#scissors x sandpaper

[starfishsonny]

thinking about how scissors throws up basically whenever sandpapers around…..hmmmm that sounds a little bit familiar guys..

[jillibean06]

guess who ships these two? :3

(Spoilers: ITS MEEE!!!

[bensonsrandy]

this is for a very VERY small target audience but i wanted to let the rock paper scissors cartoon enjoyers know i recently i finally finished my papercut fic!!

rating: explicit | archive warning: no archive warnings apply | category: M/M

relationships: Scissors/Paper, Sandpaper/Pencil, Rock & Paper & Scissors

word count: 9.3k, 2/2 chapters :)

notable tags: human AU, there was only one bed, intricate rituals, etc…

it was so fun to write, i hope yall like it!😭

[snakeeeater]

hey man, nice shot

[dante sparda x gn werewolf!reader] -> prologue

PLEASE READ:

★ This is DMC5 Dante!!

★ This is borderline crack right now but will develop a bit more bear with me fellas

★ That’s all! Enjoy this wacky woohoo garbage

So, you’re fucked.

That’s what you’re thinking when the uglyass pyrobat you’re stalking breaks through the roof of a warehouse on Seventh. The building’s got these hellish glowing red lights pulsating from the cracks forming in its dilapidated state, and suddenly your M1911s and dearly beloved 14 Randall don’t feel sufficient.

You’re thankful for the rain and overcast sky tonight, because it masks your footsteps and softens your shadow’s mark against the ground as you slowly approach the place. The hood of your sweatshirt is soaked through— you thought about putting on your windbreaker earlier to stay dry and warm, but the plastic-y sounds it made when you moved would certainly gain unwanted attention from the demon you were stalking.

You shift one of the straps of your holsters before crouching by the window. Your knees crack. You press your back to the wall for a moment. 

Okay.

Now that you’re this close you can tell that there’s definitely some sort of demonic ritual going on inside from what you hear— voices that sound like sandpaper speak in an overlapping chatter. You strain your ears. There’s the sound of magic sparking and the sound of something… squishy? It sounds like someone being sliced in a horror movie.

You shudder at the implications of that sound, but keep your mouth shut.

When hearing doesn’t yield any more ideas, you turn on your heels. The rubber soles of your combat boots grind the gravel under your feet a little too loudly and you freeze. A fearful eye of yours shoots up to see if the demons heard anything.

A second passes.

Another.

You seem to be safe… for now.

You decide against sticking your head over the windowsill and opt to put an eye to one of the holes in the walls. You squint through the hazy red filling the room.

And your blood runs ice cold.

A cross levitates in the center of the empty warehouse and a naked woman hangs upside down from it, spinning slowly. She’s been brutally ripped open and you’re sure all her blood was used in making the markings on the floor that you’re failing to interpret. Her— oh god, you want to vomit— her organs are organized in messy piles in what you assume are the cardinal directions.

In a fleeting attempt to tear your eyes away from that disgusting scene, you decide take in the demons. 

You see three bowing Hell Caina, a triad of pyrobats circling the ceiling, the shadows of three Death Scissors, three massive Proto Angelo heading Scudo Angelo units of three, and at the center of it all, three goddamn Lusachia which were doing all the raspy chanting you hear.

You turn around, pressing your back to the wall. 

The number three seems to be important to this ritual. You’d have to tell Morrison.

“Shit.” You press the heels of your palms to your eye sockets.

You almost laugh.

If you got back to Morrison from here.

Sure, you weren’t human anymore. Sure, you were legally dead, so it wouldn’t really matter if you were crushed like a grape. And sure, you survived a freak werewolf attack.

But after dying, being buried, transforming during the new moon cycle, and crawling out of the ground, you still weren’t able to bust out the monster hiding underneath your skin at will.

You massaged the scarring bite wounds that had been left behind on your left shoulder. They was no longer tender, but they still looked angry as hell.

“Maybe a life-or-death situation will bring it out.” You whisper so softly you can’t hear it yourself. It worked for most fictional characters, anyway. You’re left with virtually no choice.

You position yourself at the window. 

Feeling like a stereotypical “bad boy” in a straight-to-DVD teen movie sneaking into his girlfriend’s room at night, you enter the warehouse slowly through the window. You’re not quite sure how the quiet rustling goes ignored. Plot armor, maybe.

You crouch in the shadows a stack of crates cast upon the floor and aim down the front sight of your gun, like Morrison taught you. You remember some wise words from… well, every movie you’ve ever seen featuring a person learning how to use a gun: aim where they’re headed, not where they are.

You take in a shaky breath and

BANG!

You’ve fired a shot at a pyrobat. By a miracle, you hit it and it spirals downward gracelessly, whacking itself on a Scudo Angelo’s head and twitching to death. 

The entire hellish garrison turns to face you. If this were a Marvel movie, you’d make a quippy one-liner and kick ass.

In your current situation, however, a Hell Caina shrieks at you and slices a gaping hole in your body with its scythe. You blinked, and it was tearing into your flesh like a rabid dog to a raw turkey on Thanksgiving.

Through the pity-training Morrison put you through, the two of you found out that you can tank hits because of your werewolfish condition.

But it didn’t mean you liked to do it.

“Ow.” Is your response to the Hell Caina. It’s not even a shout, it’s more of a lame, throwaway comment. Some may even smell the stench of predetermined defeat radiating off of your body.

Since you’re close enough to shoot without missing, you point your pistol at its face and use your free hand to press against your wound. When you pull the trigger, it squeals loudly and melts away.

“Too bad I’m not like the other hunters.” You mumble. The tank role in video games was pretty boring. All they did was take damage so their cooler DPS-skilled teammates could do the actual killing. And then you died if you had nobody else with you.

It fits with your general luck.

You shoot a few bullets into the air and miss every shot. You shoot a Proto Angelo. The bullet ricochets off its shield, and you almost start sobbing.

You’re stupid for doing this. You’re no hunter. You’re too old to pick it up efficiently, according to everyone else you’ve talked to about jobs. You’re probably going to die somehow— maybe these demons will overpower your uncanny healing or just send you to Hell.

“This was supposed to be easy.” You laugh because if you’re not laughing, you’d be crying.

Your guns click with the telltale sign that they’re empty now.

“Great.” You growl. You hadn’t counted on wasting so many bullets in such a short amount of time— call it wishful thinking, call it ignorance, call it a total mistake.

A pyrobat spews fire in your direction, which you somersault to the side to avoid. At least you still had that ability.

You sigh as it obviously charges up another shot of fire to spit at you. “I wish I did Krav Maga when I was a kid. Then I’d rip and tear you guys apart.”

The pyrobat is unamused by your reference to Doom, the pyrobat spits fire again. You roll out of the way again. “Or maybe I should’ve been more like a stereotypical American and started learning how to shoot young.”

You’re talking too much for someone about to die. Your head is too light for someone who wants to run away.

The revving sounds of a motorcycle round up by the entrance of the warehouse.

“And that’s probably the police.” you sigh. This was turning out to be a whole mess. Now, you’d have horrible things happen to you and civilians would also be involved.

The doors to the warehouse bust open with a loud BANG. A man with hair the color of undyed silk walks in like he owns the place and every building in a five mile radius. In his hands he carries twin pistols that look like a similar model to yours. And on his back, he carries a sword like a badass.

You immediately envy this man’s swagger. He’s clearly another one of those “I’ve been doing this since I was ten” hunters, here to clean up a mess you couldn’t even get out of unscathed.

The man clicks his tongue at the sight of the mutilated woman. “That’s unfortunate. I guess that means… it’s time to groove!” 

And the man grooves.

With a dramatic twirl of his twin pistols the man transforms into a force of nature so powerful, you swear all over that he could secretly be a demon king down in Hell. His mission? To come up here to crush the dreams and this power-boosting ritual of demon king wannabes.

Or something. Your mind gets a little carried away.

But he really is a whirlwind of carnage, seeming as though he is fused to his sword and ripping through demons like there was no tomorrow.

Correction: there is no tomorrow. Now for these pathetic pieces of Hell scum. He even laughs at one point after vanquishing all of the Death Scissors you’ve been narrowly avoiding. He drives his sword into the helmet of a Proto Angelo and it shatters with the force. He shoots a barrage of bullets into the Lusachia and it they fall dead before any even had the chance to teleport to safety.

And when he tap danced on the body of his final victim while humming a jovial tune, your jaw actually dropped.

He shoots you a look after the spectacle. “You one of them?”

The guy wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

“Uh…” you look down at your body. Nothing about you screams demon. “No. I’m human.”

The man shakes his head, like he knows you’re lying but doesn’t care enough to let you know that he knows. “Call the cops on this place after you leave, alright sweetheart? Wouldn’t want that poor lady to become another face on a milk carton.”

“Yeah.” You nod. He called me sweetheart. You think dumbly.

It’s— made evident by your immediate thoughts— been ages since you’ve been flirted with, let alone talked to someone who wasn’t Morrison.

The man turns and begins walking away. Before his silhouette disappears into the night, he raises a hand. “Ciao.”

You spot the guy with hair as white as snow again at a crosswalk while walking home a couple nights later.

It goes like this:

You were rightfully restless after your warehouse fail. Your pay from Morrison was still in full, so you had enough to splurge a little on the finer things in life, like restocking the dwindling supply of Budweisers you liked to keep handy in your fridge.

You make your way down to the closest 7-11, which happens to be a five minute walk away from your shitty new apartment. 

This area was the type you’d avoid in your old life— sketchy hoodlums loitering in alleyways, the telltale twitches of drug addicts walking by, and the accusing shouts of petty thugs getting into murderous fisticuffs. 

You are by no means a pearl-clutching socialite with a plush and stuffed trust fund, but living here as someone who didn’t have the best means of defending themselves… well, it wasn’t a good idea. The people here weren’t significantly more dangerous, but they were a hell of a lot more jumpy than other people you’d pass on the street.

However, after being bit by one of those mangy dogs of the night, you weren’t so scared of meeting the next Ted Bundy while hunting demons.

(Okay. Attempting to hunt demons.)

As Jason Dean in the cult classic movie Heathers once stated, 7-11 is consistent across all American locations and you’re inclined to agree.

Every chain location you’ve been to has looked like a front for a meth lab. Every time you push a 7-11 door open, it feels like the introductory gas station scene in the Resident Evil 2 Remake is being superimposed over your reality.

You avoid a shirtless guy who won’t stop coughing onto the chip rack and make your way to the refrigerated drinks section for your Budweiser. You grab a box of fifteen cans for about twenty dollars and make your way to the front. You flash your impeccably-crafted fake driver’s license from Morrison to the underpaid cashier who doesn’t bat an eye at its legitimacy as you slide thirty dollars over the counter. 

You almost tell her: “Keep the change, kid,” but you’re more broke than she is, so you grab the coins she’s pulled from the register.

You step outside the store and walk away from the encampment of cigarette smokers loitering by the entrance so you can place the box on the floor. You wiggle a beer can free, planning on popping it open when you get closer to home and chugging it.

You reach your first crosswalk shortly after this. 

This is where you meet the guy with hair like Danny Phantom again. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him notice you, do a little double take, look ahead again, and then get closer.

“This is probably gonna sound real cheesy,” is his opening line, complete with a suave pause. “But you look familiar.”

“Hi,” You reply, feeling your face start to flush a little at the sight of a good-looking dude. Jesus Christ. You were in need of some normal human interactions. “We were in that warehouse on Seventh a couple of days ago.”

“Ah,” the man nodded. “The one where that poor woman was kinda… turned into spaghetti.”

You nod. “That’s the one.”

“Fancy seeing your face again.” He has a flippant lilt to his voice, which makes you want to bury your face into a pillow and start giggling. Thank god it was dark out and he couldn’t see how you were awkwardly biting your bottom lip and thank god both your hands were occupied.

“So, uh… here.” You say in a genius reply, holding out the sweating can of beer meant for yourself.

The guy looks at it in your hand. “Hunh? What for?”

“Well, you, uh, helped me out with that warehouse situation so I figured…” you shrug, the inside of the can sloshing slightly with the motion. “Y’know, it’s certainly the least I could repay you with.”

“Well, thanks,” He reaches for the can and your fingers brush. He shoots you a crooked smile. “I’d love to stick around but I really gotta bounce. I’ll see you around?”

“See you.” You try to echo his coolness with your words, but it feels artificial.

This marks the moment where white hair guy crosses the street away from where you’re going so you march onward, not bothering to look back at him and thinking quite hard about it.

But when you get home, crack open a beer, and begin to watch T.V through your neighbor’s window across the street, you realize you hadn’t asked his name.

[next]

masterlist

[sporadicthingcollection]

Would You Rather...?: Part 2/2 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which you make an occupational switch, and a clown grows covetous. In other words, a different sort of romance dawn. Prequel to "Kiss, Marry, Kill." Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: General. Word Count: ~4k Warnings: Reference to past abuse, teeth, canon typical violence.

A/N: Special thanks to @lavalampskyy for helping me with a word because I had like three different thesaurus websites open and a pair of English grad students trying to help me and we came up with nuthin'.

Part 2: Entrance of the Gladiators

You go left. Luffy goes right. You reach the end of the tether and both get knocked off your feet. It’s a miracle that the lion swipes and misses. You pick Luffy up by his underarms. You both run.

A minute or two passes like this, the world’s most dangerous game of keep away. It ends when the lion pins you to the ground and gives you a long, hard lick up your body. It’s like using sandpaper as a towel.

Tipping your head back, you see the clown on his throne, sprawling and smiling and cackling at your misfortune as he twirls Luffy’s hat. An emperor in his colosseum.

You hate this fucking guy. You could get over there and punch his lights out, but that would require outrunning a lion and his “freaks,” something you doubt you could pull off tied to Luffy.

The kid in question shouts your name. "Cover your eyes!"

You do so, peeking through your fingers. He throws a handful of sand in the lion’s eyes. It roars and paws at its face, releasing you from your pin.

Luffy tugs you towards a crate and you both skid behind it. Sitting on your haunches, you catch your breath.

He gives a weak smile, only to flinch and touch his arm. Blood leaks from a ragged cut, but it doesn't look too deep.

You reach into your bag and pull out your roll of gauze, quickly wrapping him up. He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve tied off the knot before he can say a word.

“You’re really good at that,” he says.

“You're not the first guy I've patched up under fire,” you say as you rip the strip from the roll. "The lion's a new one, though." You roll up your sleeves, sliding the shackle up your arm--

Hold on. Slides? That thing was stuck fast... When it wasn't covered in sour-smelling drool. Your stomach churns, but right now, you'll take every small blessing you can get.

Luffy notices as well. With a hard yank, he slips the shackle off your wrist.

You spare a smile for him. "Try yours."

"Already did." He tugs the shackle. Nothing. "They glued me in or something."

Great. Fantastic. Now what? And what the hell is that smell? Smells like rotten eggs. Must have been the lion’s breakfast. “So what are we gonna do?”

He shrugs and smiles at you. “We’ll figure it out. Remember what I was telling you Shanks always said?”

You like this kid, but you really wanna pop him in the mouth. You can’t non-violence some sense into a lion--

Wait a tick. Mouth. That’s halitosis you’ve been smelling. You've long since lost count of how many sailors would come into sick bay complaining of bad breath and you’d lecture them about brushing every day as you yanked out their rotten...

You reach inside your satchel. As expected, the sharp toys are gone — knives, razors, scissors -- but the blunt instruments remain. Combs, picks, rubbing alcohol, and…

A-ha.

“I have an idea,” you whisper. “Can you get that thing’s mouth open?”

“Probably. Why?”

You hold up your pair of pliers. “Ever had a cavity?”

The lion sweeps its paw through the crate, smashing it to splinters.

You dive to the right and skid to your feet. You watch as Luffy swings up onto the lion’s back, wielding the shackles like a pair of reins. He tries to get the rope into its mouth, but with a toss of its head, the beast throws him forward and over its snout like a bull bucks a rodeo rider. He holds on tight, but the rope snaps. He hits the ground hard and doesn’t move.

Maternal instinct kicks in. You grab him tight and yank him away from the lion's jaws just as they snap shut. You throw him behind you and hear him scramble away.

The lion’s eyes follow him, but you kiss the air. “Here, kitty kitty kitty,” you sing-song. You flap your arms and make yourself as enticing as possible. “C’mere, puss puss puss.”

The lion stalks towards you. You jump forward and yank his whiskers, hoping to catch him by surprise.

He hisses and swipes at you. You jump backwards just in time. His gaze drifts towards Luffy again, so you flap your arms harder.

“Pss pss pss. C'mon, kitty kitty kitty. Best you got? King of the jungle, my ass.” Trash-talking a lion. This day keeps getting stranger. “Your mane is raggedy and your breath stinks.”

In the corner of your eye, Luffy moves strangely. Like a cat about to throw up all over the rug you just had cleaned.

Another swipe. You narrowly dodge this one. “Better get back on the ‘nip. You fight like shit when you’re sober.” The lion growls. “Ooh, sore spot?”

It must be, because this swipe connects. Pow. Right in the kisser, right in the gut, right in the everything. You’re launched clear across the ring, slamming into the lip that separates it from the ground. Something cracks and you hope it wasn’t your back.

You can’t move as the lion bears down upon you. Claws dig into your skin. Rotten breath hits your face. He opens his mouth to take a bite...

...only to squeal in pain. You open your eyes.

Luffy stands between you and the lion, holding tight to the golden tube he’s jammed into its jaws. It roars and tries to move, but like a bit in a horse's mouth, Luffy holds him steady. 

“Go!” he shouts.

You snatch up your pliers and scramble to your feet. You stick your head in as much as you can and almost choke on the rancid breath, but there, a few rows back, is a bloody, stinky tooth.

You say a little prayer, grab it with your pliers, and yank harder than you've ever yanked before.

Luffy struggles to keep him still, face turned red from exertion. You put your foot on its jaw to pull harder. The lion screams and thrashes.

Nothing gives. Teeth cut into your arms. Spittle hits your face. A rough tongue scratches your hand. But you hold on tight. What choice do you have?

Scklch.

You go flying backwards so hard you somersault over the edge of the ring and into the dust below. You lay there a moment, head where your ass ought to be, admiring the shooting stars zipping around.

A fuzzy silhouette peers over the edge. Luffy grabs your arm and helps you upright. “Are you okay?”

A pained grunt is all you manage. You’re gripping the pliers so hard your knuckles are about to burst.

But, pinched between the grips, dripping with blood, pus, and saliva, is a big, sharp, rot-blackened tooth.

With a mighty shake of his head, the lion spits the map tube out. He grumbles and paws at his mouth a few times, then licks his chops as he stalks towards you.

You grab Luffy’s hand. Just in case.

The lion looks between the two of you, blinking slowly. He headbutts Luffy so hard the kid almost falls over. He tries the same to you, but you're able to keep your balance. His muzzle is quite soft.

He hops out of the ring. With a big stretch and a rumbly yawn, he flops to the ground, rattling the entire structure. Save for the rise and fall of his flanks, he moves no more.

All is quiet. Just the buzzing in your ears, the sound of Luffy’s breath, and the gentle snore of a sleeping lion.

You look at Luffy. Luffy looks at you.

It hits you both at the same time. His eyes light up and a grin splits his face right in half. You imagine you’ve got a similar expression.

With a mighty whoop, he jumps into your arms. You hug him tighter than you’ve ever hugged anyone in your life. 

And the crowd actually, unironically, spontaneously, goes wild.

---

Buggy cannot fucking believe what he’s seeing. Or hearing. This is a hallucination. He mixed the Buggy Ball gas a bit too strong and accidentally hotboxed the tent or he’s getting a contact high or something.

Not only did you and Rubber Boy tame a lion -- a goddamn lion! -- you’re actually getting cheers. Real, genuine cheers. The clapping is spontaneous. The whistles are real. It’s an honest to God standing ovation.

Sweat, blood, and spit stain your tattered clothes. What hair isn't plastered to your face hangs limp. Your shoulders heave up and down and your legs wobble.

And despite it all, a grin adorns your face. You put one hand to your ear and curl the fingers of the other. On command, the cheers get louder. You blow exaggerated kisses this way and that.

A stray one hits him right between the eyes and, for the briefest moment, Buggy’s rage ebbs.

Like a desperate mother, you were prepared to give your own life to save your little friend. Pathos.

With the odds stacked against you, you yanked victory from the putrid jaws of defeat. Catharsis.

And then your mighty foe, now docile as a lap cat, flopped down to take a nap. Bathos.

A flawless performance if ever there was one. He couldn’t have done better himself.

And now the leading lady basks in the adoration of her audience. You glow in the spotlight, all pearly smiles and twinkling eyes and triumphant poses. 

His stomach ties itself in the same greedy knot it always does when he sees treasure.

It's not fair. You're stuck in adrab uniform running around with some nobodies when you should be draped in wild colors, face painted to accentuate that glorious smile. You should be wielding a baton, directing the flow of the performance and the attention of the crowd. You should get an encore every morning and a curtain call every night.

No, you deserve even better. You should be gracing every marquee of every Marine base right alongside him. A flashy femme fool. A jester ingénue. A Columbina costar for his Harlequin headliner.

Queen of the ring. Queen of the carnival. Queen of the Pirates.

You dump a bottle of something onto Rubber Boy's wrist and he pulls off his Seastone shackle. He crushes the brittle material under his feet. Grinning, you slap the lion’s tooth into his hand and raise it like a boxer would a champion belt.

The crowd is too loud to hear your voice, but he reads your lips just fine. My captain! you say.

And like a tsunami slamming into the shore, his rage returns. He whips the straw hat aside.

“Stop!” he roars, jumping to his feet. “Stop everything!”

Nothing stops. The noise is too great.

He looks around. Where is his crew? Where's Cabaji? Why aren’t they listening? Why isn’t anyone listening?

"Stop it!" he shrieks.

He's lost control. Everything's off script. This isn't good. Where are his freaks? Where's the redhead? Where’s the bounty hunter?

But then he sees it. Glittering on the ground, forgotten in the dust, lies a golden, spittle-soaked tube. His map.

He launches his fists forward: one for Rubber Boy’s stomach and one for your collar.

They collide and they collide hard. Rubber Boy gets knocked off his feet and you shriek as you're lifted into the air. He tightens his grip on you as he recalls the other hand.

He vaults off of his throne and into the ring. He snatches up the map, only to see the bounty hunter bearing down on him.

He grins and hops to his feet. "Take a swing, big guy. Lemme see what you got."

The bounty hunter does just that. Buggy separates cleanly and pops himself back together. The bounty hunter swings again with similar results. He wonders what the kid expected to happen, but seeing the look on his face was totally worth the lost moments.

Buggy cackles. He tosses the map aside for now. "Surprise, shithead!"

He separates himself into a storm of fists and feet, a hurricane of a human body. Something hard hits the hand gripping you, and he turns to see the redhead slamming it with her quarterstaff. He releases his grip to sucker punch her in the gut and shove you into Rubber Boy, who has somehow retrieved his hat. The redhead tumbles over the far side of the ring and you crash into Shanks Junior like a ball hitting bowling pins.

The bounty hunter is easy. One good sustained kick and he's pushed against the lion's crate all the way to the edge. The wood splinters under him with a mighty crunch as he tumbles out of the ring.

The storm abates as he pulls himself together. With a roll of his neck, he turns his attention to you and Rubber Boy. You’re helping him to his feet. How gallant of you.

"Would ya look at that. Guess Richie won't be getting his lunch today," he quips.

As soon as he speaks, you whirl around. You scowl and hold your fists in front of you. "Pick on someone your own age."

He laughs. Do you really think you sound tough like that? You're nothing but an angry kitten. A bristling toothbrush. A posturing weakling.

...If that statement is true, though, you're also looking pretty good for your age.

You rush him. You throw one punch, then another. He catches your wrists and wrenches your elbows, making you cry out. The sound pierces his core, makes him pity you for a brief moment, but then you crash your forehead into his nose.

With a growl, he wrenches even harder. Something pops and you scream. He relishes this one.

"Shame to destroy such a gorgeous face," he purrs. "Perhaps I'll flay you. Turn it into a pretty little mask--"

Something else pops, bringing with it a pinch of pain and a sliding sensation. He looks down to see Rubber Boy's fist snapping backwards and a cylinder of his gut floating somewhere behind him.

With a wink and a tongue click, Buggy pulls the cylinder back.

To the kid's credit, he shows no fear. He adjusts his hat and looks him dead in the eyes. "You can throw me to the lions and I'll let it slide," he says, "but don't you ever threaten my friends."

He throws you straight out of the ring and into the audience, paying no attention to the crashes and screams. All he cares about right now is little Shanks Junior over there.

"So you want to die first," he says. "Be my guest."

He pulls his knives from his belt, one for each finger gap. He separates his body, one segment at a time. Some pieces go whirling around him, the others he throws into a spin with a windup that would make a pitcher jealous.

"Chop Chop Cannon!"

---

You do not have a weapon. You punch things. You box your way to victory.

So when you stumble back into the fray and hear Luffy holler "the crates!" at you and Nami, this means you have to catch these floating body parts being flung towards you with your bare hands.

Pectoral. Shoulder blade. Calf. All thrown into the nearest box, crate, or barrel. Upper arm. Lower arm. Thigh.

Actually, that last one may have been a buttcheek. You wonder if that counts as reaching second base.

One by one, piece by piece, the Genius Jester is cut down to size. In minutes, he's nothing more than a head, hands, and feet. The world's ugliest potato figure.

He lets out a few impotent curses, a few pathetic attempts at preserving his bravado. You feel bad for him in a 'sucks to suck' way.

You haul yourself back up into the ring just as Luffy reels back a double-barrelled punch. Buggy tries to skitter away, begging for mercy, but you place your foot on top of his head, holding him still like you would the ball in a game of footie.

He gives you a pleading look. You wink and click your tongue.

"Gum Gum Ba-zoo-ka!"

His arms snap forward and the little clown goes flying up, up, up through the air, straight through the tent fabric, and into the wild blue yonder.

The sunlight hurts to stare at, but you look just to be sure the clown doesn’t sprout wings and come flying back. That would be just your luck.

But he does not.

You look at Luffy. Luffy looks at you. You flash him a wide grin and he returns it threefold.

And then he flinches, clutching his arm. You rush over, already pulling out your rubbing alcohol. “Give it here.”

It’s quick work. The worst was that gash, but that’s clotted up. Everything else is bruises and scratches. You wrap them up just to be sure.

From his pocket, he pulls out the lion’s tooth. He examines it while you bandage his arm. “That was good thinking,” he says.

You shrug. “I figured we didn’t have much to lose.”

“Still.” He twirls it between his fingers. “I’m glad you’re part of my crew.”

You pause a little bit. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m a Marine?”

He looks at you like you grew a second head. Wouldn’t be the craziest thing to have happened today. “You said you deserted. Just don't go back and it's fine.”

“You barely know me. I've got secrets. I could be war criminal. Or maybe a runaway princess.”

He blinks at you. “Why would that matter?”

He says it so earnestly that you almost drop the gauze. You look him right in the eyes. They're deep as the sea and shallow as a pond all at once. Not a single thought behind those wide, wondering eyes, honest as a child’s.

“You saved us twice. Three if you count Shells Town," Luffy says. "That's enough for me.”

Hearing that makes you feel about ten kilos lighter. “Thanks, kid.”

He smiles at first, but then gives you a stern look. He levels a finger at you. “That’s Captain to you.”

You can’t help but laugh. “My apologies. Thanks, Captain Kid.”

The smile returns. He holds the tooth out to you. “Here.”

You shake your head. “Captain gets first pick of the booty.”

“I already pick the map. Take it.” He pokes your shoulder with it -- the same one that got licked -- making you hiss. “Sorry.”

Well, if he insists. “Slip it in my bag. I’ll do something cool with it later.” 

He does so. It clacks against the bottles on the way down.

Nami and Zoro are far less worse for wear. They scoop up the map and free the citizens and lead them into the light. You consider waking the lion up, but it’s probably better to let sleeping cats lie.

As you let the flap fall behind you, Luffy turns. “So the wedding’s off?” he asks, walking backwards.

Wedding? What-- oh.

You open your mouth to speak, but Nami beats you to it. “The what?”

“The wedding.” Luffy blinks. “Didn’t Booby say you were getting married? Right after he kissed you.”

“Buggy,” you say automatically. You're not going to forget that name anytime soon. Your stomach does a weird... twist. It’s not nausea but it’s not pleasant, either.

Nami gives you a high-browed, wide-eyed look. She glances between you and Luffy. “You know what? I don’t wanna know.”

She joins Zoro. You just shake your head and throw your arm around Luffy’s shoulder.

“A lady doesn't just go around accepting marriage proposals on the first date,” you say. You speak from experience. "She's gotta have standards."

He tips his head in that puppy-like way. “Like what?"

“Not feed me to a lion, first of all. At least buy me a drink before a pussy gets involved.”

Nami’s head whirls around so fast you swear you hear a whip crack. Luffy nods like a loyal apostle receiving wisdom. You give her an empty grin.

As you walk, you can’t help but wonder where the clown ended up. In a weird, probably trauma-driven way, you hope he’s... well, maybe not alright, but maybe he’ll think about what he’s done.

Axe-Hand Moron. Heh.

---

Buggy thinks about a lot of things as he hops his way back to the tent. Mostly about how he's going to use half of you little fuckers to chum the waters to attract sharks to feed the other half to.

His murderous plans get more specific as enters the tent and sees the carnage you've wrought. His tent, ripped. His risers, shattered. His goons, dead or missing. His lion, trying to bat him around like a cat toy. A punch in the nose makes him slink off.

First, he'll drown Rubber Boy. Throw him in a sack and toss him in the ocean, no cement shoes required. Then he'll use the bounty hunter for target practice for when he finally decides to take up axe-throwing.

As he rebuilds himself, one crate at a time, his thoughts turn to the ladies.

He could probably put the redhead to work as a cigarette girl. Or stick her in a kissing booth. Make her think she'll be kept alive and just when she thinks she's home free... Snckt. Off with her head.

But what to do with you. You, you, you. Mysterious, maddening you. You, who made his mouth start writing stupid checks. You, who made his heart flutter without even showing a hint of forbidden skin. You, who stole his spotlight in such a flashy way that he couldn't even be mad about it at first.

Who are you? What are you? What kind of sea witch magic are you working that's got him all in a tizzy like this?

He's getting huffy just thinking about it. The thudding of his heart helps him find his upper chest.

As he sticks his thighs back on, a ray of inspiration strikes him.

He'll play the long con. Drape you in velvet. Drown you in jewels. Drench you in so much gold, it will drip off of you like water down a windowpane.

You’ll fuss. You’ll fight. Might even try to kill him. But he'll keep you by his side. Tell you sweet things. Make promises. Play the part of the hopeless love interest.

And he'll get under your skin. It'll start to work. You'll start harboring feelings you'll be too proud to act on.

And by the time he's king of the seas, king of the world, King of the Pirates... You'll have fallen desperately in love with him. You'll make a grand confession. You'll bare your very heart and soul to him. You'll beg him to take you in his arms and kiss you like he did in Orange Town.

And he'll tip your chin up, look you in the eyes, and tell you he doesn't give a damn.

Oh, how he'll savor those bitter, bitter tears and your distraught wails. He'll watch with glee as you throw yourself overboard in desolation, only to fish you out. He'll lock you in an ivory tower with everything you could ever want or need.

Everything except him.

He grins manically to himself as he slaps on his shin. But first thing's first: taking out the competition.

"Wait 'til I get my hands on that rubber-hose little runt,” he growls, hopping on one foot to retrieve his final piece. "No one makes a fool of Buggy the Clown…!"

Not him. Not anyone.

And certainly not you.

---

Round and round

With love we'll find a way, just give it time

Round and round

What comes around goes around...

---

And here end the theatrics! Now you know how it all began. Clowns have such curious courtship rituals, don't you think?

If you'd like to be added to the series tag list, please go here. Until next time, stay flashy~ ✨

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

---

Taglist: @galaxycunt @lavalampskyy @vgilantee @alexsteev @that-weirdo-named-ollie @ruledbyproblematique @potatodaddy @little-gremlin-hands @knightsfavoredprincess

[elliesangel222]

DEAD DOVE pt 2. // E.W x reader

wc; 1k

part one

The next school day went by smoothly, You hadn't heard from our stalker that day, but it was only lunch.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

You jumped, your hands shaking slightly. “Y-yeah..”

You moved your bag so Ellie could sit next to you in the cafeteria.

“Do you like The Walking Dead?” she asked and your eyes lit up almost instantly.

“Yeah!” you exclaimed gleefully and before you knew it, you guys were gushing about the show. Your stalker completely slipped your mind.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

You left school that day feeling especially optimistic. You and Ellie had exchanged numbers-

Crunch.

You stepped on something that lay on your front porch. You immediately looked down and there it lay, a crumpled dead dove. The dove lay contorted and broken on your porch. Its wings had been snipped off and stuck on your front door, coagulated blood used as glue. A pair of kitchen scissors lay next to the open stomach. Its rib cage was snapped open, and all of its organs spilled out. Your breathing grew labored as you picked up your shoe and saw the mutilated head that mushed under your shoe.

Bile rose up your throat as you dry-heaved over the corpse of the poor, dead dove. Your hands shook violently as they flew up to cover your mouth. Vomit quickly spewed from your mouth and in between your fingers as you collapsed on the ground, You lay in the pile of blood and vomit but you couldn't move. You were almost paralyzed and had no idea what to do. Your parents were in Belize and Jesse was at work.

You shakily grabbed your phone and dialed Ellie, your fingers slick with bile and spit.

With every ring, your heart sank a little bit more.

‘What if she doesn't pick up?’

Your fears quickly subsided as Ellie's raspy voice greeted you.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You tried to explain but kept on choking on your words. Your mouth still tasted sour and your throat felt like sandpaper.

“Hold tight, I'm on my way”

Ellie's car quickly pulled up, screeching to a halt as she slammed on her brakes and jumped out of the driver's seat to comfort you as you fell apart.

She carried you to her car as you sobbed, not caring what bodily fluid got on her clothes.

“Would you wanna come spend the night with me at my place? It might make you feel better, We can order pizza and you can tell me what's goin' on, hm?”

You nodded, still in a trance-like state.

Ellie was glad, you had fallen right into her trap, Now you felt so unsafe in your own home you reached out to Ellie to protect you.

Everything was falling into place.

When you both arrived at Ellie's house she guided you to the bathroom, her hand around your waist. “Can you hop up for me?” she patted your hip and then the bathroom counter, standing in front of you. You nodded and hopped up, sitting on the counter like she asked. Ellie reached behind you and grabbed a towel off the rack, wetting it with warm water and wringing it out. “I'm gonna clean all this yucky-ness off you, Is that okay?” You nodded and she started to wipe the blood and gore off you. Silently you cried, tears streaming down your face. Nobody had ever helped you like this. 

“S-someone put that dove there.” You managed to hiccup out. Ellie furrowed her eyebrows as she tipped your chin up with her hand and wiped the bile off from around your mouth. “Who would do such a horrible thing to you?” she questioned. You shrugged your shoulders, not sure yourself. “I'm gonna go grab you some clothes to change into, okay?” You gave a weak smile and picked at your nails, waiting for her to come back. 

Ellie walked back into the bathroom and stood in between your legs as she continued cleaning you off. She took the hem off your shirt in her hands and you raised your hands so she could take it off you. 

 “Can you throw it out?” you asked her, referring to the shirt. She nodded as she tried to hide the blush from her face as you sat in front of her in such a pretty lace bra. Ellie pulled one of her shirts over your head, it was oversized and comfy and warm, and you loved it. You slipped your pants off, leaving you just in a baggy shirt and your underwear. Ellie slid a pair of black boxers up your thighs, letting her hands linger over the exposed skin. You were exhausted. You wanted nothing more than to just sleep.

   Ellie eventually led you to her room after she tied your hair back for you. You flopped on her bed and grabbed a blanket. “You want me to put on a show” Ellie asked as she sat down next to you, You laid your head in her lap and nodded. Ellie blushed a deep red as she stroked your hair and found a show to put on. 

“Someone’s watching me,” you told Ellie in the middle of the show. She looked at you full of concern.

“I think I see them everywhere, even in the dark when I know I'm alone I can feel them there, watching. I think I'm going crazy, you know?” Ellie shook her head instantly. 

“You’re not crazy, I'd be paranoid if I had a stalker too” Ellie assured you and you smiled slightly.

You drifted into a deep sleep moments later, Ellie stared at you lovingly. She slowly moved your head from her lap and onto a pillow so she could sit up and fully admire you. Ellie took her phone out, taking pictures and videos of your sleeping face, then pictures of your body. Ellie hesitated for a moment and then slowly lifted your shirt to take pictures of you in your bra, her fingers traced over the black lace as she snapped her shots. “I don't mean to stare but you're just so cute.” She murmured to herself

‘This is fucking wrong, but I can't stop.’ Ellie thought as she pulled your shirt back down, feeling disgusted but also oddly satisfied with herself.

next chapter

[cherry3point14]

What Does The Fox Say?

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Crack. Orgy. Sex Party. Don’t let your nethers tingle, it’s barely flirting. SYNONYMS. Word Count: 2,300ish.   Summary/Prompt: There’s a case. Witches or something, and they’re killing people, specifically furries, maybe. As such one Dean Winchester goes to a furry sex party to look for clues... A/N: Written for @kalesrebellion​ “Bring On the Giggles” challenge. I think hope my synonyms for this challenge will be fairly obvious. Also, shoutout to @winchesters-meaty-feast​ who entertained my panic as this deadline loomed and pretty much talked me into birthing this ~thing. Sidenote - no disrespect to the furries who walk among us. It’s all exaggerated crack!fic. Peace and love. Yiffy on friends.

From the outside, it looks like any other two-story townhouse. There’s a car parked out front, normal mailbox, the works. Regular suburban home. The first clue that something out of the ordinary is happening inside—where the ordinary is mom, dad, and two-point four ankle-biters having dinner—is the windows. They’re all covered, curtains or blinds, it doesn’t matter. This is what it looks like when humans try to cover their tracks. Monsters choose places that are already deserted and forgotten. Humans hide in plain sight and end up sticking out like a sore thumb. Plus Dean has spent all day talking to furries about this house. Yeah, that’s the biggest clue, not the damn curtains. He’s had multiple lectures, not only from Sam but the furries, people, themselves. It’s not all about porn. They’d told him adamantly. Showed him drawings and all these things they’d made each other, and pictures from their conventions. We’re not all perverts! They could say it until they were blue in the face (they had), but Dean’s standing here looking at this house, knowing what’s inside, and it’s hard to believe the furries-are-innocent propaganda. It’s even harder to believe he’s walking in there of his own free will. The things he’ll do to save lives. Sam told him to change because “Freeze, FBI” might not go down well at this particular house party. What’s he supposed to change into? A Halloween costume? That suggestion earned him yet another talk about respecting people’s interests. Whatever. He gets it, they don’t all have full fursuit things and even the ones that do, don’t generally fuck in them, and really? Is it really fucking necessary that he knows this much about furries? At least he can put on a plain black tee and some jeans and Sam only half presses his lips together in disapproval. What is his brother expecting him to wear to a furry sex party? Cat ears? (Dean is offended by the implication even if Sam didn't say it out loud). Eventually, shuffling his feet, he makes it to the door and knocks. He doesn’t want to be here but Sam’s working another lead on the other side of town at a D&D meet up. All jokes about dungeons aside, Dean would have given up his music privileges all the way back to Kansas to switch places. Once again, scissors bit him in the ass. The door opens a few inches, enough to see, hand to god, a guy in white rabbit-ish body paint. He raises his eyebrows in Dean’s direction like he’s asking for something without saying the words. The guy definitely doesn’t twitch his nose and it definitely doesn’t remind Dean of that bunny from Bambi. Oh shit. The password. Right, because that was how you made a gathering like this more legit and less embarrassing. Dean’s throat tightens like the words don’t want to come out, or like he doesn’t want them to exist, “Yiffy Ki Yay.” Furry sons of bitches have even ruined Die Hard. The guy nods and pulls the door open enough to let Dean slide in, but not reveal too much of the clandestine activities to the outside world. Not that anyone on Maple Avenue is looking into this particular door. Either the neighbors know better or they don’t care. Although now that he’s inside Dean can see his nameless host is also wearing tall, white ears and furry cuffs on his ankles and wrists. The first of what, Dean assumes, will be many red flags that he should leave. Not that he heeds the warning. “First time?” The rabbit asks while Dean attempts to scan as much as he can see without a slack jaw. “Yeah,” he breathes out. Dean has been around the block. He’s seen the inside of more than just strip clubs. His number one use of the Internet is porn, his second? More porn. This is something else. He’s not judging, well, he's trying not to judge and failing miserably. These people aren’t hurting anyone though. In fact, someone might be trying to hurt them. Or the D&D players. They were still on the fence about how the groups were linked beside the weird deaths. Granted some of this party seems very vanilla from what he can see. He catches a glimpse of the dining room, which has been cleared of most of its furniture, and there’s your everyday orgy of mangled limbs. Those limbs happen to be a little furrier than normal is all. Thankfully not everyone is dressed as an animal. Not that anybody will be telling Sam that he was right. Some people are dotted around watching, or drinking like the sex isn’t happening, and some of the people getting involved are in plain clothes. Or, naked but not wearing any sort of animal accessory. At first glance, there’s a part of Dean that thinks he can appreciate the hedonism of it, without being bogged down by the fact that they're all cosplaying as goddamn animals. Animal enthusiasts, he corrects in his head before Sam telepathically delivers a bitch face from across town. And then he’s walking through the kitchen and there are two people nuzzling each other. People might not be the right word because they’re dressed as cats. Holding each other and stretching and bending their limbs. All feline movements and what he thinks is a purring noise, but he can’t confirm or deny because of the music coming from the cheap speakers on the counter. It might be sweet if it wasn’t in the middle of a sex party. Yeah, this is still going to take some getting used to. The rabbit is yammering, mentioning ground rules that Dean is only half listening to while he tries not to stare at the cats. He’s listening enough to follow the rules but actually, he can’t bring himself to look away from the most PC thing happening in the joint. “Did you get that because I heard the door…?” This time Floppy speaks with enough urgency that Dean snaps his focus back to the white rabbit. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll-” he wants to say ‘mingle’ like it’s a seventies swingers party and his biggest concern is where his car keys are. He licks his dry lips and they still feel like sandpaper, “-look around.” He does need to look around, talk to people, do his job. That’s why he’s here feeling like the spare dick at a fucking contest. Dean knows his limits though and before he investigates he's gonna need a beer.  Once he’s got a bottle in his hand, which he got from the fridge because he doesn’t trust anything that was sitting on any surface, even unopened, he starts climbing the stairs. The tinny music, the sound of bodies slapping against each other, and the low din of people talking like normal adults all fade with each step until he’s at the top. Practically not at a furry orgy anymore. Except it’s a new horrific game now. What’s behind door number one? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers Whiskers going on about the rules of the rooms. Lock up if you want privacy. Unlocked and shut means viewers welcome. Open doors are an invitation to play. That’s the word Thumper had used, play. The first door is locked. He skips the second because he can hear what's going on inside and even if he was in the mood to creep (he’s not), you don't walk in on the money shot. The third room is a bathroom, a stark reminder he's in a house that people live in. The fourth door he tries is blissfully empty. It looks like a guest room. Walls that are basic beige and nothing identifying. Then he sits on the bed and presses his back into the wall. He realizes this bed has probably been used for the activities he’s already seen tonight. Out of sight, out of mind. Dean takes out his phone and stares, annoyed, at the screen. Sam hasn’t messaged him, so the case isn’t solved and he doesn’t have an excuse to leave. He takes a swig of his beer and types with his free hand, trying to make an excuse. Find anything yet? Another long drag while he waits, forcing the drink down his throat in the hopes of some small semblance of dutch courage. Or in the hopes that everything is solved, so he can go back to the motel and beat his meat to hentai like a normal person. No, but this is actually really interesting. You? Dean’s fingers twitch wanting nothing more than to throw the phone against a wall. If he wasn’t obligated to text back to illustrate that he’s still alive then he might leave Sam high and dry. As it is his reply is short and simple. Nothing. He feels no need to mention that he hasn’t actually looked yet. Dean puts his phone away and throws his head back against the wall at the exact moment the door opens. She stumbles in with the ghost of a giggle on her lips. He’s expecting there to be someone following her considering the party he’s attending. Two people blundering into a room looking for a place to get some privacy. Except she’s alone and she’s not concerned to find him alone either. Her eyes widen a little but her smile is soft, “sorry, you’re not waiting on someone are you?” “Me?” He asks, concerned that he has picked up some paraphernalia along the way. Anything that might suggest he’s a part of this. She continues to wait for an answer to her question instead of answering his. “No, Nah. Just taking a breather.” “Thank god, me too.” She blows out a relieved puff of air before shutting the door behind her. In doing so she flashes him her tail. She’s a fox. Or some version of a fox. She hasn’t gone as far as body paint. Her outfit almost seems costumey rather than serious. It’s this orange mini dress—if it could be called a dress for how little it leaves to his imagination—with a bushy, foxtail attached. He hadn’t noticed her ears immediately, but now he’s seen them, there they are. Ginger and pointed on top of her head, and when she turns back to him he finally notices the little, black nose she has painted on. She sits down next to him, scoots herself on top of the sheets making them bunch under her. She doesn’t seem to care about him having dibs over the bed or room and it only takes a few seconds for him to not care either. In this close proximity, inches apart, he doesn’t see a fox, even if she is definitely dressed up as a fox. He sees bare legs crossed at the ankle, her dress fighting to contain her cleavage and the sheen of her skin from dancing. She’s holding a red solo cup, he assumes half full of alcohol considering the pink flushing her cheeks. “I’m going to take a guess,” she leans until her shoulder is pressed against his arm, “you’re either a first-timer or you’re lost.” Dean laughs because he feels lost even if his cover is supposed to be the former. “First time, that obvious, huh? Thanks for pointing it out. Real considerate of you.” She bites her lip enough to get him looking at her mouth. Thinking about her mouth. “Wolf?” “What?” “I get it, first-timers are still trying to be normal, but the dark colors and the brooding loner thing you have going on in here. A wolf missing his pack?” She brings her knees up and bends her legs under herself while she guesses. Twists her body in his direction. He can’t tell if she’s joking. It sounds half ridiculous and makes him think of the kind of wolves he hunts. Dean lies anyway, “ding ding. Tell the woman what she’s won. Or do you prefer..?” Dean waves a hand to her everything fox related as if he might seriously start using ‘fox’ instead of ‘woman’. His gesturing hand lands on her waist while the other takes another swig from his brown bottle. “‘S fine. We’re all still people underneath. I’ve got a job and everything.” She rolls her shoulders like she’s showing off for being employed, which shuffles her whole body half an inch closer to his until her knees are touching his thigh. She’s facing him, his arm still lazily, half wrapped around her as she raises her cup to her lips. “Oh yeah, what do you do, sweetheart?” He lets the syrup fall from his mouth because foxes like honey.

She laughs, the sound tinkles in the space between them. “I’m a diner chef. Nothing exciting unless you like to eat?” His tongue peeks out between his teeth, his lips smirking suggestively. “I’ve been known to enjoy a-,” Dean's eyes flick down her body to where her dress is stretching over her thighs, and then back to her face, “fur burger.” Nowhere else on the fucking planet would he get away with saying that. Only at a furry sex party. She doesn’t just smile at his line though, she hums, pleased he’s playing along, and slides a hand along the outer hem of his jeans. Fingers slowly crawling up his leg and tracing the denim.

One blink and the air is thicker, heavier, and Dean doesn’t give a shit when it happened.

Her eyes flash playfully as she finishes her drink. “Mmm, the only way to make sure a burger is done is a good thrust of a meat thermometer.” 

5eva tags: @divadinag​ @darthdeziewok​ @fluentinfiction​ @witch-of-letters​ @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog​​ @magnitude101999​ @alexwinchester23​ @jesseswartzwelder​ Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles​ @akshi8278​ @erins-culinary-service​ @bloodydaydreamer​ @iamabeautifulperson18​ @ellewritesfix05​

[desertdollranch]

Easy DIY backdrops for your doll photos

Take a look at Antonia’s renovated bedroom! It’s got pretty floral wallpaper, eyelet lace curtains, and a view out the window of the Rio Grande under a bright moon.

This was a very easy and simple backdrop to make, and it cost me under $5 in supplies. It makes a nice setting for photographing a modern character’s indoor scenes, or even for a historical character. I can change the window view and the curtains if I want to give it a different look, and I can hang posters or pictures on the walls. It’s also reversible, so on the other side is an entirely different bedroom scene. 

I figured some of you might like to see how I did it, and learn how you can do it yourself for your own dolls. You only need a few simple and inexpensive supplies and an hour or so to make these. 

I’ll tell you more about them under the cut. Scroll down to the end of the tutorial for some easy alternatives to handmade backdrops for those of you who aren’t into crafts.

Here’s a list of the materials I used: 

Foam core boards from Dollar Tree. It’s thin yet durable enough to easily cut, paint, and sand the hard edges. I always peel the paper off before painting; the paper will shrivel and peel right off if you paint it. I’ve tried other brands of foam core, and a lot of them tend to be difficult to cut. So definitely go for the lightweight kind rather than that heavy duty type.

4 sheets of scrapbook paper covers a backdrop with one or two windows. Scrapbook paper is anywhere from 25 cents to 50 cents a sheet, depending on where you buy it. You can also buy those big portfolios of assorted paper, but those tend to have only two sheets of each design, so you’ll either have to use two different prints or make lower wall paneling.

For the window frame, I got two pieces of scrapbook paper printed with a white wood design. I cut the paper into thin strips  

X-Acto knife for cutting the foam core board, or a similar craft knife. 

Sandpaper or emery board for sanding the edges of the foam core. This is optional, but I do it because I like the look of rounded rather than sharp edges.

Scrap fabric for the curtains or valances. My eyelet lace curtains were cut from an old thrifted bed skirt. Ribbons, too, if you’re tying the curtains back.

Velcro to attach curtains and window scenes.

Pictures to put behind the window as your outdoor view. You can print pictures or cut them out of books. 

Postcards or other pictures to hang on the walls and decorate the rooms.

Hot glue gun. You could use white glue for this, but it tends to warp and bubble paper. Hot glue keeps the paper smooth.

Scissors.

Use the X-Acto knife to cut one or two rectangles about 8 inches by 11 inches, or whatever size your window scene is. Then cut a few small strips for the horizontal and vertical dividers in the window frame. 

(Ignore for now the curtains on the other side, since there’s already a finished backdrop there. I made this board reversible. I’ll get back to that shortly.)

I spread a thin layer of hot glue onto the foam board, and put the paper down like this. 

I run my finger down the edge to mark it before I cut it with scissors, so that it fits exactly. 4 sheets will just barely cover the whole space, so cut your paper in a way that leaves as little wasted paper as possible!

Trim down the smaller pieces that you cut off and use them to get the smaller spaces below or above the window(s). Continue cutting and gluing until the wall is all covered. 

Then flip it over and do the other side with different paper.

If you don’t have enough paper, or if you want to give your scene a bit of variation, you can fill the empty space with lower wall paneling. 

You’ll need another piece of foam core for the paneling. Measure rectangles, cut them with the X-Acto knife, and use sandpaper or an emery board to sand the edges smooth before hot glueing down.

Cut the wood-print scrapbook paper into thin strips to cover the horizontal and vertical bars in the window frame. 

Here’s an up-close look:

I cut the paper into thin strips and glued them around the whole window, and on top of the horizontal and vertical bars inside the window.

For valance curtains, I hemmed two rectangles of eyelet lace and used straight pins to secure them to the foam board. That way I can unpin and put them on the other side with the pink wallpaper. 

But with the single-window bedroom that Antonia is in at the top of this post, I used Velcro to attach them.

I stitched the scratchy side of the Velcro to the curtain, and the soft side of the Velcro I hot glued to the wall just above the window frame.

Since I made this foam board backdrop reversible, I also hot glued Velcro onto the window frame on the reverse side so that I can easily move the curtains to whichever side I’m photographing.

So this.....

....Is the reverse side of this.....

....which also has Velcro attached at the top corners of the window frame.

The outdoor scene you see here is also detachable, and uses scratchy Velcro to attach to the soft Velcro. So I can Velcro the curtains to the side that I’m photographing, and Velcro the outdoor scene to the reverse side of the foam board.

When the outdoor view is attached to the soft Velcro on the window frame, I can flip it over and see a nice seamless view out the window.

So here’s what side A of the foam board looks like when it’s all set up: 

And here’s what side B of the foam core looks like all set up:

These are the same curtains and same outdoor window view, but the curtains are Velcroed onto the right side facing me, and the outdoor view is Velcroed on the reverse side. 

For the outdoor view pictures, I got a few National Geographic books from the thrift store for 10 cents apiece, and cut some of the full-page color photos out.

The Chesapeake book had lots of nice field and farm views. The Southwest and Rockies book provided some beautiful mountain and desert landscapes. 

To stabilize the pictures and keep them smooth and steady when they’re hung up, I hot glued them to heavy watercolor paper. Mounting them on card stock or another piece of foam core would also work well.

You can use straight pins or Velcro to attach them to the reverse side.

That makes a nice twilight farm scene outside. The whole scene looks like a cozy farm kitchen.

For bedrooms, postcards and book or magazine cut-outs make great posters.

I prefer to use straight pins to attach these, since I don’t want to glue Velcro onto the walls in case I want to make a room scene with bare walls.

A Georgia O’Keeffe postcard would look great in a bedroom for Saige. 

Bonus variation: the adobe wall! 

I use this a lot for Josefina. This is just a piece of thicker foam core (the kind that doesn’t cut up easily) that I slathered with a mixture of acrylic paint and cornmeal. The adobe color is a mix of red, brown, orange, and white. I think I used an entire bottle of each color. Then I threw in a small handful of cornmeal to mimic the rough texture of real adobe, and used my hands to spread it over the entire surface of the board. 

The thicker foam board here is a good thing, since it’s less likely to warp when wet paint is applied to it. For the thicker board, I don’t even try to peel the paper layer off of it.

Bonus alternative backdrops: shower curtains! 

Here’s Addy in front of a night sky/zodiac shower curtain. 

Shower curtains can be pretty inexpensive. They’re large enough to get full coverage of a background so you aren’t cropping to remove the edges of your foam board.

And you get a nice variety of scenes that you may not otherwise be able to reproduce. There’s no way I could have made a beautiful Hawaiian beach with sand, unless I printed huge posters and spent $100 on large prints. This shower curtain was under $10 and does the job perfectly!

[differentfurycherryblossom]

How to Build a Dollhouse: Make Your Own Family Heirloom

Unless you're lucky enough to have inherited a handmade DIY Doll House from an earlier time—perhaps one of those grand, exquisitely detailed masterpieces that a grandmother or great-aunt might have doted over for hours—you'll most likely find real quality only by building your own, buying a precut kit from one of the reputable dollhouse manufacturers, or taking out a mortgage at an exclusive toy store.

Whichever route you take, you'll probably end up with a dollhouse made of plywood—usually a thin lauan for the die-cut kit models, and thicker stock for the homemade versions. Both are plenty sturdy and have the bulk to prove it—the larger kits can weigh a very solid 50 pounds or more.

Construction aside, there's one clear measure of quality in any dollhouse, and that's accuracy in scale: the proportional translation of full-size features to miniature ones. The most popular scale is 1" to 1'; hence, a house measuring 30' X 42' becomes a model 2 1/2' × 3 1/2' in size. Likewise, wall thicknesses, door heights, and window openings all should be reduced proportionately so as not to look awkward in miniature.

In an attempt to achieve a comfortable middle ground between durability, weight, and faithful scale, Clarence Goosen, a former MOTHER staffer, developed this farm-style dollhouse with DIY modern mini furniture, using a sheathing-over-framing technique common to full-size structures. The framework is made of white pine, cut into strips of no more than 1" in width. The sheathing is corrugated cardboard covered on the outside with poster-board siding. Inside, pieces of fabric, wallpaper, or wood set off the different rooms.

The result is an inexpensive (albeit a time-consuming) project with the accurate detail of the better kits. Those who simply follow the instructions will be well on their way to completing a duplicate of the house you see here; the more adventurous can use the techniques to modify this plan or even to design a whole new structure to suit their tastes. Because many of the raw materials are free, there's little reason not to experiment with the house's shape or its features.

Tools and Building Materials

Before you begin, take stock of your tools. With the exception of one item, you won't need anything complicated. An artist's trim knife (or a utility knife), a steel straightedge, a square, a hammer, sandpaper, and a pair of 8" scissors will do everything but cut the wood. For that, you'll need either a standard table saw or, better, a compact bench-top model with a small-diameter blade. If you have access to neither, have someone cut the strips for you—it's important that they be trimmed accurately.

How to Make

1.  Download your free craft templates and cut your dollhouse furniture with scissors.

2.  Decorate your dollhouse rooms with your favourite patterned paper and stick with glue. We used  a variety of paper patterns for the different rooms.

3.  For extra detail, you can create a skirting board for your rooms by placing ribbon at the bottom of your shoebox and sticking in place with double sided tape.

4.  If you have a small shoebox (pictured below) to create your individual rooms, get a piece of thick cardboard the width and depth of your shoebox to create a floor for your dolls house then cover with your selected papers.

5.  If you have a large shoe box (as pictured below) take two pieces of thick cardboard and create a cross in the center, fix together with tape and cover with your favourite papers

6.  Use the Washi Tape to cover the edges of your cardboard edges for a pretty finish.

7.  Place one piece of Dovecraft Small 3D Foam squares to your paper furniture cut outs and place in your DIY mini size doll house series, gently press down on your paper furniture to ensure they remain secure.

Kids will love the chance to get creative decorating their own house to fill with their favourite toys. Why not show us your recent upcycled crafts in the project gallery; we would love to see them!

[feel199x]

             TO PROTECT OUR DISTRICT - THE EVER WATCHING EYE

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X   m.list

♘ ceo!hwang hyunjin, mafia!au, mafia boss!hwang hyunjin

♘ warnings; fighting scene, hospital setting, swearing, murder/kill mention

♘ summary: reader has to go save yet another person for her conspiracy

♘ a/n: *rubbing my evil little writer hands* hehe enjoy (also this chapter is short but i wanted to post i...sorry

You woke up, thrashing against yourself, even before you realized where you were. And when you finally did, the white of the walls infuriated you. You screamed and hissed to people who weren’t even there. You were giving god a show. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but you could’ve sworn all you knew was white, the color white, like in your eyes and your vision. The cool metal of the handcuffs burned its form into your skin, and as your arms were planted on either side of you, there was no way to break your own thumb to escape them. The door opened almost imperceptibly, and in came the small form a boy. 

 Felix.

 In his hands were two cups of coffee, and he settled himself at the side of your bed. “____.” his voice was low and scraped you like sandpaper, “I’m going to uncuff this hand. Don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Always the charmer, can’t imagine why Hyunjin left you.”

   He fished a key out of his pocket and you stared, grinding down on your teeth. His face was blank, even as he met your eyes. You waited as he placed the coffee in your hands, and you sat it between your legs. “I suppose you know what I’m here to do. Again,” he paused, taking your chin into his thumb and his index, “No funny business, yeah?”

 He sat comfortably in his chair, taking a long sip of coffee. “Please,” you murmured.

 “Please?”

 “Please uncuff my other hand. It hurts, please. Please just give me this. I have to be stuck in here, let me move.” You were crying. “Uncuff me. Please. Please. I won’t do anything. It hurts, Felix. It hurts.”

 He watched you carefully, “I’ll think about it, now,” He adjusted himself in the chair to face you, “I have in mind to get a few answers from you.”

 “You went off grounds without permission, we know that much,” he paused to look at you, watching for any trace of a reaction, “And there was a robbery at the diner you went to. We’re aware you know we sent them.”

 You watched him watch you. Your eyes leveled on him, “So what?”

 “So,” he folded his hands on top of his lap, “We want you to kill one of them. One who crossed us.”

 Your breath caught in your throat, trapped and expanding. “Okay.” you said, “But uncuff me.” He thought about it for a moment, his hand pressed upon the outline of the small key in his pocket. He pulled it out, finally, and made you wait as he turned the key slowly. Your hands sat limp in your lamp as you stared at the red marks on your wrists. Without thinking, you grabbed the cup of coffee and threw it at him, spilling the warm coffee all over his white button-up. He got up, his chair spilling onto the white floor and he got up after you. You felt him behind you as you exited, and turned your torso as you kicked at him. He caught your leg, but you lifted yourself up, twisting and using your other foot to kick at him and make him fall.

 You pressed your knee onto his chest as you panted, barely noticing your audience. Another figure started to make his way towards you, and you punched and scratched, feeling feral and unravel. 

 “Do not fucking touch me,” you looked at boy before you, “Don’t you fucking touch me, Hyunjin.” You pushed him off you, not feeling an ounce of guilt for the light red scratches on his arm. “I’m not an animal,” you screamed, “I am not a fucking animal, so don’t you treat me like one.” You stood there, in the middle of the observation room, your silk pajama shirt torn and off your shoulder. “Fuck you guys.” 

 It was only after you left the observation room that you realized how your legs wanted to give way. No one came after you, but you were sure they could see you anyway. You hadn’t realized that you had no actual idea where you were, only hearing about this place in the Hwang Estate through conversations that your dad whispered to shadows at the front door. You found a corner to slip by and let yourself slide down the wall for your breath to even out. The place was a labyrinth, and no doubt it was meant to be this way. The dam of your heart broke and your tears flooded. You sat there, sniffing and heaving, mourning what was lost and could not be found. You gasped for air in between fits of crying, letting go of the voyeur of the eye. In the shadowed corner, in the light, you just were. 

 You curled up, against the white tiles, tear-stained and pathetic. And they found you, they always would. Humiliated and sacrificed, what lame lamb you were.

 You don’t know how long it was, but all that mattered is that you were back to your parent’s shell of a home. You sat at the table and stared at the empty chairs by your side. On the table was the file, the file of the one who had crossed them. Kim Yugyeom was at your mercy.

 The plan was simple, slip in and slip out. No cameras, countryside hospitals can’t afford it. Cops? All bought. 

 Except you weren’t going to kill him. He needed your help, and you needed his.

 Mr. Hwang had given you a train ticket, and you eyed it carefully. You knew that he’d rather someone bring you, and you knew you had to bring something to proof of the kill. It was a trap, simply. You left as the world slept, and the shadows crept up from the abyss to play. Watching, always watching. How could you exist, how could you breathe knowing you were being analyzed. So you watched back, looking for anything and everything. And you found nothing, nothing in the dark, but it did not comfort you. The train ride, however, was as close as comfort as the blanket of stars could warm you in their dying heat. The sun cracked the sky, and bled its light and color into the day over the green tongues of the earth and brilliant life of the flowers. The caterpillar train crawled along the track and peace found it’s fleeting moments in the calm transition of the day. The train halted to your stop, and you stood, holding the pole as your feet seemed to sink into the floor. 

 You walked down the road, and at the very end, facing the greenery in all its glory, there stood a simple hospital. You walked in casually, the receptionist paying you no mind, and the emergency room empty with a sports game narration filling the air. You walked down to his room, and he laid there, the plain white blanket pulled up to his chest. You felt your heart weaken at the sight of all the white, and your eyes go blind. 

 You stood at the edge of the bed, “Yugyeom?”

 He opened his eyes and looked up at you, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

 “Waiting for what?”

 “For you to kill me.”

 You stared at him, and he did it right back. He grabbed your hand, holding it tightly, and raised it to his chest. “Can you hurry up?”

 “Awfully excited for your death, aren’t you? Get up.”

 “You’re gonna shoot me execution style?”

 “You’re making me want to.”

 He smiled, and you found yourself mirroring him. You noticed the bow of his lips, and the slope and button end of his nose. “You’re gonna have to help me out, you shot me in the foot remember?”

“But…” your voice trailed off took and you took out your scissors, and he gave you a look.

 “What’s that for?”

 “I need proof that I’ve killed you.” 

 He grimaced, running his fingers through his hair, “Okay, but not too much.”

 You bit your lip, holding in a laugh, “What a shame it would be if I..”

 He grabbed your hand, giving you a superficial dark look, “Don’t even think about it.” 

 You laughed a bit, cutting only a bit off and tucked the lock of hair in your pocket.

 He moved carefully off the bed, “It’d be nice to know the name of my knight in shining armor.”

 “______.”

 “______,” he echoed, “Pretty name.” He turned to face you, “Prettier face, though.”

 He smiled at you, and you avoided his gaze, walking to his door. You watched outside his door, sat him in a wheelchair, and quickly wheeled him out. “If you’d like to know,” he said as you wheeled him into the train station, “the gunshot was mostly superficial. Looks like you’re a bad shot.” He got up, slightly limping but stood smugly and licked his lips. 

 You crossed your arms, and tapped your fingers against your upper arm, “At least I got a shot in. Besides, I could’ve killed you if I wanted. Twice, actually.” 

 He walked closer, pushing your hair behind your ears, “Just teasing.”

 “Are you always this flirty with people who can kill you?”

 He laughed, “Sorry,” he grabbed your shoulders, “it’s just too easy.”

 He rocked on his heels absentmindedly and then winced when he remembered his ailment. He shook his hair out of his face. Both of you waited in silence, a ways apart, mulling over your own thoughts. You watched the wind blow the hair out of his face, and his earring dangle a bit more. 

 “You’re staying at my house. I checked for bugs, I couldn’t find any, so we’re probably fine.”

 He stared out the window and nodded. “Well, my gang’s basically out to hunt me so, glad you found me and not them.”

 He looked at you then, his eyes glassy and drooping. “Thank you.”

 You looked at him for a long time, and finally said, “You deserve to live.”

 For a long time, both of you just looked at each other, silent and ambiguous. “You look tired,” he patted his shoulder, “Let me be your peace.”

 “Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” you murmured, letting your head fall on his shoulder. You listened as the conductor called out the name of each stop. 

 You led him through a trail you and Hyunjin had marked behind your house when you were kids, you led Yugyeom through it, hissing at him to be careful and quiet. You had scouted it before, looking for anything that would make you have to look for an alternative route, but there was nothing. Finally, you got to the backdoor. 

 You opened the door, and who was sitting there, but Hyunjin himself.

 You were thankful you had made Yugyeom sit in a bush as you checked your house, but a fire arose from the pit of your stomach. “What are you here for?”

Hyunjin stood up and fixed his shirt, “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Cut the shit.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “You’re a part of the team. Just wanted to see if you’re able to perform as expected.”

 “Well, thanks. I’m at optimal performance, fuck off. I don’t report to you.”

His face grew darker, “Oh, but you do. I run this shit, don’t you forget it, _____.”

 “Yeah, when you had me to cover and protect your ass.”

 He sucked his teeth, smirking at you, and walked towards you. You stood your ground, looking him dead in the eye. He lifted your chin with thumb and index fingers, “Heartbreak hurts, darling. Get well soon. Good luck on the mission.”

 You hated him, god you hated him. 

 But you wanted him, more than anything.

 You waited until the door closed, and even then you watched him from the window to ensure he’d left. You met Yugyeom out back, and led him to your room, where he flopped down and rolled. “Isn’t your boyfriend going to be jealous that I’ll be staying here?”

 “He’s not my boyfriend.”

 Salt in the wound, huh.

 “Damn shame. He must be real stupid.”

 You shrugged, pulling off your jacket and throwing it onto the floor. “You have to tell me what you did.” 

 “I told the cops,” he said bluntly, “Just, the wrong ones.” He continued, looking up at the ceiling, “Man, I knew the Hwangs had an empire, but not like this.” 

 “You have no idea.” You laid on the bed, by his side, “Tomorrow, you need to keep a low profile. I can’t take you to work, so I can’t protect you.”

 “I can take care of it, you know. I’m not completely helpless.”

 You turned your head, to find him already looking at you.

 “But, who’s gonna protect you?”

[jasonsha77]

That's the gist of the tools I use when building gunpla. VRC tri-grit stick, a dollar store nail polishing block, a generic x-acto knife, Micro Mark nippers, DIY popsickle sticks with 1.5k and 2k wet/dry sandpaper (work better wet), and another set of the same with foam tape. Tweezers, diamond grit nail file, needle files in round, square, and half round. I use the half round the most, but everything has its uses at times. I also made a runner holder out of cardboard and hot glue. I don't buy into marketing, I find what works, and sometimes what I can use instead of the expensive stuff. Oh, and I have scissor arm desk lamp, I can put good light right where I want it.

[avidbeader]

Stickers into Magnets

So, I decided to get crafty this long weekend. I love a lot of stickers that my fandom merch people make and sell on their own websites or Redbubble because it’s an inexpensive way to collect favorite pieces if they don’t have a zine or offer postcards, etc. However, (1) other than my laptop I don’t really have anything I like to put stickers on and (2) I have a hard time committing to actually sticking the sticker and never being able to remove it. (Hence I often buy two of a sticker so I can keep one.)

Then I read a friend’s tweet mentioning that they were going to turn their stickers into magnets so they could display them without fear. That sounded like a good idea, so I watched a few tutorials, read a couple of blog entries, and decided to go for it.

(Lots of photos under the cut)

All of the instructions had the simple steps in common: get your magnet paper, stick as many stickers on a sheet as possible, then cut them out around the edges. The one video that went into more detail mentioned the need for some really good scissors, recommended an X-Acto knife for trimming, and went so far as to use 400-grit sandpaper to smooth the edges. That video also used a product called Diamond Glaze to create a hard glass-like layer over the sticker to protect it over time. She mentioned Mod Podge as a possible alternative, but one that she had not tried.

The first thing I did was shop online for magnet paper and Diamond Glaze, but it being a holiday weekend in the era of COVID-19, I couldn’t do much about buying some immediately. My husband and I had to make a Target run, and I thought maybe they might have magnet paper, but no such luck. I did find Mod Podge and some foam brushes.

But I was determined to try this ASAP and took a look at my fridge, covered in dozens of magnets. And I saw the Dilbert one. I don’t even remember when or how it came into our house - must have been decades ago - but given that Scott Adams has turned out to be a royal dick, I figured that this was a sacrifice worth making.

I chose a sticker from SinyDesigns as my experiment since it was closest in size to the magnet and wasn’t too detailed around the edges.

Step 1 - stick that sticker onto the magnet. Apply carefully so there aren’t any creases or air bubbles.

Step 2 - cut the magnet closely around the edges of the sticker. I had to do some shaving with the X-Acto knife in some places and tried the sanding step with the finer side of an emery board.

Step 3 - Adding a protective layer. The combo of Mod Podge and the first brush I found in the house wasn’t great. The brush was old and rough and as you can see, the result had all the brushstrokes in it.

Step 3a - I tried a second round of Mod Podge with the foam brush after the first round dried. While smoother, it didn’t get rid of the brushstrokes completely and produced a LOT of tiny bubbles that were impossible to pop with a needle and refused to be pushed off the edges without creating more.

Step 3b - I found a softer paintbrush the next day and tried one more time. Easily controllable bubbles, but still a brushstroke texture. I’m calling it quits on this one and waiting until I find a sealer that comes in a tube or squeeze bottle like the Diamond Glaze stuff before I try coating the magnets again.

However, if you don’t have light shining directly on it, the magnet looks fine. Certainly good enough for my fridge!

For Round Two, I went through my magnets and pulled down a few that were outdated or no longer necessary to repurpose:

The Keith/Shiro magnets are by RainlikeStars on Twitter, the 2020 one was a donation reward from AO3/OTW, and the last two are Promare stickers from @synnesai​. These all turned out great with minimal need for X-Acto trimming after the scissors:

So, once I have purchased my magnet paper, I will be going through my stickers and making lots more magnets! I’m looking forward to having a fandom fridge and may even end up getting some kind of magnetized whiteboard for display purposes if I run out of room on the fridge.

ETA: I just had a thought for anyone who wants to just use old magnets instead of buying magnet paper - if you glue a layer of plain paper thick enough to hide the magnet’s design, that can go between the magnet and the sticker and give you a solid background to work with and less issue with trimming edges.

[gomistore]

6 Great DIY Cardboard Cat Scratcher Plans to Try Today!

You’ve probably been meaning to go to the store to buy your cat a new scratcher, but it’s an easy thing to forget, as they aren’t everywhere. But perhaps, instead, you’ve realized that you might be able to make one at home yourself— and you’d be right! We rounded up some terrific plans that you can try, most of which won’t even require you to leave your house for supplies. Take a look and see which one sounds like the best idea for you.

My 6 Favorite DIY Cardboard Cat Scratcher Plans:

1. Dream a Little Bigger DIY Cardboard Cat Scratcher   Materials: Cardboard scraps Tools: Glue, craft knife, straight edge, glue, cut-resistant gloves Difficulty: Easy The Dream a Little Bigger DIY Cardboard Cat Scratcher is a straightforward project you can make in just a few minutes. It takes minimal materials, so you might not even have to make a trip to the store. The article walks you through the step-by-step process, showing you pictures to give you a visual guide. Essentially, you are creating a circular scratching surface that is glued together for your cat shredding pleasure. Making all those little cuts might be time-consuming, but we think the results are worthwhile. Heck, you may even enjoy the process! 2. Lizz @More Than Thursdays DIY Upcycled Cardboard Cat Scratcher   Materials: Cardboard scraps, adhesive shelf liner paper, catnip Tools: Foam brush, non-toxic glue, utility knife, straight edge, foam brush Difficulty: Moderate Lizz @More Than Thursdays offers this incredible little DIY Upcycled Cat Scratcher project for anyone to try out. This one required a few more supplies than some of the others on our list. But if you have the available resources and the time, this is a really fantastic option. We love how durable the end result is and the DIY itself is extremely easy to follow. The writer walks you through each step of the process, showing pictures along the way. Just be sure to use non-toxic glue for the adhesive to protect your cat. 3. Crafting a Green World Corrugated Cat Scratcher   Materials: Corrugated cardboard Tools: X-acto knife, glue, tape Difficulty: Easy Crafting a Green World Corrugated Cat Scratcher is a really cool concept of two tutorials in one. For the first tutorial, with the help of their gorgeous long-haired calico, they walk you through the process of making a circular and rectangular scratching pad. They explain how circular cardboard cat scratchers have different tension points than rectangular ones. We think that this is a really interesting project for somebody who lives in a multi-cat household, as it offers something to everyone. You can take full advantage of the tutorial for future reference as well, replacing the scratching pads as needed. It’s incredibly easy to follow, including step-by-step instructions with pictures included. We think any skill level would do well with this DIY. But since this one involves cutting cardboard, adult supervision is recommended for smaller children. 4. Purple House Blog DIY Cat Scratcher   Materials: Large cardboard box, cardboard pieces, catnip Tools: Box cutter, scissors Difficulty: Easy Purple House Blog DIY Cat Scratcher really drew us in thanks to their adorable feline model. With the help of this gorgeous tabby, the writer walks you through a DIY on how to make a rectangular cardboard cat scratcher. This DIY is very straightforward. It doesn’t require any glue or other messy components. It works terrifically if you’re wanting to put together a project with your kids, or if you just want to make a hassle-free creation. What makes this project really easy is that the base of the scratcher is already done for you as it is the length and width of the cardboard box. You just cut the cardboard pieces to size and then you can go to town. 5. The Instructables Cat Scratching Post   Materials: Cardboard, mortar, wall putty, washers, nuts, protection pads Tools: Drill, sanding block, sandpaper, wrench, pen, ruler, knife, metal cutting saw, trowel, rubber gloves Difficulty: Moderate/Advanced This DIY project might be the coolest one on our list today—it’s the Instructables Cat Scratching Post. It has a very charming aesthetic for being thrown together in the comfort of your own home. This one might require a little bit more patience to cut out all those cardboard squares, but the end result can definitely be worth it. Initially, you might have to pay for some cost upfront as not everyone has mortar on hand. However, once you get the supplies, this is a charming little cat scratching post to throw together that your kitty is sure to get plenty of enjoyment out of. This design has cardboard squares stacked in a cascade fashion with mortar binding together the top and bottom to keep everything together. You can get really fancy with this as well, painting it up or decorating it to fit your home stylings. If you’re looking for a more intricate project, this is definitely our top pick.

Upsides of Making Your Own Cardboard Cat Scratcher

When you go over the ideas you have about making your own cat scratcher, you might want to compare all the benefits to buying one that’s already made. As DIYers ourselves, we can’t find much of a downside except that it might just require a little more of your time than buying one online or at the store. Here are a couple of other things to consider. Saving Money If you were constantly replacing cardboard cat scratchers, it can get a little expensive. Store-bought cardboard cat scratchers might not last as long as he would like for the price. If you can make your own cat scratcher at home using boxes you already have, you really are saving a few bucks a month in the long run.

Image credit: Glr0115, Unsplash Recycling Boxes You’re going to need something to do with all of those boxes you’ve been getting these past few months that you keep meaning to toss away. If you are a big fan of online shopping, you can put those FedEx packages to good use. Reusing boxes instead of tossing them away is a perfect way to upcycle an already existing material. Occupying Cats Some cats can get bored quite easily. Having homemade cat scratchers around ensures that your cat always has something that can keep them busy. Plus, it gives them a variety of textures to shred and promotes healthy exercise. Ultimately, you’re doing your cat a favor. Creativity Boost Sometimes you just have to get out your glue gun and go to town. If you’re a naturally crafty person, you can really feed your creative side by making basic items that you have at home. And a project this simple is a great way to get children involved too. It’s something simple that they can follow along with under your instruction. Of course, children should never have any type of adhesive unattended.

Conclusion

We hope you found a DIY project on this list that seems doable for you. You could even make all five if you’re feeling up for it to give your cat a little bit of variety and to have a few extra on hand. This is a very inexpensive way to make sure that your cat gets the appropriate exercise they need without letting them use your trim or table legs. Featured Image Credit: FOX, Pexels About the author

Cat mom to Ivy – a feisty little rescue kitten that is her one and only child. For now! Throughout her life, she has been introduced to the special love that can be found in the bond with a cat. Having owned multiple felines, she is more than certain that their love is unmatched, unconditional and unlike any other. With a passion to educate the public about everything, there is to know about felines, their behavior, and their unique personalities, Crystal is devoted to making sure that all cats and their owners know the importance of conscious living – and loving! Read the full article

[artbyelana]

Canvas Stretching Workshop

Week 3 Workshops

Notes from workshop:

Tools - staple gun, canvas pliers, staple pullers, stretcher bars, canvas, scissors, square, sandpaper. 

Cedar - stable and usually warp resistant

Reverse stretch - gesso back of canvas

Stainless steel 8mm staples

Put stretcher bars together

Sand canvas corners before wrapping canvas to stop rips

About an inch into middle over bar of spare canvas

Staple in middle of each of the 4 sides (should create a ridge and then a diamond once all 4 sides are complete)

Then pull the corners tight and staple

If it’s portrait then start stretching the long edges first - short edges for a landscape

Use stretcher just over lip to pull canvas tight, then 2 x stapes to the corner

Try not to pull or stretch where there are already staples

Pull the 4 corner staples out

Stretch top and then bottom

Pinch and fold corners - make sure no canvas over the sides

Can cut spare fabric inside the bars once all finished

I’ve been wanting to do this workshop for ages so I really enjoyed learning all about it today! Mine turned out really good, It was super interesting and honestly not as hard as I thought. In the long run it’s probably cheaper  and more reliable to be making and stretching my own canvases...

[beardycarrot]

A few people have asked me what kind of things you need to buy to get started with 3D printing. All you really need is the printer and filament, but I figured I would go over some of the tools I have and what they’re used for.

I don’t think I need to explain the utility of the scissors, so let’s start with what’s next to them: a digital caliper. This is used to accurately measure the physical dimensions of things (down to a tenth of a millimeter), which is useful when you need to design something to match exact specifications. To the left are three tools for removing prints from the build surface: a small offset spatula-like one, literally just a putty knife, and a long one for larger prints. You’ll probably only need one of these (most printers come with the putty knife), but there are plenty of options out there.

If you want to ensure that your nozzle stays clean, I’d recommend using a brash brush, though you may need to cut the bristles down a little if they’re too long. I also like to use a nylon brush to clean up prints after they’ve been sanded.

Speaking of sanding, a hobby sander is a great addition to any 3D printer’s tool kit. This one is Gator brand, and comes with 80, 120, and 220 grit sandpaper. Using something like a rotary tool with a sanding bit may seem tempting, but trust me, the friction generated is more than enough to start melting the plastic.

Spring-loaded snips are used for cutting filament (usually snipping off the end of a spool to load it into the printer more easily), and are something most printers will come with. I use the pliers for all kinds of things, but they’re most frequently used for removing support material.

Needle files! These can be used to reach areas that are tricky even for folded sandpaper, or to file specific shapes (half-circles, right angles) into a print. I don’t know how much use you would get out of them, but they’re cheap enough that you can buy them for one print, and not feel bad if you don’t use them very often.

These Octave-brand cutting tools get more use than anything else in this post (except maybe the putty knife), since every print will need to be cleaned up to some degree. These are used to trim off excess plastic from where the print was attached to the build surface, remove defects, round off sharp corners, refine small details like engraved text... Anything you need plastic cut off of your model for, these are the tools for the job.

HOWEVER, no crafting tool kit is complete without X-Acto knives. Sometimes, you just need a thinner, sharper blade, y’know? While probably not really necessary for any print, these things are so useful for so many different things that you should probably keep them around anyway.

I’m no 3D printing expert, so there are probably a lot of great tools out there that I don’t know about, but I think this covers most of the basic things the average person might find useful.

[nasaleverything]

This was taken from Sharon Ganske's book

Apply a thin coat of decoupage to lid top and place card in position. Repeat process for remaining ultra-suede strip on other side of box. Using a ruler and an X-acto knife, cur greeting card to fit top of box. Using industrial strength glue, glue musical movement inside box, making sure winding-key shaft is centered in hole. Allow to dry thoroughly.Step Three: Using an old paintbrush, apply a thin layer of decoupage to box and sides of lid, working an area about 3" square at a time. Allow to dry thoroughly. Using scissors, cut corners of ultra-suede strip on a 45-degree angle. 

De'coupage Sandpaper Wood SealerDecorative Accessories for Music BoxAssortment of stamps Greeting card or postcard with traveling Nasal Sprayers Factory photo 2 brown ultra-sued strips, ½" wide X 16 ½" long 2 buckles, ½" 4 brass corner brackets, 5/8" Hasp catch, 1 ¾ X 5/8" Small padlockAcrylic Paint Color: Blue-grayAdhesives and Spray Sealer:Industrial strength glue Tacky glue Gloss spray sealerTools and Brushes:Drill with ¼" drill bit Hammer Old paintbrushes Paintbrush Ruler Scissors X-acto knifeStep-By-Step AssemblyStep One: Using sandpaper, sand box. Allow to dry thoroughly." 

This was taken from Sharon Ganske's book, "Making Marvelous Music Boxes". Stamps should be placed over opening between lid and box-it will be cut open later.Making your own music box can be a fun craft activity for a rainy day, lazy summer day, or really anytime! Why not take the plunge, and make one today?. Slide a buckle on and make a small hole to accomodate the stem of the buckle at center 1" from the end.Step Five: Using the X-Acto knife, carefully cut opening between box and lid, starting at the back.Step Six: Drill a ¼" hole at center back of box ¾" from bottom.Step Seven: Carefully hammer corner brackets on box. 

Place stamps on box and lid sides, overlapping them as desired. Turn the box back-side down, center hasp catch, and carefully hammer in nails.Step Two: Using a paintbrush, paint box inside and outside with blue-gray acrylic paint. Fill your box with favorite vacation photos.Step Four: Using an old paintbrush, apply a thin layer of Tacky glue to wrong side of one ultra-suede strip. Using an old paintbrush, apply wood sealer to box following manufacturer's directions