#custom glasswork

[valkyrierps]

Dining - Traditional Kitchen Example of a large, traditional galley kitchen with an exposed beam ceiling, a medium-toned wood floor, beaded inset cabinets, light wood cabinets, marble countertops, a multicolored or ceramic backsplash, stainless steel appliances, and an island.

[thereisanother]

Wine Cellar New York

Ideas for a small, classic wine cellar renovation with a brown floor

[literathemes]

Stone Exterior Inspiration for a massive, enduring renovation of a three-story, stone exterior home with a shingle roof and a gray roof.

[casetagram]

Stone Exterior Huge elegant beige three-story stone exterior home photo with a shingle roof and a gray roof

[screamflydream]

Mudroom - Foyer Example of a large classic limestone floor, beige floor and wood wall entryway design with white walls and a metal front door

[dirkdarmstaedter]

Image of a small, elegant cork-floor wine cellar

[kadanandco]

Use code 10OFF FOR 10% OFF ORDERS OVER $15.00 until Dec. 7th at 11.59 P.M. EST

[glassworksus]

Custom Floating Glass Shelves Elegant Storage Solutions

Elevate your decor with our custom floating glass shelves, designed to blend functionality with style. Perfect for any room, our shelves offer a sleek, modern touch to showcase your items beautifully.

[jpartglass]

Frequently Asked Questions About Toughened Glass

1. What is toughened glass? Toughened glass, also known as tempered glass, is a type of safety glass that is processed through controlled thermal or chemical treatments to increase its strength. It is significantly stronger and safer than regular glass, as it shatters into small, blunt pieces upon impact, reducing the risk of injury.

2. What are the advantages of toughened glass? Toughened glass offers several benefits, including enhanced safety, durability, thermal resistance, and strength. It is ideal for various applications, such as doors, windows, facades, shower enclosures, and automotive windows, where safety and durability are paramount.

3. How is toughened glass manufactured? Toughened glass undergoes a specialized heating and rapid cooling process, known as tempering, which strengthens its molecular structure. This process involves heating the glass to a high temperature and then rapidly cooling it to induce surface compression and internal tension, resulting in increased strength and safety.

4. What are the applications of toughened glass? Toughened glass is used in a wide range of applications, including residential, commercial, and automotive sectors. It is commonly used for doors, windows, partitions, balustrades, shower enclosures, glass facades, tabletops, and automotive windows due to its strength, safety, and aesthetic appeal.

5. Is toughened glass customizable? Yes, toughened glass can be customized to suit specific requirements in terms of size, thickness, shape, tint, and finishes. Manufacturers offer a variety of customization options to meet the diverse needs of customers for both functional and aesthetic purposes.

6. How does toughened glass enhance safety? Toughened glass is designed to reduce the risk of injury in the event of breakage. Unlike regular glass, which breaks into sharp shards, toughened glass shatters into small, blunt pieces that are less likely to cause serious harm. This property makes it a preferred choice for applications where safety is paramount.

7. Is toughened glass suitable for use in extreme temperatures? Yes, toughened glass exhibits excellent thermal resistance and can withstand sudden temperature changes without cracking or breaking. It is suitable for use in areas exposed to high temperatures, such as kitchen splashbacks, oven doors, and glass facades.

8. How can I clean and maintain toughened glass? Toughened glass is relatively easy to clean and maintain. You can use a mild detergent or glass cleaner with a soft cloth or sponge to remove dirt and stains. Avoid using abrasive materials or harsh chemicals, as they can damage the glass surface. Regular cleaning and maintenance will help preserve the clarity and appearance of toughened glass over time.

9. What quality standards should I look for when purchasing toughened glass? When purchasing toughened glass, look for products that meet industry standards and certifications for safety glazing materials. Ensure that the manufacturer adheres to quality control measures and conducts rigorous testing to ensure the strength, durability, and safety of their products.

10. Where can I purchase toughened glass in Mysore? You can purchase top-quality toughened glass products from reputable manufacturers and suppliers in Mysore. Look for companies that have a proven track record of delivering high-quality products and excellent customer service to meet your specific requirements.

Author - JP Art & Safety Glass

[heathersglasscreationsnz]

Website : https://www.heathersglasscreations.com

Address : 844 State Highway 2, RD1, Otane 4276, New Zealand

Heather's Glass Creations specializes in handcrafted goods using recycled and repurposed glassware. The business, located in New Zealand, has evolved from a small-scale hobby to a full-time venture, now operating from a dedicated studio. Heather's unique pieces include jewelry and garden art, created by transforming recycled glass into treasured items. The business also offers workshops for those interested in learning the craft.

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/heathersglasscreation

Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/heathersglasscreations/

Felt : https://felt.co.nz/shop/glasscreations

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[saeruth]

Stone Exterior

[unityrain24]

shoutout to these epic lesser-appreciated forms of art:

bookbinding

crochet doll making

ooak doll customizing (from previously existing doll)

ooak dolls (from scratch)

metalworking/forging

glass blowing (large scale)

the glassworking/blowing that's the smaller scale where you can do it in just a regular room idk what it's called

intricate terrarium/aquaterium making where it's almost like a miniature

miniature/bigature making

whjaksnaisodabhs so cool guys keep up the good work

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Cellbit starts overthinking his upcoming wedding (again), big surprise there

For Spiderbit Week Day Two: Modern AU | Family

-

The wedding is in a week and a half, and Cellbit can already tell that he isn't going to be able to sleep until his honeymoon. Not from the stress of wedding preparations- no, Pac and Mike and Foolish have got all of those covered. Not from cold feet, either- he loves Roier so much that his heart aches from the weight of it all, and he knows that Roier loves him just as much.

No, the wedding planning is going fine. Perfectly, even. The hall is picked out, and Pac and Foolish are going to start decorating it soon enough. The food is all set thanks to Phil's absolute prodigy of a son. The band, Radio Egg, has been practicing almost daily for about a month now. The officiant is ready. The suits are ready. The flowers are ready.

But...

Sighing, Cellbit looks out over the venue with his arms crossed. He shouldn't even be here- he promised Roier that he'd try and take a step back from all the wedding planning and preparations before his hair started falling out from stress, but Richarlyson wanted to show Bobby the venue, and, well. How could Cellbit say no to that?

"Look!" Richarlyson says, pointing the iPad up at a large stained glass window above the venue's doors. "It's a sunset!"

Bobby's response is garbled by both the iPad and the internet connection, but he sounds impressed enough.

Satisfied with his brother's response, Richarlyson beams and takes off to show him the gardens outside.

Cellbit lets him go. He doesn't want to bring the mood down with all his thinking.

The venue is one of Foolish and Vegetta's properties. It's gorgeous: large, open doorways, exposed wood framing, custom stained glasswork. It borders a river, and it's surrounded by a dense, peaceful forest. There are gardens now thanks to Pac and Mike (with Foolish's supervision.)

It's... big.

It's really big.

Which is fine! It's great, even! Roier has a lot of family coming! He has his parents, his grandfather, his (asshole) twin brother. Leo. Maybe even Bobby, if Bobby's doctors clear him for travel for a day.

And then there are his friends. Jaiden, Etoiles, Rivers, Carre, Mariana, Mariana's bizarre estranged husband. Missa, who is bringing Phil as his plus one, who is bringing both of their children. Pol, who is also acting as their photographer. Even some of Vegetta's old friends are coming, and some of Foolish's like Tina and Mouse.

There are a lot of chairs set up already on Roier's side of the venue. At least two dozen already, and some more are probably going to be added soon depending on whether or not Roier decides to invite Quackity and his (asshole) twin brother after all.

Cellbit looks at Roier's side.

And then he looks at his side and the six entire chairs set up.

Cellbit... has Pac and Mike. He has Felps. Richarlyson, of course, is coming. So is Bagi, who agreed to come only if she could bring her daughter. But Empanada might decide to sit by her other mothers, and so might Bagi. So there could just be four people on Cellbit's side of the venue. Maybe a chair for Bad, but the invitation he responded to was Roier's and not Cellbit's, and is Cellbit overthinking this? No, yeah, right?

Outside, Richarlyson whoops and shouts, "Did you see that? I told you I can do a backflip now!"

Cellbit quietly lets out a single puff of laughter. He smiles, just a little, and goes to sit on the first chair on his side of the venue. In a perfect world, it would be his father's chair. But.

He leans his head back and looks up at the ceiling, hands clasped across his chest. His fingertips brush against his engagement ring. It was the best he could afford, but Roier deserves better.

His eyes slip shut.

Roier deserves better.

Slowly, Cellbit takes in a deep breath. He lets it out just as slowly. Breathing exercises, the same ones that Melissa taught him months ago when they first met while waiting outside of Roier's office.

(Melissa isn't coming to the wedding. Apparently, she's too busy with "business things". She sent a lovely card and a bouquet of flowers, though. So there's that.)

When Cellbit had reached out to his parents a month ago with wedding invitations, it was the first time he'd spoken to them since getting out of prison. Roier encouraged him to do it, just in case they actually changed their minds since their last conversation with him years and years ago.

But:

"Sorry, you must have sent this to the wrong address," Cellbit's father had written back. The invitation was wrinkled and folded messily into the back of the envelope with Cellbit's name scribbled out on it in red pen.

(He wrote a letter, a letter! Because he had blocked Cellbit's email and phone number and... it's understandable, actually.)

Felps is going to be the one to walk with Cellbit down the aisle. Both of Roier's fathers are walking him.

Cellbit isn't jealous of his fiancé. He knows that he's alone for a reason; the fresh scar across Roier's grandfather's face is proof enough of that.

It just... hurts. A little. Just a little.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket. Only one person actually bothers reaching out to him, and so Cellbit smiles and pulls his phone out and accepts the call.

"Guapito!" he cheers.

"Gatinho!" Roier responds. "Hola, hola! Are you and Richarlyson still at the venue?"

"Mhmm. He's showing Bobby the river now, I think."

"Awww."

"Awww."

Roier bumps into something on the other end of the line and swears:

"Fucking- whatever! I'm fine!"

(Cellbit's smile aches from the sweet fondness dripping off it.)

Then, Roier asks, "How does it look? Send me a picture."

Never one to disobey his fiancé's orders, Cellbit gets out of the chair and walks up to the front of the venue. He takes a quick photo, sends it to Roier, tries not to feel too disappointed as he's faced with the sad reality of his familial situation yet again.

Roier is quiet for a moment.

And then, softly:

"They didn't RSVP, did they?"

Cellbit decides to feign indifference.

"Yeah, but it's fine. Felps said he's fine with walking me down the aisle."

"Isn't he your best man?"

"I think everybody in my wedding party except for Bagi is my best man."

"Even Richarlyson?"

Cellbit goes to take a look out the door. Richarlyson has calmed down by now, and he and Bobby are just talking now: Richarlyson spread out on the grass, Bobby propped up next to him. They're talking about nothing and everything and only things that other children would understand.

Turning back to the venue, Cellbit replies, "Nah, he's the ring bearer."

"Aww, that's cute. Bobby can help!"

"I thought Bobby was the flower boy."

"He can have two jobs."

Cellbit's smile saddens slightly. "Right."

(Because they don't even know if Bobby will be able to make it. So far, it's a yes, but things can change in just a week and a half. It only took two minutes for Bobby to need to be hospitalized, a week is nothing.)

"Speaking of jobs-" Roier starts.

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "I told you, I'm not quitting. Someone needs to keep an eye on Cucurucho."

"Sure, yeah, shut up, let me speak, okay? Okay?"

Cellbit shuts up.

Roier lets out a breath, and his smile is audible as he says, "I have a job for you! Since you're there, move some of my chairs over to your side. Try and make it even."

Cellbit's mouth goes dry. "I... what?"

"You heard me! Do I need to come and do it myself?"

"No, no! It's your day off! I'm just... why?"

"'Why'? Because they're all your family, too, stupid. We're getting married. Mi familia es tu familia."

Stunned into silence, Cellbit can only listen as Roier continues: "It's our wedding, who cares if the audience is all mixed up? Who gives a shit!"

Weakly, Cellbit echoes, "Who gives a shit. But, Roier, are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

A brief pause, and then, quieter, Roier adds, "Only if you're okay with it. I don't want to, like-"

"No, it's fine. I..." Tears welling up and lungs filling with emotion, Cellbit chokes out, "I love you. Te amo."

"Ay, now! Save it for the wedding!"

"Não," Cellbit simply says, "Eu te amo. Pendejo."

"You're going to make me cry, what the fuck?"

Roier sniffs. So does Cellbit. But Cellbit is smiling, and he knows that Roier is, too.

Outside, Richarlyson laughs. So does Bobby, in his cute little robotic way.

Cellbit looks at the chairs. They'll all be filled in a week and a half, and it'll be the best day of his life. He'll be married, and his entire family will be watching, and that's all he's ever wanted.

[mintmatcha]

a meet cute

cw: cisfem reader, reader is part gnome, dungeon meshi universe, it's about an insane side character, sorry

A gentle breeze cuts across the shop, just over the front counter. You have to lean into it to get any sort of relief from this summer's heat. Your shop door's bell chimes as a customer walks in. It's unusual that anyone is out this time of day in this type of heat, let someone fully robed, scarf and hat included. He's dressed in dark, rich colors, the types of dye that drip with indigo and money, a contrast to the reddish tuft of hair of his head.

He'd be cute, you think, if he wasn't a gnome.

It's not that you don't like gnomes-- you are one, mostly-- but gnomes around your age are boring. The men nod along to anything you say, try to impress you with pleasantries and tidbits, all with that glint in their eye, they've found their next wife. They are dictated by societal niceities and traditions, topped off with a strange sense of superiority, all while they still eye you like a piece of meat-

But this gnome isn't looking at you like that. No, he's marveling at your wears.

The stranger tilts the glass in the sunlight and rainbows refract across the floor, dancing in looping, wonderful patterns long after his movement has stopped. Figures of dancers twirling around each other, bowing and dipping with ease, disappate into the air. His hands are actually a bit small for a gnome, thin fingers, uncalloused and delicate with the way he inspects the magic.

"The runes on this are subtle," he notes, mostly to himself. "Gnome magic on elven crystal."

"You have good taste." You lean more forward on to the oak surface and he jumps a bit, as if he hadn't noticed you were even there. "And a keen eye."

The man melts into a polite smile. His eyes are downturned and his cheeks are round, tickled pink from the sun. He approaches you, a prickle of chill following suit. There must be some elemental magic sown into his clothing or something.

"Thank you."

"No, thank you," you say. "It's my work."

"You have a talented hand for magic, then."

"And you have a talented eye."

His nose wiggles in that delightfully gnomish way that only old men do. "No talent, all practice."

You give him your name, he gives you his. Holm. Classic. Boring. Standard.

"Is this a gift for your wife?"

"Oh, I'm not--" He waves that thought away with disinterest-- which happens to peak yours. "My party mate is getting married."

"An elf?"

"Dwarf, actually." He twirls to glass again and the waltz of light resumes. "To be honest, we aren't very close. I don't really know what she likes, I just think she deserves something nice."

"The effect won't be as brilliant for her, because dwarfs don't tend to have a very good mana flow, but it'll still be pretty. A couple glasses for her and her beau-" You wipe away a bead of sweat that's begun to roll down the side of your neck. "And maybe a bottle of chilled wine. I think that's a very good present for anyone."

He nods, button nose crinkled with delight as he places the glasswork on the table before you. "I'll get a sex then."

A beat passes. You can't help the wild smile that sneaks out. "What was that?"

"Hm?" He hasn't moved, frozen in place, still holding the glass. His expression doesn't change, but you swear there's a touch of pink creeping over his ears.

"You said a sex."

"No, I said a /set./"

"No, you didn't." You cock your head to the side in the way that makes your neck look long and your smile charming. "Are you thinking about sex, Mr Holm?"

He swallows and you think maybe you've gone too far. Your brand of needling is more of a half foot type of humor, which isn't universally appreciated, to say the least.

"I'm- I don't--" Holm surprises you by laughing at him self. "I don't do that."

Interesting. A gnome with a sense of humor. You didn't know those existed. You lean back, trying to bite back your smile as you speak. "What? Think about sex?"

"Or anything else to do with that word."

You inspect him a bit closer. The colors, the hat, the symbol burnt into his pouch-- they're religious symbols. He's a spirit worshipper, one of the religions in the south. You aren't sure of all of the intricacies, but you know the most devout are completely celibate.

Holm shrugs rather casually. "Close enough."

"Oh, you're one of those monk-things, aren't you?" For some reason, you're a bit disappointed. Of course the man you have a nice rapport with is one that won't fuck you.

Not that you want to fuck him.

"So, you must think about sex a lot." You call as you walk to your backroom. There's a couple of different versions of the glasses, so it takes you a moment to find another set of dancers. Really, this guy has nice taste; this is your favorite piece. "Since you can't have any."

"Probably less than you do-" he calls back. "Since you heard is when I clearly said set."

Despite yourself, you laugh. It's not particularly funny, but there's butterflies in your chest and a tremble in your hands. You wrap the glasses in pieces of cloth and ribbon-- purple, to match his scarf-- before bringing them back up. The stranger is still watching you with that look on his face, the crinkle in his eye-

"It's on the house," You slide the gift wrapped presents over to him.

"I couldn't possibly."

"Just come back again some time. Or buy me a beer if you see me at the bar."

You both know that isn't a fair trade. Crystal is expensive, magic work even more so; you could charge him a couple hundred gold if you wanted, but... conversation is sometimes more valuable than money.

"I don't drink." He rubs the back of his neck, almost sheepish. "I eat, though."

The flutter in your chest gets worse. "Food then."

He nods. Taking the gift, he picks it up and starts towards the door, a hum on his voice and a deeper smile creeping up on his face. When he gets to the door, he puts up an arm to open it, then pauses.

He turns back around.

"I want to pay." The strange says, firmly. "I'll still buy you food, but I want to pay for these."

He pulls a bag of coins from his belt and presses them into your hand. It's heavy with gold. He doesn't pull away until you meet his dark, stern eyes and close your hand around the bag.

"I don't want to lead you on," he says, softly. "I find you very..."

He says more with silence than his words.

"Don't worry," you say, even though a worry does creep up your spine. "I'm not so desperate that I'll fall in love with a priest."

"Not a priest, but thank you." His cheeks puff with smile and you immediately know that you may have lied.

[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.