#Wire Ring Patterns

[yooladesign]

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[today-i-am-thinking-about]

embroidery thread

[mortal-kingss]

for once, for once in life, i finally felt that someone needed me…

[ID: A fully rendered piece of Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood dancing. The background is stark black, and the main lighting source is warm, coming from slightly below the camera. Jon has his back facing the camera and his face turned to the side, and Martin has his body facing the camera and face also turned to the side. Martin is a tall, fat white man, with vitiligo, and is an avatar of the Web. He has brown hair with white streaks, square glasses, and eight entirely black eyes. He’s smiling with fangs peaking through slightly, and scars in the patterns of cobwebs on his cheek. He’s wearing a brown suit with a white shirt and brown tie. There is a small web design on the collar of the suit with a pendant of a spider, made out of wire and amber. He’s wearing a belt and dark grey pants that fade slowly into a light grey. His left hand is holding Jon’s, and his right hand is pressed against her back. Jon is a shorter, thin Indian person, wearing a dark green satin dress with a small amount of black mesh material on the upper back. Her dark brown and grey hair is long, and is tied back in a loose ponytail, with a gold hairpiece in the shape of an eye, connected by small chains with green gems, to Jhumka earrings. He has multiple eyes on his face, and all are green, looking up at Martin, except for the normal placement of eyes which are closed. He’s wearing gold arm jewelry with eye patterns on them, and his right arm has a henna design and a ring on his finger. His left arm is perched on Martin’s shoulder. End ID]

[luveline]

oooh! just had an idea!!! bombshell reader x spencer where he comes over to her apartment one day on the weekend to suprise her with breakfast/flowers bc they just started dating. however, bombshell is in sweats/no makeup/messy hair when she answers but when she sees its spencer, she FLIPS out/slams the door bc she doesnt want him to see her in that state. spencer, however, is confused ofc because he genuinely doesnt notice her outfit/lack of makeup and thinks she is gorgeous no matter what.

hope this is ok ♡ fem, 1.1k

The song starts slow and ends slower. You could picture Spencer listening to it, his head on your shoulder or yours on his, wired earphones shared between you. 

You grab a pencil to jot a quick post-it note so you'll remember, one knee on your desk chair. You don't want to sit down with the shower running in case you get distracted by your new photo frame.

You and Spencer took a photo to commemorate finally getting together. Or rather, Hotch did, standing behind the camera with an impossible mixture of fondness and disapproval. You look like a true couple with matching graphic t-shirts and beaming smiles, Spencer's arm over your shoulders and yours behind his back. You can't see it without staring; you use all your strength to ignore the photo, pulling your post-it from its pad and tacking the yellow square to your vanity. Tell Spencer about love song from Ocean Boulavard. 

The door to your apartment rings with a knock. If you weren't distracted in your losing don't-think-about-Spencer battle, you'd recognise the timid pattern of it. 

You've been expecting a parcel all weekend. 

"Coming!" you call, tugging a sweater over your vest top, plaid pyjama pants dragging against the floor as you make your way out of your bedroom and into the main living area. "Two seconds!" 

You give yourself a precursory glance in the mirror next to the door before you answer it. You'd never go out like this, but the delivery driver won't see you long. You're mostly clean and fully dressed, though your socks don't match. 

That's another thing to tell Spencer. He must be rubbing off on you. 

"Hello," you say cheerily, pulling the door open with a smile. 

"Hi," Spencer says, big brown eyes aglow at the sight of you, his hands full to bursting. There are enough things in his hands to hide his chest completely. 

You don't have a chance to decipher exactly what he's brought as you flinch behind the cover of the door, not cruel enough to close it in his face, but wanting to. "Spencer! What are you doing here?" 

"Well, you live here." 

His hand comes up tentatively near yours on the door. He doesn't push it further in or attempt to come inside. He might have, if you hadn't squeaked in warning, biting down on the soft inside of your cheek. 

"Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Everything is fine!" You squeeze your eyes closed, your pulse a hummingbird hammering between them. 

"Really?" Spencer asks, taking back his hand. "Can I–"

There's a shuffling sound like he might step forward, and that's the last straw, you're fully panicking as you slam it closed.

A too long silence. Your breath comes unnaturally quickly, your thoughts racing to match. I can't believe I just did that. Why did I do that? 

What do I do? 

"Spencer, I'm naked," you say. 

"You were definitely wearing clothes. What's wrong? I brought breakfast, I thought I'd surprise you. I texted you. When you didn't answer I figured maybe you were still sleeping after last night, but… now I'm thinking maybe I read that wrong."

"You didn't read it wrong! You can always come over!" you insist, looking around behind you as if you might suddenly find a full face of makeup hiding in your sideboard, or a fresh change of clothes hanging on the coat hooks. 

"Okay, so, can I come in?" 

You poke at the sore bit of skin in your cheek with a wince. "Spence, I'm not dressed. Like, I'm not ready. I look like a mess." 

"You looked beautiful. For the two seconds that I could see your face, at least." You breathe in uselessly. An answer doesn't present itself. Spencer offers some wisdom while you panic, but you aren't sure you want to hear it. "We're dating, right? So as much as you clearly don't want me to see you like this, it's gonna happen. Hopefully regularly?" He laughs lightly on the other side of the door. "Can I please come in?" 

Nerves gnaw at your fingers, uncomfortable pins and needles. "What if you don't like it as much?" you ask quietly. You're surprised he can hear you. 

"Do you trust me?"

What sort of question is that? This isn't about trust. This is about you, an image of yourself you hold and that you want others to share, it's why you dress as you do, why you wear your intricate hairstyles, and spend hours upon hours priming and primping.

You want to be pretty deeply, especially in Spencer's eyes. Do you trust him to find you pretty still, without all the extra effort? Pretty from the moment you wake up? 

You wait for the verdict as you open the door again. The handle clicks and lugs, the hinge whining as it swings inward. You step backward to allow him space, meeting Spencer's eyes with an insecurity that doesn't suit you.

He doesn't react at first. His hand tightens around the neck of a sprawling bouquet, wildflowers like a burst of colour against his chest, the long white body of a lily of the valley kissing the curve of his neck. He smells like powdered sugar donuts and the food truck they came from, the story of his obsession a remembered delight. I think of you every time I cross the square to the train station by my place. The warm vanilla smell reminds me of your perfume. But I'm usually already thinking of you. He's been bringing you donuts intermittently for months now. 

He finally smiles at you, all manner of morning warmth flooding the room with him. The sun at his heels, the silky brown colour of his hair, you look up as he steps close, as light silhouettes him, turns the silk to fluff. You can see every detail this close down to the baby flyaways, and he can see the same. 

"How could you think I wouldn't like this?" he asks. His words are hushed with earnestness but yards from hesitant. Spencer is unabashedly, genuinely enamoured with you. "You're so pretty. You always are." 

You beg him silently to hold your face, taking the flowers from his hand. He can read you from that small action alone, raising a deft hand to your cheek. 

You lean into his palm. 

[lovebugism]

the combo "they have to work together and they hit a realization on how its not too bad" + "fuck you" "when" w eddie pleeeasseeee

ty for requesting :D — the kids hatch a plan to get their favorite arcade workers to stop hating each other. it works out a lot better than they thought (enemies to lovers, 1.5k)

You wipe down a few grimy tables — all of which seem to be perpetually sticky at The Palace Arcade — with nothing but a damp cloth and a stubborn determination. You’re interrupted by a finger poking you expectantly in the back. 

You look slowly over your shoulder to find Max Mayfield standing behind you. Her auburn hair is parted into two plaits, and her freckled arms are crossed firmly over her chest. She leads the pack of regular teenage boys that typically accompany her here, obviously meaning business.

“Street fighter?” she wonders vaguely, in the place of any actual greeting.

“Out of commission,” you answer in a monotone before turning back to the table in front of you. You keep scrubbing at the stubborn ring of dried soda until she taps you on the shoulder again. “What?” you say with a dramatic huff.

“I know you got it working again,” Max insists with an arched brow. “Just like I know Keith’s keeping it hostage in the back so no one else can play.”

Both statements are only partially true. 

Eddie Munson and his self-proclaimed magic fingers (which you’ve begged him to stop referring to) managed to bring the dead machine back to life. Mostly. It lives primarily in the back room now, because there’s no use in bringing it out if it’s hardly alive. Keeping it to yourself, and away from the sticky fingers of middle school kids, is just a bonus.

You blink at the kids with a deadpanned stare.

Dustin Henderson, getting the sense that you’re about to shut them down again, decides to blurt, “We’ll help you wipe down the tables!” You meet his offer with an unwavering squint, wondering how far you can push him. He caves immediately. “And… clean the bathrooms.”

Lucas whips his head to the side. “Dustin!” he shouts.

“What?” the curly-haired boy cowers.

“It’s a deal,” you hum with a proud grin. Abandoning your bleach-stained cloth on the wiped-down table, you walk through the group of teenagers and towards the back hallway. “Follow me,” you usher unenthusiastically.

You find that the dead machine is still, in fact, dead when you burst into the back room with a gaggle of high schoolers behind you. 

Eddie’s popped open the bottom compartment to try and bring it to life again. He lies on his back with the top half of his body swallowed in the machine, working on the inside wires with lanky, tattooed arms. The hem of his shirt rides slightly upward, revealing the softness of his stomach and the trail of hair sprinkled there.

With your senses partially delayed by the strangely pretty sight, you don’t catch the kids running out of the room until they slam the door in your face. You rattle the metal knob with an aggressive hand. It refuses to budge.

“Ugh— You little shits!” you shout at the closed door.

Eddie, startled by the sudden chaos, bangs his head on the machine when he sits up. “Shit,” he grimaces once he’s fully in view again. He rubs at the top of his skull and squints over at you. “What the hell’s going on?”

“They locked us in here,” you grouse.

“Who?” the boy wonders with his face twisted in confusion and very distant disgust. “Why?”

“You’re not coming out until you kiss and make up,” you hear Dustin Henderson instruct, though his lisp is mostly muffled through the shut door.

“When I get out of here, you guys are dead,” you threaten in a monotone to the out-of-sight teens. “You know that, right?”

“We’ll take that risk,” Lucas snickers.

You huff when you hear them shuffle down the hall again, leaning your weight on the locked door with your eyes fluttered shut. Eddie just watches you, still sitting in the same position on the vibrantly patterned carpet. “I’m confused…” he mumbles after a few seconds of heavy silence.

“Unsurprising,” you scoff.

Eddie laughs to himself. The boyish sound strikes nothing short of inhuman rage in your chest. An impossible fire to breathe through. “Well, you’re particularly bitchy this morning,” he lilts and rises from the ground.

“I’m supposed to be working, but instead, I’m stuck in here with you,” you deadpan. “So I think I’m allowed to be a little bitchy right now, Munson.”

“Well… I’m on break, so…” He flashes you a stupid pink grin as he reaches for the outdated Pacman machine, which has conveniently plated his PB&J. He plucks the sandwich from the napkin it sits on and takes a sloppy bite. Jelly smears along the corner of his mouth. Your face swirls with disgust at the sight.

You turn back around and bang at the door with a closed fist. “Alright! You can let us out now!” you yell, hoping someone can hear you. “This isn’t funny anymore!”

“Stop trying. It’s too late,” Eddie mumbles with his mouth full. “They’re long gone. Probably for the next several hours… Either until Dustin beats his Dragon’s Lair high score or until one of them gets home and thinks to themselves… ‘Wait. I feel like I forgot something…’”

He rambles mindlessly to himself while he tugs the brown crust off his sandwich. He pops the piece of bread into his mouth and flits his gaze back to you. He finds you swallowing down a smile. ‘Cause you refuse to let the freak make you laugh.

“Whatever. I’m not taking the fall for this,” you huff and shake your head. 

You sit on the cracked pleather stool across the room from Eddie, in front of a deconstructed machine. The boy scoffs at your dramatics. “Shut up. Keith loves you. We both know I’m gonna be the one getting blamed for this shit.”

“Good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “This is your fault somehow.”

“Trust me, sweetheart. This isn’t any better for me than it is for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

Eddie downs the rest of his sandwich in another too big bite. “Getting locked in a room with the Princess of Hawkins High isn’t exactly a bucket list item for me,” he says through the mouthful, then licks peanut butter off the pad of his thumb. “It’s more of a waking nightmare, honestly.”

You try hard to stay composed. You know he’s just fishing for a response. He wants you to be angry, and the problem is it’s working. You break before you mean to. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you bite, eyes narrowed in a challenging squint.

The boy approaches you with a tightlipped smile. He peers at you beneath his lashes, half-hidden in his hair as he flashes you an innocent look. “When?” he quips.

He towers over you while you stay sitting, scowling up at him with an emotionless glare. “You’re insufferable,” you deadpan after a few long moments.

Eddie’s grin widens. “I know.”

“And I hate you,” you press, just to really drive it home. 

You might be overcompensating. Just a little. Almost like you’re prefacing what you know you’re about to do. ‘Cause he’s close enough to kiss and too pretty for his own good. The proximity is maddening.

“Wanna makeout about it?” Eddie smirks.

You don’t humor him with a response. You just grab him by the neck of his Palace Arcade tee and drag his mouth down to yours. The kiss is full of tongue and teeth, passionate with hate and a lingering fury. 

His lips are softer than flower petals and taste faintly of sweet jelly. He kisses you with his delicate mouth, hard enough to knock you into the broken machine behind you. He holds the wooden edge of it with one ringed hand and cradles the back of your neck with the other. The thing hits the wall every time his tongue swipes against your own. 

His touch is achingly loud. The rattling of the door knob across the room almost goes unheard. You hear the comically loud squeal of rusted hinges and push apart from each other like you’ve suddenly caught the plague. 

You swipe Eddie’s spit from your mouth with the back of your hand as Keith bursts into the room — with wide-eyed teenagers standing behind him.

“What the hell!” Eddie gapes, lips rosy and softly swollen.

“Sorry…” Lucas winces. “We thought we heard banging.”

“I told them not to bother you,” Max chirps knowingly from behind him.

“We were scared you guys we’re, like, actually fist fighting or something,” Mike confesses.

You rise from the stool, keeping several conspicuous inches between you and Eddie. You nod and pull your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “Well, we were actually, so…”

“Fist fighting?” Dustin echoes.

“Yep.”

“With… your mouths?”

You swallow hard. “…Uh-huh.”

Silence lulls over the tiny backroom, making it feel that much more suffocating. You decide to make your escape with a heavy sigh, shoving past the bodies in the doorway without so much as a look their way. 

Eddie follows behind you — not because he’s on the same mission, but because your ass looks really good in those jeans.

“God…” Keith grumbles behind him, in his signature slurred monotone. “This is so coming out of your paychecks.”

[inoreuct]

i actually desperately need 40y/o zoro with reading glasses. thin wire frames with teensy rectangular lenses perched on his nose as he peers down at one of sanji’s french romance novels to see what all the fuss is about— after so many years with his husband he’s picked up a bit of the language and sanji has a stack of them on the nightstand and he’s bored, alright? sanji has something to wrap up at the restaurant and he might as well. he’s farsighted and squints at everything near him and it makes him look even grouchier than usual and the fact that he’s graying at the temples doesn’t help. he looks terrifyingly severe with all his scars and his frowning, until he smiles— he’s been doing that a lot more lately, and then people realise that’s why he has crow’s feet around his eyes. i need him to have a collection of bottles that he’s fiercely protective over; they’re all empty and the labels are faded to hell, but point to any one and he can tell you where it had been drunk. there’s a beer bottle from the first night he’d sailed with luffy. a sweet rum they’d popped to celebrate usopp’s return. the champagne from when he and sanji had gotten married.

i need 40y/o sanji with long, long hair that he ties and pins and styles differently every day. sometimes he makes decorative sourdough and he matches his braids to the patterns. i need him taking on protégés in his restaurant, guiding a new generation of culinary genius even though teenagers are fucking terrifying and annoying and argumentative, because he remembers being exactly like them and at the end of it they’re good kids. they listen to him (…to an extent). they’re sweet and talented and they do absolutely crazy shit in the process of trying to push their boundaries; sometimes they trip and fall, but it’s fine. that’s how they learn. that’s what sanji’s for, as their safety net and their mentor— he’ll give them shit for it and pick them up anyway, nag them while brusquely brushing off their knees. but sometimes, sometimes, they come up with something extraordinary, and sanji gets so proud he could cry. zeff drops by and nags at him for everything under the damn roof. sanji doesn’t mind it.

i need them in their kitchen, in the morning, when sanji’s far too chipper and zoro’s not awake enough, nursing a cup of coffee and half-asleep again at the table as sanji fries their eggs. i need zoro to have one of those old man rocking chairs that he settles into to watch the sunset and drink tea, because sanji’s managed to get him into tea of all things. he’d have never imagined liking matcha a decade ago. i need that rocking chair to be big enough for two so that sanji can curl into his side and thumb through yet another of his novels. i need zoro braiding his hair and falling asleep halfway. i need sanji pulling his glasses off when they slip down his nose and dragging his husband to bed so that he doesn’t bitch about his back hurting the next day. i need them at sanji’s restaurant, teaching the kids about food and liquor pairings— they’re a little terrified of zoro until he squints and pulls his specs out to read the labels, after which they’re running around calling him old man and grandpa roronoa. zoro fumes because for fuck’s sake, he’s forty, not ninety. he’s not old. he brings a bottle of wine three inches away from his face and sanji does nothing to stop the kids at all.

just— zoro with reading glasses. sanji with long hair. doing mundane, boring things that make them happy because they never expected to live this long anyway. zoro’s down to two earrings and sanji has one. their rings are woven straw pulled from luffy’s hat. they have a little motored dinghy out back that franky made for the times they need to go haul their captain’s ass out of trouble (as usual), but none of the crew are ever very far from each other. they stay at sanji’s restaurant in the all blue and occasionally fend off people from their past looking for revenge. or money. or to eat them out of the house and home, in luffy’s case, which then leads to zoro den den-ing the rest of the lot and sighing that they might as well come over for a cookout.

they’ve all gotten older; a little banged up and scruffed around the edges, but alive and well. nami’s making bank as a mapmaker who caters to the wealthy/insurance agent/financial advisor— zoro scoffs and calls her a swindling witch, to which she smiles at him all sweet before stomping solidly on his foot with her red-bottom heel. out of their conjoining workshops, franky and usopp have started a wildly successful demo-smithing company that specialises in custom explosives and bespoke carpentry. robin owns and maintains the most extensive archive of books any of them have ever heard of, and it’s pretty much lauded as one of the greatest libraries of all time; brook does gigs in jazz lounges and bistro bars, jinbei’s a diplomat who’s well-respected for campaigning for equal rights, and chopper runs his own medical practice. luffy, as usual, is doing whatever he wants, which is a little bit of everything. y’know, taking down corrupt governments and all that.

sanji feeds them like he’s always done and zoro brings out the good alcohol to pass around.

life’s good.

[sunshinehaze1]

Too Sexy for This

Pairing: Javi P x wife!reader

Summary: You’ve been encouraging Javi to refresh his 70s wardrobe. He decides 1994 will be the year he finally makes the change, but is this a resolution he can keep?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. post-s3 Javi. established relationship, smut, oral (m), unprotected PiV, creampie, reader has hair that can be pulled into a messy bun

a/n: this was written for @beefrobeefcal New Year, Same Peña Challenge. I’m so sorry I’m late to post, but I wanted to throw it into the void anyways. obvs “posting on time for fic challenges” was NOT one of my NY resolutions.🫣 Thank you @80ssong for the beta! ❤️ I hope you enjoy! Fun Fact (maybe?): the runner-up for my fic title was “JCPena” 😏

word count: 2,889

ao3 | ml

Javi watches as the mirrored ball descends in Times Square, the cheers of the crowd echo on TV, and Dick Clark officially proclaims the start of 1994—a year brimming with opportunity and fresh beginnings. You and Javi chose to enjoy a relaxed evening at home to ring in the new year. Work has been particularly taxing for both of you and late nights navigating rowdy drunk crowds lost their charm long ago. 

You've already passed out, sleeping for the last hour or so with your head resting in Javi's lap. He gently brushes your hair away from your face and whispers sweetly in your ear, "It's time for bed, baby." 

Javi helps you settle into bed, and you quickly fall back asleep. He isn't as fortunate. Thoughts race through his mind about his intentions and resolutions for the new year ahead. Reflecting on conversations you've had with him regarding his "dated" wardrobe and the need to "refresh" it to be more "on-trend," Javi scoffed, dismissing the idea that his current style of tight bootcut jeans, collared shirts, yellow aviators, corduroy blazers, and Members Only bomber jackets wasn't still fashionable. 

He feels confident in his clothes; they worked for him in Colombia and in attracting you. When you first met Javi, you always commented on how tight his jeans were and how sexy he looked. Why does he need to change how he dresses now? Just because we're in a new decade, and fashion magazines dictate what's in and what's out? Nevertheless, your encouragement was persistent. Your stubbornness was something he loved about you; you challenged him. 

With six years to go until the new millennium, Javi decides to take the plunge and revamp his wardrobe. What matters most is that It will make you happy. Happy wife, happy life. 

The next day, Javi finds himself at the mall, navigating the JCPenney clothes racks. As he sifts through silk button-ups adorned with abstract patterns in rich jewel tones and coordinating pleated baggy pants, he pulls a few outfits from the rack and heads to the fitting rooms. 

One by one, he tries on each outfit. They all conceal his slim frame. The flow of the shirts cascades over his broad shoulders, billowing at the waist with the excess fabric tucked into his pants. A shiny leather belt highlights his waist. He examines himself in the mirror, turning left and right to inspect the outfit from every angle. The pants make his lower half appear like a balloon. Javi shakes his head. How is this fashionable?

He tries on the last few outfits, still unsure whether this style suits him. However, he'll give it a try for your sake. Hesitantly, Javi gathers the outfits. As he heads to the cashier, he pauses at a rack of sunglasses and selects a pair of wire-framed glasses with oval lenses. He figures he might as well go all in.

As he approaches the register, the young woman's eyes scan Javi's body. His shirt buttons strain at their limits, and his jeans cling to his hips, revealing a prominent outline of what lies hidden beneath the coarse fabric. Somehow, in 1994, this '70s style suits him. She wonders why he's buying all these loose-fitting clothes. Then she notices the gold band on his left hand; it all makes sense now. You assume his wife must have encouraged him to update his wardrobe. With a friendly smile, she greets Javi, "Did you find everything you needed today?" 

"Yes, thank you. I just hope my wife approves," he jokes.

You greet Javi as he walks through the door with his hands full. You finished your errands an hour ago and were surprised to find the house empty. Reading the store branding on the bags, "Sooo," you tease, "What were you up to today?" 

"I thought I'd finally get with the times." He lifts the bags up with a shrug.

You chuckle and lean in for a soft peck on the lips, "Alright then, show me what you got!"

You follow Javi into the bedroom, where he sets the bags down on the bed. He takes out each item, holding them against himself. You nod in approval for every piece. Anticipation builds as you look forward to seeing how the clothes will fit him, thrilled that he has finally embraced contemporary styles. 

Just a couple of weeks into the new year, Javi still isn't sold on this change. He's been working at a private firm since retiring from the DEA and his co-workers have been giving him shit, surprised that he's made such a drastic shift. He's starting to sense that you aren't as thrilled with his new wardrobe, either. 

Usually, you can't keep your hands off each other. You practically jump on him the moment he walks in the door; you rarely go more than two days without being intimate. But it's been nearly two weeks since he's had you, and he's beginning to think you no longer find him as attractive.

He sighs and contemplates whether this resolution is a good idea; he's trying so hard to stick to it. "I am NOT a quitter!" he thinks to himself. He steels himself with the same grit and determination that helped him take down the Cali Cartel, and he's sure he can see this through. 

Another week and a half passes, and Javi isn't sure how much more he can handle. His confidence is shattered. His coworkers aren't taking him seriously. He isn't receiving the attention he craves from you. When he asks you if everything is okay, you brush him off with the cliché excuse that you're "just tired." 

You feel guilty; after all, this was your idea. However, you know Javi is stubborn and doesn't give in easily, but these baggy clothes just don't work for you or him. They look great on the models in fashion magazines, so you thought they'd suit Javi as well. But his build is better suited for 70s fashion. His lean frame, broad shoulders, and tapered waist deserve denim that hugs his hips and thighs so tightly that he has to forego underwear. 

You can tell his confidence is at an all-time low—something you've never seen in your man before. You miss your cool and confident Javi. It's time to talk to him so he knows he no longer has to keep up the charade and decide to bring it up over dinner. 

"Baby, I know you're not into this new wardrobe." 

Javi doesn't want to let you down. "No, no, it's fine. I'm just still getting used to it." 

"Javi, it really isn't your style. I appreciate you making the effort, and I'm sorry I pushed you so hard to change."

Your admission relieves Javi, who wasn't sure how much longer he could tolerate this ridiculous wardrobe. Not only did it shake his confidence, it impacted his swagger. He felt as if he walked more slowly, the resistance of the billowy pants and tops hindering him. 

The following day, Javi returns to his old wardrobe, thankful that he did not get rid of anything. He packs the new clothes and drops them off at the donation center on his way to work, hopeful they'll find a new home. 

You're lying on the couch reading the latest issue of Cosmo when Javi walks through the door. You've been busy reading up on the latest ways to satisfy your lover in bed—storing away ideas to try with Javi. When he enters the room, you peek over the couch and see that your old Javi is back. Since you left the house before him this morning, you hadn't seen what he wore to work today.

Your gaze travels up and down his body, landing on his bulge, visible and on display for you in his tight jeans. Oh, how you've missed it. Your mouth starts to water, and Javi catches you staring, "My eyes are up here, honey." He winks.

Lifting your gaze to meet his eyes, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and admire your handsome husband. How you ever thought he'd look better in anything other than the clothes he feels the most comfortable in is something you could kick yourself for. 

The hunger in your eyes sends warmth up his body, and his cock twitches in his jeans. He walks over to the front of the couch to get a better look at you. You're wearing his DEA t-shirt, which has been washed and worn so often that it's practically tissue-thin. Your perked nipples protrude through the fabric. You may as well not have bothered with the soft shorts you have on, which barely cover your shapely thighs. You are a vision with your hair in a messy bun, tendrils falling along your temples. 

You sit upright to take him in, placing your hands on his hips as he stands between your legs. With an eager smile, you slip your fingers into his belt loops and pull him down toward you, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. You let out a muffled whimper when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. The kiss is so intense that it knocks Javi off balance, causing his knees to buckle and him to collapse on top of you. You both burst into laughter as he shifts his weight onto his palms, sinking into the couch cushion to avoid crushing you. 

In a fervor, you pull him closer to you, comforted by his weight. He begins to grind his hips into you, your slick arousal sticking to your shorts as his cock grinds into your core. His length strains against the front of his jeans. Beads of precum coat the zipper's teeth without the barrier of underwear. You move your hands down his body to unfasten his jeans and release his cock from the rough confines. Swiping the precum that leaks from his tip, you coat his thick head and slowly slide the foreskin up and down. With his eyes fluttered shut, his head lolls back, emitting a heavy groan. The ministrations of your delicate fingers along his most sensitive area overwhelm him, especially after weeks of not experiencing your touch.

He peppers your cheek and nose with kisses while one hand travels underneath your shirt, lifting it enough to expose your gorgeous tits. He cups the soft mounds in his palm and captures your hardened buds between his fingers, tweaking them gently, making you squirm at the sensation as it roils through your body down to your core. "I need to see you, baby," you moan. 

You're desperate to see all of him. In your haste, you pull apart his shirt, causing the buttons to fly across the room and bounce around the living room floor. You press your palms flat against his tanned chest, smooth and strong, and lift your head up to trace along his collarbone and down his sternum with your tongue. Flicking the tip of your tongue around his nipple and then attending to the other with the same care. 

You coax Javi to sit back against the couch and relax. Bending over to kiss him, you make your way down his body, leaving gentle kisses, slowing down as you approach the patch of hair that is neatly trimmed above his cock. You take a deep breath, inhaling his heady musk, which is uniquely Javi. He emits an exasperated sigh while you gaze up at him through hooded eyes, palming his cock. He's getting antsy, desperate for you to take him in your mouth.

His large palm cradles the back of your head. With his fingers tangled through your hair, he gently encourages you to move your attention lower. Your soft hand wraps around his length as you take languid strokes along his shaft before wrapping your lips around the tip, teasing the seam with kitten licks. 

"Oh, fuck. I've missed your mouth.." Javi tilts your face up to look at him, his dick still between your lips. "Go on, take all of him."

You nod and take his entire length into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Your eyes watering, you take breaths through your nose so you can hold him there. Savoring the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. Javi's breathing increases with heavy pants as he watches you take him, all of him. He gently swipes away at a tendril that has fallen over your face, obstructing his view of your eyes. 

You pull off of him to catch your breath, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth. Javi thumbs away at the stray tear falling down your cheek. You thank him with a wink and begin to lap kitten licks over his tip before running your tongue down his length and then taking him again in your mouth. Bobbing up and down, hollowing your cheeks at a steady pace. Javi pulls you off of him abruptly, "You keep that up, baby; I'm not going to be able to fill up that pretty pussy of yours."

Smugly, you smirk and move to your feet, grasping Javi's face between your hands and leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, "Fucking fill me up then!"

Javi whips you around, one of his hands wrapped around both of your wrists. He rips off your sleep shorts with his other hand and swiftly bends you over the couch arm. Pleased to see your pussy on full display, as you weren't wearing any panties. He strokes his cock while his other hand palms over your lush cheeks. His fingers make their way to your weeping center and swipe through your folds. You buck forward as his fingertip brushes over your clit, already so sensitive to his touch. 

"You're always so fucking wet for me."

"Always, Javi."

Javi pulls your hips high in the air, balancing on your tip toes, and presses your chest down into the cushions. He runs his cock through your seam to coat it with your arousal, eliciting a moan when the tip catches your clit. 

"Are you going to keep teasing, or are you going to fuck me, Javi?"

With that, he notches at your hole and thrusts into you until his pelvis slams into your ass. "Is this what you want?"

The pleasurable sting of his cock plunging through your walls has left you speechless, and all you can do is nod into the couch. "hmm? I couldn't hear that."

You muffle a "yes" into the downy cushion. 

"That's my girl!"

He begins a relentless pace, pounding into you. "You're so fucking tight. Fuck!" 

His balls slap against your clit with each thrust. The combination of Javi's cock and the brush of your nipples against the soft faded fabric of your t-shirt sends immense pleasure throughout your body. You feel warmth roil in your core, your arousal increasing with every pass of his cock through your walls. His hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, as he pulls you back into his hips with each thrust, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. 

Javi feels your walls tightening around him; he bends forward over you, the weight of his body pushing you further into the cushion. His hot breath against your ear, "I can feel you, baby." he reaches around your front and begins to thumb your clit, "You going to cum for me?"

"Fuck…" you gasp, "Yes, Javi! Yes! Yes! Yes!" 

Wailing as your body shudders through your orgasm. Your pussy grips his cock so tightly it only takes a few more thrusts before Javi's cum floods your pussy. 

He leaves soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, gentle nibbles along your earlobe before a husky whisper, "Your pussy hugs my cock as tight as my jeans." 

You chortle and playfully smack his shoulder with the back of your hand, "Javi!"

He chuckles, smacking more kisses along your cheek before he pulls himself off of you. Begrudgingly, he removes his softening cock from your warmth. He'd stay inside you forever if he could.

As his thick head exits your hole, he admires your combined arousal leaking out of you and onto your thighs. You are his, and he is yours. 

Stlll in your fucked out haze, you hear the faucet turn on in the bathroom and then Javi's heavy footfalls, followed by a gentle wet warmth of a washcloth. He moves slowly, careful not to arouse your oversensitive clit. After he wipes his cock, he discards the washcloth on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. 

You shift to your side, and Javi squeezes in behind you. Both of you bare; he wraps his arm around your stomach, warm skin pressed against each other. You tilt your head to face him with a sly smirk stretching across your lips, "Mmm, I'm so glad you didn't get rid of your old clothes." 

"There was no way I was going to get rid of those. Not when my ass looks THAT good!" Laughing, he snuggles his nose into your neck, inhaling your post-sex scent, mixing with your perfume. 

Your breaths begin to steady in tandem as you drift off to sleep, and Javi thinks to himself, "Better luck next year." 

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

tagging a few folks who may be interested in reading: @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @ak-vintage @peepawispunk @half-moon16 (let me know if you'd prefer I not clog your notifs)

[alllgator-blood]

I have ten billion WIP sketches I need to finish, but for some reason I stayed up from 9 PM to 4 AM conceptualizing, making patterns, sewing, painting and applying makeup on this stupid fucking felt squid......the detailing needs to be cleaned up cause there's only one coat of paint so far, but he's pretty much done

my neighbors probably think I'm insane because I was running around the yard clenching this toy kallamar in a death grip and flying him around like an airplane/putting him in the barbecue/poking him with a stick. I want to tie him to a string and recreate the opening of napoleon dynamite >:) ALSO I MADE HIM SMOKE OUT OF A STUPID CRYSTAL PIPE BUT PLEASE DON'T ACTUALLY USE THOSE, THEY ARE SUPER TOXIC LMAO MINE IS FOR DECORATION

I don't have any process pics because I had tunnel vision autism style and forgot the rest of the universe existed while I was working on him. BUT if you're curious I'll ramble below the cut

Okay I am not a seamstress by any means. I've sewn my entire life but very, very infrequently. I've done plushies, clothes, cosplays, fursuits, accessories, etc. but I only do one like once a year, so while I planned to make all 5 bishops, I'm not really sure I'll get them all done. The material cost was like 20 bucks tops so I'm not too upset if I don't finish them. I AT LEAST WANT TO GET SHAMURA OR HEKET DONE.

here is the concept sketch ft. heket's toes and shamura's fingers. I decided to do his pre-schism version so I could fit him with jewelry! I did him first because like I said I sew infrequently and don't know wtf I'm doing, everyone else seemed a lot more complicated.

So I basically just traced this drawing on a printer paper-sized canvas in SAI, and guesstimated how everything would look in a 3D space. His head is four pieces, one triangle identical to the one in the picture, two wide triangles that are sewn together in the back, and a circle for his chin. You can't really see it in any of the pics but he's literally like a black cylindrical stick with little tentacles sewn on where his mantle connects to his cloak. The leg tentacles are one piece of felt that look like tassels, where they're connected by a rectangle but branch off into individual pieces. He can't stand up very well, so his cape keeps him up (that's gonna be an issue for every other bishop too except heket cause she's gonna be ROUND). Mostly everything like the crown, cloak, head, etc. are cones so I just had to make a lot of wide triangles.

For the details, I just used acrylic paint that was watered down so he's not especially crunchy, and for the blush tone I used a makeup palette my mom bought me 10 years ago in hopes I'd get in touch with my "feminine side", but I grew up into a nonbinary butch lesbian so OOPS. Kallamar looks better with makeup than me anyway. I'm kinda sad I couldn't get his freckles as lopsided as I draw them but it probably looks better in plush form to have them even anyway....

I could just post the pattern so I don't have to explain this but 1. I am mentally ill about the thought of my kallamar being in someone else's house and 2. the original pattern had to be tweaked while I was working on him so the final pattern straight up doesn't exist, I winged it the whole time

OH and the jewelry is just scrap pieces I had laying around, I might repaint it all to be gold instead of silver + bronze. I used 20g aluminum wire for his armlet thing, jumper rings for his earrings + ring (+ a diamond dot from my mom's kits for the gem) and chain for the bracelet. I made him an amulet as well but it felt like overkill so I took it off. I'm probably gonna make him a plague doctor mask and medicine bag sometime because I think about nurse kallamar more than I probably should :') I've already sewn one as a prop for a toy raven before so it shouldn't be too hard

[creepa-b0t-inc]

EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS

i am poor and jobless so sknfkalhflshnklf ALSO I JUST UPDATED THE PRICES

[image id: An image of @creepa-b0t-inc on tumblr's emergency commission sheet. All text is in the deltarune/undertale font. Each section end is marked with a white line connecting the white border that outlines the entire image. The background is transparent.

The first section reads "HI! I have built up the courage to open emergency COMMISIONS!!! I mainly work in Deltarune/Undertale style art. HERE ARE MY PRICES!!!! [It would be greatly preferred if you could provide any ideas or concepts for designs, because I am sadly not that good at design. I will try my best though!]" with a note off to the right side reading "!!! I SOMETIMES TAKE A LONG WHILE!!" and "!!BE PREPARED TO WAIT!!". All text is white, except for the 'HI!' which is yellow, and 'emergency' and the side note, which are in red.

The second section lists off examples and prices for commissions. The top left has white text stating "OVERWORLD SPRITES (next line) $20-$80 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 5 examples:

An image of Jockington from Deltarune from four different angles, front, left side, right side, and behind view.

An image of Starlight Glimmer from My Little Pony standing on her hind legs and curled around herself like a worm, covering her mouth with her hoof and smiling, looking at the viewer mockingly.

An image of a cockroach sitting on a bench reading a newspaper. it has a brown fedora and looks unimpressed.

An image of BIGSHOT.ex from Puredawns, with his left hand on his hip, smiling. He is wearing pink and black boots, black pants, and a pink suit top with a yellow tie. He has a purple and black cape and there are yellow rings around his wrists and knees.

A collection of 16 walking sprites of Noelle from Puredawns. She is wearing a long white hooded coat with icy blue accent marks, icy blue wings, and the hood down. Her color palette is much colder than usual.

The top right has white text stating "UNDERTALE STYLE BATTLE SPRITES (next line) $40-$100 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 4 examples:

An image of Exposition Guy made by Kevin Temmer Tunes holding a spoon in black and white.

An image of Spider Guy by Jaiden Animations in black in white, except for the pupil of its eyes which are red.

An image of Jaiden Animations in black and white. She is wearing a white hoodie with black accent marks and black sleeves.

A black and white image of an aimkid style dog character wearing socks, gloves, and armor with its left hand on its hip and its right hand holding a giant meat cleaver with a bumpy end, like a comb.

The bottom left has white text saying "DELTARUNE STYLE BATTLE SPRITES (next line) $40-$100 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 4 examples:

An image of Pibby from Learning with Pibby, a small light blue character with pink/light purple hair buns.

An image of a large sky-blue computer with a control panel and 2 rocket engines propelling itself into the air, along with two colder-blue speakers on the computer's left and right sides, also being propelled by their own respective rocket engines. The circle part of the speakers are alternative white and black circles and the computer screen is black except for a green outline of Queen from Deltarune.

An image of an angry looking robot character. it is a dull blue with light yellow accent marks and purple wires sticking out of its back. it's face is a pixelated red screen. It has thick, blue vent-hose like legs with 2 large blue, metal feet. They are accented with a caution pattern in light yellow.

A collection of 5 sprites of Night in the Woods characters-from left to right: Mae, Gregg, Bea, Angus, and Germ-all looking angry except for Germ and Mae. Mae is holding a baseball bat with two hands behind herself, Gregg is holding a crossbow with his right hand, Bea is smoking and holding a pickaxe with both hands, Angus has his hands on his hips, and Germ has his hands in his pockets with a possum on his head.

The bottom right has white text saying "DIALOGUE EXPRESSIONS (next line) $20-$60 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]". Below and to the side of this there are 4 examples:

A colored image of Flowey from Undertale's head.

A collection of 6 images of Rouxls Kaard from Deltarune's face, each expressing a different emotion. From left to right, the expressions go: smiling with teeth, open mouth smiling, open mouth smiling with wide eyes, smiling with teeth and wide eyes, smiling with teeth and winking, and smiling with teeth and both eyes closed.

A collection of 7 images of an ice cap (with sunglasses) from Undertale's face, each expressing a different emotion. From left to right, the expressions go: neutral with tired eyes, neutral with wide eyes, surprised, angry, maniacal laughing, evilly grinning, and nervous/looking off to the side, sweating.

A collection of 3 images, each containing a different expression portrayed by op's oc. the oc is a reddish-pink flower with a green stem and its petals behind its face with a loose strand, as if it is hair. The expressions portrayed, from left to right, go: smiling, smugly grinning, and angrily yelling.

The third sections begins with white text saying "DELTARUNE BATTLE MOCKUP (next line) $200 (next line) [This could take me a while to finish, so I'll only take on ONE of these at a time.]" Below this is two example images:

An image of a Deltarune-style battle scene with Night in the Woods characters. There is a red bar on the left side of the screen that has white text next to it vertically reading "TP 0%" and a menu with a text box on the bottom containing Mae and Gregg, Mae with 150/150 HP and Gregg with 170/170.Mae's icon is in light blue and Gregg's is in orange. It appears as if the user is selecting what to do with Mae's turn, hovering over the fight button. In the text box below, there is white text that reads "* The cultists strike back!". The fight setting is in a grassy area in front of a red, sunken furnace with bricks surrounding it. On the left towards the top, Mae is holding a baseball bat behind herself with both hands, and below her Gregg is holding a crossbow with his right hand, his left hand in front of him, looking angry. On the right, there are two identical looking cuktists in brown, hooded robes and boots holding shotguns.

An image of a Deltarune-style battle scene with Night in the Woods characters. There is a red bar on the left side of the screen that has white text next to it vertically reading "TP 0%" and a menu with a text box on the bottom containing Mae with 150/150 HP. It appears as if the user is selecting what to do with Mae's turn, hovering over the fight button. Mae's icon is light blue. In the text box below, there is text that reads "* CASEY awaits your first move." The text is shakey, and all white except for 'CASEY', which is blue with glitching text behind it. The fight setting is in a starry sky area, with the head of the Sky Cat watching Mae. On the left is Mae in a blue color pallette entirely except for her pupils, which are red. She is holding a baseball bat behind her with two hands. On the right is Casey, a shadowy cat figure whearing a long coat. He has glowing white eyes and facial features with a glowing blue outline.

The fourth section begins with red text that states "THINGS I WILL NOT DRAW:" with a lower opacity, larger 'NOT' behind the main text to create an echoey effect. Below this is a bulleted list in white text containing "NSFW, RACIST/BIGOTED THINGS, NFTS, (and) ANYTHING I DON'T WANT TO". Beneath this is a bit of text that says "SO, feel free to message me on either Tumblr or my Discord, @creepabotinc." with '@creepabotinc' in yellow text. /end id.]

[bigfootsboytoy]

A lot of people love to talk about teacher!Steve and I've seen people speculate about him teaching History, or English or Gym. But hear me out...Art Teacher.

Steve Harrington, who took art as an elective in highschool thinking it would be an easy grade, but who ends up actually really enjoying it. He likes the satisfaction of making something and the methodical process of doing it. Later in life he knows he wants to work with kids, but he doesn't think he would be happy trying to teach any of the core subjects like math or English, he never cared for them much himself, and even the classes he liked he wasn't super skilled in. Then he thinks back to that art class, remembers how much he enjoyed himself, and he finds himself taking classes towards a teaching degree a few months later.

After a while, Steve finds himself with a job teaching art at a local middle school. He loves it. He loves working with the kids, even though most of them are little assholes. Apparently, that isn't unique to the party. All young kids are kind of assholes. But they're also funny, and they put thought into the projects he gives them. He always gives them a lot of wiggle-room creatively, giving assignments that focus on certain techniques like painting or working with clay, but allowing them to choose the subject matter themselves. He works alongside them, making his own little projects. He isn't VanGogh by any means, but he kind of likes that. It helps show his students that they can have fun with the art and really make something they can be proud of without worrying about it being perfect or looking like something they would see in a museum. His students adore him. They tease him and make fun of him, but at the end of the day, almost every student who takes his class ends up raving about it to their friends. Parents he meets on occasion love him too. And only partially because he looks hot as hell with his glasses and his paint-stained apron.

At the end of a project, he has everyone go around and talk about what they made. He isn't picky. They can talk about their favorite part of making it, the story behind it, why they chose certain colors, and parts they struggled with. Any little bit of extra information about the project is enough to get the points. He wasn't expecting them to rope him into it when he first started. Now, he fully expects the questions they ask whenever he shows off a project with them.

The first project is charcoal drawings, and Steve draws a weird looking bat with a crazy mouth and no eyes. He tells the class that a bunch of his family play DND, and they have really vivid imaginations. It isn't a lie.

Next they do sand-art and Steve makes a set of patterns comprised of bright, vivid colors. Oranges and pinks and greens. He tells the class it represents his best friend, who is one of his favorite people in the world. A week later he tells the class that he showed her the sand art and she declared it the ugliest thing she had ever seen, then proceeded to hang it in her room with a bright smile on her face.

During the sculpting unit, he makes a homemade mug, with little fish carved on the side. He tells the class his father-in-law collects mugs, and this one is going to be a birthday gift.

The class seemed to like sculpting, so he does a unit on wire-art. He makes a small wire guitar and a wire ring. The class ask, with shit eating grins, if he's got somebody he's planning on proposing to. He happily tells them he already proposed, this ring is just for fun, since his partner loves to wear them.

Steve's small apartment fills up over the years with tons of art projects gifted to him by his students, paintings and drawings hanging on the walls, and a whole bookshelf dedicated to the 3D work. He remembers that first part class he took sometimes, back when he was just a sad kid who's friends were all assholes, he was a bit of an asshole himself, who didn't know that horrible things existed just under his feet. He thinks back on it fondly enough, but he couldn't be happier that he isn't that kid anymore. He's pretty damn pleased being the teacher now.

[marveltrumpshate]

Want to participate in Marvel Trumps Hate, but don't know what to offer? Think outside the box!

Stumped on what to offer because you don't write fic or draw? Marvel Trumps Hate welcomes a huge variety of fanworks and fan labor (see our sign-up post), so there are different ways you can contribute. You'll be amazed by the breadth of skills, talents, knowledge, and types of creative expression found in fandom!

Here's a smorgasbord of offers that we've either had before or seen people discuss as possibilities for MTH 2024 or future years to help inspire you. What you can offer is not restricted to the list below; these are just examples to get you brainstorming about what you can auction off because trust us, even if you think you might not have something to offer, you probably do!

ART (VISUAL/ILLUSTRATIVE)

Drawings/illustrations

Single-page and multi-page comics

Pixel art

Paintings (oil, acrylic, gouache, watercolor)

Mixed-media artwork on canvas

Ink-on-bristol art

Embroidery on canvas

Pour paint/spin art

Rotoscopes

Digital coloring books

AUDIOVISUAL WORKS

Fan music or filk inspired by characters, ships, or fics

Podfics

Videos (fic trailers, themed edits, vids set to songs)

Animations (making original art/animation or turning existing art into animation)

BETA SERVICES

Editing

Cheer reading

Soundboarding/planning/development work

Fact-checking

Culture-picking

Sensitivity reading

Knowledge about specific topics or experiences (e.g., identities, lifestyles, professions, interests, fields of study)

Research

CRAFTS & MERCH

Candles

Lip balms

Soaps

Stained glass/suncatcher

Scented beanbag-style sachets

Candy/chocolate/baked goods/jellies/sweets

Fic/character/ship/theme boxes (like book boxes)

Pins, magnets, patches, charms, standees, key chains, ring holders, calendars, stickers, bookmarks, temporary tattoos

Sculptures and clay figures

Ceramic mugs and other ceramic items

Apparel/wearable accessories (shirts, jackets, scarves, gloves/mittens, hats, face masks, regular masks, cowls, pajamas/onesies)

Backpacks, tote bags, itabags with custom window shapes, leather dice bags, wallets, pouches/pencil cases

Plushie animal or Tsum Tsum versions of Marvel characters

Dolls (crochet, needle felt, matte board, hand-sewn)

Embroidery hoops/wall art and cross stitch pieces

Jewelry (diamond painting, macrame, metal, crochet, wire, beads)

Woodwork/wood burning (cheese board, box/chest, USB stick, coasters, photo frame, alphabet blocks)

Glasswork

Custom Funko Pops

Paper cut light boxes

Pillow cases, quilted pillows, baby blankets, dishcloth/washcloths, potholders

Handmade leather journals

Linoleum stamps

Dog/cat/pet toys

Artbooks, paper doll books, and coloring books

Hand-dyed yarn skeins

Custom tea blends

DIGITAL (GRAPHIC DESIGN)

Gifsets

Graphics/edits

Mood boards

Photo manips

Fic covers/posters/banners

Icons and headers

Webweaving

Tumblr or website layouts

Digital calendars

Wallpapers

Custom Discord emojis

FAN LABOR & TRANSLATION

Typesetting

Bookbinding

Recipes based on characters, ships, or themes

Names, tags, and summaries for fics

Audio/sound editing and/or soundscaping for podfics

Book cover design and printing

Art/comic/fic translation

Website/game/AO3 skin coding

Fic rec lists

Fic playlists/fanmixes

Knitting/crochet patterns

Art coaching

Help with launching and organizing fan events

WRITING

Fic

Poetry

Meta posts

Social media AUs

Physical letters written by characters to the reader or between two characters

Remixes of your fic or an existing fic with the author's permission

Whether you can do something on this list or something else altogether (we're sure there are a lot of other things that you can do that we haven't thought about or seen before), we hope you'll consider signing up before the deadline: September 28, 11:59 PM ET.

[42delta9]

Invader zim crochet pattern

IMPORTANT INFO (PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU GO ON TO THE PATTERN):

THIS PATTERN IS WRITTEN IN U.S. TERMINOLOGY

PLEASE DO NOT SELL MY PATTERN ON ETSY, RAVELRY, OR ANY STORE OF THE LIKE, BUT YOU CAN REPOST IT AS LONG AS YOU LINK IT TO MY BLOG (millys-craft-corner) OR TIKTOK/YOUTUBE (fiestywyvern) FEEL FREE TO SELL ANY FINISHED PRODUCTS. Be sure to link me if you post your Zims as I’d love to see them.

Zim stands at about 5 inches tall or 12.7 cm, not including antennae

Techniques used

Sc

Inc

Dec

Triple dec

Triple inc

Magic ring

Chain

Basic embroidery and sew techniques

Not so well known techniques used

Triple inc- an increase with 3 stitches in one stitch instead of 2

Triple dec- a decrease going across 3 stitches instead of 2

Materials

3.5 mm crochet hook

size 3 or light worsted or light yarn weight in these colors light green, black, deep ruby red, light grey, and light pink

aluminum wire in size 14 or pipe cleaners

black embroidery thread

a medium sized sewing needle

tapestry needle

pliers if you’re using wire

hot glue

light pink felt

stuffing

Head and torso (make 1)- start with green

R1: 4sc in mr (4)

R2: triple inc around (12)

R3: 1 sc, (triple inc, 2sc)x3, triple inc, 1sc (20)

R4: 2sc, (triple inc, 4sc)x3, triple inc, 2sc (24)

R5: 3sc, (triple inc, 6sc)x3, triple inc, 3sc (36)

R6: 4sc, (triple inc, 8sc)x3, triple inc, 4sc (44)

R7: blo

R7-16: sc around (10 rounds) (44)

R17: blo- 4sc, (triple dec, 8 sc)x3, triple dec, 4sc (36)

R18: 3sc, (triple dec, 6sc)x3, triple dec, 3sc (28)

R19: 2sc, (triple dec, 4sc)x3, triple dec, 2sc (20)

R20: sc, (triple dec, 2sc)x3, triple dec, sc (12)

R21: dec around (charge to light pink at the end) (6)

R22: inc around (charge to red at the end) (12)

R23: sc around (12)

R24: inc, sc around (18)

R25-30: sc around (6 rounds) (18)

R31: blo- dec, sc around (12)

R32: dec around (6)

F/o, leave a long tail and 3 embroider stripes, using black yarn, so they cut the torso into thirds

Use the tail to close up piece

Shoulder pads (make 2)- light pink

R1: ch 5 and sc down from the 2nd chain from the hook, ch 1 and turn (4)

R2: 2 dec, ch 1 and turn (2)

R3: dec

F/o and leave a long tail for sewing

Arms (make 2)- start with black

R1: 3sc in mr (3)

R2: sc around (3)

R3: inc around (6)

R4: sc around (6)

R5: dec around (3)

R6: sc around (change to pink at the end) (3)

R7-10: sc around (4 rounds) (3)

F/o leave a long tail for sewing and embroider stripes using sewing needle and black thread

Legs (make 2)- black

R1: 4sc in mr (4)

R2: inc around (8)

R3-7: sc around (5 rounds) (8)

F/o and leave a long tail for sewing

Feet (make 2)- black

R1: 3sc in mr (3)

R2: sc, inc, sc (4)

R3: sc, inc, 2sc inc (6)

R4: 2sc, inc, 2sc, inc (8)

F/o leave a long tail for sewing

Pak (make 1)- light grey

R1: 4sc in mr (4)

R2: inc, sc (6)

R3: 2inc, sc, inc, 2sc (9)

R4: 2sc, 4inc, 2sc, slst (13)

R5-6: sc around (2 rounds) (13)

F/o leave a long tail for sewing

Big pak spot (make 1)- light pink

R1: 4sc in mr (4) Sl st into 1st stitch

f/o and leave a long tail for sewing

Small pak spot (make 2)- light pink

R1: 3sc in mr (3) sl st into 1st stitch

F/o and leave a long tail for sewing

Eyes (make 2)- red

R1: 6sc in mr (6)

R2: inc around (12)

R3: 4sc, 2inc, 4sc, 2inc (16)

R4-5: sc around (2 rounds) (16)

Antennae (make 2)- black

R1: 3 sc in mr (3)

R2-19: sc around (18 rounds) (3)

Assembly

Sew arms to shoulder pads

Sew bottom of feet to the sides of the legs so they create an “L” shape

Sew pak spots to the pak

Sew pak to body

Sew arms to body

Sew legs to body

Sew eyes to the lower left and lower right sides of the head

Cut out eyeshine out of light pink felt and hot glue it or sew it to the eyes

Cut 2 pieces of 5 inches of pipe cleaner/wire and fold in an inch on both sides so it’s 3 inches long. Insert them into each the antennae and sew antennae towards the back of the head. Fold back 1/4 of the antenna so it creates a right angle.

Congrats you just finished your irken invader, now go take over the earth!

[jovial-thunder]

Pre-alpha Lancer Tactics changelog

(cross-posting the full gif changelog here because folks seemed to like it last time I did)

We're aiming for getting the first public alpha for backers by the end of this month! Carpenter and I scoped out mechanics that can wait until after the alpha (e.g. grappling, hiding) in favor of tying up the hundred loose threads that are needed for something that approaches a playable game. So this is mostly a big ol changelog of an update from doing that.

But I also gave a talent talk at a local Portland Indie Game Squad event about engine architecture! It'll sound familiar if you've been reading these updates; I laid out the basic idea for this talk almost a year ago, back in the June 2023 update.

We've also signed contracts & had a kickoff meeting with our writers to start on the campaigns. While I've enjoyed like a year of engine-work, it'll be so so nice to start getting to tell stories. Data structures don't mean anything beyond how they affect humans & other life.

New Content

Implemented flying as a status; unit counts as +3 spaces above the current ground level and ignores terrain and elevation extra movement costs. Added hover + takeoff/land animations.

Gave deployables the ability to have 3D meshes instead of 2D sprites; we'll probably use this mostly when the deployable in question is climbable.

Related, I fixed a bug where after terrain destruction, all units recheck the ground height under them so they'll move down if the ground is shot out from under them. When the Jerichos do that, they say "oh heck, the ground is taller! I better move up to stand on it!" — not realizing that the taller ground they're seeing came from themselves.

Fixed by locking some units' rendering to the ground level; this means no stacking climbable things, which is a call I'm comfortable making. We ain't making minecraft here (I whisper to myself, gazing at the bottom of my tea mug). 

Block sizes are currently 1x1x0.5 — half as tall as they are wide. Since that was a size I pulled out of nowhere for convenience, we did some art tests for different block heights and camera angles. TLDR that size works great and we're leaving it.

Added Cone AOE pattern, courtesy of an algorithm NMcCoy sent me that guarantees the correct number of tiles are picked at the correct distance from the origin.

pick your aim angle

for each distance step N of your cone, make a list ("ring") of all the cells at that distance from your origin

sort those cells by angular distance from your aim angle, and include the N closest cells in that ring in the cone's area

Here's a gif they made of it in Bitsy:

Units face where you're planning on moving/targeting them.

Got Walking Armory's Shock option working. Added subtle (too subtle, now that I look at it) electricity effect.

Other things we've added but I don't have gifs for or failed to upload. You'll have to trust me. :)

disengage action

overcharge action

Improved Armament core bonus

basic mine explosion fx

explosion fx on character dying

Increase map elevation cap to 10. It's nice but definitely is risky with increasing the voxel space, gonna have to keep an eye on performance.

Added Structured + Stress event and the associated popups. Also added meltdown status (and hidden countdown), but there's not animation for this yet so your guy just abruptly disappears and leaves huge crater.

UI Improvements

Rearranged the portrait maker. Auto-expand the color picker so you don't have to keep clicking into a submenu.

Added topdown camera mode by pressing R for handling getting mechs out of tight spaces.

The action tooltips have been bothering me for a while; they extend up and cover prime play-area real estate in the center of the screen. So I redesigned them to be shorter and have a max height by putting long descriptions in a scrollable box. This sounds simple, but the redesign, pulling in all the correct data for the tags, and wiring up the tooltips took like seven hours. Game dev is hard, yo.

Put the unit inspect popups in lockable tooltips + added a bunch of tooltips to them.

Implemented the rest of Carpenter's cool hex-y action and end turn readout. I'm a big fan of whenever we can make the game look more like a game and less like a website (though he balances out my impulse for that for the sake of legibility).

Added a JANKY talent/frame picker. I swear we have designs for a better one, but sometimes you gotta just get it working. Also seen briefly here are basic level up/down and HASE buttons.

Other no-picture things:

Negated the map-scaling effect that happens when the window resizes to prevent bad pixel scaling of mechs at different resolutions; making the window bigger now just lets you see more play area instead of making things bigger.

WIP Objectives Bullets panel to give the current sitrep info

Wired up a buncha tooltips throughout the character sheet.

Under the Hood

Serialization: can save/load games! This is the payoff for sticking with that engine architecture I've been going on about. I had to add a serialization function to everything in the center layer which took a while, but it was fairly straightforward work with few curveballs.

Finished replacement of the kit/unit/reinforcement group/sitrep pickers with a new standardized system that can pull from stock data and user-saved data.

Updated to Godot 4.2.2; the game (and editor) has been crashing on exit for a LONG time and for the life of me I couldn't track down why, but this minor update in Godot completely fixed the bug. I still have no idea what was happening, but it's so cool to be working in an engine that's this active bugfixing-wise! 

Other Bugfixes

Pulled straight from the internal changelog, no edits for public parseability:

calculate cover for fliers correctly

no overwatch when outside of vertical threat

fixed skirmisher triggering for each attack in an AOE

fixed jumpjets boost-available detection

fixed mines not triggering when you step right on top of them // at a different elevation but still adjacent

weapon mods not a valid target for destruction

made camera pan less jumpy and adjust to the terrain height

better Buff name/desc localization

Fixed compcon planner letting you both boost and attack with one quick action.

Fix displayed movement points not updating

Prevent wrecks from going prone

fix berserkers not moving if they were exactly one tile away

hex mine uses deployer's save target instead of 0

restrict weapon mod selection if you don't have the SP to pay

fix deployable previews not going away

fix impaired not showing up in the unit inspector (its status code is 0 so there was a check that was like "looks like there's no status here")

fix skirmisher letting you move to a tile that should cost two movement if it's only one space away

fix hit percent calculation

fix rangefinder grid shader corner issues (this was like a full day to rewrite the shader to be better)

Teleporting costs the max(spaces traveled, elevation change) instead of always 1

So um, yeah, that's my talk, any questions? (I had a professor once tell us to never end a talk like this, so now of course it's the phrase that first comes to mind whenever I end a talk)

[jackactuallywrites]

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x You

Rating: Nothing explicit, no sex or egregious violence

Warnings: Gun violence? And he does steal her phone

Summary: You go chasing cats and find a lot more than you bargained for

Notes: It’s been sat in my drafts for ages and the first part is a little slow so bear with x

Word Count: 1,893

ao3 link

Yet again, it was there.

A little cat, dark grey, striped with lighter grey, with a white belly and paws, sniffing around the large green bins in the dingy alleyway. The white of its fur was stained with various unpleasant shades of brown, the cause for which you didn't want to think about. It had clearly found something of interest to it underneath the large dumpster, crouching down on its elbows, stretching out one of its front paws to try and grab whatever lay there, unbothered by the wet grime on the ground staining its fur. With your human eyes, you weren't privileged enough to see what tasty treat lay just out of reach, but you were able to see the thick ring of plastic that was wrapped around the creature's neck, no doubt digging into the skin, tighter and tighter as the smaller kitten grew from a desperate mewling creature into a lean, wary cat. As of yet, it hadn't seen you, still focused on its mission, but the second you took a single step forward, a tiny pebble grated underneath your shoe, and the stray's head snapped up, its distrusting yellow eyes slicing over to you.

"Kitty-" You ventured, trying to keep your voice as gentle as possible, soft and sweet, but the kitten took off, sprinting down the alleyway, the plastic from the six-pack ring sticking out above it as it ran. You briefly glanced back to the road that led you back home, already idly entertaining giving up on your quest. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, as it did on your walks home from work, giving you at least two more hours of sunlight. And yet, it wasn't like you had anything all that important to get to at home; besides, it was a fairly pleasant evening, still warm and sunny despite the clouds, and you didn't keep cat treats in your pocket for no reason, so you took after the little cat, doing your best to keep a distance enough not to spur it into sprinting away. It was only vaguely suspicious of you, looking back over its shoulder at you every so often to see if you were still following, its sprint having slowed into a trot, its tail low, yet not poofed up, uneasy, but not afraid.

It was taking you on an incredibly complicated path through the city, zigging and zagging through innumerable side streets and alleys, making you increasingly thankful that you'd chosen to wear your trainers rather than the slip-on shoes which would have given you a throbbing blister after so much running. Slowly but surely, the cat was taking you further out from the populated areas into the industrial zone where every other building you walked past had been abandoned. You assumed that it had someplace out here, safe away from anyone who would wish it harm, sheltered from wind and rain, and undoubtedly near a decent supply of mice and rats. It was doing a good job at trying to throw you off, and you almost lost it a few times, but eventually, it led you to a dead end, a skinny alleyway ending in a tall chain-link fence topped with razor-sharp barbed wire. At least, you thought it was a dead end, yet down in the corner, you could see the way the links were slightly uneven, breaking the pattern. In a closer look, you could see where the fence had been cut, the fence curling away from itself, and it was through this small gap that the cat escaped yet again.

You were beginning to believe that you were wasting your evening; clearly, this cat was far too wily to allow itself to be caught by any bumbling human, but it was watching you from the other side of the fence as though it was waiting for you to catch up, as though all this running had been a great game to it. You could give it one more try, at the very least. The break in the fence was plenty large enough for you to slip through, even standing straight up, the sharp metal tugging on the fabric of your jumper and sliding harmlessly over the thick denim of your jeans. The cat was waiting a little ways away from you, sitting at the edge of a building up ahead, two buildings down from you, watching you with its large, suspicious eyes before taking a leisurely walk around the building, its tail now held straight out, flicking slightly. It was intrigued by you. You moved quickly, half crouched as you walked over to where the cat had disappeared, glancing down the gaps between buildings as you did so.

There was a large security camera pointing directly at you, staring down at your face as you peered around the corner of the building. You froze in your place, terrified that at any moment, the police would be called. The cat was sitting almost directly underneath it, watching you leisurely, entirely unaware of your human problems. It was so close to you, and you glanced between it and the camera, trying to weigh up the danger you were in. The light on top of the camera was dark, where it could have been blinking red, and you decided that it must mean it was off. After all, these buildings were abandoned, and as long as you weren't doing anything too illegal, you doubted that the red and blues would come running. You crouched down, holding out your hand to the cat, gently rubbing your fingers together to beckon it, making soft kissy sounds at it, keeping your voice quiet, "Kitty! Come here, kitty!" It didn't move towards you, nor did it move away, flicking its tail as it watched you. You closed your eyes slowly at it, trying to demonstrate your pure intentions, and after a minute, the cat returned the gesture, a great step in the right direction.

You remained still, unwilling to take a single further step toward it lest you spook it. It remained still, watching you blink at it, apparently having every second in the world to play around, enjoying making you work for its friendship. Then, it shot to its feet and sprinted away, leaving you puzzled. You hadn't made a single further move toward it. It only took a second for you to realise what exactly had spooked it, but by then, it was too late. The hand was already on your shoulder, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall, the hard edge of a gun pressed into the centre of your chest. Your attention was fully dragged away from the cat, flicking over to the person holding you at gunpoint. They were taller than you, not that they needed the advantage of height when they had a gun to your chest, dressed in black tactical gear and wearing a black balaclava with a white skull painted on it, with only their eyes revealed. A warm green colour, but they were cold, like chips from a mossy glacier. That iciness was reflected in the voice, his voice, whisper quiet. "Don't. Move."

You weren't sure you'd ever even seen a gun in person, yet now you had the barrel of one pressed up against you, and you felt as though every drop of blood in your body had gone cold. "I'm just looking for a cat." Your voice was a soft plead, not a tone you'd ever heard from your own mouth before, your body acting entirely on instinct. The man frowned at you, using only his gun to hold you in place as his other hand reached out to pat you down. He was a soldier; that much was clear from his uniform and the casual indifference with which he seemed to regard the concept of killing you. His hand roamed down over your arms, roughly grasping at them underneath your jumper, then went down your sides. You allowed it, knowing that it was necessary in order for you to escape with your life, knowing that he would find nothing. He paused at the bulge in your front jean pocket, his pale eyes flicking up to you questioningly, and you answered, "Cat treats." Still, he didn't trust you, digging them out of your pocket to confirm your answer, his eyes flicking over the bright colours of the packet before tossing them aside. You didn't dare even breathe as he patted down your jeans, identifying your phone in the other front pocket. He pulled out your phone, his eyes flicking down to the screen and then back up to you, showing you the lock screen.

"Unlock it."

Even with the gun to your chest, you still hesitated about unlocking your phone for a stranger, your mouth opening to argue with him before your brain caught up with you, not allowing a single word of dissent past your lips. He pressed the gun harder against your chest, the metal digging into your chest through the thin material of your jumper, his eyes hard, and you gave up, reaching up with your fingers to tap in your passcode. He looked down at your phone, swiping through to see your apps and then flicking through your recent photos, only finding endless pictures of you and your cats, as well as the various street cats you encountered on your walk to work. His gaze snapped up to your face once more, flicking across your features as though he was beginning to understand something about you.

Finally, he let up.

"How did you get in?" His voice was slightly less harsh this time. There was still the hard military edge, but now he had more of a questioning tone, as though he was beginning to believe your innocence. "There's a gap in the fence. The cat went through it. I followed." He frowned, his brows furrowing underneath the slightly smudged black paint, and he lifted the barrel of the gun off your chest, taking a step back from you, pocketing your phone as he did so. "Show me." There was no polite question in his voice, only demand, and you knew you had no choice but to obey. With the gun still pointed directly at your heart, it wasn't like you were in any position to refuse. At least now, the barrel wasn't pushed up against you, and you relished every inch of freedom given.

With one last look for that mildly traitorous cat, you led the soldier over to the small gap in the fence you had come through, acutely aware of the weapon still aimed directly at you, gesturing towards the broken chain links with your hand. "It came through here." You felt the tap of the gun between your shoulders, and another command was uttered to you, "Go on then." You glanced over your shoulder at the man, "My phone?" “Go.” You hesitated, but it quickly became apparent that either you left without your phone or you didn’t leave at all. It wasn’t a decision you were happy to make, but it wasn’t as though you had much choice in the matter, so you left it in the hands of the soldier, not giving him a second look as you left, hoping to leave it all behind as an unhappy memory.

[the-hanged-mans-ghost]

Consider this as your annual reminder to 10000% join your local SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism) if you're into the middle ages (Anywhere in the world, you don't *just* have to do vikings/norse/europe, it's just pretty common to lmao), crafting, sword fighting(or any other type of fighting, they've got lots!), sewing, cooking, art, dressing up in cool period accurate(or even just semi accurate, I've heard a lot of places aren't *SUPER* picky as long as you make an effort to dress appropriate for the period)!!!

My sister and I joined our local chapter about 6 months ago and it's amazing so far! We jsut went to our first actual event (a 6 hour drive away bc we live in the middle of nowhere) outside of monthly meetings and it was so friggin fun!

We learned how to make (Finnish/Lithuanian/Latvian/Estonian) spiral ornaments for clothing or decoration(the square looking thing below), learned how to make a silver ring from some fine silver wire, learned how to make a 12 strand braid with wrapped ends, and made a few friends while we were there! I've also learned how to use a lucet fork (honestly kinda like a loomband bracelet but with string lmao), a tablet weaving loom, and I'll be learning how to weave wire to make necklaces, how to brew mead, and a few traditional recipes from the other members, too!

So if any of that sounds fun or interesting, consider joining! Our group meets once a month on the third Thursday, but your local group might be different, I linked the website for the sca down below this, so definitely contact them and jump down this rabbit hole, I promise it's worth it!

This metal square thing is a spiral ornament! It's sewn onto clothes, aprons, bags, anything you'd like!

This is my first by-myself tablet weaving! It's a pattern found in the oseberg viking mounds(not sure if 'hat's 'mounds' is the right word but I've seen it used so oop-), creative liberties taken with the yellow border and the colors obv.

https://www.sca.org/about/kingdoms/

SCA's main website(which can be a little confusing to navigate at first), and the link to find your kingdom(so you can find your group easier, but def check out the other parts of the website too, it's got great info!)! You should be able to find your kingdom and local group by clicking the area that your state/area fall under! I know it says there's a fee, but I don't think it's mandatory right away (it wasn't for our group), and if you have troubles paying it, talk to the group and explain your situation, thy might have funds to pay for you instead! (our group has mentioned several times that they have the funds to pay for our memberships of we decide this is something we'd like to do long term!)

[genderfluid-strawberry-of-doom]

i reread hammer of thor and i decided to list out some stuff i feel has been overlooked by the fandom

and stuff that hasn't been overlooked (at all) but i HAVE to mention it anyway. because reasons

also it's not THAT long of a post but it's pretty long so i put a cut there

nobody ever mentions the 'thinking cup' like whyyy

alex fierro the cheetah and weasel :)

"the gender thing wasn't what surprised me. what surprised me was the way my impression of alex had slingshot and the emotions that had stirred up"

magnus mentioning that he had been stuck in one gender his whole life and that it didn't bother him except the way it was worded made it seem like he was unsure about it jsfjfisfidgkgd

i don't think it's overlooked but the scene in which magnus is watching alex eat and halfborn goes "there's no shame in being attracted magnus" and he CHOKES

(not overlooked at all but) HEARTH'S POSESSIVENESS OVER BLITZ <333

(DEFINITELY not overlooked but) "buddy" *proceeds to take hearth's hands in his own*, "what is wrong with my elf" 😭😭

inge being fucking abused by alderman?? she was beaten??? and the iron on the door locks is harmful and extremely painful to hulder??? THAT ASSHOLE ALDERMAN

(in context to inge explaining that alderman kept a patch of wilderness in his backyard bc hulder need wilderness to live and so that he can 'hire' more help) "she said hire. i heard catch" BITCH-

the fucking wergild. i have a lot of thoughts about that and all of them involve alderman dying

also hearth's mom doesn't really seem like much of a good person either? she didn't stop alderman from being abusive towards hearth or the house staff AND she literally just cared about her reputation. maybe she wasn't as bad as her husband but she was still pretty bad (parallels there between hearth and alex)

also parallels between hearth trying to stop alderman from taking andvari's ring and trying to "pull his dad out from a hole deeper than andvari's" and magnus trying to save randolph from falling into the hole in the ground that led to helheim-

hearth and samirah's dynamic?? they've already had a fight and patched up AND were stuck together during the utgard lanes chapters. soooo a lot

also hearth and alex's brief interactions lol

"just, you know, a little respect" "for the girl with the sharp wire? no problem" "there was nothing confusing abt the smile she gave me. it warmed up the office by about five degrees" I LOVE THEM A TOTALLY NORMAL AMOUNT

amir fadlan. AMIR FADLAN EVERYBODY <333

samirah being a girlboss. samirah handling all the stress. samirah trying to show her true self to amir. samirah braving everything put in her way with courage. just samirah <3 <3 (everybody in the whole universe should be in awe of her btw)

the scene in which they're sitting on stanley (the eight-legged horse) and magnus is nervous to hold on to alex but she just takes his hands and puts them around her waist <3

for some reason i had assumed alex had cut magnus's hair for the first time in the woods but no. it was blitz? hm

magnus's casual mention about utgard loki being attractive ajsfjfsi

taylor swift being dwarf music and prince being giant music?? (and that giant named tiny being obsessed with elvis)

an alex speech pattern which isn't much of a pattern but it repeated twice in the book: once she said (in response to hearth signing something she didn't understand. this was around the time when she and samirah revealed that alex would be taking samirah's place) "yes alex. thank you alex for being so brave and heroic." and then the other time (in the end when magnus is visiting her in her room and picks up one of her pottery projects) "no you can't touch it magnus. thanks for asking magnus" idk i just think it's cool

the trophy wife thing. sif deserves better tbh

"a girl who was rocking that wedding dress"

alex straightening magnus's tie or smth and magnus's inner monologue going "she still smells like wood smoke. why does she still smell like a campfire?"

samirah's wedding outfit?? (sounds gorgeous tbh. except for the hood which) also i have a related question. is the hood in place of hijab thing disrespectful? /gen

sif and alex dynamic <3

sif's gifts to hearth (pouch of rowan runes) and alex (golden garrote)

alex and most other shapeshifters make random animal noises and shapeshift to random animals when they're nervous

halfborn's "death and glory," mallory's "kill everyone," and tj's "charge" aksfkfiovdm. and the way magnus just becomes so much stronger when he sees his friends-

the scene at the end of the marriage battle thing when alex is all concerned because she thinks magnus doesn't believe that she was just pretending to be under loki's control and sHE'S TRYING TO CONVINCE HIM AND HE SQUEEZES HER HAND JDFJSFKFK THIS SCENE IS NOT TALKED ABOUT ENOUGH

alex canonically calling magnus "sunshiny" and RESPECTING AND ADMIRING HIM AND HIS HEALING POWERS. they make me weak

samirah and magnus's dynamic is not given enough love. they are figuratively SIBLINGS and that level of closeness is not recognized by the fandom enough

(also not really about the book but. the UK cover of 'hammer of thor' depicts samirah with half of her hair falling out of her hijab. which. who tf designed these covers?? like somebody needs to give them a good throttling)

there's probably more that i don't remember but okay here have this for now :)