#Powerful Pulley

[teenabizzrise]

We are a reputed Manufacturer, Exporter and Supplier of a comprehensive range of agricultural implements that includes Reaper Pulley, Straw Reaper Pulleys, Thresher Pulleys and Casting. We cater to international markets and hence make sure these products are manufactured as per the international quality standards. To make sure of the same, we use the finest quality raw material and components for the manufacturing process and only the high-tech machinery. Our products like Reaper Pulley, Straw Reaper Pulleys, etc manufactured after such quality measures, show some unmatched qualities like being user-friendly, long lasting and dimensionally accurate.

[skittles-the-whumpee]

So, with my car out of commission for the time being, my ex-wife is letting me borrow her vehicle.

Problem is, I need gas money in order to work and I can't make my own with my vehicle down.

I have no right to be asking for anymore help with anything, but if anyone can send any amount, I would be eternally grateful. 😔

Cashapp: $JuggernautShark

PayPal: @SweetSkittles90

[s6dennis]

midly annoying audiobook narrator 10000 dead

[allforthesong]

For my entire brain compulsively transing the gender of so many book characters, it really hasn't touched any Natasha Pulley books so far

[aurorawest]

Reading update

The Winter Spirits: Ghostly Tales for Festive Nights - 5/5 stars

I bought this solely for the Natasha Pulley story, "The Salt Miracles," (I WOULD READ A WHOLE BOOK ABOUT FLINT AND THE SAINT, MX PULLEY), but every story was really good. My kind of spooky.

Seriously though, I wanted so much more of "The Salt Miracles." How was it a queer love story despite not being a love story or queer? God I love Natasha Pulley.

Henry Hamlet's Heart by Rhiannon Wilde - 5/5 stars

Really lovely YA romance set in Australia. The yearning is impeccable. Also, I hate myself for saying this, but it's historical fiction—it's set in 2008.

Handmade Holidays by 'Nathan Burgoine - 3.5/5 stars

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin - 4/5 stars

Not an easy read. The main character, David, is despicable, but in large part because he lives in a society that expects rigid adherence to gender roles. One thing I found really interesting was repeated emphasis on the fact that David won't act, he waits for someone else to do it for him—he acknowledges that if Joey had asked him to stay, he would have, that if Giovanni had asked him to stay, he would have. And then Hella tells him that as a woman, she has to wait for men to tell her things, but David doesn't tell her he's gay, he waits for her to figure it out herself. Hella makes this into an explicitly gendered dichotomy, which is interesting with David constantly fretting about not being a man because of his queerness.

Queer classic, people should read.

Merry & Bright by Joanna Chambers - 5/5 stars

They Hate Each Other by Amanda Woody - DNF at pg 2

Contained the following absolutely baffling author's note, which I quickly became so resentful of that I stopped reading.

Against the Stars by Christopher Hartland - 4.25/5 stars

Near-future sci-fi where everyone gets one 44 second look into their future. Fairly dark for YA. Also thematically relevant to my MCU fic.

Mistletoe & Mishigas by MA Wardell - 4.25/5 stars

This book was lovely. I loved Theo so much. Sheldon is very annoying but also very lovable. And it's nice to read a Hanukkah romance!

Haunted Hearts by K Sterling - DNF at pg 2

Did anyone edit this?

The Bruising of Qilwa by Naseem Jamnia - DNF at pg 21

Wanted to like this one but it just wasn't very well written. You ever read books where it's obvious the author spent too much time on their wOrlDbuILdiNg to the exclusion of actually writing a good book? Yeah.

Between Shadow and Flame by CT Bryce - DNF at 26

Editors? Hello?? Seriously, I feel like people are writing manuscripts on their phones and uploading them directly to Amazon from there.

The Power of the Dog by Thomas Savage - 4.5/5 stars

Oddly I found this to be not as difficult of a read as Giovanni's Room, in my private game of Ranking Queer Classics Against Each Other. Obviously Phil is an awful man, but in the end I felt bad for him, tbh. Phil is like, a really catty twink wrapped in layers of toxic masculinity and repressed homosexuality. And then Peter is a sociopath. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to sympathize with Peter? I didn't think I was, but then I scanned Annie Proulx's afterword and it seemed like she thought we were supposed to? Obviously you feel worst for all the people Phil just heedlessly tears to ribbons because he's a maladjusted asshole. I think the thing is, there were just enough glimmers where Phil acts like a human being that I was like, maybe you can be saved! Ah, tragedy.

Anyway, good book, 10/10 would recommend. (and no, I haven't seen the movie)

[engineersmate]

Engineers Mate

Engineers Mate are the largest independent Distributor and stockist of MRO and related products in the Midlands.

We offer a 24/7 & 365 service throughout the West Midlands and Shropshire from our strategic locations. Our product range include bearings, electric motors, geared motors, belts and pulleys, chains and sprockets, PPE, and more!

Website: https://engineersmate.com/

Address:

Engineers Mate, Bay 1, First Avenue, The Pensnett Trading Estate, Kingswinford, West Midlands, DY6 7TF

Phone Number:

01952 676925

Business Contact Email ID:

sales@engineersmate.com

Business Hours: 

Mon - Fri : 08:30 am - 05:00 pm

Sat - Sun : Closed

[muratecheng]

Industrial Pulley Manufacturer - Muratech Eng

Keeping the World Moving: The Importance of Industrial Pulleys

Muratech Engineering Company, located in Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India, is a prominent manufacturer of industrial pulleys and other mechanical power transmission equipment. But what are industrial pulleys, and why are they so important in today's world?

Why are industrial pulleys essential in today's world?

Imagine a world without pulleys. Simple tasks like lifting heavy objects, running machinery, and even operating everyday appliances would become incredibly difficult. Industrial pulleys are the hidden heroes that transmit power and motion smoothly and efficiently. They're the workhorses behind a vast array of machines, from massive factory equipment to the belts driving the fans in your home.

What is the use of an industrial pulley?

Think of a pulley as a grooved wheel that works in conjunction with belts or ropes. The grooves help the belt grip the pulley, allowing it to transmit power between a driving force (like a motor) and a driven load (like a machine). By changing the size of the pulleys, we can alter the speed and direction of the rotating motion.

The different types of Industrial Pulley

Muratech Engineering offers a wide range of industrial pulleys to cater to diverse needs. Here are some common types:

V-belt pulleys: These have V-shaped grooves that mesh with V-belt pulleys, which are renowned for their strength and durability. Ideal for applications that require high-power gearbox.

Timing pulleys: These have precisely spaced teeth that interlock with toothed belts, ensuring exact synchronization and speed control. Essential in machinery like printers and conveyor belts.

How do pulleys make it simpler to lift?

Pulleys can significantly reduce the amount of force required to lift heavy objects. Imagine pulling a rope directly upwards to lift a weight. Now, imagine using a pulley system with a rope looped around it. By pulling the rope downwards at an angle, you can lift the same weight with less effort. Pulleys act as mechanical advantage tools, making seemingly impossible tasks manageable.

Which company is best for buying Industrial Pulleys in India?

Muratech Engineering, with its commitment to quality and expertise in pulley manufacturing, stands out as a reliable choice. They offer a vast selection of industrial pulleys for sale, catering to various applications and requirements.

Why Choose Muratech Engineering Company?

Muratech Engineering uses only the best materials to ensure their pulleys are strong, durable, and resistant to wear and tear. They offer a wide variety of pulleys to meet the specific needs of your project. With years of experience in the industry, Muratech Engineering has the knowledge to help you choose the right pulley for the job.

Contact Muratech Engineering Today

Whether you need industrial pulley for your factory or timing pulleys for a precise machine, Muratech Engineering has the industrial pulley solution for you. Visit our website at https://www.timingpulley.biz/or contact at +919586823032 to discuss your requirements and find the perfect pulley to keep your world moving.

[flamagenitus]

It's been 2 days since I did weight lifting with my dad and my body still hurts. My poor little noodle arms still can't extend to full range. I am an over-stretched hairband of a person

[kringelorde]

if I have to replace my oil pump before summer ends I’m going to start mailing GM parcels of piss

[freemusicdonut]

#avoidplastics#FollowTrafficRules#ourbestqualityproduct#ontimematerialdispatch#bestproducts#goodwillenginnering

#DrugFreeSociety#taperlockbush

which minimizes end disk deflection. However, of all hub and bushing systems, it has the lowest ability to grip the shaft.

Taper Lock Hubs and Adaptors are standardized components that are used to fasten components to shafts using conical Taper bushes. The hubs or adaptors are firmly connected to the component. Once fixed, the component is capable of transmitting torque while being secured against axial displacement.

What are taper bushes used for? Taper bushes are typically used on shafts to mount pulleys, sprockets and sheaves. They are split, flangeless bushings that use screws to tighten on the shaft and provide excellent clamping force.

[hitech-automations]

V-belt used for? V-belts are belts with a trapezoidal cross-section. Like other types of belts, they are used to transmit power or torque from the driving component to the driven component. V-belts get their name from their trapezoidal shape, which helps them wedge into the sheaves. Twisted synthetic fibrous tensile chords, compressed by synthetic rubber form a typical V-belt, rendering it strength and flexibility. A v-belt is a flexible machine element used that transmits power between a set of grooved pulleys or sheaves. They are characterized by their trapezium cross-section. V-belts are used because of their ability to wedge tightly into the grooves of the pulley.

[teenabizzrise]

Contact Us - Dhan Dashmesh Pvt. Ltd.

We are a reputed Manufacturer, Exporter and Supplier of a comprehensive range of agricultural implements that includes Reaper Pulley, Straw Reaper Pulleys, Thresher Pulleys and Casting. We cater to international markets and hence make sure these products are manufactured as per the international quality standards. To make sure of the same, we use the finest quality raw material and components for the manufacturing process and only the high-tech machinery. Our products like Reaper Pulley, Straw Reaper Pulleys, etc manufactured after such quality measures, show some unmatched qualities like being user-friendly, long lasting and dimensionally accurate

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 5

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

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.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

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 ❤️

Photo Inspo

The car ride is silent. You don’t mind. You have nothing to say. 

Your thoughts race to a fury. This is it. It’s over. You’re in trouble. Not the sort that would have you sobbing under your blankets. No, it’s the kind you don’t walk away from. 

You replay that night in your head. Why did you do it? There was nothing different about that night. Nothing excessive. No, you were just tired of it.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe the solution isn’t getting rid of your father. Maybe it’s you. It’s always been. He always hated you. All of you. 

Shadows flow over the car like waves in the ocean. The sky dims as evening deepens around the city. The wheels roll on with the silence. Tense and wrought. Driver nor passengers make a noise. 

Rogers drives beyond the city limits. You’ve heard your father tell the stories. He laughs with his accomplices about the latest snitch or thief. They die alone and begging. 

The warehouse stands like a skeleton against the moonlit sky. The shattered windows twinkle like the stars and the desolate lot sprawls like a swathe of black satin beneath the tires. The brakes lurch you forward and you catch yourself against the seat. 

“Out.” Rogers says. 

You don’t linger. You undo your seat belt and get out. There’s someone waiting to take care of you. To end it. Your eyes fill with tears. You’re not sad for yourself, you’re sad for your sisters. They’ll miss you. You didn’t tell them you loved them. 

As you stand outside the car, Rogers drives away. You’re left alone in the midst of the cracked pavement. You hug yourself with one arm and look around.

Will it be a quick shot? Will you be tortured? You remember your dad cackling about a man who had his nails removed from his fingers and toes. 

You flinch and whimper as metals rolls on a pulley. You look over as a large door opens upwards on its gears. A dark figure stands before the low glow from within. He signals with a hand. 

You go to them. Your heart pounds as you think of running. Of racing into the nothingness of the land. You won’t fare any better. 

As you near Barnes, he watches you calmly. He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t appear as a man about to murder you. He seems entirely unbothered by your misdeed. You went above one of his men. You showed disloyalty. The worse sin among his ilk. 

He touches your arm as if he were welcoming you into a house party, “doll.” 

You look at him in confusion. Your eyes skim away from him. There’s a sheet of plastic hung from the ceiling. Behind it, a light shines although the curtain obscures it like oil in water. There’s a chair on the other side. You notice another sheet on the floor. 

He’s silent as his hand slides down your arm. He squeezes and lets you go. He yanks the chain to lower the door. The squeak is jarring in the silence. There’s something else. Like a hiss and creak. 

You startle again as he places his hand against your lower back. He walks you forward. Your steps are rigid and clunky. He takes you closer to the plastic curtain. 

“Please, my sisters...” 

He hushes you. You sniff back your voice and your tears spill over. He leads you past the curtain. You turn to look at the chair and find more than that. A man sits, bound and gagged. Your father. 

Your heart plummets and your legs shake. Without meaning to, you lean on Barnes. He runs his hand up your back and clutches your shoulder before he draws away. He makes you stand on your own weight. 

He marches toward your father. He squirms in the chair as the boss rounds him and stands behind it. He faces you, his eyes mellow against the fraught scene he presents to you. 

“I thought on your request. I don’t often linger on things. I...” he pauses and thinks. “I make decisions. Tough ones and I make them quickly, otherwise, people get hurt.” He grips your father’s shoulders and pulls him to sit straight. The bound man grumbles and tries to thrash against the cord wrapped around him. 

“I can’t kill him for you,” Barnes declares. Another tide of confusion swells over you. Why are you here? 

Barnes steps away from the chair, his eyes pinpointed on you. He comes closer as he flips the small strap of his holster open. He slides out his pistol. You brace yourself. It’s a twisted game. 

“Doll, you don’t ask for stuff like that. That’s not how it works,” He lifts the gun, offering it with the muzzle down. “You do that shit yourself.” 

You bat away the tears as they dry up. You stare at him then look down at the gun. The silver but gleams under the glow of the hanging lightbulb above. The metal cage around it casts lines across you like a prison cell. He's dangling the key before you.

Your breath clogs in your throat. 

“I did what I could. He’s right here. You get what you want but I don’t do your dirty work, doll,” he pushes the gun toward you. “You know how to aim?” 

You shake your head and peel your dry lips apart. You look him in the face. You beg him with watery eyes. 

“I can’t-- I’m not--” 

“You came to my office and you said you want him dead. You don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” He snarls. 

“I’m sorry-” 

“Ain’t no apologies that can undo that,” he snips. “You get it?” 

Your lip trembles. You don’t know what to do. What to say. It’s you or him. You dreamed of, you wished your father dead for years, but it was never real. Barnes is right though. You don’t say it out loud. You can’t take back those words. 

“I saw what he did to you. It’s still there.” He lifts his free hand and touches the scab on your lip. “And he did the same to your sisters, didn’t he? And your ma before she died.” 

“Stop,” you beg him. 

“You got a choice. He knows what you asked for. He leaves this place and you won’t make it far,” he says. “Think about it. This is what you asked for. It’s what you didn’t say that night. If I do it, you get nothing. No closure. You been through of life of his torture. This is vendetta. He killed your ma. All those years, all those beatings...” 

“No,” you whisper. 

“No? So what happens? You go home to your sisters. I untie him. He’s not far behind. And they suffer too because he’s gonna think you worked together. Because you always do.” He says. “He won’t just get you, he’ll get them too.” 

“No,” you shove his chest without thinking as you shriek. “No!” 

He’s solid, unflinching against your force. You can tell by the grit in his jaw that he’s tolerating it for the sake of the moment. You pull your hands away and look past him. 

You stare at that man. At that monster. Your boogeyman. Your abuser. And you know that Barnes is right. Your mother died a slow death at his hands. You can’t let the same happen to you or your sisters. You prayed for a way out. This is it. One chance. 

One shot. 

“Show me,” you put your hand on the gun, teeth chattering. “I don’t know what to do...” 

He bows his head and pushes the gun against your hand. He looks down and moves your grip around it. “Like this.” He helps you grasp it and he moves around you. “Put your arms up.” He guides your arms up, “You wanna look down your arm, down the barrel.” 

You see your father at the other end of the gun. His eyes are wide and gleaming. He wriggles against the cords. He grunts around the gag. The chair does not move. He’s trapped. Just like the little girls hiding in their closet as he bangs on the outside. 

He’s scared. You’ve never seen him afraid. 

Barnes explains but you barely hear him. Your heart surges with adrenaline and you stiffen with instinct. You’re ready. You’re ready. 

“Then, you pull the trigger...” he says. 

He lets you go and backs up. You sense his shadow behind you, then it fades away with the rest of the place. It’s only you and your father. The end. 

You take a breath and move your finger to the trigger. You steady your hands as you brace the pistol with both, just like Barnes said. And you squeeze. 

The bang is deafening and the force knocks you back. Your father lurches then his head slouches to the side at an unnatural angle. You gape at the sight of the hole beneath his cheek. Your arm drops and the gun hits the floor. 

You stagger as your legs shake then fold beneath you. A new silence surrounds you in the echo of the single shot. The period at the end of the sentence. 

[publicdomainreview]

On the sketchbook of 15th-century engineer Johannes de Fontana, a catalogue of designs for fantastic and often impossible inventions, including fire-breathing automatons, pulley-powered angels + the earliest surviving drawing of a magic lantern device: https://publicdomainreview.org/essay/the-dreams-of-an-inventor-in-1420

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: Augh I loved writing this so much help- I think the new Damsel movie affected me too much 😭 Biggest thanks to @cashmoneyyysstuff for beta reading this she’s a QUEEN Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Light cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, Shinso is a year younger than reader, reader is 20 years old, f!reader, reader's mother is dead, medieval fantasy setting, reader's childhood friend is Kirishima, but you're also close friends with Deku and Ururaka, mentions of perverted actions (not done by a name character though, reader's nickname is Cactus, slight spoilers of the actual show/manga, reader is shorter than Kirishima and Shinso, some mentions of IzuOcha.

Pairing(s): Katsuki Bakugou x reader, Izuku Midoriya x Ochako Uraraka

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: A Pot of Stew

Ssssss.... 

The crackle of the fireplace is all you really hear as you flit around through your home, grabbing the big stew pot from the wooden cabinet. The house was quiet, which was surprising, considering you lived with three other people.  

Your father was out with his friend, hoping to catch some fish before the harsh winter would freeze over the lakes. You had sent your brother out earlier to fetch some tomatoes from the market, as the small garden you maintained only produced lettuce, potatoes, onions, and strawberries when they were in season. Hopefully the tomatoes your brother brought back could have seeds that you could save to plant in the spring.  

Your sister was most likely out at Chiyo’s home, the old woman ran the local apothecary was sweet enough to allow the small girl to aid her in crushing herbs and spices to create the medicines that lined her shelves.  

Walking outside, you grab the big bucket by the door, making your way to the home of the Kirishimas, who had a well they let you use to fetch water.  

You mentally groan, knowing that carrying a bucket of water would be a bitch to carry back home. Hopefully you could bug your red-haired friend to aid you in carrying it home if he was around.  

He wasn’t there unfortunately, hooking the bucket to the rope before sending it down to collect water. Once if was full, you pulled the rope that you were holding onto with all your strength, allowing the pulley system to bear most of the weight. 

Deadpanning, you know most of the water that spills out will end on you, sighing in defeat with the resignation that complaining will get you nowhere. You had a family to feed.  

Rolling up the sleeves of your white blouse, you grab the bucket’s handle with both hands, almost dropping it from the sheer weight of it, lamenting the cold sting of the water against your skin as it seeps through your leggings.  

It was almost comical, the way your face was scrunched in concentration as you made your way home, watching your step from the occasional loose pebble so you wouldn’t trip. Your muscles ached, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle, considering how much worse you’d been through when it came to other tasks that required similar feats. It was another perk of being the oldest child, though you were only a year older than your brother, yet you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your family meant the world to you, and you would do everything in your power to protect them. 

Reaching the steps leading up to the door of your home, you set the bucket down finally, your arms practically singing in relief, only for you to pick it up again after turning the doorknob and closing the door shut with your boot-clad foot.  

Making your way to the stew pot that was currently sitting over the fire, you fill it with the water you fetched, letting it boil while you prepared the vegetables you needed.  

Busying yourself with chopping the ingredients you already had, you took the sprigs of cilantro you saved from a few days ago and sliced them so they were thin enough. As you worked your way through the small pile, the door opened to reveal a familiar tuft of purple hair.  

“Hey Toshi!” you call out, waving from the kitchen to signal your presence.  

Your brother takes notice, entering the room and setting the sack of tomatoes on the counter before making his way over to you, ruffling your hair in affection before raising an eyebrow.  

“How much stew are you making?” he asks suspiciously “The four of us aren’t going to be able to eat all of that in time before it tastes bad.” 

You snort, rolling your eyes. “You underestimate Eri’s appetite. Plus, Ejiro, Ochako and Izuku are coming over to join us. I’m making enough for each of our families.” 

Hitoshi chuckles in response, walking over to the makeshift pantry you made a few months ago, grabbing a loaf of bread. “Y/N, you would feed the entire village if you could. Actually, you could, but we wouldn’t let you.” he rolls his eyes playfully and you send him a halfhearted glare.  

“It’s called being nice, Mr. Hitoshi Aizawa, a concept foreign to your cold heart.” you say, placing the back of your hand on your forehead dramatically.  

He groans, taking the knife from you to slice the bread, while you move to take the tomatoes. “Ugh stop, you sound like Toshinori.” he gripes, punching your shoulder in annoyance. 

A giggle bursts out of your lips at that, abandoning the tomatoes you were washing in the basket to strike a pose, letting out an “I AM HERE!” in the best Toshinori Yagi impression you could.  

They used to call him All Might, a war hero who was known for bringing your home country countless victories, the wars he entered had casualty numbers so low that you wondered if he was blessed by the gods. Blessed in the past tense though, as after a critical injury in a recent war, he was deemed unable to fight and left the army with an honorable discharge, growing into the old man he was today, running a stand at the marketplace where he sold quality vegetables from his extensive garden. 

You must’ve looked ridiculous as you posed however, because your brother cackles, throwing his head back and smiling so wide his face must’ve hurt. You laugh too, happiness bubbling in your chest from seeing him so happy as well. You chuck an unwashed tomato at him, knowing he’d catch it, and reprimand him.  

“Okay now get back to work you rodent, we’re feeding a group of seven tonight.” you tease, sticking out your tongue and he tosses the tomato back to you, returning to slicing the bread.  

You both spent the next hour or so like that, trading banter and occasionally fighting, but managing to be productive as you finish cutting all your vegetables, throwing them into the stew pot, creating a lovely aroma that makes your stomach growl in hunger.  

You hear a knock at the door, Hitoshi opting to answer it. It was Chiyo, returning Eri home for the day, the girl in question had a bright smile on her face, and a few bottles of unknown liquids in her hands that were sure to join the others in the washroom’s medicine cabinet. 

“Toshi!!” she squeals, and you smile, hearing a small uff! escape the purplenette’s lips, knowing that Eri most likely hugged him around his legs, the only part of him she could really reach at the moment. Sometimes it was infuriating how much taller he was than you. 

Your brother thanks Chiyo, and the old lady leaves with the promise of fresh baked goods during her next visit. 

“Where’s Y/N??” Eri asks excitedly, and you want to snort at her random burst of hyperness.  

“M’over here banana.” you call from where you sat in front of the fireplace, and Eri trudges over with an annoyed look over her face.  

“I told you not to call me that!” she whines, huffing as she sits down next to you, trying to look into the pot to see what you were making.  

“Careful- it’s hot.” You warn, gently pushing her away. “Plus you love bananas!” 

Your little sister makes a face plopping down to lie on the floor with a grumpy expression. “I hate bananas.” she grumbles, stretching her limbs out to take up as much of the floor as she could. 

You quirk up an eyebrow “Are you sure? You sure look like one.” you say gathering her hair once she sits up and holding it high above her head to resemble the elongated shape of a banana fruit. 

She splutters, and you snort releasing her hair, so it falls straight into her face, and returning your attention to the stew, stirring it and taking the wooden spoon you had out, gathering some of the liquid before bringing it to your lips, tasting it briefly.  

“Toshi!” you call from where you sat. “Can you bring me some paprika?”  

You hear a Yeah whatever come from the hallway, and you return your attention back to your sulking sister.  

“Y’know for someone so nice, you’re really mean.” she pouts, and you smile in a half hearted apology, fixing her hair.  

“Eri, my job as your sister, as well as Toshi’s as your brother, is to be mean to you because we love you so much. If we were nice to you all the time, wouldn’t we be boring?” you ask. 

“Hmm... I guess. Is Izuku coming over today?” she asks, laying her head on your lap looking up at you with impossibly huge sparkling red puppy eyes.  

You laugh, flicking her nose lightly. Izuku was her favorite out of your friends, probably because he worked in the markets, for Toshinori no less, and he brought her apples every day. 

“Yes, Izuku’s coming over for dinner tonight, so go wash up and be on your best behavior.” you say warningly, and she nods, jumping up excitedly and rushing to your shared room.  

Hitoshi enters the living room at that moment, sprinkling the paprika into the stew until you told him to stop, stirring lightly before tasting and grinning in satisfaction.  

Handing him the spoon, Hitoshi has a taste of his own, his eyes lighting up as the flavors hit his tastebuds.  

“Damn.” is all he says, and you punch his leg, happy that he likes it, but scolding him for his language.  

“Eri’s in the other room idiot, go change and I’ll get dinner served before they get here.” you order, shooing him out and you grab a damp towel from the kitchen to carry the pot into the room, setting it on the countertop and placing aforementioned towel on top so it stays warm. Putting out the fire in the living room, you open a cabinet, grabbing a large plate and exactly seven bowls and spoons. Setting the dishes around the large wooden dining table, you spoon equal amounts of stew into each of the bowls, the aroma even stronger now, and you give Eri extra because you know she’ll ask you for more later. 

You brought out the wooden carved drinking cups that you had, a gift from your late mother, setting them around the table and filling them with some of the remaining water from the well. Putting the plate in the middle of the table, you set the bread Hitoshi cut from earlier along with some goat cheese gifted to you by Izuku the previous day.  

Wiping your hands on your apron, you sigh, about to call for your siblings before you hear a knock at the door, revealing a smiling Ejiro Kirishima.  

“Hey Eji!” you beam, wrapping your arms around your lifelong friend, who reciprocates the action and spins you around before setting you down, welcoming himself in- he'd been to your home so frequently certain mannerisms weren’t needed anymore.  

“Hey Cactus!” he smiles back, and you roll your eyes at the nickname.  

Ejiro insisted that your kindness was always a facade and that you were a fiery beast that even hell was afraid of in secret, and the redhead had given you the nickname once seeing you scold man around your age for trying to look up Ochako’s skirt. You insisted you weren’t usually like this, but the nickname stuck, a term of endearment used only by your closest friends.  

You smack his forearm, and roll your eyes, still smiling however, leading him to the dining room before calling out for your siblings.    

Eri bounds in, only to be swept up in Ejiro’s arms, giggling as he spins her around to simulate flight.  

He sets her down and she jumps up, “Again, again!” she chants.  

He groans, feigning pain. “But you’re so heavy!” He says, pretending to faint in your direction, and you roll your eyes and push him off, laughing. “I think you got bigger since the last time I saw you.” 

Eri giggles, putting her hands on her hips. “I saw you this morning silly! That was only...” she counts on her fingers. “47 hours ago!”  

You want to laugh, knowing that it was only about 13 hours since she last saw the red haired male, but Ejiro only groans even more.  

“Exactly! You grew so much from then! You might become even taller than your sister.” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.  

Eri giggles, and Hitoshi joins you three in the living room, stealing a piece of cheese from the table and popping it in his mouth.  

"I'm not short!" You grumble, crossing your arms. "You and Hitoshi are just stupidly tall."

You hear another knock on the door, leaving Ejiro and your siblings to their devices as you answer it. Opening the door, you’re met with Izuku, accompanied by Ochako, both giving you a hug as you let them in, exchanging their signature greetings.  

“Hey Cactus!” they both chirp in unison and you snort, ruffling Izuku’s hair and squeezing Ochako’s shoulder.  

“Hey you two!” you say, smiling knowingly. Ever since the two of them became a couple, they were practically joined at the hip.  

You make your way to the dining room, where Ejiro is seen with Eri on his shoulders, the latter playing with former’s hair while he talks to your brother.  

Eri’s eyes light up, practically launching herself off the poor red head- thankfully Izuku catches her, producing another apple from his satchel.  

You groan, knowing that if Eri ate too many she would grow to get sick of them, but you let her be, knowing that she was happy.  

You all sit down to eat, Shinso on one side of you and Eri on the other. Ejiro sat next to your brother and Izuku sat next to Eri with his girlfriend on his other side.  

Catching up with your friends, and eating the food you made, your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the empty seat at the head of the table, where your father sat.  

He still hadn’t returned from his fishing trip.  

You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, yet you couldn’t help but worry. Your father, Shota Aizawa sustained a terrible injury in a war a few years ago, forcing him to amputate his own leg in order to prevent the toxins from a poison covered arrow from reaching his neural system. It was the same year your mother had died, leaving you, a grieving ten-year-old you to take care of your father as well as a nine-year-old Hitoshi and a newborn Eri. You were forced to grow up fast in those times, a dark patch for your family, yet it became a big part of who you were today.  

Which included your boundless paranoia, thinking the worst as the time ticked by, with no sight of your father.  

Hitoshi takes notice, sending you a worried glance, opening his mouth to say something before the door swings open. 

It was your father, relief flooding through you before you took in his haggard state. He looks tired, more tired than usual. Your father always looked tired, but never weary.  

His eyes scan the room, frantically looking around, before the settle on you.  

“I have bad news.” 

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[rustedhearts]

at seven a.m, the bedroom bathed in a soft, buttery light. you were perfectly perched beneath the fluffy duvet, cheek buried into your fluffed pillow with your eyes clamped shut. the world was quiet and serene.

then at 7:02, an atrocious grinding noise cut through the house.

you shot up in bed with a gasp, hands flying to your head. it took a moment of readjusting to the soft light and conscious awareness before you slapped your hands on the duvet and groaned.

“steve!” you whined. you waited a moment for an answer, but the blender was deafening.

shoving your feet into the slippers at your bedside, you pushed yourself out of bed and snatched the robe draped over the end of the bed. it was securely fastened around your waist by the time you entered the kitchen where steve was holding the power button on the blender with an iron hold.

“steeeeeve! the blender, really?”

the whirring and grinding continued, and—feeling a little petulant—you stomped your way to steve with your fingers plugging your ears and tapped his shoulder.

“steve!”

he turned, brows raised and lips parted in surprise. his eyes looked especially green this morning in the gentle daybreak sunlight, and you tried not to let the soft, puffy boyishness of his appearance distract your sleepy irritation.

“oh hi, angel. mornin’.”

he leaned forward for a kiss that you jerked away from. steve knitted his brows together and slipped his bottom lip into a pout.

“steve, you woke me up,” you whined.

he looked at the blender he was still resting his hand on and pulled it away. “oh. sorry, baby. but…gimme a kiss.”

it was his turn to whine, and you couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from your mouth at his very own petulance. you pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth and felt his hand slide over your ass under the hem of your bed shirt. he left a sharp slap when you leaned into his chest.

“mm! jesus, steve.”

“don’t walk around shakin’ it like that then.”

another giggle, smacking at his chest. “i was not! i came down to scold you for the noise.”

he grazed his lips over your head and pulled the blender from the stand while your arms remained wound around his torso in iron-clad restraint.

“consider me scolded, baby,” he cooed as he shuffled his way to the cupboard for glasses, dragging you along as he went.

your slippers shucked over the tile and caused for another eruption of giggles as he walked you around the room like a pulley-rope horse.

“want your smoothie back in bed then, sleepyhead?” steve inquired over his shoulder.

“yes,” you sighed dramatically, eyes squeezed shut. “but you’ll have to carry me.”

you expected a huff, but instead heard the glasses clink as steve moved them between the fingers of one hand.

“alright.”

and then you were being hoisted over his shoulder and bumping your nose into the fat of his ass with the force. once more wracked with laughter on the ascent back to the bedroom, where he tossed you like a rag doll toward your rumpled place in bed. he joined you thereafter, a smoothie on each nightstand and his finger hooked in the band of your panties beneath the hem of your bedshirt.

“now, drink your smoothie and give me a real good morning kiss, sugar.”