Your OC and the above OC run into each other as--

Well, now that was something strange, Leviathan thought upon noticing a bunch of bugs with the corner of his eyes. What the hell were so many bugs doing in a dairy shop? But when the demon was just about to leave that strange shop which he would make sure to never visit again, a sudden feeling of anxiety had struck him. Well, that was even stranger. Leviathan let a nervous chuckle. What was happening to him? It was supposed to be just a normal visit to a dairy shop on his way home to grab a bottle of strawberry milk for his bandmate, so why the fuck he was feeling so uneasy?! The demon looked around searching for the reason of that feeling. 

Oh now it all was clear. A strange green dog(?) with an army of bugs around him was staring at the boy letting out unnerving cackles. "H-hey buddy, you okay? Leviathan asked hesitantly instantly regretting opening his mouth. Something was clearly off about that cackling canine which made Leviathan want to run far away as fast as possible screaming out of fear. "You know what? Nevermind, sorry for bothering you and all that stuff" Leviathan quickly apologized to the dog and rushed to the exit.  

Most of the time, when Dolores went out shopping, she didn't really pay attention to anyone who passed by her as she went through the aisles for the mundane: chicken stock, carrots, a warm blanket... You know, the groceries. She, after all, was the type to live simply, and she didn't want to complicate things by getting herself involved in anything that didn't directly affect her. As an old woman, she could claim that experience led her to believe this way; her working years were admittedly... Tumultuous, to say the least, and she never wanted to repeat those years again in spite of the blessings, which were admittedly quite pleasant, interspersed between the dramatic bits.

And besides, most of the other shoppers in her city tended to just wear what was expected of them because of the cold weather. It wouldn't make sense for a person to turn up in a T-shirt and shorts when the temperature outside could literally freeze their nose and fingers off anyways.

So, when she saw a guy in an outfit that wasn't a thick coat or jacket lining up for the cashier, she abruptly interrupted her search for a bag of potatoes. He must not be from here, huh... the elderly woman pondered, forgetting for a second that she wasn't exactly from this particular city either. She raised her hand, almost as if she wanted to go over to him and advise him to get something warm just in case the temperatures dropped again (as they often did during this season), but thought of it as rude at the last second and put it back down.

"Maybe he'll get it later and I'd just end up telling them something they've already been considering," Dolores murmured while continuing to glance at the individual. Now that she was actually paying attention, she realized that he was carrying strawberry milk. That, and he looked like nobody she had met in her entire life. Which meant that she was most likely piling unnecessary attention onto a stranger. The old lady winced, clutching her bag of groceries closer to her.

You shouldn't judge people, Dolores. You should know that...

She glanced off to the side, blinking slowly as she did so. Of course she did. In the moment, she just ended up... Forgetting, she supposed. Still, it was enough to make her feel at least some guilt over the whole thing, so she continued onward for that bag of potatoes - not wanting to tackle this weird, unpleasant feeling that started to rise up inside of her and nagged at the deepest recesses of her memories.

follow-up to the post below because. yeet

Manslaughter slithered up behind the hellhound. He looked cool, and like he had enough money, which she absolutely did not have enough of to purchase what she wanted. In her grubby hand, she held a copy of Dementium: The Ward. Was this game for children? No. Was it going to give her nightmares? Yes. Did she want it, anyways? Also yes. And she was determined to get it. She apparently, had no fear just waddling straight up to Andy and then grabbing the end of his shirt, pulling back with as much strength as she could muster.

The girl held the game case up to Andy. "Can you buy this for me?" she asked, with more sudden, quiet timidity than what was in-character for her. Something about him scared her, but still, she wasn't backing down. She was desperate. "I can pay with my dollar, and I got some nickels. Don't think that's enough, though."

She couldn't count out everything in her coin tin, which she unfortunately left in her shack, anyways. Alas, she hoped Andy would take pity on her and give her what she wanted.

If this didn't work, she was going to be incredibly pissed.

Manslaughter was about to beat this little bitch boy into the ground. Swears, slurs, screams-- they all poured out her mouth at the volume at a fire engine's sirens. It really did just sound like one slammed into the grocery store. She knew far too many words than what was acceptable of a ten-year-old girl, though despite the tired, appalled looks of those around her and her opponent, she didn't seem to even notice. She was lost in the moment. She was fucking livid.

"Motherfucker!" she shrieked, "I'll kill your bitch ass!"

Decker, sweet Decker, she hardly noticed him. Up until the boy turned to look at him. Manslaughter glanced at the man, but quickly took her chance to lift her foot and stomp the other child in the shin, earning herself a screech from him and a gasp from his mother. She yanked the game case from the boy's hands and reeled herself away at last. Her eyes shifted back to Decker. To his cart.

In that moment, she decided she wanted Twinkies.

Manslaughter sprang into action and away from the oncoming lunge from the security member, shouting a barrage of insults in her prey's direction.

Decker could run, but Manslaughter had one thing going for her. And it was determination.

(haha, I knew it was going to be like that, Batara just makes everything uncomfortable)

Towards the back of the store a fiery portal opened, attracting a large crowd of gawkers. As smoke spewed into the store a large soot covered bat crawled through. The demon coughed and swung their wings as they brushed ash off their pink fur. Feeling various eyes upon them, they gazed over the group before trotting off.

“Gah, i need to stop using hell portals…” they muttered as they wandered the store.

Now, where are there any Valentine's sweets left? After a pacing down a few aisles they beamed. The month of love may be over, but there were some Hostess goodies left! Quickening their pace they began snagging boxes off the shelf. Dark chocolate raspberry cupcakes, valentine dingdongs, and some i love you cakes! Oh what delights!

Feeling a pair of eyes once again they turned to find the source. A tired and somewhat ragged man stood nearby, cart full of junk food and holding a package of twinkies.

“Oh, do you like what you see?” Batara asked, wings folded around the boxes of sweets.

The man slowly began backing away from the demon… fair enough. at least the goodies won't leave them.

(you have no money Batara…)

"What the-" Fitzgerald could be heard loudly uttering to himself - making his voice clearly audible to the other party as he stopped where he was in his tracks. He hadn't really been doing much in the store, except groveling and looking at its inventory with the utmost spite in his eyes. Back at home, he remembered, everything was given to him. Not on a silver platter, as the legends would say. (Oh, how he wished they were true though!) But hey, he at least didn't have to actually buy anything; his presence wasn't meant to be ordinary, after all.

Ever since leaving home, though, the young man felt as if he was lost. Lost in terms of identity, lost in terms of where the hell he was at the moment... Lost in every sense of the word. It made him wish - for a moment - that he was back in Undella, and the only thing he had to worry about was... Shit. Too many things. That was why he left. It was still for the best, of course, but... At what cost? Goodness, did he not know... Maybe lost in thought could be added as well. It sure seemed like this was the case, as everything - in a way - proved to be a bit overwhelming for his brain.

Hence why he was wandering around the store, with no intent of buying anything but not knowing what else to do. Study what items were available, he guessed? He knew his boss didn't give a single shit about that. Let alone much of the feedback he gave, really... Maybe this bat creature could pull him from his doldrums for a bit. They definitely seemed of the foreign type, after all; he had never seen anything like them  back at home, and he definitely hadn't seen those types of folks walking around in the streets where he was now. So regional differences were definitely out of the equation.

After staring at the other party for an obnoxiously long period of time, the young man crept forward. And when he crept, it was like... One step. One step forward. You know, just in case this turned out to be a shitty decision, and the idea of running off became all the more appealing to him.

Fitzgerald raised a hand and uttered, "Um..." Great, good job. You did your first impression great. Immediately afterwards, he threw his nervous energy off somewhere before immediately standing on his toes and assuming the most pompous posture humanly possible. "You're standing in the way of the chocolates," he stated with a suddenly dry tone while glancing around them, "I'm sure that chocolate is a popular confection, but monopolizing them is frankly a poor decision." A smirk crept onto his face as he added, "Especially when there's more important people waiting to take a portion. Like... You know..." Pointed reference to himself asides, he quickly strutted forward and took a package of boxed sweets. He gave the box a cursory glance before sighing and waving it in their face. "Not everyone can work with dried fruits and shit like that, you know... For some, chocolate is simply what's best."

This exchange definitely wasn't for research purposes, and he was aware of that. But for one thing, he was actually starting to enjoy scouring through the selection of items... (Gasp!) And for another, he just wanted something to distract himself from his thoughts for a bit, even if it meant conversing with someone that he probably wouldn't like.

follow-up for the post below!!

Taffy went grocery shopping far more often than she had any right to.

She didn't take up too many resources herself— If she was one thing, she was damn good at making things last— but she's almost always tangled up between 90 different guests, most of them begging for food. She'd consider herself too charitable for her own good, but that sounded a little self-centered. Not even a little. Like, a lot. So she keeps quiet, and she keeps serving what she needs to serve. She's in a place to do so, anyways. Might as well.

Maybe there was a reason that everyone seemed to go straight to her as soon as they needed something. It's nice to be needed, yeah, but it's even nicer to be a damn good cook. It's a reputation she'd like to keep, thank you. She awkwardly runs her thumb over her shopping list again, heavy boots thudding on the tile floor as she paces the aisles. She could've kept doing that for hours if she hadn't noticed that someone else was in the aisle with her, making the entire situation extremely awkward.

Taffy turns towards Fitzgerald, clearing her throat to start— before she realizes her hair is still in her face. Shit. She splutters out a quick apology, gently brushing her bangs out of her face as she squints at her shopping list again.

"I, uh... I don't shop here often. Do you know where—" She's hyperventilating. The idea of talking to another person has her messed up, especially one with Fitzgerald's refined air, and she gasps as she tries to calm down. "—Where the, uh, pasta is? I... Like, the artisan stuff? I'm having a few friends over, and..." No need to justify it. Chill.

"Um... I promise I'll be out of your hair soon! I just... It's a little confusing, the layout, and you look like you'd know..."

Sandra gave a purr, singing along to the low quality music coming through the stories speakers. She was rather in her own world, hips and tail moving along to the music. She was (sadly) unaware of the little dragon creature in front of her. She was looking for some bacon, her munchies craving kicking in.  She pushed the cart out ahead of her, a little to fast, a little to hard, straight into the dragon person. She felt the reverberation through the cart of her smacking into whoever was in front of her she jumped, coming out of her obvious state. "Oh god!" she exclaimed, ears flattening embarrassed, "I didn't see ya there! I'm sooo sorry I just wanted some bacon," she tilted her head, "and i see YOU are looking at the bacon isle as well! Wonderful choice!" she hummed, ears pink with embarrassment, "Once again i'm sorry little one, I really should keep my eyes in front of me but Oh! the food!"

The times she got to go shopping were the most freeing, as much as she disliked crowds. Maribelle tried to keep to herself and stuff her basket with whatever she could, which was mostly fruits, a bag of rice, and canned soup. The moment she found where the candy and other sweets were, however, she wanted to cry.

She quickly stuffed the basket full of hard butterscotch, lemon drops, and peppermint, but focused on those three first if only to ride out the wait for the... cat... person... to move out of the way of the snickerdoodles. It was becoming obvious, though, that she was becoming stress by the fifth second of standing there, pretending to browse the shelves in front of her.

It took so long, she thought, in her stupid brain. Really, it hadn't even been half of a minute before she took a deep breath. She turned to Sandra and stalked up behind her. She grabbed the poor woman's shoulder, but then dove out of the way. Her brows furrowed.

"..You're taking too long." she muttered, "I want my cookies."

follow-up! god, may zeb rest in peace

hmm... time for some gentle necromancy

Zeb doesn't really like grocery shopping, let alone on his own, but it's really not too much a problem for him; he and Benji had put together a grocery list, so it's not like he's gonna miss anything he needs, unless it's out of stock.

All of the essentials were scribbled in Zeb's own chickenscratch; eggs, milk, bread, meat, pasta... That kind of stuff. Snacks and drinks, and the ingredients to make some at home, by contrast, were written in Benji's fluid, ever-so-slightly flowery cursive.

He was lumbering down a snack aisle, squinting at the list, having a bit of trouble reading both Benji's and his own handwriting, when he accidentally bumped into someone with his cart. His walking ground to a halt and he pulled the cart back, looking up from his list to see Maribelle giving him a glare that could kill.

"Uh... S-Sorry, kid," he spluttered, cheeks reddening ever so slightly. He quickly maneuvered his cart around Maribelle to peruse a different section of the snack aisle.

---

vvv DGHSGFHG LOVE UR REPLY

woof this got LONG

aidenopossum

Rylex was going to be stuck on this planet for a while. And currently, there has been talks of this virus going around. People on this planet was practicing social distancing and staying home. And many of the essentials at the market was already all gone. So he figured he had to stop by the store to bunker down too! Just until his captain came to collect him from this world, as his captain was off away on a mission.

As the young soldier reached to grab the last of the toilet paper, his hands touched Zeb's. The mechanic was reaching for that last roll too! Rylex quickly turned over to look at Zeb. "YO! Had my eyes on this baby first Dog. Mind scooting yo bear paws away from dis here toilet roll?" As he slaps Zeb's hands away from 'his' roll! "Don't make me whoop yo gay ass all over this market here! You hear me?!" As Rylex roughly shoves the equally big guy. (IDK if at this point Zeb walks away or fights Rylex. Cuz I know Zeb don't got time for nasty hoes like Rylex. LOL. And perhaps Rylex just pushing Zeb's button on purpose, cuz of the virus craze. And people just be crazy in general. Or perhaps just too much testosterone.) Either way, Rylex starts a fight with him, because Rylex is a bully. They make a huge scene in the store. Rylex tackles Zeb, gets ontop of him and starts wailing away. Zeb too gets ontop of Rylex and he beats him real gooood. They both brawl, they both get really into it, they both making a huge ass scene. Bodies being tossed around the aisle and knocking shit over, shit being spilled. They both covered in food and shit. Then at one point they finally stop to catch their breath! That's when both realize that the toilet paper roll was GONE!!! SOMEONE HAD ALREADY TOOK it!! They just looked at each other panting hard with intense look in they eyes. (INTENSE EYE LOCK!) That's when security comes running over and forces the both of them out!

As Rylex gets escorted out along with Zeb, the soldier looks at him. Catching his breath, Rylex gives him a giant grin, "Yo man! You pull some nasty punches back there. The way yo punk ass put yo force in it. Man dude, yo ass almost knocked the wind outta me man! You good man. You good!" Rylex slaps his biceps and chest hard, nods his head. "Someone look'n fo you at home? Let's go get us some beer Dog. I know a place!" As he wipes his bloody nose.

Rylex turns around as he heard Skinner's remarks. "You talk'n to me old man?" Rylex made his way back to Skinner and stood infront of him, looking down at him. "Yo old ass self tell'n me how to shop? DAMN!!" He shakes his head and disbelief. A little upset, then he starts to nod. "But you is right. you is right. I hear you gramps. Well I appreciate yo input. But whisky is an old man's drink. HO!!!! Unless you gun buy some and invite me over. From the look of it, yo fancy ass self can definitely afford some of dat whisky! Den yuh. I be down wid dat!" As he gave Skinner a friendly elbow to his gut. Rylex starts to walk away then looks back at him and shouts out loud, "MEET YOU LATER AT YOUR PLACE AT 6!"

Now, normally Skinner wasn't the type of individual to go out to a grocery store. Usually, he had everything offered to him, and he picked whatever he needed; such a privilege was natural for his rank - back at home - but two problems persisted. One problem was that he wasn't at home. He was somewhere else, and so he always had to keep in mind that he may not be recognized (which was unfortunate but acceptable given the circumstances). The other, more important reason was that he actually resented the idea of having all his needs satisfied on a whim. Sure, the power was nice, but it always grew monotonous after a while. Even good things are bad in excess, he remembered as he held an apple in his hands. It was good, sometimes, to just get out into the world and fraternize oneself with people who weren't as wealthy as himself.

At least his wife wasn't around to nag him about "acting lowly" or some elitist bullshit like that.

Sighing gently, he placed the fruit down before noticing a particularly large man wearing a mechanical suit pass by- Wait, was that an entire pack of beer!? No... That "one pack" was really several. Yet the stranger seemed to carry those bottles of beer with ease, so Skinner just shrugged and looked back at the fruit. Maybe a fruit salad wouldn't be so bad later on... He coughed into his sleeve before a sudden, hypocritical wave of pretentiousness struck him. Why beer? Why not something like... Wine, or champagne? He doesn't look that refined, but... One shouldn't sink that low...

"Whiskey would've been better," he muttered just loud enough for the other party to hear. Welp, there was no going back now, because if he took it the wrong way... Guess there was another way Skinner could've died? Self-awareness, however, was something he did have at the moment (thank goodness), as he folded his hands and immediately looked off. "I say this based off of alcohol content," he clarified hastily and therefore sabotaging himself, "as whiskey has much more alcohol than beer... If you want to get drunk, whiskey is the way to go at least. You get more booze in a smaller bottle, so you buy less and save money." Okay, was he just talking to himself, or...?

Skinner shot the other party a quick glance before thinking, Well, at least I would've bought some wine. That has a pretty low alcohol content anyways. It's never suitable to get drunk at this time anyways. The older man shook his head. I'll leave that to my "servants." By goodness, did that last term make him wince. He rubbed the back of his neck before receding deeper into the produce section. All of a sudden, fruit salad - specifically one including apples - was all that he wanted right now.

time for a quick follow-up to the post below!!

Admittedly it wasn't the best idea to be grocery shopping at this hour, but Hjordis had no other choice, as she was beginning to run low on necessities for herself and her son. Being a mother sure was demanding, but to be a mother of a physically disabled child, let alone during a pandemic that could be dangerous to his tiny self that required everyone to stay home as much as they could was even more so. She kept sanitizing wipes in the cart and stayed away from everyone, but by chance she'd ended up next to this old man in the fruit.

As she reached for an apple to place in the plastic bag she had collected from the nearby dispenser, she hesitated seeing him. This old soul... he reminded her of something. Or maybe it was someone... it just gave her this feeling, like she'd seen a ghost. Humans weren't her area of expertise, but him... he didn't look too off, but there was just some air about him that reminded her of something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Looking away, Hjordis decided not to take the apple, instead moving over to the oranges. Those were Elektra's favorite. Already in her cart was baby food, some sippy cups, and diapers for her son, lactation supplements for herself, and batteries for the baby monitor. She was just starting to introduce her son to foods other than his mother's milk, and it wasn't exactly going to be easy. As Hjordis loaded the bag with oranges, she couldn't help but look back over at that man.

Well, she couldn't just stare like that without saying something. "Sure is a good day today, no?" she asked before turning her head back to the fruit. Maybe some pears would be good too... nah, Elektra wasn't a big fan of them. Neither was she. Hjordis nonchalantly took a bunch of bananas, placing them and the oranges in the cart, taking care not to disturb the baby goods she already had in.

LetsGoKazeo [hope you don't mind the ping it's just been almost a month since your post]

Noel lived in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, so it wasn't often that he visited the marketplace. It took him half a day's travel to reach the nearest shop, but he tended to buy as much as he could get his nasty hands on for the sake of lasting him a few weeks before forcing himself to go back. Otherwise, he tried to get by through hunting and foraging. Sometimes trading. The rebellion tried to grow crops, but the rain washed out whatever they attempted to farm. Not to mention the mountainous terrain and vicious natives. Cows were easier to raise than tomatoes, Noel believed. Too bad they didn't have cows. Or tomatoes.

Right now, he needed salt, and bread, and milk. Rum, if he could find any. He considered searching for seeds to leave to his daughter for growing, but again... everything above. There was also simply that she had been out of sorts-- not sleeping, staring at the wall, dead silent. He was accustomed to this. Even if it bothered him, he trained himself not to ask too much of her. He suggested taking her with him, but she just refused to move.

So, he was here. Alone. He just tried to stay out of the way of others, but after an hour of wandering he sank deep into thought. He had his milk. He just needed everything else on his incredibly short list. He also needed to not walk straight into the person in front of him as if she were a pole, but alas, he did that anyways. He was blasted back to reality, almost stumbling over the Bisharp.

"Shit!" He hissed under his breath. He pulled himself away from her and shook his head, bringing in a sharp breath as he ducked to the side. He sent her a glance. A glare, actually. As if he totally wasn't the one who bumped into her.

"I'm very sorry... Strange creature. Excuse me." He droned out, stepping around her. He only caught a glimpse of her cart. There were baby supplies, but those didn't catch his eye as much as the fruits did. "That reminds me... Maybe I should..."

He stopped himself before he could make conversation with Hjordis, uncertain of if she would even want to lend an ear to his concerns. Did she have ears? He couldn't tell. Nevertheless, he made a mental note to check the fruit section of the market before he left. It would probably do some good to bring home a box of strawberries, or canned peaches, or maybe even some shitty, cheap candied plums.

He eased out another exhale and dipped her head to Hjordis. "Do you know... where the fruits are here?"

follow-up time ? i am so sorry joanne... mwah...