#mini box

[barama-grw-blog]

barama.com.au Enjoy savings of up to 50% on our exquisite Casemade Mini Boxes, available in a delightful array of colours! Don't miss out on this fantastic opportunity to snag a bargain. These charming boxes are ideal for presenting jewellery, sweets, or any other cherished small items, making them perfect for thoughtful gifting occasions. Hurry and treat yourself or a loved one to these beautifully crafted mini boxes while stocks last!

[tapeskingdom]

Gift box washi masking tape

[thegothicalice]

Another Buffyverse mini scene, of the front part of the Magic Box ✨ Featuring modified & painted Willow & Tara figures and almost everything built from scratch or found at Michael’s and a local antique mall. 12”x8”x9” with working lights.

[paintpaintpaintman]

Got too much wool... their mom was a VERY wooly sheep (think equivalent of a baby doll) and although they inherited about half as much, it still is a hassle to deal with. Not exactly sexy, but it does give 70s Workout Clothes vibes!

Goat version here!

[r-aindr0p]

HELP! I FOUND ONE AT MY WORK!!!!!

WHAT DO I DO!?

😱😱😱

🎉CONGRATS ON BEING A SURPRISE PARENT 🎉A care box will be sent to you

[lenny-link]

Sniperscout and spydad just being there, ready to snap mick mundeez nuts’s neck.

The story of their first kissh

Made just the first page then thought it was a bit boring so i added a lil continuation lol

Bonus doodle inspired by this post :

[valverii]

what’s up, back again w my new hobby of putting sskk in common romance troupes lolololololol

[nowimjustastranger]

Omgg the dimension in the stcmo au where Stanley destroys his own dimension with Stanford and the dead twins in it is fkn killing me 😭 He was fully ready to die with the world, seeing that his world (the kids) had already ended anyway :(

How do you think Stanley died in the other dimension, where Stanford and the twins survived but he didn't? I also really wanna know what their reactions were to meeting each other again or if their memories were altered or not!

I love this AU to death and beyond, please never die 😔🙏

Honestly, the possibilities are endless in terms of how exactly Stan goes out (destroying Bill in the process).

And as for the relocated Stan...

Stan hit the ground and, for the first time in his life, he just stayed down. That tiny voice in the back of his head that had kept him going all these years had finally fallen silent, leaving him to drown in his overwhelming despair. He didn’t care to pick himself back up again. There was no point.

His kids were gone. Snuffed out before they could even live their lives. His brother, who he had just brought home, killed with the press of a button. He was pathetically thankful that he hadn’t been the one to activate the doomsday device, he didn’t think he could’ve lived with himself knowing that he had killed his big brother with his own hand.

Not that he had been planning to survive the explosion, which was another matter that he was just too worn down to address. Honestly, he didn’t really give a shit about the mystery man or his intentions. Even so, he should be furious that the mystery man kept him from joining his family, but he was hollowed out by the realization that he was the only one left.

Why was he always the last man standing?

He couldn’t bear to go another day without Mabel’s smile. The girl had bullied her way into his heart and carved out a space for herself, bringing enough love for the both of them with her. His sweet girl who loved glitter a little too much and drew trouble to her like a magnet, the girl who saw a sad old fuck and reminded him that life was worth living with every joke, every kind word, every laugh, every hug.

How could he possibly face another day without Dipper’s laugh? The boy had snuck into his heart not long after his sister had gotten comfortable, settling down like he had simply always been there. His brave boy who reminded Stan so much of his brother and himself, a strange amalgamation of both of them. Their best qualities put into one body.

Had he told them that he loved them? Even once? Had he ever uttered those words to his kids?

Did they die unsure of how much they meant to him? Did they die doubting that Stan loved them more than anything in the entire universe? Did they die quick or slow? Did they die scared, wanting their Grunkle to protect them from a cosmic bully? Did they die wishing that they’d never met him? Did they die cursing that they ever came to Gravity Falls–

His kids had to know that Stan would’ve given anything, struck any deal, endured any torment, killed anyone he had to so long as it meant that they got to be happy.

Stan didn't even realize he was crying until he pressed his forehead against the ground, shocked back into his own body by the soft rasp of greenery against his face. His shoulders heaved with the force of his sobs, hands fisted into the grass as he wailed his grief into the soil.

Grief for not telling Soos that he was like a son to him. Grief for not thanking Wendy for putting up with his shit. Grief for not telling Dipper that he was proud of him. Grief for not putting Mabel’s insecurities to rest before they could fester. Grief for waiting for a fucking ‘thank you’ instead of just hugging his damn brother like he had longed to do for the past forty years. Grief for not spending more time with all of them while he could.

As Stan’s pathetic tears finally dried up, a sound was carried on the breeze, every muscle in his body locking up as he raised his head. His brain stalled like an old engine, wide eyes staring off into the thick foliage. He was half convinced that his mind had finally fractured and he was hallucinating even as his body moved, scrambling to his feet to race through the forest.

Even if it was just a cruel trick of his mind, he couldn’t just ignore it. Not when it was his kids. And certainly not when his kids were crying. In no world could he ignore the sound of the niblings' distress. If they needed him, he’d be there. Easy as that. He would sooner light himself on fire than let them think that they couldn’t come to him with their problems, his discomfort with feelings and emotions could fuck right off.

As he got closer to the origin of the sound, he could actually make out words. His heart stuttered in his chest as he pushed himself faster and faster still because they were calling for him. They were wailing his name like two scared little kids lost in a big world that was too cruel for the likes of them. So, he answered their desperate call, just like he always would.

“Kids!”

Stan charged through the brush, erupting into a small clearing with three people standing in it. The first figure he recognized immediately as his brother, whose arm was raised to aim a triangular gun at Stan’s chest. The niblings were hidden behind him, clutching the fabric of his slacks as they peeked at Stan with huge wet eyes. Stan stumbled to a stop, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Surprisingly, no one in the clearing broke the silence, a voice ringing out from a sturdy branch in a nearby tree.

“It’s not a trick, Stanford.” A heavily modulated voice spoke as a dude in flashy getup stared down at them from his perch. In the blink of an eye, another gun was drawn from Ford’s trench coat, pointed at the man that Stan had been manhandled by earlier. His face was set with grim determination, but there was a telling shake to the hand that aimed the gun at Stan.

“You better start talkin’ or I’ll come up there n’ beat some answers outta you.” Stan demanded, sparing a glare for the stranger. He must’ve followed Stan here, which meant that he had also seen Stan blubbering like a pansy earlier. Great.

“The Stan of dimension F9-2 took his own life to defeat Bill, leaving your dimension without a Stanley Pines. Stan from dimension C40”0 was the only one to survive Weirdmageddon, his world destroyed by his brother’s last-ditch effort to kill Bill, leaving him without his family.” The stranger explained, gesturing to each brother in turn as he addressed them.

“So, you… brought him here?” Mabel tentatively piped in with a sniffle, poking her head out more, and Stan had to swallow the urge to tell her to keep out of sight. Now that he was getting a good look at the trio, he was noticing the differences, like how Ford was wearing the same suit that Stan himself currently had on, except it was far less tattered.

“I did.” The stranger confirmed with a slow nod and the niblings shared a look, communicating with just their eyes. Stan remembered when he used to do that with Ford, way back when their only worry was if they could get one last game of pirates in before they were called home for dinner. Stan hadn’t been that close to Ford since middle school, back before a yawning chasm of distance opened between them.

“Who are you?” Ford growled, his eyes narrowed as he shifted most of his attention to the stranger, who tilted his head in a predatory manner that made the hair on the back of Stan’s neck stand on end. Stan let his arms slowly drop down to his sides since the gun that had been aimed at him had been lowered slightly, Ford clearly prioritizing the bigger threat.

“A concerned third party.” The stranger said, not missing a beat before he shifted his weight to fall backward. He disappeared in the blink of an eye only to reappear right behind Stan, who squawked in alarm and outrage as one hand seized the back of his neck while the other pointed a weird gun behind them to open another colorful gateway. Stan threw an elbow back at the stranger, who caught it with practiced ease after swiftly holstering the gun.

“But if you’re unwilling to house him in your dimension–” The stranger began, before being unceremoniously interrupted by two small bodies darting out from the safety that Ford's body provided and throwing themselves at Stan.

“No! You can’t have Grunkle Stan! Please don’t take him away!” Mabel wailed with no small amount of terror, her tiny arms struggling to fit around Stan’s waist, clutching fistfuls of his jacket. Dipper was no better, quite literally sitting on Stan’s shoe in order to cling to his right leg with all four of his limbs while he begged the stranger to let Stan stay with them.

“Hey, hey… I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Stan soothed, voice lowered to a low rasp as he abandoned his effort to get the bastard behind him to let go in favor of getting a hand on each of the kids. One of his hands went to Dipper’s head while the other pressed against Mabel’s hitching back, the two pressing into the contact like they were starving for it. Stan turned his head just enough to level the visor of the stranger’s helmet with a dark look, daring him to disagree. “Right, pal?”

“Depends on him.” The stranger retorted, pointedly nodding at Ford, who had taken to aiming the gun directly at the stranger’s helmet. Thankfully, the portal had closed on its own, shrinking out of existence, and as a result, Ford’s posture had visibly lost some tension. Stan figured that it was because the kids had been in danger of going through with him had the stranger followed through with his threat.

“My brother stays.” Ford bit out through clenched teeth, something bordering on manic in his eyes. Stan noticed that Ford’s hand wasn’t shaking this time, his aim perfectly steady. Stan wasn’t sure why this stood out to him until he recalled that Ford’s hand had been trembling earlier when he had the gun pointed at Stan, which was far more shocking than it should’ve been.

“If you ever hurt Stan… I’ll be back and you will never see him again.” The stranger warned, drawing the weird sci-fi gun in a dark blur and firing it off to the side, smoothly stepping into the swirl of colors before both the stranger and the portal were gone. Stan stood there dumbly, staring at the empty space where the portal used to be until his attention was redirected to the warm body that crashed into him.

Stan yelped as he went down in a heap of flailing limbs, instinctively struggling as strong arms wound around his body. However, Stan froze when he heard a choked sob, blankly staring up at the cloudless blue sky in utter disbelief as Ford broke down in tears. Ford’s face was buried in the crook of Stan’s neck, his glasses digging into skin, but Stan didn’t care because he was clinging to him and the kids just as tightly.

And if his eyes were wet and his cheeks damp, it was just allergies.

[lovelyhellokitty]

Flower & Youth Pochacco Blind Boxes

[spirit-lanterns]

slaps herta's ass and runs away

her robots snatch you and dump you in her room like ants, locking the door as they leave you for her to punish

Slapping Madame Herta’s ass is a death wish 💀

You won’t run that far when she commands her army of Mini-Hertas to hunt you down and drag you back to her office, locking the doors and leaving you alone while she walks casually to her desk drawer…

Your fate is sealed when you see Madame Herta pick up some handcuffs and a paddle while slapping it against her hand menacingly.

[thegothicalice]

Anya at the Magic Box ✨Another Buffy figure display! 10”x10” shadowbox with custom resculpted & painted Anya; includes real herbs, and weapons from previous BtVS figure collections.

[solianapaeris]

[seeminglydark]

What's the timeline for John realizing who caro is? In the most recent comic of them you reblogged, John says caro "feels like home" implying he doesn't realize they're his high school sweetheart. Is there a period where caro recognizes John but not vice versa? That dynamic would be super interesting!! (P.s. I absolutely adore your characters!!!!)

John has a a lot of scrambled and blanked out memories, and it does take him a little while to connect the dots. You're correct that in the latest comic i posted, he doesnt remember them that way. it goes like this

Caro finds his picture on his jobs social media and shows up, and ONE HUNDRED percent knows who he is. He knows who Caro Greene is, he does not connect that this was his highschool sweetheart. He is embarrassed.

Caro starts showing up more. He has at this point been told but now he's completely humiliated and avoids them at every turn- til they run into eachother in the back, and the mini comic happens where he says they feel like home. They are familiar, their flirting and the way they act around him, and hes starting to uncover his own memories of them.

Sometime later he ends up walking them to their bike after an outing they were both at, confesses he DOES remember and he feels stupid, Caro is kind and understanding, teases him and then things go south from there (not relationship wise but Ghost wise), you can read that part in Mil-Liminal here or Seemingly Dark here (SD has some discrepancies because I didnt know i was going to make them highschool sweethearts at the time, just fyi, its still one of my favorite chapters of all time, he does say he didnt KNOW them, hes wrong, ignore him.)

So yeah basically caro knows who he is THE WHOLE TIME and just rolls with it while laying it bed at night and sweating because they are trying to be cool and chill and not totally offended since OBVIOUSLY he has ptsd and a little neurological damage cuz he DIED and all but they are freaking out, I assure you. Meanwhile HE'S freaking out cuz why is CARO FUCKIN' GREENE giving him googoo eyes every time they are near him?!

[gods-perfect-idiots]

something something blood-soaked hands cradling your face something something

anyway here's the post btw

[nart-is-a-monster]

Ya know me I'm not normal Abt the fic, so here you go THE BLOODY MARRY SCENE BC I've been thinking of it lately :3333

AAAAAAAAND here's the link of the fic :D

And if you see this and have no idea why Varian is in that situation

Go read the fic so we can be not normal Abt the fic together U__U

And go follow @glitter-lisp @eggmuffinwaffles bc they have written the thing and I love them (and you should too) :333

[nowimjustastranger]

What would the relocated prosses look like from the other Stanford? Like there's a man outsidr his house dress all black with a Stanley beside him

I thought my The Ghost of You AU would work well with this ask, so I took the liberty of writing a little something! Also, in both Stan and Ford’s dimensions, Ford was born with heterochromia instead of polydactyly. Ford's right eye is blue while his left is brown.

Ford couldn’t stop staring, his wide eyes fixed on one of the two strangers that were currently standing on his front porch. The taller one caught his eye first, mostly because he was dressed in all black and wearing a black and red helmet. The shorter of the pair who caught his gaze next and kept it, was wrapped up in a thick and soft black blanket, his shoulders hunched and head ducked so his dirty and matted hair concealed his face.

Regardless of Ford’s inability to see the shorter stranger properly, every bone in his body was vibrating at his proximity to this mystery man.

“It seems that you’ve lost something, Stanford Pines.” The taller man said in a robotic voice, eliciting only the briefest glance since Ford couldn’t shake the feeling that the filthy man standing before him would simply vanish if he looked away for too long.

“I… have lost many things. You’ll have to be more specific.” Ford retorted, dismissing the helmet-clad man as unimportant considering that every fiber of his being longed to reach out to the smaller male. His fingers twitched with the desire to touch, to feel the man’s warmth, to assure himself that the man was solid and there and not at all like those fleeting glimpses of a familiar silhouette that he sometimes saw out of the corner of his eye.

“This,” The helmeted man began as he delicately rested one of his gloved hands on the other man’s shoulder, drawing Ford’s eyes away from the other man’s face and to the offending hand. “Is Stanley Pines. Your twin brother.”

“Pardon?” Ford blinked, tearing his gaze away from the casual contact between them. Though he never did manage to fix the helmeted man with the dubious look that was warranted because the shorter man had raised his head and Ford was struck dumb by the nearly identical face that greeted him.

Ford moved before he was even aware of it, coming to a reluctant stop when a body stepped into his path, blocking Stanley from view. Ford had a knife in his hand faster than he could blink, the blade pressed against the man’s femoral artery in a blatant threat. Granted, the tremor in Ford’s hands made it hard for him to hold the knife steady, but he managed well enough.

“He’s been through incomprehensible cruelty for the better part of five years. It would be wise not to trigger a trauma response by recklessly grabbing him.” The helmeted man said firmly in that same emotionless voice, yet his words still somehow sounded like a scolding. Ford would be impressed under different circumstances.

“I won’t grab him.” Ford bit out, pointedly tucking the knife back into its sheath before holding his hands up. The helmeted man shuffled out of the way, letting Ford get eyes on Stanley. Stanley had ducked his head again so Ford simply dropped to his knees, bracing his hands on the porch before leaning forward. He craned his neck to peer up at Stanley, who was already staring down at him with alarmingly empty doe eyes.

“There you are.” Ford murmured, unable to stifle the awe in his voice. Stanley’s dull eyes abruptly focused on him when he spoke, finally seeing him.

“… Ford?” Stanley croaked, his expression pinching as if he were in pain. Ford could see Stanley’s jaw flex as he ground his teeth together, and Ford suddenly knew with absolute certainty that Stanley was fighting a losing battle against crying. “Your… your eyes…”

“I was born with complete heterochromia, which is when one iris is a different color than the other.” Ford drawled with a slow nod, steadily inching closer until he could gently curl his fingers around one of Stanley’s calves. Ford could already tell that Stanley was malnourished, there was hardly any padding on him. “One brown, one blue.”

“I… forgot. How could I forget?” Stanley choked out, a flood of tears cascading down his sunken cheeks. Ford rose up onto his haunches, his hand sliding up to the back of Stanley’s knee. It buckled under the light touch and Ford suddenly found himself with a lapful of Stanley, who was outright sobbing as he clung to Ford with a desperation that he mirrored.

“It’s okay, I forget important things too.” Ford assured with a surety that rattled him, though he pushed the sense of unease to the back of his mind to deal with later. Instead, one of Ford’s hands carefully reached up to cup Stanley’s face, thumb tenderly wiping his damp cheek. It was a futile effort, but doing nothing made Ford’s chest feel like it was caving in.

“I leave him in your capable hands.” The helmeted man droned, crouching to set a large medkit onto the ground beside Ford’s knee before turning to step off the porch and walk into a vortex of swirling light. It snapped closed behind him, leaving Ford to fend for himself. Fortunately, his instincts actually seemed to be helpful for once. He usually fumbled his way through social interactions, but this was both familiar and effortless.

It was like his entire world had suddenly just righted itself.