#Marble cutter

[theviceenforcer]

Team Fortress 2 - Fine Engineering

Engineer cheers to the newly constructed marble cutter. Hopefully nothing happens to it like an explosion from a bomb cart.

[goodyeartools]

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[machinesguide]

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[bmptools]

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[vintagehomecollection]

100 Designers' Favorite Rooms, 1994

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[jpttools]

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[drurrito]

Home

A/N: You're going to have to pry retired!avengers reader x Natasha au from my cold, dead hands. Anyway, I wanted to see if I could quickly churn out a little something before needing to focus my attention on this stupid MSJ memo.

From a drabble list: #34 - "The boxes are all labeled incorrectly."

Parings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: time...and it's a little angsty ig but there's a happy ending.

----------------

You slice through the tape with ease and toss the box cutter to the side.

"Huh, so that's where I packed my boxing gear," you lift your gloves out of the box and set them aside. Moving has been anything but a breeze. Natasha finally pried your last remaining stubborn fingers that had a death grip on your life as an Avenger. Your retirement party was too-perfect. Even Fury was there to send you off. You hated it. Natasha knew from the jump you wanted to die an Avenger, not some washed-up hero that spent retirement trying to find anything to fill the bottomless void left from no longer being needed by the world anymore.

But you love Natasha much, much more than you hate not being an Avenger.

She tried to make it up to you, even picking a house that has a home theater and game room for your poker nights with Tony and the boys. Someplace by the beach while being close enough to the S.H.I.E.L.D. training facility so you can sleep in as long as possible before having to train recruits.

Your new life scares you much more than any bullet, bomb, or power-hungry warlord ever could.

You hear the front door open and keys drop onto the new marble counter that Natasha spent weeks curating. The familiar clicking of heels draws nearer. You feel your wife's nails drag across your back before her fingers dig into the knots between your shoulders.

"There you are," Natasha's voice is so gentle, it has been since your retirement party. She always knew what she wanted with you, and you never gave her reason to doubt you would meet her halfway. Retirement was the last step she needed you to take into this new chapter of your lives. Most people would have rather opted to watch paint dry, but she would have waited forever for you if you needed it.

"How's the unpacking going?" Natasha rests her head on top of yours, letting her arms drape around your neck. You instinctively lean back into her and take a few breaths. Among the most chaotic scenes, Natasha has always been your safe place to land.

"We're making some progress," you trail off, both of your eyes scanning the room that's littered in torn, sliced, and otherwise unopened boxes. You feel Natasha heave a loud sigh against your back. Her arms come up to your shoulders to give you a sympathetic squeeze.

"Wait, why are my dishes in your underwear box?"

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment to buy yourself some time, "because...the boxes are labelled incorrectly."

"And who was in charge of labelling the boxes?"

"I was," you try not to sound so deflated, Natasha's laugh echoes through the mostly empty house.

"Should've hired the recruits to do our dirty work," she smirks and pulls out her phone, "I'll get us take out."

You watch her rattle off your favorite order as she walks down a barren hallway. Maybe retirement won't be so bad after all.

[gunnrblze]

City Dweller, pt. 1

☾ Hesh x Reader, 2k+ words, SFW

New fic based on my little Roomate!Hesh drabble :)

Hello friends, so happy y’all liked my little drabble so much! Loved seeing the comments n feedback, I’m naturally pretty iffy about my own writing so I appreciate it a lot! Here’s this lolll :)

Santa Monica was beautifully warm. Palm trees littered around, sunshine beating down during the peak hours of the day. Only remnants of a past war, a ghost of what was. Your ‘fresh start’ as you’d been calling it felt almost…conventional, all things considered. Hallmark movie-like, the apartment you’d found yourself touring looking almost suburban, but distanced enough from what you imagine the suffocation of a cookie-cutter neighborhood would feel like.

Years after the Federation had been defeated, the world attempting some chance at peace and uniformity, you needed something new. With a decent job offer, and an already established friend living in the city, you figured it made more than enough sense.

Knocking on the door of a decently sized complex, you didn’t have nearly enough time to really zone in on your anxiety and attempt to squash it. Instead, your endeavor was halted by a large, athletically sturdy man appearing in the doorway with a warm, ice melting smile. Your eyes tracing over him instead of the 207 plastered on the door.

You didn’t know what to expect, honestly. Hell, you didn’t really have many expectations for meeting Hesh, other than the involuntary assumptions you made based on the bit of information your friend had given you. But all that information came from their friend Logan, Hesh’s brother. Considering that you’d hype up your sibling in the same scenario too, you were counting on having to gain your own footing. Going in blind to meet a man you didn’t know and touring his apartment almost felt like a poor decision. But hey, if this guy was a freak, you at least had a friend who knew where you were.

Of course, you couldn’t quite form any actual thoughts for a moment, a bit too stunned with how pretty he was.

A physique damn near sculpted from marble. A smile so gentle and welcoming it made your teeth ache. Bright green eyes that made you wonder how it was possible to have a simultaneously easy-going yet poised energy. A beard that was almost starting to border into mutton chops territory, that he somehow pulled off in your eyes.

It was no wonder your internal monologue blacked out for a moment.

He welcomed you in, introducing himself first as David, then explaining that you can call him Hesh like everyone else does. You only wondered for a moment how that nickname must’ve been born from ‘David’, before he insisted showing you around the apartment.

The apartment was nice and clean, almost verging on dull, but you weren’t too surprised after being told he was an army Lieutenant. Usually gone for work, absent more than he was present. It made sense the way the kitchen nearly looked straight out of a Home Depot display. All sharp edges and clean surfaces, new stainless steel appliances that almost made you swoon. But with enough personal touch to let you know he dwells here, at least.

It got even more convenient when he showed you down the hall toward what would be your room. You tried to breathe regularly, but something about him was both refreshing and suffocating. Your eyes swept over picture frames on the wall, both new and dated photos of him and his brother Logan. A man who he vaguely resembled, perhaps a father. A woman that looked eerily twin-like to his brother…you were starting to get the picture. He gave you a cursory peak of his own room just to acquaint you with everything, the details you caught before he shut the door again already conjuring more assumptions about him. What kind of games does he play on that setup? He must really be partial to the color green. How do you even make a bed that neat? Was that a dog bed-wait, was that an actual dog too?

You must’ve been daydreaming a bit, when his slight chuckle broke you out of the trance you’d tripped into.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if Logan mentioned to your friend that I have a dog, Riley. Is that a problem?” He’d ask, voice smoother than whiskey, warm and heavy and settling into the few feet standing between your bodies. His tone was lacquered with kindness and welcoming, but his firm, assured nature stood next to you like a brick wall. Unwavering and almost comforting, for a stranger.

You explained that you didn’t mind, you liked dogs well enough, after all. And with the way he assured you that Riley was indeed, a very good boy, and went to work with him everyday, you suspected it wouldn’t be a problem. “You’ll hardly even know he’s here, usually stays in my room. He’s fully trained and housebroke, too” he followed up after seeing the quick mental debate you were going through. Just an extra, furrier roommate, no? Maybe a piece of info you’d like to know beforehand, but something inside you just didn’t care too much. Maybe it was how casual he acted about it. Just a dog, man’s best friend and all, you figured.

After the little German shepherd shaped surprise, he showed you to the second bedroom. Smaller than his, which you didn’t mind considering he claimed his stake a while ago, and it was just like the rest of the apartment anyways.

Perfect.

Or did he feel perfect? Did he, in this apartment, perhaps feel perfect? Were you being ridiculous, since you’d only known him for a mere 10 minutes so far? Surely a David Walker sized miracle didn’t just land in your lap like this. He’s just some guy, with a dog, and an empty bedroom.

There’s plenty of those. But you were starting to want this one.

Clean and spacious, perfect for all your belongings, you wondered how you lucked out. The light filtered into the room from the open blinds, and it all felt a bit tranquil and relaxing. Cream colored walls surrounding you, sturdy hardwood flooring that your shoes clacked on with every step. Hesh stood a reasonable distance from you the whole time, however you couldn’t help but feel as if his presence lingered closer. As if he were right on your heels, instead of being a respectable few feet away.

After showing you the rest of the apartment, the laundry area and bathroom just as seemingly spotless, you were already fantasizing about how you’d decorate your room and slowly worm your knickknacks throughout the rest of the apartment. When he asked you a bit about yourself, you almost looked unsure for a moment, caught off guard. Why you were faltering so much, you had to mentally blame on your lack of consistent human connection. Usually being holed up away from everyone else for work made you a bit of a recluse.

And how you could even begin to think about yourself when you had a large, square shouldered man leaning against the doorframe of his kitchen was beyond you. Those forest eyes narrowed in on you, and you only. Both staring a hole through you, and somehow keeping you all in one piece at the same time. His composed demeanor couldn’t possibly lack personality, though. His smile was something warm. That cup of coffee on a chilly morning, the one that you can feel blaze a trail all the way down your throat and throughout your chest upon first sip. So heedlessly friendly and hospitable, like a frosting that’s just a little too sweet. One that makes your stomach hurt a bit. But the ache is so tender, isn’t it?

You gave enough of an idea about yourself, not too much information for a stranger, but enough to hopefully warm him up to the idea of you moving in. And it seemed to help, or maybe it was that slight ‘when are you ready to move in?’ attitude he already seemed to harbor. As if he were just waiting for you to agree. Like he’d already decided it would work out the moment you stepped inside. It took you by a quiet surprise, the way he held the conversation in such a tone that he’d already made up his mind on you, and now it was simply your turn to decide how you felt. So self assured, so nonchalantly confident that it even made you want to stand up a bit straighter.

. . ・ 。 . ・ ゜ ✭ ・ ☽ ・ ✫ ・ ゜ ・ 。 . .

You weren’t expecting your first apartment touring to be so…immaculate, when are they ever? But you found yourself dotting your I’s and crossing your T’s on the lease paper by the end of the week, and moving your stuff in.

Not without his help, of course.

You’d insisted you could have a friend help, or call a moving company, to which you nearly watched him laugh at. The idea of paying someone money when you had him to help, seemed out of his scope of understanding. So he helped, not busy enough with work for once to assist you in moving boxes upon boxes up the stairs and into the apartment. Logan even came to help with the heavier furniture you had. You’d only briefly met him once through that mutual friend that’d recommended you as a potential roommate, and he seemed to be just as kind and friendly as his brother, only quieter. You could see clear as day how they were related, moving like a well oiled machine as they carried your bed frame up the stairs.

The two of them shared a couple looks when they naturally assumed you weren’t paying attention. But you had eyes in the back of your head while inside an apartment with two men who were technically, still strangers to you. Looks you couldn’t quite decipher, and decided to willfully ignore, lest you start jumping to conclusions and psych yourself out of this arrangement. A little smirk plastered on Logan’s face whenever he caught Hesh glancing at you. Always glancing, always looking. And you couldn’t help but notice. Your eye contact with him felt like a game, both eyeing one another and trying to pretend you really weren’t. How he managed to keep an eye and his focus on two things at once though, you just chalked up to his skills as a soldier, maybe. Because you couldn’t focus on much else whenever your eyes roamed over the back of his head, the slightly grown out brown hair that curled up around his ears, or the way his t-shirt fit across the broad expanse of his chest.

After all your things had been lugged up the stairs and into the apartment, you could take a little breather. Unpacking and really settling in would be another feat, and you wanted to start as soon as you could, despite the exhaustion from the busy day.

After thanking Logan again for helping, he left the, your, apartment. And it was odd, that this was also your apartment now. Boxes stuffed inside and name on the lease next to his. You felt like an intruder, like you couldn’t mark your territory properly since he’d done it first. Not that he felt that way, of course. It was your space now, too. Your room, your bathroom, your kitchen, your living room. Just with a man and a dog inside, too.

A man who seemed to have been harboring a spot in your thoughts since you met him a few days ago. Always on the back burner, always bouncing around like the ball in a pinball machine. That charming cadence in his voice, his little grin that seared itself into your brain. What was it about him? You didn’t know. You didn’t really want to know. He was your roommate now, you couldn’t have yourself swooning for a man who was simply kind and respectful towards you.

But now you were alone with him. And it almost didn’t even feel odd. Being alone with a man in a new city, a new apartment, would normally put anybody at least a little on edge. But he made it more delightful and pleasant than you thought he’d really even attempt to try. Was he even trying? Or did he just have the energy of a snake charmer?

It was difficult to tell, since he didn’t at all seem to regard you as a snake. No, he looked at you like you were the finest wine. Something he sought to cradle in his large hands, careful not to squeeze too tightly incase you decide to hightail it. He was charming and respectful and sweet but it felt heavy. He tried to be casual, or maybe he just was, and it worked, but his near reverence for you slipped from the cracks, and it sparked up something light and fuzzy in the bottom of your chest.

Maybe you were both being a little silly. Perhaps he didn’t get much personal social interaction outside of his own working hours either. Maybe that’s why the apartment felt both calm yet cramped with both of you inside now. You’d only known him for a handful of days so far, but he made it feel as if it were longer.

All you could do for a moment was sit on the edge of your unmade bed, and take a deep breath. You had mountains of boxes and emotions to unpack, one of which you decided to close the lid on for now.

[goodyeartools]

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[writer-rubes]

Tickletober - Day 3

A/N: First of the DCA/Sun and Moon show pieces uwu I had this idea for a while, I just never had an excuse. Well, now I have one! I feel like this might be a little in character. This takes place after Old Moon's return.

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Below the Belt

Tickletober - Day 3: Prank

Summary: After their Premium Member QnA, Sun tries to get Moon back for tickling him with one of Nexus' scrapped inventions, before he went crazy. But Moon finds out, and decides to have a little fun of his own.

Sun was cleaning out some old boxes at the Daycare. He was still a little flustered from the QnA he and Moon did a few days ago. He couldn't believe Moon did that! He was a bit embarrassed, and his family has not let him live it down yet. It was all out of love of course.... but still.

"I need to get Moon back for that! But every time I try, something gets in my way, or Moon just gets me instead!" He said, still a little flushed. He took down one of the boxes, and realized it was a box of Nexus' old inventions. Before he betrayed everyone.

Why did he still have these? He thought he got rid of all of Nexus' old inventions. Either thrown away, or having Moon repurpose them. He decided to finish that, and he started to go through the box.

Many of the inventions were rather weird. A wire cutter with a circuit board in the blades, a high tech hamster wheel, and a few other things. But one thing at the bottom of the box caught Sun's eye. It was a blue belt, with a keyhole attached. It also came with a remote. Sun recognized the design from a cartoon that Jack and Dazzle watched.

"Wait... is that- wait, why would he make this?"

He wondered if it actually worked. He attached it to his waist, and he pressed the red button on the remote. He didn't know what he was thinking. Because as soon as it turned on, Sun shrieked. He burst into squeaky laughter, squirming on the padded floor. The belt tickled all over, but mainly on his tummy, where the belt rested. Really? Nexus invented a tickle belt before he lost his marbles?

In Sun's hysterical laughter, he grabbed the remote and shut it off. The belt stopped, and he took several breaths to calm down. He hoped no one saw that, it was rather embarrassing...

Then an idea hit him.

--------------------------------------------

Sun had gotten home, and made dinner for Dazzle and Jack. Once they ate and went up to play, Sun snuck into Moon's room. Moon was out at his lab with Solar, so he was completely safe to do this.

He grabbed a spare pair of pants from Moon's drawer, and he stuffed the belt inside, concealing it with the cloth. He folded it, and set it on the top of Moon's clean pile. So it would be the pair he wore in the morning. He smirked, and held the remote, almost in a teasing manner as he went to his own room.

--------------------------------------------

Moon returned to the house with Solar behind him. They were both tired, as they spent all day working on building some new negative star power defenses. They both went to Moon's room since they needed to talk a bit longer.

"Do you think it's enough to keep Sun safe?" Solar asked.

"I hope it is. I can't let him get hurt..." Moon went to his drawer to get his pair of pants for the morning, but he noticed a weight change. His pants aren't normally that heavy.

He investigated, and he pulled out the tickle belt that Sun hid in his pants. Moon was a little surprised. He had no idea how it got there at first, until he remembered how he tickled Sun on their QnA. So he wanted revenge...

"Well, I gotta say... At least this was unexpected." Moon shrugged. Solar looked over at the belt, his eyes widening a little.

"Wait, is that... the thing from Spongebob? Jack told me about that thing!"

"Right... a tickle belt. Where did Sun even get one of these?" Moon asked as he thought for a moment.

"Well, what will you do with it? Sun probably planted it in there to mess with you... He'll be disappointed." Solar muttered. Moon continued to think, and a fun idea came to his head. He smirked.

"Sure... but he might be in for a shock in the morning." He walked to Sun's room. Sun was asleep, and he was good at being quiet...

--------------------------------------------

The daycare had just been emptied for the day, and Moon had just gotten back to was talking with Earth and Lunar. He was asking about their days.

"How did a kid throw the Moon plushie all the way up to the ceiling lights?" Moon asked, while Lunar shrugged.

"I don't know! Kids are crazy these days!" Lunar cried. Earth just smiled and rolled her eyes playfully. Sun walked over to them, a soft smirk on his face.

"So, you enjoying hanging out with us, Moony?~" Sun asked, with a playful smirk on his face. Moon nodded.

"Yeah, it's nice. It's nice having such a great sister, too." Moon commented.

"Aw, Moon!~" Earth smiled, her cheeks a little pink. Sun nodded, smirking.

"So, Moon... I must ask, have you laughed enough today?~" Sun asked teasingly, and Moon just smiled and shrugged.

"Solar told me a pretty good joke. I laughed pretty hard." Sun nodded, his smirk growing.

"Well..." He held up the remote. "Let me give you something to really laugh about!~" He pressed the button on the remote.

What he wasn't expecting was for him to feel the tickles instead. He burst into laughter, and fell onto the floor. He dropped the remote, and Moon picked it up.

"Moon?!" Sun cried as he laughed. Moon chuckled.

"Oh, Sunny... Did you really think I'd fall for that?~" Moon asked teasingly. "I figured out your little prank last night. I figured I'd tuck that tickle belt under your frills and get you laughing. You didn't suspect a thing."

Lunar's cheeks turned a little red, but he smiled at the scene. It was so funny. And Earth, she smiled sweetly, thinking it was very cute. Moon just smirked, enjoying the show as Sun writhed and laughed on the floor.

"Okay, Moon!" He said while laughing and squeaking. "You got me, turn it off!" He begged. Moon thought about it, and shrugged.

"Oh, I'll turn it off in a few minutes~" Moon chuckled. "You still tried to pull this on me. I think I'll let you squirm and laugh for a bit~"

Sun just let himself melt as he laughed, and his siblings watched the scene. Even if he tried to get revenge, he was still okay with this outcome.

He always needed a good laugh.

Prompt List

[aley-nag]

Making my own bookcloth

Back in february I went to a convention for all kinds of crafts and found a lot of cool materials I wanted to try in lieu of bookcloth. This was my first foray:

Finished book!

In a workshop back in 2023 I learned how to back normal cloth with silk paper so that it can function as bookcloth. I was taught, that this is necessary because otherwise the glue would press through the cloth and be visible on the front. With this dragon scale styled cloth I wasn't afraid that would happen. It is very thick and has kind of a plasticky coat. So I disregarded all of that advise and just tried to do it like I would with regular bookcloth:

I noticed very quickly that the cloth kinda soaked up the glue and I needed a lot to get it wet and sticky enough. Than I ran into the problem, that my newly fashioned edge cutter was a little to narrow for such thick material. I had little holes at the corner where the cloth didn't quite overlap. It also would not really stick to the carton. First I tried pressing it down with my fingers, than with a vise. Nothing worked, it just wouldn't stick. That's how I learned there's a second reason for backing the cloth: So that it will fucking stick. The glue is not suitable for things that are not paper. So you have to adhere paper first to the cloth and then you can connect that paper to the carton.

This is how I learned to do it:

Iron the cloth until all the creases are gone. Otherwise they will stay permanently. Leave the iron on. Dilute your glue with wallpaper paste (I used the regular one for paper from a hardware store and used the strongest water/paste ratio; the paste/glue ratio I kinda eyeballed approx. 1:3). Then put it in a laquer dish like in the picture and use a roller without this really fuzzy stuff (this one is more like foam). This will help you put the glue on very quickly and evenly. Lay out the silk paper (normally you should measure the cloth larger than you need it and the silk paper a little smaller than the cloth so that you don't have glue remnants everywhere. I already cut mine so the silk paper is larger here). Roll on your glue (very quickly but make it thin and even). Then wait. Test it with your fingertips. It should still stick but not be really wet anymore. Otherwise it will press through your cloth and you will have stains. If it gets to dry it will not stick. Then carefully stretch out all the creases. If you think it is right, put on the cloth, flip it and go over the silk paper with an iron. Be careful not to rip the paper (this will happen if it was still to wet). Check that the cloth isn't creasing. Try to get it as flat as possible. After the paper is dry, flip it again and go over the cloth side.

After I did that I had less problems. The cloth still needed to be pressed with a vise because it was so thick, but it held.

I mismeasured the back of the bookblock though and had to do it all over again... Well, you learn through practise and the second attempt was much prettier as well.

I used marbled paper I got from that retailer from hell and then I again fucked up with the Cricut (forgot to mirror the letters). Otherwise I am very pleased with the result and my cousin (the recipient) was also quite happy.

Binding Details

Bookblock was premade from schmedt.de

Endpapers from the retailer from hell (that I'm not gonna link)

Cloth from taschen-zubehoer.de

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, manipulation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“I don't want them,” you try to wave Jonathan off as he offers a pair of pills, “I don't, urgh, need them, I'll deal–”

“You can barely speak for the pain, darling–”

“Stop calling me that,” you hiss, shaking as your hip throbs. Even the bed offers little comfort. Bigger and softer than your own yet entirely unwelcoming. “Can I… Can I have the coffee? My head is pounding.”

You reach past his hand and he clucks, “better reason for you to take your pills.” He moves the mug away, “take them and you may have some coffee.”

“Are you ser–”

You try to sit up straight and fall back against the heaped pillows, “argh, why are you doing this?”

“Why am I taking care of you? Well, anyone with decency–”

“You did this to me–”

“You tripped on the rug. As for your shoulder, I believe that was the creature you call an ex-husband. You would do yourself a favour by letting him go… like he did you.”

“You don't know shit about my marriage,” you growl, eyes pricking hotly, “fine, fine,” you wince as your muscles raze with fire, “I'll take the damn pills. I can't stand it.”

You grab the pills, scratching his palm, and throw them between your dry lips. You moan and gurgle as you try to force them down. He offers the coffee and you take it without a second thought, gulping down the bitterness and pasty tablets.

“Why… why don't you find someone who isn't broken? Someone younger?” You croak, resting the hot mug over your chest.

“You speak so unkindly of yourself, it's no wonder you refuse my kindness,” reproaches, “you're not broken, you are malleable…”

“Jonathan,” you breathe, his words slicing to your core. He's not wrong, you let Andy mold you into his cookie cutter and all for what?

“Enjoy your coffee, please,” he grins, “you've earned it.”

You flinch. You feel so small and weak. Exactly how you felt with Andy. How you've felt ever since. And now this man, no better than the last, only better at playing the gentleman.

“I want to sleep,” you murmur and look away from him.

“Yes, lots of rest,” he coos, “darling, I only want you happy and healthy.”

🩵

You only drink half the mug before you give in to dread. You're trapped here. Not just in this house but your own body.

You close your eyes as the painkillers kick in. They cannot soothe your anxiety but dull the world enough for you to doze. You have no way to track the time but you wake in a similar light, still racked and cramped.

You push your elbow into the bed and lift yourself. Even just a half cup has your bladder urgently full. You rock and writhe until you manage to sit up and sidle to the edge.

You look around, just the idea of standing is defeating. You need to stop assuming things can't get worse. You brace the bed with one arm and repress a yowl as you force yourself to your feet.

You lean on one foot, your hip giving a frightening thrum as you slowly move your leg. You limp, inch by inch, shuffling as you whimper with each step to the door. You sniffle as you enter the hallway, leaning on the wall as your body shakes.

You feel along and find a bathroom and nearly fall through the doorway. You catch yourself on the sink and sob. You kick the door shut but it doesn't catch. You don't care.

You use your unslung arm to get your pants down and angle down onto the toilet. You lean back with a heave and let go. The soft trickle underlines your mewling.

You finish up and pull yourself up with the counter. You flush, bent over the marble as you slide over to wash your hands. You just need to get back to the bed. One thing at a time.

You put a foot flat and push yourself straight. Your lower back spasms and you cry out, crumpling onto the bath mat. You curl on your side and whine, gulping as your eyelashes stick together.

Footsteps near softly and you look up at the figure standing over you. Soft tisks tickle your ears as Jonathan bends to touch your forehead. He lets his hand wander down your cheek.

“Darling, you should've called for me. You know, that's your problem,” he shifts around and scoops his arms under you. He grunts as he stands straight, his strength a harsh contrast to your futility. “You try to do everything on your own. I'm here, darling. Whatever you need of me.”

You drop your head, hunched in his hold as he carries you into the hall. You don't argue. You learned better than that years ago. You should have realised then too that trust is a dangerous thing.

[kitashousewife]

something sweet

an: heehee i am suuuuuch a baking girly and i LOVE sweets and my sweet samu so i was quite excited for this hehe

pairings: timeskip!osamu x fem!reader

warnings: food mentions, husband samu!!, fluff, pet names, suggestive ending

-

Osamu walks through the kitchen, flicking lights on as he goes. He got home only a few minutes ago, changing out of his work clothes as quick as he can to get started.

He leans back, a satisfying pop rippling through his spine as the pressure from another busy day at Onigiri Miya fades away. Osamu reaches a cupboard, searching through different odds and ends of battery containers, broken flashlights, and dull pencils until his tired fingers reach the small recipe book underneath it all.

A smile appears on his face as he thinks of every childhood memory involving this book. Many moments of flour being thrown across the countertops, laughing at the crudely drawn gingerbread versions of both boys their Ma would present them, and so many more.

Rough fingertips trace the worn pages, flipping through until he reached the tried and true gingerbread recipe, handwritten by his Ma.

"Hey baby, you're home early," you greet from around the corner, rubbing your tired eyes as enter the kitchen. Osamu's heart swells. He knows you've been working so hard lately. He was quite excited for tonight, and hoped that maybe he could ease the stress a little bit.

"I decided that the snow was a good reason to close up early," he gives you a kiss on the lips, grinning when he feels you about to laugh.

"Good day to be the owner, huh?" you laugh, and Osamu can't help but laugh as well.

Only now do you realize what he's set up in the kitchen. The marble island is covered in different ingredients, measuring cups, cookie cutters, and so many decorations. In his large hands rests a rather dainty book, which you've heard all about.

"Sweetheart, could ya grab me an apron?" Osamu asks, giving you the sweetest smile. You hum, a grin of your own growing when you realize his regular black apron is in the wash.

"Here you go," you hold back a giggle, but your very focused husband doesn't mind. He hums, grabbing the fabric without looking. He slips his head through the halter, grabbing the ties to fasten them expertly around his middle.

Standing in the kitchen is a 6-foot-tall Osamu, donned in a rather frilly apron, trimmed with lace and bright green and red colors. Before he notices, you snap a photo of him holding the recipe book with focus, his other hand on his hip in one of the most festive outfits you've ever seen.

"What's so fun-oh," he stops when he realizes what apron you brought him, and shakes his head when your laugh finally breaks loose. "Ha ha ha, we'll see who's laughing when a certain someone doesn't get to try any of the cookies."

You scoff. "How cruel," you tease, hopping up onto the counter next to the large spread. He fits himself in between your legs, placing both warm palms on either thigh. He leans in, and the smell of his shampoo lingers as he gets closer. Right before he reaches your lips, he stops.

"Could ya soften two sticks of butter, please?"

You smack his arm, the playful gesture earning a giggle from your husband. But you oblige, only because you would love a gingerbread cookie.

Especially made from such a professional.

"Whenever Ma does holiday bakin', she makes a double batch of everythin'," he explains, carefully measuring out the brown sugar before adding it to the bowl. "That way, she can put a couple of each cookie on some plates to give to our friends."

Their Ma is always the most giving. She spares no expense to treat her boys, and now you any chance she gets.

"Besides gingerbread, what do we have on the menu tonight?" You turn over your shoulder, setting the oven temperature while Osamu mixes, since he always forgets.

"Well, I was thinkin' we could do some gingerbread men, some sugar cookies, and maybe some brownies. We could plate em' up and deliver em' tonight, if ya don't mind."

"That sounds lovely. Where do you need me?"

His large, strong arm pulls you in, propping you back up on the counter in your original spot.

"My pretty wife just needs to sit here, cause I got somethin' in store for ya later." he winks and gets back to mixing.

That "somethin'" he mentioned earlier was not what you expected.

"You want me to decorate every cookie?"

"You know I'm not good at it doll! Please," he whines, transferring the last cookies to their cooling racks. He's not wrong. The gingerbread house the two of you made a few days ago isn't going to win any contests.

"Look, I even made things easy for ya," he bribes, pulling out little bowls of candy, frosting filled piping bags, and decorative plates to transport your goodies on. You sigh in defeat, finally getting started.

The two of you work in tandem. You, decorating each gingerbread man with the same sugary grin and buttons, and Osamu, taking the last treats out of the oven and moving the dishes into the sink to be cleaned later.

"Samu, would you put the gingerbread men on the plates with the brownies while I finish up these sugar cookies?"

He hums, placing them quickly to give you enough room for your final creations. And, knowing your husband like you do, you finished an extra sugar cookie just for him.

"Okay, I think we are good to go," you wrap the final plate before grabbing what you can.

"The car is heated up and ready, where shall we go first?"

For the next hour, the two of you drive house to house, leaving treats at each one. The two of you finish at Ma's, where Atsumu happens to be as well.

The four of you spend the majority of your time laughing. Ma, telling stories of the twins at Christmas, both boys laughing and poking fun at each other. Before the two of you leave, Ma gives you both a kiss on the cheek and the warmest hug, thanking you over and over for spoiling her so much.

"I think that's all of 'em right?" Osamu asks before starting the car, looking around the seats to check for any.

"Just these!" you smile, holding up a plate with two gingerbread men on it. "I made them for us as a treat when we finished."

Osamu unwraps the plate, heart growing three times the size when he gets a chance to admire the gingerbread one.

One, who assumes is you, has the icing version of your hair, eyes, and smile, wearing your favorite sweater. The gingerbread version of him is wearing an apron, baseball cap, and has his tongue sticking out.

"Why'd ya make me so goofy?" he fake whines, pointing at the face. You cackle.

"It wasn't to be mean! I was trying to replicate your concentrated face at work!"

He laughs, before leaning over the center console to cup your face, swiping his thumb across your cheek.

"Thanks for all yer help tonight. I know doin' this is silly, but it means a lot to me. I love you," He beams. You lean into his warm palm, grabbing his arm.

"It's not silly, it's sweet," you tap his arm. "And, I love you too."

He pulls you in for a sweet kiss, pulling away to give you a kiss on the nose. The two of you begin your drive home, laughing and listening to the soft hum of the Christmas music on the car radio.

Osamu reaches for his gingerbread self, humming as he takes a bite.

"Just like Ma's," he says between bites, proud of his efforts.

"Why did you eat gingerbread Samu? You didn't want mine?"

He smirks, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on it as the two of you pull into the driveway.

"I'd rather eat the real you,"

"Samu!"

[kebriones]

Kostas Varnalis' poem "Alcibiades"

Translated from greek by me.

I decided, since it's poetry, and I'm not a poet, to translate it as directly from greek as possible, maintaining the syntax even where it's not making too much sense in English, just so it can be as close to the original as i could manage.

With myrtle's bend, woman's hand

you drag with you eternal summer,

steams of wines and moans and honey

on your tongue, poisonous star

on Athena's fort

Enmities and friendships you put to sleep

with your quick and whistling lie,

dyed in your homeland's blood,

and Erinyes were bathing and Muses

in your deep and clear spirit.

Fires seven at holy olympia

lit your chariots. Your horses

your generation's they lifted, with pegasus'

Wings, in the azure glow,

the nobility and the freedom.

Staggering one night from the debauchery,

you broke the gods in the narrow-alleys

like empty glasses of crystal.

Oh! How from the marble ruins

of Sicily echoed the grand

laments, and like nightingales Euripides'

Choruses, final comfort!

But yours, your light blade

and your warm heart and the cold mind

would beat fate, Hermes-cutter.

Come look! At the dawn's reddening

Sing the riggings and the flutes.

with divine crowned bay-branch

you drag tied onto you as a flock

The enemies' ships like hetairas

Undefeated at land and seas

and only by the passions defeated,

at your twenty-two always blooms

your youth, apollonius, fragrant,

Sweet lover, sweetest beloved.

[gabbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

So y’all know about my Will Wood x TNMN AU that i posted about right…

welp. It’s a thing now!!! Here we go!!! The Lineups + little lore stuff drizzled here and there!! NAMES AND DESIGNS WILL BE COMING SOON I SWEAR

Some ideas were influenced by @gmanwhore and @core-bagg they r super duper awesome + encouraged me to take this Au out of the drafts

(Everything else under the cut!!)

THE INHABITANTS OF THE TAPEWORM ASYLUM HOTEL!!

Floor 1 + The Normal Album

F1R1:

Roman- Suburbia Overture/Greetings from Mary Bell Township!

Lois- (Vampire) Culture

(Ooh, typical cookie-cutter white middle class 50s household? WRONG!!! BLOOD HARVEST ATTACK!!!! (The guy who’ll be in Roman’s is completely unaware of the shit his wife does. And was probably lobotomized by her to prevent said shit from being acknowledged, and properly comprehended by him)

F1R2:

Robertsky- Outliars and Hyppocrates (A fun fact about apples)

Albertsky- BlackBoxWarrior OKULTRA

(Ok so what if the Peachmans…were APPLEmans…think abt it…o and Albertsky’s gonna be based on a short story i like (the Lottery by Shirley Jackson))

F1R3:

Angus- Laplace’s Angel (hurt people? Hurt people!)

(Self explanatory. Fucked up Omnipresent demon buisnessman that makes deals with criminals and further ruins their lives. Yeah!!!)

F1R4:

Selenne- Love, Me Normally

Elenois- Memento Mori (the most important thing in the world)

(What if a Seraphim/Cupid hybrid and a defective Grim Reaper were sisters that were banished from their homeworld for being “defective” and “not taking their jobs seriously”. Basically their entire story!!)

Floor 2 + Self-Ish

F2R1

Arnold- The Song with Five Names

Gloria- Hand me my shovel, i’m going in!

(Tfw your wife and her nightmarish alter ego become a singular entity, and mangle your body and memory beyond mortal comprehension, love when that happens!!)

F2R2

Izaack-Mr. Capgras Encounters a secondhand vanity

(Local psychologist loses his marbles, and slowly regresses into his own client. Bro is playing doctor with himself 😭🙏)

F2R3

Margarette- Dr. Sunshine is Dead

(A once Beloved Astronomer goes WAYYY too far into her studies and loses herself in the process. She’s completely unrecognizable, a tarnished shell of her former self. She doesn’t quite get it, drowned in a hodgepodge her own ego, tears, and delusions.)

F2R4

Nacha- “Self-“

Anastacha- “-Ish”

(2/3 of a whole family. stuck in a time loop, due to a contract the deadbeat father just HAD to sign. What the fuck, Jimmy.)

Floor 3 + Everything is a Lot

F3R1

Mia- Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY (Bones)

Dr. W.-¡Aikido! (Neurotic/Erotic)

(An all-powerful being of divine machinery who worries too much for the safety of his hammy, awesome, but frail evil skeleton wife)

F3R2

Francis- Jimmy Mushrooms’ Last drink: bedtime in Wayne, NJ

(Time traveling Cordycep man who broke an oath and failed up his entire homeworld, now forced to reside in this nuthouse of a hotel, left to soak in the ruins of both himself, and his family. His family.)

F3R3

Steven- Lygerside Daydream

McLooy- Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq, G.F.D

(The personifications of tranquility and joy—and deep, writhing hate. Living together. Ain’t that silly?)

F3R4

Alf- Red Moon

Rafftellyn- White Knuckle Jerk (Where do you get off?)

(A corrupt victorian surgeon who mutilates her patients and anyone who dares cross her path, and her vampiric mothman plaything that follows her around like a shadow. (She reminds him of the moon))

Also before ppl ask: “but Gabby!!! Alf is a LAWYER!! Why not have his Au self be based on Thermodynamic Lawyer?” Because :]