#plastic storage boxes with lids

[harshimpex]

We manufacture premium-grade confectionery containers, which are widely used by companies storing cookies, chocolates, and other edible items. From candy jars to confectionery items, we manufacture the best-quality plastic jars for all confectionery products.

[hhouseware-blog]

[honglaichuang-blog]

[hhouseware]

[bunnyinvanilla]

Sugar daddy!price x fem!reader (bar owner series)

🎂 warnings: suggestive at the end, minors dni please, laaaarge age gap (price is in his 40s and reader is 21) <3

if price found out you haven’t been eating since breakfast this morning and are currently starving, he’d be mad. Not at you, but for you. so, like a sweet, good little girl that wished not to burden him with concern, you rush behind the counter, to the back storage room next to his office — a quick snack, that’s what you’re going to indulge into.

your hands carefully dig into your backpack, and as you take out the piece of strawberry shortcake you bought on the way back from college, you make a little hop on the spot — barely able to contain excitement.

your fingers work hastily to remove the paper and plastic from the box, and the scent of sweet, sugary whipped cream and strawberries fill your nose. You smile to yourself as you gather some whipped cream with your finger and bring it your lips.

you scarcely contain a silent moan when the sugar melts in your mouth like a cloud of sweetness, as if heaven itself decided to reveal its secrets.

“gosh it’s so good” you murmur, bringing another whitened finger to your lips, mouth already half filled with the previous bite.

“oh you are indeed”

you startle in your own tracks when you hear the low, deep voice from behind you, like a little bunny getting caught feasting on a farmer’s carrot land.

turning towards the door, you find john, his imposing, muscular figure looking down at you with his signature lazy, amused smirk. Your eyes fall on his flannel shirt, the first buttons are languidly left untied, allowing you a stolen glance of his hairy chest, his pectorals that make your mouth water as much as the long forgotten piece of cake in your hands.

dumbfounded, you blink up at him twice, swallowing down the remaining mushy cake you stopped chewing on upon seeing him. Your cheeks grow red, sunrise reflecting on them with how bright and warm they look.

“Sir, uhm…i was, i was-“ you struggle to compose yourself, lowering your hands as he slowly begins to strade over you, the familiar scent of cologne and tobacco mingling with your vanilla perfume.

“hungry? can see that, angel,” he whispers, clearly entertained by your shyness. A lazy, seductive smile appears on his visage like a natural decor, one you’ve never seen him not wearing since meeting you.

once he’s close enough to tower over you, his graying, dark beard catches your attention, his mustache and salt and pepper hair, the way the muscles of his hairy forearms bulge with every move, everything about him screams strong masculinity, control and dominance.

he lifts up a hand towards your face, and you hold your breath as he uses his calloused thumb to wipe some whipped cream off the corner of your glossed lips. He brings the digit to his own mouth, licking the cream off his finger — the sight makes the pit of your stomach twist, a warm knot tightens in your belly and roots all the way down between your thighs.

you have to slowly place the cake down on a nearby surface otherwise you’d make it drop.

he licks his mustache, his sharp, intense eyes fleck to you, studying silently and carefully every single reaction he could get and read off you, “it does taste good though doll, you’re right,”

his voice deepens, a baritone that sounds gruff and heavy, and you involuntarily hide your hands behind your back, gently holding onto the edge od the table. With a slow, deliberate movement, he brings his licked finger down, underneath your skirt, and presses it against your clothed clit.

as if a spark shot through you, you almost squeak, a muffled whimper leaves your lips, an unfamiliar sound that your own ears don’t recognize. He keeps his eyes on you, lid and thin, as he slowly brushes it over your panties,

“but I’m sure when I finally get a taste of you, you’ll taste even sweeter” his words sound like a growl, an impatient promise.

he knows you’re a sweet, young, inexperienced, untouched girl, and as much as he was a gentleman, as much as he wanted to handle you cautiously, like a porcelain doll that could break in a heartbeat and needed the best care and attention, he almost took you right there when you gave him those doe, shy eyes.

“I know you’re impatient, sweet girl, but daddy will make it worth the wait”, he thinks you deserve more that a stolen moment in the midst of the chaos, of a working day, and he knows you want him to be rough, to be hard on you. “let daddy take you out to dinner tonight, and then you can give this old man some sugar, mmh?”

you can only nod, words stuck in your throat unable to come out, but your eyes gleam in the softest and most innocent way, you don’t know if you want to drop to your knees, and beg him to do whatever he wanted, or to grab your piece of cake back and hide behind the counter.

bunnies were shy creatures, eager for affection, love and attention but timid when under their owners’ loving gaze. If you weren’t careful, they might just hop away and hide shyly.

..but a little bunny like you needs to be trained into being the perfect, sweetest good girl first. And he is a man of discipline, he knows how to wait.

[buddie-buddie]

Tommy stands in the middle of Evan’s loft, hands on his hips, trying— and failing— to suppress the grin tugging at his lips as he surveys the scene before him. There’s a twelve-foot tall animatronic skeleton in the middle of the room, surrounded by black and orange storage bins stacked with military precision, each meticulously labeled. Currently, Tommy’s standing beside a box labeled INDOOR COBWEBS (WHITE)– not to be confused with INDOOR SPIDERWEBS (WHITE)–and blinking up at the gigantic skeleton in front of him.

“His name is Napoleon,” Evan had said earlier, beaming like a proud parent. “Napoleon Bone-parte.”

It was only a few minutes ago that Tommy had woken up from a post-shift nap to find Evan’s bed much emptier than it had been when he’d closed his eyes a few hours before. When he had fallen asleep, Evan had been right there beside him, curled up against Tommy’s chest, his warmth seeping into Tommy’s skin as they both drifted off, exhausted from their shifts. The steady rise and fall of Evan’s chest against his own had been the last thing Tommy remembered before sleep claimed him.

He had woken up with a quiet groan, shifting slightly as his hand reached instinctively for the empty space beside him. The emptiness beside him felt wrong. Tommy had gotten so used to waking up with Evan’s beside him, Evan's arm draped over his waist, the feel of his feet nudging against Tommy’s under the sheets. Tommy loved those moments, the quiet intimacy that lived in the heartbeats between sleep and wakefulness. 

Tommy had shifted again, blinking sleepily at the cold, empty space beside him. A small frown tugged at his lips as he glanced around Evan’s bedroom, searching for some sign of him. But the silence was deafening, his absence was palpable, and the warmth that usually lingered when Evan left the bed had long since dissipated.

His absence was quickly explained when Tommy got out of bed and glanced over the railing of the loft and found himself face to face with Napoleon, standing tall in the middle of the living room like a bony, skeletal sentinel. 

Tommy’s pretty sure it’s the closest he’s ever been to a heart attack. 

Once his heart came back online and Evan finally stopped laughing, Tommy made his way downstairs, where he was formally introduced to Napoleon. 

Napoleon, who Evan had hauled out of the storage closet on his balcony while Tommy was still sleeping, along with thirteen (yes, Tommy counted) storage bins of varying sizes, each with its own overly descriptive label on the side, written in Evan’s handwriting. 

And if those labels weren’t enough, there’s also a print out of an itemized list of the box’s contents taped to each lid. And Evan does not have a printer, which means he either used the one in Bobby’s office or paid to have it all printed at Staples, and Tommy can’t decide which he loves more.  

Evan stands in front of SKELETONS - FULL BODY ONLY, clipboard in hand, looking far too serious for someone staring into a box of plastic skeletons.

“Baby,” Tommy says, eyes flicking between Evan and the clipboard in his hand. “You sure we’re decorating for Halloween and not planning a military operation?”

The way Evan approaches Halloween— with the precision of a general preparing for battle and a checklist to match— is equal parts ridiculous and charming, and Tommy can’t help but poke fun. “Looks like you’ve got the tactical breakdown of a covert mission here.”

Evan glances up, eyebrows raised, his expression hovering between amusement and mock seriousness. “Hey, Halloween is a big deal,” he says, tapping the clipboard with a smirk that makes Tommy’s heart squeeze a little. “Besides, this is fun.”

There’s something endearing about the way Evan’s taking this so seriously, and Tommy can’t resist teasing him just a little more. “Ah, yes,” he says dryly. “Nothing says fun like a color-coded checklist.”  

Evan shoots him a sidelong look, his lips twitching upward. “I’ll have you know this checklist is the product of years of trial and error.”  

Tommy huffs a laugh, crossing his arms as he watches Evan move around the bins. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”  

He leans against the counter, his eyes following Evan as he moves with a kind of focused intensity that’s impossible not to admire.

Evan sets the clipboard down, opening another bin with precise care, as if the entire operation depends on getting every cobweb and plastic spider just right. “Well, if we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right. That’s the rule.”

Tommy smirks. “Your rule, you mean.”

“The only rule that matters.” Evan doesn’t look up from where he’s pulling a candle from one of the bins– with far more care than a $8 pumpkin spice candle from HomeGoods might otherwise call for. 

Tommy watches as he places it on the kitchen island, replacing the one that usually sits beside the utensil crock in the middle of the granite. Once satisfied with its placement, he picks the clipboard back up and scribbles a checkmark with a quiet swoosh of his pen. 

Tommy steps closer, the warmth of Evan’s presence drawing him in effortlessly. He glances at the clipboard over Evan’s shoulder, leaning in just enough to catch the scent of Evan’s aftershave. “Is there a section on proper cobweb placement?”  

Without missing a beat, Evan flips to the next page. “Of course there is. Indoor or outdoor?”  

“Indoor?” Tommy plays along, enjoying the rhythm they’ve fallen into, where teasing meets affection and everything just clicks.

Evan grabs a bin from the stack and pulls its lid off with a flourish, revealing enough fake cobwebs to cover Dracula’s mansion twice over. Certainly far more than his 1100-square foot loft could ever possibly need. Tommy raises an eyebrow, glancing at the bin like it might bite him. “You know, some people just throw some fake spiders in a corner and call it a day.”

“Amateurs, maybe.” Evan’s response is quick, but there’s a lightness in his voice, like he knows Tommy’s teasing but he doesn’t mind. There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he starts unpacking the cobwebs with meticulous care, completely unfazed.

“You’re going to cobweb this place like it’s the set of a horror movie, aren’t you?”

“No,” Evan glances up, not missing a beat. “We’re going to cobweb this place like it’s the set of a horror movie.”

Tommy salutes. “Yes, sir.” 

His fondness for Evan only grows as he watches him unroll the cobwebs with precision, like he’s handling some delicate operation rather than Halloween decor. Every move Evan makes is thoughtful, intentional. And while Tommy’s had his fun teasing him for how fastidious he is with all of this, here’s something about it that’s so Evan. And Tommy loves it. 

There’s a lightness in the air as they move around each other, their small touches— Evan’s hand grazing Tommy’s arm as he moves past him, their shoulders knocking as they reach into the bin at the same time— it’s natural and unspoken, like they’ve been doing this forever. It’s a rhythm they’ve fallen into without even realizing it, the ease of being close, of sharing the space between them without any fuss.

Tommy reaches out without thinking, keeping the bin steady as Evan leans in to grab another tangled stretch of cobwebs, and Evan’s fingers brush against Tommy’s wrist, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Neither of them acknowledges it, but the quiet intimacy lingers between them, woven into the banter and the easy smiles.

It’s the kind of comfort that makes everything feel lighter, like decorating for Halloween is just another excuse to be close. And maybe it is. 

But Tommy certainly isn’t complaining.

“Spooky season only comes once a year,” Evan says, still fussing with the cobwebs. “Gotta make it count.”

Tommy leans in a little closer, eyes twinkling with amusement as he surveys the growing web of decor. “Oh, I’m counting alright. Counting how many fake spiders it’s gonna take before we’re overrun.” 

Evan shoots him a playful glare, the kind that makes Tommy’s chest warm. “Just wait. You’ll appreciate it once the ambiance is perfect.”  

Tommy chuckles, stepping back to give Evan space as he arranges another set of cobwebs. He folds his arms, leaning against the counter with a soft grin.

It’s more than just amusement, seeing Evan so focused and so serious about this. It’s fondness, plain and simple, for the way Evan throws himself into things, for the way he never does anything in halves. Doesn’t matter if it’s fighting fires or figuring out who he is or hanging polyester cobwebs from the banister with a surgeon’s precision under the watchful eye of his 12-foot skeleton. Evan pours every bit of himself into it, gives it his all. 

Tommy watches him in quiet admiration, the way Evan’s brow furrows slightly as he steps back to assess the web placement, then leans forward again to make the tiniest adjustment. It’s that attention to detail, that determination to perfect even the smallest task, that makes Tommy’s heart feel a little fuller. It’s something he admires about Evan— the intensity with which he lives his life, the way he tackles everything head-on.

And it’s not just the decorations. It’s the way Evan approaches everything he does with a sense of purpose and care. It’s the kind of energy Tommy didn’t know he needed until Evan came into his life. 

There’s a comfort in it, in knowing that when Evan commits, he does it wholeheartedly. It makes Tommy’s chest swell, his heart skip, this quiet admiration settling into something deeper, something he hasn’t fully put into words yet.

“Yeah,” Tommy says quietly, his grin softening as he watches Evan step back to admire his handiwork, tilting his head as he studies the cobwebs with a critical eye. “I’m already appreciating it.”  

Evan looks over at him, catching the expression on Tommy’s face, and for a moment the teasing fades into something quieter, warmer. Evan’s lips quirk up in a small, knowing smile, and Tommy feels that familiar warmth settle into his chest, deeper and more certain than before. It’s the kind of warmth that makes the world outside seem distant, like it’s just the two of them in this space they’ve built together.

Evan steps closer, the clipboard forgotten as he reaches out to rest a hand on Tommy’s arm, fingers curling lightly around his sleeve. “You sure it’s the ambiance you’re appreciating?” he teases, but his voice is softer now, the humor laced with affection.

Tommy chuckles, his eyes never leaving Evan’s. “Maybe it’s the cobwebs,” he murmurs, stepping in until they’re just a breath apart. 

“Maybe it’s Napoleon,” Evan hums, glancing at the towering skeleton behind them.

“Or maybe,” Tommy says, his voice dropping, “it’s the guy who’s way too serious about cobweb placement.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

Tommy grins. “The same one who named his 12-foot skeleton after the Emperor of France.”

“Emperor of the French,” Evan corrects.

Tommy blinks. “Isn’t that… the same thing?”

“Not exactly,” Evan says, eyes bright, his entire face lighting up in that way it always does when he’s gearing up to share a fact. Tommy watches fondly as Evan’s hands start gesturing, his excitement spilling into every word. 

“‘Emperor of the French’ was a title Napoleon took to imply he ruled over people, not just the territory of France,” Evan continues, his voice picking up speed as he dives into the explanation. 

Tommy can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as he listens. He’s heard Evan go off on tangents like this countless times, but it never gets old. The way Evan’s whole body seems to come alive when he’s in his element, the way he talks like he’s letting Tommy in on a secret— it makes Tommy feel like the luckiest guy in the world. For more reasons than one.

“He wanted it to be known that his power came from the will of the people, rather than just the land itself. It was a deliberate political move.”

Tommy stares at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. “So… you named your Halloween skeleton after a guy who was really into branding?”

“Our skeleton now,” Evan corrects, his voice firm but playful. “And yes, yes I did.”

Tommy blinks, momentarily caught off guard. The word our hangs in the air, settling in his chest in a way that’s both silly and surprisingly meaningful. It’s just a Halloween decoration— a ridiculously oversized plastic skeleton, for crying out loud— but hearing Evan claim it as theirs sends a warmth through him that’s hard to shake.

“Mhmmm,” Tommy hums. “Let me rephrase, then: The same one who named his 12-foot skeleton after the Emperor of the French.”

“Hmm, still not sure I know who you’re talking about,” Evan teases.

“The guy who has a designated Halloween clipboard,” Tommy says, nodding towards where Evan’s orange clipboard sits on the kitchen counter. “And a color-coded checklist.”

Evan huffs a laugh, but there’s no denying the way he leans in, his hand sliding up to rest on the back of Tommy’s neck. “Well,” he says, his voice quieter now. “If it works, it works.”

And in this moment— cobwebs half-strung, decorations still scattered around them, Napoleon's LED eyes staring daggers straight through him— Tommy knows it does work. Not just the decorations, not just the ambiance, but them.

He dips his head, brushing his lips softly against Evan’s, gentle and unhurried. When Evan kisses him back, Tommy feels it— a spark of something deeper, a quiet current that hums between them, binding them in a way that words never could. It’s as if everything unspoken, everything growing beneath the surface of their teasing and banter, is laid bare. The kiss is slow, deliberate, filled with a tenderness that leaves no room for doubt. It’s not just desire thrumming between them— it’s affection, warmth, the promise of something real.

Evan leans in closer, his lips warm and soft against Tommy’s, the kind of kiss that speaks more than words ever could. It’s patient, unhurried— as if they both know there’s no need to rush this thing unfolding between them. Tommy’s heart beats a little faster, but it’s not from nerves— it’s from the quiet certainty that with every touch, every shared breath, he’s falling more and more for Evan, further and further past the point of no return. 

Evan’s hand lingers on the back of Tommy’s neck, his fingers threading gently through his hair, and his thumb brushing lightly against Tommy’s skin in a way that's equal parts grounding and electric. There’s no urgency, no rush— just the two of them, cocooned in a moment that feels like it belongs to them alone.

It's a moment he could live in forever.

It’s a kiss filled with quiet promises, the kind that tell Tommy that whatever this is, whatever they are, it’s real. It’s steady and strong, something he can trust, something that’s only just beginning but feels like it’s always been there, waiting for them to find it.

It’s real. And it’s easy. 

And, much like the giant skeleton towering over them, it’s theirs.

also on ao3

[winter-leftovers]

Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter fifteen: Homecoming (15/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Y/n finds a new connection to her past. Jim comes back

Word count: 2200

Warnings: daddy issues!!!!! dw douxie is there!! Also my dyslexia was insane this week so maybe some mistakes?

(Episodes Season 2 Episode 4,5,6 )

Song?: You’re on your own, kid by Taylor Swift

Previous - Next

Masterlist

Y/n rubbed her eyes. She had spent the last twelve hours reading all of Blinky’s books about Camelot. Her search had started with The Pale Lady but there weren't many books about her.

She wondered what connection she had to Camelot. She remembered when Alfred let slip out that she had a connection with Merlin. But what bothered her the most was, if she was connected to the kingdom, why wasn’t any of the books helping her remember? Was the spell that strong? Maybe trollish books weren’t the ones she needed to read. Maybe she needed to go to human books.

Y/n got into her car and started driving, maybe if the traffic wasn’t bad enough she could stop by the library before work. She looked at the clock.

“Fuzz..” she whispered. She was late. She ran out the car into the store “sorry…sorry”

“Good morning” greeted the man behind the desk.

Y/n took a step back and looked around. She wasn’t at the store, she wasn’t anywhere she recognised.

“Good morning” she said back.

“Oh. I know you. You’re Y/n. Right?” The man smiled. He looked older than Barbara.

“Yes” she returned the smile. She had never been to this place before.

“Wow. You look incredible” the man laughed. He seemed honest.

“Thank you?” Y/n walked to the desk.

“I guess you’re coming to check your stuff” the man turned to the computer.

“Uh?”

“You came for your storage? Right?”

“Oh, yes. Right” She nodded.

“Okay. Follow me” the man opened a door next to the desk and started to walk along a maze of storage units

Y/n didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t sure how she got there. She was sure she had driven to the store, that she had made the right turns. She looked around. This didn’t seem like a dream. She remembers waking up, beside all her dreams seem to be set in the past and this one is clearly in the present.

“This is 555, Ambrosius, Y/n”

‘Ambrosius?’ She thought. The name brought a burn to her chest.

“Thank you” she smiled.

“You’re welcome” the man smiled back and returned to his desk.

Y/n looked down at the lock. She didn’t have a key. She didn’t even know if she really was Y/n Ambrosius. She sighed and closed her hand on the lock, a small puff of red smoke appeared opening the lock. The unit was small, there wasn’t much inside: a couple boxes taped shut, a coat rack covered by a plastic bag and in the middle, there was the only thing that seemed not to be touched by the dust, a long wooden box

Y/n looked side to side and kneeled next to the box. She inspected the box, with her fingers traced the golden details. She touched the place where the lock should be and the lid lifted. Y/n looked over her shoulders and turned back to the box and opened it. A warm light blinded her. She took both her hands to shield her eyes. The light quickly died down and she was able to put her hands down and to see what was inside the box.

Inside, there was a staff that appeared to be made of dark iron detailed with red stones, with a big red gem on one end and sharp point on the other.

“Wow” she whispered.

She stretched her hand to lift it but the staff light up and lifted itself from the box.

“Oh god. Oh god Oh god” said to herself as she looked back to the door. Praying no one would see her.

The staff flew from the middle of the room to Y/n’s wrist, shrinking itself into a modest bracelet. Y/n stared at her wrist for a couple of minutes in awe. She couldn’t believe what just happened.

Y/n spent her whole day observing her wrist, the bracelet had settled comfortably on her arm but her eyes would constantly drift back to it, scared that her bracelet would turn back into a staff in the most inconvenient time.

She played with her new accessory as she walked down the stairs of TrollMarket.

“Home is the same, school is the same, TrollMarket is the same” Jim's voice resonated through the stands.

“Jim?” Y/n screamed, pushing all of the trolls out of her way until she had her brother in front of him.

“Y/n?”

She laughed. It really was him.

They ran into each other, hugging themselves tighter, scared the other would disappear again.

“I can believe you’re okay” she said into the embrace.

“Me neither” he chuckled.

“Don’t ever do that again” she let go just enough so she could see his face and hug him again.

“Stinking, horrible, traitor” Blinky screamed.

The four of them ran to the library to aid the troll.

“Blinky?” Called Jim

“What are you doing?” Asked Claire

The troll was stacking all his books and burning them.

“You love your books! This isn’t like you” screamed Toby, grabbing his head.

“Aaarrrgghh?” Y/n ran to the troll and hugged him tight “you’re alive?”

Aaarrrgghh sniffed her hair “Forget me nots” he smiled.

“What?” She chuckled.

“Not my books! I’m destroying anything that bear my traitorous brother’s name” Blinky threw another stack of books to the fire “Full of lies” he screamed looking at the fire “My gumm-gumm brother cannot be trusted and neither can these!” He threw another book to the fire.

“Gumm-gumm? What are you talking about?” Y/n frowned. She was confused. Blinky loved his brother.

“Blink!” Jim ran to the bonfire and started to take the books out “but they’ve been useful before, so they can be useful again

“Aren’t you gonna stop him, wingmam?” Toby giggled as Aaarrrgghh sniffled him “Uh, what’s with Aaarrrgghh?” He ask as the troll wouldn’t stop.

“Leave him. Ever since he’s returned from death his sense of smell has been curiously heightened. He’s been sniffing everything for hours” Blinky said uninterestedly as he kept throwing more books into the fire.

“What?!” Y/n ask. Time would pass and no one would explain anything to her. How did Jim come back from the Darklands? What happened with Blinky’s dead brother? And how did Aaarrgghh come back from the dead?

“Mmmmh you had italian” the troll stated and gave one more sniff “Carbonara”

“Yeah, like three days ago” Toby smiled.

“Enough” Y/n said to herself. With a quick movement of her arm she put out the fire and turned to the teenagers and the troll, leaving Blinky fighting with his books in the background.

“Cool” whispered Toby.

“You are going to sit down and explain to me what happened” Y/n cross her arms.

The three teens looked at eachother. Jim put down the bucket of water and sat down next to his friends.

“Toby?” Y/n took a step forward and crouched down putting her face as close as she could “what. are. you. hiding. from. me?”

Toby looked everywhere except at Y/n’s face, he was terrified. He felt the sweat travel through his body. He couldn’t hold on for much longer.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’m really sorry!!” Toby broke. He started to scream making Y/n take a couple of steps back “It was all so confusing. Kanji-Aaarrrgghh opened the bridge so we could rescue Jim and Vendel said no and I was out of nugat nummies. I swear I didn’t mean to break your guitar in second grade. It was an accident” he kneeled down and grabbed her shirt.

“That’s…a lot” Y/n petted Toby’s head.

“We should have told you about the plan” said Claire.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad we are safe” Y/n smiled and pulled Toby’s hair “You broke my guitar?”

“Oi oi, it was an accident” he screams as he triess to pulls Y/n’s hand away.

“Talk to Jim yet?” Asked Aaarrrgghh.

Y/n and Toby turned to the now pile of ash and books to see Jim who had escaped to try to rescue the books that survived Blinky’s wrath while Y/n and Toby settled an old dispute.

“He says he hasn’t found the right time” said Claire.

“It’s not just me, right? Ever since he got back, he’s acting super weird” said Toby.

“Can you blame him?” Said Y/n.

“Hey, guy, you know what we need? A calling!” Jim turned “I’m sure there’s been tons of stuff pilling up for us to take care of now that I’m back. Uh, a curse box or a loose monster troll, huh?”

“Actually, Claire and I kinda took care of that stuff while you were gone” said Toby.

“What about some training? It’d be good for us to get back in the Forge and…”

“I smell Usurna” Aaarrrgghh interrupted.

“Oh dear” Blinky stopped his angry rant to see two gigantic troll enter the library followed by Usurna and Vendel

“So…It’s true. The human trollhunter has returned from his frolic in the Darklands” Usurna says.

“The human trollhunter humbly apologizes and throws himself at the mercy of the Troll Tribunal” Blinky bows.

“Tribunal?” Jim turns to Blinky.

Blinky hit him in the side.

“The tribunal has already voted on your fate” Usurna remembers.

Y/n rolls her eyes.

“And, by the barest of margins has ruled to dropped all charges so long as you cooperate from this moment forth” Vendel steps forward.

Everyone sighes in relief.

“Your rash choice to save one child put all of TrollMarket at risk. If any evil had been unleashed unto this world, the blood would have been on your hands” Usurna took a step forward to Jim.

Y/n grabbed her brother by the arm and pushed him back a little so Usurna’s finger wouldn’t touch him.

Before leaving she turned:

“Are you sure nothing followed you on your return?”

“Draal never left his post guarding the bridge” exclaimed Blinky but Y/n didn’t see her friends so convinced.

“Are the Krubera really staying permanently?” Asked Blinky once Usurna left. He was annoyed as Y/n.

“Usurna feels their presence is required in light of my questionable judgment” Vendel turned as his new staff got tangled in the light “Speaking of such, have you made any progress in tracking down the culprit who stole my staff?”

“We will not rest until we bring them to justice” said Blinky.

“Yes, of course. I’m sure whoever took it had a good reason and will return it as soon as possible. I’ve put my neck out far enough for you ungrateful fools any further, and she’ll be sure to lop my head right off” he finally was able to get his staff free.

“Thank you, Vendel. It’s good to see you, too” said Jim.

“Yes, well, if you want to thank me, go look into the goblin mess that one of our trolls discovered on a salvage run”

“Goblin mess?” Toby repeated.

“There appears to be some droppings in a dumpster behind the Arcadia Cinema” Vendel explained.

“Goblins? we haven’t seen any of those in months” Claire said.

“Oh my gosh! Is this a call? Like, a good old trollhunting mission?” Jim was excited.

“Just go” Vendel got his staff tangled in his horn.

“Vendel, could I have a word with you? Something ha…” Y/n took a step forward and helped the troll with his staff.

“Can this wait? I’m too busy today” the troll disappeared through the door leaving Y/n along, the trollhunter team long gone.

“It’s okay” she said to an empty room. Her hand playing with her bracelet. The ashy smell takes her back to an old familiar place she doesn’t want to go.

Y/n walked out of TrollMarket in silence.

“Not now, Y/n. Can’t you see I’m busy?” the voice of a man she knows so well yet doesn’t, stabs her heart.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry” she repeats like she could be forgiven for the cardinal sin of asking for the attention of a loved one.

She keeps walking and the memory of the man standing in front of a window won’t get out of her mind. His back to her and the desperation of her hands to grab his.

“That’s lovely, birdie, but why don’t you go find that friend of yours and show him? Huh?” The man asks without taking his eyes from his work.

Y/n looks down at her hands and wonders what's so wrong with them.

The bell chimes.

“Y/n? Darling? What happened? Why are you crying?” Douxie jumped from his seat at the register and went to the door.

“Huh?” Y/n looked around. She wasn’t in TrollMarket anymore, she was in Douxie’s library “I don’t…” she took her hand to her cheeks, they were wet. She had been crying.

“Did someone do something? Are you hurt?” Douxie grabbed her head and with his thumbs wiped away the tears.

“No. I just… I think my father was kinda of a complicated asshole” Y/n hugged him, hiding her head in his chest.

Douxie chuckled and hugged her back “Yeah, I understand”

A/n: the mood at the end was: ‘hey dad i exist!’ because that was my mood honestly

[dollsonmain]

hahah yay

I need MORE plants to be more like my IRL house (just not any dead ones.... >.>)

Still closes just fine. I didn't secure the plants in at all and didn't even open the "dirt" bag. I'm not sure how well that would age and if it might ruin stuff over time.

Need more stuff for the fireplace room. I have more candles but I don't want them all the same height. I'll keep looking for little stands and things to put them on.

Instead of doing the candle activity I dumped all of the scented pellets into the nubbly jar and taped the lid on so they don't spill.

Put the twine from the terrarium set with the other crafting stuff.

Need more crafting stuff.

Hey, MGA, I need a plastic bin full of embroidery floss in 1/6th scale pls.

And lots of paint.

hehehehehehe

I think I should put some of the Mini Brands shelving in this crib cubby and use it as "storage".

Double sided tape does NOT want to stick to those boxes...

[shannonpurdyjones]

*flashes bat signal* Help me writers of tumblr!

A word I need has completely left my brain.

What would you call the wooden storage bins in an old root cellar or larder? Not baskets, more like the rectangular open topped or lidded wooden boxes for like storing apples or potatoes over winter?

I KNOW there is a specific word for this and I'm SO ANNOYED it's eluding me. Google is predictably just showing ads for plastic storage bins and so is no help.

Thank you in advance for your help!!

[jiffey]

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[seven-meds]

Marbles Qs (unsure if this has been asked before): How do you store and take care of your marbles? Do you keep them in a nice box or a display case?

Good question! Marble storage becomes tricky as your collection grows. At the moment I keep most of my marbles in a box, either wrapped individually in bubble wrap or held in very small plastic containers. I do have a glass-lidded display case for about 45 of my favorites that sits on my dresser along with some of the more artisanal marbles which I keep on stands (essentially small plastic donuts that they rest on) and some marble oddities like pieces of cullet.

Here is the display case with the lid off. You can see all the oxbloods are in there as well as the double ingots and furnace marbles. There are also some things like corkscrews and swirls with interesting colors and marbles that aren't particularly valuable but hold personal importance.

[honglaichuang-blog]

[hhouseware]

[desertdollranch]

Hello! I have a dilemma and am wondering if you or your followers might have any tips. I’m entering a phase of my life where I don’t have space to display my AG dolls or their clothes, but am not prepared to part with them. Do you have any advice regarding the best storage solutions for keeping a collection in good condition (without paying a fortune)?

If it helps, there are 11 of them, with the oldest being about 16 years old. I sadly don’t have any of their original boxes, though I do have some for clothes/accessories.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays to you and your dolls!

Hi! I do indeed have a solution for you. I recommend buying a few large plastic storage totes with lids and storing your dolls in those. Here's an example of what they look like.

Here's where to buy them online from Home Depot. They're a little over $12 apiece, but you can also find them at Walmart and Target for a few bucks cheaper.

The reasons why I recommend these:

They are airtight and watertight, so they're protected from dust, mold, and humidity

The tightly sealed lids protect against rodents and bugs

Hard plastic top, bottom, and sides mean the totes cannot be easily crushed by boxes stacked on top

Clear plastic helps you easily identify the contents; if you opt for an opaque container, you can put a label on it

Portable and easy to carry around

If this is the option you choose, then I recommend storing the dolls unclothed in order to avoid dye transfer from their clothes to their vinyl skin, which can happen with long exposure to dyed fabric. This is especially risky if they're stored in a humid location. If that's the case, I recommend storing an open container of baking soda (cover it with a paper towel and secure with a rubber band), or silica gel pellets, in the plastic tote. That will suck up any moisture in the air and direct it away from your dolls.

Use another separate tote to store doll clothes. If you have even a small amount of wool clothing, definitely store a moth deterrent with the clothes. Strong-smelling herbs like lavender, rosemary, and cloves will keep moths and other insects away, as will cedar chips.

[subterraneanna]

hi 😊 can I ask you how do you usually store your film frames/slides? Someone gifted me one from the Lincoln ent. and I have no idea how not to cause even more damage to it!

Hi! That's a great gift and I'm glad you want to take care of it! To protect it from dust, dirt, and scratches, you have a few options:

*Slide storage box: a long, lidded paperboard box just wide enough to hold slides upright. This is probably a bit much if you only have one slide. 

*Slide storage album page: a plastic sheet that holds multiple slides and can be inserted into a binder or photo album.

*Individual slide sleeve: a tiny, single slide-sized plastic envelope that you can store in a small cardboard box.

If you can't find any of these, a regular acid-free photo album or document sleeve should keep things dust-free. However, movement in a larger envelope may cause unwanted friction, and the slide may be more apt to fall out, so handle with care. These options are acid-free and allow for a little air movement, which is important because trapped humidity in an airtight container can accelerate film decay. Once you have your slide in a sleeve or box, you'll want to store it in a stable environment away from light, heat, or high humidity. Often, the best place is a closet on your living area level. Avoid basements and attics where temperature and humidity fluctuate wildly. And as always, the sooner you scan your slide, the better!