#cardboard anvil

[dndtreasury]

Goblin Grab Bag #001 by Cardboard Anvil

[dndnpcinfo]

Village Idiot Name Generator

[dndcharactersinfo]

D20 Character Goals

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

*Attempts to spawn an Anvil over Picky... but it ends up only being weak and empty cardboard box that does nothing but bounce off her head- probably falls apart too into dust afterwards*

W-We mean it! You keep away! You tried to hurt Hoppy... so we're here to make sure you can't! Yeah that's right! Yep! Sh-She's ours now, you can't have her!

I am getting way too old for this.

[yourtongzhihazel]

‼️BREAKING‼️

Dastardly Hamas plot uncovered where fighters drop giant ACME anvils on IOF soldiers trying to shoot a cardboard cutout of a Palestinian child

Another plot uncovered where Hamas fighters shoot at zionist soldiers then escape through a tunnel painted on a wall but when the IOF pursues, they bash into a solid wall and their teeth fall out like piano keys

[the-cult-of-russo]

Endorphins (Part 1)

Pairing: Reader/Billy Russo

Warnings: cursing, angst, pain, the usual dark shit. I don't wanna tag it too like specifically to keep the suspense alive lmao the usual Punisher type of bullshit. It’s nothing you haven’t read before if you’ve read my other angsty shit.

A/N: Soooo this was a request but it turned into multiple parts because I got carried away. And I don't wanna put the request on here like I usually do because of spoilers lmaooo Also, I’ll just be posting these one after the other ‘cause I just wanna get this out there.

But to answer the rest of your ask anon, I know, I was away awhile. Life hasn’t been kind to me and then I ended up knee-deep in another fandom lmao But I’m back babeeeyyyy!! ;)

Also, the name of this series is from a Don Broco song with the same name. If you don’t know who they are, check them out. They’re my fav band and I love them. 

Endorphins are running through my veins and it's pathetic

Endorphins are rushing out my brain and it's pathetic

Mighty morphing into a piece of shit, it's so pathetic

I'm so pathetic

I'm so pathetic

—--------------------

Your leg bobbed nervously, eyes darting around at the other people sitting around in the hallway. You were interviewing for a job at a company called Anvil. It was a secretary/PA position. You'd done this kind of work before but the company you'd been working for had to close down, so now you were broke and out of work. You knew Anvil was doing well. The company had gained a reputation for itself and working here would mean good pay and opportunities. But the company wasn't the only thing that had a reputation. You'd heard many things about the man sitting on the throne. A serial womanizer. Rumor was, his last PA was fired after he fucked her. And she wasn’t the first. But maybe that's all it was. A rumor. But still, as you looked at the other people here, you couldn't help but feel like a sack of potatoes. All the leggy pretty women that looked like they should be on a catwalk and not interviewing for a job like this. If he really was as shallow as you'd heard, you'd have no chance. You'd not had to be interviewed in so long, being at your last job for as long as you did, and the nerves were chipping at you. You were just considering bolting out of the door when your name was called by a blonde woman with a kind face. 

She'd introduced herself to all of the interviewees as Karen Page. She'd told you all that while she didn't technically work here, she helped out from time to time. Her partner was Frank, the head trainer and Billy Russo's best friend. You blinked at her for a long moment, eyes wide as your heart hammered in your chest. She gave you a warm and encouraging smile as you stood. Your legs felt like jello, ready to give out at a moment's notice. You hadn't expected to be so nervous here. But you were on the verge of losing your apartment and you needed this job. But you weren't like all the others here. Calm and composed, seemingly not fussed in the least about the interview. You stuck out like a sore thumb and you were sure that's why Karen decided to give your arm a reassuring squeeze when you stood next to her outside of Mr Russo's office.

"You've got this," she smiled warmly. You wondered if she felt bad for you. You knew you must have looked ridiculous with how nervous you were. You blew out a shaky breath with a nod.

"I've got this," you repeated, not too convincingly as your voice wobbled. After one more smile, Karen opened the door for you. You stepped in, almost flinching at the sound of the door shutting behind you. 

The office was large yet simple. A minimalist look to it. Only one painting hung on the wall. Some scenic oil painting that looked legit and like it cost a shit tonne of money. You swallowed thickly as your eyes landed on the man behind the desk. His suit looked like it was made just for him and his hair was perfectly styled. And now you had to impress him or you'd be living in a cardboard box on the streets.

"Mr Russo," you greeted meekly, a polite yet shy smile on your face.

"Ms Y/L/N, please take a seat," he said cordially, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk. You walked over, sitting down before your eyes flit around anxiously. There was no way in hell you'd be able to impress this man given your competition. Your heart thudded away dully in your chest. When your eyes landed back on him, he was already watching you. His eyes were dark, darker than you’d ever seen before. They felt like they saw right through you and sucked you in all at the same time. His lips quirked up slightly and you realized you'd just been sitting there looking at him like a deer in the headlights. You felt your cheeks burn.

"I'm sorry. I swear I'm not usually this… nervous. It's just been a long time since I've had to sit for an interview," you admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. You figured if you couldn't win him over with looks, you might as well just be honest with him.

He smiled at you, glancing at the paper on his desk.

"I noticed. Your resume is quite impressive. A loyal employee. You worked at Johnson and Sons for…-" he trailed off as he glanced to the paper again.."-8 years. He must have thought you were a good employee to keep you on that long," he mused, his dark eyes going back to you. You felt your face heat up a little at the compliment as you looked down at your hands clasped in your lap.

"I guess so," You shrugged with a wry smile.

"Mr Johnson was a good man. Was a shame what happened to him," he murmured thoughtfully. A small frown creased your brow as you felt a pinch in your chest. Mr Johnson had worked his whole life to get his business to where it ended up. And then a month ago he had a heart attack in the middle of a meeting. You'd witnessed it. Now he was dead and instead of his sons carrying on the business as they were supposed to, they closed it down.

"He was a good man. He always looked after me," you replied sadly. He gave you a sympathetic look, His finger tapping on the desk a little.

"So… why do you think you'd be a good fit here at Anvil?" He asked you, eyes boring into you. You licked your lower lip, mouth suddenly feeling dry like all the moisture had evaporated.

"I'm a hard worker. I always go above and beyond what's expected of me. If you need me to do something, then I’ll do it. Whether it's staying here late to help you prep for a big meeting or just running down the street to get you a bagel and coffee,” you tried to sound confident but you weren’t sure if you succeeded or not. He nodded, leaning back in his chair a little like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“I gotta be honest, when I saw the name on your resume, I already knew who you were before I read it,” he said, lips tugging into a wry smirk as you blinked at him.

“You did?” you asked, slightly confused. He chuckled, raking his teeth over his lower lip as he looked at you.

“I did a lot of business with Mr Johnson. He never shut up about you, how good his PA was. Made me pretty jealous about it. I don’t know if you remember, but we met two years ago, at the Charity ball for homeless people your company ran,” he murmured, a note of amusement in his voice. Your brows furrowed a little as you tried to remember the night. You’d planned all of it and Mr Johnson insisted you attend it to at least enjoy the fruits of your labors. He’d even bought you a swanky dress that was still sitting in your closet despite the fact you'd never use it again. You couldn't just chuck something away that you knew cost so much. You tried to quickly flip through the memories of the night. You’d met so many people then, so many business contacts. And then you remembered briefly being introduced to Mr Russo but you hadn't done more than say a polite hello with a smile. Mr Johnson liked to call you a workaholic. Even at the event you were working and making sure things were in order, taking notes when important people were around. 

“I completely forgot about that,” you muttered, feeling a little sheepish. You weren't quite sure how you could forget someone like Mr Russo. He shot you another amused grin as he shrugged lazily. 

“I’m not surprised. Mr Johnson said you’d work yourself to death. You were supposed to be enjoyin’ the party and instead you were workin’ your ass off,” he teased. You bit your lip with a smile, feeling a little more at ease with him the more he spoke. He was intimidating yet calming at the same time and it was strange.

“Yep, sounds about right,” you snorted. He moved to sit forward again, hands clasped on his desk in front of him. 

“Look… I’ll be real transparent with you, Y/N. Your resume is one of many I’ve had to go through, but as soon as I saw your name, I already knew who I was gonna pick. If you got Mr Johnson's stamp of approval then you already got mine. I know he didn’t keep anyone on his team that wasn’t capable of workin’ hard and keepin’ cool under pressure. I knew you’d be perfect for the job. I’d be stupid to hire anyone else out there over you,” he admitted, his face deadly serious as his dark gaze cut into you. You blinked dumbly at him for a moment. You weren’t really expecting this. You’d been sure you didn't have a chance. And you felt flattered that Mr Johnson had been so impressed with you that he’d spoken about you so much. 

“Really?” you asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left your mouth. His serious face changed then as his lips quirked up at you.

“Really. If you want the job, it's yours,” he offered with a warm smile. All the nerves that had gripped you tightly since you’d walked in seemed to melt from you, your body sagging a little in relief after being held so tightly for so long.

“I really do want the job,” you nodded eagerly. His grin widened then, reaching a hand out for you to shake. You took it, shaking it with a smile.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N. I think you’ll love it here,” he grinned. 

—-

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself to stave off the bite of chilly wind as you walked briskly home. Your heels sounded like the only noise in the street, clicking on the pavement at your hurried steps. You’d been working with Anvil for exactly a week. It was Monday and you’d quickly gathered Monday was a busy day. There would always be tonnes of messages for you to sift through that had come through at the weekend. You didn’t mind it though. It was pretty much the same as it had been back at your other job. You’d met mostly everyone there and everyone seemed nice. Frank had been polite and sweet to you, which hadn't been expected with his grumpy face. You'd even gotten to know Karen a little better. She’d come in sometimes to see Frank and wind up speaking to you for a bit too. Mr Russo was a really good boss too. Not the hard ass like you thought he might be. He’d even shown you the ropes himself and made a point of showing you around and introducing you to people there. Overall, you were enjoying the job. But as you walked home, you were feeling an unsettling feeling and it wasn't the first time you'd felt it since you started working there. It started on your second day. You’d been walking home when you felt uneasy. That feeling you get when you know someone’s watching you. You knew you were being paranoid, you hadn't seen anyone when you’d glanced around. But the hairs on the back of your neck were prickling up and it made your stomach churn. You’d convinced yourself you were being silly. It was an overactive imagination or something. But it happened every night when you walked home from work. You’d never felt this way when working at your old job and you couldn't shake it. And so, as it happened once again, you hurried home feeling your chest constrict like you were on the verge of a panic. You’d never been an overly anxious person walking around, even at night. You knew what New York could be like but it didn't really bother you. So you weren’t quite sure just why you were feeling this way. You always felt like you were ready to get snatched into an alleyway or something. You hated it. You wished it wasn’t winter. It wouldn't be dark on your way home in the summer.

As you were almost at your apartment, you heard a crash from the other side of the street. Your head whipped around quickly, your heart stuttering for a moment. On the other side of the street, there was a figure all in black, a hood pulled over their head and obscuring their face. It looked like they’d knocked over a trash can. There was something really ominous feeling about the person, especially since he hadn't been there when you’d looked over your shoulder a few minutes before. You turned around quickly and ran the rest of the way, almost ripping the door to your apartment building off the hinges once you let yourself in. You stood in the hallway, chest heaving a little as you told yourself to get it together. You were being stupid. It wasn't like you were the only person allowed out at night. It was probably just some guy minding his own business. You walked back over to the door, peeping through the long window curiously. You felt your stomach drop when you saw the hooded figure across the road standing there unmoving. Looking right at your building. You backed away slowly, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of your stomach as you rushed up the stairs. It was only once you were in your apartment you felt a little safe. When you chanced a glance out of your window, the figure was gone and you felt yourself unwind a little. It was weird and you didn't like it. You wondered if you should mention it to Mr Russo. He did own a security firm after all. Maybe he could give you some tips to keep yourself safe. You weren't quite sure why it had only just started but maybe Anvil came with some cons as well as pros. You weren't sure but you found it hard to go to sleep that night. 

—--

You stood outside of Mr Russo’s office anxiously, gnawing at your lower lip. It was lunchtime and you’d already given him his lunch. But you’d been on the fence about speaking to him about your nightly scares or not. Once the morning came, you weren't sure if you’d been imagining it or not. You felt a little bit silly going to him about it. But you’d be a liar if you said you weren't already dreading the walk home. It wasn't far which is why you never bothered with a cab. You were starting to wonder if maybe you should start. After heaving a large breath, you knocked on his door firmly. Once he told you to come in, you opened the door and hovered inside uncertainly.

“Mr Russo… could I speak to you a moment?” you asked tentatively. 

“I keep tellin’ you, call me Billy. Come and sit down,” he gestured to the seat, giving you a smile as he balled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the trash can. His casual demeanor put you at ease instantly. He’d been telling you to call him Billy since your first day but for some reason your brain was having a hard time with it. To be fair to you, you’d never done it with Mr Johnson despite his insistence to call him by his first name. 

“Billy, sorry,” you murmured wryly as you moved to sit down. 

“What's worrying you?” he asked pointedly, raising a brow at you.

“How do you know I’m worried?” you countered, giving him an amused smirk. Despite being cordial and professional with him, he had a way of always putting you at ease and making you feel comfortable. It had been easy to talk to him in your short time here and he’d even joke with you sometimes. You’d admit it was refreshing working with someone closer to your own age. He gave you a look that you’d quickly learnt meant ‘cut the bullshit’ and you sighed. 

“It’s… It’s gonna sound stupid. I think I’m just being paranoid or something,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks burning a little at your words. You felt silly in front of him now. 

“Paranoid or not, somethin’s got you worried. You know you can talk to me. What happened?” he asked seriously. You chewed on your lower lip again, fiddling with your hands on the desk as your eyes landed on anything other than him. Suddenly his large and warm hand settled over yours, stilling their restless motions and your eyes snapped to his. That was another thing you weren’t quite used to. Mr Johnson never put his hands on you, no matter how gentle. Billy had done it a few times. Just little touches like a squeeze to the arm, his hand on your back for the briefest of moments. You didn't mind it though really. 

“I think… I think someone’s been following me home,” you admitted quietly. A deep frown graced his face then and you idly thought about how he hadn't removed his hand.

“And you’re sure?” he asked after a moment. He didn't sound happy at the notion and you were slightly touched he cared.

“I mean… I don’t know. It started my second day here. You know you can just… sense when someone’s watching you? And it's been every night when I go home. And then last night, there was a guy all in black. I wasn’t sure he was following me at first but once I got inside my building, he just… stood there watching me,” you swallowed thickly, getting a chill down your spine just remembering how weird it had been. Billy was quiet for a moment before he squeezed your hand and stood up. He walked over to a cupboard across his office, rooting around in there before he came back over to you with something in his hand. It was pepper spray. You took it gratefully, feeling at least like you had something to protect yourself with.

“Use it if you feel threatened. Even if some poor innocent bastard gets sprayed. If they're close enough to make you scared they deserve it anyway,” he mused as he sat back in his chair. 

“Thank you,” you breathed with a smile.

“Look, I know you don’t live too far but I think maybe walkin’ isn’t too safe out there at night,” he frowned thoughtfully. You looked from the pepper spray in your hands to him, tilting your head a little.

“I’m thinking of taking cabs from now on, just to be safe,” you admitted.

“Good. You ever taken self-defense classes?” he asked seriously. You felt small under his gaze and you knew your answer wouldn't please him given his line of work.

“No,” you gave him a sheepish smile as he rolled his eyes goodnaturedly at you.

“Frank’s been teachin’ Karen in the private training room in the back. Does it most days after work. You up for it?” he asked expectantly. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you smiled. You’d always wanted to learn but you’d always been so busy that it would slip your mind. But given how you were feeling lately, you knew it would make you feel even safer. He shot you a grin with a pleased nod.

“Alright, tomorrow after work. Bring something comfortable to change into,” he instructed. 

“Thank you, Mr- … uh Billy. I really appreciate all this,” you said softly, a grateful smile on your face as you stood. You figured you’d taken up enough of his time as it was. You knew just how busy he was. He stood too, walking you to the door.

“Anytime. You know you can come to me about anything. No matter how small you think it might be. What kinda boss would I be if I let somethin’ bad happen to my favorite PA?” he asked with a mischievous smile. You snorted, feeling your cheeks burn at his praise. You felt like a cat getting a head rub and you almost smacked yourself for your own reaction.

“I’ve only been here for a week,” you replied amused. He gave you a cheeky grin and shrugged.

“And you’re still my favorite PA,” he countered. You left his office feeling a little better about the whole thing. You’d take cabs and you now had pepper spray if you needed it. And soon, Frank would have you trained up so you’d be able to defend yourself. 

—---

You made your way to the training room in the back slowly. You were in a tank top and some leggings with some sneakers on. Your work clothes now in the bag you were holding. You’d changed in the bathroom. The night before, you’d taken a cab home. But as you were going inside of your apartment, you’d felt that feeling again. This time you couldn't see anyone, but you’d hurried inside anyway. You’d barely seen Billy that day. He’d been swamped with meetings but when you had briefly seen him as you gave him his lunch, he’d asked you if you were still up for training and of course you told him yes. You felt a little strange though in crashing the couples time training together, like you were intruding almost. But you knew Frank was head trainer here so he’d be good. You also hoped Billy had mentioned you’d be dropping in. But as you walked into the training room, it wasn't just the couple there. Billy was there too. For some reason, that thought hadn't even crossed your mind but it did make you feel a little better. Karen was standing off to one side as Billy and Frank wrestled with each other. It looked like they didn’t even notice you come in. You wandered over to Karen, plonking your bag down on the floor.

“Boys, am I right?” she asked with a wry smirk, making you snort as you watched them. They were scrambling on the floor looking like a pair of kids play fighting and it amused you. Billy ended up behind Frank, getting him in a chokehold.

“How’dya like that?” He asked gleefully, making Frank huff and throw his elbow back. It connected with Billy’s side and he let him go with a grunt.

“Afraid I’m gonna make you look bad in front of your girl, Bill?” Frank asked teasingly. It was at that moment that Billy’s eyes shot up and connected with yours. And the same moment Frank decided to pounce on him and tackle him to the floor, pinning him down. You tried to ignore the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach at Frank’s words. They were just talking shit to each other.

“You’re an asshole, Frankie,” Billy wheezed, looking disgruntled yet amused. Frank grinned, tapping him on the cheek before standing up and offering Billy his hand. He took it, letting Frank pull him up before they hugged it out in a manly way. You smirked to yourself. Karen made a beeline to Frank as Billy waltzed over to you, swiping a bottle of water from a bench near where you stood. 

“Having fun?” you asked knowingly. He’d told you before how he loved sparring with Frank. He wasn't afraid to really lay into him and give him a good challenge like his recruits were. 

“What d’you think?” he answered cheekily. He looked like he was glowing. A radiant smile on his face. That one that made his eyes crinkle. It made you smile at him. Your eyes drifted to Frank and Karen then. They were adorable together. Frank could seem mean on the outside, an intimidating aura about him. But with Karen, he was all soft and squishy and you loved it.

“You’re gonna be with me. You ready?” Billy asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“I hope so,” you murmured wryly, making him shoot you a smirk.

The training went really well. Frank and Karen were doing their own training as Billy focused on you. You’d felt self-conscious at first, never having done anything like this before. But Billy was a really good teacher and would praise you every time you did something good. He never made you feel stupid for getting things mixed up or wrong. He’d gently correct you and make sure to compliment your technique on something. You appreciated it. He’d taught you how to disarm someone and various self-defense moves. And then he had you spar with him a little bit to practice the moves out on a moving target. After almost two hours, you were tired. He went to grab you and you stumbled backwards, grabbing his wrist as you started to fall, bringing him with you. You weren't sure just how his reflexes were so fast because you didn't hit the floor. You landed on Billy instead who had somehow maneuvered you both to swap places. You were sprawled on top of him and blinked at him in shock for a moment. 

“You two wanna get a room?” Frank called over mischievously, making Karen giggle a little. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you scrambled off Billy, waiting for him to look disgusted by the comment. Instead, he tilted his head to look at Frank from where he was lying with an amused smirk before giving him the finger. He had the grace of a cat as he hopped to his feet and he held his hand out to you to help you up. You gave him a sheepish smile before taking it and letting him pull you to your feet.

“I think I’m wiped out,” you murmured with a yawn. He grinned at you as you both walked over to your bottles of water. 

“You did good today. Pushed yourself hard. We do this a couple of times a week, you won’t have anything to worry about,” he said softly. You shot him a grateful smile before taking a long pull of your drink.

“Want me to drive you home?” he asked, wiping his forehead with his t-shirt. You tried not to look at his abs. He looked good like this in basketball shorts and a tee. You’d never seen him look anything other than pristine. 

“You don't have to,” you shook your head. It would be even later now with staying behind for training and you didn't want to walk home. But even though cabs were a safer option, you couldn't help but worry about the cab driver too. It wouldn't take much to lock the doors and drive off somewhere and murder you. Why did working here make you so paranoid?

“I know I don’t. I want to,” he countered, giving you a look that was a mix of amusement and determination. 

“Only if you don’t mind,” you shrugged. He playfully rolled his eyes at your unwillingness to just say yes.

“I don’t,” he said firmly, signaling the end of it. You slipped your jacket on before you and Billy said your goodbyes to Frank and Karen and then you were in his car on your way home. His very fancy car.

“I bet this car cost the same as a year's worth of my rent,” you snorted, glancing at him as he drove. You really didn't live far so you knew it would be a short drive. He smirked to himself for a moment before his face softened into a more earnest look.

“It’s alright, I guess,” he murmured. You blinked at him for a moment and he didn't take his eyes off the road.

“You don't like it?” you questioned. He had the money to buy something else if he wanted. You weren't sure why he was still driving it if he didn't like it.

“I do, it’s just… I used to think I wanted money more than anything. Money is power, right?” he asked, glancing at you briefly before back at the road. “But the past few years… I’ve been thinkin’ about how it ain’t everything. There’s more to life than money. Than power. It’s not what makes you happy,” he mused softly. You weren't really sure what to say to that if you were honest.

“Didn’t realize you were so philosophical,” you grinned teasingly, making him snort and shoot you a look. 

“Maybe I’m just finally growin’ up,” he shrugged. With that, he pulled to a stop outside of your apartment. 

“Thank you. For the training and the ride… just everything,” you murmured, glancing to him. He looked at you properly then with a soft smile.

“You don’t gotta thank me,” he shook his head.

“Well I did, so deal with it,” you smirked. He let out a surprised laugh at you and it made you smile to yourself. You preferred the carefree happy Billy to the overworked stressed one. He watched you for a long moment and it made you feel all funny as you just blinked at him.

“I’m really glad you took that job,” he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. You bit your lower lip with a shy smile as you nodded.

“I’m glad too,” you replied. You felt a little weird now. You knew you needed to get out of the car and go home, but this was such a strangely soft moment between the pair of you and you felt weird breaking it. But then you reminded yourself that he was your boss and that you were reading far too much into everything. It was easy getting sucked in by him and his charm but all he saw was his PA that maybe he was becoming friends with. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said with a smile, opening the car door.

“See you tomorrow,” he replied quietly, watching as you got out. As you went inside, you gave yourself a good telling-off. You were acting like a schoolgirl with a crush and it needed to stop before it got you fired. Whether that was from Billy finding out and being grossed out or by ending up in bed with him. Because you knew his track record and how that always went. 

[dmwrites]

“Scar. You have a visitor.”

Scar turned from looking at his elven grandmas to Cub, who was standing in the doorway, holding a clipboard. Scar was pleased to see he was wearing his company-issued headband adorned with fake elf ears.

“Oh? And who might that be?” Scar clapped his hands in delight.

“Mumbo.”

“Mumbo…” Scar hummed thoughtfully, nodding. He sashayed over to a lever stashed behind a flowering vine plant and pulled it up. There was a loud ka-thunk, and huge metal walls came down from the ceilings. The floor flipped from wood and moss into pristine laminated tiles. Cub moved his head slightly to the side as the elegant strings of fairy lights wound up past him and were replaced with industrial LED lights. The windows were gone behind the walls.

“The heads, Scar.” Cub walked over and handed Scar a few cardboard robot heads, which Scar had painted himself.

“Oh yes, of course!” Scar beamed, taking them, and placed one on each of the elven grandma’s heads. “Perfect. Cub, please go fetch our guest.”

Scar did an elven twirl, so when Mumbo walked in with Cub, he was greeted with a suit-wearing Scar. He even had his luscious hair pulled up into a severe bun.

“Mumbo. My favorite investor in the cookie empire. How are you today, my dearest mustachioed friend?” Scar shook Mumbo’s hand with a big smile.

“Hey Scar! Uh…” Mumbo looked back at Cub, then worriedly at Scar. “Scar, not to alarm you, but I just saw Cub over at Gigapies with Ren like a day ago. I think he’s working there too.”

“Oh yes, I know.” Scar flapped his hand. “Cub is working both sides of the rivalry. But he’s also the only one willing to work secretary sifts for me, so what is an elf, I mean man, like me to do?” Scar waved teasingly at Cub. “Ain’t that right, Cubby Wubby?”

“Your company would fall apart without me, and yet still every day I pray for your downfall.” Cub replied just as cheerfully, then he left.

“So, Mr. Mumbo of the Jumbo variety, what brings you over to the cookie factory, hmm?” Scar asked warmly.

“Well, Scar, if you’ll remember, last time I was over here, the cookie factory was looking pretty… nature-y.” Mumbo crinkled his nose in disgust. “I was wondering how you’ve changed since, and I must say, I am thoroughly impressed! The walls are such a beautiful metal! And the floors! Why, this laminated tiles are bringing a tear to my eye! And oh my! Did you get robots?” Mumbo leaned in close to one of the elven grandmas, examining its cardboard mask. “These look so intricate.”

“They were very expensive, so let’s not stand too close.” Scar said smoothly, ushering Mumbo back. “And, just as you suggested, a sign that indicates how many days it’s been since our last accident. It’s been at zero for four weeks now!” Scar chuckled along with Mumbo, and then subtly pressed a button hidden in the wall, which dropped an anvil onto the head of one of the robot grandmas. “Oop! There’s todays accident!”

“Well, Scar, I must say.” Mumbo turned on his heels slowly, taking it all in. “This place looks wonderful. You had a real shithole before, with all that moss and flowers and real people. You’ve sold me! I will invest in your cookie empire! I am a very rich man, after all.”

“Wonderful.” Scar said warmly, taking Mumbo’s hand and shaking it again. “Let’s discuss the terms tomorrow at your place? Maybe with some of that expensive vintage wine you said you had?”

“Oh yes. That stuff.” Mumbo suddenly looked a bit pale. “Yes, of course. As the richest hermit I most certainly have that. See you tomorrow, then!” Mumbo rushed off.

Scar let out a long breath and then high fived himself. “Another one down! Oh Cub, did you hear the news! We got another sponsor for the cookie empire! That’s one less person to shop at the stupid Gigapies, you two-faced angel!”

Cub was writing things down on his clipboard with a furious speed. “As soon as I figure everything out about you, I will take you and your business down from the inside. The food empires will be mine.”

“Oh Cub, you say such sweet things to me.” Scar smiled at him and let down his luxurious elven hair.

“Hello?” There was a cute voice from the doorway. “Scar? Oh, and Cub too! Hi guys!” Gem appeared, looking around in curiosity.

“Gem! Hi!” Scar said, casually leaning over to the lever and pulled it back down. The metal walls rose back into the ceiling. The floor flipped over again to wood and moss. The flowers reappeared, and Scar twirled back into his green elven robes. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, aren’t you looking adorable and elven like me! Welcome to the cookie empire, where we have real cookies made by real grandmas!”

“Wow, really!” Gem’s eyes got big with excitement. “Where are the grandmas?”

“Oh!” Scar cringed and flicked the fake robot heads off the elven grandmas. “Right here! They were just playing dress up!”

“What was all that dirty metal and factory vibes about?” Gem asked.

“Gem, would you like a free sample?” Scar smoothly interrupted, bringing forth a tray of freshly baked cookies.

“Oh, I don’t know Scar. Impulse and Pearl say I’m not allowed to because I’ll get a sugar high.” Gem was already reaching towards a big one.

“Oh, one can’t hurt. Or two. Take three!” Scar smiled down at her. You could almost see the dollar signs in his eyes. “Say, Gem… have you ever invested in a company before?” The two walked away, leaving Cub to scribble even more notes and take the rest of the robot heads off the elven grandmas.

[beeceit]

I'm not gonna promise to draw it bc I'm a liar and literally never make good on my promises to draw shit, but in honor of WMAS getting out of jail, just picture it ITBOTB Blue dropping a comically large looney toons anvil out of the window of the peepaw convention over WMAS Leo's wet cardboard box and then his shoulder gets tapped and WMAS Leo is standing there, still wet "Hey, they let me out. What the hell are you doing?" "...nothing? Welcome back??" (he just popped into existence back in the peepaw convention room the moment it got unsuspended) (Blue wasn't actually trying to hit him, he just wanted to see what it would take to get WMAS out of the box)

[computerything]

Man with television for head carries around slab of cardboard whilst feces, anvils, and rusty nails perpetually fall from the sky onto him as punishment for the crime of existing.

Oh yeah, the apocalypse or something.

[spookywhitt]

Now for the cestus, aka the armored glove. Here is your pattern pieces.

Sew your glove together

Next, pattern your armor pieces. Be sure to label them so they don't get mixed up.

One o he prizes I got for winning with Dracula was a few sheets of this new thermo-plastic called Thibra. It is very easy to work with and nice and smooth. I later realized I would need to rivet the pieces onto the glove themselves so I removed the fake rivets and installed holes big enough for metal rivets.

Because these are such small pieces you will need to pin them down onto cardboard to paint them first with some primer/filler.

This will be followed up with your silver paint.

Your armor is now ready to be rivetted onto the glove. To do this you will want a rod with a flat edge going through the finger to be your anvil.

Cestus complete.

[therealloopylupin2099]

the Nutcracker: short fanfic gift for a friend (with permission)

characters in it: @daydreamdaysaway and Me @therealloopylupin2099 but it’s our profile pics interacting with eachother with our pfp names. Guest star Peter B Parker

Daydream was walking the halls of the Spider society,she was trying to find one of her mutuals she interacts with in the society and on missions. She could ask Hobie,but they were busy at the moment,and she thought about asking her dimension’s Miles,but he too was busy.She couldn’t practice the part alone,the dance required two people for one part,and she needed a dance partner to help her out.

As she was walking,she heard a very comedic sound of something falling,like in the Wiley Cyote cartoons where the anvil makes a whistle sound before the cyote holds up a sign “ yikes”. She saw a big shadow that was similar in size of Miguel’s,which he never leaves his office,but she knew the other Variant of his that ALWAYS goes out( and as talkative as 616 Peter). And the voice confirmed it.

“LOOOOOOK OUT BELOOOWWWWW! CRASH BRANDICOOT COMING ON HOT! BOXES BEWARE IM COLLECTING WAMPA FRUIT!”

She stepped out of the way as the Goofy Variet of Miguel fell with a loud THUD. Snickering, she rolled her eyes and helped them up to their feet.

“WOAH! Talk about a crash land! And they say I land on my feet..they lied to me.” -?? Said.

“You are Very goofy,more so than Peter. How do you even lead things if your distracted like this?

“I have No idea! :p!”

“You do know there’s no actual Wumpa fruit,just some now crushed cardboard boxes?”

“No…ok yeah now I do dream .” They let out a chuckle that developed into a hardy laugh.

“Well Lupin can you help me with something? You can go back to giving Peter grey hairs and having Lyla lock you out of the sugary snacks?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah I can! What ya need help with Dream?”

“I need a dance partner,the dance requires 2 people at one part.”

“Uh..I’m not a dancer-“

“You tried moonwalking to Billie Jean the other day”

“THATS DIFFERENT!”

“Not really.”

“I’m not a professional ballet dancer,nor am I graceful as thou.”

“Well I’m not a professional either,I’m learning,I’ll show you the ropes.”

Lupin was reluctant and was nervous but agreed to your request.

You two went to the dance hall and put on the outfits needed for ballet.

“spandex is SO not comfy..how do we manage to wear suits like this?” Lupin complains and tugged at the dress suit he was wearing. “ my sensory issues are going off the charts”

“It won’t be long,just please bare with it, also isn’t your spider suit spandex anyways? I assume your and The actual Miguel wear the same thing,cause the future tech?”

“No my suit isn’t spandex,it’s made of Unstable Molecule Fibers,or UMF for short. They can withstand my claws on my hands and feet,same with the non fun version of me”

“Oh.neat”

“What about you? Your suit spandex or no?”

“No, I think Peter is the only Spandex costume wearer here.Mine is just a hoodie”

“Oh yeah. Kinda forgot,thought it was made out of symbiote or something”

“Another variant of me,not the same person big guy”

“Again.oh.”

They dropped the conversation afterwards. Dream, the Gwen Stacy varient,explained the dance to the clumsier Miguel Varient. For the most part they got it down,a few tumbles here and there due to their flat feet,but they were almost done practicing after 45 minutes.

“Ok this last part is called the Nutcracker, and I need you to lift me up when I say to lift me up,and give me a twirl,ok Loop?

“Yup! Think I understand. Say why do they call it the Nutcracker?”

But the question distracted them,and Dream spun in a circle and extended her leg out to give a graceful twirl. As soon as Lupin was sure they were ready to catch Dream for the spin move, her leg hit them in their groin. A squeak was heard followed by a sympathetic wince.

“OOOOOOH SHOCKING HELL!” Lupin held where they got hit,crippled over and curled up in a ball,and they looked like they were gonna cry.

“OMG IM SO SORRY! ARE YOU OK?!!!”

“Now I know why they call it the nutcracker”

Dream called Peter for help. She could try picking Lupin up by their shoulder,but they were bigger than her,so the extra help to carry the now crippled and in pain Miguel variant to the nurse,despite their protest that they hate doctors.

Peter arrive a few moments later.

“So how are they doing?” He asked.

“Still in a big ball of crying pain.”

“Well I’ll carry them to the nurse and hold them down,leave em alone in the doctor’s office and they just run from the doctor.”

Dream gave a silent nod and collected her stuff. She felt bad,so later she would ask if they’re ok,if they were not sleeping.

“So same time next week big guy?!”

The only thing they said as he was carried bridal style away was a pained “oooo”

she took that as a yes.

Ok sorry if this seemed longer, I said short but this wasn’t as short as I wanted 😭. I originally had the idea of just going in with the plot short,boom,nutcracker joke and end it but no my brain wanted this I’m sorry 😞. @daydreaming-en-pointe hope you enjoyed it,thank you for giving me permission to write it,might make more for my mutuals if they let me!

[dndtreasury]

Slumberglim the Spell Slinger by Cardboard Anvil

[dndnpcinfo]

Travelling Merchant: Clekt Tink

[thebananabox]

Hello, Tumblr user thebananabox. In front of you is a cardboard box, inside it is a banana. You have fifty-two seconds to use this single banana and cardboard box to make a banana box- What a banana box actually is, is up to your own interpretation, however.

Also, if you fail to create the banana box in fifty-two seconds, an anvil held up by bananas will drop onto Infinite the Jackal's head, violently killing him.

Good luck. Your time starts now.

I desperately wanted to record myself tossing a banana into a box and saying “Done”, but we just ran out, so all I can say is this: He can take it.

He might have an emotional breakdown and develop a whole new identity, maybe put on a new mask over his existing one and talk about how weak the old one is, but still, he can take it.

(Plus he’d probably run away from the bananas like a cat seeing a cucumber, I’m not sure he knows what fruits and vegetables are)

[mrvelocipede]

At some point while I was working on the series of photographs, I discovered that you can get a custom-printed board book. So now I've done that, and the alphabet book exists as an actual thing, which is both oddly satisfying and slightly disconcerting.

The original idea dates back to 2015, according to my files. That would have been when Daughter was quite small, and just learning about letters. Reading books to children is lovely, and is also its own special form of torture, in some ways. Some books are fine; they hold up to the constant repetition of reading and re-reading out loud that is inevitable at that stage. Others...not so much.

I started thinking about an alphabetical series of words that might survive the ordeal of reading-to-toddlers. Over the course of several months, I turned the words over in my mind, tinkering with the rhythms and rhymes, trying to keep within my own arbitrary self-imposed limits (one word per letter, concrete objects if at all possible, so as to allow for illustration, words that were fun and satisfying to say).

I vaguely thought about illustrating my resulting sequence of words, but my life didn't allow for that kind of distraction. I got as far as scribbling some possible page spreads, but that was it.

This summer, though, my nephew is getting to an age where he's excited about books, and likes being read to. And my own life has settled down at least a little bit, such that I have free time to think about larger projects. So that was when I seriously started trying to make the whole series happen.

...and almost immediately ran into my own ridiculously specific ideas about what I wanted the pictures to look like. Did I truly need an anvil to represent iron? No. No, I did not.

However, I did have a few acquaintances or friends-of-friends who might actually have an anvil. I did a small amount of asking around.

Nobody had an anvil. Somebody might know someone who did, but they were out of town. Out of the country, in fact. For at least another month and a half. Ah well.

Eventually it occurred to me that it didn't have to be a real anvil, it just needed to look enough like one for a photograph. In fact, it would be very much easier to set up different location shots if I was using something lightweight and portable, instead of several hundred pounds of ferrous metal. And so I found myself doing sculptural things with cardboard and papier-mâché for the first time in years.

Now I have what basically amounts to a Humorous Cartoon Anvil. It's pretty great. I feel like there are a lot more photographic possibilities to be explored, with this thing.

And I'm giving the printed copy of the book to my nephew, for his upcoming birthday. Huzzah.

[archipithecus]

Eat God Playtest 0.1 Characters

The following is a description of two characters rolled by me and my partner @cardboard-triptych using the character creator from Eat God (Playtest version 0.1) by @prokopetz

Character 1: Click (rolled by me)

I rolled a romantic little cave guy.

Facets: Ethos 4 (Unlucky), Pathos 7 (Romantic), Logos 4 (Witless). This perfectly fits in with what I feel the game is going for, I can definitely see this guy doing a big romantic gesture to someone/something that is in no way interested, and then they trip on a rope and an anvil falls on them.

Traits: Unusual Size (Puny), Fluttering Flight, Bulging Brain. I haven't decided what form the Fluttering Flight takes. I like the idea of inflating like a balloon, or maybe it's a weak form of psychic levitation to compliment Bulging Brain.

The Rebellious Arts: The Art of Iteration: You refute the lie of linear time. I like refuting the idea of linear time, this guy is so romantic they can nuh-uh reality?

Size: 32.5 cm, 0.6 kg. I rolled pretty high on height and low on weight, so when the puny size adjustments were applied, this guy got sillier.

Appearance: mushroom-like growths, translucent flesh, crystalline nodes. I've got a weird little cave guy here. I originally rolled huge or tiny head, but I discarded that because Bulging Brain already gave me a big head.

Creed: Eating God is a metaphor for dismantling structural inequalities and throwing down systems of oppression. Your Rebellious Arts are intellectual exercises; you likely have abstruse quasiscientific explanations for how they operate. I'm not really sure how to reconcile this with my facets and The Art of Iteration, but I'm sure it can be done.

Name: The Sound The Tick The Weighty ⸢Click⸣ of Her Heart Against My Spine, aka Click. This is an except from Beneath the Brine by the Family Crest.

Character 2: No Sir/No Sur (rolled by @cardboard-triptych)

My partner rolled an octopus.

Facets: Ethos 5 (mediocre skill, no adjective category), Pathos. 7 (Sincere), Logos. 3 (Arrogant)

Traits: Flowing Form, Chameleonic, Roving Members. This is an octopus.

The Rebellious Arts: The Art of Ubiquity: You refute the lie of separation. Acting upon things at a distance perfectly fits with Roving Members.

Size: 55 cm, 8 kg

Appearance: no neck, beak, tentacles. This is an octopus.

Creed: The universe hangs in balance between Order and Chaos; your allegiance lies with the latter. Your Rebellious Arts spring from the insight that the laws of God and the laws of man have much in common: it's only a crime if you get caught. This too is an octopus.

Name: Abuse of power comes as ⸢No sur⸣prise, aka No Sir/No Sur (From Jenny Holzer's Truisms). I don't think the spelling is important, chose Sir or Sur on a whim, can these little guys even read? This is an octopus.