#might document said project here

[kayayayayayayayayayayayaya]

Am doing Story and oh god mhihi Just doing some mhihi

Truly beautiful

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Long distance girlfriend surprising Rafe

Request: Reader going to college on the east coast and being stuck there because of snow + Rafe being sad

—

‘’Thank you for choosing Cameron Development for your project, Mr. Phillips. Our secretary will email the documents shortly,’’ Rafe said in his polished, customer-service tone. ‘’Happy holidays.’’

The second the call ended, his forced smile vanished, leaving his face set in a grim scowl. He’s never been a fan of Christmas, but for the first time, he had been looking forward to it — his first Christmas with you. But that changed when a snowstorm hit the East Coast, forcing all flights in New York to get cancelled. 

Rafe leaned back in his leather office chair, running a hand through his buzzed hair in frustration. It was only 3pm, but he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was you, alone in your apartment in New York, and most importantly, miles away from him. He thought of driving to you, but Topper resonated with him. If flights were cancelled, some roads would be closed too. 

Why must you go to college so far away? With a sigh, Rafe picked up his personal phone for the tenth time today, and re-reading your last message. He was hurting himself by doing this, but reading your message also brought him some comfort. 

I’m so sorry I can’t make it to you, baby 😢💔 I’ve been keeping track of the flights, but everything is still cancelled… This snow really wants to sabotage our first Christmas! 😠 In case nothing changes, I’m gonna video-call you on Christmas morning…in my sexy lingerie set I got just for you. Wish you were there to unwrap me 🎁🤭

Before he could finish reading, Wheezie’s face filled his screen with an incoming call. 

‘’Wheezie? Why are you calling me?’’ Rafe frowned, leaning back in his chair. She never called him at work unless it was important.

‘’Rafe! Thank god you picked up! I tried calling Sarah, but she didn’t answer.’’ Wheezie's voice was high-pitched and panicked, words spilling out in a rush. 

‘’Wheezie, what is it?’’ he asked. 

‘’I tried making gingerbread cookies, but I guess I left them in for too long...’’

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache coming on. ‘’Just throw them out if they’re burned. It’s not worth breaking a tooth over.’’

‘’No, you don’t understand,’’ she cried, her voice breaking slightly. ‘’There’s smoke all over the kitchen!’’ A coughing fit punctuated her sentence, and Rafe’s heart dropped.

‘’What? Wheeze, are you okay?’’ 

He was already standing, grabbing his keys. Fuck work. 

‘’Can you come home? Please, Rafe. Dad is gonna be so mad if I burn the house down—’’ 

He didn’t even wait to hang up properly before he was out the door. ‘’I’m coming, Wheeze. Just, stay away from the oven, okay? And get outside if it gets worse. Do you hear me?’’ Rafe’s tone sharpened, his protective instincts kicking in.

Rafe pulled into the driveway of Tannyhill, tires screeching as he parked quickly. His jaw was tight, still on edge from Wheezie’s frantic call. The house seemed calm from the outside, which was strange because she said there was smoke all over the kitchen.

He opened the front door. “Wheezie?” he called out, stepping into the house, his eyes scanning for signs of smoke. ‘’Wheezie, I’m here. Where’s the damn smoke you talked about?’’ 

The kitchen light was on, and as he stepped closer, his stomach dropped. Instead of finding his little sister panicking, he found you standing in the middle of the kitchen, grinning at him. 

‘’Hi.’’ 

For a split second, neither of you moved. Then, you ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him. Rafe’s brain scrambled to catch up. Then it clicked. The familiar scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your arms — it was really you. His arms locked around your waist like he was afraid you might disappear, and you buried your face in his chest, clutching him like you’d never let go.

‘’What the—’’ He pulled back just enough to grab your face, his blue eyes searching yours, wide with disbelief. ‘’You’re here? Really here?’’

‘’Surprise, baby,’’ you murmured before pressing your lips to his, cutting off whatever string of disbelief he was about to voice again.

The kiss was soft at first, but as the realization sank in, Rafe pulled you closer, deepening it, one hand sliding to your back while the other tangled in your hair. It was desperate and relieved, like he couldn’t believe you were actually there, standing in his kitchen, and not miles away in New York.

He hadn’t seen you since his weekend visit for Thanksgiving, he couldn’t settle with a peck. 

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, faces inches apart. 

Rafe’s forehead pressed against yours. ‘’But you were in New York. The flights—’’ He blinked, still trying to process, his grip on your waist tightening. ‘’How are you here? I mean…what—? Wheezie called me about some fire in the kitchen.’’ He glanced around, half-expecting his sister to pop out from somewhere. 

You laughed, guilt flickering across your face. ‘’Yeah, that was her idea. There’s no fire. I told her to find something to make you come home. It worked, didn’t it?’’ 

His eyebrows shot up. ‘’She knew about you coming here and didn’t tell me?!’’ 

You nodded. Flights being cancelled was not a lie, but you were able to take a train to another state — where the snow was not as bad ���, and take a flight there. You texted Wheezie during your flight, asking for help to surprise Rafe. Why would she not help the girl who brought smiles on her brother’s moody face?

‘’Sorry, baby.’’ You looked up and rubbed your hands over his work button up, feeling the planes of his muscled chest and the warmth of his skin underneath. ‘’I just… I couldn’t stand hearing how sad you sounded yesterday. I had to get here, I tried everything in my power to get to you. Don’t be mad at her, okay? She just wanted to help me.’’

Rafe shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you close as he tilted his head. ‘’You’re lucky I love you,’’ he murmured, his voice absentmindedly falling into your relationship bubble where it was just you and him.

You stayed like that for a moment, bathing in each other’s embrace, until a thought crossed your mind. ‘’Rafe? There’s one other thing I need to tell you: I left your Christmas present in New York…’’ You pulled back, guilt filling you again as you continued and explained yourself. ‘’It was on the table so I wouldn’t forget it, but—’’ 

But Rafe couldn't care less. 

‘’That’s okay. There’s only you on my wishlist anyway.’’ 

—

OBX taglist: @moralina@eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx@sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife   @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue   @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker   @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage   @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc   @pedrosprincess   @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb   @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom   @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey   @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld   @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble   @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius   @buckyswhxre @emerald-09   @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey  @ynmunson @riddle18  @love4ldr @withfireandbl00d @wonderland2425 @blublock404 @eddieslut69

[cognitiveoverload]

Nobody got you the way I do (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: One of your employees turns out to be a serial killer, and the BAU suspects that he might want to hurt you too, so they want to make sure you're safe. Hotch takes it a little too seriously, and there's a reason for that.

note: I'm not so sure about this one, I don't know why. But this is the robotics expert!CEO!reader story I mentioned in the poll.

tags: afab!reader, overprotective!Hotch, brat tamer!Hotch?

wc: 5.4k

“I told you not to bother me today.”

Your assistant, Lizzie, is the only one at this company who spends the entire day in high heels, which is why the familiar clicking sound lets you know it’s her who entered your private lab. Since you know who it is, you don’t even look up from the prosthetic arm you have lying on the table in front of you, connected to your laptop to spend the day fixing the damn thing. A deadline is coming up, and you took charge of this pet project of yours, this is why you are dead serious when you ask your employees to respect your request to leave you alone for now. 

She lets out a hesitant hum as she steps closer to you, leaning down so you can hear her clearly even when she speaks quietly. “Two FBI agents are here to see you. They said it was important,” she tells you. 

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you look up to find two men standing there in the room. One of them is young, maybe a few years younger than you, and his eyes are focused on the prototype you’re working on. The other? Now, that’s an interesting situation. The other agent in question is someone you have met before, at a party over half a year ago, when he helped you talk to a suicidal acquaintance who decided to pick that night to jump off the roof of the building. Unlike his colleague’s, his eyes are fixed on you, making you feel like you’re currently being studied under a microscope. 

“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” you ask casually, folding your hands on the table. 

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, this is Dr. Reid,” the older man begins, pretending not to know you. Well, if that’s how he wants to play, you’re happy to join the game. “Your company showed up as a link between the victims in a series of murders.” He puts a folder in front of you, waiting until you open it to take a look at the paper inside. “Is there anything they have in common besides being your ex-employees?”

You go through the list of names, and it’s instantly obvious what that thing is. “They were all fired,” you reply as you close the folder and push it back towards them.

Sadly, Hotch knows there’s more to the story, and he’s not afraid to pry for more information. “And? I know there’s something you’re not telling us. Why were they fired?”

“Corporate espionage.” While you don’t want to go into the details and think about these cases again, they both seem interested in hearing what it’s all about, so you let out a sigh and continue. “They were all caught selling confidential information to our competitors or anyone who was willing to pay enough. Classic case, nothing unusual.”

Reid bites his lips as he quickly thinks about something. “What’s the process if you have a case like this? What do you do?” he wonders.

“I usually let my Chief Security Officer take care of it. His name is Jonathan Hayes, he’s been with us since the beginning, so he knows everything about the company. He sits down with the employee in question with HR present, hands over the paperwork, and beside that, he consults the legal department to take care of the rest,” you explain.

“We didn’t find court documents,” Hotch points out. 

With a small smirk, you shrug. “I don’t need scandals. We keep things quiet.” 

The two men look at each other, then, as if there was a silent agreement between them, they excuse themselves and ask for a moment while they discuss something outside. With a shrug, you roll the swivel chair to the side to check something on the laptop, but moments after you begin to tweak the set of codes on the screen, your fingers freeze above the keyboard and your gaze shifts to the glass wall to take a look at them. Whatever they’re talking about, it surely involves you, because every now and then they turn your way. Perfect. They hopefully don’t think you used Hayes as your personal assassin or something.

A few minutes later they finally return, and it’s Reid who speaks up. “Can we talk to Hayes? We have some questions, hopefully he can help us out.”

“He’s on unpaid leave due to some family issue,” you tell them. 

“Since when?” he asks with a frown.

You blow out the air you didn’t even notice you’ve been holding, and lean back in your chair as you think. “He left about a month ago. Why?”

Before Reid can speak up, Hotch takes a deep breath and steps closer to the desk. “Has he tried to contact you since then?” he asks, his voice laced with worry that you’re not sure his colleague can detect. But you notice, you’re painfully aware of it.

“He called a few times, but usually when I was busy doing something else.”

“So you didn’t talk to him?”

“Not really.”

“When was the last time he called you?” 

That one you don’t have to think about. “Three days ago. He called me more and more frequently in the week before that, and since he didn’t stop even after I sent him a text to find my assistant, I decided to block his number until he returns,” you explain. 

Reid turns to his boss when he hears this. “The timeline checks out, and his number being blocked might be what triggered the changes in his method and the messages,” he says quickly. 

There’s a nod of agreement before Hotch turns back to you. “You need to come with us now.” 

“What did I do?”

“Nothing wrong, don’t worry. But Hayes will soon be looking for you, and we’d rather have you somewhere safe until we find him,” he tells you, earning a doubtful look from you. 

Because you have a feeling Hayes stepped up to be their prime suspect, although it simply doesn’t make sense to you. If you don’t count this little phone call issue, your relationship is quite good, and he’s always so nice, so friendly. “He would never hurt anyone,” you tell them, deciding that ignoring them might be the best approach. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to ask you to leave now. I have a lot to do.”

“Listen to me,” you hear Hotch’s hushed voice once he leans over the table, “you’re not safe until we catch him, so put the attitude aside and come with us.”

With a huff, you look back at the screen and begin to type like they weren’t even there. But despite your best effort, his brown eyes are burning a hole into your skull, and you can feel the annoyance that fills him. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say without looking at him.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Stop being a brat,” he tells you angrily. 

“Did you just call me a brat?”

“Hotch?” Reid asks in the background, but he raises a hand to stop him. That doesn’t work, though, because the younger agent realized that he needs to intervene before things get out of hand. “We found messages at the crime scenes, and now that we know the real reason why those employees had been let go, it’s clear Hayes did this to protect you,” he explains.

This gets your attention and you finally look up from the screen to meet his eyes. “To protect me? How does killing them protect me?”

“He’s loyal to you, and he would go to great lengths to make sure you and your company are safe. To him, you’re like a family member he needs to protect,” he says.

Gulping, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “But he’s such a normal guy. Tough, sure, but murdering people?” you note with a desperate laugh. It’s insane, why can’t this madness happen to someone else?

“They often seem harmless,” he offers with a sympathetic smile. “Look, we need a list of the employees who were fired for corporate espionage or other major issues Hayes dealt with in the past.”

“Sure, I’ll ask my assistant to send you the list,” you assure them without hesitation.

But Hotch doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, because he moves around the desk to close your laptop, then helps you up from the chair. “You can make that call from the car. Let’s go,” he says as he lets his hand move to your elbow to lead you toward the door. 

“Wait, I can’t go, I have a deadline, and an interview, and—”

“Now,” he says sternly, leaving no room for an argument. 

For a moment there’s a staring contest between you two, but then out of the corner of your eye you notice Reid’s surprised expression. Maybe this isn’t the time for such an argument, so you put up your hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, just let me get my bag and laptop from my office,” you say as you yank your arm away and take the lead toward the elevator.

On the way out of the building, Reid starts a conversation with you about your work, but it’s hard to focus with Hotch’s hand on the small of your back as he leads you. He doesn’t look at you, and deep down you’re grateful for that. When you get into the car, you sit in the middle of the back seat so it’s easier to keep the chat with the younger agent going, because you’re happy to talk about your little projects with someone who truly appreciates the science behind your innovations. 

He’s intelligent, that one’s clear, and the more you learn about him, the more you feel like in another life you could be friends, and you would probably ask him to work for you too. While the conversation flows freely, you don’t miss the way Hotch looks at you through the rearview mirror every once in a while, so when there’s a little break in the discussion, you take the chance to change the topic a little. 

“Is he always this grumpy?” you ask Reid with a playful smile.

Before he can respond, Hotch rolls his eyes. “I’m not grumpy,” he states. 

“Then serious.”

He exhales slowly, making it clear he has to force himself to stay calm. “I’m chasing serial killers, more people would die if I took my job too lightly,” he explains. 

“So would a smile kill you?” you wonder, deliberately pushing his buttons.

“I think you should—” Reid begins his warning, but the other man is quick to interrupt him.

“No.”

You grab the back of his seat and lean forward to be closer. “Then why don’t you smile?” Hotch groans as he shakes his head, and you take the hint. So, once again, you change the topic as you lean back against the seat. “You know what? I’ll make a few calls and hire a security company to keep an eye on me in my own house, so I don’t need your protection. Also, you said Hayes—if he really is the killer, that is—was looking for employees we let go for certain reasons. As far as I know, I’m still the head of this company.”

Reid turns in his seat as he begins to talk. “Yes, but Hayes is getting impatient, angry, and based on the timeline you told us, it’s related to you ignoring his calls. He will get mad at you and try to punish you for that.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Why?” Hotch asks. 

“Does it really matter?”

“I’m going to ask this one last time—why?”

Your silence gives Reid an idea. “Were you in a romantic relationship with him?”

“God, no, no, it’s just,” you begin, stopping for a moment to think. “He has a family, he’s always so nice to everyone, why would he do that? It can’t be to protect me.”

“His way of thinking isn’t exactly rational anymore,” the younger man begins, flashing an understanding smile at you. “As for the security company, it would be best if you stayed close to us.”

With a sigh, you decide to drop it for now. In fact, you want to let go of the conversation altogether. So, instead of putting up another fight, you unlock your phone and dive into your emails, ignoring the men’s existence for the rest of the ride.

••••••••••

Once on their floor, Reid leads you to an empty office, saying you can use that for the time being. It’s way darker than the office or the lab that you’re used to, but you don’t have the luxury to be picky, there is a lot to do before you can call it a day. The interview was transformed into an online one, the journalist promised to call you a little later, the board meeting that was scheduled for the afternoon was postponed to the day after tomorrow, and you gave yourself a new deadline as the prototype wasn’t here with you.

Yet, despite the long to-do list, you don’t interrupt Reid when he continues your previous conversation about your work, and soon you’re joined by Garcia, who charms you in a matter of seconds. Prentiss and Morgan arrive as well, shortly introducing themselves before leaving to get back to work.

But then the little gathering is coming to a halt, because Hotch shows up just to tell you that you can’t stay here. Instead, he wants you to use his office, saying he’d rather have you somewhere he can keep an eye on you. Garcia and Reid both watch you with visible confusion, which tells you it must be quite unusual, even for them. But you don’t feel like arguing, so you follow the unit chief down the hallway.

As you’re sitting on the couch, you can’t help but glance over at him every now and then, watching as he tries to catch up with the paperwork while they wait. For what, though, is a mystery, no one tells you anything regarding the case. Being left in the dark is definitely not what you’re used to.

Two hours later he returns to the office, but instead of coming in, he simply leans against the doorframe, brown eyes watching you with surprising softness. “How about getting some coffee?” he asks.

Now that’s something you can’t say no to. “You have coffee?”

A short, dry laugh follows your question. “We do, it’s terrible, which is why I was thinking about going to a coffee shop nearby. Want to come with me?”

“I thought I had to stay here to be safe,” you point out. 

“It’s close and I have a gun,” he says with a barely visible smile. “So?”

“That would be great.”

He signals you to follow him, and, as if you were a trained puppy, you do exactly as he wants. While you pass the bullpen, you can’t help but notice the eyes of the members of his team, and you even hear the whispers behind your back. Do they suspect something? Did they notice that maybe you have met before this morning? Or what if Hotch told them himself? But no, if he did, he wouldn’t have acted like he didn’t know you. 

In the car, there’s a comfortable silence settling between you, and it’s hard not to think about the night you met him. The party was boring, the usual shallow event where people could network and show off, but when a woman you knew came over to you to say a mutual acquaintance was on the roof, planning to jump down after receiving a phone call, things took an interesting turn. 

Hotch was in the group you were both a part of in a conversation, and when he heard what happened, he offered to join you. It took a good half hour, but eventually he managed to convince the man to change his mind, and that’s when he told you about who he was. The rest of the night passed with a pleasant chat, learning a lot more about each other, and at the end he asked for your number, promising to call you soon.

Well, he never did.

But today, you’re willing to put that aside if he wants to act like you didn’t know each other. Instead of stirring drama, you inhale deeply and look out the window. “You know, it’s nice,” you note, breaking the silence.

“What’s nice?”

“Not being treated like I was some weirdo.”

For a moment, he turns his head to look at you. “That’s how people see you?” You let out a hum of confirmation. “Well, having Reid on the team helped us gain some experience in dealing with geniuses, I guess.”

“Look at that! A smile! You should smile more often,” you note teasingly, even biting on your lip before commenting on how much more handsome it makes him. 

He shakes his head without glancing over at you. “You’re not letting that smile thing go, are you?” he asks.

“Hmm… No, I don’t think so.” Silence falls between you, because there’s something you want to ask, something you’re not sure you should bring up. But then you take a deep breath and speak up again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“You’re nice to me,” you say, then turn to look at him. “Why?”

Hotch takes a deep breath before looking at you, and you can see a slightly confused expression on his face. “As far as I know, it’s not a crime to be nice.”

“That’s true, still.” His eyes turn back to the road ahead, and you can tell that this was all, he doesn’t want to talk more about this. “So, I guess he wasn’t at home,” you then say, changing the topic. You know Morgan and Prentiss went to Hayes’ home, but neither of them told you about the result.

“No, he wasn’t. But we will find him,” he assures you.

“Are you sure I’m in danger?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

He remains silent for a little too long, probably wondering how much he can tell you. “His wife left him about eight months ago and took their daughter with her. That could be a stressor. He focused on his job, where he once again found traitors, then he lost control.”

“That doesn’t explain why he would turn on me.”

“You’ve been ignoring him. You blocked his number. He’s getting angry, he kills more frequently. We found another body today, but this time it wasn’t a past or current employee. He will reach the point when he starts to blame you for his own actions.”

You look out the window on the side, watching the people on the street. “I don’t believe it,” you note, although this sentence is meant more to you than him.

“I thought you were smarter than this.” Your attention snaps back to him when he reaches out to touch your hand. “Take it seriously. Please.”

“Okay.” You look down at his hand, having a hard time deciding how the way his thumb massages your skin makes you feel. It certainly makes you think, and you don’t shy away from bringing it up. “We should probably talk about the elephant in the room,” you tell him.

But Hotch suddenly pulls his hand away and parks the car in front of a coffee shop. Even though he gets out, you stay behind, staring ahead as you think about this. Maybe you should tell them you’ll take care of your own protection, you won’t need their help any longer. It would be easier for everyone.

Eventually, you catch up, but after you both place your orders, there’s an argument about who’s gonna pay, although he shuts you down with a single look. So, you give up the fight and decide to remain silent until you arrange your trip to your holiday house in Aspen.

Then you take a seat in a booth, and he starts talking unexpectedly. “I thought we were having a fresh start, like we didn’t know each other at all,” he says, continuing the conversation that ended so abruptly in the car.

“You started that this morning when you introduced yourself like I was a complete stranger, I just played along,” you respond, although you’re having a hard time figuring him out. 

He lets out a sigh, his fingers drumming on the side of the cup as he watches you. “I didn’t know where we stood after that night.”

“You disappeared, Hotch. You asked for my number and never called. I thought I misunderstood what happened, so I decided to move on, but don’t think it didn’t hurt.”

“I wanted to call you, but then I had one case after another and realized I don’t have the time to maintain a relationship you would deserve.”

You can’t help but snort. “You could have told me that instead of ignoring me completely.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you can tell he’s being honest now.

It doesn’t make sense to you. He’s been sending you mixed signals since you met again in the morning, and deep down you want to clarify the situation before leaving. “Tell me this,” you begin as you lean closer over the table. “If you wanted to act like we didn’t know each other, why did you become so overprotective? Because that’s what you’ve been all day long; forcing me to come with you, keeping me in your office, and taking me out to get coffee.”

Hotch stops to think. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. I know it’s probably hard to believe, but that’s the truth. I like you, and every time I read an article about you, or watch one of your interviews, I think about what things could be like.”

“I wish you hadn’t disappeared on me back then.”

“We can fix that now,” he says softly as he reaches out to take your hand.

But you don’t like the idea of him touching you, so you pull your hand away as you look elsewhere. “I’m not sure if I want it now. Maybe it’s already too late.” You can hear him let out a long sigh, which makes you turn back to him. “Look, when we get back, I’ll call a friend of mine to send someone who will escort me to my holiday house in Colorado. I’ll take my jet, it will be safe.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Hotch,” you point out. 

“I know, but you can’t leave. We don’t know when we’ll need you to help us with something. So, no, you’re not leaving. In fact, you’ll stay in my apartment, because I can’t leave you in the office.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

He raises his eyebrows as he looks at you, as if you’ve just made a stupid joke. ��No.”

••••••••••

You decided to be a good girl and didn’t put up a fight when he told you it was time to leave the office at the end of the day. You didn’t argue when he ordered food for dinner. You weren’t hostile when he started a conversation. You played his game, just like he expected you to, as if you understood why he was so keen on keeping you close. 

You even offered him a chance to lure Hayes to the party your company was holding for the employees the next day. When he agreed to do it on the condition of him and his team attending too, you said good night, and went to sleep. But that didn’t last long, the moment you heard his bedroom door close, you sneaked out and returned to your office. 

But the next day he found you. You were sitting behind your desk, signing a couple of documents your assistant left behind for you, when you heard footsteps getting closer.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he yelled, walking around your desk to stand right in front of you.

Morgan raised his hands to calm him down. “Hotch,” he warned his boss, but it felt like he didn’t say a word.

Because he completely ignored the other man, instead he focused on you, his eyes burning a hole into you. “You disappear in the middle of the night without a word? No one knew where you went, he could have found you!”

“Hotch, calm down, she’s safe.”

“Morgan, stay out of this, please.”

“Am I arrested?” you ask, keeping your voice calm and quiet.

He looks back at you. “No, but—”

“Then I can go wherever I want,” you tell him. “I don’t need your permission. Hell, you don’t even have proof that he’s after me.”

“But he could be, which is more than enough.”

“Unless you want to arrest me, please, leave the building. If you don’t, I’ll ask security to escort you out,” you inform him, already reaching for your phone to make the call if needed.

Hotch’s eyes soften, and you can see his desperation. “Don’t do this,” he asks you.

Silence follows his words, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning this one. So, rolling your eyes, you close your laptop and stand up, already moving past him to reach the hallway. If they want to stay, then fine, let them stay, but you’ll sure as hell not stick around. He doesn’t try to stop you, neither does Morgan, although you can feel both men watching as you disappear on the hallway. 

You barely reach the first corner, though, when you find yourself face to face with Hayes, the very man they’ve been trying to protect you from. Fuck. But maybe you’re lucky, maybe he’s only here to pick something up from his office, maybe it’s a meeting, maybe it’s anything other than the need to hurt you. Flashing a friendly smile at him, you say, “John, I thought you were on leave.”

“There’s something I have to take care of,” he says, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. 

“Okay. I’ll spend most of the day in my lab, so if you need anything, you kn—” You don’t finish the sentence, because he suddenly pulls out a gun and points it at you. “John, put that away,” you try weakly.

Hayes closes the distance between you to grab your arm and yank you towards the stairs. “Come with me.”

“There are innocent people here, don’t do something you would regret later.”

“This has to be done,” he says, and you can hear the determination in his voice, mixed with a hint of insanity. 

Before you could get far, though, you’re both stopped by a familiar voice when Hotch's angry voice cuts through the air. “Hayes, let her go,” he instructs. 

The man steps behind you and pushes the barrel of the gun at your head. “No! Take one step closer and I’ll shoot her.”

“You only wanted to protect her and the company, didn’t you? Killing her would ruin your plan,” Morgan tries to reason, although you’re not quite sure he’s in the right state of mind to process that properly.

“She doesn’t appreciate what I do for her.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“No! She didn’t say thank you after I punished those people, she didn’t even answer my calls and messages.”

You gulp, feeling like this whole mess is your fault, that maybe if you talked to him, you would’ve found out what he did sooner. “John, please,” you beg him. 

“Shut up!”

Before anyone else could speak up, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye when the assistant of one of the deputy CEO’s steps out of the main meeting room, and she cries loudly when she notices the weapons. “What’s—Oh my god!” she says, her voice laced with panic. 

This averts Hayes’s attention, and he lets go of you just enough to give Morgan the chance to shoot him. You look down at the body on the floor, blood pooling around him as the agent comes closer to check his pulse. “He’s dead,” he announces, turning to his boss before looking back at you. 

You’re crying, you can’t stop yourself, and you’re only pulled out of your spiraling thoughts by Hotch’s worried voice as he moves closer and extends his arms. “Come here.” You don’t even think about it, you only follow your instincts and let him pull you into a tight hug. “He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re safe,” he whispers to you, then turns to his colleague. “Morgan, take care of this, I’ll take her back to her office.”

“Okay, you got it,” comes the answer. 

“I’m fine, you don’t need to come with me,” you note as you step away from him and wipe the tears away. “Would you like me to evacuate the building?”

“No, only close this floor.”

“Sure.”

Hotch grabs your shoulders and turns you back to face him. “Look at me.” When you do, he goes on, his voice soft and worried. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you mumble.

“You’re pushing me away, but you shouldn’t be alone now.”

You shrug. “Then Morgan could stay by my side until you are ready to let me go.”

“Hey, I think it would be better if you stayed with Hotch,” the agent says. 

“What did I do to you? Did I hurt you?” you ask him, sounding as serious as you manage in this situation. 

Morgan groans as he rolls his eyes at you. “Come on.”

“You’re childish, and stubborn, and getting on my nerves now,” Hotch states impatiently. “Let’s go, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“About Hayes holding you at gunpoint.”

“But you saw what happened.”

“Not the whole thing.”

Since there is nothing you can do considering you’re expected to work together with them, you follow him to your office, where you lean against the desk with your arms defensively folded over your chest. “You’re overreacting,” you inform him. 

Hotch scoffs, giving you a disapproving look. “You left my house and he almost murdered you. Since when does being worried about you count as overreacting?”

“And why are you worried? Who am I to you exactly?” you ask in an attempt to challenge him. 

He watches you for a short while, and you have absolutely no idea what’s going on inside his head. But then, out of nowhere, he places a hand on your neck and pulls you into a kiss. A soft one that’s full of emotions, something he’s been planning to do for a while now. “It’s up to you,” he says quietly, staying close to you. 

“That’s emotional blackmail,” you respond, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you were telling this to yourself. 

He lets out a short laugh, the big smile remaining in place. “Not quite.”

“Hotch, please, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” he says as he shakes his head. “Have dinner with me. Tonight, before I’m dragged away for work.”

“I can’t.”

You don’t miss the disappointed look on his face as he steps back. “Of course you can’t,” he notes bitterly.

Tilting your head to the side, you reach out for his hand. “Hey, the gala, remember? That’s tonight.” Finally, he remembers. “How about a deal? You join me as my plus one, and we can talk.”

“You’ll ignore me.”

“I won’t.”

“And if you do?”

A playful smile appears on your lips. “You don’t trust me?”

“I just want to make sure you keep your word,” he points out while he laces your fingers. 

“Ouch. I’ll behave.”

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead, then flashes a smile at you. “That’s all I ask of you.”

Before he could kiss you again, Morgan knocks on the door and watches the pair of you with a teasing grin on his face, but seeing the look his boss sends his way, he decides to leave this for now. Instead, he gives him an update. Despite the conversation happening in your presence, you can’t focus on their words. You’re busy studying Hotch’s face, getting lost in those eyes that caught your attention months ago. Maybe this time he’ll stick around and stop ignoring you.

Maybe this time it can work out. 

[reallyromealone]

Title: quirkless

Fandom: Tokyo revengers, bnha

Characters: mikey, power loader, reader

Fic type: reader insert, omegaverse

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, fluff, omegaverse, quirkless reader, Omega male reader, soulmate reader

Notes: this is a Patreon exclusive, all other chapters are on my patreon , I just thought this was a good way to advertise

Summary: on a rainy day, (name) decided to hide in an old shrine to get away from the rain but didn't expect to meet Mikey, a quirkless alpha

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The rain was heavy, (name) sighing while seeking cover inside the old shrine. The rain was clearly not going to let up and (name) couldn't let the documents in his bag get ruined... So he guessed he was hanging out here till it let up or his cousin could pick him up.

It was quiet in the shrine, deterioration over the years and he was frankly surprised it held up at all. ' might as well work on stuff while I'm waiting' he thought and pulled out his work, wanting to be helpful to his cousin and his projects "it would have to be... 'gari... You got this measurement off..." He mumbled and fixed his cousin's error without a care in the world, the iPhone his cousin bought him working as his calculator for this all.

He was thankful for his cousin taking him after everything, he was only in his 20s and took (name) in regardless.

It really meant a lot.

Especially with well... What (name) was.

A hero taking in a quirkless Omega?

Unheard of.

"You shouldn't be here" a voice called out and (name) snapped his head up to see a blond standing before him cold back eyes.

"I'm sorry?"

-

Mikey didn't know why he was compelled to show up to the old shrine, haven't been there since he was 16 and now at the age of 19 he still remembered every detail, parking his bike off and out of the rain and stepped up. Half way he turned around, a familiar vantage point and swore he heard the old Toman members call out before continuing up, those feelings pushed down and continued his climb to the shrine.

It was untouched by time, the graffiti Baji did still on the door and signatures they did on the wooden frame...

He traced Drakens carefully....

"'gari, I know you're smart but seriously what does this mean?! I don't speak your weird jot notes!"

Mikey was confused before walking in, footsteps silent and he couldn't help but stare at the Omega based off the collar, working away on some blueprints without a note of the world around him.

"You shouldn't be here" the words slipped out calmly and the Omega snapped his head up, clearly frustrated "I'm sorry?" The words coming out like a question, eyes locking.

Then he felt it.

And he could tell the Omega felt the same.

"You're not gonna want me" (name) said simply, trying to move this along... He always thought of this day, lifting a paper and trying to figure out the codes his cousin used "why would you assume I wouldn't?" Mikey asked pointedly and (name) snorted "quirkless male Omega... Not exactly the most wanted" (name) looked back at him.

"You're quirkless?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"So am I"

That made (name) halt "you are?"

"So why wouldn't I want you?"

(Name) Couldn't believe his ears, he didn't plan this one...

Mikey wasn't expecting to find himself chatting for hours with this mystery Omega who sat beside him and chatted with him like he was his oldest friend.

"So Mikey, are you even interested in pursuing this?" (Name) Asked genuinely, knees pulled up and head resting on his knee caps with a sweet smile that made Mikey's alpha swoon a bit.

"Do you want to?"

"I'm not sure, I never expected you to stick around... I always imagined my fated mate to be disappointed with the whole quirkless thing..."

"Same" Mikey never bothered since he was a child, focusing on toman and now Kanto... "Maybe take it slow?" (Name) Offered and Mikey huffed a laugh, something he hadn't done in years "take it slow? Sure" his life was fast and busy but for this stranger... He found himself willing to go slow for him.

When the rain inevitably lifted, (name) was happy "well, I better get going before my cousin thinks I'm dead or something" (name) offered his hand to Mikey to help him up, the Alpha taking his hand and the two directly before each other "you have an email?" (Name) Asked softly, the smell of burning wood and spices radiating off the alpha, making (name) feel hazy.

Mikey could smell the sweet scent of (scent) and already felt obsessed with every aspect of the Omega, not wanting him to leave already...

"Wanna meet here tomorrow? Same time?" (Name) Asked him looking at him with an expression that made Mikey want to kiss him,was this the cupids arrow he always heard about with soulmates?

"Yes."

[magicalmanhattanproject]

so. here's the thing about all the "information" we've been hearing about the qsmp restructing so far.

it's not. like. it's not really actually information. at least, it's nothing new. it's like. vague gestures in the direction of things that might be information.

antoine saying "i haven't heard any news" could mean that quackity has completely isolated himself from talking to anyone and isn't doing anything or it could mean that quackity has decided not to tell sensitive information to a guy who always says exactly what he's thinking immediately in public

bagi saying empanada is getting her life back could mean that the eggs are all in place with new contracts to come back actually paid or it could mean that another admin has gone rogue and is just making quick changes to appease the upset streamer

the fact of the matter is we don't have enough information to come to any conclusions. every new thing a person says referencing the restructuring is just another thing that does not make things clearer.

josé is definitely the guy who has the most potential to be interesting, but i have no idea why he's getting involved trying ot act as an intermediary between the workers and quackity after a union has already gotten involved and they're like. professionals at doing that. he keeps saying things that imply he might turn out to have information, but so far, he hasn't said anything that's actually information. he says he has a document, but he hasn't shown it to us yet

everything we know can be interpreted in a thousand different ways. maybe we haven't heard anything because the project is completely collapsing from the inside. maybe we haven't heard anything because anyone who could tell us anything is too busy doing the actual work of restructuring and renegotiating

here's my advice for everyone to keep from being driven to madness: stay your current course and wait for the restructuring to be finished

if you're staying away from qsmp because you lost trust in quackity, nothing has happened that should make you regain that trust

if you're sticking with qsmp because you still think it can be salvaged, nothing has happened that should make you lose faith

once the restructuring is finished and we can look at it and say "okay, this is definitely how they intend to handle things going forward" then we can judge if that way is good enough or not. but we're not there yet. just wait and see.

[aventurineswife]

This idea has been stuck in my head like a pinball so I'm just dumping it here-

Mr Reca x reader x Dr Ratio

I just think the dichotomy would be SO FUNNY. Like one is high strung and eccentric while the other is stoic and aloof. Like both of them pining for the same person would be amazing- idk I thought it would be cute.

The Director, The Scholar, and You

Summary: Caught between the fiery passion of Mr. Reca, a renowned but eccentric film director, and the stoic intellect of Dr. Ratio, a brilliant scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, you find yourself at the center of an unexpected love triangle. As the two men vie for your attention, their contrasting personalities create tension, hilarity, and surprisingly heartfelt moments. When the cosmos aligns their paths, you realize there might be room for both their chaotic creativity and calm logic in your life.

Tags: Mr. Reca x Reader x Dr. Ratio, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers (Rivals to Allies), Humor, Found Family Dynamics, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst.

Warnings: Mild emotional conflict (arguments between Reca and Ratio), Slight mentions of career-related disappointments, Themes of memory manipulation and dream exploration.

The cosmos was vast and unpredictable, and yet somehow, you found yourself at the center of an extraordinary dilemma.

Your time at Penacony Paperfold University College, where you worked as a guest curator of rare cinematic artifacts, had introduced you to two very different men. On one side was Mr. Reca, the infamous Memokeeper and film director whose intense creative energy could both inspire and terrify. On the other side was Dr. Ratio, a brilliant member of the Intelligentsia Guild whose stoic demeanor and sharp intellect could cut through any argument like a blade.

Both of them, inexplicably, were vying for your attention.

It began with Mr. Reca's sudden arrival at the university to conduct a masterclass on cinematic storytelling. His assistant—a mechanical frog with a camera lens for an eye—leaped onto your desk one morning, startling you.

"You!" Mr. Reca had declared, pointing at you dramatically. "You have presence. A raw, untamed aura of authenticity. I need you to assist me in my latest project."

Before you could decline, Dr. Ratio entered the scene, clipboard in hand. His hair shimmered under the fluorescent lights as his piercing eyes scanned the room.

"Mr. Reca," he said flatly, "your methodology is unorthodox, to say the least. You cannot simply commandeer the university’s staff for your whims."

"And you," Reca shot back, "are precisely the kind of soulless bureaucrat that stifles creativity. Let them decide."

Caught between the fiery passion of the director and the icy logic of the scholar, you couldn’t help but feel a strange pull toward both of them.

As the days passed, their rivalry only grew more intense. Mr. Reca insisted you accompany him on his location scouts, dragging you to surreal dreamscapes and haunting memory fragments, all while his mechanical frog documented every moment.

“Feel that?” Reca asked, his voice low as he gestured to a shimmering dream bubble suspended in the air. “That’s the kind of truth I want to capture. Unfiltered, raw. Like you.”

Meanwhile, Ratio countered with intellectual challenges, inviting you to observe his lectures and philosophical debates. He had a way of making even the most abstract concepts seem approachable, and his occasional smirks hinted at a softer side beneath his austere exterior.

"You are far more capable than Reca gives you credit for," Ratio remarked one evening, as you walked back from a lecture on the nature of perception. "You have the potential to contribute to something meaningful—beyond his... theatrics."

It came to a head one night, during a university gala. Mr. Reca had unveiled a short film he’d been working on, a medley of fragmented memories and dreamlike visuals. As the audience applauded, he turned to you, his eyes filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability.

“I made this for you,” he admitted. “To show you what I see in you.”

Ratio, standing nearby, let out a soft scoff. “Touching, but sentimentalism rarely withstands scrutiny. I believe our friend here deserves more than just flattery.”

He stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You are brilliant. And you deserve partners who recognize your mind as much as your spirit.”

The tension between the two was palpable, and you found yourself caught between their gazes. Both of them offered something unique: Reca’s passion and creativity, Ratio’s intellect and stability. And both of them, it seemed, had come to see you as their muse.

The night ended with the three of you standing under the stars, the gala behind you. Reca leaned against a railing, his normally fiery demeanor subdued.

“I’ll be honest,” he said. “I’m not used to losing. Especially not to a stiff like him.” He gestured vaguely toward Ratio, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“But,” Reca continued, “if I had to lose, I’d want it to be to someone you trust. Someone who makes you happy.”

Ratio crossed his arms, his tone softer than usual. “The decision is yours. Whatever you choose, I only ask that you stay true to yourself.”

Their words hung in the air, and for the first time, you realized you didn’t have to choose.

Weeks later, you found yourself at the center of an unlikely collaboration. Reca had begrudgingly accepted Ratio’s involvement in his latest project, and Ratio had agreed to lend his analytical expertise to Reca’s chaotic vision.

“It’s still nonsensical,” Ratio muttered, adjusting his notes as Reca’s mechanical frog leaped onto his shoulder.

“And you’re still a bore,” Reca replied, smirking. “But... maybe you’re not entirely useless.”

You laughed, watching as the two of them bickered. Somehow, amidst the chaos, you had found a way to bring balance to their dichotomy—and in doing so, discovered something extraordinary.

Perhaps you didn’t have to choose after all.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

There's definitely a conversation to be had about the presentation of real historical figures in historical fiction, I think. As both a professional historian (PhD student 🤘🏾😔) and a man of color, I'm a bit more sensitive to this than a lot of people, and for me it always comes down to the question - what real harm is being done here?

And that's where I think OFMD does well enough for me to be comfortable. If you look at the fact that the show is based on real-life terrible people who did awful things and participated in the slave trade and you don't wanna fuck with the show, that's completely understandable, but I find it so much more palatable than (for the easy comparison) a piece of media like Black Sails (I actually like Black Sails, believe it or not, but there are a lot of things about how it treats many of these same figures that make me uncomfortable).

Now, yes, OFMD is hand-wavey with the slave trade in the Caribbean. None of our main characters own slaves or directly reference the slave trade (again, this is a romcom, I'd be shocked if they did). For me, this works alright for two big reasons. First, there are things that I think you can include in a romcom and have it still be a romcom, and a thoughtful, respectful depiction of the slave trade would take the show firmly out of romcom territory. Second, the show doesn't pretend racism doesn't exist, it treats its characters of color as three-dimensional people, and we always get the last laugh when racism is depicted. The very first episode sets the scene by having racist English Navy officers demean and call a Black character "slave" and they immediately get their asses kicked for it. Compare this to a show like Black Sails, where one of my main criticisms is how we're expected to sympathize with characters who actively participate in the slave trade and own slaves.

My other thing here is the people OFMD is working with are both heavily mythologized and not treated with any degree of historical accuracy. Many of our characters who are famous pirate names you might know are nothing like their real-world counterparts (take pirate queen Zheng Yi Sao, who wasn't even born yet when the show takes place). We know so little about any of the real people, anyway, that OFMD doesn't even bother trying to get anything right.

Like I said, I'm a professional historian and I love working with the golden age of piracy. That's a big reason I was drawn to this show in the first place! And if there's one thing I know, it's that pirates have been made into legends. We know very little about the real people, and in pop culture they're just myths.

The characters in OFMD are basically fictional characters working with the loose mythology based around the real people.

Now, back to my big thesis here: are the real, awful people benefitting in any way from OFMD taking these characters and making them into the good guys? Realistically, no, I'd argue. Most people with any critical thinking skills know that real pirates were not good people. Many people think Blackbeard is a made-up generic pirate character as it is. I've been to the real-life Stede Bonnet's grave site (NOT for the show, this was years before it aired and I was visiting the archives there to see the trial documents for a research project), and the historic marker there says he was "brought to justice." No one is wataching this show and thinking "oh those real guys must have been pretty great dudes!" because it's not about those real people.

This show isn't trying to change your perception of the real people, it's showing you fictional characters with the same names. One of our characters is runnig around in crocs, this show isn't trying to teach you about history or the real people and it's obvious.

If you're put off by the premise, I get it! But I just don't buy the idea that OFMD is putting anything harmful into the world just by existing.

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Coriolanus Snow might be a heartless monster, but he'll always be yours. You'll always be his obsession. And that was one thing that Dr. Gaul underestimated her protege about: his obsession with you.

Masterlist here

Heartless Pt. 2

Coriolanus always thought that if he ever laid eyes on you again that he'd kill you. Wrap his hands around your neck, squeeze, and watch your life force drain out of you. He always thought that he'd look deep into your eyes until they glazed over with the death that he brought you.

But Coriolanus never thought that when he saw you again that he'd be keeping vigil at your bedside, watching your ashen form weak and in an endless sleep, while rocking your- his newborn son in his arms.

A son that he only found out about when your older brother called him up, frantic.

That call changed everything. It replayed in his mind on an endless loop as he stared at you, hopelessly willing you to open your eyes.

Coriolanus was sitting in his office in the lab. He finally got promoted from intern to assistant. Coriolanus was right underneath Dr.Gaul; he was proud of how quickly he was promoted.

7 months of hard work had paid off. He now had power, authorization to top secret projects and documents, and a large say so when it came to gamemaker duties. His work was very important to him; he had the steel spine that it took to make the hard decisions that some other game make s and interns turned green about.

Coriolanus Snow was rewarded because he was a heartless monster that did anything to get the result that he needed. That he wanted. He would do anything to see the games remain a success, even if that meant proposing some measures that would make the game a total spectucal.

Dr. Gaul approved of all of his ideas and suggestions. And the one that she pushed for, well he approved of and pressured the other low level gamemakers into approving it too.

It was genius, his mentor’s idea.

Having all children born on District Peacekeeper Bases be registered as a district citizen belong to the district of their birth instead of being granted automatic Capitol citizenship would ensure that their was a larger participation pool for the games; it also prevented too many officers from muddying their Capitol blood with that of district scum.

Coriolanus was looking over a chart for a mutt experiment whenever his private office phone started to ring.

Ring, ring ring…Ring, ring, ring…Ring, ring, ring…

Oh no, was Grandma'am’s memory worsening? Was she giving Ma Plinth a hard time? God, he hopes not.

Ring, ring, ring…

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a deep sigh before picking up the phone. “Assistant Gamemaker, Coriolanus Snow. Whom may I be speaking with?”

“Snow, it’s Officer Rein Halvir, Y/N’s older brother. I'm calling because I need you to get to the base in District 12 right away. Y/N’s been in labor for nearly 36 hours, the doctor won't do a cesarean because Dr. Gaul put into effect a new policy that surgical resources can only be used for peacekeepers and not any civilians living on base, and it's not looking good, Coriolanus.”

“What?...” Was all Coriolanus could say. He was stunned. You could possibly be dying in childbirth? With a child he didn't know about? And on a district base.

On a district base.

Oh no! Not that!

“She was afraid to tell you, Snow. You had her terrified with the stalking: nonstop roses and jewelry. Our mother sent her to stay with me. Once it was announced that children born on district bases would be district citizens and eligible for the games, I tried to get her to go back to the Capitol, but mother refused to let her come back. I even told Y/N to call you; try to work things out with you, but she refused. Said that you never loved her; wouldn't care what happened to her or the baby.”

“I’ll talk to Dr. Gaul about approving a cesarean for Y/N right away.” Coriolanus told Rein as his dead heart started to bleed.

“Thank you, Snow.” Rein replied, a hint of gratefulness in his normally stern tone. “Will you be coming to the base? To see-” your brother began to ask, only for your ex to cut him off with, “I’ll be there, but only because I don't want my child raised in such a filthy, mud hole of a district as 12.”

Coriolanus didn't say another word. Just hung up his phone.

Machines beeped, monitoring you as you slept. Coriolanus felt that you looked dead, not asleep. He was so angry. You weren't supposed to be unconscious in your bed. You were supposed to be up, sitting in bed, holding your baby. You were supposed to scream and cry at him when he walked into your room. You weren't supposed to be just lying there, hanging in-between life and death.

Not when he had faxed the paperwork with Dr. Gaul's signature for the approval of your emergency cesarean.

You were supposed to be okay. You and the baby both. Not just the baby.

As Coriolanus watched you, waiting for a sign of life, he got lost in the recent memory of when he first saw you again.

When Coriolanus got off the train at the District 12 depot, he thought your brother would be there to greet him, but he was wrong. Instead, he had to make his own way to the District 12 base. Thank God he knew where it was, from his short stint as a peacekeeper, otherwise he'd be lost.

The walk to the base was long and grueling. He’d forgotten how far off the base was from the train depot. From the main part of the district itself.

Once he reached the on base hospital, he inquired about your whereabouts and was told where to find you. When he walked into your room, he was expecting you to be tired, but conscious. He even thought you'd be holding or nursing the baby.

Coriolanus never thought he'd walk into your room only to see you hooked up to a machine with your brother’s girlfriend (some district trash he picked up at the hob) by your side. A baby bassinet between your bed and her chair.

She introduced herself as Ashlie (didn't give a surname, not like he cared) and gestured to the bassinet, only to tell him, “That's your son, Cassian Xandros.”

Cassian Xandros.

A name befitting a Snow heir.

“You may go now. I'll watch over her.” Coriolanus told the skinny girl, who looked to be from the Seam. He didn't even bother to introduce himself. He just wanted her to go so he could- hell he didn't know, he guessed sit by your bedside until you woke up, but he didn't want some district whore watching him as he sat by your bedside with your son.

His son.

Cassian Xandros.

Ashlie nodded, a pitiful look in her eyes. She felt bad for both you and Coriolanus, but was too afraid to voice her opinion. The Seam girl just scurried out of the room, leaving Coriolanus alone with you and your son.

She didn't know much about what happened between the two of you, just what Rein told her. And your brother didn't share much since he only knew the handful of facts that you shared with him.

What both Rein and Ashlie knew for certain was that your son with his pure Capitol blood and fine Snow linage was doomed for a chance to fight for his life in the infamous death battle royale known as the Hunger Games all because he was born on Peacekeeper Base-12.

Her heart broke for you, Coriolanus, and your son because no matter if you lived or died, well the platinum blonde father would never be able to bring his son home to the Capitol with him. District born citizens of Panem were forbidden to travel outside of their district of birth unless it was to be delivered to the Capitol as a tribute for the annual Hunger Games. Due to the new rules and laws put into place regarding children born on bases being registered at birth as a citizen of the district of the base, your son was forbidden to leave District 12.

If you die, well, Coriolanus will have to give Cassian Xandros up to Rein (and Ashlie) to raise. That subject’s the reason why your brother’s avoiding Snow.

Once your brother's girlfriend had left, Coriolanus sat down in the chair she had once been occupying. He sadly sighed as he took in your condition.

When his eyes landed on his son, he felt pride well up in his chest. The boy, Cassian Xandros, had his natural platinum blonde hair.

He looked just like him.

Was his little mini me.

He gently picked up his baby boy and cradled him to his chest. When Cassian began to stir Coriolanus rocked him. “Don't worry, son, I got rid of the evil lady that tried to take you and your mother away from me.”

Cassian blinked his eyes open, revealing them to be blue. Coriolanus smiled at his son, seeing that he had striking blue eyes, and told his son, “You're mine and your mother's mine. Nobody ever takes what's mine and gets away with it.”

The baby just blinked at his father, not understanding anything he was saying since, after all, he was just a newborn, and then scrunched his nose. He then closed his eyes and went to sleep in his father's arms.

His father's murderous, monstrous arms.

When your eyes fluttered open, Coriolanus felt a sense of relief he didn't know possible. After not knowing if you'd ever wake up, seeing your beautiful eyes again was like heaven.

And to think that he had once vowed to kill you if he ever crossed your path again. But that was when he thought you gave up on him.

No, things changed when he realized that you were trying to protect the Snow heir because you felt unsafe after that package you recieved.

That damn package Dr. Gaul, his mentor, had sent you. A tape with a letter persuading you that he was incapable of loving you.

A letter he didn't know about until Dr. Gaul let it slip when he approached her about signing off on your emergency cesarean forms.

Too bad she let it slip…Well, too bad for her since it ended her career. And ended her too, by the hands of her most prized prodigy.

The memory makes Coriolanus smile as it washed over him like a warm waterfall.

Coriolanus strode into Dr. Gaul's private lab, where she had her latest deadly mutt experiment in a terrarium, with one mission in mind. To get Dr. Gaul's approval for your cesarean.

He might hate you for leaving, but he didn't want you to die in childbirth with his baby. He didn't want you and your child to succumb to the same fate as his mother and baby sister.

Not when he could help it.

He was a child when his mother and baby sister died during child birth in the Dark Days, he was helpless when it came to their fate.

But now Coriolanus was a man, a very successful one that had cunning, wits, and charm to carry him far. He had an endless supply of money too. He was no longer helpless when it came to the fate of his- well his heir and it's mother during a deadly childbirth.

Coriolanus now has the means to beat fate when it came to death in the birthing bed; he was going to make sure that you and his heir did not share the same fate his mother and baby sister all those years ago during the war.

“Dr. Gaul, I need you to sign off on an emergency cesarean for Miss Y/N Halvir. She's at the military hospital ob Peacekeeper Base-12.”

“Hippity, hoppity, looks like Snow's melting for a baby boppity.” Dr. Gaul sing-songed in a mocking cackle as she watched the mutts moving around in their tank.

They looked agitated, starved even, as their colorful bodies slithered around, sharp claws scratching their glass enclosure, and sharp teeth gnashing and snapping.

The mad scientist was teasing them by holding a bucket full of food, pulling a rodent from it and dangling it by the glass terrarium. She was teasing them, gauging their reaction to her lunchtime torture.

She had snatched away her most successful experiment’s most desperately wanted meal before he could eat; Dr. Gaul had even spoon fed him a meal that was just as good, but not what he wanted. It was what he needed, what she needed him to have to be the monstrous creature she wanted by her side to do her bidding.

She enjoyed teasing and taunting her experiments.

The only creatures of hers that she actually fed were her eels. But…they were more like beloved, dangerous, pets then mutts at this point since Dr. Gaul's had them for so many years.

Dr. Gaul placed the squirming mouse back into the bucket, turning away from the glass tank to look at Coriolanus. “No.” She simply said before walking across the lab to shelf the bucket of rodents.

She'd have an assistant feed the baby anthropomorphic reptiles in the terrarium later, after she shooed away her favorite creation, Mr. Snow, and had her milk and crackers.

“No?” Coriolanus parroted, his tone full of disbelief.

How dare she tell him no? He wasn't asking her to authorize a procedure on anyone, but the mother of his child.

“But, Dr. Gaul, without the procedure Y/N and the baby might die.”

“If they die then they die, Coriolanus.” The mad scientist shrugged nonchalantly. “Death is a natural part of life. If someone weaker or lesser than is removed from the cycle of life then it just proves that their contribution to the ecosystem would not have mattered. Death is the natural way of purging those creatures that are useless in the world.”

Coriolanus could not believe what he was hearing. His mentor was giving him a lecture on why he needed to let the mother of his child and his heir die.

Was he supposed to agree with her?

Well, he couldn't do that.

He didn't want his heir to die.

And you…well…he wanted to be the one that killed you. For leaving him, of course.

“I'm not talking about weak helpless creatures, I'm talking about-” Coriolanus began to say, only for the mad scientist to cut him off with a scoff.

“The little girl that left you over a few words of warning penned in a letter and your damning tape of your best friend Sejanus’ rebel plot. Her bastard offspring that’ll be as weak hearted as its mother. That's who you're talking about, Mr. Snow.” Dr. Gaul told, not asked, Coriolanus as she crossed her lab. Going over to where she had a small table with crackers and milk set up for her snack.

A letter? What letter? He knew about the tape, but not a letter. You never told him about the letter.

“Might as well be weak helpless creatures, considering their dire circumstances and the lowly district they're in.” The mad woman added in as a slight after thought.

“I never told you she received a letter.” Coriolanus, who had figured out what Dr. Gaul has done, told the scientist while following her. His floor shines clicked heavily against the linoleum floor as he told her, “The only way you'd know would be if you sent it.”

Taking a seat at her small snack table, the scientist with wild, frizzy hair, giggled, “Oh, yes, you see, it was indeed me that sent the weak little girl that care package.” Reaching for her napkin and snapping it open, she evilly grinned, “Miss Y/N Halvir and the bastard she carries would only have held you back.” Setting her napkin on her lap, she explained, “The feelings they would have invoked in you would only make you weak.” Giving her protege a proud smile, she giddily announced, “I only made you stronger by removing an element not needed in your life at the moment.” Reaching for a cracker that was on a plate, Dr. Gaul failed to see the rage in Coriolanus' blue eyes. Perhaps if she did, she wouldn't have said, “You should be thanking me, for making you stronger and more powerful then you could have been months ago with the weakness of that stupid girl and the vile creature she's incubating.”

Hearing Dr. Gaul calling you stupid and calling his child a vile creature was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Coriolanus was barely hanging onto his sanity when he realized that Dr. Gaul made you leave him, made you want to protect his child from any dangers (including him) because of a letter and a tape she sent you. But the moment she insulted you, the woman that has consumed his thoughts and has been his obsession since his freshman year in the Academy, and his child in a way that made you seem inhuman, well, he snapped.

He was blinded with rage as he pounced on the mad scientist, catching her off guard and causing her to fall backwards; off her chair.

Coriolanus kneeled over her while wrapping his hands around her throat.

“Y/N was mine, you knew she was mine, and you took her from me! You took her and our child from me when you knew all I wanted was a life with her!” Coriolanus wildly exclaimed as he choked the life out of Dr. Gaul.

“Everything I've ever done was all for her! I needed to win the Plinth prize for her, for our life together, and I had to find a way out of the Peacekeepers, out of 12, for her! You knew that and still, you made her think she meant nothing to me; made her view me as a monster and leave me!” The platinum blonde ranted as his long fingers pressed so hard into the dark skinned woman’s neck that the bones began to crack.

Dr. Gaul gasped for air as her lungs felt like they were going to explode. Her eyes were wide and frenzied with the horrific realization that her favorite mutt, the monster she molded and shaped, had turned on her all because somewhere deep down inside of his black, dead heart, he still had a space reserved for his childhood sweetheart.

The blood vessels in Dr. Gaul's eyes burst due to the pressure Coriolanus was applying to her airway. He smirked wickedly as he watched the life drain from her.

“Snow lands on top.” Was the last thing Dr. Gaul heard before she died and went straight to hell.

Coriolanus, upon seeing that the evil scientist was dead, quickly tossed her into the pool of eels to cover up the crime.

Then he forged her signature on the documents needed for your cesarean; faxed them to the hospital on the base in District 12. He also made a quick note in her desk planner stating that he had to take an emergency family leave due to the birth of his first child. It was the perfect alibi to cover his tracks. Nobody would question his whereabouts if they thought Dr. Gaul herself authorized your emergency cesarean, authorized his family leave as well.

You were weak as you took in the bright artificial lights of your hospital room. When you tried to sit up, you were gently stopped by a large hand you hadn't seen in months. “You need to rest, darling. You're still weak.” A baritone you never thought you'd ever hear again told you.

Looking towards the voice, you saw Coriolanus sitting by your bedside with your baby in his arms. Your heart stopped beating and all you could say was, “My baby.”

You didn't know if you were afraid that your ex was holding your son or overwhelmed with a sick sense of joy, but all you knew was that you wanted your baby.

“Our baby, Y/N.” Coriolanus corrected you before standing and placing the newborn into your awaiting arms.

As you held your son to your chest, you shuddered and began crying. The last thing you remember was passing out and when you woke up…well…you had no idea what happened to the baby.

“Did my brother call you?” You asked, realizing that's the only way Coriolanus would know where to find you. Honestly, you were shocked he even came when Rein called.

“Yes.” The platinum blonde nodded. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he wrapped an arm around your back and promised, “As soon as your cleared to leave, I'm bringing you and Cassian Xandros home with me, to the Capitol.”

Looking between your son, nestled soundly in your arms, and his father, you sadly sighed, “Cassian's district, Coriolanus. He was born on base; he won't be allowed on the train.”

“Don't worry about that, my darling rose. I promise, our son will be allowed to return to the Capitol with us.”

You doubted your ex’s words, but nodded anyways.

Little did you know that Coriolanus threatened to kill the nurse’s family who gave him the registration papers for your son if he was marked down as anything, but born in Capitol General.

Like hell was his son, his heir, going to be district. His son wasn't going to grow up in a filthy mud hole. And he sure as hell wasn't going to be fighting for his life in the games.

Coriolanus kills so that his son, Cassian, doesn't have to.

So, folded up neatly in his pocket was a birth certificate that falsely states that Cassian Xandros Snow was born at Capitol General, in Capitol City, Panem.

Even tho Coriolanus Snow was a heartless monster, he was yours. He’s always been obsessed with you and now that you share a child with him, well, even the devil couldn't keep you and your son from him.

After all, he did send the wicked witch of the Citadel to hell for you and his son.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons , @qoopeeya , @mfnqueen1

[exaflux]

BTAS pre-production stuff/official designs and artstyle stuff

Don't mind the title, I'm a bit naff at titling things...

I'm sure people have made posts about it before, but just in case there's anyone that doesn't know, there's official documents on BTAS floating around the net. Things covering episode writing, bios, a bunch of art that animators would have used. Whole lot of stuff.

I've seen people ask questions/have discussion on things like imitating the style/character heights/other general things. These documents are all official and might be helpful so, hey, might as well share for those not in the know.

Gonna keep it short (I'll provide some links so you can check out for yourself as there's a lot I won't cover) but I'll outline some stuff that catches my eye (first bit is about pre-production and ideas they had, second bit is stuff about how they went about drawing/designing the characters)

Pre-production

In animation, it's standard to have a thing called a writer's bible, also called an animation bible. They include everything from plot synopsis, character/concept art, character bios, episode ideas, basically the whole nine yards. These are used mainly in the early stages to pitch ideas and get projects greenlit, but are also kept around as a handy shortform thing to summarise the whole project as much as possible.

As it turns out, the BTAS writer's bible has been extensively documented! There's a PDF of it actually! And if you don't want a PDF, there's a website that covers all the contents too.

As per writer's bibles, it has a ton of their ideas and direction they wanted to take with the show, from episode structure to joke writing right down to how much settings should be able to change per-episode. There's a whole lot of art too! Here's a snippet about some of the changes they wanted to make with the Dark Knight himself:

And just for fun let's also leave some info about how they approached writing Bruce Wayne:

Anyway! On a more interesting topic- some of the rogues. The bios of most of the rogues are included, as are some art of earlier designs. Riddler looks like a sleezy car salesman and Joker is kinda just missing his lips and has stripy pants is seems.

Also of note: in some alternative timeline somewhere we could have had Calendar Man and Gentleman Ghost in BTAS...

As for character heights... The height chart is sectioned into "head" height for Batman's head. The uppermost line is Batman's height, so Batman is 8 Batman heads tall. While it can be hard to make out some of the character heights due to the poses, it'd be safe to guess that you do take poses into account on the height chart. Two-Face is shorter on the chart than Harvey is for example but you'll notice that Two-Face's art shows his head tilted down slightly, so Two-Face isn't actually shorter it's just his pose.

You'll notice these characters are uncoloured. The colour palettes featured are an interesting point that deserve their own post. I'll touch on them another time.

Style Guides / Character Sheets

Style guides tell animators how to correctly draw characters. Can also be applied for things like backgrounds and props and the likes though, whatever feels needed to be noted to keep consistency even if other people are drawing the characters.

Character sheets are character sheets. 'Nuff said. These just show off a character looks from different angles. Expression sheets showing how character emote, art on full-body posing and sheets on hand poses are things that also tend to be covered in animated productions.

Can be found here and here. A lot of overlap in the art shown between the two links but they're absolutely full of character sheets and turn-arounds. There's definitely a lot more design documents I've seen about in other places, but alas, I can't track them down for the life of me.

Here's some highlights:

(When Twoface blinks only his good eye closes completely. His injured eye only partially closes)

("John Crane")

Some early character art:

~~~

If you made it this far then congrats here's some Batmen for your troubles

[dbh-bb]

Hi, DBH Fandom, and welcome to the 2025 Round of the Detroit: Become Human Big Bang!

Today we’re announcing the 2025 round, its exciting co-round Die Hard challenge, some new folks to drag, and a partially-new set of rules that we hope will help clarify, encourage, and enthuse participants for this round.

What’s Going On in 2025?

We aren’t just running another round of the Big Bang. We’re introducing an extreme option: A Mega Bang we’re calling RK50K, where writers can team up to write 50,000 words with artists who want to make three or more artworks for the same concept. We had a bunch of overachievers last round, and we’re excited to see what we get in 2025!

That being said, for those of us who are less prolific, limited by schedule, or not infected by cordyceps, the Standard Bang remains open with the same requirements as always: 10,000 words, and one quality art.

Participants this year can sign up for three teams total: two fic and one art, or one fic and two art. There are details about picking up extra projects in the rules!

We are introducing the Bang Rules Etc. early this year because of some changes we’re implementing regarding previous rounds of the Bang Event and ongoing, unfinished works. Sign-ups don’t hit until March, but you can absolutely start writing now. 

Please take the time to read the rules document. Every year we have dozens of people asking questions we’ve already taken hours to clarify. We implore you. [Mr. Wolf voice] Pretty please. With a cherry on top. Read the rules. 

We would like to welcome our team of Mediators and Advisors!

Mediators are a second moderation tier that will help guide the Discord, step in when things are getting tense if mods aren’t around, and - since we’ve managed to adopt some artists - help shape the Bang’s direction as we evolve. Please enjoy a limited introduction to your new Mediators from Sev’s basement, where we’re keeping them trapped by murder dogs:

@aye-toast (Mediator), who was bullied into this 

@moonlitmilo (Mediator), who had a choice

@connor-sent-by-cyberlife (Advisor), who will be helping us out with a couple things once the round gets rolling!

We may be looking for additional assistance with a couple little things throughout the Bang, so if it’s something you’d like to get involved in, watch this space!

The Discord is, as ever, open to anyone to join. Feel free to come and bug the new guys with questions.

The Rules, Schedule, Guidelines, and FAQ are now listed in an evergreen Google Doc here:

Girl That’s So Long

There actually isn’t a lot of new stuff! Most of the information here has been collated from the #bang-info channel in the Discord, and just put into one place where it’s searchable and more easily accessible by participants. And prettier!

The new parts - rules on check-ins, extensions, and drop-outs - were driven by the results of last year’s posting period, which (you might remember) was incredibly challenging, difficult, and time-consuming for the mods, as well as the exit poll. We did not want to need these rules, but based on last year, they’re necessary. They may evolve for future rounds, but that’s what we’re going with for now.

You don’t have to read it all now. You will be held to all rules upon sign-up, whether you’ve read them or not, but there are a lot of days until sign-ups.

The FAQ (last section in the doc) will continue to grow as we get questions.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Study Buddy 2

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

You breeze through the book to your own surprise. Between your other classes and your part-time gig down at the shop, you make quick work of it. You sit to transcribe the notes you made by hand into the doc as your phone buzzes.

‘Should start writing. I can meet tomorrow.’

The message is as blunt as anything else he’s said to you. Your brief first meeting with Walter still sticks in your head. You look back to the document and see another cursor in the doc. Your words are backspaced and reworded before you. You sigh. It’s going to be one of those projects.

‘Sure. I work til 2. Library?’

You put your phone down again and ignore the edits as you continue to input your notes. You don’t know why you’re doing any of it. He seems intent on doing it all himself.

Buzz. You flip your cell and cup your chin as you read the screen. ‘Can’t make it there. Daughter’s sick. Meet me here.’

Here? As in his home? That’s a lot.

You don't get it. He suggested tomorrow then just as quickly pulls the rug out. It's like every answer you have is wrong.

‘Don't work day after.’

‘Tomorrow after 2 is fine. I'll send address.’

That's it. Even via text, you hear his unbending tone. How can you argue with that punctuation?

You just type OK and leave it be. Maybe you'll get murdered. It would at least be the end of your problems. Of all the group work you’ve ever done, he’s the least compromising person you’ve ever encountered. Usually you’d be happy to let someone else take the lead but something about his demeanour just comes off condescending.

Or maybe that’s your insecurity talking.

You continue your notes in the doc. You notice the other cursor, highlighted green, moving around the page. You try to ignore the changes in real-time being made to your own thoughts. This isn’t going to be easy. At least you’ll be able to say you earned your grade.

💻

It seems a bit reckless to be walking up to stranger’s house. In fact, after reading a thriller about murder, it rings in your head as a very unwise decision. That being said, you have to get this assignment done. It might not be worth your life but what choice do you have?

You compare the house number with the address in your phone. That’s the one. One-half of a faded old duplex. You stride up the narrow walk beside the bushes and climb up the concrete steps. You knock and wait.

You’re exhausted already. You don’t know if you’re ready for this. Work was no fun. It never is. Sorting packages is no glorious deed but it pays.

You wait and go to knock again. The door opens before your knuckles can meet the wood and you nearly rap against the chest of the man behind it. You give a sheepish cringe and rescind your hand.

“Uh, hi,” you utter awkwardly.

“Mm, hey,” Walter responds, “come on.”

He checks his watch as he backs up. It’s almost three. The buses were clogged down in the city’s core and you missed your connection to his neighbourhood. He probably wouldn’t care that you walked two blocks just to make up for the change in commute.

You step inside as he stands against the door. It’s a tight squeeze. You can smell the woodsy hint of his cologne as you brush by him. You stay on the mat and lift your foot to untie your boot with one hand. You waver as he sidles by you and switch feet. You leave the worn treads by the door.

He looks to his left and you see the hooks mounted on the wall, jackets already hung there. You take the hint and put yours with them. You swipe your bag back up and follow him down the entryway and through the second door on your left.

The kitchen is lit with an amber hue, the glass shade of the ceiling light lending a soft tint to the space. He points you to the round table across from the apron of the counter and you claim a chair quietly. You peer around curiously as he marches to the counter.

He doesn’t say a word as he fills a navy blue mug. You bop your foot under the table. You feel like you’re disturbing him but this was his idea.

“Coffee?” He asks. At least he’s kind enough to ask.

“Um, no, thanks,” you wilt out, “I’m all good.”

You reach to your bag to distract yourself. You open up your laptop as you put it on the table. He sits heavily to your right, his cup clunking down onto the wood. He drags over the notebook with loose leaves tucked between the pages.

“You mind typing?” He asks, “I’m no good with the small keys.”

“Sure, uh, let me just open up the notes...” you swirl your fingers around the touchpad as he exhales. Each breath sounds exasperated.

“You’re not one of those,” he wonders, “no coffee? What, you don’t like caffeine?”

“Um, well, I have one coffee in the morning but I don’t drink it after noon or my head hurts.”

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “too bad.”

He lifts his cup and gulps again, elbows on the table as he hovers the mug between his hands. He seems like that type. No sleep, only coffee. It might explain his general demeanour.

“So, I’ll just make a second doc where we can put our draft,” you explain to another one of his rocky grumbles.

You hear something hoarser from down the hall. Coughing followed by horrid hacking. Then a moan as a door opens.

“Dad,” the thin voice wafts down ahead of the girl. She’s maybe fifteen, a blanket around her shoulders, as her reddened nose offers the only colour in her drawn face, “I need more cough syrup.”

“Faye,” he stands, his cup hitting the table just as harshly as before. “Go back to bed.”

“My head hurts,” she whimpers.

He stalks over to meet her by the fridge, “I know, sweetheart,” his softened tone surprises you, “go lay down and I’ll bring you some tea.” He opens the fridge and takes out a dark brown bottle, “here.” He hands her the syrup and she sniffles. He pats her arm gently, “don’t get me sick, kid.”

Her glazes eyes flit towards you as you sit with your hands over the keyboard. You look away meekly, caught.

“Who’s that, dad?” She asks.

“Schoolwork,” he gives the terse answer, “group project.”

“Oh,” she lets out the single syllable before she devolves back into a coughing fit.

“Lay down,” he demands.

As she retreats, he turns back and crosses to the counter. He flicks on the kettle and faces you, glaring over at you.

“Just a minute,” he says.

“Take your time,” you return gently, “she’s in rough shape.”

“Mm,” he rumbles, “I’m sure she doesn’t mind the time off school.”

[dawnfelagund]

Back in 2019, I wrote a blog post called The Inequality Prototype. As part of it, I counted a bunch of stuff related to the Valar and looked at how those metrics differed based on gender. At the time, I thought it would be interesting to extend this work over the entire Silmarillion, namely looking at who speaks in the text and who doesn't. For Tolkien Meta Week, I began this work and am collecting my analyses related to it here. It is very much still a work in progress and will likely take me years to complete, but I'm going to post interesting data as I discover it.

This project, like all of my data projects, is available to use under a CC license for others who want to play with the data: View the data | Copy the data | Methodology, progress, etc.

---

Dialogue does not occur evenly across The Silmarillion. While a little over 5% of the words in The Silmarillion as a whole are used in dialogue, this is very unevenly distributed across the chapters, with some chapters about half dialogue and six chapters containing no dialogue at all.

There is a lot more work to be done to tease out trends and patterns that might have some meaning, but just glancing at the graph above, some of those patterns do begin to emerge. First, dialogue increases as The Silmarillion progresses. In the second half of the book (calculated by chapter, not page or word count), only two chapters have no dialogue and only four chapters (inclusive of those two without dialogue) fall below the median of 5.3% dialogue. Put another way:

In the first half of chapters, 71% of chapters are below the median.

In the second half of chapters, 29% of chapters are below the median.

Why is this? My tentative theory is that we see the book moving from the realm of the mythic—from events that are passed down through the oral tradition and ancient written traditions—and into the historical, where the narrator has a greater array of sources, including eyewitness testimony, and begins to write with greater immediacy rather than the arm's-length style of myth and ancient history.

What I am curious about: As I dig deeper into these data, will I see this theory bear out in which episodes or characters/groups are granted actual dialogue? In other words, will characters and peoples lost to the mists of time speak less, as I would expect? Or will the type of dialogue (e.g., a formal speech that may have been preserved vs. an extempore conversation that would not) vary based on narrative distance? I have documented in the past that the narrator of The Silmarillion uses the "it is said/told/sung" construction more with characters who are less accessible, so there is evidence that Tolkien manipulated writing style based on what his narrators' access to various sources. Does he use dialogue similarly to communicate that "mythic distance"?

There are also chapters that are more expository in purpose (Valaquenta, "Of Beleriand and Its Realms") that do not contain dialogue. Without digging deeper into the chapters themselves, most of those without dialogue that aren't similarly expository are chapters where the material would be less accessible to Pengolodh as a narrator. Whether this bears added scrutiny remains to be seen!

Finally, in discussing these data on the SWG's Discord, polutropos noticed something interesting, which is that the chapter with the most dialogue—"Of Aulë and Yavanna," where almost 57% of the words of the chapter are given over to dialogue—was not in fact written by Tolkien. As document by Douglas Charles Kane in his book Arda Reconstructed, "This chapter is completely manufactured by Christopher, though using his father's own writings" (page 54). Where Kane usually includes a chart pointing to the source for each bit of The Silmarillion, his chapter on "Of Aulë and Yavanna" contains no such chart because, while he is able to document where ideas came from, Christopher actually wrote the chapter.

Interestingly, "Of the Noldor in Beleriand" is the chapter with the second most dialogue and, according to Kane, "The changes made in this chapter are among the smallest anywhere in the published text" (page 154). So Tolkien does sometimes write dialogue-heavy chapters—though without data to back me up (yet! it's coming!), most of that dialogue appears to come in the form of lengthier speeches, not necessarily the debate/conversation format of Of Aulë and Yavanna."

The biggest impact of the dialogue-heavy "Of Aulë and Yavanna," I suspect, will emerge as I dig more into the data on gender and who speak in The Silmarillion. Yavanna is one of the women who speaks the most in The Silmarillion, but almost all of her dialogue occurs in this chapter. If this chapter is constructed by Christopher, how does that impact the amount of speech women are permitted by Tolkien? Polutropos' observation spurred me to plan to document the source of the various dialogue sections: Are they original to Tolkien's writings or added? Kane, interestingly, is critical of Christopher Tolkien in Arda Reconstructed for what he perceives as Christopher removing women characters from the text. In this instance, we see a significant example of the opposite: a woman's role is not only expanded, but she is given an opportunity to speak.

[storm-angel989]

AWWW I just read your Val & Vox with a little girl and its so so cute!! Can I maybe request a one shot of Vox as a girl's dad too? Like his daughter in life getting to hell in her late teens, and now Vox has to deal with the change in taking care of her because he only knew how to take care of her as a child before he died. Thank youu 💖💙

This request. Could have gone in SO MANY FUN WAYS! Let me know your feedback and thoughts! Enjoy- I can do a part two if you like it!!

I downed my tenth cup of coffee and adjusted myself in my chair. My head pounded and I hoped that just a few more drops of the life-giving liquid would keep the exhaustion at bay long enough to get this project done. I hit the call button on the intercom in my office.

“Charles! Another cup!” 

Ten seconds. Enough of a break. I turned my attention back to the document on my computer. 

My assistant brought in another cup right away. “Ms. Reader, don’t you think you’re getting carried away?” 

“I said coffee. Not lip. Order me a raspberry mocha from the shop down the street and have it here in exactly twenty minutes.” I responded as I continued to type. 

He bowed his head. “As you wish. Mr. Vox asked for an update. What should I tell him?”

I paused for a half a moment. “Tell my Dad it will be ready well before the deadline.” 

I looked back down and continued to type. It had been a month since I first found myself in hell. It took my father no time to locate me- though his reaction wasn’t what I expected. 

“Babygirl, you grew up.” He said as I sat across from him in his perfectly manicured office. A pained expression crossed his face. “Tell me, what did you do in your human life to land you in my office? And so young too…how old are you now? Eighteen?”

Sixteen. I thought to myself. An idea began to form. He didn’t remember my age- that could work to my advantage. After all, acting older than I was was a skill I acquired, and I was more than used to my own independence. I crossed my arms. “Eighteen. I’ve been running your company since I was thirteen.” That much, at least, was true. “What do you think got me here? Your business skills weren’t the only thing I inherited.” 

He sighed. “The same thing that brought me here. Fine.” 

He reached out to touch my face and I jerked away. He was a stranger to me, gone from my life when I was six. My mother tried to keep his company on Earth going, but she didn’t have the business skills I did. And when she passed the company fell to my hands with contingencies. Overnight I became the voice- the face of the company, running between me and the board. 

When I passed she was the first person I looked for. Not that I thought I’d find her- and I was right. She went up, and we went down. My dad and his company found me shortly after, and I wasn’t in the slightest surprised to find he was as much of a go getter down here as he was when he was alive, the sole owner of VoxTech. 

But as I sat in his office across from him, memories of him in life blossomed. Soft words. Snuggles. Hugs and kisses. All the comfort that was ripped away the day he left us, left me. 

“You’re going to need a place,” he continued. “A place to stay. A job. I can give you all those things. Keep you safe.”

My other option was the streets of hell. An unappealing choice at best. And so, I accepted the role he offered and the responsibilities that came with it. I was determined to show my father that I was a hardworking girlboss, worthy of his faith in me. 

“And send,” I said aloud as I finished the final drop of my mocha. My head felt fuzzy and my chest definitely buzzed but it was worth it. I opened my inbox. The time on the clock read ten- I had finished with several days to spare. Might as well keep going. 

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew I startled awake to the feeling of a hand on my wrist. 

“Hey, hey baby girl. Take a deep breath, it’s just me.” My dad said. 

I shifted and realized he had covered me with his jacket. I tried to sit up and realized I wasn’t in my office anymore. Instead, I laid on the couch in his.

Fuck. The project. Did I submit it?

“Wh-what time is it? I’m late, I still need…” I sat up.

Vox pushed me back down. “No. You need to lay down. You’re exhausted and your pulse is really high. The doctor is on his way up to look at you. When was the last time you went home to bed?” 

Three days ago. But I didn’t want to tell him that, so instead I remained silent. Vox let out a soft chuckle. 

“You haven’t changed all that much, have you?” He asked as he smoothed back my hair. “You used to do this when you were little too. Play so hard you fell asleep where you were. I used to pick you up and put you to bed, and you were so exhausted you didn’t wake up.”

“Is that how I got here?” I asked.Throbbing pain pulsed through my skull and I closed my eyes as I pressed my head into my hands. “Ugh, my head hurts.” 

“Yeah. Your assistant found you passed out on your desk around midnight. He called me right away.” He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and hit a button. “When was the last time you drank water? Or ate anything?” Concern oozed from his voice. “I found like twenty empty coffee cups in your office.”

“I had coffee. I’m good. Lived on it back home. Live on it here.” I winced as the cuff grew tighter on my arm. “I’m fine, Dad.” 

“You’re not. And I want numbers while we wait for the doctor to get here. What were you thinking?” He placed the back of his hand on my head. “Com’on you’re smarter than that.” 

I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m not a child, Dad.”

“Maybe not anymore, but you’ll always be my baby,” he replied calmly. “So will you relax and let me be your dad for a moment?” 

I relented and let him fuss until the doctor came in. Vox stood with his arms crossed until I got the all clear. 

“Just cut down on the caffeine, plenary of fluids, and get a few days of rest, and you’ll be fine in no time,” the doctor said finally. He scribbled a few things on his notepad. “Quick question. How old are you, exactly? Because your father says eighteen, but my records show sixteen.” 

I saw Vox turn to look at me, a mix of fury and annoyance on his face. Shit. He grabbed the clipboard from the doctor and scanned the sheet. Realization flooded his face. 

“Rest and fluids, that I can do,” I said loudly as I pulled myself up to standing. “Dad, you don’t mind if I cut out a few minutes early, do you?”

Vox swallowed and looked at me. “You told me you were twenty.”

“Actually, I said eighteen.” I replied, “not that it matters.”

“Oh, it does matter.” He said, his voice laced with anger. “You lied to me.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been on my own running your company for three years. But anyway, I’m going home, Dad. See you tomorrow.” I went to walk out the door and he caught my wrist. 

“Oh fuck no. You think I’m going to let my teenage daughter waltz out of here after all this? No. You’re coming home with me. End of discussion. And consider yourself suspended from work for the time being. 

I felt myself freeze. “You can’t fire me, this is my job!” 

He laughed darkly. “Oh honey! You work for me. Consider it your punishment for lying to your Boss.” He stood up. “Let’s go. You’re not staying in that apartment by yourself. You’re sixteen.” He shook his head. “You’re sixteen.”

“Then where am I staying?” I asked, crossing my arms as unease flooded through me.

“Home. With me. Where you belong.” He said firmly as he pressed his hand to my shoulder. 

I felt myself deflate but again, seeing no other option, I let him guide me to the elevator. Three floors later, the elevator opened and I followed him into a spacious living room.

“I’ll have your things taken from your apartment and moved into the fourth bedroom,” he said as he gave me the tour. 

“I’ve been on my own for a month in hell, and even longer before then,” I protested. “I know how to live by myself.”

He stopped walking and turned his head. “Then I guess it’s about time you learned how to be a teenager then, hm?” 

Anger flooded through me. “That isn’t fair! Dad!”

Vox gave me a grin. “There. That’s a great start! But seriously, you’re grounded.”

“You can’t ground me!”

He practically puffed himself up. “You’re sixteen and I’m your dad. Of course I can. And you are.” He pushed open the door “and this is your room. You can redecorate as you please.”

I stepped inside. “Wait, this is my room?”

Easily twice the size of my little apartment, the bed alone took up the center of the room. It’s current color scheme was neutral, with huge windows overlooking the city. 

“Yeah, like I said, order whatever you want and I’ll have Velvette…”

“Aunt Velvette?!” I asked, excitement washing over me. 

“You remember her?” He asked in a surprised voice. “Do you remember Valentino too?” He leaned against the doorframe and waited for my reaction. 

I turned around. “Uncle Val? The badass mafia mobster that used to come over and toss me in the pool when you guys got tired of doing it?”

“Hey, who told you he was a mobster?” Vox asked as I continued to look around the room.

“Mom.” 

He sighed. “Of course she did. Well, she wasn’t wrong. But yes. One and the same. We met up in hell and we-“

“Continue to rule together as much as you did in life. Got it,” I replied. “Did you not tell them I was here? In the building this whole time?”

Vox shrugged. “I was hoping to get to know you a bit more before I let them know you were here. But I wanted to give you some time to settle in first. After all, I thought you were an adult. Time…time passes differently down here.”

“Reader? Is that really you?” I heard an excited voice yell from the hallway.

My head turned. I knew that voice. Velvette pushed past Vox and she and Valentino practically ran over to me. 

“Aww, my little Princessa! All grown up I see!” My Uncle Val lifted me up and spun me around like I was five. He kissed me on the forehead and set me down. 

Shock flooded through my body as I looked at them both in their demon forms. Seeing my Dad with a TV shaped head was one thing- it made sense with what he did. Aunt Velvette still looked the same but Uncle Val? He looked…scarily different. Purple skin, sharp teeth. The only thing that stayed the same was his signature heart shaped glasses. 

“Valentino, chill. You spooked her.” Velvette scolded. “It’s been what, how many years?”

“Wait- where is Uncle Al?” I asked 

My father glitched. “We don’t talk about him. Not after what he did to me.” 

“What did he do?” I asked in confusion. 

“Ah, no. Princessa. Baby. You’ll get your daddy all worked up. We don’t want or need that,” Valentino scolded.

I crossed my arms and took a defensive stance. “I’m not five. And I’ve been an adult for a long, long time.” 

“Yeah, why don’t you tell us all about that? Over dinner.” Vox said, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “After all, it’s been a long time since we’ve had a family dinner.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

[aventurineswife]

Hi! This is my first time making a request but I literally love all of your hsr work and wanted to give it a try! Can I request Aventurine, Ratio, and/or anyone else you feel inspired to write reacting to reader stopping by to see them while they’re working? Have a great day/night!

In the Silence Between Chaos

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Romance, Fluff, Lighthearted, Playful Banter, Casual Humor, Established Relationship.

A/N: HII!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!🤭💖🫶

The steady hum of the office filled the space as Aventurine tapped his pen rhythmically against his desk, the gold nib catching the light of the green-glass lamp. Documents were scattered before him in a meticulous chaos only he could understand, numbers and risks dancing across the pages. The roulette-themed clock on the wall ticked steadily, but his focus was unshaken—until the sound of the door opening broke the monotony.

"Ah, darling," he greeted smoothly, his eyes lighting up as you stepped in. His ever-present smile softened into something more genuine. "To what do I owe this delightful interruption?"

You held up a small paper bag with a playful smirk. "Just thought you could use a break. Your assistant practically begged me to rescue you from yourself."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Rescue me? From work? You wound me." But the way he reached for the bag betrayed his eagerness.

Inside was a small box of pastries and a note in your handwriting: For the gambler who bets on everything but sleep.

Aventurine’s laughter bubbled forth, rich and carefree. "You know me too well," he said, setting the bag aside. "But tell me—since you're here—how about we make a wager?" His eyes glinted mischievously.

"And what are we betting on this time?" you asked, crossing your arms with a smirk.

"Whether or not this pastry tastes as sweet as you."

You rolled your eyes but laughed, knowing full well you had already lost.

The rhythmic tapping of keys filled the air in Ratio's dimly lit laboratory. Shelves lined with books, glowing screens, and complex holographic projections dominated the room. The doctor sat hunched over his desk, hair falling over his face as his fingers danced over the keyboard. He was lost in his work, eyes fixed on a glowing equation that twisted and turned in midair.

The creak of the door broke his concentration. "Veritas?" Your voice cut through the silence like a beam of light, making his head snap up.

"Ah, [Name]," he said, his sharp eyes softening as he removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "I wasn’t expecting visitors. Is there something urgent you need?"

You shook your head, holding up a thermos and a small container. "Not urgent, just… figured you might need a break. Thought I’d bring you some tea and snacks."

He blinked, momentarily taken aback, before letting out a low chuckle. "You’ve come to save me from myself, have you? Very well, I’ll indulge your concern." He gestured toward the nearest chair. "Sit."

Placing the thermos and snacks on the table, you watched as he poured himself a cup. His movements were precise, almost ritualistic, and you couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself with a quiet intensity.

"I’ve been working on a solution to a rather stubborn problem," he said, breaking the silence. "But I must admit, this interruption is… welcome."

You leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "What’s the problem?"

His lips curved into a small smile. "A theoretical model on multidimensional communication. Fascinating, yet infuriatingly elusive. Much like you."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Infuriating, huh? And yet here I am, bringing you tea."

"Indeed," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "You’re quite the enigma yourself. A distraction, yes, but also a source of clarity." His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat.

"Ratio," you teased, trying to lighten the mood, "are you saying I’m your muse?"

"Perhaps," he replied, a rare softness in his tone. "Or perhaps just the only person who can remind me to step away from the chaos and appreciate the simpler things."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, the hum of machinery around you fading into the background. In that moment, it wasn’t about equations or theories—it was about the connection you shared, grounding him in a way no academic pursuit ever could.

[writingquestionsanswered]

I used to love writing when I was in high school, but stopped after I graduated because of life. Now, after almost a decade, I want to get back into it but I don't know how. I have so many ideas but I tend to bounce around the same variations and don't know how to stick to one thing, or how to just get back into the rhythm of writing actively. Or even reading actively.

Any advice?

Getting Back to Reading and Writing

What you're experiencing is what I like to think of as "the creative zoomies."

After so long away from actively reading and writing, there's now this flood of ideas, plans, books you want to read, and stories you want to write. You can't settle and focus on a single thing because your brain wants to do ALL THE THINGS, so you keep bouncing back and forth between things hoping something will stick.

First things first... DEEP BREATH.

As I said in an earlier post, remember: there is no ticking clock. It may feel like there is, sometimes, but we're just little ants on a planet doing our things. There are no deadlines unless you sign up for any, and you don't have to worry about that right now.

So... start by taking an honest look at your schedule and your life, and see if you can figure out a realistic estimate of how much time you have in a given week. Where are there slots of time you can dedicate to writing? How about reading?

Next, it can be immensely helpful if you have a comfortable, relaxing space, free from distraction and interruption, where you can go to write. Some people like to go write at a coffee shop or library to get away from family shenanigans or bothersome housemates. If it's not a billion degrees where you are, you might also try your patio, yard, or a nearby park. Listening to soft music or "ambience rooms" (tons on YouTube) through headphones can also help you focus. There are also still some different apps and programs for distraction free writing. Just make sure to save often and keep a master document on your computer to prevent losing all your work in case the app or program gets glitchy. Also: put your phone on silent, turn off your internet if you must, and let people know not to bother you. This is your writing time... don't be afraid to guard it fiercely.

As for choosing ideas, I'm a big fan of the old-fashioned methods... random number pickers, drawing out of a hat, rolling dice... But you can also do a process of elimination based on what appeals to you the most. If you get it down to two, and then you're disappointed with the one you're left with, you know the one you just eliminated is the right idea to go with.

If you're not sure what to write, try doing some writing prompts. There are lots available online and there are some great books with writing prompts. Doing one a day can be a great way to get yourself back in the habit of writing again.

As for reading, start by reading during moments of spare time, such as if you're taking a bath, riding your stationary bike, sitting in a waiting room, or riding public transportation. You can even read during your morning coffee or your lunch break. Also, embrace the world of audio books. This is one of my favorite ways to read, because I can do it while I'm exercising, showering, cleaning, cooking, driving, doing projects... I get through so many more books by listening to audio books. More than anything, just remember that once again, there's no ticking clock. You don't have to finish a certain number of books before the end of the year. Read what you want, at the pace that works for you, and don't be afraid to DNF if a book isn't working for you.

I hope this helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[20dollarlolita]

Frill Skirt Tutorial

Here's a tutorial for making a lolita skirt with a fully elastic waistband.

Recommended background reading: How to pick quilt prints for use in lolita fashion. And here's some things I've previously said about this project.

We're going to make some skirts that look like this. This is a really fun project because you can use a lot of quilt prints, and fully elastic skirts are comfortable and flexible wardrobe pieces.

In this skirt, my pink striped fabric is "Skirt", and the navy with the shoes is "frill". The black lace at the bottom of the skirt is the hem lace, and the lace with the pink ribbon is the transition lace.

You can use the same fabric for the frill and the skirt, making it look more like the skirts referenced above. If you use different fabric for the frill and the skirt, it's is a little bit like faking a border print.

Here's some cutting dimensions. Please excuse the fact that I forgot to turn off "emulate brush dynamics".

Because this is elastic, we're going to be basing the sizes off how much fabric you cut. When you're working with a big, gathered rectangle, you have a lot of options for how much ease you're going to put in the garment.

I forgot to list it, but these skirts really look better when they're lined with a slippery lining fabric. For lining, you just need the "skirt" measurement. For size 1, you need 23" of lining, or 2/3 of a yard.

For size 2, you're going to want 36" of lining, or one yard.

All these sizes include some fabric for extra things like bows and hair accessories. I highly, HIGHLY recommend getting into the habit of making matching accessories as part of the project of making a lolita garment. You're going to need them anyway, so they might as well match.

For size 3, you will want 40" of lining fabric, or 1 + 1/8 yards.

All of these sizes assume that you're using 45" wide fabric. If you're using 60" fabric, you can likely go down a size. (This would be max hip of 52" for size 1, 82" for size 2, and 172" for size 3).

For any view, you will also need enough 1/4" or 3/8" elastic to go around your natural waist (or wherever you wear your skirt) about 4 times. Let's be honest, we all have a massive roll of 1/4" elastic hanging around from making covid masks, so let's use it up.

These skirts are a little bit on the shorter side, because that's just how Meta releases them. Since you're the one making the skirt, you can make some decisions. If you're tall, want to wear a fuller petticoat, or are building a skirt for a substyle where you usually want a longer skirt, you can add a few inches. You'll get a slightly different look if you're lengthening the skirt versus lengthening the frill, versus lengthening both equally. If you're not sure, now's a good time to check out lolibrary and look for dresses and skirts and see where they place the details around the hem. Lolibrary lets you search by brand, so search by brand and just take a note of what you see most often in pieces that you like.

For example, Alice and the Pirates often has the hem detail to be pretty close to the hem on their solid pieces, while Baby the Stars Shine Bright will have the detail going up quite a bit higher. (Please do more than the 10 seconds of searching that I did to get these examples). Therefore, if you want to lengthen the skirt and have a slightly more AatP tone, you can add the length to the skirt part of the skirt, and if you want a slightly more BtSSB tone, you can add the length to the frill part.

Researching your garments is the secret to having handmade garments that actually read as lolita fashion. Lolita fashion history is documented to an extent that no other fashion I've ever heard of is, and it really helps to take advantage of that extraordinary resource.

With our pattern ready and maybe lightly adjusted, let's get to work:

Foundational fact #1: fabric that rips will rip in a straight line along the grain of the fabric. Our skirt is made entirely of rectangles, so we're going to take advantage of that fact. If you want to cut your fabric with scissors, or with a rotary cutter, you're completely allowed to. If you don't have a serger with a functional cutting blade, you might want to cut it so that you don't need to trim the edges. I have a serger and I like to rip it. It might not be the best way, but it's how I've been making my lolita skirts since 2011, and I don't like change and I do like the stress-relieving experience of ripping.

So, lay your fabric out, and mark your cutting lines. If you're ripping the fabric, like I am, you just need to cut a little snip to get the tearing started.

This pattern factors in a half inch for seam allowance. If you're ripping the fabric, you will lose a little bit of usable fabric, so add yourself an extra inch to each cut.

Take your nice straight cuts/rips and lay them out in an organized fashion. You should have a frill pile, a skirt pile, a waistband pile, and an extra pile. If you like piles, you can also pile up your lace next to it.

You're going to sew every pile together so that you have each it its own long strip. Your lining (white fabric) should be the same size as your skirt piece. If it's longer (if you're using 45" quilt fabric for the face and 60" lining fabric for the lining), go ahead and trim them so they're the same total length in the long dimension.

Put the skirt on top of your lining and sew the top edges together.

You'll notice that this skirt is made up in doubles. The skirt is twice the long dimension as the waistband, and the frill is twice the long dimension of the skirt. This makes things easy to gather up.

If you're not using an overlocker to assemble this skirt, you will also want to run some kind of seam finish on the long ends of this skirt, to stop fraying.

(please pardon my hypermobile thumb)

A lot of people do gathering stitches by sewing two lines of basting stitches, and then pulling the thread on those stitches to cinch up the gathers. This does work really well on small things. However, as the amount that you need to gather gets longer and longer, it's gets more and more difficult to pull those threads without them breaking. Instead, I like using an applied gathering string. My current favorite string is waxed dental floss. Most dentists recommend unwaxed floss since it grabs more plaque, so make the smart decision and retire your waxed floss to be in your sewing box.

If you are making this project on a serger or an overlocker (and this is a GREAT first serger project), you can overlock over the dental floss. Here you can see the white floss going between the two needles. The needles are not going through the floss, just on either side of it. Tip: that little hole in the front of the presser foot is actually intended for you to put elastic or thread through so you don't need to hold it as carefully. I forgot and so I didn't do that here).

We're applying the dental floss onto the top edge of the ruffle.

If you aren't using an overlocker, you can do some form of hem finish (my favorite is the 3-step zigzag) and then apply the dental floss by doing a zigzag over it. Again, the needle isn't going through the floor, just on either side of it.

Now, pin your ruffle onto your skirt. I divide the ruffle and skirt up into equal portions, and then pin it first. My ruffle is twice the long measure as the skirt is, and they're both cut out of the same width of fabric. This means that dividing the ruffle up is pretty easy, because I can use the seams of the ruffle. The first seam in my ruffle goes halfway between the edge of the skirt and its first seam. The second seam of my ruffle goes on the first seam of my skirt, and so on.

Then, you just pull your dental floss so that it gathers up the fabric, and pin it down. Since we divided the fabric up earlier, we don't need to spend as much fight getting all the ruffles to be even. Go ahead and pin everything down, and then sew it together.

Now you're going to fold the skirt and lining in half to seam it all together. Match up your seams, and unfold your lining (see picture). This will let you sew the frill, the skirt, and the lining all together in one go.

The easiest time to put the hem and transition laces on is before you attach the waistband. The basic rule with gathered skirts is that it's a lot easier to apply anything flat that you can before you gather it.

In a lot of older lolita tutorials, a lot of people treated lace as optional. However, now that it's not 2007 anymore, we have a bit more of an expectation for detail in the garments we wear. Quilt cotton especially has a very flat texture, even when it has a nice print. If you can add a bit of texture and detail, you want to do so. If you're doing the skirt and the ruffle out of the same fabric, you can probably get away without using the transition lace, but you will still want hem lace.

I didn't have any lace when I was making this one, so I used a couple of lines of decorative topstitching between the skirt and the frill. I got the idea from this blog post from 2010. I didn't execute it as well as Lolita Noveau did, but that was the general concept.

Anyway, waistband time.

Take the edges of your waistband and press them in. You don't need to apply a seam finish before you do this. I have overlocking on mine because I ripped my fabric, and used the serger to clean up the edge. If you don't rip your fabric like a savage and use technology like scissors instead, you don't have that problem.

Fold your waistband in half. It's now time to sew the elastic channels.

Here's the secret to this waistband. Start out by stitching a line about 3/16" away from the fold in your waistband.

When you put your elastic in, this little line of stitching makes your waistband stay on straight, and adds a tiny ruffle to the top. I picked this up from the Metamorphose frill skirts, and it's amazing.

After you've made that line of stitching, start making channels for your elastic. Add about 1/8" of width from the width of your elastic (so 1/4" elastic, sew your channels at 3/8". 3/8" elastic, sew your channels at 1/2"). Leave a space for you to be able to actually put the elastic in. Don't forget this, or you'll have to redo it. Ask me how I know. I found that three channels works pretty well. Don't sew the channel closest to the edge, because you need to attach your skirt.

You're going to need to gather the top of your skirt, just like you gathered the top of your frill. Get your dental floss and your zigzag stitch ready.

Your waistband (flat) will be twice the length of your skirt, so you can pin and pull the gathers just like you did for the ruffle.

So this part is important: You are going to sew the right side of a single thickness of the waistband onto the wrong side of the skirt. I don't have a good picture of this, but here goes trying to explain it.

You need to sew the waistband so that the top seam of the skirt (the part that's sewn to the lining) is sandwiched between the front and back of the waistband. You are going to have your edges of the waistband turned under to hide the raw edge.

While you CAN do this by just putting the top of the skirt edge into the waistband seam and sew it down, you can make it look prettier by doing it like this:

You sew the right side of a single thickness of the waistband to the wrong side of the skirt. This means that, when you unfold it, the seam will be pointing outward, towards the viewer. This feels like it would look bad.

You then press that seam so that it's flat, and then wrap the front of the waistband to the front of the skirt. You tuck the raw edges into the waistband, so that they're all sandwiched between the back and the front of the waistband. You then sew the front of the waistband down from the front.

What this does is it allows you to have very precise control of where your final line of topstitching is. If you've ever sewn a skirt facing and been told to stitch the back of the facing by doing a stitch-in-the-ditch, this is like that but in reverse. It's the same process, but with the top stitching definitely showing.

Anyway, you can now cut your elastic to your waist measurement (or maybe about an inch shorter than your waist measurement) and start feeding it through your elastic channels. Since you're using such thin elastic, it helps to have negative ease (which is the technical name for "cut it smaller because it'll stretch) in your elastic measurements. Start by putting in the elastic at the top casing, and go down.

Sew your elastic ends together when you're done, and there you go! If this is your first lolita garment, congrats! See if Wunderwelt Closet Child has a blouse in your size that goes with your skirt, because they ship fast and some items are really discounted. 42lolita is a lolita-themed taobao reseller that's easy to shop. Basically just don't overpay from devilinspired. If you're going to have to wait crazy long lead times anyway, you might as well be not spending their big marked up prices.

Finish up any little last things, like threading the ribbon through your beading lace, if you used it.

Anyway, now you have a skirt! Yay. Make yourself several and learn how colors, prints, scale, and texture work with each other.