry. Look through your jewelry and see if you have broken, tarnished, or missing pieces. Some of these could be donated, some of them may be in bad enough condition that you should throw them into recycling. Consider buying a jewelry box if you haven’t got one already — or add it to the Christmas list. If you have an expensive piece of jewelry – like a diamond – don’t just recycle it. If it has problems, schedule time for a repair or for professional maintenance. If you have way too much jewelry, consider giving some to family members who might like it. This could also make for an easy Christmas gift.

Day 15. Setup healthcare appointments. This is a day for you to declutter your life by cutting down on the appointments you haven’t setup. The nice part about fall cleaning is that you may realize you haven’t seen certain doctors this year. Now is a good time to setup those dentist, eye doctor, and other appointments. Maybe you haven’t taken the dog or cat to see the veterinarian; now is the time to get those weird things they do checked out. Decluttering is about making healthier living space for you, and working on your individual health is one way to free up your time and space.

Day 16. Clean out sock and underwear drawer. If you haven’t already, it’s time to throw out all the old socks and underwear you don’t use anymore. If it has a hole in it, don’t bother with it anymore. These are easily replaceable items, so don’t hold onto things that are old and ratty. Some clothing items are good after only so many uses.

Day 17. Clean out laundry room. If you have old products, it’s time to dispose of them. Look around for cobwebs and other dust that needs to be removed. See if you have accidentally been hiding clothes that need to go to a closet instead. Consider adding a shelf if things are too messy or scattered. Make sure the laundry room is about the laundry room and not something else. It should be easy to cut back on the clutter in this room.

Day 18. Give things a home. Go around the house and find 5-15 things that don’t have a place, and find them a place. Put it on a shelf, put it with like items, but don’t just stuff it back into your closet. That’s cheating, and it doesn’t work.

Day 19.  Scrub those floors down. When is the last time your floors have had a good scrubbing? It’s time to mop, sweep, vacuum, and maybe hire professionals to clean up the carpets. There are some nasty critters that can multiply in carpets, and dirty tracks around the house can make you sick. Doing a good floor cleaning can be good exercise. Mop the floors down and really give it extra elbow grease. Your goal is to make the floor as spotless as possible, which can be challenging with kids and animals. Move furniture so you can clean areas that haven’t been cleaned in ages. Take really good note of your floors for the first time. Is there something in the way of them being clean? Also, scrub down all the baseboards – get rid of that dirt and dust.

Day 20. Clean out your office. Start with all the papers that have piled up. Put them in stacks: “to file,” “to do,” and “to toss.” File your records in a way that makes sense to you. Records older than seven years can likely be tossed out (that’s the length of time lawyers are legally required to keep their own records.) Clean off the desk; look for knick-knacks you don’t need. Limit how many knick-knacks you have on your desk: maybe 5. Throw away things you haven’t used in a year. Empty out all the drawers and go through the items one by one. Get rid of old planners, expired coupons, etc. Take stock of your supplies, and purchase drawer organizers that will accommodate your belongings.

Day 21. Clean out toys. Your kids or pets might not like this, but if there are a lot of toys, especially old and tattered – it might be time to get rid of some, donate them, and upgrade to other toys. Sometimes the kids will help you if they know the toys are going to a good cause. Helping them to let go of toys will help them better handle decluttering when they are older. Too many toys can be a way for bacteria to spread. If your pets are not using certain toys, or if they have several that are chewed up – just toss them out. Your pets won’t mind not seeing them or getting new toys to challenge their minds. It’s good to cycle pet toys so they don’t get tired of them, so you can put some away for a couple of months in storage and cycle through them every so often.

Day 22. Scrub down the kitchen. Sprinkle salt into the kitchen sink and scrub with a cut lemon. If you have old, gross brushes, those can be tossed. Mix 1 cup of vinegar with 2 cups water and wash down all the counters and places where your family eats. Baking soda can be used to clean just about anything. You should scrub these counters daily, but try giving them more of your elbows this time. Also, scrub down handles, look for any mysterious marks, and scrub down appliances that haven’t been cleaned in a while – the coffee pot is a likely culprit.

Day 23. Clean your digital devices. Backup important files on a hard drive or flash drives. Go through your computer and see if you can get more space. Your computer will run better this way. Try to reduce the number of marks on your desktop. Remove apps you don’t use and are taking up space. Delete items you no longer need. Maybe you have some old computer game boxes from the early 2000s that no longer serve you. Clean up and sort the files on your computer. You can also spend the day cleaning up your social media presence. Check to see if your privacy settings are set at their best level, see if there are pictures you would want in a physical copy, and see what you can minimize on your profile. Maybe it’s time to update your LinkedIn or your relationship status. If you’ve broken up with someone in the recent past, maybe it’s time to delete some pictures off Instagram. Also, check to see if you’re behind on any emails, texts, private messages and the like. If you have several social media accounts, delete one of them.

Day 24. Declutter the backyard. Maybe you have a shed, maybe you have a crazy dog who finds things, or maybe your children like to take all their toys out for a sunny stroll. One way or another, the backyard shouldn’t be cluttered. When mowing the yard for the last time before winter, make sure to take stock of what’s making your yard messy and how you can manage that now.

Day 25. Craft supplies. For those of you who are artists, this may be a nightmare. Look through your crafts collection and see if you have any old paints, excessive amounts of certain supplies, or other things that honestly could be donated to a church or school. Try to get your items down to what is relevant and remove what you won’t miss or what causes unnecessary pain. Clean your paintbrushes; throw out ones that are not going to get better. Invest in new shelving devices if necessary.

Day 26. Second trash bag day. Go around the house again and throw away items that can be tossed out into at least 2 bags. These can be items sent to recycling. Keep going around the house until you fill up those 2 bags or boxes. If you fail at doing this, go through your closets again to find items you can donate or toss out entirely.

Day 27. The “hot spot” cleanup. Dealers choice here, but if you started this declutter assignment by writing down your household “hot spots” for clutter, now is the time to target two or more of those areas (if any still exist). Clean and break these spots down like a champ, and come up with a method for it to never be infiltrated again. It’s your job to liberate the space.

Day 28. Donation day. If you haven’t already, it’s time to take your donation items to places that will accept them, whether Goodwill, religious drives, or schools. You may have to make a few phone calls to plan this out. Label objects that you know will be going to a specific person.

Day 29. Clean out wallet, backpack, and purse. This should be an easy day. Go through your belongings where you carry your money and other daily essentials and cut it down to just that. You don’t need to be carrying around gum wrappers, receipts, and the like. If your wallet or purse are in bad shape – it’s time to go replace it. This can also be a nice item for the holiday shopping list.

Day 30. The final sprint, 5,000 steps of cleaning. To make really sure that your house is clean, go around the house sprucing things up till you’ve hit 5,000 steps on the odometer. Most smartphones have an odometer under the health section. 5,000 steps is about 50 minutes of regular non-stop walking. With cleaning interrupting your walking, this can add a lot of time. This final day might take you awhile. If you’re really ambitious and really want to be a clean guru – up the steps and shoot for a full day of cleaning with 10,000 steps of chores. Reward yourself with some ice cream when you reach your goal.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2018/11/03/30-day-plan-to-remove-clutter-from-house-this-fall/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/11/03/30-day-plan-to-remove-clutter-from-house-this-fall/

[krystiangorak-blog]

5 Ways To Budget Friendly Keto

Switching to an entirely new dietning plan can be daunting and scary. No matter how many times I say that Keto is in reality very simple once you make the switch, people who I talk to always have doubts. Honestly the hardest things is making the first step… But in the process of me trying to get more people on board of the healthy train(Keto), I feel like I need to write this guide/article. One of the huge concerns of mine when I was starting, as well as a reason why people don’t take the leap is the cost. Listen, I get it, carbs are cheap, easy and quick. Getting fats in could be a little more challenging or costly, but today I’m gonna give you 5 ways I have used to make keto appealing to any budget.

Buy bulk

This one is probably not as obvious to the younger keto-ers, but should be straightforward to everyone. A lot of people ask how do I meal prep and how I only go shopping like once or twice a week? That is exactly how, I buy bulk. Be it meat, cottage cheese, brie cheese, butter, water or salt… whatever I’m buying, I’m looking for bulk. Items which are sold together are more likely to be discounted and you also don’t have to pay for the man time of unpacking them.

NOTE: When I buy meat, I will leave enough for 2-3 days worth of meals and freeze the rest, to keep the freshness.

Avoid recipes

You can’t deny it, when you type in keto into any search box you will find hundreds if not thousands of recipes specifically made to advertise some sort of keto product or, which are pointlessly complicated. On top of that they also require stuff like Almond Flour, Atlantic Salmon, Extra Exclusive Virgin Olive Oil or some other expensive ingredient. They could also try to promote some kind of special MCT Oil, Keto Powder or other worthless supplements.

Even though those products are really healthy, they just aren’t needed. Stick to basics, especially at the beginning. I really don’t want to make this article too long so if you want to know how to make up your own simple keto recipes and you want to know exactly what to buy, you can read my Ultimate Simple Keto Starting Guide here https://krystiangorak.tumblr.com/post/173445643326/ultimate-simple-keto-starting-guide

Shop online for certain things

This will be highly dependant on the country you live in. In most european countries as well as the United States, you are better off getting some products online. Main ones being nuts, coconut oil, MCT Oil, electrolyte supplements etc. When doing so, refer to first advice I gave in this article. The more you order, the more you will save on shipping and you might also catch a nice bulk discount.

Plan your eating day/week

This is super crucial, so listen up. I have an exercise for you to make this a fun learning experience. Plan that you only shop once or maximum twice a week and then plan exactly what you will need for the next 3 or more days. Always start with the basics like meats, veggies, fats, and dairy and then work your snack into the mix. Make a list, and only get what is on it. After you get home meal prep straight away or the same day. This should prevent you from snacking and running out of foods which you had planned, also not forcing you to go to restock early. A little evil chain reaction.

Avoid eating out

I want to be 100% clear here, I’M NOT TELLING YOU TO NOT EAT OUT. All I’m saying is that, if you are on a budget, how does paying a full price for a reduced portion sound? Some places will serve you the same portion but without the bun, fries or potatoes on the side(for the same price), will refuse to change their meals or will straight up not serve you at all. Poland isn’t a very keto friendly place so all of those happen to me on a regular basis. If you are living in a little more nutrition-conscious developed country though, you should be able to to ask on reddit or keto Facebook pages for good low-carb friendly places.

If prior to starting keto you were a fast/junk food kind of person, you will see how much you were really spending on that type of a lifestyle. Keto will not be so costly when you do the calculation.

So there you have it, these are all the things I go by to keep my keto budget under control. Now you have 1 less excuse to start your journey to a much healthier place! Keep calm and keep keto.

[brightandmorningstar]

Garcinia Cambogia Pros And Cons To Consider

Works good for me. I have only been taking product a week and have lost 3lbs already. With the right diet and just walking 4x a week. Really changed my diet and have followed directions on box from product. Will remain using product for as long as needed. Very reasonable price.

All orders are shipped out within 24 hours (except for those ordered on weekends and holidays). They are also sent in discreet packaging at no extra cost- unlike some others we received that had embarrassing slogans emblazoned across the packaging. To top it off, this company offers an unprecedented 365 day risk-free trial. If for whatever reason customers are not 100% satisfied, at any point within a calendar year, they can ship the bottles back for a full refund. Now that's a guarantee we can get behind! I did receive a couple of emails prior to me understanding the product didn't work for me and before my review posted from the customer service representative Richard. I let him know ultimately what I wrote above and he said that their customer satisfaction is their top priority and refunded my purchase price because it didn't work for me. Although it didn't work for me I am giving 5 stars because the customer service is amazing.

They shipped it to me and Ive been trying the garcinia and like it but not that much! I was just laid off my job and cant afford this stuff. Then yesterday, Sunday 8/14/16, I have a pending charge for 69.95 on my paypal account. I called paypal and they said they can't reverse it until it shows processed. Now, today I have the same 69.95 charge and another 79.95 charge showing pending. I just called the Aura Slim company and they are letting me ship the Forskolin back and I have to pay for shipping and a 15% restocking fee. The only thing she could offer for the Garcinia is a 50% discount on this order and future orders. So they are refunding 50% and then I have to call back before 09/13/16 to cancel. After the fact, I went back to the site and on the form in size 4 font are the terms and conditions. Always look for the fine print.

Consider liquid garcinia. The second form that you can take of garcinia is liquid. The liquid form of garcinia usually recommends taking 1-2 drops before every meal, but the amount can vary based on the dropper or concentration. Take the drop or drops under your tongue and let them stay for a minute or so. Then, have your regular meal 30-60 minutes later. Other ingredients - HCA is an ingredient that can work wonders on its own. Generally, these supplements don't need many other ingredients in order to work effectively. With that being said, some products do contain added ingredients that can help. For example, black pepper extract is often added because it helps the body absorb nutrients, which leads to a more effective overall supplement. Some ingredients are added and can be beneficial, but you'll want to steer clear of products with fillers or other junk. This is a natural weight loss product that is produced from the rind of the tamarind fruit, which is actually a little, pumpkin-like fruit that is grown in certain parts of South East Asia. What is particularly interesting regarding this extract is that it is not a metabolic enhancer, and so you won't suffer the normal adverse reactions which you would probably get with the majority of weight loss products. When it comes to good quality products, particularly, adverse reactions definitely are a rarity, as testified to through the check out garcinia zt many evaluations available on the internet. Even though Garcinia Cambogia is usually taken in pill form, it is still considered a natural weight loss supplement, and it does not have side effects. It is extracted from a fruit from which it got its name, and this fruit has long been used in traditional medicine and as an aid for losing weight in Southeast Asian countries such as Thailand and Indonesia. It has been made available in the pill form so that everyone can have easy access to it and its benefits since the fruit is not easily available to everybody. This should be consumed between 30-60 minutes before meals and should be taken three times a day. The effect of the supplement is noticed within a short time especially when combined with other healthy activities such as exercises and eating a balance diet. But the recommended period where the user of the supplement will be able to see optimum results is six to eight weeks. Overall, the bottom line is this: garcinia cambogia can help you speed your weight loss efforts by blocking fat storage and reducing hunger cravings. In clinical trials, results have been promising but inconclusive. Garcinia cambogia can certainly help you lose weight quicker, but it's not the miracle drug” some people are touting it as. When combined with diet and exercise, these supplements can be highly effective - but you'll need to put in some work, too!

[shiftythrifting]

We just restocked paper packs, sticker packs, keychains, McFurbies, and action figures!

The Junk Box store is open again!

We moved our mystery boxes and random nonsense store to a more secure platform, it's loading faster with a way better checkout process! Admin Sam and I will be putting more boxes together this week!

You want the thrift store experience delivered? We got you. Check our reveal tag to see what other folks got!

shop.shiftythrifting.com

[shiftythrifting]

Junk Boxes have restocked!

If you want to get a thrifted mystery box, grab it today cause I’ll be having oral surgery and out of commission for a couple days after tomorrow.

We got big mlp, big doll parts, plush, squishmallows, buttons and pins, horses, mini boxes, books, and more! If you don’t see it, it already sold.

https://shop.shiftythrifting.com