#velcro wallet

[charliecraftsthings]

My favourite wallet is no longer produced (as far as I can tell), so I decided to copy its pattern and teach myself to sew it. Bonus, I get to use 🖤💜aesthetic🖤💜 colours.

The original is a rugged trifold wallet with velcro closure. The fabric appears to be high-denier nylon or polyester canvas, with a waterproof PU backing.

For my copy, I used a black 400 denier nylon pack cloth with waterproof PU backing; and a puple 400 denier water-resistant polyester canvas with a neat twill weave. I bound the wallet edges in black 3/4" (10mm) wide twill tape, and used a scrap of purple 1" (25mm) wide nylon webbing for the coin pouch pull tab. For thread, I used Glide Trilobal Polyester in "Iris".

I chose Snag-Free Velcro, which has both hooks and loops in the same tape. The loops tend to be just a smidge taller than the hooks, which means you need to press the two tapes together to get good adherence (hence reducing unwanted adherence!). This might end up being a poor choice for a wallet, as I don't typically press my wallet closed with much force, and just folding it together isn't always enough to make the Velcro stick.

On the exterior, there's a little coin pouch with velcro closure

Brand new, there's a clear vinyl ID window on the centre panel of the original wallet's exterior, but this window always breaks in my experience, so I omitted it on mine.

Inside, there are three areas for holding cards, and a bill slot behind the card slot panel.

The left and centre -thirds have two side-loading card holders each; one front and back. In the front slot, the cards are partly visible; in the back, cards are hidden. The right panel also has two card holders, these are vertical-loading; in the back slot, cards are hidden by the cards in front.

I usually keep my tappable bus card in the centre of the bill slot (the area closest to the exterior of the closed wallet), so that I can tap the entire wallet to pay my bus fare. I added an elastic to help keep the bus card in its place, but I'm not entirely sold on this feature yet.

To protect my tappable payment cards, I would usually keep them in an RFID blocking envelope in a vertical card slot panel. But since I'm sewing my own entire wallet, I decided to line the whole card slot panel with RFID blocking fabric.

I also added a little flap to keep my receipts separate from my bills.

This being my first attempt at copying the wallet, I learned a lot in the process!

When this wallet wears out, I'll sew myself another; but with some changes, for sure.

Oh! Also!

The RFID-blocking fabric passed two basic tests:

wrap my phone the fabric (try to keep the wrapping only 1 layer thick); the phone has no reception (tested by sending myself emails; having someone call me; attempting NFC tap) ✅

with a tap-enabled payment card inside, tap the closed wallet at a tap-enabled point-of-sale till during payment; payment does not work ✅

Unfortunately, the wallet also blocks my bus pass. But I'd rather it block too much than too little; I can figure out a different solution for the bus pass.

I'm quite pleased with how this turned out, and am looking forward to making one for my partner!

[t-u-i-t-c]

Sakito's Wallet

[buffetcity]

[lordsrot]

The mammoth of a beast watched @moonsworn's movements attentively. Burning orbs tracking their every step. Careful they were. Lei had referred to the Lord as 'very tall' at one time. Made idle jabs here and there where they could be. He wonders what manner of comments they would spew with the honors of seeing him in his second skin. Something that would surely even make the beats eyes roll, he wagers. Lei had a knack for speaking very freely.

Then there was another matter; inevitable curiosity. Those patches of gold, once the size of a coin, were now larger than their hand. And he was covered in them. Agravaine could see that glint in their eyes now. Readying to soften him up with formalities and such to ask him once more. Large nostrils flared with a heavy huff. A low rumble sounding from his depths. As if he was already telling the other no.

[noonstate]

peter parker and jessica drew in 1610 are both transgender i will not explain they just are

[tsmerch]

i’m so confused…what are the inserts?? like what’s the point of them 😭

Haha I know. I’m not totally sure but i think you put them in the empty slots where you don’t have cards? I feel like we used to put them in the clear spot for a license when I was a kid/before I had a license.

[psychopomping]

nothing is ever out of style you just have to wait long enough for it to come back to trend

[cyanidepies]

that omnibus is heavy as hell

feels like im carrying a baby

hello across the spider-verse fan. I want to play a game. you are a person who considers themselves a fan of the character miguel o'hara, but all you do is fetishize him for being a brown man and mischaracterize him until he's nothing more than a sadistic daddy dom trope. in front of you is volume one of spider-man 2099. you must read the entire run and write a coherent, informative essay on your understanding of miguel's character and motivations. if you fail to complete your task, I will enter your room and beat you to death with the spider-man 2099 (1992) omnibus. your time starts now

[bohemianblasphemy]

soft things i think that billy butcher would do because i said so ✨✨ (mildly nsfw)

- he is a cuddler. i’m sorry i don’t make the rules but can you imagine being in those strong arms??? after making love, he pulls you on top of his chest. stroking your hair, tracing patterns on your skin with his large hands, just holding you close and listening to your breathing slow after coming down from you high.

- when y’all are spooning, he will pull you closer to him, its a massive comfort for him when you are pretty much glued to his chest knowing that you’re not going anywhere.

- likes watching you doing literally anything. you’re cooking? doing your morning routine? playing with terror? he is always watching, admiring every detail about you, softly smiling about how his love looks flawless doing absolutely anything.

- has a photo of you in his wallet. when he’s on a mission he will spend a lot of time looking at that photo, thinking of good times with you.

- he is always touching you- absolutely stuck to you like velcro. if you’re making coffee/tea he will come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and place his head on your shoulder. walking down the street he is glued to you just to keep you safe and near him.

i love him

[rileyslibrary]

Penny for your thoughts

Synopsis: You’ve recently been transferred to a UK base and struggle with British currency. Your lieutenant is mortified—and rightfully so.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,286 (approx. 5-6 mins reading time)

Notes:

I thought it was funny when I wrote it, okay? It’s a crackfic. There’s some teasing and playful banter in there, but I can’t label it as fluff.

Warnings: Profanity. Lots of it.

More A/N at the end.

———————————————————————

You’ve been trying to escape the lieutenant’s grip for the past two hours.

The upcoming mission requires close combat skills, he said. You’ll need to infiltrate a facility with minimum weapons and immobilise—but not kill—the targets for interrogation.

You admitted to him that you hadn’t practised in a long time and your combat skills were a little rusty. But Ghost assured you this wouldn’t be a problem and offered a refresher course in ground fighting and submission techniques.

You never imagined this would be an issue when you agreed to it. On the contrary, your lieutenant was an expert in combat, and training with him could be considered a masterclass.

Looking at it now, with your cheek pressed against the floor and your body twisted like a nautical knot, you wish you could take it back.

The mats have become your second skin. Ghost relentlessly pins you to the ground and immobilises your limbs while explaining the mechanics behind each hold. Sometimes you wonder why he gets into so much detail since you can’t hear shit and are practically knocked out.

Yet, he doesn’t give up on you. He advises you to feel the weight shift, urging you to exploit the slightest openings, encouraging you to break free. Whenever he sees you’re struggling or senses you’re uncertain, he taps your hand or leg, giving you clues to help you.

He immobilises you once more, but he pats your back this time.

“Alright,” he says, standing up, “that’s enough for today.”

He walks to the bench, picks up his towel, and pats his neck. You roll on your back and spread your arms.

“I feel like a pretzel.” You whisper.

“Yup,” he confirms, “that’s Jiu-Jitsu for ya.”

Drenched in sweat, you push yourself off the ground and slowly walk to your bag. You extract your towel and begin rummaging through your wallet to find spare coins for a water bottle. You manage to find one pound, but unfortunately, you fall short.

“Lt.?” You call out.

He turns halfway to give you his attention while tugging the velcro straps from his gloves.

“Do you have fifty pennises?”

He stops midway and lets go of the velcro strap. It can wait. His eyes have formed two thin lines, and his eyebrows almost touch each other.

“Do I have fifty what, soldier?”

“I need fifty pennises.” You reply, this time louder, “Do you have fifty pennises?”

His eyes have changed. They’re not squinting anymore. They are bulging. He frantically looks left and right, bringing his index finger to his mouth.

“Shhhh!” He whispers and runs towards you, waving his other hand in front of your face. “Shut your mouth!”

He closes the distance between you and looks behind him.

“What is wrong with you?” He whispers.

You raise your eyebrows and blink rapidly.

“No,” you reply, “what is wrong with you?”

He lets out a sigh and looks at his surroundings once again. He scratches the side of his chin and clasps his hands in prayer.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” he requests more calmly this time, almost begging you, “Make a sentence out of it.”

“I’m thirsty.” You explain.

“Obviously.”

He’s starting to get on your nerves. You open your palm and raise it to his eye level.

“Look,” you order and point at the coin, “I have one pound.”

“I can see that.” He replies and puts his hand on yours, pushing it down so he can look at you.

“The vending machine needs one pound and a half.”

“Say it.” He commands and swallows hard, “The vending machine needs one pound and fifty...”

You clench your jaw and look at him dead in the eyes.

“Pennises.”

He lets out a snort and clasps his hand at the bridge of his nose. He turns his back to you and takes a few steps away. His shoulders move up and down.

“Ah, soldier,” he replies, still looking the other way. “that’s a lot of pennises.”

You run a hand through your hair and sigh.

“I know my pronunciation is probably wrong,” you state and shut your eyes, “but I need them.”

“Don’t say that,” he says between gasps, “you don’t need that many.”

With your eyes still closed, you start babbling about how wrong he is and how you wish you had a million of them so you could escape this hellhole and retire on an island. He squats to the ground and covers his masked face with his hands.

He sounds like he’s whimpering. You might have assumed he was sobbing if you hadn’t known the cause of his stance. But you knew why he was half crying, half laughing. It sounded hideous. It was hideous. You just can’t remember the word.

What’s it called, what’s it called...

You open your eyes. Ghost is walking towards you, wiping away tears from his eyes. He retrieves a fist of coins from his pocket and, muttering something under his breath, chooses two. He pinches a silver hexagonal-shaped coin with his fingers and shows it to you.

“This,” he says, “is fifty pence, or 50p.”

“Pence or p.” You repeat.

“That’s right.” He confirms and pinches a smaller coin with his other hand. “Now, this little one is a penny. Fifty of these are called fifty pennies.”

“Pennies,” you echo and slap your thighs, “See? Was it that hard to explain?”

“Oh yes,” he replies and nods slowly, “yes, it was that fucking hard.”

You lift your palm. “Can I have the big one?” You ask.

“Say it first.” He commands you.

You roll your eyes. “Can I have the 50p, Lt.?”

“Of course, you may have the 50p.” He says and places the coin in your hand, “What you absolutely may not have is fifty….” He stops and lets a repressed chuckle out.

You press your lips together and bite your cheek to not respond to his teasing. But you can’t.

“…pennises, I presume?” You sneer.

“Yeah, no.” He says and vigorously shakes his head, “You don’t want that.”

You wince and rub the back of your neck. Ghost tries to comfort you, telling you it’s ok and you shouldn’t feel bad, but he doesn’t believe it himself. He’s smiling beneath that mask; you can tell by how the grimace alters his voice. You thank him for the coin and walk to the vending machine.

“Soldier,” he calls out, “how many times have you said that word since you came to the UK?”

You tilt your head and try to recall.

“I can’t remember.” You conclude.

“You can’t remember if you ever said it, or there were so many occasions that you can’t count them?” He asks with a trembling voice.

“No, Lt.,” you reply, defeated, “I don’t remember asking another person for that.”

He looks relieved. He lets out a long exhale and rubs his masked face with his palms.

“I never thought I’d ever say this,” he says, “but I’m glad I was the first one.”

———————————————————————

A/N: I wrote this in March, along with this story (yes, they’re very similar). Although I liked the idea and thought it was funny, I initially discarded it because it felt stupid, and chose to post the other one (not like the other one is pure genius). It remains as such, but as I said, it’s a crackfic. I’m not researching how to improve human welfare.

[artslovergirl]

Stanford!art as a secret admirer pleaaaaase

hiii! sorry this took me literally a month to finish i am still not very good at keeping a drabble a drabble and this one really got away from me but i promise in the future that hopefully wont be the case....anywhoo! enjoy! (ty for being my first request ever!) also shoutout to diya for helping me a bit with characterizing art having a crush on someone! mwah!

admittedly, art felt like a creep. not enough to stop sneaking glances at you across the lecture hall but definitely enough to feel hot shame crawl up his neck whenever you would accidentally meet his eye contact.

he quickly glanced away and stared back at the blackboard, trying to pretend that's what he had been looking at all along.

he began fiddling with his pen, pushing the plastic end of it nervously against his lips. he could feel your eyes on him for a few moments longer before turning back around to face the professor.

great. now you probably actually thought he was a creep. which is not exactly how he planned your first form of contact to go.

...alright, to be fair, he never had an exact plan in the first place? but "make awkward eye contact" wouldn't have been a part of it. that's for sure.

he was a little out of his element here. stanford was a hell of a lot bigger than mark rebellato was.

back there, most of the girls knew him, sometimes even liked him already or he had patrick as his wingman. (or when it came to tashi, competition.) but here? he felt so unsure all of a sudden. it felt like all of the experience he had with dating seemed completely useless.

when he first saw you, he was still pretty infatuated with tashi. but that doesnt mean he didnt notice how hot you were. as more time passed the more he realized that tashi and patrick were apprently locked in (go figure the dude finally learns commitment just in time. read bitterness.) and the more he saw you, the more he heard you talk in class, the more he saw you laugh with your friends, the more you wouldnt leave his mind. not to mention how fucking smart you were. well, are.

the lecture ended and as always you were one of the first people out the door. you were always in a rush. or maybe you just had another class all the way on the other side of campus?

he wondered what your major was. he wondered if you knew he played tennis. he wondered if it would even impress you if you found out. he hoped it would.

---

art was sitting in the cafeteria stabbing his fork into his salad that consisted of like 70% veggies and 30% eggs.

he had to say, he was definitely getting sick of eggs at this point. he took a small sip of his gatorade.

usually, he drank blue, but he decided to try red today. maybe because it was patrick's favorite flavor or maybe because he needed at least a little change in routine.

unfortunately, as he went to place the bottle back down on the table, he almost knocked it over as soon as he suddenly noticed you standing by the vending machine. and then turning around. and.. walking towards him? holy shit.

at first, he thought you would just walk past him, but you stopped at his table. he didn't know if he believed in god, but at that moment, he certainly felt like a favorite.

"hey," you smiled politely, "sorry to bother you, but do you happen to have a quarter? that thing doesn't seem to take nickles." you nodded your head towards the vending machine at the entrance of the cafeteria.

"uh." his brain tried to play catch up. "um, yeah, let me check." he let out a small chuckle so he wouldn't sound so nervous, but it sounded more like he was wheezing. he pulled out his wallet, ripped apart the velcro, and checked. he silently celebrated when he noticed he did, in fact, have a few quarters. "yeah, how many do you need?" he looked up at you. his cheeks felt hot.

"oh, just one is fine." he nods, and suddenly, in front of your presence, it seems a lot harder to properly grab the quarter from his wallet. he does manage, though, and as he hands it to you, he feels your fingers brush against his palm.

as if transferred from your fingertips to his palm it felt like a surge went through his body, traveling through his arteries and sparking at the tips of his fingers and toes. you hand him your nickels in exchange. before you could turn to leave, he quickly interjected, "we're in the same class, right? english literature?"

he didnt know where he was going with this, he just wanted to keep talking to you.

your eyes flashed with recognition.

"oh, yeah! art, right? you sit behind me?" you knew his name. "yeah, yeah, that's right." he nodded, his fingers drummed against the table. there was a short lull in the conversation as he desperately tried to grasp for anything to talk about that wouldn't seem like he was hitting on you (even though he kind of was.)

"so, uh, this is actually good timing because i've been sorta meaning to talk to you anyway?" his lips pulled into a familiar charming lopsided smile.

"oh, really?" you tilted your head. "yeah." he nodded, his hand going to fidget with curls on the back of his neck that stuck out of his backwards cap.

"i, uh, need some help with some of the material, and, you know, you're so good-"

"oh, i'm not that-"

"nah, c'mon no need to be modest," there's that grin again, "i don't think i've ever seen you get a question wrong."

you huff, feeling embarrassed at the unexpected praise, "well, it's literature, so it's all interpretation, it's hard to be outright wrong."

"see, that answer just confirms it." he says.

you chuckle, finally giving in and accepting the compliment. "so..you want my help then?" he nods. he really prayed you would say yes because this was really his only plan on how to get to know you.

you mulled over it for a few seconds. then you nodded. "yeah, okay, let me give you my number and we can figure out the details later. i got another class in like-" you glanced back at the clock, "shit, 3 minutes."

you hastily ripped a piece of paper out of your notebook scribbled a number on it and left it on the table. "oh, and thanks for the quarter!" you yelled back (even though you didn't even get to use it) before booking it out of the cafeteria. guess he was right about you always being in a rush.

---

4:58 pm. 2 more minutes till you'd knock at his door. art did another once over of his room. now he wasn't exactly a messy guy but he had to admit his dorm had never been this clean before. actually maybe it was too clean...would you think that was weird? like would you think he was a neatfreak? girls probably weren't into that.

he began messing up his bedsheets just a little so it wouldnt look like he had just spent the past three hours obsessively cleaning every inch of his dorm. even though thats exactly what he did.

it was a pretty small room but you'd be surprised how long it can take to clean if you're doing a real deep clean. not to mention the pain in the ass that doing laundry in college was.

he did all of this because, keeping true to your word, you did make plans with him to help him out with some of the reading.

you : does 5pm on saturday work 4 u?? :-)

art : Yeah, I'm totally free!!

(in hindsight the two exclamation points were probably a bit much.)

just as he was about to check out his hair for the 5th time today, there was a knock on the door. he glanced at the little digital watch on his wrist. 5pm sharp. wow, you were punctual. was it weird that he found that hot?

art quickly brushes a few unruly curls that were sticking out of his backwards cap away with his fingers before moving to open the door.

---

"so, what's the exact stuff you're having trouble with?" you peered at him from his bed, which you were sitting on, which he was being very cool about.

you had asked him if it was okay to sit there after you had exchanged a few pleasantries and then chatted for about 10 minutes.

it was mostly about class at first, then turned into more personal topics. you asked him if he was on the tennis team, because of all the..well..tennis gear in his room.

he nodded and told you about his tennis scholarship. you chuckled and said you had never really watched any matches at stanford so far, but you'd like to see him play.

he really tried to not seem overly enthusiastic about that but he did tell you the exact time and date of his next match.

apparently, you thought the sport seemed "really impressive". ( i.e. you were impressed. i.e. you were impressed by him playing tennis. or that's at least how he heard it.)

then, after he found out you were an english major, which wasn't a surprise, you finally brought up the topic of studying.

he spun in his desk chair, to face you.

"just some of this..interpretive stuff...i feel like i never know what the professor wants to hear from me." he tapped the end of his pen against the book he was holding. "well.." you shifted into a cross-legged postion, you were wearing shorts and he was trying really hard not to stare at your legs.

"you probably shouldnt be thinking about that in the first place, you know, what the professor wants to hear? you should think about what you actually got from the book." he knew this was pretty standard advice but when you said it, it sounded like the most intelligent, world-changing thing he'd ever heard.

"riiight...what if i didnt get anything from it?" he smiled sheepishly, leaning his head on his hand. you scrunched up your nose and playfully rolled your eyes, "oh, come on, how can you read classic literature and not get anything from it? i don't believe that."

you scooted forward a little. a little closer to him. a nervous chuckle left his lips, his gaze swept back and forth between you and the book before settling on you.

truth be told, he was doing fine, at least grade-wise, and even if he wasn't, it wasn't like he was striving to become an english professor, he mostly decided to take this class on a whim. but the part about struggling with interpretations was true, it just maybe wasn't necessarily a dire enough situation to require your help...

"well, maybe youre not asking yourself the right questions before you read." you hummed, gently tapping your finger against your leg. "can i see your notes?"

art panicked a bit at that. he wasn't sure why, but suddenly someone looking at his notes felt oddly intimate. you would be able to read the bits and parts of the book he regarded as important enough to jot down. what he liked. what he didn't like. perhaps it was a little intimate.

he tried to play it casual, though, and nodded as he handed you his english lit folder. his nerves only got worse the longer you took to read through them.

then suddenly, you smiled and nodded a little bit before looking up at him again. he prayed that you couldn't see the way his heart was trying to escape his ribcage right now.

"you know, you couldve just asked me out."

before his brain could even process that sentence, his mouth seemed to go into immediate action to splutter out some kind of denial in order to salvage this, "what? i- no, no, that's not- i mean, seriously why would-"

"i mean, i wouldn't have said no. like you didn't have to pretend to need my help. you clearly don't need it-" you gently tossed his folder back onto the desk. "-plus you're cute."

he didn't move for a good few seconds until he finally caught up to what had just happened.

now, this would've been the moment where he would've liked to be really cool and smooth in his response, but instead what happened was: "um..so then are we..like are you.."

in his defense you kind of caught him off guard. like completely. he had had a plan. how the study sessions would transition into friendship, and then maybe, hopefully at some point would transition into dating. he was a patient guy, really, and you had just skipped like...everything.

"are you free tomorrow?" you asked, as you stood up to grab your bag. wow, you were really taking the wheel at this point. and he discovered that he had shockingly little problem with that.

"uh, yeah, yeah i'm free..like all day." he did have training in the morning but he truly would skip it just this once if it came down to it.

"2pm?"

"sure."

"i'll text you?"

"okay."

"so..it's a date?"

you had stood up from the bed and were suddenly already on your way out. probably because you could tell he needed a minute.

"yeah, a date." he nodded with a (almost lovestruck) smile he hadn't even noticed had snuck its way unto his lips. you reciprocated with an equally excited grin, "cool."

before he knew it, the door had clicked shut, and he was alone again. he felt warm.

"cool."

[nvrcmplt]

Oh… oh shit. Javed blinked upon the face of confusion and felt his heart drop for her. Much like himself, stolen from his village, taken to a tower and forced to reach until his eyes bled and knowledge became his nightmare… He felt kinship rather quickly in his mind's fantasy of a matching circumstance but when she spoke of them having received tomes, a place to go and fashion critique, he did laugh out loud in surprise. "Oh wow… that's, uh… " Yeah that's something. As he stared over his work and rose a hand to his worn features to stroke a days' growth of stubble and then through unkempt rose-red hair, he took a moment to think it over.

"I don't know if you know but when a higher class offers a lower class their tomes, it's usually automatically announcing you're a student of theirs." His finger came to his cheek, scratching lightly. "It's part of the whole, magic students' thing." Javed wasn't blind either, he could sense just how powerful those papers were from where he sat in the middle of several magic books, usually it would be blotted out but to think she had something so valuable in the open… Then again, he was sure they were enchanted the moment she touched them to bind them to her. Another secret known-unknown amongst the communities.

"And he's right about your clothes, to have spontaneous fire and cotton isn't the best mix for a newbie." Many piles of ashen garments were the bane of all fire practitioners. "I'm Javed, by the by… looks like you've been thrown into the deep end too, huh?"

she startles at the voice, eyes of softest pink widening as she looks to other so sneakily approaching. (he has not, just so wrapped up in her own thoughts she failed to consider her surroundings.) a smile at the encouragement, for she is nothing if not spiteful, a failing her mother despairs over near every day, but she gives pause at what comes next.

"master?" a single word should not be able to convey so much confusion but arachne has always been highly expressive. "i don't- i set my curtains on fire an' had some weird dreams and then there was a guy at my front door tellin' me i was a witch like a badly casted harry potter porno..." the guy, witch, dahlia, certainly looked the part at least, as revealing as his robes had been. "he's not my master right? 'cause all he did was give me 2 books, an address which sounds made-up, an' told me i needed to upgrade my fashion sense."

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Chordata - Myxini

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Myxini, commonly called “hagfish”, “slime eels”, or even “snot snakes”, is the most simple class of vertebrates. They have one order, the Myxiniformes, and 3 families.

Hagfish have a cartilaginous skull but no vertebral column, though they do have rudimentary vertebrae. They also have tooth-like structures composed of keratin. Species range from 4 cm (1.6 in) to 127 cm (4 ft 2 in) long. They have elongated, worm-like bodies, and paddle-like tails. The skin is naked and loose, attached only along the center ridge of the back and at the slime glands. They have simple eyespots which only detect light, six or eight barbels around the mouth, and a single nostril. Their jaws move horizontally rather than vertically like other vertebrates, projecting two pairs of horny, comb-shaped tooth plates that grasp food and pull it into the mouth. They are marine predators and/or scavengers.

Hagfish are most well-known for their defense mechanism: releasing copious amounts of slime from specialized mucous glands in their skin. The slime reacts to seawater, expanding to 10,000 times its original size in 0.4 seconds. This slime is flexible, more durable and retentive than the slime excreted by any other animals. If a predator is not deterred by the sudden mouthful of slime, hagfish can also tie themselves into a knot to scrape more slime off of their bodies, wiggling free from their captor while its gills are clogged. Hagfish will also use this traveling knot behavior to clean themselves of any excess mucous.

Very little is known about hagfish reproduction. They are split into males and females, with females usually outnumbering males. Depending on species, females lay from 1 to 30 tough, yolky eggs. The eggs stick together with velcro-like tufts at either end. They do not have a larval stage and hatch as miniature adults.

The oldest-known stem group hagfish are known from the Late Carboniferous, with modern forms first being recorded from the mid-Cretaceous.

Propaganda under the cut:

Hagfish thread keratin, the protein that make up their slime filaments, is under investigation as an alternative to spider silk for use in applications such as body armor.

Hagfish slime threads can also be used as ultra-strong fiber for clothing.

Hagfish skin, used in a variety of clothing accessories, is usually referred to as "eel skin". It produces a particularly durable leather used for wallets and belts.

Remember this?

In 2017, a truck carrying 7,500 pounds of live hagfish got into a road accident on U.S. Highway 101. The aggravated hagfish then released enough slime to cover the road and nearby cars. Horror movie situation tbh.

But why were several tons of hagfish being shipped in a truck? Well, they were on their way to Korea for seafood purposes. Yeah. They are eaten in Korea and Japan.

Hagfish have a sluggish metabolism and can survive months between feedings; this is likely due to the scarcity of food on the seafloor. When food is present, such as a dead whale, they can go into a feeding frenzy.

Here I am listing all these ways that humans use them, but hagfish are also an important part of the deep sea ecosystem. Plus… I think they’re cute and I too wish I could produce a bunch of slime when I don’t want people to touch me. I mean, Howl in “Howl’s Moving Castle” does it and people love him, so…

[yourgalgremlin]

Regulus: If you don’t let me destroy that VELCRO WALLET w/ fire right now, I’ll go full Walburga Black on your ass.

Regulus: That’s not a threat it’s a promise, bitch.

[indelicateink]

@fablesdelightme god you're so right, it's so... i have to post the whole exchange here because i am screaming in my heart lmao

Louis: Is that all you think of her? Daniel: Mostly. I also think she makes you and Frenchie look like a couple of whiny, existential queens. Probably why she's a fuckin' goldmine. A girl who moves a million books. Louis: I won't have her exploited. Daniel: Won't matter what your intentions are. It's the world out there now. She's the-- the…single-shooter, Xbox, mouth-breather shit they crave. Louis: You can put the diaries in a proper context. Daniel: Context? Sure. Warn the world about a forthcoming apocalypse. Or maybe inspire a line of sexy Claudia Halloween costumes. Or a cool dismemberment trend amongst the suburban Sylvia Plath set. Once you put it out there, they decide what it is. It can get away from you.

--Interview with the Vampire (2022), season 1 episode 5

Freaking hot topic dropping a collection lmao

[wannaeatramyeon]

THANK U FOR THE RECENT SAMUEL SEO im literally so obsessed with him i cant-

but!! he’s not the only one!!

could u try goo with a childhood friends!lover? (im just going through my list of red flags boyfriends with this trope heh)

To my requests. sorry for not answering in order. Btw I've got a school day/teenager long fic with Goo in the Gun + Goo masterlist... but how about this.

Goo Kim x Reader: Childhood 'friends'

G/N. Sorta childhood friends to lovers.

Goo descends into your life like an angel.

"Will you pay me if I beat up these boys?" he shouts over, giving the wooden baseball bat in his hand a few practice swings.

(He takes in your cowering body, cornered against the wall, the group of older boys slinging insults first.

Then your pristine, limited edition trainers and the expensive label on your clothes second.)

You look over at the short figure with the badly bleached blonde hair. He seems small for his age, same as you.

Best case scenario, he makes good on his word. Worst case, they beat both of you up.

You give a nod and all hell breaks loose.

.

.

Goo isn't an angel at all. He's a demon that has ascended and strutted into your life.

"Is this enough?" You ask, peeling open your velcro Sanrio wallet and removing a handful of bills.

"Thanks!" Goo swipes it out of your hand, tainting the notes with blood before tucking it away in his pocket with a reassuring pat.

A body at his feet lets out a groan and he gives them a hard kick. You think there’s a crunch of bone breaking. It’s not as sickening as you thought it would be.

"That one's for free." He gives you a gigawatt grin and you return it. In your eyes, not even what you just witnessed this boy doing could tarnish his shine.

"My name is Goo," he signals for your phone and you hand it over without a second thought. He taps in what you assume are his contact details before giving it back.

"Call me if you need any help." You reach out to take it and he leans in, smile taking a dangerous edge, "You'll need to pay though."

.

.

For fear of retribution, you ask Goo to walk you back home from school everyday for the next few weeks.

You text him a time and an address, and he texts you back his price. It's enough to drain your allowance, but not enough for you to risk your safety.

He waits for you by your school gates everyday, with his patchy hair and a scruffy jacket three sizes too big, and gives you a wave with both arms whenever he spots you.

He's chatty. Much chattier than you expected. Always just seemingly rattling off whatever is on his mind. Animes he has watched, manhwas he's reading. What he had for lunch, what he's craving for dinner.

You piece together that Goo is only a few months older than you. He should be in 6th grade by now but he never mentions school. You don't think he even attends school.

He also has a terrible sweet tooth, that you pay for of course. Stopping off at a convenience store together as he picks out a snack.

"Get whatever you want." you say the first time you catch him deciding between a drink or a bar of chocolate. "I'll pay for it."

He buys both.

That should have been a mistake. He drains your allowance further everyday. Yet you can't help thinking it's fine as he gives you a toothy grin that reaches his eyes.

The weeks pass by in the blink of an eye. When you reach your front door on the last day, Goo shuffles, fidgets uncharacteristically.

"I can keep walking you home," he says, eyes on the floor and kicking at dirt. "...I can give you a discount."

.

.

Goo starts seeing you at the weekend too.

You're the first person that sees him after getting his hair professionally done.

"I'm handsome, aren't I!" his bravado masks his nervousness. He doesn't know why he's nervous in the first place, but when you agree and ruffle his newly coiffed locks, it evaporates completely.

Payment comes in the form of food and drinks, snacks and street food, cinema tickets, small little gifts he has his eye on.

As consolation, at least he always shares.

.

.

When you first met you're sure he was shorter than you.

You don't remember when he matched your height, but now you notice you have to tilt your chin up to look at him.

You miss the scruffy jacket he used to have. The one that he rapidly grew out of, body filling out with muscle. It gets replaced by more and more luxurious brands. His hair looks more and more polished. He picks up glasses along the way to complete the look.

He still makes you pay every time you meet. You feel like he lets you off easy with cheap choices because his taste these days seems anything but cheap.

You wish you had more time with the boy you used to know, but you love the man he's growing into.

Goo never lets you sway too far away from him, keeps you by his side most weeks. Reaches out to send you silly memes or calls you just to ramble his thoughts when you're apart.

You're two peas in a pod.

.

.

The longest time you spend apart is when Goo is sent away to juvie.

An unknown number texts you, says they're Goo's cousin and breaks the news.

It doesn't come as a surprise, considering how you first met, the person he is. You've spent years together at this point and seen him at his most violent and bloodthirsty.

Still. For you, nothing can tarnish his shine.

.

.

On the day Goo is released, you're waiting for him outside the juvenile detention centre.

You're the first person he sees, and he waves at you with both arms before opening them, welcoming you, offering himself.

He’s even taller, more muscular. His features distinguished and jawline cutting. His hair, just like years gone by, is bleached and patchy. 

The grin is the same. It’s always the same.

You sprint and throw yourself full force into Goo, knocking the air out of his lungs.

He holds you tight. Clings on harder than he ever has. Missed you more than he will ever admit.

As if you're reading his mind, you murmur into his collar, "I've missed you.'

Goo takes a deep inhale, nose nestled in your hair and breathing in your familiar scent. Relishing your touch, your presence, you.

He doesn't plan on spending this long away from you ever again.

"Me too, Sweetheart."