#rectangular plastic containers

[packwaresblog]

RECTANGULAR PLASTIC CONTAINERS WITH LIDS FOR FOOD

Discover our durable rectangular plastic containers with lids, perfect for food storage and meal prep. Leak-proof and BPA-free, they keep your food fresh and organized.

[jackietaylorssidehoe]

If you bring a bag and a lunch box to school you're a little weirdo

[navigatorsghost]

The question of what shape soup is, is now bothering me way more than it ought to.

i was about to talk shit on how impractical round food storage containers are when fridges are square but if we didn't have them then where would soup go? certainly not a square container

[yueyimold]

multi shot food conservation box mold

China 2k mold maker, offer 2 component fresh keep box, gyratory mold plastic storage for refrigerator, multi shot food conservation box, 2 color rectangular food container

[cyberqueenpatrol]

NEIGHBOUR!GHOST X FEM!READER

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the orange, red and pink spread in the sky in all hues and shades. The shining round figure in the never-ending sky cast its soft rays on your summer dress and you, as you basked on the soft soil and the grass in your front yard shone underneath the changing sky. Riley, your neighbour's humongous and ever lively German Shepherd, was busy trying to catch a butterfly, but soon abandoned his mission and found a comfortable place on your thighs to lay down with a stubborn nudge on your elbow, indicating that he now wanted caresses and cuddles from you.

Soon, the empyrean began to reflect its darker colours. But there was a much darker in farther distance as you maintained your sitting position on the cool earth-

Simon 'Ghost' Riley. Your inscrutable, obscure, ever hidden from the counsel-hungry throng around him neighbour.

After all, for some unknown reason from his side, you were the only person here to know his real name.

Simon walked to your figure that was cradling Riley in your soft, plush thighs. He gradually kneeled beside you, but took a one-second decision to sit down, his head tilted to look at the ever relaxed Riley.

"Looks like someone's got more mellow over the past few days, eh?"

Simon grunted and chuckled, as Riley caught the scent of his beloved master and soon Riley was sitting upright, his tail wagging contently. You pat him gently, appreciating his loyalty and boisterous nature.

"No wonder. It would be a lie if I forget to tell you that he has been a great help around the house. And a wonderful companion too."

You giggle, and the sound of your voice soothed Simon more than ever, along with the calm atmosphere around him. It somewhat felt like home, if not entirely. Yes, no wonder Riley had grown to be so chilled out.

"A small token,uhh.........to thank ya for yer help."

Simon said in a slightly hushed voice, as he held out a rectangular plastic container of your favourite strawberry jam and cream tarts towards you, with his eyes having a little, unknown, sparkling tinge in them. Boy, you literally sat up straight, just like Riley, but that was due to you being so flushed about the generous and kind act.

"That's so thoughtful of you,Simon, but it wasn't really needed. I had a lot of fun with Riley and-"

Simon interrupted you in his not-so-usually-used gentle tone, softly shoving the box of tarts in your hands.

"Can get a small, pretty gift for a pretty lass, can't I?"

"I absolutely love it, Simon. Thank you..........thank you so much."

In that same instance, a harsh, screeching voice of a man that could break the glass of the windows called out your name, causing you to flinch with chills running down your spine and a clear frightened look on your face.

Your husband.

Such an undeserving man he was, that too when he had a pretty stunner like you. Always talking to you in a disgusting tone. Never had seen him hugging or kissing you lovingly like a husband should. Always treated you like a servant, rather than a wife. Roamed about in the neighbourhood acting like a 15 year old playboy, thought Simon.

But here you were. Always being a loyal, chaste and loving wife for him. Always making him delicious lunches before going to work. Always cooking vast meals for your husband after work. Always waited for him to come back home from his usual rambles at the local strip club, for dinner, sometimes you not even eating while you waited for him. And yesterday he even pushed you off the stairs when he was drunk, leading you to beating the shit out of him a little, but you could not do much in front your husband's buff stature.

"Looks like I have to take my leave now. See you later, Simon", you say hurriedly in your unusually hushed tone. As you turned towards your house, the bruise on your elbow from your fall from the stairs did not go unnoticed by Simon.

"What about 'his?", he grunted a bit aggressively, silently taking your bruised elbow in his much calloused fingers. He stared at it for a while, something revengeful and dark was seething in his eyes.

"Oh! It's nothing, just scraped myself while moving about, you kno-", you squeaked, as you looked back at your house.

"Don't be afraid to ring up, if anything's wrong, hmm?", his voice rattled out a soothing tone, but it did have a hint of worry and possessiveness.

You nod, hurrying to take up your job as a wife again, towards your much ungrateful husband, leaving the dark figure with its ĺoyal companion in your lonely backyard.

Next evening

Simon's old jeep sped on the busy streets of the city, occasionally halting on the much crowded crossroads. But he caught something different in the corner of the panoramic view given by his eyes.

You.

Standing there on the pavement in a baby blue formal shirt with its first button undone, jet black high waisted trousers and your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. Not to mention you looked quite cute in them, according to Simon. God's gonna forsake him for looking at your doughy tits that carved out their curves through the shirt.

You were looking much eager and stressed to go home as you tried to flag down a cab. All because of your stupid husband, bet Simon would never do that if you were his wifey.

His car screeched in front your spot on the pavement, startling you like you were gonna shoot off from your ass or something.

"Got ya gobsmacked, sweetheart?", he grunted with a playful smirk on his much scarred face. His almost carved biceps on the wheel, goddammit,they were big as your face, but hey! You are MARRIED!

"Oh Simon, it's you! God, you hit the brakes like a train in front of me!", you sighed, clutching your handbag. Boy, you would be lying if you didn't check him out just now.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Wanted to give ya a ride back home. You wanna hop in?",that was just like him, straight to the point. He did chuckle as he ended the sentence. No,no,no, you aren't going to think about his thick calves hugged by the sweatpants, no,no, but goddammit

"Oh! Sure, why not? Thank you, Si, I really didn't want to take the busy metro right now", you said as you made a roundabout to the passenger seat. Simon's eyes never left your curved figure, especially the outline of your little tummy bulge peeking through the tight black trousers. He couldn't help but bite the inside of his cheek to stop smirking in appreciation of your plushy figure,that he wanted to grab so bad and so good.

You made yourself comfortable on the passenger seat as you swung the door to close and clicked in the seat belt. Simon saw it all, from meticulous swirl of your fingers on the door handle to the soft pushing of your ass into the seat. It would be great sin if he lied that his knuckles didn't turn white grabbing the steering wheel.

"Ready to hit the road, Si?", you ask sweetly. Your voice softly pierces through his haze that he had watching you. His eyes were stuck on you like glue, and you looked and blinked at him for a second.

"Born ready", he let out half laugh and a half breath.

The rest of the ride back home went smoothly, with you much politely asking him about his deadly getaways, and him nonchalantly giving humorous replies in a while.

You didn't notice for some time but it was raining pretty hard. You could see the light through the window of your house through glossy, wet window of the car.

"Wanna stay back for a while for tea, Si?", you voice drenched in sugar, honey and whatever sweet things out in the world. No wonder Simon had a sweet tooth for a pretty thing like you.

"Never gonna reject tha'", Simon grunted softly, as he pulled over the car in your garage.

You stepped off the vehicle while Simon watched how your curves motioned from the seat, how your unblemished hands smoothed your trousers that hugged your plushy thighs perfectly. Boy, he just wanted his hands on them, only once.

He followed your footsteps towards the door. As you rattled the keys in the lock, bending down a little and giving a supple view of your round ass to Simon so good that he clenched his jaw and knuckles till it hurt, you ask him about Riley's recent adventures. He chuckled and replied,

"Lad has been missin' ya since day one",

You giggle as he finishes his sentence, swing the door open

only to see the most heart breaking and devastating scene before your eyes

Part 2 incoming!

[teaboot]

Trick or treat!

You receive SESAME SNAPS!

A navy and clear plastic package containing a wide rectangular cracker made of sesame seeds. They are a small stack of 3 thin, brittle, and sweet crackers made of sesame seeds glued together with honey that remains slightly tacky forever. They are GLUTEN-FREE, PEANUT-FREE, and VEGAN

[transgenderer]

A jitsuin (実印) is an officially registered seal. A registered seal is needed to conduct business and other important or legally binding events. A jitsuin is used when purchasing a vehicle, marrying, or purchasing land, for example.

The size, shape, material, decoration, and lettering style of jitsuin are closely regulated by law. For example, in Hiroshima, a jitsuin is expected to be roughly 1⁄2 to 1 inch (1.3 to 2.5 cm), usually square or (rarely) rectangular but never round, irregular, or oval. It must contain the individual's full family and given name, without abbreviation. The lettering must be red with a white background (shubun), with roughly equal width lines used throughout the name. The font must be one of several based on ancient historical lettering styles found in metal, woodcarving, and so on. Ancient forms of ideographs are commonplace. A red perimeter must entirely surround the name, and there should be no other decoration on the underside (working surface) of the seal. The top and sides (handle) of the seal may be decorated in any fashion from completely undecorated to historical animal motifs, dates, names, and inscriptions.

Throughout Japan, rules governing jitsuin design are very stringent and each design is unique, so the vast majority of people entrust the creation of their jitsuin to a professional, paying upward of US$20 and more often closer to US$100, and using it for decades. People desirous of opening a new chapter in their lives—say, following a divorce, death of a spouse, a long streak of bad luck, or a change in career—will often have a new jitsuin made.

The material is usually a high quality hard stone or, far less frequently, deerhorn, soapstone, or jade. It is sometimes carved by machine. When carved by hand, an intō ("seal-engraving blade"), a mirror, and a small specialized wooden vice are used. An intō is a flat-bladed pencil-sized chisel, usually round or octagonal in cross-section and sometimes wrapped in string to give a better grip. The intō is held vertically in one hand, with the point projecting from the carver's fist on the side opposite the thumb. New, modern intō range in price from less than US$1 to US$100.

The jitsuin are kept in secure places such as bank vaults. or hidden in a home. They are usually stored in thumb-sized rectangular boxes made of cardboard covered with embroidered green fabric outside and red silk or red velvet inside, held closed by a white plastic or deerhorn splinter tied to the lid and passed through a fabric loop attached to the lower half of the box. Because of the superficial resemblance to coffins, they are often called "coffins" in Japanese by enthusiasts and hanko boutiques. The paste is usually stored separately.

A ginkō-in (銀行印) is used specifically for banking; ginkō means "bank". A person's savings account passbook contains an original impression of the ginkō-in alongside a bank employee's seal. Rules for the size and design vary somewhat from bank to bank; generally, they contain a Japanese person's full name. A Westerner may be permitted to use a full family name with or without an abbreviated given name, such as "Smith", "Bill Smith", "W Smith" or "Wm Smith" in place of "William Smith". The lettering can be red or white, in any font, and with artistic decoration.

Since mass-produced ginkō-in offer no security, most people either have them custom-made by professionals or make their own by hand. They were traditionally made of wood or stone; more recently of ivory, plastic or metal, and carried in a variety of thumb-shape and -size cases resembling cloth purses or plastic pencil cases. They are usually hidden carefully in the owner's home.

A mitome-in (認印) is a moderately formal seal typically used for signing for postal deliveries, signing utility bill payments, signing internal company memos, confirming receipt of internal company mail, and other low-security everyday functions.

Mitome-in are commonly stored in low-security, high-utility places such as office desk drawers and in the anteroom (genkan) of a residence.

A mitome-in's form is governed by fewer customs than jitsuin and ginkō-in. However, mitome-in adhere to a handful of strongly observed customs. The size is the attribute most strongly governed by social custom. It is usually not more than 20 millimetres (0.79 in) in size. A man's is usually slightly larger than a woman's, and a junior employee's is always smaller than his bosses' and his senior co-workers', in keeping with office social hierarchy. The mitome-in always has the person's family name and usually does not have the person's given name (shita no namae). Mitome-ins are often round or oval, but square ones are not uncommon, and rectangular ones are not unheard-of; irregular shapes are not used. They can produce red lettering on a blank field (shubun) or the opposite (hakubun). Borderlines around their edges are optional.

Plastic mitome-in in popular Japanese names can be obtained from stationery stores for less than US$1, though ones made from inexpensive stone are also very popular. Inexpensive prefabricated seals are called sanmonban (三文判). Rubber stamps are unacceptable for business purposes.

[jasperthehatchet]

Buttons!! I found all these in a button bag at the thrift store for like 3 bucks. They're perfect for some solarpunk clothing projects I wanna do

They're mostly wood, coconut shell and metal, and a few plastic ones and they're all so beautiful. I wanted to post them just cause I like sharing my treasures and shinies <3

[Image ID: The first image is of 8 coconut shell buttons, a large hexagon shaped one with a flower design carved into the darker side, and a large circular one with curvy lines carved into the lighter side. The rest are smaller circular buttons with no designs. One side of each button is dark brown and the other side is light brown. All buttons in this image are two-hole buttons.

The 2nd image is of three buttons. The large hexagon one from the first image, and two large plastic buttons, a little bigger than a quarter. One black button with an anchor and some rope carved into it and a simple dark brown one with a stitched design on the outer rim of the button. Both plastic buttons are four-hole buttons

The 3rd image is of 14 wooden two-hole buttons, all the same size (size of a penny). They are a variety of rainbow colors and patterns, some with psychedelic designs. Some of them have the same design

The 4th image contains four large wooden two-hole buttons with the same size and design. There are cherry blossom branch designs burned into the wood.

The 5th image has two rectangular wooden shank buttons (shank buttons have no holes, they have a plastic, metal or wood loop on the back). One is green with peas on the front and the other is red with an eggplant, both are designed like packets of seeds. Almost an inch tall and half an inch wide

The 6th image is a variety of metal shank buttons in various sizes. A set of two large aged brass colored ones with an intricate sun design, a small brass one with a different intricate sun design, a large aged silver one with wildflowers and a butterfly on it, a small brass one with simple leaf designs on it, a small copper colored button with a tree of life, a shiny silver one with intricate geometric designs (hard to describe) and a set of two small hexagon shaped silver buttons with a smaller hexagon in the middle and black swirly lines outside of the smaller hexagon (my favorite ones)

The final image is of a variety of simple smaller buttons. A simple green resin four-hole one with subtle swirls, a few different flat metal buttons woth no designs, two two-hole buttons that have a silver middle and a clear resin rim, a large two-hole copper colored button made of shell, a small brown plastic button with a single 3D leaf design on the front and a blue wooden star shaped button with two holes. End of ID]

I really hope this image ID is sufficient please let me know in the comments or reblogs if there's anything I should edit or fix 💚

[palesweetsdeer]

”Cardinal”

A small ficlet about Phil and Cowbell discovering Copia’s birth certificate. This is very stupid and very short but I like it. I’ve decided to cross post my ficlets on Tumblr, although I will keep the NSFW stuff on Ao3 only.

————

“Bell put that down”, Phil instructs, lashing his tail In annoyance. 

Cowbell scoffs at him and drops the snow globe back into the carton. 

“Sorry. But do you think he really needs that? A snow globe? Since when does Copia give a shit about stuff like that?” 

Phil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, picking up one of the carton boxes and marching towards the door. 

The Ministry is bustling with people today. After Sister Imperator's death a lot had changed around the halls. The chapel had been remodeled, they had gotten new altars and they had hired a new gardener who helped the earth ghouls with keeping the lawns in check. Most importantly though, they had a new leader: Frater Imperator. Phil still thought it was weird to call him that. 

Copia didn't look like a Frater to him, but who was he to judge. 

They were currently relocating Copia's stuff into his new office, which was still in construction. The ‘unemployed' ghouls, aka Cowbell and Phil, had to help. They really didn't do much else anyway. Phil worked in PR, together with Tobias, but Cowbell… He had no other job than to appear on some shows and when there were none… he was redundant and hung around the den all the time. 

Both of them weren't as high ranking as any other ghoul, which led to many chores, that would normally be taken care of by Siblings of Sin, being passed onto them.

“Maybe it's important to him. I already told you to stop looking through his stuff! You could get punished for that. You wanna get sent back to the pits?”, Phil snarls and he sees the way Cowbell bristles.

His hackles rise and he lashes his tail, sending Phil an irritated look. 

“Don't say that”, he grumbles and moves to catch up to Phil, his hooves clacking on the marble floor.

“It's the truth though. I'm just looking out for you”, Phil murmurs and flicks his boney tail to wrap around Cowbell's tassel in a gentle, apologetic squeeze.

They walk in silence, moving through the corridors and long hallways, greeting the people they come across, who seem just as busy and stressed as them. 

When they finally arrive at Imperator’s office, Phil pushes the door open with his shoulders and looks around. 

The whole place is a mess. Plastic banners hang from the walls, protecting them from the paint on the newly decorated ceiling. There’s buckets with brushes, spatulas and other tools all over the place and the furniture is pushed up in one corner next to the fireplace, also covered in plastic. The entire room reeks of novelty and unfamiliarity. 

Phil wrinkles his nose and puts his box down next to the covered desk. 

“Woah”, Cowbell comments, staring up at the high, rounded ceiling. He twirls around in a circle and walks into the middle of the room to take it all in, mouth hanging open in awe. “This is so cool!” 

Phil looks over and feels his lips quirk up to a small smile. 

“Yeah, they did a good job, I suppose.“ He points to his own carton on the floor. “Just put your stuff down here and let's go, we still have plenty more boxes to go.” 

Cowbell nods to him and saunters over, crouching down to set his container on the floor.  Phil stretches his arms over his head and rolls the sleeves of his jacket up over his elbows, cracking his back. 

“Mmm~ If everything goes well, we’ll be done this evening-”

”No way!” 

Phil flinches and turns around and blinks at Cowbell, who’s pulled out a rectangular piece of paper from the box he’d been carrying. The PR manager squints and walks closer. 

“The fuck is that?”, he asks and crouches down next to the taller ghoul. 

Cowbell grins and waves the scrap of paper in front of his face. It looks important but Phil can’t read the small scribbles on it. He curses under his breath and pulls out his glasses, squinting to get a closer look. 

“Copia’s fucking birth certificate.” 

Phil looks at him in disbelief. 

“No.” 

“Yes!” 

Phil blinks in confusion and when the words finally register, he grabs the piece of paper and rips it from Cowbell’s hand. 

“Shit- Why do you have that?! You shouldn’t touch that!” 

Cowbell yelps and scrambles to get the certificate back, pushing his hand into Phil’s face to distract him. Phil hisses and bites at the ghoul’s fingers but is pushed over with a simple shove, the page getting snatched out of his hand. Once more he’s reminded just how much stronger than him Cowbell is.

“Gimme. This is some quality shit, look!”, Cowbell grabs his collar and pulls him up again, pushing the paper right into his face and tapping his index claw against the line with the name. ”Read it, Phil!” 

Phil bristles and wants to protest again but then his eyes catch a few of the letters and he can’t help but read the whole thing. He pauses and flicks his tail in confusion, furrowing his brow. 

“What-? Cardinal..? His name’s fucking-”

”Cardinal ’Copia’ and then a blacked out last name!”, Cowbell howls, grinning wide enough to have his fangs bore into his lower lip. “That’s his name! His legal fucking name is Cardinal! Hahah!” 

Sputtering in disbelief, Phil takes the certificate and reads through it. He frowns deeper, his tail curling around his foot in concentration. 

“He was born in Italy… 1970. ‘70? He’s 54 years old?? Wow, he doesn’t look like it at all…” 

“And he was fat!”, Cowbell points at the physical details. 

Phil hisses and swats at the ghoul’s horn, tugging at it in a scolding manner. 

“10 pounds isn’t fat.” 

“But it’s not average either! The average baby boy should weigh 7 pounds at birth~”, he snickers and then whines a little when Phil bites at his cheek. 

“Mind your manners, Bell”, he murmurs but continues to read nonetheless. “It doesn't state a father and no last names either… how weird.” 

“And no hospital. It just says ‘Italy’.” 

Phil shrugs. 

“Maybe he was born at home..?” 

“Maybe. And you… you don’t find this funny at all?”, Cowbell points at the name again. 

Phil looks at him. The ghoul is smiling widely, clearly barely suppressing a laugh. Phil sighs and then nods, his lips quirking into a grin. 

“Yes, it’s funny.” 

“IT’S SO FUCKING FUNNY, COME ON! His name’s fucking ‘Cardinal Copia’! Hahah!” 

Phil can’t help but snicker a little, holding a hand in front of his face to stifle his noises. Cowbell doesn't seem to give a shit and throws his head back, howling with laughter. 

They cower next to each other, giggling for a while until a low voice sounds from behind them. 

“Ghouls. Something funny?” 

Phil shrieks and flinches, instinctively throwing the birth certificate back into the box. He jumps up and straightens his pants, turning around to face Mr. Psaltarian. 

“No, Sir. We’re taking care of… relocating Frater Imperator’s belongings”, he explains, doing his best to keep the tremble out of his voice. 

Cowbell doesn’t say anything. He remains, crouching on the floor, his tail twitching nervously, hackles rising. 

Psaltarian cocks his head and raises a brow. 

“I see. Is this everything?”, he asks, pointing at the two small boxes with the tip of his shoe. 

Phil shakes his head. 

“No, Sir. We still have a few more to take care of.” 

The man nods and steps out of the doorframe to give them space. 

“You shouldn’t waste time then, should you?” 

“No, Sir, of course not.” 

Phil grabs Cowbell by the hand, tugs him to his feet and hurries him out of the room, both of them nodding respectfully to Psaltarian as they pass by him. Phil’s heart is thumping against his ribs as they rush down the halls like little kids getting caught doing something forbidden. Which… was basically what had happened. 

He only allows himself to relax once they’re a few corridors away and he can’t smell Psaltarian anymore. 

“What a buzzkill”, Cowbell mutters and stretches his neck. “Fuck…”, his lips twitch into a grin. “Cardinal-“ 

Phil whacks him across the back of the head but can’t quite stop himself from smiling.  

[animationnut]

Cleaning Up Your Messes

Day 2: Sibling Bonds

Ao3 link

...

Fingers tapping a rhythm against his ceramic coffee mug, Carl reviewed the mission briefings he had just typed out, ensuring he had not forgotten any important details. When he finished proofreading, he saved the file and sent it to Monogram. Though he knew the man would give it only a fleeting glance, he prided himself on his thoroughness.

Carl sipped his lukewarm coffee and was about to move on to his next task when his cell phone trilled, vibrating against his desk with each ring. He glanced at the caller ID, his brow furrowing in confusion at his sister’s picture displayed on the screen.

“What’s up?” he answered.

“Carl, I need your help.”

Carla spoke in a whisper, and alarm filled Carl’s body. “What’s wrong?” he asked urgently. “Are you out in the field?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Carla quickly. “I broke the photocopier.”

“Oh.” The tension fled from his body as quickly as it had come. “That’s it? You scared me for a second. That’s no big deal. You just gotta kick the bottom right-hand corner and it should fix literally any problem. There should be an indent from Peter the Panda’s paw.”

“I broke your photocopier.”

“But I don’t have a—” Eyes tripling in size, Carl launched to his feet as he realized what his sister meant. “No. Carla, please do not tell me you’re talking about the state-of-the-art photocopier that arrived last week.”

“Yes,” said Carla nervously. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

“Do not move, I will be right there.”

Carl hung up and darted out of his cubicle, speed-walking down the carpeted corridor. Agents made noises of greeting as he passed, and Carl hoped his smile did not reflect the panic he was experiencing.

He reached the copy room and slipped inside, locking the door behind him. “Carla!” he shrieked, jaw dropping at the ink spewing out of the machine.

His twin raised her hands in defense. “I swear I don’t know what happened!” she cried. “Agent Pinky needed a dozen copies of the Agent Device Inventory List, and then…this happened!”

“This doesn’t just happen out of nowhere,” retorted Carl, frantically approaching the hissing photocopier. He dodged the globs of black ink and squinted at the feeder, spotting a clump of papers trapped halfway through.

He unplugged the machine, causing the grinding gears to screech to a halt. He sent a flat look to Carla, who grinned sheepishly. “Oops. That would have been the smart thing to do right away, huh?”

“Stating the obvious,” grumbled Carl. He gingerly opened the hatch to the ink and toner bottles, groaning in dismay at the black sludge coating the plastic containers.

“The ink was coming out super faint,” said Carla with a shrug. “I was trying to see if it needed replacing. Clearly not.”

“Okay.” Carl dragged a hand down his face. “We need a bucket with warm water, dish soap, a tool box, and several rags.”

Carla struck a salute so perfect Carl could not help but be proud. “I’m on it!”

“Do not tell anyone about the photocopier,” said Carl sternly. “You have no idea how long it took me to convince Major Monogram to replace our 80s dinosaur with this beauty. If he finds out you busted it within a week of us having it, he’ll blow a gasket.”

Carla nodded and darted out of the room. Carl locked the door behind her and slid down against the wood, coming to rest against the linoleum floor with a weary sigh. He swept his gaze over the rectangular space, taking in the ink splatters against the white walls and packets of printer paper stored on metal shelving units.

The doorknob rattled, causing Carl to nearly jump out of his skin. A confused growl sounded from behind the metal, and he felt the door bulge with the force of Barry the Bear as the animal pushed up against it.

“Sorry, Agent B!” said Carl quickly. “I’m, uh, not feeling well and made a bit of a mess in here.”

He had learned that his voice stayed normal when he spoke half-truths instead of an outright lie. He was definitely feeling sick with anxiety, and there was definitely a mess.

Barry made of noise of concern. “I’m okay, really,” Carl insisted. “I just need a few minutes and then I’ll be out of your way. Take a coffee break!”

There was a brief pause, and he nearly wheezed with relief as heavy footsteps started down the hallway. He rubbed at his chest and straightened. He walked over to the copier and started removing the paper that wasn’t tightly packed into the feeder. He crumpled it into balls and tossed it into the recycling bin stationed beside the machine.

“Hurry, Carla,” he muttered. “You know I don’t deal well with stress.”

He had just pried out the last of the accessible paper when there was a soft knock at the door. “Carl?” his sister whispered.

He hurried over, unlocked the door, and ushered his twin inside the room before securing the door behind her. “Okay, I’m going to take out the feeder tray so I can remove the rest of the paper jam,” Carl spoke, taking the red toolbox from Carla’s arms. “You start cleaning up the ink.”

They worked together in tandem. Carla left a trail of sudsy circles as she mopped up the ink with a rag. A collection of screws gathered beside Carl as he meticulously removed them. “What’s going to happen if you can’t fix it?” asked Carla nervously.

“I’m never going to hear the end of it from Major Monogram, and he’s going to put me on pooper scooper duty for the rest of the summer,” Carl said tensely. “I have been begging him for a state-of-the-art photocopier since my second week of working here. I’ve drawn up finance plans, I’ve presented Power Points, I’ve drafted about two dozen spreadsheets, all in an attempt to convince him that it would actually be more cost-effective and energy efficient to upgrade our machinery.

“Two weeks ago, he finally got sick and tired of our ancient copier going on the fritz. He told me to go ahead and purchase a modern model. Carla, I squealed when this beauty arrived. After telling me not to embarrass him in front of the delivery guy, Major Monogram told me that if this machine did not last the rest of his lifetime, he was going to have my hide. And look what you’ve done, Carla!”

Carl dropped his screwdriver in frustration, the metal clatter echoing in the confined space. Carla scowled. “Hey! It was an accident!”

“It’s always an accident!” snapped Carl, fully removing the feeder tray and starting to wiggle out the remaining pieces of letter-sized paper. “Breaking Mr. Tripp’s mailbox was an accident—”

“I was ten!” cried Carla. “I didn’t know rolling a watermelon down our driveway would be destructive! What does Mr. Tripp’s mailbox have to do with anything?”

“Because every time you break something, I have to fix it. Sometimes I don’t even think you try to be careful.”

“Wow, okay, sounds like you’ve been bottling up some stuff,” said Carla, hurt bubbling in her heart. She straightened and let her ink-streaked rag plop to the floor. “I didn’t realize helping me was such a burden on you.”

Carl snapped his gaze towards his sister. “We don’t use that word,” he said sharply. “And that’s not true.”

“It sure sounds like it,” said Carla, her fingers clenching into her white dress. “Maybe I don’t always think things through. But we spent five years being careful because of him, so I think you’ll understand why I give myself the freedom to be bit reckless in safe spaces.”

Carl couldn’t remember the last time his sister mentioned their father. They didn’t talk about him, for very good reasons, and guilt surged hot and sour in his stomach. He went to her side, engulfing her in a hug, and Carla let the few tears she was holding back drip down her freckled cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” said Carl quietly. “I’m frustrated and I’m taking it out on you, and that’s not fair.”

“It’s maybe a tiny bit fair,” conceded Carla with a sniff, “since I did mess up your machine after just a week.”

“I don’t even know how you managed to make the ink gush out like that.”

Carla laughed. “That makes two of us.”

“You’re not a burden, Carla, and you never have been. I never want to make you feel that way, and I’m sorry if I have.”

His voice hitched and Carla hugged him tightly. “You didn’t, I promise.”

“I’ll always be your safe space.”

“And you’ll always be mine.”

There was a click and the twins froze as the copier room door swung up, banging hard against the wall.

“Carl, are you—?”

Monogram came to a halt just inside the doorway, the concern vanishing from his expression as he took in the hugging siblings, the dismantled feeder tray, and the ink splatters on the walls. Carla and Carl quickly separated, and the latter held up his hands in a placating manner.

“Sir, I can fix it!”

“It’s my fault, I broke it!” confessed Carla, clasping her hands in front of her. “I’m so sorry.”

“And why aren’t you using your division’s equipment?” asked Monogram in annoyance.

“Er…I heard you had a new machine,” said Carla sheepishly, “and it’s way better than ours.”

“Please don’t punish her, sir,” said Carl anxiously. “It was an accident, and I promise I’ll have it up and running in no time.”

“You better! The payments for this doohickey haven’t even started yet!” Monogram glared at Carla, who hastily straightened under his scrutiny. “If you want a fancy photocopier that badly, you can pester Wanda about it. I’ve already got one Karl kid running rampant in my division. I don’t need another, thank you very much.”

“Yes, sir!” said Carla quickly.

“Clean up this gunk before it stains the paint.”

He left the room, grumbling under his breath, and Carla sent her brother a small grin. “He definitely has a soft spot for you. He didn’t even take your hide.”

“Small miracles,” he quipped.

[koboldfactory]

Had a weird dream about being on a colony ship after the earth blew up and something was very wrong inside the ship and all throughout it were strange dimensional gateways (they were like perfect rectangular cutouts of walls and space and stuff) that led to pocket reality liminal space things. One was like a weird cassette futurism hotel room with no doors or windows. Another was a giant empty space filled only by massive chandeliers and scaffolds over a dark blue-grey void. And another one was a tiny room with a shrine to a spirit with offerings placed at its base inside of a cheap clear plastic container. Outside of the room was an endless blue sky. The colony ship itself had a strange secret which seemed to be that either the earth didn’t explode and the ship was just a building on the earth as some kind of experiment, or it was opening portals to an alternate version of earth to go to. There was a robot maintenance staff that actively prevented anyone from seeing these strange anomalies. Using force if needed. I remember seeing a room that had a pier over an ocean with a rocky shore in the distance. The room was quickly sealed off by robots.

[now-or-then]

Rosy • m.yg

Pt. 1

Summary: You’re a blushing mess during Yoongi stay at your house as you battle with a cold, and your hidden crush on him. Until an ongoing storm decides to take control of the situation…

Pairings: Min Yoongi x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

♡ 𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 ♡

.

.

"I think you should probably go home."

"Why?"

I cringe at my blunt statement, seeing the clueless and innocent look appear on his face "Because it's getting dark...and I wouldn't want you to arrive home late."

Yoongi shakes his head, a tired but genuine smile lingered on his face.

"No, no. It's fine. I don't mind staying over with you in case your cold gets worse," He takes a seat onto the couch.

"Are you sure?" I raise a eyebrow "I'm totally o—"

A nasty cough crawls up my throat and I cover my mouth with my arm, coughing harshly I try to continue my sentence, before giving up.

"You were saying?"

Narrowing my eyes I try to make a witty comment, but I'm overwhelmed by more coughs leaving my mouth.

I see him get up to leave the room and peer guiltily into the direction he went.

My cough slowly defuses itself and I sigh, slumping further into the couch. Piles of blankets to keep me warm—at least that's what Yoongi said, surrounds my shivering figure while I had decided to burrito wrapped myself into one.

I try to ignore my stomach churning, more bothered by the soreness in my throat as I winced at every swallow.

"I'm back," Yoongi walks in and unboxes a tall rectangular container.

He’s quick to open it revealing a bottle of medicine. I wordlessly pick up the now unopened box he tossed onto the coffee table and examine it with a curious look; placing it back on the table.

Getting a glimpse of the medicine he poured into its tiny measuring cup, I hold back a gag.

"It looks awful," I groan, already dreading to take it.

"But you'll feel more awful if you don't take it."

He outstretches his hand towards me, the cup of medicine in it as he gives me a playfully stern look. I hesitate but accept it, my eyes stare down at the dark and cherry colored liquid; tilting it, I could barely see any movement.

It takes everything in me to hold back hurling right then and there.

Not wanting to be a nuisance to Yoongi from my childishness, I push my thoughts aside.

Maybe it’ll taste better than I think?

My hand brings the clear plastic cup to my mouth, getting a whiff of its strong smell; I'm quick to chug it down my throat. The bitter taste coats my tongue and I try not to show the disgust on my face.

On second thought…

He notices my reaction and glances at me with a 'what is wrong with her?' expression, then leaves the room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ✎-

After being curled up into my bundle of blankets like there's no tomorrow, I feel my stomach twist internally—a growl escapes from it. Like it's trying to eat itself alive, somehow.

I fish my phone out and text Yoongi.

Hearing him come into the room after a few minutes, I go back to snuggling on the couch. My eyes start to droop whereas a savory scent wafts through from the kitchen and to living room, making my fight away the sleep overcoming me.

Still in a sleep like daze, I stand up and waddle towards the kitchen door. Peeking out from the crack of it, I catch a glimpse of Yoongi preparing the ingredients for what he's making, and my heart warms at the sight.

Lost in my thoughts I accidentally lose my position, causing a loud creak to shatter through the comforting silence.

I hear him call my name, "...is that you?" he looks in my direction.

My hand pushes the kitchen door open, but fully this time to reveal myself and to see Yoongi standing near the stove, a few vegetables sits idly on the counter while he continues to chop some of them.

"What did you need?" He asks with his back at me.

"I-I..." I awkwardly stammer, "I just wanted to check on you."

Walking in I take a seat from one of the chairs at the kitchen island, then cross my arms over its long and marble pattern counter in the process; curious about what Yoongi was cooking from across me.

A few strands of his black hair falls over his face, but he ignores it and concentrates onto chopping the vegetables laid out across the wooden board. Watching Yoongi actions I notice the veins in his hands pop out with every movement; he picks up the chopped veggies and pours them into the huge pot, before he grabs another ingredient I couldn't see from afar.

I'm snapped out of my stare when the bowl is placed in front of me.

Thanking him as I ignored the heat invading my cheeks, I lift up my spoon before dipping it into the broth—my mouth waters at what it'll taste like.

"Careful, it's hot." Yoongi warns, putting another bowl beside me. He takes a seat at the spot.

"So, how's life? What have you been busy with?" I ask, stirring the spoon through the soup and catching the vibrant colors of chopped veggies, a few noodles shows underneath it while steam rises from my food. Probably should wait to eat...

"It's fine, it’s the same thing everyday." He shrugs indifferently.

Nodding, I let him continue.

"Me and the group have been practicing nonstop for our next performance, but we're managing it."

"Ooh!" I unintentionally interrupt "when's the next performance?"

He thinks, "In a week."

I take in all he says. Even though we’re busy with our own lives, it always fascinates me listening to him go on about what he's working on next. I'm surprised that I'm lucky enough to hear bits of the music he produces in the studio, it reminds me I haven't visit him in a while and this cold wasn't helping.

My mind wonders off to the slow realization that he'd be going on tour soon.

Crap, who knows how soon it'll be. Yet here I am procrastinating on telling him my feelings. Or was now not the right time?

"Are you okay?"

I snap out of my cloud of thoughts, "Yeah. I-I’m fine, um…" I cut off my sentence by taking a long sip of the warm soup. It’s enough to soothe my throat—and my thoughts too.

"Great even! My stomach just got a bit intense for a second," Yes, what a great excuse "no worries though." I add on

Silence awkwardly fills the kitchen except for our eating, but defuses into comfort. Maybe he’ll be on tour for a while, and I’ll still be battling my crush on him—but at least we’re here enjoying our time together.

We both seem to need the silence it at the moment.

Afterwards I'm on my probably fifth round of being on the couch. Though, it was with a full and satisfied stomach. Closing my eyes in contentment I listen to the sounds of rain, it pelted against my window in a rhythmic manner that calmed me.

I hear a loud thud and sit up, what was that?

"Yoongs?!" My hand flies over my mouth briefly, "I mean, Yoongi?!" I don't call him that nickname often but it slips once in a while.

"Yoongs?" He asks from afar.

Oh, he heard that. "Sorry, I meant—"

My ears picks up the sound of his quiet chuckle, "No, it's fine. I...I actually like that."

Oh.

Letting out an inaudible sigh of relief, I smile at his words then peek around the corner to find Yoongi putting away something and yell out to him again.

"What are you doing?"

"Your hallway is so cluttered that I can barely walk in a straight line." Yoongi pauses.

Mentally face palming myself I hope the messiness isn't too extreme, that'd be an embarrassing sight I don't want him to see. I’ve been too sluggish to clean it up. Despite telling myself I’ll get to it, the mess continues to remain in its current state; well, until now.

A crackle of thunder sounds from above us.

Wonderful.

"Alright, be careful!" My head lays back down onto the couch, between the weather and my sickness I didn’t want to do anything.

How is he not tired? I ponder and let out a tiny gasp in realization for how long he's been moving around for me, it's been since he came over which was daytime. He needs a break, I'll be okay.

I call his name again, seeing him around.

"What?" He tilts his head at me innocently.

"Maybe you should take a break. You've been working all day, so, let's watch a movie together!"

Yoongi slows his actions and I wonder if I said something wrong, is my wording off? I appreciate his efforts of taking care of me, but I didn't want him to feel like he were my maid. Though, the image of him in a maid outfit makes me hold back a giggle...

"Okay."

A bright gummy smile appears on his face, and I can't help but feel a smile show on mine too. He's so adorable.

We sit together at the couch and I scroll through movies on Netflix, us bantering over which one to watch.

"I win!" I exclaim in excitement.

Yoongi swears under his breath but I hear it, making me laugh.

"We can watch your favorite movie afterwards." I bring the mug of tea to my mouth, before drinking it.

He pouts and accepts my offer.

"Wait," Yoongi starts, "I need to check your temperature too."

My temperature? Right. I've probably been burning throughout the whole day, and that’s not counting him being the cause of some of them.

"Go ahead. I think it's in one of my drawers in the bathroom?" I scratch my head.

He gets up to leaves the living room briefly, not before I yell out 'be quick' to him in a playful manner.

Curling up into the blankets I put my knees to my chest and read the movie's descriptions out of boredom. But in return of that, a yawn escapes my mouth while I close my eyes, waiting for Yoongi to come back.

The room grows quiet. I brush it off as it always being like this, but I’m just now self aware of it.

Until I open my eyes to a pitch black room.

[the-pessimists-paradigm]

The Notes On Your Cup

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

"Ding-a-ling-a-ling!"

Sunlight briefly flows throughout the cafe as a handsome figure glances at the menu, glasses reflecting grey-red eyes. Parted black hair, rectangular glasses that bring a subtle edge to his face, navy turtleneck that beautifully wraps around his torso. He walks up to the counter, was that shimmer in his gaze always there? I flushed under this silent bittersweet torment of a too-cute-to-be-true stranger, glittering red irises and all in the warmth of the sun during a fresh spring day. "I'll have a black coffee."

"What's the name for the order?"

"Lucifer, please."

He says, nodding once as I pour into the steaming cup, staring fervently at how concisely I complete the action, quickly handing over the recycled plastic container after scribbling a smiley face and my number, I look away as my shoes have become much more interesting. He smiles politely, handing me some change, fingers ever so slightly grazing mine as fog fills his lenses and cacao beans enter my senses. Silver and brown coins cool off in my hand.

"Thanks for the fast service, I'll be sure to come again, stay for a while."

He says, about to head out the door.

"Lucifer, I noticed you like your coffee black. We have some of the finest blends available. I'd love to recommend some if you're interested." I respond, beaming.

"I'll take you up on that offer."

He chuckles, looking at me once more, gaze alight with a blazing fire as he walks out.

"Ding-a-ling-a-ling!"

The doors gently close, as if they remembered this moment. My heart races as I smile.

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

Comment if you liked it/want more!

[sammysficfactory]

Check That

eren yeager x black!femreader

summary: sometimes when family crosses boundaries, you have to remind them of their place. my excuse to write thanksgiving clapbacks

wc: ~0.5k

tags: fluff, comedy

warnings: mentions of food

notes: happy thanksgiving if you celebrate!, school is whooping me sorry i haven’t been posting often😭, beta read, inspired by those tiktoks, mostly centered around the reader, i feel like i’m just yapping in this👎🏾, feedback is welcome

Every year. You don’t even know why you come to your grandmother’s house every thanksgiving just to deal with your hypocritical family. You wish you would’ve just gone over Eren’s family’s house instead. Your leg bounces and Eren rubs your knee comfortingly.

“Y/N, why do you sneak off on us every other holiday? We are your family, you shouldn’t avoid us like that.” An aunt not-so-secretly judges you, her southern drawl making it all the more demeaning, but this year you came prepared.

“The same reason the repo man snuck off with that busted Nissan of yours.” You reply nonchalantly, causing your boyfriend to choke on his greens before covering it up by taking a sip of his water. Quiet snickers are heard across the large rectangular table as you continue to eat.

“Still ain’t got the car back yet either.” Your mother says under her breath, but loud enough for you and Eren to hear. You smirk, trying to keep yourself from laughing. You appreciate the fact that your parents have always had your back when you needed it.

That seemed to be enough to keep your aunt quiet for a good while. You bask in the warmhearted laughs and conversation now that your shady aunt has nothing more to say. The comfort of family is beginning to melt all the stress of your daily life away. That is until your aunt Jackie’s daughter Destiny decides to chime in on the topic of marriage. She’s been giving Eren bedroom eyes the entire evening.

“So cuz, this is the first time you brought Eren over for a family dinner. Are y’all a serious thing?” She twirls her fork in the spaghetti on her plate, making doe eyes at Eren that causes him to screw his face up slightly.

“Eren and I are just as serious as your fraud charges. Thank you for your concern, can you pass the yams?” You reply, rolling your eyes and feeling annoyed all over again. Your knee bounces a bit more intensely and just like always, Eren is right there to soothe you. He rubs your knee and places a kiss on your cheek for good measure. You exhale heavily, doing your best to keep yourself in check.

A few hours later with no further incidents, you and Eren say your goodbyes and leave out the door. You get in the passenger seat and let out a heavy and exhausted sigh. Eren turns your head towards him gently, just two fingers on your jaw and chin. He places a long, soft, and loving kiss on your lips.

“You did good today, I thought we were gonna have to get it poppin’ on thanksgiving.” He jokes, resulting in a chuckle coming from you. His eyes seem to glow a little when he sees you smile, a satisfied look on his face.

“There she is, there’s my lady.” He almost coos at you, his voice is just as soothing and warm as the smile on his face before he brings you in for another kiss. The two of you pull away slowly, taking some time just to stare at each other and decompress together.

The two of you make it home with plastic bags of takeaway containers in tow, setting them on the table before separating them into what the two of you would eat on your own, and what you would share. Ultimately stuffed, you and Eren lay on the couch tangled in each other’s limbs watching Charlie Brown movies.

[yueyimold]

retangular wastebasket mold

China mold maker, offer plastic dustbins mold, retangular wastebasket mold, trash container mold, garbage container baskets, snap lock plastic compost bin mold

[deviousdeliciousness]

Not a Mouse Pt. 1

And here's a lil' drabble from a giant's POV this time; Unintentional Fear Play, here we come! :333

~~~~~~~~~~

Of all the times for the power to go out, it just had to be in the middle of the night right after Jack was sure he'd seen what had to be a mouse ducking behind his toaster.

Yeah, he'd wandered into the kitchen for a late night snack - unusual for him already, since he tended to go to bed early - and he'd snagged a couple pop-tarts from the counter 'cause he didn't want to bother with anything requiring more prep than they would. Then, as one does, he'd looked up as he headed to the toaster. Only, he did so just in time to see something dart behind the stainless steel appliance. Something had had definitely been too big to be any kind of bug. Which meant that it was probably a mouse - or worse, a rat.

To make matters even more terrible than they were quickly summing up to be, Jack didn't have time to do more than inhale in shock before a thunderous boom practically shook the house along with an accompanying crack of thunder, and all the lights went out, pitching the world into darkness.

Fuck.

He blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the sudden loss of light while unconsciously shifting into a defensive position, his still sealed pop-tart held up like a weapon.

He quickly compartmentalized. One, the power was out, and by the loud crash nearby, it probably wouldn't be turning back on anytime soon. Two, there was a rodent in his kitchen.

As if to reinforce his thoughts, his ears pricked at the sound of a tiny, barely audible scuff, and he squinted his eyes in the direction of the sound, his brows furrowing low on his forehead when he realized it was from the same direction where he'd last seen his intruder, undeniably confirming its existence.

There was no way he was gonna be able to go back to bed while knowing that he had a damn rat in his apartment. Just the thought of it crawling all over his stuff, getting into his food, crawling over him while he slept - eugh. He shuddered in revulsion.

Hey, alright, he didn't have anything against mice or rats, not in general, but wild ones were known for being prime disease carriers for a reason: because they were. So he was very much against having one of the things in his home.

There was another little noise - it was sort of sharp and almost like a barely-there breath - and Jack steeled himself as he realized what he'd have to do.

He'd have to catch it - and fast. Before it had the chance to get away and do whatever it was that rats did after finding a home to inhabit. Like invite its little rat friends over or have a hundred baby rats in his walls. Yeah. No thank you.

Fumbling around in the dark (which was thankfully not completely pitch black to him anymore as his eyes finally began to adjust), Jack grabbed one of the plastic food containers from the drying rack at his side, simultaneously dropping his pop-tarts back onto the counter.

The Tupperware was rectangular and of a decent size. He was sure the rat would fit comfortably inside once he caught it.

What he would do with it after he caught it? Well... he'd figure that out then.

Clutching the container tight in his hands, he crept closer to the soft little scuffling sounds that he was able to better pick up on as he approached his invader, and the noises seemed to pick up in their urgency the closer he got. His muscles tensed in preparation as he scoured the near-darkness for any little figure out of place, his heartbeat picking up its pace in his chest with both nerves and thready anticipation.

He roved his eyes over the countertop, and -

There!

A small blob of shadow - smaller than he'd been expecting - moved, and he reacted. His arms came down from above his head to slam the lidless Tupperware container down over of the thing, and he almost winced at the sound of the plastic slamming hard against the countertop.

In the exact same instant, a sharp, piercing cry cut through the air, and for the life of him, he couldn't help but think it sounded far less like a squeak and disturbingly more like a high-pitched, terrified scream.

~~~~~~~~

Dun Dun DUuuun.... Pt 2 ya think?