#or are the colors the only weird thing about them

[ivorivet]

Fellowship Cloak Weaving Draft

Hi all! I've been kind of quiet on this blog, but I have something really exciting to share today: after six years, I FINALLY figured out the weaving draft for the Fellowship cloaks from Lord of the Rings.

This is a problem I've been trying to figure out since shortly after I made my Legolas cosplay in 2018. The cloaks that the nine members of the Fellowship receive in Lothlórien look like a nondescript gray fabric from far away, but zoom in and you'll see a very complex pattern of horizontal and vertical bars of dark gray and white.

(First image from Alleycatscratch, second is a photo of the scarf of the same fabric I bought from Stansborough where I was attempting to trace the pattern repeat with orange thread)

This is going to be a long post, so I'm just going to lead with the completed draft:

Imagine me Will Smith wife posing at this for the last 24 hours.

It's got the correct size of pattern repeat! It's got the five individual ripples! It's got that dumb little pattern break in the middle that breaks up the center of the leaf motif! I am OVER THE MOON about figuring this out, especially starting out with very little knowledge about weaving drafts in general. More ramblings about this type of draft and my thought process below:

This particular pattern is known as "shadow weave," a subset of color-and-weave where the pattern is created from the interplay of different warp and weft colors plus the weaving draft itself. To get an idea of how that works, let's start by looking at plain weave in one color:

The solid purple bar at the top indicates the color of the warp threads, and the solid purple bar at the right indicates the color of the weft threads. So far we've got our basic under-over-under-over pattern in a single, solid color (purple). But what if we add an additional color (green) to the warp, and alternate those colors? Then we'd get a speckled fabric like this:

The visual effect looks pretty much identical regardless of if you start with green or purple. However, if you also alternate purple and green in the weft, it produces a very different effect depending on if you start with purple or green (note the differences in the bar on the right):

So cool, now we can make either vertical or horizontal stripes! If you double up on the colored threads in some areas, you can even flip between the two and start dividing the fabric into "blocks," like so:

Note that with all these changes, the only thing we've been doing is changing the order of the colors in the warp and weft. The actual weave structure itself is still just regular ol' plain weave. The pattern that we've created in the pictures above is called "log cabin," which you can read about here. But similar effects can be created by skipping shafts/picks in the weaving draft as well. So how do we get from log cabin into the more complicated and general category of shadow weave?

It's weird to describe how to convert a given pattern into shadow weave. There are multiple very good books with chapters on shadow weave as well as books entirely dedicated to it. Despite my best efforts, all these explanations still got so technical so fast it feels like, to me at least, asking a 6 year old to recite an entire Shakespeare play verbatim immediately after confirming that they can, in fact, sing the alphabet song. So I'm going to give my best shot at explaining it, and if it doesn't make sense, just blame it on me and check out some of the linked books above if you're really curious.

Think of shadow weave as a beauty filter for a black and white drawing. If you create a pattern out of black and white blocks/pixels/whatever, the shadow weave "filter" can be applied to it to create a similar pattern that preserves the shapes in the original, but makes them out of vertical/horizontal lines instead of solid color blocks. So in some of these books you'll find mention of converting a twill or an overshot pattern into shadow weave - that's what this is referencing. The original pattern (usually designated with light yarn) gets a secondary shadow pattern (in dark yarn) inserted into in between every other thread (also called an "end" when referencing warp yarns).

I got stuck at this point for literal years. I could find examples of weaving drafts using shadow weave, but couldn't figure out how to generate ones of my own. I imported some of the drafts I found in books into weaving software and poked around to see if I could push the patterns in the direction I wanted by changing individual elements. My experiments in changing individual warp ends and weft picks always ended up looking like stretched or compressed versions of the original pattern (when I was being careful), or incomprehensible garbage (when I was being daring). I even bought a sample of the fabric from Stansborough in the form of a scarf, thinking I could brute force it by using a magnifying glass to figure out the interlacements. I was able to figure out how large the pattern repeat was (approximately 160 x 80 ends), but otherwise I got nothing but eye strain. I ended up tabling the project and coming back to it every couple years, banging my head against it until I gave up.

Until one day last week when I was flipping through the Strickler book and saw this page:

And I was like

HOLD UP

IT'S HER

...or at least a close cousin of her. BUT IT WAS A START.

So the first step was to identify what about this pattern needed to change in order to make this look like the Fellowship cloak. Overall, the main differences were:

Pattern repeat on Strickler 304 was too small - it was 42 x 42 ends and I needed it to be somewhere in the ballpark of 80 x 80 before altering the repeat.

The Fellowship pattern has a weird vertical dividing line that runs down the middle of the leaf motif, effectively doubling the width of the repeat by creating two similar looking but different leaves. This was the change I was least concerned about, as flipping between vertical and horizontal lines is pretty a straightforward process as shown above with the log cabin draft.

Strickler 304 also has a different number of waves (peaks and valleys, or whatever you want to call them) compared to the Fellowship pattern. There are 3 waves in Strickler and 5 in Fellowship. Figuring out how to add these extra waves was the biggest obstacle for me to address.

And finally, a couple of things I didn't need to care about for the weaving draft: 1) the Fellowship pattern is elongated in the warp direction, but this has more to do with a little extra spacing between weft picks as compared to the warp threads. When weaving this you'd just need to make sure you don't beat it very hard and you'll get that tall rectangle shape instead of a square repeat. 2) Both patterns have mirrored symmetry around a diagonal line drawn through the center, meaning that for treadling I could "tromp as writ" or basically just mirror the threading diagram to get the treadling instructions. For reasons I can't figure out, the Strickler pattern isn't exactly tromp as writ but looks close enough to it that the effect is still there. But I don't really care enough to figure out why - the important thing is that it gives us a threading diagram to start with!

So to start with, here's what Strickler 304 looks like in my weaving software:

(By the way, this is Fiberworks PCW Bronze. The trial version is free, and the only difference between that and the paid version is that the save/print options are disabled. I'm not sure they know about screenshots, bless their hearts.)

This is a design for 8 shafts and 8 treadles, thus the 8x8 square in the upper right corner. And you can see in the threading diagram (upper horizontal bar) and treadling diagram (right bar) that the curvature of the waves takes a similar shape to the curves of the final pattern. We just have to figure out why. And since I had already tried changing individual warp ends and treadling patterns without much success, I needed to approach in a different way.

What ended up helping me see the forest for the trees was de-shadowifying the pattern. It's relatively easy to get the black-and-white version of the pattern from the threading draft - you just need to delete the shadow, which means removing every other warp end. This is what deleting all the dark ends from the warp and light ends from the weft looks like:

We can also see with a little more detail how the threading diagram is similar to the curve in the pattern. The pattern is 21 pixels tall, but it's been chopped up to repeat over 8 shafts, like so:

OKAY COOL COOL COOL. EVERYTHING'S COMIN' UP MILHOUSE IVORIVET. From this green squiggly line we know two things:

The final number of warp ends in the shadow weave pattern is double whatever the height of the squiggle is. In the case of the Strickler pattern, we're going from 21 to 42. Since we know that we need our final height for the Fellowship pattern needs to be 80, the squiggle for that pattern needs to be around 40 pixels tall.

We needed to stitch three repeats of the Strickler threading diagram together in order to see the full squiggle. How many waves does the Strickler pattern have? Three. How many waves does the Fellowship pattern need? Five. How many shafts do we have to work on? Eight. What is 5 x 8? 40!!!

So how about we make a NEW squiggle, only 40 pixels high instead of 21? (We're gonna drop the pixels in blue, since threading diagrams won't work if you put a single end through two shafts.)

Next, we're going to chop up that squiggle and use it to create a new threading diagram in Fiberworks. I'm also using "tromp as writ" here to create the treadling pattern.

LOOK AT THAT. IT'S GOT MORE WAVES!! FIVE OF THEM!

And then we add back in the shadow by creating a space for a new end between each existing end:

And then add in the shadow. I'm using 4 as my number for the shadow offset since we're using 8 shafts. So shaft 1 shadows to shaft 5, shaft 2 shadows to shaft 6, etc.

And we're going to apply tromp as writ again to get:

AYYYYYY WE'RE GETTING CLOSE! I'm fairly certain that the reason why the Strickler treadling wasn't exactly tromp as writ had something to do with centering the pattern repeat a little more than this, but I don't really care about that so I'm going to leave this treadling the way that it is.

From here out, we need at add that weird vertical dividing line that chops up the center of the leaves. So we double the pattern repeat along the horizontal axis, and offset a 40 pixel section in the middle of the threading diagram by 1 pixel. I've also colored in the differences between the dark and light ends to help differentiate the original and shadowed curves a little bit more. (I also tried offsetting the colors of the warp ends by 1 as well like what we did in the log cabin example, but I ended up liking the way that this looked more.)

THERE SHE IS!!! MY PRECIOUS!!

From here on out, there is still a ton of work I need to do if I actually want to weave this cloak from scratch. I did buy roving in quantities that could be used to spin both the dark and light yarn (dark gray Gotland for the dark yarn, and dove gray merino + white alpaca for the light yarn), but there's still the matter of, like, handspinning a cloak's quantity of extremely fine yarn. I did start spinning the Gotland several years ago as fine as I could possibly manage, and got through maybe 20 ounces of it. However, I'm a much better spinner now and I'm not sure if the my skeins from several years ago would be suitable for weaving, or if it would be worth replicating what I did back then vs. just starting over with a new standard. There's also the possibility of just... buying weaving yarn if I want to skip that step, which would definitely save me a significant amount of time.

Anyway, thanks for reading this far and I hope it helped break down why this was so exciting for me!

[sqgeism]

Amphoreus men with reader who has insomnia? Maybe they have perpetual eye bags and can fall asleep literally anywhere but in bed

Hope you're doing well

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 he'd stay and treat his lady | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌     —      ; give everything to his new baby !  sleep is hard, or at least it has been on specifically your bed, as of recently. despite concerns raised by your boyfriend, he finds it a little funny. considering the fact that you've not only managed to fall asleep in the garden of your home, but some chimera's have somehow found you.

love mail — did i put 5 requests together.. yes... 5 birds with ONE STONE 🩷🩷 but they all had similar prompts so i just put 'em all together :3 sorry individual anons that you won't get the notif i answered !! i love u guys, thank you for requesting anonnies f(^ー^; ♡ please forgive my laziness i swear i'll lock in. ACTUALLY had to drink two mountain dews writing this bc i could not force myself to finish this within the day if i didnt

anaxa doesn't know what to do after he finds you asleep on top the coffee table, which is right in front of the very comfy couch you two bought.

he knows you and him are busy, the academy has been working the professors overtime recently and you teach multiple subjects to multiple classes, so it's no wonder you're practically restless. it's just.. he wishes you could sleep in bed again. when you do get the opportunity for shut eye, it'll always be somewhere stupid. his least favorite was on your desk, as being hunched over like that can have long lasting back pains as a consequence (trust him, he knows)

so when one night, expecting to see you on the counters or atop the fridge, anaxa's natural frown deepens at the realization you don't seem to be sleeping in any unconventional place. have you finally relearned the skill to sleep in bed again? nope.. not quite, since the sheets are flat and untouched.

where on amphoreus are you?

that's when his train of thought is interrupted by little chitters outside, *the garden?* animals aren't typically seen around your home, but he supposes that it isn't impossible. but that's also the one place he hasn't checked, and if he's a moment too late to you getting mauled by.. whatever's out there, anaxa doesn't feel like losing another eye in hopes to see a loved one. though something that makes such a cute noise can't be too harmful.

and as always, anaxa is almost never incorrect. because there you are, in all your genius, asleep in the middle of the freshly cut garden with.. chimera's around you?

the little things are slipping into your coat, or rubbing themselves against your sleeping body. they seemed to think you'd give them attention, but they were just helping you fall deeper into sleep. fluffy balls of sweetness acted like a warm blanket, and you stood no chance, even with your issues with sleep.

and here anaxa is, having to deal with your antics for the millionth time. but if it was an issue—he'd be complaining, and even if he does, you know he doesn't mean it. like this very moment; "you're so weird," the scholar grumbles under his breath, yet he's careful as he approaches, careful to not startle you or the chimeras. "—i can't believe i have to deal with you." while he takes off his coat and covers you, all while he slowly carries you into his lap on the grass, settling you down comfortably to lean against him. "and you're just.. the worst."

he says these things while you're now asleep on him, his arms securely around you and keeping you close to support your body. if you were awake, surely you'd be teasing him about how affectionate he's choosing to be at the moment. and it seems the chimera's have gotten comfy too, the colorful critters beginning to yawn as he runs his fingers through your hair.

he wants to think he hates you for distracting him from his greater goal, for softening him up. for making him afraid to lose again.

but he can't, not when you're here and you wear the ring that reminds him of his promise. his promise to love you for however long he has and for far longer past death. his prophecy is neverchanging, but so is his love. and his legacy after death will never be truly told if your name is not mentioned alongside his.

mydei gets it. honestly, he does. sleep doesn't come easy to any of them, but mydei knows you're not exactly a heir. you're mortal, and you need things that he doesn't quite understand but he tries to. when he began catching you still up long past 2am, whether your nose buried in a book or eating leftovers from dinner, it worries him. he tries to soothe you back to sleep, but nothing works. and he has to watch you walk out that door with clearly not enough energy to function.

and it's the same thing tonight, he's laying on the couch with a novel in hand as you walk over to him. the time? 12:48 am. mydei wants to hide his unpleased expression, but he's sure his eyes narrow and his brows furrow slightly, however they're quick to melt into a much more tender expression as you move between his legs to lay on his chest, huffing.

"i'm tired, mydei." your voice is weak, and you feel limp on top of him. it actually causes somewhat discomfort to the warrior for a moment, as the feeling of a body on top of him is not foreign.. unfortunately. "i wish i could sleep. i really.. really do."

your hands ball into fists out of frustration, a trembling breath escaping you. but large, careful hands go over yours. breaking down that fist as he intertwines his fingers between the gap of yours, a perfect fit, as your two hearts are. "i don't know how i can help, but if i can find something, i'll be sure to tell you as soon as possible."

his lips softly kiss your forehead. "but i'm here. every night, and day, just come to me when it's too much." then he kisses each of your eyelids, and to mydei's surprise.. they don't open after he moves away. and you've fallen asleep, after a week of restlessness, you're brought into a dream state from kisses.

the chrysos heir would laugh, but he chooses to let you rest, rubbing soothing circles to your back as he waits for day to come.

phainon.. oh.. phainon... he's been so worried about the whole thing. he's gotten you some sleep medication, which does work, but he wants you to be able to sleep without them again. especially since there are times where you purposefully don't take them, and he has to find out when he comes home at 11pm and you're still up.

although tonight, when you're the one that comes home late, he's quick to catch on to the clear fatigue that's caught up with you. "baby?"

"work was horrible." you grumble, slugging towards him seated at the dining table before making yourself comfortable on the nearest chair (him). "i missed you, and i'm tired."

you feel his laugh echo in his throat, hands on your thighs pull you closer, before they move to your waist and stay there, humming teasingly. "i'm sorry to hear that, honey. you need anything? there's some dinner if you're hungry. i'll heat it up for you." he offers, caressing your form as you shake your head. what a touchy chair.

"i just wanna be able to sleep normally again, phai." you yawn, but you know well enough that your body will still refuse to rest. you forgot to stop by a pharmacy before going home, and you've run out of your sleeping meds. "i know, and you will soon baby. don't make your pretty head hurt any more than it already is, alright?" he dips down to kiss you tenderly with great passion. hey, if you can't sleep, he'll at least try to make the moments you're awake enjoyable. his left hand cups your cheek in order to tilt your head, his own shifting the opposite way to deepen the exchange of love. "you're alright, honey." he murmurs against your lips, pressing one last peck before he smiles. "i know you'll bounce back, you always do."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[rist-ix]

Might end up redoing this one, but here's Stella's redesign!

Except I couldn’t settle on a color combination, so pls have three more:

We have, in order: saturated oranges and purple gradients, pale oranges and purple gradients, and finally saturated oranges with green gradients. I am not 100% happy with any of them, but I’ve changed them around so much that I’ve given up now. Also I am once again abusing that shiny bubble brush for the background.

Stella's canon redesign, I wasn’t too unhappy with in the trailer, but am absolutely APPALLED by in this final shot. Not only does it melt into the background like she's Stella, the Fairy of Camouflage and Making Me Squint, something about the lighting is bothering me as well. If this were an illustration I would say that they shaded her skirt with black, which is beginner mistake number 1. I don’t know if it’s the VFX of those solar flares (which also look like a flat yellow brush without any glow effects) or my eyesight, but I find it hard to see any detail in her costume. But let’s scrap all the post processing, and focus only on her outfit.

As @wearethewinx has pointed out in her analysis post, the shoes don’t match any color in her outfit. They do seem to be matching the pink in her wings, but it’s hard to tell, and even then, the peachy yellow they fade into remains the only instance of that color.

I like what they were going with for the top! The different halters create visual interest, and mimic the shape of light beams from a rising sun. Where it falls apart to me is the shoulder pads. Just like Bloom's, they look too thin and fabric-y to be armor, but not decorative enough to work as accessories. They actually cut into the shape of those light-beam halters, but since they’re not thick enough to overlap, they just kind of… intersect weirdly? There are so many oddly placed ribbons around her shoulders and neck that don’t really serve any purpose, and I’m not sure where most of them are going. Her lower arms are completely bare though, which is where I miss Stella's silver little wrist bracers from the original.

I also think the colors are. VERY saturated. Her hair doesn’t give a lot of contrast and I’m having trouble telling where her top ends and her hair begins. I feel like I’m staring into a microwave. Or at molten iron. Though I’m not really one to speak here I know I know

The only thing I really fixed in my redesign is adding the silver-blue accents. With her yellow hair and the orange outfit, you need something cold and shiny to balance it out, in my opinion. I tried incorporating that sunbeam shape into her silver halters, and gave her the pigtails back because that’s an ICONIC silhouette rainbow, STOP RUNNING FROM YOUR OWN GENIUS. Plus it gives more room between her orange outfit and her hair.

I tried to make her OG wings more moon-shaped. I failed. If I have to redo them one more time I will cry.

The part I’m actually proud of is the greens in her sleeves, if I’m being honest. It looks a little weird, and the sleeve itself also doesn’t really scream Stella to me, but it does look very bright and luminous. Plus, green is not something that’s usually in Stella's transformation, so I feel like I’m expanding my horizon a little.

All in all, not the redesign I’m proudest of, but it’ll do.

Also:

Get that goddamn rattle orb away from me. What’s she gonna do, bonk Knut on the head with this???

[deezee112]

The Birthday Doll

Masterlist | Ending 1

Yandere!Platonic!Twisted Wonderland x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : I’ve decided to combine both the prologue and the first two episodes into one because I’m lazy yes, I admit it! But overall, I think it turned out pretty well. The writing might be a little confusing since I’ve been feeling kinda out of it lately, plus I’ve been busy with stuff at home. Still, I think it’s okay.

Oh, and one more thing! Most of the guys’ endings will be randomized, so whether they get a good or bad ending totally depends on what I roll.

Warning : Child reader , platonic yandere , lifelike doll. , Parental neglect , loneliness , y/n taller than 160 cm.

Tags :

@sherryclover

English is not my first language.

It’s your birthday.

You woke up hoping something would feel different. Special, even. But the house still smelled like dust and reheated coffee, and the same early morning silence pressed against the walls like always.

You sat at the kitchen table, legs dangling off the too-tall chair, waiting for the sound of footsteps or maybe even just a voice. But only the hum of the refrigerator answered you.

Your parents had already left.

You found the note on the counter in your mother’s familiar, rushed handwriting.

“ Happy birthday, sweetie. There’s cereal in the cabinet. We’ll be home late tonight, but your gift should be delivered around 2. We love you. ”

There was a smiley face at the end, drawn so perfectly it didn’t feel like hers at all.

You read the note twice before folding it up and tucking it into your hoodie pocket.

You don’t cry. That’s not new. You’ve learned to expect this kind of birthday. Quiet. Empty. No candles, no wrapping paper ripped open while people cheer, no clapping over a misshapen cake. Just cereal and silence and maybe a screen if you’re lucky.

You were never a loud child. Too quiet, your teachers used to say. “ y/n very polite, very reserved. A bit shy, maybe. ” That’s how adults say you’re not the kind of kid they understand.

Other kids don’t really talk to you much either. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re bad at talking first or if they just think you’re weird. Probably both. You’ve heard them whisper about you before things like “ she’s kind of scary ” or “ she doesn’t smile much, does she? ”

You’ve tried to make friends. Once or twice. But it never really stuck. So you stopped trying.

At exactly 2:03 p.m., there’s a knock at the door.

You hesitate. You weren’t expecting someone to actually show up. Your heart picks up a little as you approach the door and peek through the peephole.

There’s a delivery man outside. Average height. Wears a uniform. Bored expression. No one you know. You open the door, and he gestures to something behind him a tall, rectangular package on a wheeled dolly, wrapped in thick, silver-colored material.

“ Delivery for y/n l/n ” he says, reading off a clipboard. “ From…Hightower Corp.? ”

You just nod, not sure what else to say.

He has you sign something with a pen that barely works, then wheels the thing inside. It takes up most of the hallway. Almost as tall as the coat rack. When he leaves, the silence comes back. He doesn’t say happy birthday.

You close the door. Lock it. Then turn and just stare at the thing.

It’s a gift, you guess. It’s probably the one mother mentioned in the note. You wonder if it’s one of those expensive toys you saw on TV once. The ones that cost too much, look too real.

You wait for a few minutes before slowly tugging the plastic away.

What’s inside isn’t like the toys you’ve seen on television.

It looks like a person.

An adult. Life-sized. Fully dressed in soft clothes that look brand new. The face is still, eyes closed, with features so detailed you feel your stomach drop a little. Even the hair looks real soft, brushed neatly into place.

For a moment, you wonder if this is a prank. But it’s not funny.

You reach out and barely touch its sleeve with your fingertips. The fabric is warm.

That’s when the doll opens its eyes.

The eyes opened.

You screamed.

Not loud your scream barely got past your throat but it was sharp and real, the kind of sound you only make when something shakes your sense of what's supposed to be real.

You bolted.

Your feet thudded across the hallway floor as you ran past the shoe rack, past the empty living room with the turned-off TV, up the stairs two at a time. You didn’t look back. You didn’t want to look back.

You slammed your bedroom door shut and dove into bed, crawling under the covers like they were the only armor you had.

The fabric smelled faintly like the detergent your mom always uses. It used to make you feel safe. Right now, you weren’t sure if it was working.

Your heart raced. Your body felt too hot under the blanket, but you didn’t dare pull it down. You were eight years old. You knew dolls weren’t supposed to open their eyes. Not on their own. Not unless someone turned a switch or pressed a button.

You hadn’t touched anything.

Your hands clenched the blanket tighter.

You’d never had anything like this before. It wasn’t just a doll. It wasn’t just a toy. It was human. Or…it looked human. That was enough to terrify you.

Then…a sound.

Soft footsteps. They were careful, slow, quiet.

You held your breath.

The door creaked open just a little.

There was silence. Then something even stranger happened.

A voice.

“ Hello? ” it said, softly. “ Are you okay? ”

It was calm. Gentle. The way grown-ups talk in children’s books like someone reading aloud on a rainy night. It didn’t sound robotic or fake. It sounded…concerned.

But you didn’t answer.

The blanket muffled everything now. You curled up tighter, pressing your knees to your chest. You didn’t care if it was your birthday. You didn’t want anything like this.

You heard a small knock. Not from the door closer. Lower.

“ I’m sorry I scared you. I shouldn’t have moved so suddenly. ”

The voice was coming from the floor. Maybe just outside your door.

You peeked just a tiny bit pulling down the blanket an inch or two. Still no footsteps. No shouting. No threats.

Just…that voice. Soft. Gentle. Like it really meant it.

“ I’m here to keep you company. ” it said. “ I know I look strange. And I know you weren’t expecting me. ”

There was a pause. Then a breath.

“ I don’t want to hurt you. I just…I’d like to stay. If that’s alright. ”

You didn’t say anything for a long time.

You just listened.

The voice outside your room didn’t grow louder. It didn’t repeat itself. It didn’t try to open the door. It simply....waited.

Whoever or whatever this was, it didn’t act like a toy.

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. Your body still curled under the blanket, stiff and wired like a coiled spring, but your mind was starting to catch up.

It hadn’t chased you.

It hadn’t knocked down your door.

It hadn’t even moved since it came up the stairs.

That was…weird. But in a different way. In a quiet way. Maybe even a good way.

Another minute passed. Two. Then three. Still nothing.

Your fingers slowly loosened from the blanket’s edge. The panic hadn’t disappeared, not really but something else was growing in its place. Something softer.

Loneliness.

You turned your head toward the sound of the door and whispered, your voice small and muffled. “ ...You’re not gonna come in? ”

There was a brief silence.

Then the voice responded, gentle as ever. “ Only if you say I can. ”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure what to do with that. Most adults didn’t ask permission for things. Not teachers. Not your parents. Not anyone, really.

“ …Okay. ” you whispered.

The door creaked open just an inch, then another. Then slowly, slowly, the figure stepped into the room.

You peeked from under the covers.

It no, they stood quietly in the doorway. Still. Calm. Their posture relaxed, but not slouched. Their clothes were soft-looking. Pale-colored. Comfortable. Their face was kind, shaped like someone who might work at a bookstore or serve soup at a quiet café. Nothing too sharp or flashy. ( In fact, you can imagine them as whatever you want in your mind. )

They had a warmth to them, like a lamp turned on in the early evening.

You couldn’t believe how real they looked. How normal. The movement of their arms. The expression in their eyes. You stared at their hands as they clasped them gently in front, like they were waiting to be told what to do.

“ I can sit on the floor. ” they said, offering it like a gift. “ Or leave. Whatever you want. ”

“ …You can sit. ” you said, barely above a whisper.

They nodded. Then, without a word, they moved to the edge of the carpet and carefully lowered themself down, cross-legged. Like they didn’t want to scare you again.

Silence settled between you. But this time, it didn’t feel like the silence in the rest of the house. Not cold. Not empty. Just quiet.

You kept staring.

They didn’t look back. Not directly. They looked around the room instead at the posters on your walls, the pile of books near your bed, the toy you hadn’t touched in months.

They were giving you time.

After a while, you slid down from the bed, still wrapped in your blanket like a cocoon, and sat at the edge, watching.

“ …You’re not a real person. ” you said cautiously.

They looked up and smiled a little not with their mouth, but with their eyes.

“ No. Not in the way you mean. ”

“ Then what are you? ”

They thought about that. “ I’m…here to take care of you. ”

“ Like a babysitter? ”

They shook their head. “ Not quite. ”

“ …Like a friend? ”

A pause.

“ If that’s what you want me to be. ”

You stared at them for a long time.

You weren’t used to people asking what you wanted. Not really. You weren’t sure what to do with that kind of question. Most days, you felt like a side character in your own house someone to be left with instructions, not asked for opinions.

You pulled your blanket closer and thought hard.

“ …You scared me. ” you said finally.

“ I know. ” they replied. “ I’m sorry. ”

“ But you waited. ”

“ I wanted to make sure you felt safe. ”

You looked down at the blanket in your hands. Your fingers picked at the edge, nerves making little knots in the threads. You glanced back at them again.

“ Are you…gonna be here a long time? ”

“ If you want me to be. ”

You blinked. You didn’t know what to say to that.

Then, without realizing it, your voice came out a little smaller. A little softer.

“ …Do you have a name? ”

They shook their head gently.

“ No. Not yet. ”

You tilted your head.

“ …Someone just made you without a name? ”

“ Someone made me to be given one. That part’s up to you. ”

You blinked again. Your lips parted slightly, unsure what emotion was about to come out. You weren’t used to choosing something that mattered.

Your heart fluttered in a strange, new way half nervous, half…excited?

You looked at them, sitting patiently on the floor like they’d wait forever if that’s what it took.

You felt your blanket slip from your shoulders just a little as you leaned forward.

Then, in a small, careful voice, you asked

“ …What’s your name…? ”

[jjwolves]

ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ LOVE UNDER WILL ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ

This headcanon list was commissioned by @master-eclectic ! Thank you so much for your support, it means the world to me <3

What: Headcanons of ENA as a Yandere X Reader

Who: ENA by Joel G

How Much: ~700 words, ~2 mins

Credits: Banner Image -> Joel G, Divider -> @aquazero

You like ENA a lot—perhaps more than anyone else you’ve met in this constantly fluid world. She cares deeply for you right back, albeit in her own strange way, always bringing you gifts and comforting you when times are tough. Sometimes she does the comforting, sometimes you do the comforting. It’s nice. It’s simple. It’s kind of weird. ENA is kind of weird in everything she does, so her more alarming patterns of behavior end up being a drop of static in a sea of missing signal. You don’t notice that her infatuation with you runs deeper than her usual childlike curiosity—it’s something psychological, and fiercely jealous.

You don’t find it odd how she stares at you, because she stares at everyone, smile unchanging. But one day, when you’re watching a drive-in movie where the vehicles are projectors with legs, you turn to ENA halfway through to find that she’s been staring straight into you the entire time, a placid smile resting on her face. “You’re seeming very action-adventure today. If I held your hand, would you let the cosmic wheel creak to a stop?” Heart thumping, you give her your hand. She turns doom and gloom in a heartbeat, clutching your hand tightly, blue interlocking with yellow. Tingling tears fall onto your knuckles. “So beautiful… I don’t deserve to hold this! But I don’t care! I’m gonna hold it anyway!” You get annoyed glances from neighboring robots trying to watch the movie.

She starts stalking you in ways which are very uniquely hers. Once, when you were brushing your teeth, the chill of being watched ran up your spine. You whipped around to your window to find nothing there, but when you turned back around to the mirror, ENA was inside, startling at being seen and scurrying off to hide somewhere less visible in the mirror-realm. You hang a curtain over it just in case. Another time, you walked past one of the paintings hung up in your hallway and suddenly realized that there was something off about one of them once you reached your room. You ran back and found ENA posing inside one of the paintings, shifty eyes the only giveaway that she knew she was caught (and being slightly creepy). “Ah, dearest… You must admit that I gel well among the firmaments!” You reluctantly agreed that, yes, she did look like she belonged in a painting. ENA blushed and gave the closest thing to a bashful chuckle you’d ever heard out of her.

ENA normally isn’t obsessive, but her love, her adoration for you, sharpens the hazy, vivid colors dwelling in her heart into something screeching and unpredictable. A yellow that threatens to burn and a blue that promises to drown. Being near you has her flying high, bright as ever, spinning you around and keeping you to herself in a tight embrace. “You’re the dawning spring of my heart. And I’ll never let you go!” She stills and looks deep into you. “Ever,” she adds, but with a tone light and airy. She wouldn’t want to scare you away, now!

When you spend time with other friends a little more than with her, she sinks into mental storm. She’s not used to this feeling, so she doesn’t know what it is, but anyone else would tell you it’s jealousy. And it’s intense. Her blue side starts getting a lot more talkative when ENA feels like you’re paying too much attention to other people. She wails and cries on your shoulder, not so subtly smelling your hair in between sobs. “It’s—not—fair! Why do you spend so much time with them?!” She slumps forward and looks upwards, her blue eye meeting one of yours. You explain that you’ll always like her the most, but that there are other people who are important to you as well. “NO!! Boo-hoo… You’re only supposed to love ME! All those other people should just disappear!” You’re perturbed, to say the least, and not by the fact that your clothes have essentially become ENA’s impromptu handkerchief. (That part’s par for the course.) Either way, you hold ENA tighter as her floating hair pieces gently brush against your ear.

[theshiniestgemstone]

trust me- fem!reader x gideon gemstone

warnings: smut, p in v sex, first time, minors dni

When Gideon confided in you that he was a virgin, you blinked at him. You were speechless. You’d been in the game room sat beside one another in saucer chairs. You'd spent the afternoon making them, curating the bowl of sugars into perfection. After flipping through channels, you landed on a movie with some raunchy sex scene playing.

The awkward silence that followed was only made worse by the exaggerated moans echoing from the TV. Gideon had gone still beside you, spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes locked on the screen with this unreadable expression. You thought maybe he was uncomfortable, but then again, so were you.

Then, just as you were about to crack a joke to ease the tension, he said it. Quietly. Casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

"I’ve never actually… done that."

You turned to look at him, thinking maybe you misheard. But he was still staring at the screen, cheeks tinged pink, jaw tight like he was bracing for laughter or judgment.

Instead, you blinked. Slowly. Processing.

You were speechless. “Really?”

He nodded, a vacant stare in his eyes as he watched the scene change into a meadow.

“Yeah.”

You hummed. “I’d have thought you were doing nothing but slinging puss all day in LA.”

Gideon scrunched his nose. “First off, gross. Second, I just never… got around to it I guess.”

You took another bite of your sundae. You let the cold bite of ice cream settle on your tongue before speaking again. “You know, I kind of like that.”

Gideon turned to you, brow raised. “That I’m a 23-year-old virgin?”

“That you waited,” you said, shrugging. “That you didn’t let some weird macho thing or some L.A. girl in a fringe bikini pressure you into it.”

He rolled his eyes but you caught the way his shoulders relaxed a little. “I came close once. But I got weird about it and bailed.”

You grinned. “You? Getting weird? Color me shocked.”

He huffed a small laugh, then nudged your knee with his. “Shut up.”

You licked your spoon clean, feeling bold. “So, are you waiting for someone special? Or just waiting for someone not insane?”

“Little of both,” he said after a beat. “Someone who doesn’t make me feel like I have to prove anything.”

You nodded. "Yeah. I, uh.. me neither."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not even with Jake? You guys dated for like four years."

You stiffened just slightly at the name, your spoon halting mid-air. Gideon didn’t notice at first. He was still watching the TV, trying to sound casual, but his gaze flicked back to you when you didn’t answer right away.

You set the spoon down in the bowl and wiped your hands on your thighs, suddenly unsure what to do with them.

“No,” you said finally. “Not even with Jake.”

Gideon blinked, surprised. “Seriously?”

You nodded once, more firmly this time. “Yeah. I mean, we did other stuff, but… it never felt right. He was always trying to turn it into something performative. Like he was trying to impress himself, not… I don’t know. Be with me.”

Gideon tilted his head, listening. Really listening.

“It just felt like I’d be giving something away to prove a point. And I never wanted to do it like that.”

There was a beat of silence, then he said, “That makes sense.”

You looked at him, half-expecting a joke or a deflection. But his expression was open, unguarded. Like he was seeing you clearly for the first time in a while.

“I always figured you’d-” He cut himself off, cleared his throat. “I dunno. You just carry yourself like someone who knows what they’re doing.”

You smirked. “I do. Just not… that. Yet.”

Gideon snorted and ducked his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “God. We’re a couple of late bloomers, huh?”

You bumped your knee against his. “Better than being reckless idiots.”

He looked at you then and for the first time in the whole conversation, it felt like you weren’t talking about “someday” or “someone else.”

The conversation came full circle a few weeks later. You'd snuck in a bottle of wine and somehow, you landed on the conclusion that you'd lose it to each other. Just two friends who trust each other deciding to give each other your virginities.

You were both cross-legged on the floor of your room, the half-drained bottle of wine between you and the late-night air heavy with that warm, blurry stillness that only ever came after hours of laughter and near-confessions.

Gideon’s cheeks were flushed and not just from the wine. He was reclined against the edge of your bed, arms resting lazily over his knees, watching you as you talked about something stupid, something light, until the conversation dipped again.

"Just two friends who trust each other," you'd said, more to your glass than to him. "No pressure. No weirdness. Just… safe."

His eyes didn’t leave you. “Are you sure?”

You’d already thought about it more than you probably should have. The last few weeks had changed things. Not with one big moment, but in the accumulation of small ones. The way his shoulder bumped yours when he laughed, the way his eyes softened when you spoke, how easy it had become to fall asleep beside him during movie nights, socks touching.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’m sure.”

There was a pause, longer than it needed to be, but neither of you rushed to fill it.

“I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to ruin anything. You’re- this is the best friendship I’ve ever had. If this gets weird-”

“It won’t,” you said. “We’ve seen each other through worse.”

He looked at you like he was trying to memorize you in that moment, your hair messy, wine glass in hand, knees touching his.

“Okay,” he said, voice barely above a whisper as he repeated himself. “Okay.”

You'd planned it for a week from now. His parents would be gone and you were already planning on hanging out. The reality set in an hour before when you were standing in the family planning aisle of the pharmacy, staring at all of the options. You stood there frozen, a basket hooked in the crook of your arm, heart thudding a little too hard in your chest. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed quietly as your eyes scanned rows of brightly colored boxes. Words like ultra-thin, ribbed for her pleasure, and latex-free blurred together until none of it made sense.

It felt absurdly clinical for something that had started as a half-drunk, half-tender promise between two people who trusted each other.

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, chewing your lip. Every so often someone would walk past, and you'd pretend to be examining the cough drops like you hadn’t been standing in the same spot for ten straight minutes.

You picked a box with simple packaging and a brand name you recognized, tossing it into your basket before you could overthink it again. You grabbed a backup option too, just in case. And then, because it felt like a grown-up thing to do, you threw in a pack of gum.

The cashier didn’t even blink as she rang you up, but your ears still burned.

When you got back to the car, you took a breath and texted him.

You: still good for tonight?

The response came seconds later.

Gideon: yeah. unless you’re nervous. i’m good if you wanna wait.

You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering.

You: i’m nervous. but i still wanna.

Another pause.

Gideon: same. see you soon.

You tucked your phone away and sat there for a moment, hands resting on the wheel. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in streaks of gold and lavender. You let yourself sit in the quiet, feeling everything. The nerves. The warmth. The pull of something good waiting for you at the end of this day.

Then you started the car and drove.

You let yourself in, like always. You stared at the little cross beside Gideon's name that was hung on his door, swallowing harshly before stepping in. He was hunched over his desk, scribbling in a journal. One foot bounced against the floor, the other leg tucked under him. His hair was still damp from a shower, curling slightly at the ends. He wore an old black T-shirt and gray sweatpants, soft and worn at the edges. He hadn’t heard you come in.

You stepped inside quietly and dropped the pharmacy bag beside the mountain of shoes he kept by the bed. Nikes. Work boots. A single cowboy boot. Classic Gideon.

“Did you see the new movie with Salma Hayek in it?” you asked casually, leaning against the frame like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Looks good.”

He looked up, startled for a second before softening. “You scared me,” he said, setting the pen down. “I thought you were Pontious.”

“You think your brother’s gonna sneak into your room and catch us in the act?”

His ears pinked. “Please never say it like that.”

You grinned, kicking off your shoes. “Fine. Catch us being two responsible adults making an informed and consensual decision.”

“Better.” He sat back in his chair, spinning lazily to face you. His eyes dropped to the bag, then back up to your face. “So… you actually did it.”

You shrugged, playing it cool. “Of course I did. I’m a woman of action.”

He nodded, then paused, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “Still sure?”

You crossed the room, slower now, letting the moment settle. You stood in front of him and nudged his knee with yours. “Still sure. Are you?”

He looked up at you, all wide eyes and a flicker of nerves behind them. But then he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I want this. I want… you.”

It didn’t sound like some grand declaration. It wasn’t dramatic or possessive. Just honest. Simple. The way he always was when it really mattered.

You reached down, brushed his hair back from his forehead. He closed his eyes at your touch, leaned into it.

“Then let’s just take it slow,” you murmured. “No pressure. No script.”

You stayed there for a moment, between his knees, your hand still resting lightly in his hair. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan and the soft rustling of pages as his journal settled closed behind him. He looked up at you like he didn’t quite believe you were real, like maybe if he blinked, you’d vanish.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice low and barely more than a breath.

You nodded. “Yeah. Please.”

He stood slowly, cautiously, like you were something delicate. His fingers hovered near your hips before settling there, unsure. Yours curled around his wrists, grounding both of you.

When he leaned in, it was tentative and so slow you could feel the space between you dissolve an inch at a time. His lips brushed yours like a question, like he was waiting for you to answer. So you did, leaning in just enough to meet him there.

It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t practiced. But it was tender. Honest.

His lips were soft, a little dry from biting them, but warm against yours. He kissed you like it was something sacred. Not rushed, not hungry. Just… careful. Like he was afraid to mess it up. Like he’d thought about it a hundred times and still couldn’t believe it was happening.

Your fingers slid from his wrists to his waist, slipping under the hem of his shirt just enough to feel the heat of his skin. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, eyes flicking to yours.

“Still okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, heart pounding. “Still okay.”

So he kissed you again, a little braver this time. His hands settled at your waist, drawing you closer like he didn’t want to lose the feeling of you. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for anything more.

And you kissed him back like a promise.

The kiss deepened slowly, the kind of slow that felt earned. His hands were gentle, fingertips skimming over your waist like he was memorizing the curve of it. You guided him toward the bed with a soft tug at his shirt, and he followed like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he'd always meant to fall into you.

The room was dim, the sun nearly set now, casting long shadows across the wall. His room smelled like cedarwood and laundry detergent, something comforting and deeply him. The mattress dipped beneath your weight as you lay back, head resting on his pillow, the scent of it anchoring you.

He hovered above you, one arm braced beside your head, the other resting gently on your ribcage like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to go any lower.

There was something unfamiliar blooming in your stomach. A warmth, a need that unfurled low and slow. It wasn’t urgent or frantic. It wasn’t lust that clawed at you like you’d seen in movies or heard in locker room whispers. It was something else. Tender. Real. A pull you didn’t know how to name, but you knew it had everything to do with him.

You watched his face closely, the crease in his brow, the way he looked at your mouth like it held a secret. He was nervous. You could feel it in the way his breath hitched and the way his eyes kept flicking between yours and the space between your bodies.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted softly.

You smiled, lifting a hand to cup his cheek. “That makes two of us.”

His shoulders relaxed just slightly at that, and he leaned down to kiss you again, slower this time. Less afraid. His body pressed to yours, not heavy, but grounding, and the heat of him seeped through your clothes. Your legs shifted, parting just enough to welcome him in between them. You could feel the trembling effort in his arms as he held himself up, not quite touching you fully.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

His breath caught.

You guided his hand from your ribs down to your waist, under the hem of your shirt. He traced the bare skin there, thumb brushing along the curve of your stomach like it was holy ground. Your own hands found the edge of his T-shirt and pushed upward, and he helped you pull it off entirely. You took him in, admiring the slope of his shoulders and the scatter of freckles across his collarbone. There was a slight tremble in his chest as he exhaled.

You reached for his hand again and brought it to rest just below your sternum. He watched your face, searching, as his fingers splayed across your skin.

Your shirt followed his, tossed to the side. There was something sacred in the way he looked at you, like awe and reverence lived in the same breath. His eyes widened as you leaned up to undo your bra, but he stopped you. He asked silently, moving slowly after you’d give him a nod. He undid the clips gently, fumbling a few times before pulling the straps down your arms. His breath hitched at the sight of your bare chest.

“Is this still okay?” he asked, his thumb grazing the underside of your boob.

You nodded, voice caught in your throat. “More than okay.”

He dipped his head, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. Your hands ran over the planes of his back, feeling the tension melt away as he kissed his way lower, pausing just above the swell of your chest. You could feel that same warmth pulse in your stomach, deeper now, laced with a need that was unfamiliar but welcome. It wasn’t scary. It was just big.

He settled against you again, chest to chest, his skin warm and a little clammy. You didn’t mind. It made it that much more safe. You shifted slightly, wrapping your legs around his waist, and felt him go still.

“Okay?” you asked, voice quiet.

He swallowed. “Yeah. I just… you feel good.”

You smiled and pulled him down to kiss you again, tongues brushing tentatively. There was nothing rushed about it. No choreography. Just exploration. Curiosity. Trust.

When his hips rolled forward, tentative and slow, you gasped softly against his mouth. It wasn’t even skin to skin yet, not fully. But even through clothes, the pressure sparked something deep inside you. The need in your belly curled tighter.

“Gideon,” you murmured, one hand tangling in his hair. “You don’t have to hold back so much.”

He shook his head against your neck. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t. You’re not.”

He lifted his head to look at you, and what you saw there nearly undid you. He was shaking with vulnerability, reverence, and something that looked an awful lot like love. Or maybe the beginning of it.

“I keep thinking about how I want this to be good for you,” he said.

“It already is,” you whispered. “Just being here with you… I’m not scared.”

That seemed to settle something in him. His body lowered, easing into yours, and your hips lifted in response. The friction was maddening, soft and slow and not enough, but it was a start. A sweet, aching start.

You felt the drag of his body against yours, the press of his mouth to your throat, and the building need that made your fingers dig into his back. Still, neither of you rushed. It wasn’t about getting anywhere. It was about learning the language of each other’s skin. About showing up. About being.

You stayed like that for a while, just half-dressed and tangled in sheets, exploring in kisses and whispered reassurances. Every sigh, every brush of skin against skin, stoked the fire just a little higher. The unfamiliar sense of need kept blooming in your stomach, deep and molten, but it didn’t scare you.

Because it was Gideon. And you trusted him.

He undid the string on his pants, you did the same with your own, sliding them down your legs. He was hard, hot with need. Your eyebrows raised. 


"Is something wrong?" He asked, suddenly self conscious.

"No, no," you whispered back. "I've just.. never seen one in real life before."

He paused, blinking at you. Then a nervous laugh slipped out of him. It was quiet and breathless, but sincere.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck, cheeks blooming red. “Well... this is kind of a weird first impression, huh?”

You shook your head, smiling, though your own skin was warm with nerves. “No. Just... surreal, I guess.”

He looked at you for a moment, like he was trying to gauge if you were okay, if you were still in this with him. Then he leaned down and kissed you again, slow and grounding.

“I can stop,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “We can stop.”

You slid your hand up his chest, fingers splayed over his heartbeat. “I don’t want to stop.”

Your underwear was the last barrier, and his hands were slow, reverent as he slid the waistband down your thighs. Your breath hitched when the cool air hit you, nerves coiling tighter in your belly. He kissed your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, like he was anchoring you to the moment.

And he was fully bare too, vulnerable in the truest sense of the word. There was a flush across his chest, a sheen of nervous sweat at his brow, but his hands were steady as he reached for the condom. You watched him unwrap it, watched the way he carefully rolled it on, brows furrowed in concentration. The sight was somehow endearing, almost domestic in its tenderness.

When he moved back over you, your knees bent to frame his hips, your breath caught again. Not from fear. From wonder.

“You okay?” he asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. “Yeah. Are you?”

He let out a shaky breath. “I think so. Just… want to do this right.”

“There’s no wrong way, Gideon,” you said softly.

He nodded. "I read somewhere that, um, it's easier for girls to control when she's on top. I just.." 


"Okay."

The shuffle was awkward, a tangle of limbs and shy glances as you both tried to find your footing, well, positioning. You giggled once when your knee got caught in the blanket, and Gideon muttered an embarrassed “Sorry” when he accidentally elbowed the wall. But eventually, you were there, straddling his hips, your thighs on either side of him, hands braced against his chest.

His skin was warm, flushed pink at the collarbone. You felt the steady thrum of his heart beneath your palm.

You looked down at him. His hair was slightly haloed on the pillow, eyes wide and dark with anticipation, lower lip tucked between his teeth. He looked nervous, but he wasn’t pulling away. He was just waiting. For you.

“Okay?” you asked, breath barely above a whisper.

He nodded, hands finding your waist, tentative and light. “Okay.”

You shifted slightly, adjusting, feeling the way his body responded under yours. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders for balance, and you guided him with one hand, breath hitching as you sank down slowly.

It was new. All of it.

You felt full. Stretched. There was a moment of stillness where neither of you moved, both of you just blinking at each other, caught in the same suspended breath. You let out a soft whimper, swallowing down a groan. You knew it could be painful, assuming it would be more like a cramp than a sting. You stopped halfway, turning away so he couldn’t see the pained expression on your face.

His grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly. “Is it okay?”

You were quiet. He brought a hand up to your chin, guiding you to look at him. A single tear dropped from your eyes and you could see the cogs turning in his mind. Before he could say anything or move, you took a deep breath.

You nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. Just give me a second.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re really… warm.”

You huffed a laugh, nerves crackling under your skin like static. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You stayed like that for a while, slowly inching lower and lower as your body allowed. He whispered encouragements and sweet nothings as his hands ghosted over your skin. When you were fully seated, you grinned. He nodded, giving you a shaky thumbs up which you returned.

You began to move, rocking your hips slowly, searching for a rhythm that felt good, not just physically, but emotionally. Something that didn’t feel rushed or scary. Something that made space for the both of you.

Gideon’s hands flexed at your waist, his eyes never leaving yours. You could tell he was holding back, trying not to move too much, not to overwhelm you. His restraint was almost sweet. The sting softened into something deeper, a heat pooling low in your belly. You adjusted your angle slightly and felt a jolt of pleasure that surprised you just enough to make you gasp softly.

“That-” you started, and then broke off in a shaky exhale. “That feels good.”

He nodded quickly. “Keep doing that. Yeah.”

You did. Moving slowly, building momentum in tiny increments. The friction, the warmth, the closeness. It all blended into something heady. His hands slid up your sides, gentle and grounding, his thumbs brushing just under your ribs.

“You’re beautiful,” he said suddenly, voice breathy and low.

You blinked down at him, caught off guard. “Gideon-”

“I mean it,” he murmured. “I’ve thought it before. A lot. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

You leaned down and kissed him. It was slow, deep, messy in the way first kisses always are when you’re trying to communicate too much at once. Your noses bumped, your teeth clicked, but none of it mattered.

He made a quiet, desperate noise when your hips rolled again, and you felt the tension in his body rising, like a coil winding tighter and tighter.

“I’m not gonna last,” he whispered, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry.”

You pressed your forehead to his. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

Another minute, maybe less, and his hips bucked beneath you, uncoordinated and frantic as he spilled into the condom with a sharp inhale, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline. You stilled, giving him a moment to breathe, your own chest heaving.

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. His eyes were glassy, mouth parted. You brushed the hair from his forehead, kissed the tip of his nose. You scooted off of him, careful when pulling the condom off. He tied it slowly, like he was still coming back down to earth, before tossing it into the waste bin.

When he’d calmed, he gently pulled you down beside him, arms wrapping around your waist instinctively. Your legs tangled together beneath the covers, and for a while, the only sound in the room was your breathing, synced like waves against the shore.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked eventually, so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

“No,” you murmured. “You were perfect.”

He snorted. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t,” you said honestly. “It felt… right.”

He looked at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “I’m glad it was you.”

You curled into him, nose pressed to his collarbone. “Me too.”

And then, in the quiet hush of his bedroom, wrapped in his warmth and the fading blush of your first time, you realized that this wasn’t just a pact. It wasn’t just a decision born of curiosity or timing or trust.

"I think I'm doing this all backwards," he started, "but can I take you on a date?"

[marsoid]

ANSWERING OVERDUE ASKS PART 3!!

ANSWER UNDER THE CUT!!

I try to study photo reference of cars when I color them! Black cars are especially helpful because it’s easier to interpret what I’m looking at. Take this one for example

It’s just a really sexy mirror essentially. You can see the reflection of the sky, the ground, and the greenery in a way that adheres to the form. Blocky cars are simple because the planes are very obvious and clear. Look at the nose just above the headlight chrome, you can tell it’s angled in such a way that you just see almost a solid rectangle of sky, where the hood just above it is reflecting only the greenery because it’s a different angled plane (flat reflective surfaces like the hood are similar to a lake reflecting a mirrored image of what’s right above it).

Thinking of them like mirrors helps me make sense of it lol so IDK MAYBE IT’LL HELP U TOO?!?!

Sugar is some kind of siren i swear

Our 9 year anniversary is coming up this month 🥹

Currently Sugar is having some annoying acceleration hesitation issue that’s almost certainly the fault of the aftermarket EFI system i have on her, might need a new throttle position sensor (which is cheap and simple thankfully!). I always feel like a crazy person if i can’t drive for a few days. I WAUNT TO DRIVE MY CAR

Here’s a recent pic also. Sorry there’s some dumbass idiot in the way

JKFLD

Keep her clean! Inside and out wash days! Maybe fix up any torn upholstery, get her some new floor mats with a matching steering wheel cover, something cool to dangle from the rearview mirror, and truck nuts (don’t do truck nuts)

I’m also a big fan of people who put a sticker of their car, on their car. Makes me laugh every time it’s so weird and endearing LOL

@esendoran thank you!! I also wasn’t very handy when I got my car, but I got her in surprisingly good shape from the get-go luckily. The nice thing about vintage cars is that they’re very simple mechanically. The engine bay is open and spacious and easy to crank on. It’s also got the advantage of being so old that there’s a ton of people who will know how to work on them if you don’t (YouTube videos, car forums etc too). The only thing I would say is that you should definitely have a garage or somewhere else enclosed if you get an old car! They’re an easy target for car theft, and tend to not do well sitting in bad weather (even rain, and god forbid you get some nasty hail). But otherwise, I wouldn’t let lack of knowledge keep you from getting one! Learn as you go. Also get any car you want to buy appraised before you give the seller any money!! They can make sure there’s no serious hidden issues. 👍🏾

I need to do a part 4 dammit what is wrong with me

[pocket-deer-boy]

let's rip this shit apart

the original designs are, in my opinion, a fairly high bar to cross. they're very of it's era but undeniably, as a group, the girls are well designed while being individually recognizable. They have strong color theming and cross a wide range of colors, it would be difficult to add a new member and find a color palette for her that makes her properly stick out without feeling out of place. Still there's very much reason to redesign them for a reboot other than just distinguishing them from the originals; make them fit better in a modern era with different standards (they're all frighteningly thin), update them to modern fashion trends, create room for new creative voices in the work. etc. lots of stuff to play around with.

some early promotional art/leaked concept art(?) of the reboot actually shows some fairly decent updated designs. In my opinion stella and bloom kind of just feel like they swapped outfits (and i don't like the red gem on bloom, it feels out of place), but flora here takes some nice advantage of the 3D look by having a lot of wavy frills in her skirt as well as some texture at the bust that would've been difficult to pull off in 2D. Surely these concept designs could go through a couple extra passes to find a more solid direction for the new character designs, right? But if this was what they went for with the final product i don't think anybody would complain, they look good.

In order to talk about why the reboot looks suck i want to briefly take a look at their casual outfits.

The same i said for the fairy designs is largely true here. The colors are a bit less saturated and the purples and blues are more dominant, but for the color palette of the series it does a great job making their outfits overall not too flashy, and helps contrast them against their fairy outfits. It also helps blend them together a little bit if there's not too many out-there colors, which is great for group shots. The extra detail and color also helps contrast them from their bold single color fairy forms. It looks fantastic, their outfits feel intentional and get across a lot of character. Particularly a fan of Aisha and Musa's designs here.

Here's their current designs as they appear in the trailer. first impressions... i really don't like stella. The yellow and pink isn't great on her already very yellow hair, i don't like this weird sideskirt thing she's got going on. The other designs, in my opinion, range from bland to just kinda mid. Musa and Aisha have these kinda bland silhouettes with cutouts going on Musa's palette is very strange to me, flora's outfit feels weirdly overly structured compared to everyone else, tecna is like. also there. The core idea of the color palettes still reigns true, the palettes just aren't as good. The designs feel a bit cluttered, like there wasn't as strong concept behind what they were doing with each character as there maybe should have been.

Let's get to the fairies!

So... What's going on here? Why do these all feel like they're missing something? Why do these fall flat to me? I want to go by them one by one.

Flora just feels uninspired. The rose petal skirt, while a cute concept, feels more bland and less magical than the voluminous frilled skirt she wears in her civilian outfit. The outfit relies so much on just pink that it starts to feel exhausting. Her original palette balanced this out with greens, especially in her wings and her necklace. The boots, again, have this bulky look to them that she shares with her civilian outfit which to me doesn't really go with her natural theming. Fashion wise it also just feels like a bit of an older style, like something you'd see on a woman in her 40's. Not bad, just... not quite fitting on a teenager?

Tecna is weird to me. This is a distinctly sporty outfit, the only thing that really makes it scream "tech" is the very strange boots. There's just not much to talk about to me? all i can think of is underwhelming. It's missing the weird magic matrix sci-fi elements that inspired her original design, the very weird but iconic full-body suit that i thought was weird as a kid but i've now grown to adore is completely absent from this design.

Musa is just kind of boring. They've made her palette fully pastel, which i guess fits with her new casual outfit but it softens her impact a lot. She's already gone through a full series of being forcefully un-tomboy-ed and it just feels miserable to see her presented as even younger and more girly. this design wouldn't feel out of place on an elementary school child, she's meant to be a teenager.

Stella is alright, i think. Probably the least offensive design, just very okay. I'm not a huge fan of the pinks in her design, she's already full of these very warm colors and the group really doesn't need more pinks. They've already made musa more pink than red, and musa's palette already looks so much like flora's. The biggest mistake here is just not keeping in mind how the girls would look as a group, i think.

Aisha maybe exemplifies every problem with the fairies' designs. They traded her iconic greens for this light cyan. I know they're wanting to make her more water themed, but this color really wouldn't make her stand out along the waves. I'm not a fan. There's also really no strong concept behind her design. Is it meant to be sporty? what is the peplum half skirt thing doing? Her top feels like a sports tank and this theming barely feels like it carries, are these boots meant to be sporty? Overall, it just feels extremely lame compared to the strappy look of her original design.

Bloom is easily the biggest set of mistakes they made. The pink really does nothing for her, the skirt feels confused, the braids in her hair feel random, the asymmetrical shoulder pad just feels like this weird curveball, i'm not a huge fan of how much contrast there is between the lighter and darker blues. Again, i'm not sure what the concept here was and everything about it reminds me of her horrible sirenix design.

I think you may be seeing a throughline in my complaints here, the lack of a strong concept and a lack of consideration for group design. Their civilian outfits don't look bad when put together, but some of them just feel bland or not well thought out. Their fairy forms very strongly suffer from the complete removal of greens to balance out the pinks in their overal designs, and as a whole lack a strong cohesive design concept. Some of them feel overdetailed like bloom and aisha while musa feels underdetailed. The original kept everything much simpler, focusing on bold, form fitting silhouettes with one base dominant color an a lighter highlight, with one contrasting color thrown in; the reboot designs don't seem willing to learn a lesson from this, having characters with either no contrasting color like aisha and flora, and giving bloom and stella the same contrasting colors. The originals feel like a set, a line of designs by the same designer making variations of the same core motifs, meant to be worn as a group. the reboot manages to feel incoherent both individually and as a group.

i could do a little masterpost on my thoughts about the new fairy designs for the winx club reboot if like at least one person is interested in that

[funny-critter-blog]

GUYS

GUYS GUYS GUYS

THIS HIDE AND SLEEP CLIP IS MAKING ME GO CRAZY

IS ANYONE ELSE OVERTHINKING WHAT THIS CLIP MEANS FOR THE EPISODE???

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[coern-art-very-cool-and-nice]

“An abnormal heat is occurring within the ceasing remnants of my mind”.

[vespcrtines]

It’s one of those times again. One of those times he wishes he was like Alaina — a step removed, a degree away from everything, living somewhere up in that in-between place where people just know how to read half-truths and unsaid things that never quite settle right in his head. The blue of the sky feels a little too blue today, too bold, trying to drown out the thin streaks of cloud that dare cut across it. Funny, how strong a color can be. How overwhelming.

The tap of a boot against his shoe tethers him back down to the grass where they lay, and his gaze flickers down to the spot where they touch. Huh. Wonder why he did that.

And he knows it’s a small thing, probably nothing, but the part of him that’s been raised to clock every look and word, every twitch of a mouth or reach of a hand, can’t help but latch onto it. Turn it over like a stone in his palm. What did it mean? Did it mean anything? Why did Hiro say his name like that? Teasing? Mocking? Testing? God, it was exhausting. Exhausting to be so careful all the time. To wish he could just let things be what they were, take them at face value without feeling like he had to strip the skin off every word to see what was hiding underneath.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs at last, eyes lifting from the faint, dull scuff of their shoes to meet Hiro’s. Dark, deep, unreadable as ever. His brow furrows, the corner of his mouth tugging down as his thoughts tangle. “But it feels like you’re tryin’ to.”

His voice is quiet, a little rough, a little uncertain. Not angry. Not accusing. Just tired. Just as honest as someone who's unsure of the truth can be. “Since you came up to the lectern, it’s been…” He trails off, shakes his head, as though he can shake the thought loose, but it only sticks tighter. “I dunno. It’s been somethin’.”

He tips his head back toward the sky again, the sunlight burning bright against the back of his eyes. Feels the grass tickle at the nape of his neck, a few stray blades catching in his hair. It’s weird. This whole thing’s weird.

“…I’m sorry,” he mutters, after a stretch of too-warm silence. “I’m not used to folks talkin’ to me without wantin’ somethin’ in return. Repentance. Confession. A signature to prove community service hours for whatever fool class assignment. Somethin’ I can measure. Somethin’ I can weigh.”

He pauses, thinking about it, one hand lifting to the sorry cigarette between his fingers. The taste of dirt and ash and dry grass already blurring out whatever stale tobacco was left in it. He takes a slow, steady drag anyway, grey smoke curling up toward that too-blue sky.

“Though,” he adds, and there’s a thread of wryness in his voice now, tugging at the corner of his mouth like it wants to be a smile but can’t quite get there, “I think the only thing you asked me for was a light.”

Blue. Hiro tips his eyes to the sky, head falling back to stare upward at its great expanse as he mulls over that particular word. Wide open. Stretching from horizon to horizon. Thin veils of white sheet like clouds covering nothing but just enough to give the illusion of an attempt at modesty. The corner of his mouth twitches at the accuracy. He swallows more smoke, holds it in his lungs and lets it seethe out from his nostrils like it comes from the deep bowels of his stomach. Like he's made of coals and fire.

He turns his head as Azariah does, a mirrored action and their eyes catch and hold. Heat makes the air feel close, smoke makes it feel congested. Hiro is very aware of the blades of grass against Azariah's cheek. "Yeah?" Something in him trips. He falls onto the flat of his back slowly, no longer propped up by his elbows, no longer fighting against gravity. Down here it's sweltering. A single bead of sweat runs down the side of his neck.

"No," not even he knows how honest he's being, if at all. Hiro never tries to get into trouble, it just seems to find him. It's the way salmon inherently know to swim upstream without being told how or when, something written within their genetic code makes it entirely instinctual. He didn't light Azariah's cigarette. He didn't lure him quietly to a private pocket of solitude. He didn't remove the stiff collar from around his neck. He didn't force the words out of Azariah's mouth. It isn't lost on him that if someone were to stumble upon the pair here that he would be blamed for it all. It doesn't bother him. Hiro doesn't go looking for trouble, it just seems to find him and he's stopped trying to follow the current a long time ago.

There's a boundary somewhere here and so far, Hiro doesn't think he's crossed it. He sends out a little toe-touch to test the edges, boot tilting to thud dully against the side of Azariah's shoe. It doesn't have to tip too far to touch. "Do you think I'm trouble, Tanaka?" Once again, his name comes out slowly and another question comes a beat later, half a degree lower, suggestive, "Do you want to be in trouble?"

[buttercupshands]

Finished themmm

Accidentally

I planned on going to bed early as a celebration, but then I looked at my unfinished pf of Siffrin in the sketchbook and boom couple of hours of sketching, lining and coloring and the beans are now officially paper figured

I can now randomly take photos of them in a forest whenever I feel like it. I have couple pfs on me every day just in case of this happening

[front-facing-pokemon]

[sufficientlylargen]

I've found my new favorite units chart (from wikimedia commons).

[sonknuxadow]

something so beautiful about how shadow with huge demon wings is probably something that would have been widely made fun of a few years ago but the general consensus on it now is that its the coolest thing to ever happen . peace and love on the black comet