#we had to empty the trash cans and use them as buckets to bail the water into the shower until maintenance got there 👍

[leezuhh]

you guys may have noticed that i have been generally been less active/inactive on tumblr. this is because my apartment flooded. 👍

[harringrovetrashrat]

(Y’all can thank @warheadache and the Keg Gang discord for this cracky, but honestly great, AU.)

“We’ve got some time before we need to meet with the team,” Valkyrie said, checking her watch.  They wandered through the nearly empty mall, only a few stragglers left behind.  The humans gave the Asgardians wide eyed stares, but ultimately left them alone.  Thor hummed, a warm smile on his face.

“We should get a treat,” he said, eyeing the ice cream parlor ahead of them.

“I’m not sharing with the rest of them,” Valkyrie said, crossing her arms.  “Besides, I doubt ice cream would make it through the time jump.”

“If it is good cream, we should at least attempt to bring enough to give to our friends,” he replied, pushing the door open.  The jingling of the bell drew Steve’s attention from where he was mopping the floor.  He groaned.

“Seriously?  We’re literally about to close,” he muttered, tossing the mop back in the bucket and wiping his hands on his apron.  “Ahoy matey--” Steve’s voice choked off as he turned and looked, face to face with two of the most gorgeous people he’d ever seen in his life.  The man was tall, like, taller than Hopper, and he was built like a fucking house.  His smile, however, was bright and warm.  Like a teddy bear who loved to give hugs.  Steve could barely tear his eyes away from the beard, the long hair done up in a bun, the man’s arms.  “Uh--” He stammered, face turning red.  This was too much.  He was already aware that he maybe kinda liked guys, maybe kinda wanted to hold Billy’s hand and suck his dick, but this guy was like a god.

“Hello, little Sailor Man!” The man boomed, his voice filling up the space with a joyous ring.  “Would you be so kind as to prepare us a pint of your finest cream?” There was a choking sound from the booth where Billy had set himself up, but Steve was unable to move, unable to even turn his head.

“And make it quick,” his friend said, her voice bored as she looked at her nails.  Steve was struck by the fact that her arms bulged from under her t-shirt, the way her baby hairs curled around her face.

“Kyrie,” the man scolded.  “Manners.”

“Okay,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “But if that puny little tech man makes one more jab--”

“Just--” Steve stammered, trying to get his tongue to work.  “Lemme just--” And he ran behind the counter, eyes darting for Robin.  He found her behind the counter, face red as she stared at the wall.  “Robin!” He hissed.  She looked at him and shook her head.  She mouthed ‘She’s too hot’ and didn’t make any move to get up.  Steve gave the two a strained smile, trying not to stare too blatantly.

Billy watched, hand clenching the vanilla cone he had ordered.  It cracked and shattered, ice cream bursting out and oozing down his hand.  He jerked, looking down at the ruined cone in shock.  With a frown and a grumble, he stomped up to the counter.  Steve’s beautiful brown eyes were locked on the man, and Billy was pretty sure he’d been red since the two had stepped foot in here.  It made his blood boil.  What did that guy have that he didn’t?  Height, he supposed, but Nancy had been short--

“What can I get for you?” Steve’s voice was pitched high, the way it went when he was nervous, and Billy scowled deeper.

“Ooh,” the woman said, pointing into the case.  “That one.  It has rum in the name.” The man gave a hearty chuckle and it sounded like the sun on the fields.  It made Billy’s heart sink.  The guy was not only hot, but seemed to be sunshine personified and Billy was, well, not.  So he did what he did best.

“Harrington,” he drawled, tossing the ruined cone into the trash as he walked up to the front, somehow grabbing Steve’s attention.  “You got any napkins?  Had a spill.” He smiled, holding up his hand.  Steve blinked and Billy couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help that he wanted Steve so badly, “Or should I just lick it up?” It got him a laugh from the two, and he shot them a disdainful look.  Neither seemed bothered by it.  The man seemed to think it was funny, but the woman… She looked all too knowing.  So he looked back at Steve, who was staring at Billy’s hand.  Before he could say anything more, Robin popped up, shoving a wet rag at him as she avoided eye contact.  Before she could retreat, Steve grabbed her arm.

“Rob, why don’t you get this lady her Rum Raisin.” She gave him a weak glare, but grabbed her scoop.  Billy wiped off his hand and went back to wipe the table, glaring daggers at the tall man.

“Sailor Steve,” the man said, all charming and handsome and Billy wanted to punch him so badly-- “What flavor would you recommend?”

“Well, you could-- Did you-- We do taste tests,” he babbled, like he did when he was worked up.  Billy clenched the rag tighter, making cloudy water drip onto the table.

“Fantastic!  I’ll try each one!” As Steve got to work grabbing tiny spoons handing each flavor over and watching the way he licked each drop of ice cream from the spoon, Robin attempted to fill a pint with Rum Raisin.  She scooped, glancing up to look at the woman, who was leaning against the glass, a wicked smile on her face.  Robin dropped the scoop on the floor, her brain screeching like a blue screen on a computer.

“Here,” Billy said, dropping the wet rag onto the counter with a slap.  Steve barely looked at him.  “Listen, Harrington,” he said, snapping his fingers to get the boy’s attention, ignoring the pit growing in his stomach.  Because this guy was-- Even Billy could barely look away from him.  Like, he was sculpted from fucking marble.  “I’m gonna head out--” That finally grabbed Steve’s attention.

“What?  I thought we were gonna hang out,” he said, handing over the final taste test as he side stepped Robin, who had gotten the pint half full.  The amount on the floor, however, was definitely bigger.  The woman was watching, a tiny taste test spoon in her mouth.  She swirled her tongue around it and Billy watched Robin drop yet another scoop of Rum Raisin.

“We can talk about it later,” Billy replied, sniffing and frowning.  “You got customers.” Steve blushed again, looking at the man.  He was pressed to the glass, face serious as he mumbled about which flavor to get.  Then Steve frowned.

“When has that made a diff--”

“I’ll talk to you later, Harrington,” Billy said, cutting him off.  There was a light flush on his scowling face and he shoved his hands in his pockets, turning to leave.

“Robin,” Steve said, ignoring her pleading look, “Can you help uh, help him too?  Just, gimme a minute--”

“You are not bailing on me, dingus,” she hissed, finally finishing off the pint.  She hadn’t looked away from the scoop.  The man clapped his hands together, the sound loud and echoing through the empty shop.

“Fine, just-- Billy!” He stopped, turning to look at Steve face blank.  “Just, please wait?  Please?” And Billy couldn’t tell those brown eyes no.  He couldn’t.  So he huffed and leaned against one of the tables, glowering in the tall, handsome man’s general direction.

“I have decided!” He boomed.  Steve looked back at the man, still unused to the genuine and wild excitement that poured off of him.  He flushed again, grabbing his scoop.  “One pint of the Mint Chocolate Chip, one Birthday Cake, and one USS Butterscotch, please.” Steve nodded, serving up the pints.  “Tell me, Sailor Steve,” he said, tone light, “Is it a joy to serve sweet cream to the people everyday?” Steve choked on his saliva a little bit.

“I mean, it’s better than nothing,” he replied, laughing weakly.  “Nothing like scooping ice cream to build up arm muscles.” Billy was very, very well aware of that.  The man laughed again, smile crinkling the corners of his eyes with mirth.

“Yes, good hard work develops them best.” He reached across the glass case easily enough, giving Steve’s bicep a good squeeze.  Billy jerked forward, eyes like fire as his mouth pinched.  He made one aborted movement forward, before slouching again, baring his teeth almost unconsciously.  Steve dropped the scoop of Birthday Cake, eyes wide as he stared at where the man’s hand was squeezing.  “Very good!” He said, smiling wide as he pulled back.  “You have a strong build, Sailor Steve.  The sweet cream has done wonders for you.” Billy thought maybe a run in with Hopper tonight might be worth it.  He clenched his fingers into his leather jacket, the fabric squeaking.

“You know,” Billy did not jump, he definitely heard Kyrie or whoever come up, “You could just tell the boy you like him.” Billy spluttered, turning red.

“What--!”

“It’ll be easier than whatever mating ritual you two are doing now.” She smiled, eyes calculating as she looked him over.  Billy wondered where Robin was, why she wasn’t distracting the woman so Billy could eavesdrop.

“We’re not doing a, a mating ritual,” he hissed.  “And fuck off, you don’t know anything about me.” The woman rolled her eyes.

“God, you’re so young,” she grumbled, mostly to herself.  Still, it made Billy prickle.

���That’ll be, uh, 13 dollars, even,” Steve said.  The man pulled out a crisp twenty and handed it to him.

“No change, Sailor Steve, thank you.”

“Sailor Steve, pfft,” Billy scoffed under his breath.  It was stupid and dumb and it made Steve blush.  Billy hated it.

“Kyrie!” The man said, turning around.  “Let us leave these young lovers to their night, no need to take up any extra time, ha?” He gave Billy a wink.  “Be good to Sailor Steve, my leather clad friend.”

“What?” Billy breathed, blood pumping through his ears as his face turned red.  Steve was gaping from behind the counter.  Robin was still unaccounted for.

“Farewell, Sailors!” He called, leading his friend out the door.  She shot Billy one last parting sly smile, before leaving the boys in a wake of confusion.

“Honestly,” Valkyrie said, unable to stop the giggle that escaped.  “The tension between those two.”

“It reminds me of my first love,” Thor recalled, pulling out the travel device.  Valkyrie looked back at the shop, watching as the two boys talked to each other, before the angry one pulled the other across the counter by his little red kerchief and kissed him.  The sweet, lanky one brought his hands up, cupping the other boy’s face.

When Robin came to, she was on the floor, melted ice cream all along her back and in her hair.  Above her, Steve was leaning across the counter, one leg hoisted up and perched, helping him lean farther.

“What the fuck,” she groaned.  Steve fell back, slipping in the melted ice cream, and he crashed into the wall.  Robin sat up, rubbing her head.  “You let me just fucking lay in this?”

“What?” Steve breathed, flushing all the way down to his chest.  She gave him a weird look.

“You let me just lay around in melted ice cream-- Oh my god!” She sprung up, eyes darting around the shop.  “Did you finish the--” She paused when her eyes landed on Billy, who was suspiciously red lipped and looking anywhere but her.  “Who the fuck were those people,” she whispered.  It brought Steve out of whatever thing he was in.

“I have no idea, but they were weird.”

“Can’t complain too much,” Billy sniffed, shooting Steve a disgustingly warm and sweet look.  Robin rolled her eyes, but stopped when she saw Steve returning it.  And not when Billy had his back turned this time.

“Okay,” she said, drawing the word out.  “You’re cleaning this up and then telling me what happened.”

“Why were you even down there?” Steve asked, grabbing the mop with no complaint.  Robin turned red and looked away, pursing her lips.  She mumbled incoherently.  “What?”

“She licked the spoon and I fainted, okay?!” She snapped.  “She was just, fuck, she was just so hot--”

Billy watched the two bicker and smiled, kinda glad two weirdos came in and turned their night upside down.

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

Editors Note: Another contribution from R. Ann Parris to The Prepper Journal. As always, if you have information for Preppers that you would like to share and possibly receive a $25 cash award, as well as being entered into the Prepper Writing Contest AND have a chance to win one of three Amazon Gift Cards  with the top prize being a $300 card to purchase your own prepping supplies, then enter today!

Caches periodically come up in preparedness. When they do, there’s routinely talk of burying them. Buried caches can work, but there are some considerations.

One of the things warned about regularly is making sure you can find them again as things ebb and flow in the area. GPS makes a handy backup for now, but in some disasters that GPS unit may not be functioning. I won’t belabor that one. Instead, I’m going to work my way through some considerations for after they’ve been located: Getting into them and getting them out.

Why A Cache?

There are all kinds of caches, for all kinds of reasons. Someone planning a long bugout might stash water purification, energy or ration bars, and drink powders. Someone who uses mass transit or who expects major traffic delays in a crisis might stash some good boots and decent pants.

Others may be creating a network of chipmunk holes because their primary storage areas are limited, or because they fear theft, now or later. Still others may be motivated to create at least a little resiliency to tornadoes, house fires, and flooding – common risks to our primary storage.

The ability to pull up caches with even just the equivalent of a 72-hour kit can buy some less-panicky time to make a better decision than running around with absolutely nothing.

Buried Treasure

Blame my parents for hooking me young, but I love the moment pirates and archaeologists pop something out of the earth.

Thing is, in real life, the earth tends to hold onto her prizes pretty tightly. TV and movies are the only place where something that’s been underground 1-5 years (or longer) plops out without serious effort. See, dirt clings to stuff. Over time, it rains. Sodden soil oozes and fills in the gaps around what we bury. Then it dries and hardens there. Successive seasons repeat this, until the object of our desire is fully cemented in place. (Sandy-soil peeps have a whole other set of issues.)

I don’t have a whole crew of workers like Indy to get my Lost Ark out, so I have learned to be a little smarter about how I plant them in the first place.

Surface Changes & Handy Tools

One of the first things to stay aware of, is how much surface growth we have, and what type. Hand in hand with that, is the kinds of tools we anticipate having if we need our caches.

If we’re hiding 3 of 5 rifles we bought together with one phone call in case a foreign entity ever invades, maybe we have no problem heading out with a machete, loppers, and a trenching shovel or post hole digger, and we’re going to be wearing good boots, good gloves, and decent pants.

If we’re planning our “coming home from a wedding/funeral, truck went boom, had to bail with whatever is in the front seat” disaster-run stash, or if this is a cache built for a wildfire where we all raced for the river/pool after our tires melted, we might have …a pocket knife? …a good camping/hunting do-all blade? …an e-tool? …a hatchet?

So when we site our caches, we want to look around. Not just at “now” level care, but at what springs up inside 1-2 and 3-5 years in the abandoned areas around us.

Siting Snags

Brambles may help keep critters and peeps away from our goodies, but we’re going to have to get through them, too. So it goes with kudzu from nearby areas (that’s about snakes, tangling and tripping, and having to whack it) and poison ivy or ants.

The same goes for anchoring or burying stuff at the edge of waterways. That’s where erosion, sediment deposit, bank shifts, and undergrowth are most likely to exert changes.

We also want to look up as we dig and when we cruise through eyeballing things.

Are there nearby trees with damaged limbs hanging? Diseased branches or trunks? Tree roots in loose banks and shoulders? Those may drop big branches or a whole tree may come down, right on top of our cache.

Don’t just consider healthy, well-fed “now” conditions and abilities. Think about mud and the rolling marbles of a boom acorn year, already injured, and demoralized by loss of home, loved ones, and/or crops due to invaders, fires, or floods.  Consider icy ground, dehydrated, a cold bordering on bronchitis, and footsore after 50-80 dodgy miles on very little.

What tools and abilities will I have in the worst case?

Because, if we’re hitting caches, chances are good we’re in that worst case scenario. And I still have to get into the earth to get my cache of cold meds, Pedialyte, hatchet, and gloves.

Shallow vs. Deep Burial

The shallow-deep aspect is twofold. It’s looking at not only how far underground we stick something, but also the size and shape of our container.

If we go too shallow, our containers can bulge upwards as the earth moves or peek through from erosion. They or contents can be melted in big fires. Floods can unearth them if they and soil isn’t heavy enough.

If we go too deep, however, getting to them with a pointy stick, a rifle stock, or a Ka-Bar is going to be ‘funtastic’.

There’s a sweet spot by location, of 6-12” to the surface of your cache. You’re still susceptible to temperature fluctuations, but chiseling through clay soils in summertime isn’t as grueling as going deeper and they’re less likely to reveal themselves or wander.

If you’re healthy, you can plan on covering the buried treasure with something on the surface (tire, some lumber, small log) and use as little as 4” of topsoil.

That still gives you a buffer to scatter some old bolts, lead bullets, or similar over and in the area off to the side of a cache and cover them with an inch or two of soil. Deposits that build up will still leave a reasonable amount of digging, while it takes a serious flood and time to move four inches of earth once it’s packed down.

That leaves the container. There’s several aspects to wide-skinny containers to think about.

Container Size & Dimensions

First up, consider being off by a few inches. Like, this is for-sure the exactomundo square foot. Our container (or some edge of it) is 100% for-sure inside this here square foot marked by the old steel wheel or big rock. Start digging, Joe.

Only, something scooted. So we need to add 2-6” to our search area.

Most of our caches will be measurable in inches on at least one side. When we’re moving even just 4-6” of earth, especially by hand, do we want to be looking for something that’s 6” across, or something 10- 18”?

Now, consider that it’s not 4-6”, but 12” of topsoil. And not a square foot, but a square yard. Even if we have pre-staged some thin rebar right there by our cache so we can pole for our lid, which do we want to be hunting? The 6” cap to a piece of PVC, or 14” toolbox lid?

That’s just uncovering the top. We still have to get it out.

Earth Clings Tightly

If we need to actually unearth our whole cache to carry our goodies, holy cows. Please, please, please take the time to bury a bucket this autumn/early winter and then dig it up sometime after soil dries this summer. Earth clings. It clings harder the longer something is there.

It’s easiest to define the edges and then dig and spear-wiggle right around the edges of a container if you do need to pull it. That’s another place where shallow or wide has advantage over deep and skinny.

Don’t count on the finger grooves on the underside or the handle holding up to this abuse (or the elements). If it’s really, really smooth with nowhere to grip like a lockbox or PVC tube, for sure you’re going to have to free a big portion of it, depth-wise, to get it out.

Nesting Containers

We can avoid some of the pain of unearthing caches by not actually pulling up the outer containers.

Buckets are made for this. Stack two buckets, inner/upper one with a lid and our goodies. Clear the edges, lift, and go. Really. Storage totes, too, routinely come in stackable sizes. A single bucket or tote can be holding a backpack, tool boxes, etc.

(Psst…kitty litter comes in GOOD buckets, and usually animal rescues getting a bag of dog/cat food will happily let you have empties.)

Remember, ideally the outer shell is pretty tough. That shell is making it easier to unearth those. However, the inner container can be a softer target.

We can slide 4-6” PVC into 6-8” PVC – just the pipe, we don’t have to buy a second round of caps. Toss a chunk of wood or an old boot over the top and-or bottom of it, and-or wedge in an old towel to help keep soil from filling the space between them.

Another option is using a trash can as an exterior for a cache.

The round or squared 13-18gal types work well for various buckets. There are some 6-8gal sizes at Walmart that fit Plano ammo boxes, tackle boxes, and toolboxes really well. (Psst … they also fit inside a backpack while heading out somewhere.)

Slide your container(s) into your trash can, slide a pair of contractor trash bags over it, and slide your trash can into your hole. Top with a seat from an old chair, a freebie-site desk drawer, or planks from the curbside-pickup shelving unit to make it even easier. Bury, roll.

Tie-Offs

Another way to avoid having to un-bury a whole container, especially deep PVC tubes or trash cans, is to tie off each item inside with heavy-duty fishing wire or cord (paracord).

We unwind that all the way to the top, leaving extra trailing out. Tie off and wedge in the next, and eventually wrap the cords into a bundle that will sit on top. Wedging something that won’t settle much like a Ziploc of gloves or socks near the top, the cords above it, will help ensure the cords don’t wiggle down into the depths of our PVC. We can also duct tape the bundle to the inside at the very top.

Remember, if the PVC is 3-4’ long at a table, no big deal. When there’s another 6-12-18” of dirt or debris we’re reaching past and we can’t tilt it, no Bueno. Most of us do not have 4’ arms, and fingertips are not always sufficient for lifting 250 rounds of … lead fishing weights.

Treasure Chests

Caches are an excellent backup, whether we plan to relocate for disasters or just want to nature-proof and people-proof some of our storage.

How we pack our supplies and where we opt to put them so we can get them again are whole articles on their own. Buried caches have their own sets of pro’s and con’s versus other types, but can be pretty effective. A little awareness and others’ “oh, my” moments can help eliminate some of the drawbacks and keep you ready for anything.

  The post Buried Treasure – Caching Caches appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

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