#rectangular scarf

[charliecraftsthings]

Improvising a pattern for a rectangular shawl. I hope the stitch math works out!

Alternating two rows of DC with one row of DC mesh. I think I've figured out how to work the decreases to get a nice right angle, but only time (progress) will tell.

This is a beautiful mercerised cotton laceweight yarn where one by one, the plies are joined to darker and darker colours to create a long gradient. It's like crocheting with a kilometer and a half of embroidery floss! The final colour is so dark it's nearly black, but in just the right light, you can see the glinting green shine. I love it!

[presidentkamala]

ok i NEED a hobby that will let me dissociate gently in the evenings so i don't dwell on my lack of a life/love/fulfillment

[handmadejewelriesgifts]

Tip: For added style, you can also use a scarf ring or pin to secure the ends in place.

[gf2bellamy]

I have no idea if I hallucinated that requested this or smt, so totally ignore this if i've already asked.

But could you ever do a fic where spencer is at the hospital from that time he got shot at, and reader gets his belongings while he's in surgery and she sees a ring box in between them. (Engagement ring ofc) And she talks with spencer after and tells him that she saw it.

That's kinda the idea, love your work and thanks in advance if you decide to write it. 🥰

ring — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer is in the hospital because of his neck injury , mention of a shooting, reader being worried / panicked , a/n: hii !! i loved this request so much that i ended up writing like 5 different versions of it - i hope you like this !! <33 ( also i definitely got carried away with this )

Blake had practically shoved you out of the hospital waiting room, insisting you go to Spencer’s apartment.

You didn’t want to leave—not when Spencer was still in surgery, not when every second felt like an eternity of uncertainty.

But Blake had been firm but kind. “He’s going to be okay, but he’ll need things when he wakes up.” 

You had resisted at first, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Garcia’s call hours earlier had sent your world spinning. “Spencer’s been shot,” she had said, her voice trembling.

You didn’t remember the drive to the hospital—only the blur of streetlights and the pounding of your heart. When you arrived, Blake had met you in the waiting room. She explained that a bullet had grazed Spencer’s neck, that it was serious but not life-threatening.

Still, the word “surgery” had lodged itself in your chest.

It wasn’t until the doctor emerged to tell you the surgery had gone well that you finally agreed to leave. Spencer was stable, but he wasn’t awake yet, and visiting hours were over. Blake had told you, “Go pack a bag for him. He’ll need clothes when he’s discharged.” 

Now, standing in the middle of Spencer’s apartment, you felt weird.

The space was so him—neatly organized bookshelves, a chessboard set up on the coffee table, and the faint scent of Earl Grey tea lingering in the air.

It was comforting, but it also made his absence feel more pronounced. You took a deep breath and got to work, pulling out a duffel bag from his closet and starting to pack. 

You began with the essentials: a few pairs of pants, sweaters , and socks. You couldn’t help but smile as you grabbed a handful of mismatched ones. But then you remembered his purple scarf, the one he always wore when the weather turned chilly. It was his favorite, and you knew he’d want it when he was discharged. 

The problem was, you couldn’t find it. 

 You opened drawer after drawer, your frustration growing with each one. Spencer was organized, but the scarf was nowhere to be found.

“Where is it?” you muttered under your breath, your hands moving faster as you rifled through his things. You checked the top shelf of the closet, the hooks by the door, even the laundry basket, but it wasn’t there. 

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you pushed aside the row of clothes hanging in the closet, your fingers brushing against something soft and familiar.

There it was—tucked away in the very back, as if it had been hidden on purpose.

But as you pulled the scarf free, something else tumbled out, landing softly on the carpet at your feet.

A small, rectangular white box.

Your breath hitched as you stared at it, your mind racing.

You carefully placed the scarf in the duffel bag, your hands trembling slightly as you bent down to pick up the box. 

The box was too small, too specific to be anything ordinary. You held it in your palm.Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lifted the lid. 

 And there it was. 

A ring.

A beautiful, delicate ring with a diamond that caught the dim light of the room, scattering tiny rainbows across your hand. It wasn’t just any ring—it was an engagement ring.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of your lungs. You sat down heavily on the edge of Spencer’s bed, your legs suddenly unable to support you. 

 “Oh my God,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your eyes were wide, your mouth slightly open as you stared at the ring, unable to look away. The diamond sparkled, almost as if it were alive, and you reached out to touch it lightly, as if to confirm it was real. The metal was cool against your skin, the stone smooth and perfect.

Your mind raced, trying to process what this meant. You couldn’t help but already imagine the moment he might have planned—his nervous smile, his hands fidgeting, his voice soft as he asked the question. The image was so vivid it made your heart ache. 

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the ring cradled in your hand, your thoughts spiraling. But then, like a jolt, you remembered where you were supposed to be.

The hospital. Spencer.

He was still there, still recovering, and you were sitting here staring at a ring. 

Carefully, you placed the ring back in its box and closed the lid. Your hands were still shaking as you tucked the box into the duffel bag, burying it beneath the clothes and the scarf. You stood up, slinging the bag over your shoulder, and took one last look around the apartment.

 As you locked the door behind you and headed back to your car, your mind was still spinning.

The drive to the hospital was a daze. The streets blurred together.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking lot. You sat in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady your breathing.

The ring. It was all you could think about. 

Finally, you forced yourself to move, grabbing the duffel bag and stepping out into the cool night air. The walk to the entrance felt surreal, like you were moving through a dream. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and you made your way to the waiting room.

You sat down in one of the stiff chairs, the duffel bag resting heavily in your lap. Your thoughts were a swirling mess, replaying every moment, every interaction with Spencer over the past few weeks. Things that had seemed innocent at the time now took on a new meaning. 

A couple of weeks ago, he had dragged you into a jewelry store, casually asking what styles you liked. You had laughed it off, thinking he was just curious. Then there were the random dinners at different restaurants, him intently watching your reactions as you tried new dishes. “What kind of food do you like best?” he had asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.

At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. Now it all made sense. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice Blake walking in. She sat down across from you. It wasn’t until she spoke that you snapped back to reality. 

 “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice gentle. 

You blinked, finally noticing her presence. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” you mumbled, forcing an awkward smile.

Your voice sounded distant, even to yourself, and you could tell Blake wasn’t entirely convinced. She studied you for a moment, her gaze flickering to the bag in your lap. 

 “Did you get everything you needed?” she asked, her tone casual. 

You glanced down at the bag, your fingers tightening around the fabric. “Yeah, I got him some sweaters, pants, and just… clothes in general,” you said, your voice trailing off as your gaze drifted to the wall behind her. Your mind was already wandering again, back to Spencer, back to the ring, back to the unanswered questions that were swirling in your head. 

And then, almost casually, Blake added, “And scarves?” 

That got your attention. Your head snapped up, your eyes locking onto hers. She was smiling slightly, her gaze knowing. “You found it, didn’t you?” she asked. She took in your wide-eyed expression, the way your hands tightened around the duffel bag, and she didn’t need an answer.

She already knew. 

“He asked me for advice,” Blake continued, shaking her head as if recalling the memory. A soft laugh escaped her, and you could tell she was amused by the whole thing.

“He did?” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart was pounding, your mind racing to keep up with the conversation. 

“Yes,” Blake said, her smile widening. “He wanted to make sure he got it right. Spencer’s not the type to do anything halfway, you know that.” 

A smile tugged at your lips—maybe the first genuine one since Garcia’s call had shattered your world hours ago. You let out an emotional chuckle, the sound shaky. “It’s a beautiful ring,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“It is,” Blake agreed, her voice warm. “He spent weeks looking for the perfect one. Even spent hours in one store, agonizing over the details. You should’ve seen him.” 

You had to brush a tear from your eye as another chuckle escaped you. “That sounds like him,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

The thought of Spencer meticulously searching for the right ring, second-guessing himself, trying to make sure it was perfect—it was so him. So thoughtful, so Spencer. 

It was a lot to process and your mind was still spinning, when suddenly a nurse appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. 

 “Are you two here for Spencer Reid?” she asked.

You nodded immediately, jumping to your feet so quickly that the duffel bag slipped from your lap and landed on the floor with a soft thud. Blake reached down to pick it up, handing it to you with a small smile. “He’s awake,” the nurse continued. “You can see him now.” 

Your heart leapt into your throat, a mix of relief and nervousness flooding through you. You turned to Blake, expecting her to follow, but she stayed seated, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Are you not coming?” you asked, your voice tinged with confusion. 

Blake shook her head, her smile soft and knowing. “I’ll give you two a moment,” she said gently. Her tone left no room for argument, and you realized she understood. The emotions were about to be high, the moment intimate, and Blake was giving you the space you needed. 

You smiled, gratitude washing over you. “Thanks, Blake,” you said, your voice sincere. She nodded, her eyes warm, and with that, you turned and hurried after the nurse, the duffel bag clutched tightly in your hands. 

The walk to Spencer’s room felt both endless and far too short.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand questions, but all of them faded into the background when the nurse stopped outside a door and gestured for you to go in. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

The nurse gave you a reassuring smile before walking away, leaving you standing there, your hand hovering over the door handle. 

 You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and then pushed the door open. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Spencer was lying in the bed, his eyes closed, his face pale. For a moment, you just stood there, taking him in, relief flooding through you at the sight of him alive and breathing. 

 And then his eyes fluttered open, as if he could sense your presence. “Hi,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

 “Hi, Spence,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you closed the door behind you and stepped closer to his bed. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion and the bandage on his neck.

You set the duffel bag down on a nearby chair, your hands fidgeting nervously as you tried to find the right words.

But before you could say anything, Spencer’s lips curved into a small, tired smile. “You’re here,” he said, his voice soft.

“Of course I’m here,” you replied, your voice breaking slightly. The words felt inadequate, but they were all you could manage. Spencer watched you with a weak smile, his eyes soft but tired.

You weren’t entirely sure how to approach the situation. Your hands hovered awkwardly at your sides, unsure whether to touch him or keep your distance.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice gentle as you stood right next to his bed, close but not quite touching. 

 “I’m okay,” Spencer said. He tried to sit up slightly, wincing as he shifted. You instinctively stepped forward, your hands reaching out but still not making contact. “You sure? Do you want me to get you something? Water? A pillow?” you offered, your voice tinged with worry. 

“No, no,” Spencer shook his head, managing a small smile as he finally settled against the raised bed. He glanced at you, his eyes searching yours, and then he whispered, “You can touch me.” 

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him. He had noticed—of course he had. Your hesitation and your fear of hurting him if you touched him.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You immediately rushed to sit down on the edge of the bed, where he had slightly patted the space beside him with as much energy as he could muster. Your hands found their way to his face, brushing the hair away from his forehead, your fingers trembling as they traced the lines of his face. 

“God, you scared me so much,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding in. Spencer closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as you continued to gently twist his hair between your fingers. Your hands eventually drifted down to his face, brushing over his cheekbones, your touch feather-light.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, his eyes still closed, his breathing steady but shallow. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

When he opened his eyes, you stared at him for a moment, trying to absorb the fact that he was really here, awake, and alive. The relief was overwhelming, but so was the flood of emotions you’d been holding back. You wanted to say so much, but the words felt tangled, caught somewhere between your heart and your throat. 

Instead, you forced a small smile and shifted the conversation to something lighter. “I got you some clothes,” you said, gesturing to the duffel bag. “I figured your hospital gown isn’t exactly comfortable.” 

“It’s not,” Spencer admitted, his voice still weak but with a hint of amusement. You set the bag on your lap and opened it slightly, pulling out a few items to show him. “I got you some books too,” you added, hoping to distract him—and maybe yourself—from the heaviness of the moment. 

Spencer’s interest was immediately piqued, his tired eyes lighting up just a little.

“Which ones did you—” he started to ask, but then he stopped mid-sentence. His gaze had landed on something in the bag, and his expression shifted.

You followed his eyes and realized what he was looking at: the purple scarf. It was peeking out from beneath the stack of clothes.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker.

Spencer’s mouth opened slightly, his eyes darting from the scarf to you and back again. You could see the realization dawning on his face, and your stomach dropped. 

“It was an accident,” you finally said nervously, breaking the silence. Your voice was rushed, almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean to find it. I was just grabbing your scarf because, you know, it’s freezing outside, and I thought you’d want it when you’re discharged, and—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were rambling. “I’m sorry,” you added, shaking your head and offering an awkward smile. 

Spencer, meanwhile, was full-on blushing, his pale cheeks now flushed with color. It was a stark contrast to how he’d looked just 20 seconds ago.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words. His cheeks were still flushed, his eyes darting nervously around the room before finally settling on the wall behind you. He looked completely lost in thought, his mind racing a mile a minute. 

“No—it’s… it’s okay,” Spencer finally managed to say, though his voice was quiet and hesitant. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Spence?” you asked softly, your slightly trembling hand reaching up to gently cup his face again. Your touch seemed to pull him back to the present, and his eyes slowly met yours.

“I’ve been planning this for a long time,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Your hand fell from his face, but he caught it before it could retreat, his fingers intertwining with yours. His grip was firm, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away. “I asked Blake for advice,” he admitted, his tone sheepish. 

“I know,” you whispered, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “She told me.” 

Spencer didn’t seem surprised that Blake had shared that with you. Instead, he nodded, his eyes dropping to your joined hands.

“I wanted it to be perfect,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I had a speech prepared, and I—I was going to have this whole routine on how I would ask you.” He tightened his hold on your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry you found out like this,” he added, his voice hesitant.

He opened his mouth again, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking away, as if he couldn’t bear to hold your gaze. 

The room fell silent. You could see the disappointment in his expression, the way he was beating himself up for not being able to execute his plan the way he’d envisioned. But to you, none of that mattered. What mattered was the love behind it, the thought and care he’d put into something so meaningful. 

After a beat of silence, you finally spoke, your voice soft.

“My answer is the same either way,” you whispered. 

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“You want to…?” he started, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The hope in his eyes said it all. 

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yes,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes. “Of course I do, Spencer. How could I not?” 

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and pure joy. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire being. He squeezed your hand tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again.

You smiled, your own eyes slightly glossy as you looked at him. The room felt quieter now, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

“Now you have to heal faster,” you whispered, your voice teasing but tender as you brushed your thumb over his fingers, “so we can get working on our wedding preparations.” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the word wedding, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts shy and delighted.

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he were trying to process the reality of what you’d just said. Then he let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and genuine despite the hoarseness in his voice. 

“Wedding preparations,” he repeated, his tone a mix of awe and amusement. “I… I hadn’t even gotten that far in my planning yet.” He paused, his smile turning sheepish. “I was so focused on the proposal that I didn’t think much about what would come after.” 

You chuckled. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got plenty of ideas,” you said, your tone playful. “But first, you need to rest and get better. No more getting shot, okay? I can’t have my fiancé—” The word felt strange but wonderful on your tongue, and you paused, savoring it for a moment before continuing, “—running around getting himself hurt.” 

Spencer’s smile widened at the word fiancé, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Fiancé,” he murmured, as if testing out how it sounded. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice soft. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering for a moment against his skin. When you pulled back, his eyes were closed, his expression peaceful. 

“I’ll heal faster,” he promised, his voice quiet. “I’ve got a wedding to plan now, after all.” 

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A digital comic of Celia Ripley and Samama Khalid from The Magnus Protocol. Celia is a taller, slim, Korean woman with pale skin, short black hair, rectangular glasses, gold piercings, and dimples. She is wearing a coat, vest, scarf, trousers, and nice shoes, all in green and dark purple with gold accents. Sam is a shorter, fat, South Asian man with brown skin, short curly black hair, a mustache and small goatee, and black earrings. He is wearing a coat, turtleneck, cardigan, trousers, and nice shoes, all in brown, dark red, and green.

They are standing in a hallway in front of a closed door. Celia is spinning a set of keys, and they are smiling at each other.

Celia: Well, this is me. I had a really good time, Sam. Sam: Yeah, me too! Celia: We should do this again. Sam: Y-Yeah! I'd like that a lot, Celia.

She goes to unlock her door, peeking back to smile at Sam, who is standing awkwardly, looking away. She opens her door with a creak and gives him a shrug.

Celia: Thanks again for walking me home, Sam. I really appreciate it.

She pauses, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. Sam smiles, gesturing about sheepishly. The text as he speaks takes up the next three panels, partly obscured by the two of them and fading towards the bottom.

Sam: OH! Well, you know it was no big deal I just figured you know. It's polite and it gives us more time to talk and it's not always safe out there at night. Not that you can't handle yourself I just you know and I figured company would be nice on the walk back and we were already having so much fun so-

As he talks, Celia calmly steps closer, smiling, lifting her hands up near his face. He notices her hands, looks up at her, and then looks slightly downward towards her lips as she leans closer, his eyes going sparkly. A shadow falls over him as she blocks out the light.

Sam: It's really no.... problem....

She smiles, looking at him with intent and then looks down at his lips. A pink haze appears behind them in the background. She finally tilts her head and kisses him, knocking her glasses askew. The background is all pink with hearts surrounding them. There are two closeups, one of their lips touching and one after they've pulled slightly back, lips glistening and pink sparkles surrounding their faces.

She stands back up, smiling down at him, pink haze fading behind her, before startling slightly. She is still holding his face, slightly squishing his cheeks. His eyes are still shut and he is blushing severely, hair slightly mussed. He opens his eyes, expression vague, with tiny hearts in his eyes and sparkles around him, pink haze remaining behind him, before he suddenly tips back, surrounded by hearts, and giggles "hee-hee". The tail of the speech bubble forms a heart. Celia panics, leaning forward to grab him.

He snaps back, haze gone, with a "POP!" as she pulls him up, and they are chest-to-chest for a moment before Sam pulls back, blushing, looking awkward. He clears his throat before abruptly turning around and walking off.

Sam: OKAY BYE CELIA. (smaller bubble, an aside) Sleep well.

She watches him leave, amused and confused, and chuckles "heh-heh", a couple hearts around her. She waves, heading into her flat as he leaves, embarrassed.

Celia: See you at work Monday, Sam! Sam, in a thought bubble: FUUUUCK

end ID]

~~~~

I FINISHED THE THING YAY please enjoy ripsam being. silly geese <3 after a nice date <3

[freshstitches]

Bear Claws was designed to celebrate the 10th birthday of the stacked stitch technique and the Fox Paws pattern. This engaging striped colorwork project features a large scale flame stitch motif. The pattern is relatively simple, using only a few rows of shaping in combination with color to create a distinct claw motif.

The wavy colorwork in Bear Claws is created using stacked increases and decreases. There are no loops on the wrong side and the wrap is very stretchy and drapey. The fabric is light and airy, not dense like stranded colorwork and mosaic knitting. If you're new to stacked stitches, check out my playlist on YouTube. You'll have an easier time with these stitches if you've tried increases, decreases and slipped stitches.

This pattern can be recolored in many ways, the coloring page available to anyone who wants to download it. You can use any number of colors you like, as long as they have good contrast. I recommend picking a Main Color that is not too bright or flashy in comparison to the others.

Written instructions are included in the pattern alongside a visual guide called a “stitch map.”  It's not the same as a traditional chart and is meant to be used with the written pattern. The rapidly fluctuating stitch count of the stacked stitches doesn’t fit nicely into a square grid. Instead, the map uses symbols and lines that bend and flow as the rows do, as they would in a crochet chart. The primary use of the stitch map is to show how each row relates to the last and to help you find mistakes and get back on track. 

Finished Size: 14 (23.75)˝ x 82 (82)˝ / [36 (60) x 208 (208) cm] rectangular scarf including fringe.

Yarn: Rowan Felted Tweed DK; 191 yards (175 meters) per 50 gram skein, 50% Merino Wool, 25% Alpaca, 25% Viscose.

Pink Scarf - 5 colors and 3 repeats wide

Main Color: Peony, 3 balls

Outer Color: Zinnia, 2 balls

Inner Color 1: Pink Bliss, 1 ball

Inner Color 2: French Mustard, 1 ball

Stripe Color: Barbara, 1 ball

Brown Wrap - 7 colors and 5 repeats wide

Main Color: Ginger, 4 balls

Outer Color 1: French Mustard, 2 balls

Inner Color 1: Stone, 2 balls

Stripe Color 1: Zinnia, 1 ball

Outer Color 2: Duck Egg, 1 ball

Inner Color 2: Watery, 1 ball

Stripe Color 2: Canary, 1 ball

Needles: Size 6 (4mm) 32˝circular needles, or size needed to obtain gauge.

Gauge: 16 sts x 36 rows = 4 x 4” (10 x 10 cm) square in garter stitch.

Other Materials: Tapestry needle, stitch markers, pins, blocking wires, blocking surface.

Get the pattern on my website and on Ravelry.

From now until the end of October, take 20% off all patterns, pins, books and stickers when you use the code "FoxyBday" on Ravelry or on my website.

Video Resources:

Bear Claws Playlist

Weave in tails as you knit

General Stacked Stitch Resource Videos

Yarn for this project was provided by Rowan

[lily-bisque]

✎ a lesson in love

part 1 - flutterings

៹ series masterlist

synopsis: your bestfriend, satoru gojo, has always been the smartest. yet, when he begins to question his true feelings for you after unwanted sparks of jealousy ignite in him, he wonders how exactly he’ll manage to make you fall, too.

chapter wc: 3.1k

taglist (open): > @bobateea @sylusonlylove @aporcelainphantom @kay-the-ghost

“J-just… sob really loudly into the phone when I give you the signal. Sound good?” His voice was urging you, cerulean orbs searching yours for any hint of agreement. His somewhat overgrown locks fell over his forehead and stood out in awkward places, his look messy yet neat.

You scoffed, turning your head to the side and lifting your hand, palm up, between the both of you. He glanced down at it and huffed, digging in his pockets and muttering curses.

There was no way you were doing this for free.

Pulling out a wad that was definitely too much—but he didn’t care, and you wouldn’t complain—he slapped it in your hand and sighed, staring down at you once more. “This enough?”

Giving him your cheeriest smile, you clasped your hands and brought them behind your back, rocking on your heels and giggling. “Absolutely perfect. Won’t letcha’ down, Serge. Great doin’ business with you.” You mock-saluted him, standing in attention form, then turned on your heels, heading back into your dorm room and counting the bundle of cash.

Satoru Gojo—elitist 4.5 GPA, Student Council President, Captain of the Digimon club, and all-time 4-eyed nerd was your best friend. The two of you grew up alongside one another, ever since you’d both been clad in diapers and drool. Fast-forward to now, at your private university in Tokyo which you both attended, Gojo’s mom had set him up for blind date after blind date. She was worried that once the senior year dawned upon him, he’d be a depressed and single loser with his figurine collection.

He wasn’t the most fond of these arranged blind dates; after every single one of ‘em, he’d complain to you.

“That knowing and pitying look in her eyes, like I’m some fuckin’ clueless virgin she’s come to rescue, pissed me off.”

“She didn’t ask me any questions about myself. Not one. Ya know, just cause’ I’m double majoring in history and english, doesn’t mean I’m some guy whose too absorbed in his schoolwork to tell when she’s bored.”

“Her mom was with her. Dude. It was like I was on a date with her mom. She just sat there as her mother bombarded me with question after question-.”

It’s been a few months of this back and forth, so he managed to devise a plan to get rid of the dates. You, ever the sweetheart, offered your assistance after hearing his grievances, but when it started to eat away at your personal life as he’d call for help during a study session or even a date of yours, you needed some form of compensation.

So that’s how you ended up where you are now—perched up in a cafe clad in a not-so-subtle trench coat, black sunglasses, a scarf that was way too itchy, and a newspaper you snagged from an old lady who fell asleep on a bench outside. She wouldn’t miss it, right? After all, you were only borrowing it—planning to sneakily slide it back into her lap as you headed back out.

The sound of a bell reached your ears, signaling a new customer entering the cafe. Snowy tresses registered in your mind as you peeked over the top of the newspaper, your best friend adjusting his rectangular glasses as he caught your eyes. A smirk crept up on his lips as he winked at you and turned back to his date.

The lady in question followed close behind him—she had silky brunette hair that reached her waist and rippled as she giggled at something Gojo said. What was so funny? Brushing her waves past her shoulder, you made out a simple pastel pink blouse that matched her flowing white midi-skirt. Her feet were adorned in the cutest kitten heels, and part of you wanted to ask her where she had gotten them from.

But no. You steeled your mind, pushing away any distractions as you slid out of your seat and moved to a further back corner of the cafe.

A waiter walked over to the both of them, ordering whatever drinks and pastries in this overpriced meet-cute spot that would be spoiled as Gojo never wasted his time in escaping. He barely put an effort into dressing up—still wearing his school uniform. Yes, your university was far too overpriced, arrogant, and prestigious that it had its students wearing uniforms up until the ripe age of 22.

Sliding your hand to your latte, you brought it up to your lips and took a deliberate sip, eyes never leaving the interaction. Around 5 minutes passed with them chuckling about whatever they were talking about, with no signal from Gojo. He never even glanced your way, his eyes refusing to break from the girl’s face.

She was gorgeous, you couldn’t blame him. But, since when did he care? It’d been a couple months of this exchange of him sucking up to his mom’s pestering with the hope that she would lay off. Eventually, she would run out of friends and acquaintances with daughters his age to ask.

So why was he entertaining this?

Tearing your gaze from the interaction, you checked your phone to see if he had maybe texted you, but you had no notifications. What the hell?

“Anything I can get for you, miss?” The sudden voice startled you, making you flinch in your seat and glance upwards. A waiter stood before you, giving you a sheepish smile before apologizing for sneaking up on you.

“Hah, no worries. You’re alright! A-and you don’t need to get me anything. M’ all set.” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you lifted your cup, nearly knocking it over and taking a knowing sip. He let out a low chuckle, the deep and velvety resonance entering your ears.

“I’ve seen you around campus, haven’t I?”

You titled your head, eyebrows furrowing as you scanned his face. “Have you?”

“Yeah. Tokyo Tech, right?” He said your name, and your heart nearly skipped a beat.

Nodding slowly, you took in the man’s entire form, giving him a slow once-over before you registered his familiarity. “Oh! You’re on the football team, aren’t you?”

Another laugh left his lips, this one sending a chill down your spine. “Yup. That’s me. Ino. Ino Takuma. Glad I made somewhat of an impression.”

You nodded slowly, clasping your hands in your lap as a question left your mouth faster than you’d intended. “Where on campus have you recognized me from?” Your campus was pretty big, so the fact that he not only recognized you but knew your name surprised you.

The man shifted in position, reaching his hand up to rub his nape, his gaze breaking away from you as he smiled nervously. “I sit next to you in literature and film.”

Your eyes widened, feeling your heart rate pick up as your hands clammed up. There’s no way you just embarrassed yourself like this–is he lying? No—he knew your name. How could you not notice him sitting next to you?

Literature and film was the advanced English course you’d been taking since early September, and it was well into October now. As a film studies major, you wanted to use this class for an honors thesis you’d be writing for an internship, and hearing that Gojo would be taking it as well made it all the more exciting since your schedules rarely aligned with your contrasting majors.

He picked up on your guilt-written expression, shaking his hands before you and chuckling. “Don’t worry about it. You’re usually with your friend, uh… Satoru Gojo. I didn’t expect you to notice my presence since you’re usually chatting with him.”

You nodded slowly, fiddling with the seamwork of the coat you had on and feeling embarrassed, cheeks flushing and all. “My bad. I’ll make sure to say hi on Tuesday,” you mumbled somewhat, clasping your hand over the opposite forearm and nibbling on your lip.

Ino glanced behind him, his gaze fixed on where Gojo was sitting and then turned back to you. “You two are usually hanging out. Why’re you here and… not there.” He pointed out.

You smiled awkwardly, adjusting the scarf that was tickling your neck. “It’s complicated.”

“Right… and I’m not gonna ask about the uh.. costume,” he trailed off with a chuckle, his gaze lingering on your clothes. Your cheeks burned as you opened your mouth to somehow defend yourself for the eccentric outfit, but you were interrupted.

“Ino, rush hour in 10. Need all hands on deck, c’mon!” Wow. They were serious for a cafe spot.

The brunette man turned and shouted back that he’d be there in a second before returning his gaze to you. “So uh… see you Tuesday?”

You plastered on a sweet grin, nodding your head and giving him a small wave. He returned the gesture and headed back into the kitchen.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you lifted your hands to your cheeks to feel warmth on the back of your hands. The entire encounter felt mortifying–how had you not noticed this guy for over a month ? To be honest, you didn’t even remember his name until he told you, unknowingly saving you the embarrassment.

You could blame that on Gojo–he made it his sole duty to make fun of you in your shared class whenever you were confused. He’d scribble over the notes you’d jot down, saying you didn’t need it, or smack you on the back of the head when you’d start losing consciousness out of boredom from the droning lecture.

…Speaking of Gojo–

Your gaze snapped upwards to where the man in question had been sitting, but both the seats were empty, their plates and cups still full, and a wad of cash laying idly on the table.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath. Jumping from your seat, you grabbed the newspaper and your latte, heading outside in hopes of seeing them. Maybe they weren’t hungry… possibly taking a walk? The prospective thought made no sense as they wouldn’t leave their things behind in a mess, making you shake your head to brush the thought off and iron out any nerves that lingered.

One thing you knew—Gojo was going to kill you.

As you made your way to the door, you could see Gojo and his date on the other side of the street through the glass, deep in some sort of conversation.

Her arms were lifted and flailing, gesturing at the cafe you stood in, her face contorted in what looked to be anger. You could only guess she was yelling at him from the sideways glance the two received from bystanders.

Gojo had a hand draped on his neck, his expression reading with what looked to be remorse as he endured whatever insults she spat at him. Eventually, once she gathered her bearings, she stormed off and left him standing there.

Sliding as inconspicously as you could out of the restaurant in the hopes of avoiding him, the bell chimed again, and Gojo’s head snapped in your direction. He pushed his frames up his nose before his face twisted in—oh shit.

Turning on your heels, you passed by the elderly woman—who was somehow still snoring—and set the newspaper back onto her lap with a whispered ‘sorry’ and hurried down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

Pretending not to feel the impending doom blooming in your chest, the feeling that prey experience as they sprint away from the strides of an advancing predator, you hurried your walk. Gojo had no issue catching up, however, as his slender fingers reached out and tugged against the nape of your coat.

A yelp left your lips as he pulled you to his chest, and you clasped your eyes shut. Oh man, were you going to get it. Not only that, he was probably going to take back the cash. The idea made your heart sink and sigh.

Your name left his lips, his tone dry and flat.

“Y-yes,” you stammered out, refusing to open your eyes.

“What the hell was that?” His question sounded rhetorical and you were ready to receive his chiding words. Your body braced itself for impact.

After a few excruciating moments, his grip loosened, and your feet settled on the ground. Huh? An eye peeked open in confusion before you turned around to see the distressed man.

Those large hands of his dragged across his face as he groaned, recounting the horrible events of the date. “Christ, I fucked up. I’m so mortified.” The reddened tinge tickling the crown of his ears didn’t go unnoticed to you.

You looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to the white haired man losing it in the middle of the sidewalk. To your surprise, no one was.

“Well, it couldn’t have been–,” the whisper that left your lips was starkly interrupted.

“No. It was that bad. It was the worst it could’ve been. It was so so so bad. So much worse than you think.”

Your heart rate picked up as your interest was piqued, ears perking up like a puppy. “What happened…” you questioned, feeling as if you were entering unmerited territory.

A grimace twisted in his face as the memories flashed back. “She… she was pissed that I wasn’t looking at her.”

“What? Why weren’t you looking at her?”

“Cause’ I was looking at you, dumbass. You and Ino chatting it up.”

You slapped a hand on his shoulder to which he flinched at. “You idiot. If you couldn’t at least finish the date, you should’ve given her some attention. You’re such an ass…” you trailed off, pinching his forearm to which he cursed you at before a question entered your mind. “Isn’t that what you wanted, though? Why’d she get so pissed off if you were just distracted?

A feigned smile made its way onto his face, radiating seething anger that nearly had you stepping backwards. “I wanted the date to end after I got distracted. She told me about her grandma who died recently when I called out for the signal at the same time.”

Your eyebrows shot up so high that they nearly touched your hairline. “W-w… you did what?”

Note: the signal the two of you managed to come up with was Gojo making an eagle sound. Literally “ca-cawing” and then blowing it off when his date would be confused, enter you with some sort of marvelous emergency he had to escape to. It made you giggle everytime.

The thought of him doing that after she revealed such a horrible truth–.

“Shut up,” he cursed through gritted teeth, glaring into your back. Now, you were on the ground, hands on the concrete as you struggled to catch your breath. Your stomach hurt from the laughs you were letting out, completely forgetting the two of you were in public.

Perching back on your heels once you’d calmed down, you looked up at Gojo, who looked far from pleased. “This funny to you?”

Standing up, you let out a few more giggles and brushed off your knees. “Extremely. And it’s your fault anyway. Why’d you take so long to signal for me?” You chuckled in between huffs.

Your eyes searched his, and his gaze changed to something unreadable. “Dunno. Thought she was funny,” he spoke softly, pupils darting left and right between yours as if he was assessing your reaction.

Turning away from him, you nodded your head and mulled the information over. “I could tell, asshat. You guys were giggling the second you walked in, she must’ve been hilarious.”

He fell into pace quickly beside you and leaned down to look at your face. “Ya think so?”

In the back of Gojo’s mind, he was searching your face for something, anything to hint at what he wanted to hear.

“Duh. You shouldn’t have signalled. If you liked her, you should’ve let the date keep going. Dunno why you were stupid enough to get distracted.”

That occasionally reocurring thought of his subsided, returning to his full length, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “What were you guys talkin’ about anyway?” Ah. He must be talking about Ino.

The memory of the encounter flashed back into your mind, making you sigh with embarrassment. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you teased and he scoffed. “Did you know he was in our lit. and film lecture?” You added

He nodded, furrowing his brows. “Yeah. He sits right next to you. You haven’t noticed?”

A loud groan left your lips as you jabbed your finger at the pedestrian push button and stopped your stride, gazing into the street. “I’m such an idiot, Gojo. Like… truthfully.”

He chuckles and ruffles your hair, to which you swat his arm at. “Yup. Don’t have to tell me that.”

You cursed him and waited for the walk signal, a comfortable silence settling between the both of you. “What do you… think of him?”

Gojo looked down at you, a confused expression crossing his face. “Ino? Dunno, I don’t really know him personally. We don’t uh… hang in the same crowds.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

The pedestrian walk signaled illuminated neon white, Gojo grabbing the back of your head and pushing you forward teasingly. “You really are oblivious to everything, aren’t’cha?” He joked, a knowing grin plastering on his face.

“Shut up! And no I’m not. I just don’t… I don’t pay close attention,” you defended, though you sounded pretty unconvinced which earned a chuckle from the man beside you.

“Yeah yeah. He’s captain of the football team. I’m basically summa cum laude. He’s a frat boy. And I’m uh… academically driven.”

“You mean a nerd?”

“Tomato, tomato.”

“Just because you two don’t run in the same crowd doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. Like, look at you and Geto. He’s not all that academically driven, yet you two are joined at the hip.”

“And you’re an idiot and glued to the other side of my hip.”

You smacked the back of his milky hair to which he chuckled at.

“Why do you care anyway?” He added.

“He seems nice,” you put plainly. “I don’t know, he seems like he’d be a good friend to have.”

Gojo pouted as the two of you turned a corner, and he pulled you to the other side of him and away from the bustling street. “Am I not enough for you?” He whined, feigned jealousy dripping from his tone.

‘You’re too much actually.”

The two of you made your way back to campus and trudged up to the girl’s dorms, where he kicked your shin and ran off before you could hit him back.

Waltzing into your single dorm, you shut the door with your foot and set down the latte you had purchased on your desk, eyes skimming over the plethora of assignments you had waiting for you. A groan left your lips as you plopped down, deciding to attempt to work through them before your next classes.

៹ next part - stars for you

[thrawns-backrest]

A guide to chiss fashion

Alright, it’s finally done. I’ve managed to compile my headcanons in a format I’m more or less happy with so say hello to the chiss fashion guide. As I’ve said before, this is a homage to my love for fashion history and fashion illustration books so it’s written in the same(ish) kind of style, with made-up history and trivia behind it.

Mind you this isn’t about what your regular civilians wear – I can’t even begin to imagine what the spectrum of current fashion looks like for a species spread over multiple planets, that’s too much of a tall order.

Instead I’ll talk about what I imagine as ‘standard traditional wear’. A kind of traditional ensemble for formal occasions which is also the accepted dress code for the upper ruling classes and administration. The books give us many indications of how hung up the chiss are on rank so I imagine their fashion reflects that accordingly, with dress codes and etiquette and whatnot.

So without further ado, let’s start with structure.

The typical traditional ensemble consists of: underwear (plus any additional thermal underlayers), an underrobe, outerwrap robe, jacket (optional, mostly decorative) and top robe or coat (not pictured) for more severe weather and outdoor activities.

First we have the underwear layer (1) with a wraparound robe which can be long or short depending on the season, breeches and any other additional thermal layers underneath.

Next comes the underrobe (2) with a high buttoned collar and fitted sleeves. A slit starts at around chest level and ends in the usual overlap pattern at the ankles. This hem is often embroidered and is meant to be visible under the outerwrap robe.

This robe is also what I imagine is used as lounge wear at home (sometimes accompanied by a lounge robe) or as an outer layer in warmer climates and casual settings, though it’s usually decorated with accessories to make up for how plain it is. Some underrobes, especially padded styles for colder weather, have a waist string to pull excess material in in preparation for the layers to come.

Underrobes for low ranking administration are traditionally red, symbolizing specific qualities, but more on color symbolism later.

Then we have the outerwrap robe (3) with its flared bottom and sleeves which are also typically decorated. The outermost edge of the hem is important here because that’s where the trim that shows family allegiance goes.

These robes are closed with a pair of strings (usually at waist level but may be higher or lower depending on current trends) and the kind of knot used varies depending on social standing and occupation, again, a reflection of how classist the chiss are in my mind. For lower class administration, in case the knot is obscured by a decorative item (like a jacket or scarf), the item is required to have strings of its own where the knot can be duplicated.

The next part of the outfit is the jacket (4) which also varies in style depending on the wearer’s rank. A popular style for low ranking administrators is a waist or thigh level boxy cut with rectangular sleeves that don’t cover the embroidered hems of the robe under it.

Jackets can have individual trims and even small lapels. Structured shoulders and wide lapels are inappropriate as they’re reserved for upper level Aristocra.

Despite their popularity, these jackets aren’t a practical item since their cut provides little insulation and they prevent the use of garments like top robes and coats. Because of this they are either meant to be taken off or worn with cloak-like outer layers outdoors.

Fashion, especially that of the high class, is rarely all practical so I think it’s neat to include elements that are less functional and more so trendy, decorative or appropriate.

This goes in the opposite direction as well and I imagine there being plenty of modern modifications like hidden zippers for easier donning and a variety of false hems, cuffs and collars to minimize layering, making the outfits more functional.

As long as the overall silhouette and main elements are retained, the outfit is considered appropriate though more formal events are usually attended in proper full traditional wear.

Next we have accessories.

The most common ways to accessorize in traditional ensembles are scarves, jewelry, fans, and a variety of trims. Scarves are normally worn between layers and can be used to cover up the open hole at the neck in colder settings. The long sleeves make bracelets impractical but earrings and necklaces are hugely popular. Handheld fans are also a stylish way to elevate the outfit and different kinds of trims like feather and fur are used in less formal settings.

With all that in mind a complete outfit ends up looking something like (5).

Moving on to Syndics:

(traditional silhouette and some images of syndics to show the range of variety available to them)

With Syndics we start to see the appearance of structured shoulders (a strictly upper class element) and more extravagant lapels, particularly in jackets. Still no structured collars however as these are reserved for Patriarchs. Jackets, in contrast to those worn by lower ranking administrators, are longer and made of soft, flowing fabrics like silk, with the goal being to show off expensive materials and dyes (hence rich colors and light silky textures).

Proper etiquette regarding underrobes and outerwrap robes remains the same with one exception being the waist knot: higher ranking syndics aren’t required to replicate the knot if it’s covered by an overgarment or accessory (a syndic’s status is obvious from other elements of their outfit).

In general Syndics are the echelon with the most freedom when it comes to their fashion. With the exception of some traditional elements, there’s more room for variation in accessories, cuts and combinations: Low ranking Administrators need to follow a stricter dress code while Patriarchs are limited by the need to project a certain image so you see the most variety in the fashion of Syndics, the only exception being extremely formal events and ceremonies where the traditional silhouette is a must.

(Syndic Zistalmu with a more personalized interpretation of the traditional structured shoulders.)

And finally, there’s Patriarchs.

Patriarchs, in my mind, have the strictest and most elaborate dress code. Their outfits retain the most traditional elements so they’re like a walking museum piece in, sometimes literally because many of the pieces they wear are hereditary and come from famous artisans.

With Patriarchs we see floor-length jackets, very wide lapels, often with opulent linings like patterned velvet, structured collars (attached to the jacket separately), decorative skirts, silk undergarments and elaborate headwear. In addition, their outerwrap robes fasten with two twin knots rather than one.

Most if not all of these elements are strictly reserved for Patriarchs so they’re instantly recognizable.

The jackets are both long-sleeved and sleeveless depending on how lavish the robe underneath is and the wearer’s desire to show it off.

The separately attached collars are distinct and were originally meant to demonstrate proper posture, fitting best when the wearer was standing or sitting upright. Their rigidity and restrictiveness has decreased over time but they still serve to highlight the wearer’s stance.

The collars are the only element I think I’m willing to allow for Patriels as well, albeit I imagine them a bit more understated. I’m still in two minds about the rest.

For Patriarchs, the top of the white underwear robe is also visible above the underrobe collar – normally underwear garments are supposed to be concealed but these robes were given tall necklines to prevent chafing to the neck from the structured collars worn on top. In order to do that they were made from fine silk which eventually became a status symbol, both because of the expensive material and the fact that they were used in combination with structured collars and nowadays the high collar of the robe is visible at the neck.

The overskirt (pictured above and fastened with strings) is the most traditional element of the ensemble. It’s become obscure in other ranks and is distinctive as a result. The pleating is meant to demonstrate an abundance of fabric, usually heavy patterned or embroidered velvets, and I imagine these pieces to be especially heavy. Its only purpose is for layering and decoration.

Somewhat counterintuitively, Patriarch robes have less lavish lower hems (absent the usual flared shape and no trailing fabrics) to allow for ease of movement and compensate for the extra weight added by the rest of a Partiarch’s accessories. And when I say these outfits are heavy, I mean heavy.

Ceremonial robes in particular are notoriously a nightmare to wear and require practice and a good bit of stamina.

(ceremonial robes)

In terms of curiosities, the Stybla are an interesting case both because their Patriarch is allowed to wear ruling family regalia despite not being one of the nine and because they preserve some older elements in their garments from the time they were the only ruling family. Like the gold pin with their family crest, attached to the lapel. The curled hair style and ‘sun’ style headpiece are also elements that go in and out of Patriarch fashion but the Stybla stick to them because that’s the style that was prevalent in their heyday.

All of this is for the purpose of projecting the image of an innocuous quaint old family that still clings to its ‘faded’ glory.

Now for headdresses. There’s three main styles of headdress, labelled ‘moon, ‘planet’ and ‘sun’ accordingly. The main circular elements are meant to display family crests and can have various additional accessories attached to them like chains and ornaments.

I imagine there used to be more styles, at one point as many as the ruling families, but in time as fashions shifted they boiled down to the three main ones. These are usually worn with the traditional long hairstyles that all patriarchs conform to and are attached using a system of clips and pins to the topknot at the back.

The hairstyle itself is known as the ‘waterfall’ style, inspired by a classical style of sculpture.

Pictured below is a ceremonial style headpiece which are only worn at the most formal traditional ceremonies.

In general, these headdresses are somewhat unwieldly and unstable if the wearer moves too suddenly. This is again intentional as similarly to the collars restricting posture, it’s meant to restrict movement to ‘slow’ and ‘deliberate’.

And finally we have color symbolism

This is something I imagine as very important for no other reason than it gives me another fun element to play around with so let’s get into it.

In general, a chiss outfit is mainly made up of cool colors and a few warmer highlights though that can sometimes be flipped depending on the wearer’s preference or current trends. Overall there’s a preference for cooler colors and those close to the chiss’ natural coloration (skin and eyes) which also has biological reasoning but more on that later.

Most importantly, colors have culturally established symbolic associations, meaning the wearer can choose qualities they want to emphasize through their choice of color. This is often done through statement pieces to make the choice stand out, such as: eye catching clothing items or accessories, wear frequency, color predomination, etc. Often times the colors don’t reflect the wearer’s true qualities but rather the image they’re trying to project.

Because of the complexity of this system, most Aristocra rely on tailors and stylists to construct their outfits (and by extension public image) for them.

There’s also the so called ‘military colors’ (black and white) which are reserved for the army and navy and are only used as highlights in non-military contexts or by off-duty members of the military:

(General Ba'kif depicted in military colors with Stybla teal, decorative fan and robe trimming)

Colors are divided into ‘cardinal colors’ with long established traditional meaning and secondary ones whose meaning is fluid and depends on current trends. The cardinal color symbols are as follows:

Blue – order, duty, perseverance Red – passion, diligence, honor Purple – firmness, reliability Magenta – innovation, farsightedness, creativity, individuality, self-assurance Green – steadfastness, calm, security Orange – boldness, confrontation, certainty in battle Yellow – vitality, energy, enthusiasm Black – stability White – prestige, perfection, glory

(In chiss culture, light blue is a separate color from dark blue. The blue referred to here is what is commonly referred to as dark blue.)

Sometimes colors can be divorced from traditional meanings like when they’re used to denote family allegiance or as secondary colors meant to just compliment a palette. The color symbolism system is also all but irrelevant for the general public where trends and personal preferences take priority.

It still carries a lot of weight in the upper classes, however. For example, low ranking administrators are expected to wear red underrobes to symbolize their dedication and diligence.

An example of how colors can be used to make a political statement is Patriarch Thurfian, who upon being promoted to his post adopted a color palette of blue, purple and green to indicate a stable, orderly and traditional rule as opposed to Thooraki’s more maverick politics and preference for warm reds, yellows and magentas.

(Patriarch Thurfian in characteristic blue palette with 'moon' style headdress and purple collar. The jacket is sleeveless, showing off the decoration of the outerwrap robe sleeves.)

Overall, there are many ways to use color to indicate meaning. Warm vibrant colors are in general a bold choice so they’re seen as more of a statement, like for example a bright yellow scarf.

Syndic Thrass favored a bright magenta jacket with wide short-cut sleeves to emphasize his charisma. Zistalmu is an example of a more fashion-forward choice with a predominantly maroon color palette, a secondary color with fluctuating meaning. Colors can also underline subtle family and political allegiances, like Ba’kif wearing teal (a color traditionally associated with the Stybla) as a highlight color off duty.

Lastly, biology also plays a part in color preference, albeit a minor one. (Disclaimer, I’m not a biologist so take this section with a grain of salt.)

Unlike humans, chiss are tetrachromats, meaning they have four types of light-sensitive cone cells in their eyes. In addition to the cones most sensitive to short (blue), medium (green) and long (red) wavelengths, the ones found in humans, they also have ones that respond to the infrared spectrum, giving them their infrared vision.

They also, unlike humans, have a higher number of blue sensitive cones and a very low number of red sensitive ones. This is because even before Csilla’s shift to a cooler climate, the flora and fauna of their world had predominantly blue pigmentation, the same pigment that gives them their skin color, which is the main evolutionary reason for their sensitivity to blue.

This imbalance is somewhat made up for by their infrared receptors, as infrared is next to red on the spectrum, but the low number of red sensitive cones means they’re not as sensitive to shades of orange and yellow.

Despite this, they still use these colors in their wardrobe (albeit less frequently and with less variety) and the rarity itself has contributed to the specialness of their meaning. Red in particular has proved itself an enduring staple because of its presence in the color palette of natural chiss pigmentation.

The rarity of these colors could also explain why they’re assigned traditionally less desirable virtues in the color symbolism system.

(secretary Ronan (Lyron) as I imagine him in my fic, with a red administrator underrobe, embroidered outerwrap robe, and yellow scarf as statement piece accessory.)

I’ve also toyed with the idea that the bioluminescent properties of their eyes interfere with the natural perception of colors (much like a red filter) which has led to an adaptation where the brain filters out the excess light in the red spectrum, making them even less sensitive to different shades of red and its adjacent colors. It’s an adaptation similar to that which allows most species to filter out constant monotonous background noise to aid hearing.

But that’s another thing I’m in two minds about as it complicates things further and I’m not too sure of the biological mechanics of it.

[you-know-i-get-itt]

jeremy is like a sock. jean, on the other hand, is like a scarf. aaron is like a pair of glasses with rectangular lenses. andrew is like a pair of glasses with rectangular lenses and a thick frame. neil is like your old favorite sweater that got too small for you so you let your grandma rip it up and stitch it back together as a sweater for your dog. kevin is like a purse

[lionlena]

Unforgivable mistake (JoelMillerxreader) Part 12

Summary: Reader is much younger than Joel and is in love with  him. One night, after arguing with Tess and getting drunk, Joel spends  the night with a reader, but in the morning he breaks her heart…  She  runs away from Boston hoping that she will never meet this cold bastard  again in her life. But almost six years later, she unexpectedly sees  Joel in Jackson. She decides to hide herself and her little secret from  this asshole.

Warnings: age gap (reader is about 28 years, Joel 58),  strong language, swearing, past trauma, bullying, attempted rape, memories of sexual abuse, unprotect p in v,  dom!Joel, Joel is asshole, ANGST, hurt, sadness and heartbreaking, sexual harassment, women abuse, violence, injury, sickness, misunderstanding, breakdown

A/N: So, these were your decisions:

However, for people who still do not want to read the sex scene, the text will be marked in red.

Part 12

You always liked Christmas. You liked the Christmas atmosphere and searching and making gifts. Your heart always swelled with joy as you decorated the Christmas tree with your little boy. You were happy when you visited Anna and Toby just before or a few days after Christmas and they greeted you with sweet treats. And now it seemed like the holidays were going to be even better after Joel and Ellie joined your family. Not to mention that the Christmas holidays also took on new colors for Teddy. You saw him whispering with Ellie and Joel and you suspected it was about a gift for you. It was so sweet.

You had also started exchanging other things for gifts a few weeks earlier because that's how it worked in Jackson. People traded things for other items or small services.

You managed to get new colorful books for Teddy, one of them presented different breeds of horses in a humorous way. You found a hunting knife for Ellie. You knew Joel wouldn't be happy about this, but in the end, what mattered was her happiness. You made a warm scarf for Claudia in her favorite color. And you found new leather gloves for Joel. You knew it was something he would definitely come in handy on patrols.

But before Christmas, you realized that maybe you would be able to give him one more gift… Something more intimate.

It was like an epiphany. The kids decorated the Christmas tree with Joel. Teddy was in a mischievous mood and started wrapping his dad in Christmas chains. Joel laughed and started joking about being immobilized. And you just stood in the doorway with your eyes wide open. It was a missing piece that suddenly fell into place.

"Honey, help, please!" Joel's voice broke you out of your trance and you joined in their fun with a smile, but the sight of Joel tied up did not disappear from your mind.

A few days later, on Christmas morning, everyone got their presents. You were happy to see the joy on the faces of your loved ones. You haven't been forgotten either. The kids gave you horse-shaped cookies and a colorful bracelet, and Joel gave you a necklace with a horseshoe pendant. You were touched by their efforts.

The whole day passed in a joyful atmosphere. You went for a walk with the kids and took part in a big snowball fight in the middle of the city. To your surprise, even Joel joined. And of course, he was targeting Tommy and Ellie. It was adorable because he suddenly looked 20 years younger and you knew you would remember this sight forever.

In the evening you ate a delicious dinner, and when Teddy went to bed and Ellie was busy reading a book in her room, you finally decided to give a special gift to Joel.

He was sitting on the couch with a steaming mug of tea with honey and bourbon. You sat down next to him, holding your mug and the rectangular box in your hand. Joel raised his eyebrows.

"What's that?"

You set your mug on the coffee table and placed the box on his lap.

"Gift."

Joel followed you and set his cup down as well.

"I already got a gift from you and I am very pleased with it."

"I know but… it's something different… something special and I don't know if you'll agree to it."

You waked his curiosity and he couldn't help himself anymore and he opened the box. The contents of the box surprised him. Inside was a rope, a wide dark ribbon, and a key. Joel looked at you with a surprised puppy face.

"Sorry, baby, but I don't really know what to do with this. It's… really… interesting but…"

His attempts not to offend you were amusing. You couldn't help but peck him on the cheek.

"I'm already explaining everything to you. I accidentally realized what could help me break through my trauma and make love with you."

Joel gasped and sat up straight. You had his full attention.

"Oh…"

"You know, I'm most afraid of losing control… being vulnerable again… I know you've changed and I believe you won't take advantage of it, but it's stronger than me."

Joel grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingers.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I know I deserved this lack of trust… And I'm grateful to you for giving me a second chance."

He looked at the contents of the box again and slowly began to guess what you wanted to do.

"So, do you want to tie me up?"

When he said this, you couldn't help but blush.

"Only hands…"

"Okay. And this." He ran his fingers along the navy blue ribbon.

"To cover your eyes."

A smirk appeared on his face.

"This is getting interesting. And the key?"

"To an old house on the outskirts of town. I was borrowing it from Tommy. I told him we wanted to see the house because it was bigger and see if you could renovate it… But what I really wanted was for us to have a quiet place where we could hide out during the day "

Joel smiled widely and pulled you into his lap. You squealed in surprise but didn't mind. You sat up facing him and placed your hands on his strong shoulders.

"You have thought of everything, my Angel."

You smiled and felt his strong hands caress your hips.

"So you agree to this?" you asked shyly.

You weren't really sure if Joel would agree to give up his dominance. But looking at his satisfied face, you slowly gained hope.

"Of course, I agree. If it's something that will help you get over trauma, I agree with everything. It's something new for me but… I'm 100% for it."

You sighed in relief and leaned against his body. Joel kissed your temple and whispered:

"But remember, I don't want you to put pressure on yourself. I still stand by what I said. I love you whether we have sex or not."

His words filled you with peace. You leaned down and pressed your nose into his neck, inhaling his scent.

"I love you," you whispered and felt Joel hug you tighter.

Two days later, you and Joel agreed to meet at the old house at noon. Teddy was supposed to be with Claudia, Emily, and Rose until the evening, and Ellie would go about her business.

Joel had gone to the old house earlier, lit a fire in the living room, and spread blankets on the floor. He didn't want to tell you this so as not to upset you, but he felt as anxious as a teenager.

You were nervous too. Your heart was beating like crazy as you crossed the threshold and locked the door. You knew no one would disturb you there, but you wanted to be sure.

Joel immediately greeted you with a smile and walked over to you. He kissed your lips and helped you take off your jacket. He grabbed your hand and led you toward the fireplace.

You sat down on the blanket and took a deep breath.

"So, how do we start?"

Joel placed his large hand on your cheek.

"Slow down, Sweetheart. We have a few hours. Let's take our time."

Joel squeezed your hand comfortingly and murmured,

"I got the wine."

You smiled and nodded. You were glad that Joel was being responsible this time and he wasn't rushing to anything.

You sat next to each other on the floor, leaning on the couch. Joel handed you a glass of wine and kissed your temple.

"Is it warm enough?"

"Yes," you replied and took a sip of wine. The alcohol warmed you up even more.

The whole house was cold, but you were warm enough when you were this close to the fireplace.

After some time, you felt Joel's hand caressing your thigh. He did it gently and slowly and focused his full attention on your reaction.

Despite your initial tension, you slowly started to relax. Joel leaned down and started nibbling on your neck, and a soft sigh escaped your lips. Joel smiled and tightened his grip on your thigh.

"Is everything okay, Honey?"

You nodded even though you felt a little anxious and took a shaky breath. Joel sensed it immediately and moved his hand away.

"Do you want to tie my hands now?"

You were surprised by how willing he was to give you the power. You smiled and stroked his hair. You set your wine glasses aside.

"Can you lie on your back?"

Joel immediately obeyed your command as if you had some magical power over him.

You reached for the box that was still lying on the couch. Joel prepared everything. You pulled out the rope and Joel folded his hands over his chest.

He looked at you with excitement. He really liked your idea and that gave you confidence. You moved closer to him and tied his wrists together.

"Not too tight?" you asked with concern.

You didn't want your comfort to be discomfort for him. You believed that wasn't what love was about. You also didn't want to take revenge on him for what happened in Boston. This wasn't what your relationship was supposed to be built on.

"It's perfect, Darling," Joel replied with a smile to encourage you. "Continue…"

You smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt. You pulled the fabric up and kissed his belly. Joel growled quietly.

"God…"

You giggled quietly and did it again, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to tease him a little. Joel tensed his abdominal muscles and looked at you in awe.

His eyes were shining and for a moment you even regretted that you were going to cover them. You reached for a blindfold and wrapped it around his head.

You kissed his forehead and then whispered:

"Do you see anything?"

A shiver ran through his body as he felt your breath on his ear.

"Nothing…" He managed to croak out.

You smiled and looked at his pants, which already showed a bulge. Apparently, you've discovered some forgotten Joel’s fetish.

"All right." you purred and sat on his legs, then unzipped his fly and looked at his face. You grabbed his pants and the waistband of his boxers.

"Can I?"

Joel lifted his hips, giving you a clear signal to pull the fabric down.

"I beg you."

You giggled and with his help, you pulled down his pants and boxers.

Your eyes locked on his semi-hard cock. You swallowed and touched him, causing him to hiss softly.

You couldn't help yourself. You didn't really get a chance to look at him the first time.

Now you had plenty of time and full power, and that excited you. You felt yourself getting wet and you were filled with joy. Your plan worked. You felt no fear. You didn't panic. Joel was at your mercy and he liked it.

You supposed he could have freed his hands if he wanted to, but that was the point. Joel wanted your needs to be important, not his.

Before you could start touching him, you got up from his legs and took off your pants and panties.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What do you think?"

"You're undressing… I heard the belt buckle… you know you have beautiful thighs…"

You rolled your eyes and you knelt by his hips. You grabbed his cock but he suddenly jumped.

"Wait!"

You looked at him in surprise and your heart skipped a beat. Has he changed his mind? He didn't want to give you control?

"You don't want to do this without preparation…"

You breathed a sigh of relief and your heart warmed with his concern.

"Don't worry… I'll get ready."

Joel groaned like a disgruntled puppy.

"Why should you do it alone when you have me…"

You frowned. Was Joel trying to change the rules of the game?

"Your hands are tied."

A deep chuckle escaped from his chest.

"But you didn't gag my mouth."

"What?"

If Joel wasn't wearing the blindfold, you'd see him looking at you with a look: Really?

"You don't mean to tell me that Steve has never eaten you."

At that moment, you were glad that Joel couldn't see your red face.

"He did, but never… in a position like this."

A sly smile appeared on his face.

"Then I'll do it even more willingly… come on, sweetie… don't be shy and sit on my face. You won't regret it."

His voice was dripping with lust and your breathing quickened. You felt that this way you would completely dominate him. It was too tempting not to take advantage of it.

Finally, you slowly knelt over his face with your knees on either side of his head. He placed his tied hands on your lower back and pushed you closer to him. You gasped at the moment his lips touched your slippery lips. His mouth immediately covered your pussy. His tongue began to circle your clit. You moaned softly and grabbed his hair. His stubble caused this burning, pleasant feeling on the inside of your thighs. Joel purred until you felt a vibration against your cunt. As his thick tongue pushed into you, you couldn't help but moan loudly. You began to move your hips, your clit rubbing against his curved nose that you had never been more grateful for. Joel devoured you like a hungry dog. Slurping sounds filled your ears.

"Ah… Joel… Joel!"

You arched your back, your thighs trembling, and your orgasm hit you with such force that you were afraid you were going to collapse all your weight on his face.

Joel smiled and slowly pulled his tongue out of you. He licked up your juices and kissed your thighs before helping you move aside.

You were so delighted that you leaned in and kissed him on the lips, tasting yourself. His hands tangled in your hair.

"Now… Now you're ready." he purred, not hiding the satisfaction in his voice.

It took you a moment to catch your breath, but you finally sat on his legs and wrapped your hand around his semi-hard, thick cock, and started stroking it, exploring every vein with your fingertips.

He squirmed and moaned. His cock was now standing proud and Joel hissed.

"Baby…" his voice was hoarse. "I don't want to spoil your fun, but if you don't stop… In a moment I won't be at your disposal anymore."

You giggled and hovered over him.

"I see. You've been waiting for this for a long time."

You slowly sat on his cock. You hissed, feeling that familiar burning sensation as he stretched you. You never forgot it… Although that memory was obviously negative. It was different now. Then in Boston, he was drunk and didn't care about your feelings or comfort. Now you were partners, two people with a strong bond.

Joel gasped and brushed his hands against your thighs.

"Ahhh… Baby… You're wonderful. You're the most wonderful woman in the whole damn world."

You smiled and placed your hands on his chest. Your hips moved up and down. You weren't in a hurry, you didn't have to. You were in complete control of everything and Joel didn't complain. You heard his deep growls and saw his breathing quicken. At that moment you felt something new… A new chapter in your relationship has opened. You trusted him.

When you felt yourself getting closer to your second orgasm, you moaned loudly and quickened your pace even more. Joel grabbed your thigh with his tied hands as much as he could. His grunts became even deeper. But at some point, he bit his lip, he was getting closer to coming, but he didn't want to do it before you… He couldn't.

But you didn't hold back. You reached between your legs with one hand and started rubbing your clit. Your moans became even louder.

"Ahhh! Ahhh… Honey!"

And so you reached your second climax. You collapsed onto his chest and Joel groaned softly.

"Y/n… Baby… I'm too close…"

Joel started moving his hips and you heeded his warning. The lack of condoms in the post-pandemic world sucked. You hadn't talked about this part of your relationship, but you both seemed to realize that it was too early to think about having a second child.

You slowly pulled out of him and laid down next to him. You decided to help him and grabbed his swollen, throbbing cock with your hand. Joel made an almost animalistic, primal sound. After fasting for so long, he didn't need much. Just a few movements of your hand was enough and he came, and gushing sperm covered his belly and reached his shirt.

While Joel was still breathing heavily, you couldn't help but start licking his skin.

"Jesus!"

His flaccid cock twitched even though there was no chance of it getting hard again.

You giggled and pulled away, once you had licked most of the semen off you looked at him with affection and started to untie his hands.

When his hands were finally free, Joel immediately removed the blindfold. His eyes had to get used to the light again, but he still looked at you with admiration and devotion.

"Hi…" he croaked and brushed his hand against your cheek. "I missed your beautiful face."

You smiled and placed your head on his chest. His hand started stroking your back.

"Did you like it?" you asked and looked into his eyes.

You didn't need a verbal response. It was enough for his lips to curve into a wide smile and his eyes to sparkle.

"That was amazing…" His hand started caressing your hip. "But the more important question is, did you like it? Was everything okay?"

You snuggled closer to his body. His concern only proved to you how much he had changed since Boston.

"Yes. I'm fine. I feel very good… Do you think we can do it this way for now?"

You felt a little uneasy asking about it again. You didn't know if Joel would consider tying his hands a one-time thing.

Joel nodded and kissed your head.

"Of course, Sweetheart. I'm proud of you for fighting your trauma… We will do everything slowly. At your pace and on your terms."

His words were like a soothing balm for your soul.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat.

"Maybe next time we'll try without the blindfold?"

Joel also closed his eyes and smiled. He pulled you closer to him.

"Whatever you want. With or without a blindfold. It doesn't matter to me as long as you feel safe and comfortable with me."

You took a deep breath and felt sleepy. The fire was still burning in the fireplace, Joel's body was warm, and his voice sounded like a lullaby. You yawned and murmured sleepily:

"Can we take a nap?"

Joel chuckled quietly. He found you so cute when you were sleepy.

"I'd love to take advantage of this opportunity. We still have a few hours."

Joel covered you both with a blanket and buried his face in your hair. It wasn't long before you were both dozing off. *

The next day, when you were driving together to Anna and Toby, you had a blissful smile on your faces. You kept glancing at each other. Whenever your horse rode next to Joel's horse, he immediately placed his hand on your thigh.

You two heard a long groan behind you.

"There are children here."

Joel laughed and rolled his eyes. He looked at Ellie, who was riding with Teddy.

"You keep saying you're an adult. So just one kid and…" Joel smirked and placed his hand on your hip. "We're just showing affection. It's nothing bad."

Ellie snorted.

"Yeah, right… That's why you've been so happy since yesterday. Find a room."

Teddy started laughing happily.

"Ellie, Daddy, and Mommy have their own room at Grandpa's."

Ellie patted his head.

"You'll understand when you get older."

You looked at them and smiled. You loved the little fights between the teenage girl and Joel and the way Ellie took care of Teddy.

Suddenly Joel stopped your horses and you looked at him in surprise. You were practically at Anna and Toby's house. But when you realized what it was about, your heart trembled. From a distance, it was obvious that something was wrong. There was a trail of blood in the snow leading to an open door. The front windows were broken.

You didn't think much, your instincts just kicked in. You jumped off your horse and shouted:

"Anna, Tob…"

Joel was equally fast. He grabbed you from behind and pressed his hand to your mouth.

"Shhh…" he growled. "We don't know who is there."

You looked at him with tears in your eyes. You realized he was right. Your behavior was irrational. You nodded and he released you.

Meanwhile, Ellie was hugging the worried little boy. Joel walked up to her and gave her the reins of his horse.

"Hide among the trees."

Teddy looked at him and whimpered.

"Where are the grandparents?"

Joel wanted to hug him, but instead, he rubbed his shoulder soothingly and said sympathetically,

"Don't worry, 'bear cub'. Me and mom will check everything."

Joel tried to stay calm even though he suspected the worst.

He walked up to you and handed you his handgun while he took the shotgun.

"You're following me. If something goes wrong, you jump on your horse and you all run back to Jackson. Without turning back. You understand!"

His voice was so stern and commanding that all you could do was nod and hold back the tears that wanted to escape from your eyes.

Joel sighed, he didn't want to be so hard on you. He cupped your head in one hand and kissed your forehead.

"Okay. Let's go."

Slowly, tense, and focused, you approached the house. The surroundings seemed deserted. You felt your heart in your throat. You glanced at the open door and the trail of blood leading into the house. You heard Joel's voice:

"I'll check the house…"

When he disappeared into the house, you had the impression that time stopped. You felt fear and despair wash over you. Anna and Toby were like parents to you. You couldn't lose them like this. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.

Finally, Joel left. He still looked focused and ready to fight.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"What?" you croaked.

Joel stepped closer and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

"No one is there. There are no bodies… Someone must have been there… The house looks ransacked, but… Anna and Toby may still be alive."

You felt the world spinning around you. You didn't know if it was all real or if you were stuck in some nightmare.

"What happened here?"

Your question hung unanswered in the frosty air.

Taglist: @casa-boiardi @noisynightmarepoetry @ihavetwoholesforareason @sloanexx @creedslove @orcasoul @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @i-workwithpens @milla-frenchy @liatome @jojo-munson @pascalislove @goldenhxurs @elliaze @aestheticangel612 @cheyxfu @prestinalove @stevengmybeloved @faith-alons26 @harriedandharassed @this--is--music @joeldjarin @elliaze @ajeff855 @anislabonis-love @quality-lust @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @misshoneypaper @simplyreading96 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @softstarlite @missladym1981 @heartpascalispunk @brujademente @littleshadow17 @emmathetrash

Pernament tag list: @harriedandharassed

Yes, I know, this cliffhanger is… Ugh… But I promise that this time the next chapter will appear much faster so I won't leave you in suspense for a long time.

Part 11

Part 13

[itsabouttimex2]

A Brand New Journey:

Part Five

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

Macaque has always been so good to you. Even from the first day you accidentally stumbled onto him, he had been kind.

Your arm had been gashed open by an unfortunate fall, dripping blood and throbbing in pain with each shaky step forward. Although you had hoped to get home before dark and patch yourself up with an ever dwindling first-aid kit, praying that there were enough bandages and antiseptic left for the wound.

But then there were two sets of footsteps close behind, spurring you to disregard caution and start sprinting down the street-

Whereupon you had bumped into one very strange demon, wearing an inconspicuous ru and sporting a tattered scarf.

“Going somewhere, kiddo? You shouldn’t be in such a rush, you now. You might get hurt. Ah, but…”

His hand then shot forward to clamp around your wrist, turning it over to examine your bleeding forearm.

“Looks like you already did, huh? Here, let me just…”

Rip. Shriiiip.

The precise shredding of thick fabric, his clawed fingers cutting a rectangular strip from the already ragged scarf. He had placed one end on your wrist, then gave you a strange grin.

“Hang in there, kiddo.” The simian warned you almost too late, given barely a second to brace for the stinging pain of having a wound forcibly bound shut with naught but pressure and cloth.

Biting back a wail and a set of fresh tears, you watched the monkey demon firmly tie off the end of the makeshift bandage.

It had been such a simple thing to do- but you still cherished him for it all the same.

How you’ve come to cherish your precious mentor, who stares down at you now with a strange smile.

Lifting a sleeve to your puffy eyes, an effort is made to stand up- only for Macaque to push you back down.

“I don’t think you’re steady enough for that just yet, kiddo.” Base words to convince you to do as he says, and you believe him. You always do.

Have you ever not believed him? Even for a moment, has there ever been any doubt in your heart?

He wraps the crimson scarf a little tighter around you, making sure that it covers your shoulders and neck.

“Now, what’d you bring all the way out here? You really should know better than to carry such a fancy bag in a neighborhood like this, kiddo.”

Was this all your fault?

Maybe you should’ve wrapped the mooncakes up in something less appealing- grabbed one of the disposable plastic brown sacks from a grocery store before heading in.

How easy would that have been?

“I wanted to share a meal with you,” is the dull response you give, newly downcast and despondent. “I brought mooncakes and tea.”

“Aww, aren’t you just a gem? Just the nicest.”

Nice. Anyone can be nice, can’t they? But it’s a lot harder to be clever or strong or capable.

Maybe he’d be happier with a different student.

Maybe if you were less nice and more-

“C’mon, kiddo- are you eating or not?”

He’s already got everything ready, the mooncakes strewn across his coffee table, the bottles of tea in the microwave.

Strange. You never even saw him get up.

He notices your questioning eyes, and quickly shifts the subject.

“Real sweet of you to bring this all the way out- I’m guessing you got a good deal, if you brought all of this?”

“Y-yeah! Yeah, I, uh, I’ve been using an app that tells me about local deals, y’know? Saves some money, and, um, all that.”

“Smart,” he praises, and a rush of euphoria races through you at just that one word. It feels almost pathetic to rely so heavily on someone’s praise to feel good about yourself. Still, you can’t help but adore each moment he breaks from his reserved norm and drops an honest compliment.

“Go put your stuff up and get changed, kiddo. I’ll pour the tea and get cushions.”

An actual sit-down meal with your mentor! You wouldn’t just be snacking and chatting on the couch this time!

Jumping to your feet, you excitedly race to the guest room, painted in a smooth purple and decorated with black curtains. He had essentially given it to you, letting you settle in with him at least semi-permanently.

A shelf right next to your bed is stocked with mementos, most of them memories you’ve shared with Macaque. A little snap-together set you had convinced him to put together with you, a bright mecha built from colorful blocks. By the end of the build, you had learned that he’d much rather watch than try to fiddle pieces together with his claws.

A framed photo beside it of something that Macaque had enjoyed much more- pumpkin carving. In place of a serrated knife or design card, he had taken great joy in simply shredding precise diamonds into the thick orange hide of the vegetable. The carved gourd had looked something like a lantern by the end of his fun. It had even put him a good enough mood to allow for a photo to be taken.

And you had a photo of you, MK, and Mister Pigsy to put up, but-

Enough reminiscing! Your mentor is waiting for you, after all.

You throw on the coziest thing you have in the closet- an old nightgown, long abraded to softness. Black as night and cool to the touch, decorated with purple cloud embroidery. And it never seemed to stop smelling of plums, a scent you had grown familiar with very quickly.

You aren’t quite sure where it came from, or when you got it- just that it’s a few sizes too big and pools around you comfortably.

Shoes off, bag placed carefully in the corner, and then you’re racing back out to meet Macaque in the living room.

You don’t notice two golden-eyed figures slinking out of the shadows and into your room.

The coffee table is prepared, the bottled tea is poured into mugs and the mooncakes are laid out two by two. He’s even put your little sitting cushion beside his instead of across.

You quickly take your seat, Macaque’s hand coming to ruffle your hair.

“Are we ‘expanding my horizons’ again today, kiddo? An ice cream day wasn’t enough?”

“I want you to try nice things,” is your protest, causing his golden eyes to soften.

“That’s… sweet of you,” he admits, folding his arms. “Really, Y/N.”

“…yeah,” you awkwardly respond, grabbing one of the napkins Macaque had set out. You grab one of the mooncakes and wrap it, then pass it to your mentor. “Do you, uh, know what’s inside this one?”

The sable simian lifts the pastry to his nose, sniffing intently. Quickly, his face scrunches up. “Tsk. More ice cream? Not in all of them, I’m hoping. Unless you’re trying to give me cavities, kiddo.”

“No, there’s only four with ice cream- and we’ve got two of them right now. I know you don’t like your food too sweet.”

“You’re a good kid,” he chuckles, biting into the mooncake. Vanilla ice cream leaks from the middle, oozing onto his tongue.

In turn you munch on your own, slowly leaning your head onto his shoulder.

Macaque doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your form, yanking you closer.

“You’re a good kid,” he says again, an ancient look in his golden eyes. There’s a newfound contentedness in them, and a pang of something much darker boiling underneath that new satisfaction. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

Swallowing down the last bit of the sweet pastry, you nod. “Sure, Macaque.”

“Nothing big- just I wanna know how you feel about me, kiddo.”

…something is scraping around in the room Macaque has fixed up for you.

“Keep looking,” a quiet and steady voice says. “They wouldn’t have just left it anywhere.”

“Shut up,” another angrily returns. “Don’t tell me what to do, Rumble! You’re lucky that I’m even helping you!”

“…you’re the one who wanted to come in here and look, Savage.”

“Shut up! Hurry up and throw me their bag!”

With a groan, Rumble carries your backpack to his ‘brother’ and drops it in front of him.

“Be quick,” he cautiously reminds. “Those mooncakes won’t last forever.”

“…I didn’t find the book,” Savage snarls, his crimson fingers hitting glass.

“But I did find something.”

And slowly, he pulls out the photo of you and your friends.

[quarterlifekitty]

Simon puts the plank on display once you're done with it. During the winter you run around town in the scarf* he knitted using scrap yarn from your projects.

*That thing is so uneven you don't know if it even classifies as a scarf. It's barely rectangular. (You cherish it deeply.)

For the love of god! Someone teach this man about felting!

[cumulo-stratus]

hi sweet max!

I’m here to drop in a request for Aaron x bau!reader, where reader’s just noticing all the little things Aaron does for them in their day to make it better and easier and how THOUGHTFUL HE IS, like maybe he buys their favourite drinks to stock the fridge on the jet and in the office, making sure that their keyboard at their desk is always charged bc he’s there so late at night and he knows they’d forget. maybe he picks them up in the mornings to make sure they get to work on time. Just him trying his hardest to help them out in teeny tiny ways that make a big difference? sorry if this is long or boring I can try something else but yeah! He’s just so cute and thoughtful. Also masc or gn reader is fine, whichever you prefer!! <3

The Little Things

Request- yes/no

Pairing- Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Summary- you notice all the little things Aaron does for you everyday (could be read as romantic or platonic)

warnings- like one use of y/n, fear of flying, mentions of eating/not eating

A/N- Rooommmee!!!! Thank you for this absolutely lovely request, I hade SO much fun writing this, and I may have gotten a little bit carried away😅! But anyways he would SO do that- he's a gentleman fs!! Love u Rome 🫶🫶

wc- 2k

Despite the bright, morning light shining through the large rectangular windows, you still yawned for what must’ve been the fifth time in just as many minutes. In your defense the team had wrapped up a case pretty late the night before. Which meant by the time you were in bed and asleep, it was only a couple hours until your alarm went off to go back to work again the next morning. 

Spencer had arrived around the same time as you—you both took public transit to work— so he pushed open one of the large glass doors marking the entrance of the BAU. Both you and Reid offered each other warm, but tired smiles as he let you go ahead of him, holding the door. 

coincidentally, you both start making your way to the small kitchenette in the corner of the large bullpen. since you hadn’t had any coffee yet, you B-lined straight for the old, barely functioning coffee maker. Gideon had refused to get a new one when Garcia mentioned getting a keurig, stating that all the new ones these days were too fancy- a coffee maker did not need a screen. So that's how you ended up with a coffee pot with stains and knicks all over it from constant use. But what you noticed when you approached it wasn't the coffee maker itself. But what was sitting next to it. 

your snoopy mug!

you couldn't help but break out into a grin at the sight of your favorite mug, it was white with an image of the little white dog, sitting on top of his little house in his signature aviator goggles, hat, and a red scarf. Except the bright red scarf trailed out behind him and morphed into the handle of the mug.

Reid noticed your excitement as he poured his own mug of coffee. The pot was about ¾ full, Hotch and Morgan having already got to it. “Nice mug” Reid commented with a smile as he stirred what must’ve been at least 2 tablespoons of sugar. You thought he was smiling because it was a cute mug—which it was—but Spencer was mostly smiling because he had noticed hotch watching from the window of his office. 

Aarons face had one of his rare smiles that actually reached his eyes. He couldn’t help but blush as he watched you fawn over the mug to Reid. A couple minutes later, after Reid had left for his desk, you made eye contact with Aaron, smiling. Then, if he hadn’t gotten the point already, you took a sip of the hot coffee- which you had forgotten was still hot and scrunched your face in pain. It had burned your tongue, causing you to stick your tongue out in pain. Aaron laughed at the silent scene he watched unfold, but you didn't notice as you had already shook it off and walked to your desk. 

Only minutes after you had settled into your desk, JJ stood on the raised walkway above the bullpen, calling for everyone to meet in the round table room. They had a case. You a bit reluctantly, heaved yourself up from your chair, the weight of sleep still wearing off. Derek chuckled, and gave your arm a playful shove. As you walked by Spencer's desk, Morgan mussed with his hair to get his attention, as he was so absorbed in his book that he hadn’t heard JJ announce the case. 

“Come on pretty boy, we got a case-“ Morgan didn’t finish his sentence before you had sped ahead to catch up with Aaron as he made his way to the round table room. “Thanks for the cereal bar by the way, I forgot breakfast on the way out again.” You spoke casually, barely even making eye contact with him, as this was a normal occurrence. You often arrive at work to find a cereal bar, or pastry on your desk with a little note on it. They were usually Aaron reminding you how important it was to eat. 

“you need to eat breakfast you know y/n, it’ll affect your abilities in cases if you're not careful you know” you just rolled your eyes at Aarons comment, he was often very protective in that way. Although it was a bit annoying sometimes, you mostly found it endearing. It showed that he cared. 

Instead of responding to Aaron’s comment, you just took a bite of your cereal bar as you sat down. JJ started going over the case, 3 women in Wisconsin were missing and presumed dead after days of searching. 

”wheels up” hotch called to the team, and everyone almost immediately dispersed to get themselves ready to leave. 

—

As everyone filed onto the plane and took their seats, you followed Aaron, as you and he often bounced ideas of each other well. And for one other reason. but no one else, not even Emily, your best friend (only second to Aaron), knew about it except for you two. 

You had a fear of flying, take off and landing in particular always freaked you out. You knew it wasn't a good phobia to have, considering how much flying you had to do for your job, but you couldn’t help it. That’s where Aaron came in, you would always sit next to him at the tables, and he would always offer you his hand under the table. He never said anything about it, and no one ever noticed. but every flight a minute or so before takeoff and landing he would rest his hand palm up on your thigh in a silent offering of comfort. and every flight for a minute or so after take off and landing he would keep your hand in his, letting you play with his fingers knowing it often helped you ground yourself and refocus. 

That day he offered a small smile along with his hand when no one else was looking. Morgan and Reid were arguing, JJ was scolding them, Rossi was reading a book, and Emily was getting herself a cup of tea. You decided to get yourself something too, after take off of course when the plane was safely en route to wisconsin.

When you approached the tiny kitchenette of the jet the first thing that came to mind was something snarky, like cheetos. JJ always kept them stocked. But then you noticed your favorite as you scanned the small cupboard, cheddar pringle’s! They were cheesy, crunchy and salty- aka the perfect chip. You immediately grabbed them and tore off the lid, excited to eat the crunchy chips. You had only had coffee and a cereal bar to eat so far that day. Aaron watched you walk back to your seat with a contented smile on your face and a small bounce to your step.

When you arrived at your seat you didn't hesitate to plop down next to Aaron and take a big bite of chips. He couldn’t help but laugh a bit at your obsession with the salty snack and decided to comment, knowing he had put them there last case, noticing they didn't have any. 

“oh, looks like you found your favorite, how nice-“ his smile was almost sly and you noticed. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots that he had restocked them, he often did. And they were often your favorites, your favorite energy drink in the fridge, your favorite protein bars in the cupboard, and your favorite snacks on the jet. 

—

After a long day of profiling in Wisconsin, the team had ordered take out and decided to all sit together around the large table in the conference room that had been provided by the local police department. 

You sat with Aaron to your left, and Derek to your right. THere were 2 trays of food in the middle and various smaller dishes surrounding it. Most of the team was still discussing the case as they served themselves from the various dishes. 

You were the last person to serve yourself, as you had been too absorbed in a conversation with Aaron about where he got his many, very, nice suits. You had learned that Aaron Hotchner gets all of his suits tailored. 

After lots of discussion, and some slightly subpar asian food, the team was ready to get back to work, it was only 9 o’clock, and they were all pretty much workaholics. So reid went back to his many colored markers and his geo-profile. For whatever reason, you hadn’t been able to sleep very well the night before, and due to that you were practically falling asleep standing up. You had moved from sitting into a standing position in order to keep yourself awake a little more. 

It wasn't working. And Hotch noticed this. Aaron used his legs to push up and out of his office chair away from the table to where you were standing about a foot away. He tapped your shoulder to get your attention before speaking. Your head snapped towards him, surprised, as if you hadn’t even noticed him approaching in your trance-like state.

”y/n, you should go back to the hotel, you're no use if you're not clear headed. The team will benefit from you much more if you just get some rest and come tomorrow morning”. You almost immediately tried to protest leaving, but a stern look from Aaron put any protests to rest. Even when you really wanted to protest the idea of him driving you to the hotel, since in his words “you're in no condition to drive, I don't need an agent in a car crash and 3 dead women”. Eventually you had accepted it, as you were too tired to care by the time you and Aaron were on the road to the hotel. 

Aaron left the radio on, playing quietly in the background so the silence wouldnt be awkward. But, number one, you were already half asleep by the time he started driving, and number two, the silence was never awkward with Aaron, you felt comfortable with him.

When you arrived at the hotel, hotch shook your shoulder lightly and you jumped awake saying, “Im awake! I'm here! I'm ready..” before trailing off and yawning. Hotch chuckled as he walked around the car to open your door for you, inviting you to step out in front of him. He walked with you to the elevator and pushed the button for you, always a gentleman. 

When you finally got into your room after struggling with the key for a minute, you flopped face down on your bed with a groan as Aaron watched from the doorway. When he noticed the lamp on he immediately started crossing the room to turn it off, so you could sleep. 

After the lamp was turned off, and Aaron was sure you were okay, and fast asleep, he left for his room in order to change his shirt as he had spilled soy sauce on it at dinner. After making his way to his room down the hall and fumbling with his own key, Aaron made it into his own room to pull out a new shirt. After the long process of taking off his tie and jacket, switching shirts, and putting his tie and jacket back on, he turned off the lamp on the desk near the door. Aaron shut the door behind him quietly so as to not disturb anyone at 10:00 at night.

At first he continued past your room, but then two steps later he changed his mind, turning on his heels back down the hall. He wanted to make sure you were alright one last time before he went back to the police precinct. He had made sure to get a copy of everyone’s room key when they checked in, in case of emergencies. And it wasn’t exactly an emergency, but if you didn't tell, Aaron wouldn't. 

When the door clicked open quietly, light from the hallway bled into the dark room. In front of him lay your sound asleep body, still in its work clothes, passed out face down on the hotel bed. Aaron couldn't help but smile as he approached you, bending down to your level. When his face was level with yours he left a small kiss on your cheek, before retreating back into the well lit hallway and into the night. 

The End

[georgiainvestigators]

Will Trent rewatch – the ‘Faith Mitchell Hairdos in Every Episode’ Edition – episode 1x03

Image ID: screenshots of Faith Mitchell’s Hairdo from episode 1x03 of Will Trent. Her hair is divided into several rectangular sections, then twisted, and twists are pulled up into three big buns. From the front and from the side they form a Frohawk. End ID.

Bonus:

Image ID: In the evening Faith has her buns down and her hair is protected from damage during sleep by a silk scarf. End ID.

[chinesehanfu]

[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese Song Dynasty (960–1279 AD)Traditional Clothing Hanfu Reference to Song Dynasty Sculpture

【Historical Reference Artifacts】:

China Song Dynasty Painted Sculpture from【Jin Temple】晋祠宋代彩塑

▶️【About Hairstyle“包髻/Bao Ji”】: It is one of the hairstyles of ancient Han women.

包髻/Bao Ji is a hairstyles that use rectangular headscarf to cover the hair. When worn, it is folded diagonally, wrapped from the front to the back, and then wrapped around the corner of the scarf to the front of the forehead to tie a knot.

As early as the Tang Dynasty(618-907 AD), there was a prototype of this hairstyle, and it became popular in the Song Dynasty.

Women in the Ming Dynasty(1368-1644 AD) liked to use black gauze to make this hairstyle and this kind of hairstyle survived until the last dynasty of China: the Qing Dynasty.

[unopenablebox]

think my next cast on might be this thing adapted into a rectangular scarf, for 🌸