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hunn1e-bunn1e · 2 years ago

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Demon Brothers - With Flirty Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

So! While writing this ask I've very quickly figured out that I can't flirt for my life. Thus; this ask was translated into Headcannons instead of my original plan of a split between Headcannons and a Oneshot. I hope you enjoy this because that was a half hour of embarrassment that I can't get back. —Benny🐰

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☕ You're either very brave or very very stupid; there is no in between. The audacity that you have to flirt with the avatar of pride: Lucifer himself is absolutely appalling. This poor overworked demon goes through full 5 minute factory reset just to understand what the fuck you just said to him.

☕ Stop. Please, just have a normal conversation with him. It can be about literally anything— A dream you had last night, the breakfast this morning, Beel's Fangol practice, your homework, how you think he should send Mammon to rehab for his obvious Kleptomaniac tendencies... Lucifer will even indulge in speaking about those weird captioned images and short videos that you call memes; just, please... he understands that he's handsome, but make it quick; he has paperwork to do.

☕ Do you really think that you can flirt your way out of a punishment? First Asmodeus and Diavolo (after Asmodeus spent some time with him, Diavolo attempted to flirt his way out of his Princely duties to take a few hour break) and now you? Goodness, he's surrounded by idiots. You're going to give poor Lucifer gray hairs, you know.

☕ Lucifer may let you bargain your way out of facing his wrath, though. He finds the image of you being ripped from your flirtatious facade and forced to think about things that you could offer him as collateral as he patiently taps his fingers on his desk to be on of the most amusing thing he's seen in almost 200 years. He won't lie; your nervous figiting is pretty entertaining too.

☕ Though... you might want to be a little more careful going forward, lest you catch the avatar of pride on a day that he's particularly stressed; he might just take you up on one of your occasionally more... lewd flirtatious remarks. Perhaps he'll put an end to your flirtatious ways with a well deserved spanking? Lucifer is sure you wouldn't complain, given your very clear attraction to him.

🦚•♡•🦚•♡•🦚•♡•🦚•♡•🦚•♡•🦚•♡•🦚•♡•🦚

🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇

💰 You broke him; the minute those words left your lips he went completely offline. Of course; Mammon thought that you were just making fun of him at first and tried to see of you'd slip up and insult him like so many others have. However, you only doubled down and now, the poor, flustered avatar of greed can barely look you in the eyes anymore.

💰 Truthfully, Mammon can't help but compare you to Asmodeus with how seem to need to add some sort of flirtatious comment into every sentence. Though you're not as dramatic and not at all cruel like his younger brother. He doesn't see your flirting as a bad thing but he can't help but get jealous when you start flirting with his brothers, Barbatos, Lord Diavolo and that angel. You're only supposed to do that sort of thing with him! He's your first man, dammit!

💰 Flirting your way out of being roped into a money making scheme? Pretty unlikely, believe it or not. When Mammon gets a hint of money he's chasing it and no amout of compliments will get you out of being dragged along for the ride. However, you might be able to flirt your way into getting him to take all the blame when the plan inevitably fails. All you need to do is lay it on thick and he's sold. This demon is madly in love with you, he will do anything you ask and more.

💰 While your first man is okay with taking the fall for you in any situation; he expects you to nurse his sore body back to health after hanging from the rafters for 6 hours again. You'll convince Lucifer to give him back Goldie too, won't you? Of course you would, Mammon doesn't work for free, after all.

💰 Mammon may or may not practice pick-up lines in his bathroom mirror. While he's confident in the solitude of his bathroom; once he's face to face with you his anxiety skyrockets and he stumbles over his words like a drunk man trying to navigate a dark room. You have no idea what you do to him, do you?

🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇•♡•🦇

🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍

🎮 Sorry, he's dead. Unfortunately, you had to go and flirt with this yucky otaku demon and he keeled over and died from overheating. Leviathan blushed so violently that he liquefied his brain and he fainted right then and there, bonking his head on various objects on his way down. Ah... poor guy...

🎮 Please, please, spare this poor man, he cannot handle it. Leviathan is too precious so go easy on him or he may just never leave that little hidey hole he calls a bedroom ever again. He's not brave enough to face you when you're like that! You may be his Henry but it feels like he's gone in too deep now, he can't even look at his beloved Ruri-Chan like he used to because you wrestled your way into her place! Just what the hell are you doing to him!?

🎮 You want to escape one of his long winded rants on TSL? All you need to do is give Leviathan a lovestruck gaze and his brain is fried; then you can make your escape. Fat Chance! As if he'd ever willing let you opt out of letting him share his one of his passions with you! Malfunctioning or not; he'll keep on talking; whether it's just to continue the conversation or to distract himself from you, we still don't know. You'll let him right? Or... do you think he's just a gross otaku afterall...?

🎮 If you do ever get into trouble with Lucifer for whatever reason; just pop into Levi's room and hide under the blankets in his bathtub while he's distracted by whatever game he's playing at the time. His older brother will never find out and neither will he until he stumbles upon you when he's feeling tired after an excruciatingly long raid. Of course, even after he finds you, he won't tell a soul.

🎮 Leviathan may or may not be hoarding various cosplays of characters with flirtatious personalities that just so happen to be in your size. How he got your measurements for the alleged cosplays is information that he will take to the grave. (He actually just asked Asmodeus but he prefers to seem mysterious about for some reason...)

🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍•♡•🐍

🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄

📚 Are you sure you wanna do that? Do you really want to take that risk? Truthfully, Satan knows all he has to do is amusedly raise a brow and you'll be quite as a mouse. But he finds it funny that you try to hide your fear of him behind that meaningless banter that you keep spewing. He's almost immune to your antics due to his abundant knowledge of human psychology and the time that he's spent observing you... almost.

📚 You'll have to either say something very shocking or tie it in with cats somehow in order to have an effect on Satan. He hangs around Asmodeus far too often (a personal headcannon of mine is that the two are actually very close) to be very influenced by flirtatious or suggestive remarks too much anymore. Usually he'll either raise a brow at you or just send you a teasing smirk. Though if you play into his vast knowledge and offer him a risqué fact he doesn't know, he'll be very interested.

📚 Wanna try your hand at flirting your way out of being on the receiving end of one if his wrathful outbursts? Are you a fucking idiot? Do you have no self preservation instincts at all?? You best get to steppin'; or else Satan will rip your face right off in his blind rage. To be honest, if you do go and try that, you deserve what you get in return for your stupidity.

📚 If you ever get into trouble with Lucifer, all you need to do is go to Satan and he'll harbor you in his room so long as you keep your hands to yourself. Make sure to let him know whenever you plan on flirting your way out of one of his oldest brother's punishments; he'll bring himself some popcorn. Not only will he get to see you embarrass yourself, he'll also get to see you annoy Lucifer; it's a 2 for 1 deal!

📚 If you catch him in a really good mood, Satan might just flirt back at you. Resting his chin on his palm and looking at you with the softest eyes as he lets loose words so sweet you'd think he was made of sugar. He can be really suave when he wants to, he just has to be in the right mood, ya'know.

🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄•♡•🦄

🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂

🛍 Look, I'll be blunt; Asmodeus hangs out with literal sex demons on the daily, he's heard everything. He's the avatar of lust; he is unfazed. So when I tell you that this man immediately thinks your just wanting to either have sex or something close to it, I'm serious. There is no if, and, but or in between; you guys are either doing the sideways tango or making out. If you don't want that, don't bother flirting with him.

🛍 Asmodeus is 100% unfazed by your flirting. No matter how sweet or raunchy you get, you'll never pull a big reaction from him. It'll mostly just be little hums of acknowledgement, his well rehearsed smile or bedroom eyes. I don't know what you were expecting, to be honest.

🛍 You think you can flirt your way out of doing anything with Asmo? Haha, no, you silly little human, you.~ He'll give you an airy little giggle and then drag you along to either his bedroom or whatever place that he needed to take you originally. Sometimes he'll strait up ignore you and act like you hadn't even said anything at all. Other times he'll use his charms and make you feel guilty for even thinking about opting out of spending time with him. It's a lose, lose situation; or a win, win depending on how much you like the guy.

🛍 You think he'll let you flirt your way out of one of Lucifer's punishments? Absolutely not! Or, at least, not without him giving you a few pointers first. Truth be told, Asmodeus thinks you have almost no rizz (he still loves you regardless~♡) and as the avatar of lust, he feels like it's his job to fix that! Or... at least try.

🛍 Truthfully, Asmodeus will keep you at an arm's length (for a while until he figures out your true intentions) like he does all of his sex demon friends. He believes you only want him for what they want him for; his body and looks. He won't ever show it but it does take a toll on him. He can breath a sigh of relief when he figures out what you really want from him.

🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂•♡•🦂

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🍔 It's like talking to a brick wall; Beelzebub doesn't get the implications of your words. And why would he? He's far too innocent and thick headed (in the sweetest way possible) to understand something like that. Why do you even want to flirt with this precious man? Are you trying to corrupt him, you heathen!?

🍔 If you want a flustered Beel, you'll have to drop the flirting all together. Say what you need to say in clear message so he can't confuse any meanings or insinuations even if he tried to. And boom. You'll get a cute, flustered giant with flushed cheeks and an angelic smile. He'll be like a school girl with a crush; shyly fiddling with his fingers and giddily shuffling in place.

🍔 Trying to flirt your way out of sharing your food with Beelzebub? Don't. Give him a portion, you stingy bitch. Flirting aside— how could have the heart to say no to this man, you monster!? Back on topic; flirting will just fly right over his head, so I wouldn't even bother. Just give him some of your food, it's not that hard. You'll get a cute, grinning avatar of gluttony out of it, so what's that harm?

🍔 You're trying to flirt your way out of a punishment from Lucifer? Well... Beel doesn't wanna make his eldest brother mad... but he also doesn't like the idea of not helping you when you need it. He's so torn! What should he do! Unfortunately for you, the poor man will be so caught up in whether he should help you or not, that Lucifer has already found you and now you're hanging from the rafters. Please don't be mad at him, he didn't mean to ignore you, it was just a really hard decision for him!

🍔 When Beelzebub "flirts", he usually offers you some sort of food item that he really wanted to eat. He'll take occasional glances to see if you've eaten it or not and to see your reaction to it so he knows what you like in the future. Accept it! Don't you dare turn down a gift from this sunshine, you'll make him sad!

🪰•♡•🪰•♡•🪰•♡•🪰•♡•🪰•♡•🪰•♡•🪰•♡•🪰

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🌌 Hey, so... you remember how he killed you via snapping your spine like a toothpick. I really wouldn't recommend flirting with him in any capacity. I don't think Belphegor would appreciate you waking him up to flirt or if he's already awake, which is a rarity in it's self, he'd rather you be quite so he can nap. He's just here to use you as a pillow, not to hear you run your mouth.

🌌 The best time to "flirt" with this slightly homicidal demon is when he decides that you deserve to take a nap with him. (Read as; when he decides to sleep on your bed and use you as a pillow.) However; said flirting must be soft and sweet. Gentle praises in a soft voice. Comb your fingers through his hair. Belphie will drift off to sleep with small smile on his face. Expect him to be in a very flowery mood when he wakes up again.

🌌 You want to attempt to flirt your way out of stargazing in the attic for the nth time in a row? Sure! You do that! In fact, Belphegor thinks that your bones are looking mighty crushable right now. Don't get too ahead of yourself, he's not above physically holding onto you and keeping you in the attic until he's satisfied. You're not getting out of this one, hun.

🌌 On the run from Lucifer? Belphegor's got you covered! Just head on up to the attic while he goes to Satan for a hex he can place on the door to keep the prideful demon away. Anything to fuck with Lucifer will have him come running, so keep him informed, okay?

🌌 On some rare occasions, when you and Belphie are alone together, he can be real sweet to you. Calling you something romantic like his north star or something of the like. However, he quickly ruins the mood with an obnoxious yawn. Whether he does that on purpose or not is up to you.

🐄•♡•🐄•♡•🐄•♡•🐄•♡•🐄•♡•🐄•♡•🐄•♡•🐄

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

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rafaron1223 · 1 month ago

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I'M BACK FOR MORE SXF CONTENT!

To preface, a month ago, I learned about an interview with Tatsuya Endo on Spy x Family on a magazine that came out in 2020. Well, today I finally got it!

There were a lot of cool illustrations and drafts from the early days of Spy x Family that I don't think have reached a lot of the fans in the West due to this being a JP magazine.

The article is a whopping 8 pages! 6/8 of them is the actual interview, but there's so much text in here that it'll take me a while to translate the whole thing.

And before I forget, I present this Anya doodle by Endo for the interview.

I'll be gradually sharing my first impressions about the contents of this interview, but I'd like to dedicate this post to this particular section featuring the initial cover designs!

We'll start backwards with the one that stands out the most: Franky on Volume 4. This is just a speculation, but it seems like he was still planned to be the uncle at the time of this drawing. You can also see him sitting on an LC7 Swivel Chair, which is designed by the same person who designed the Grand Confort LC2 Petit Modèle armchair that we see Loid sitting on in Volume 1. And if Endo taught us anything about characters sitting on different chairs made by the same designer, they're pretty good friends.

In our current day, I think it's really funny that it took Franky four more volumes to finally get his own cover. God bless him.

Next is Yor on Volume 3, who, interestingly enough, is sitting on the sitting on a Heart Cone Chair, which is currently used by Fiona on the Volume 6 cover. Compared to the current version, Yor appears to have a more serene look, and the poses are quite similar. You can also see the aspect of blood stains on the floor remaining in the current version of Volume 3.

As for Anya on Volume 2, compared to the final version, she's dressed in her regular clothes rather than her Eden Academy uniform, and Mr. Chimera is seated at her right instead of her left. The pose is also different too, with Anya sitting with spread legs with her hands in front of her.

Also, it was stated by Endo before in the Eyes Only fanbook that the colors on the Marshmallow Sofa in Volume 2 are an original addition, so it's interesting to see the actual black and white colors used in this draft.

And last but not least, we have Loid. I saved him for last since his cover had a lot of versions that I think are worth looking at.

A lot of things are pretty similar here, with Loid sitting on a Grand Confort LC2 Petit Modèle armchair with a gun in his right hand (the pic quality doesn't show it, but trust me, he is) while staring forward. As for differences, Loid starts off in a pose with open legs while holding a mask in his left hand. Also, something that should be mentioned is that the detail of the characters hiding items under their chair seems to be absent.

Below is the process of how Endo-sensei got to Volume 1's final design. The first draft had Loid crossing his legs while holding his face with his hand. In the second, he's spreading his legs and holding a hat this time. You can also see the bullet casings at his feet. Maybe a prelude to the "under the chair" aspects of the volume covers? According to the captions, Endo drew these drafts on Clip Studio Paint. These drafts got rejected and we end up getting Loid in his iconic pose, which was developed into what we see now.

can't believe we lost manspreading Loid but oh well

As for the bottom half, these are other considered designs during the draft. The first and third covers look pretty plain and generic, but the second one is pretty reminiscent of the Forger's family portrait while the fourth reminds me of this extra page from Volume 4. But I can see why these designs were scrapped by Endo. Though I can see the second cover getting a cover near the end of the manga in the future, or something like that.

Overall, these images were really interesting to look at! I love looking at the drafts of Spy x Family and seeing where things could have gone. Though I'm pretty bugged that this magazine came out 5 years ago and I'm only learning about it now.

The next post will be about Endo's initial plot for Spy x Family! Look forward to it!

#spy x family #sxf #sxf manga #spy family #loid forger #anya forger #yor forger #bond forger #franky franklin #spyxfamily #sxf loid #sxf yor #sxf anya #sxf bond #sxf franky

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respectthepetty · 1 month ago

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Sis. Do you have the full download on what the hell is going on with this meme?

https://x.com/chenrcj/status/1930969801410896128?s=46

If I’m understanding this drama correctly, we have

1) Latin Americans on one side who are upset that a continent-specific meme broke out of containment globally,

2) other Latin Americans who are upset that the meme exists in the first place, both because of insinuated homophobia and/or because their biases are involved in it, and

3) Brazilians who are pissed off about being grouped together with other Latin Americans, which, valid, I’m not even sure which country the original meme originated from.

If you’ve been following this at all (JOONG GOSSIP!), can you offer an explainer?

You caught me at the perfect time because I'm out and about for the first weekend of Pride, but I'm resting before I go back out and support the youths, which means I should revisit memes of days past [translation - Actor Joong Archen donated two million to the LGBTQ+ community and his comment left us speechless: "I hope they find a cure soon" exclaimed the young Thai man.]

This is based on an American(?) meme/TikTok but from 2019? Earlier? Basically the joke was this white boy had no idea what LGBT was, so when asked to donate, he did because he thought it was a disease like MS (multiple sclerosis) or for like an organization MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving). The joke is that he has no idea what the letters stand for, but he has good intentions (and must post about them on social media).

Since then, as with all things on the interwebz (Destiel "I love you" meme, I'm looking at you), it has evolved.

Celebrities like Taylor Swift and Lana del Rey have been meme-ed (perhaps to show they are out-of-touch with the communities that support them and only do things for clout???), yet . . . conservatives got a hold of them and used them as empowering messages to fight against the "woke left" because they believed they were real.

Now, we live in a space that those who get the joke, get it, and those that don't, really don't. For example, this Facebook group "Nos obligaron a cambiar de nombre por culpa de Kim" [translation: we were forced to change our name because of Kim], has been posting these images with the "I hope they find a cure soon" caption, but . . . this doesn't make sense when applied to BL actors. They know about the soup, so the joke is a miss.

Which prompted GMMTV to threaten to sue people because some folks thought these posts were real and started harassing the actors.

TLDR:

1) This isn't on mi gente. Just like with all bad things, look at the white people first (even if they had good intentions).

2) The joke didn't land with the Joong, Nanon, or Khaotung posts and do come off as homophobia, which I think was kinda of intentional with how the posts are worded since it adds additional content (i.e. "his comment left us speechless").

3) Brazilians should always be mad! The Joong post was in Spanish. They do not speak Spanish. They speak Portuguese! Just because they are in South America does not mean they were colonized by the Spaniards. Their beef is with Portugal, and they deserve for that be recognized.

We all hate Europe though.

#joong archen #leave my troublesome tot alone #the posts are fakes #they are supposed to be jokes but the joke ain't landing in any language

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writerofautumnnights · 3 months ago

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LOST IN TRANSLATION

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ pairing: jobe bellingham x fem!oc

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ sumary: Sarah and Jobe’s second encounter is an easygoing moment of getting to know each other better. With the help of a translator app, they navigate their language barrier, sharing laughs and subtle connections. It’s a casual meeting that deepens their bond, but both are still hesitant about where things might lead.

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ warnings: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes!

# tags: @lonely-world3 @barcagirly @formulafortyfour @kennaskorner @anifffff @jessnotwiththemess @irishmanwhore @oceanfanatic06 @haartemis @eriks-girl @peyiswriting @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @sucredreamer @virgilsgurl @everlyjay @kj77 @muglermami @sailurmewn @goldenngt @cranberryjulce

keara’s imessage: I loved hearing that you guys enjoyed the story, and I’m super excited to know what you think about the couple! This is just a little more of what we can expect from Sarah and Jobe’s world 💕. If you want to be tagged in the next ones… let me know! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 😘

masterlist

The hotel was quiet, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting diffused shadows along the walls. Jobe was supposed to be focused. The match the next day was important, and concentration was part of the routine. But instead of going over plays or shutting his mind off to rest, he was lying there, phone in hand, scrolling through Instagram.

Her profile was already open.

The pictures showed glimpses of her trip—random places around England, packed pubs, streets lit up by vibrant signs. In one of them, Sarah posed in front of the Etihad Stadium, the caption simple: "Not the Maracanã, but another one for the list."

He swiped across the screen, eyes fixed on the image. She liked football. That, he had already noticed. But now he knew it wasn’t just a passing interest. It was something that was part of her.

“Since when d’you spend so much time on Insta?” His friend’s voice cut through the silence of the room. Jobe locked his phone before he even thought of a response, but the movement was way too obvious.

His friend, on the other side of the room, didn’t even try to hide his amused expression. “Sure it’s nothin’?”

Jobe sighed, dropping the phone onto his chest. “Go to sleep.”

But the other was already shifting in bed, clearly intrigued. “At least tell me who she is.”

Silence.

His friend frowned. “If you’re hidin’ it, there’s defo somethin’ goin’ on.”

Jobe rolled his eyes, realising that staying quiet wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Some girl I bumped into.”

The other raised his eyebrows. “In Sunderland? And you’re here scrollin’ through her Insta why?”

Jobe didn’t answer.

His friend got the message, but, as curious as always, grabbed his own phone, quickly opening Instagram. “Tell me her name, then. If it’s private, you’re already screwed.”

He didn’t even need to ask—within seconds, he had found the profile. Jobe noticed when he stopped scrolling, his eyes fixed on the screen.

“Hm.”

“Hm, what?”

His mate turned the phone towards him, showing a picture. A party, possibly a birthday—Sarah in the centre, surrounded by friends, a cake in front of her with already blown-out candles. The caption said something about being in her twenties.

His mate’s grin widened. “She’s older than you.”

Jobe didn’t react.

“Bruv.” The other laughed, shaking his head. “You’re always goin’ on about not wantin’ a relationship, no one interestin’ you, and now you’re here checkin’ the Insta of a woman older than you who apparently doesn’t even know who you are?”

Jobe folded his arms. “I never said she doesn’t know.”

His mate raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Not a single mention? Bit odd, innit? ‘Cause, I dunno, she likes football, she’s travelin’ around checkin’ stadiums… and she didn’t recognise you?”

Jobe shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “If she did, she didn’t say.”

His mate let out a low whistle. “Interesting.” Then he laughed, handing the phone back. “So, you gonna tell me you’re not invitin’ her to the match tomorrow?”

“She’s probably already gonna be there.”

His friend blinked in surprise. “You’re takin’ the piss.”

Jobe ignored him.

His mate clutched his chest dramatically. “This is fate, bruv.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

The other laughed again but finally went quiet.

Jobe, on the other hand, stayed awake. The phone beside his bed felt like it was calling him back. He ran a hand down his face, trying to ignore the urge to check Instagram one more time.

But no matter how much he tried to resist, he knew that, at some point, he’d end up messaging her.

***

The stadium pulsed with the energy of the crowd, a wave of chants and shouts echoing under the floodlights. When Jobe stepped onto the pitch, the world around him shrank, narrowing down to the ball and the game ahead. But at the back of his mind, one thought refused to fade: was she here?

He didn’t have to search for long.

Among the thousands of faces, Jobe spotted her. Not because he knew exactly where to look, but because Sarah was impossible to miss. Her golden curls were loose, different from how he had seen them before. The stadium lights brought out the warm tones in her hair, and he noticed she was wearing Sunderland’s colors. It was a small detail, but it did something to him.

Sarah was surrounded by fans, yet she stood out. She wasn’t just another supporter lost in the crowd—there was something different in her stance. A slight tension in her expression, as if she was aware she could be watched. As if she knew he might be looking at her. And he was.

The match started, and Jobe forced himself to focus. But every now and then, in the moments when the tempo slowed, he found himself searching for her again. Sarah didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in the game, her lips slightly parted, her hands gripping the jacket she wore.

Then came the goal. A clean, sharp strike that sent the ball crashing into the back of the net. Jobe didn’t even think. He ran toward the side of the pitch, letting the adrenaline take over. The roar of the crowd surrounded him, but it was her reaction he was looking for.

She was on her feet, phone in hand like everyone else around her, but there was something different about her. A brief moment of hesitation, as if unsure whether to celebrate or pretend it didn’t affect her. But then, a smile slipped through, and Jobe saw the exact moment she let herself feel excited.

The match was over. Sunderland had won, and Jobe joined his teammates in the celebration. But while the others let themselves get carried away by the euphoria, he had somewhere else to be.

He moved toward the edge of the pitch, his eyes scanning the crowd. Sarah was still there, and when their eyes met, he saw it. Saw how she tried to hide her nervousness, the way she looked away for just a second—only to glance back at him.

He stepped closer, just enough for his voice to carry over the noise. The barrier between the field and the stands still separated them, but at that moment, it felt almost nonexistent. Sarah could feel her heartbeat quicken as Jobe approached, his gaze locked on hers with that same intensity that always left her unsettled.

"Found me easily?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Sarah blinked, momentarily confused. The words took an extra second to settle in her brain. She frowned slightly, her mind translating easily before she responded.

"You’re not that… hard to find," she shot back, crossing her arms. The word hard came out with a heavier accent, making Jobe’s smile widen.

"Aren’t I?" A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched her nibble at her lower lip, trying to keep up with the conversation. "Thought you didn’t… know me that well."

He emphasized know on purpose, savoring the way her eyes narrowed, struggling to process the speed of his words. The brief confusion in her expression was downright adorable.

Sarah huffed, rolling her eyes, but her heart was pounding. She knew she was missing some of the subtleties in his words, the hidden meanings slipping through her grasp.

"You like to hear yourself talk, don’t you?" She stumbled slightly over the verb, but her confidence made up for any language mistakes.

Jobe let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating between them like an electric current. Without warning, he tossed his game jersey her way. Sarah caught it on reflex, her fingers brushing against the fabric, still warm from his body. She stared at it as if it were some kind of puzzle, her brain struggling to process both the gesture and his foreign words at the same time.

"What do I do with this?" she asked, her this sounding slightly off, but her expression was perfectly clear.

Jobe watched as she held the jersey, her fingers tracing the number on the back. There was something mesmerizing about it.

"Dunno," he shrugged, deliberately speaking a bit faster. "Just wanted to see your face when you caught it. Worth it."

He saw the exact moment she caught the double meaning behind caught it, the way her eyes widened slightly before narrowing. He loved that split-second delay in her understanding, the way he could practically see the gears turning in her expressive eyes.

Sarah squinted at him, but he caught the playful spark in her gaze. She might not understand every word, but she understood enough to play along. She held the jersey for a moment longer, fingers brushing over the fabric still carrying his scent. Then, she looked back at Jobe, newfound confidence in her stare.

"Does the jersey come with a… message later?" she asked, stumbling slightly over message, but making up for it with the way she held his gaze.

There was something in the way she said it that made him grin. It wasn’t a casual question—it was a challenge. The slight hesitation in her voice, the uncertainty in her pronunciation, only made it all the more captivating. She might not have mastered his language, but she had definitely mastered the art of attraction.

Jobe took a step back, still holding her gaze. The air between them felt charged.

"Yeah," he said, this time deliberately slower, savoring each word. "Try not to ignore me."

And with that, he turned away, leaving Sarah standing there, clutching his jersey and the ghost of the smirk he had thrown her way before disappearing into the crowd of his teammates.

In her mind, Sarah repeated his words, making sure she had understood every single one. The double meaning wasn’t lost on her, even with her limited grasp of English. And the heat rising up her neck had nothing to do with the stadium atmosphere.

And her?

She could only think that she was in real trouble. Not just because of the language barrier—but because of the way her heart raced every time she crossed paths with that footballer who seemed to say much more with his eyes than with his words.

The game was over. The adrenaline still coursed through Jobe's body as he walked through the stadium corridors, heading toward the parking lot. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. He already knew who it was. His dad was at the stadium. And if Mark Bellingham was at the stadium, he'd definitely seen.

Jobe got in the car, slammed the door a bit harder than necessary, and started the engine. Before he could drive off, the phone buzzed again. “Dad” appeared on the screen.

He sighed, grabbed the phone, and accepted the call on speaker while driving home.

“I’m listening,” Jobe said.

“Samuel,” came the voice on the other end.

Great. Off to a good start.

“What’s up?” Jobe asked.

“What was that?”

Jobe closed his eyes for a second.

“Be specific, Dad.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The shirt incident.”

“Ah. That.”

“Yeah, that. Don’t you think? Don’t you realise how that could be seen?”

Jobe let out a laugh through his nose.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Dad. I just gave her a shirt.”

“You gave the shirt to a girl. In front of everyone.”

“So what? Players do that all the time.”

“Players who don’t have your last name.”

Jobe gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means anything you do becomes headline news. The last thing you need right now is someone twisting that story.”

“So now I can’t even be polite?”

“You can’t be naïve, Samuel.”

He chuckled, with no humour.

“Uh-huh. Because Jude never did anything like that, right?”

The silence came first. Then a heavy sigh from the other side of the line.

“Samuel, you’re not your brother.”

“I don’t need you to remind me of that. The world does a pretty good job of it already.”

He accelerated a little, the tension spreading through his body.

“Look, Dad, if you called just to say I need to watch everything I do because I’m a Bellingham, save your breath. I already know.”

“Then act like you know.”

Jobe clenched his jaw.

“We’ll talk later.”

“Samuel—”

He hung up before his dad could finish.

He ran a hand over his face and exhaled slowly, trying to push away the frustration. He understood what Mark was trying to say. But at the same time, he hated that feeling, like every single thing he did had to be calculated.

He hadn’t given the shirt to Sarah for attention. He’d done it because he wanted to. Because, for some reason, when he looked at her in the stands, something made him want her to take a piece of that night with her.

But, of course, none of that mattered.

He grabbed his phone and opened Instagram.

He’d never spoken to Sarah on there before, but now seemed like a good time to start.

“Hey, Sarah...”

Maybe it was just a distraction.

Or maybe it was more than that.

He didn’t want to think about it right now.

She hadn’t sent anything since the voice message, which he clearly knew she hadn’t understood. "Fuck it," Jobe thought, and hit the video call button, watching the screen with growing anticipation.

The phone rang twice before the screen lit up with her image. Sarah was in the back of the Uber, city lights flashing through the window, casting shadows across her face that made her even more intriguing.

She blinked, confused. Her eyes widened slightly, just like they always did when she was caught off guard.

“You really... called me?” she asked, the hesitation in the word "called" revealing her insecurity with the language.

He laughed, leaning back in his seat, watching as she nervously fixed her hair, a gesture he’d noticed she did whenever she wasn’t comfortable with the conversation in English.

“I just wanted to see your face when you didn’t get anything,” he said, speaking a bit slower this time but keeping the teasing smile.

Sarah sighed, processing the sentence for a second before a half-smile appeared on her lips. Jobe noticed how she tilted her head slightly, just like she did when she was trying to form a more complex response.

“I swear I... try,” she started, the word "try" coming out with a stronger accent, “but sometimes it feels like you're speaking in... another language.”

The irony didn’t escape Jobe, who raised his eyebrows with a playful glint in his eyes. He loved how she could be funny even when she didn’t fully master the language.

“That’s kinda... true,” he replied, emphasizing “true” as if he were teaching her the word.

She rolled her eyes, but the smile remained, lighting up her face.

“Idiot,” she said, one of the few words she pronounced without hesitation.

For a few seconds, they sat in silence. He could see the hesitation in her eyes, as if she was struggling with something. Jobe wasn’t stupid—he’d already noticed that Sarah felt insecure about her English, even though she tried to hide it. The way she furrowed her brow slightly when he spoke faster, the way she sometimes moved her lips silently, repeating a word to herself. But he also saw her effort, her desire to keep up with the conversation, to not fall behind. And somehow, he liked it. There was something captivating about the honest vulnerability, the determination that showed even when she stumbled over words.

“Are you almost at the hotel?” he asked, deliberately slowing down his speech.

She nodded, looking away, as if relieved by a question she could easily answer. “Yeah, the Uber’s almost... there,” she replied, the last word coming out as a sigh.

Jobe bit the corner of his lip, not thinking much before saying, “What if I came over there?”

Sarah blinked, surprised. Her eyes quickly returned to the screen, as if checking if she’d heard correctly.

“What?” she asked, confusion written all over her face.

“To talk... in person,” he explained, stressing each syllable of "in person" to help her. “I talk too fast, maybe in person you’ll understand me... better.”

He watched, fascinated, as several emotions crossed her face in seconds. Confusion, surprise, interest, and finally, that hesitation he was already so familiar with. Sarah was torn between desire and caution.

She hesitated. He noticed the internal struggle—part of her wanted to say yes, but the other part was still weighing things up. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she searched for the words.

“And how will you... get to where I am?” she asked, pronouncing “get” with extra care.

Jobe shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on her. "You send me the... location," he replied, subtly mimicking the cautious rhythm of her speech.

Sarah let out a low laugh, the sound stirring something inside him. "And how do I send you the... location without having your... number?" she asked, each pause revealing her mental translation process.

He smiled, picking up his phone from the holder and typing quickly. Within seconds, she received a message in her direct messages. Jobe watched the exact moment the notification appeared, noting how her eyes widened slightly when she saw his name.

Jobe Bellingham: Now you’ve got it. +44 7xxx xxxxxx

Sarah bit her lip, looking at the screen, a gesture he’d noticed she made when she was nervous or focused. When she met his gaze on the call again, her eyes held that unreadable glint that kept him intrigued.

"Alright," she said, finally, the decision made. "I’ll send it."

The simplicity of her response contrasted with the intensity of her gaze. Jobe felt his heart race slightly. It was ridiculous how two words spoken in that tone could have such an effect.

Jobe simply smiled when he received the location. He was already on his way, remembering that her hotel was close to the station she was at. Looking at the map, he calculated it would take less than ten minutes to reach her. Ten minutes that felt like an eternity.

The car stopped in front of the hotel, and Jobe sent another message, typing quickly.

Jobe: “I’m here.”Jobe: "Better come out before some rich old guy thinks I’m a valet and tries to hand me his Ferrari keys."

He watched the hotel entrance with anticipation, wondering if she would get the humor in the message or if she'd need a translator. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t completely understand—he loved that confused expression followed by understanding that lit up her face when he explained something.

Sarah appeared in the hotel lobby, phone in hand, the screen’s glow illuminating her face. Her eyes fixed on the message, probably trying to figure out a word or two. When she saw the black Audi pulling up, she furrowed her brow, crossing her arms in a defensive posture he had already come to recognize.

He lowered the window, leaning out to get a better look at her.

"Why the serious face?" Jobe asked, speaking deliberately slowly, savoring her reaction.

"Because you didn’t even let me... reply," she retorted, the word "reply" coming out with that peculiar accent he found adorable.

He smiled, watching how she tried to keep a straight face even though her eyes betrayed her excitement.

"You took too long."

"What if... it did?" she asked, her grammar not perfect, but the intensity of her gaze compensating for any flaws in language.

The question lingered between them, full of possibilities. It wasn't just about that moment, that encounter. It was about all the word games, glances, and smiles they'd exchanged up until then. About the language barriers that, in some way, only made everything more interesting.

"Then I'd have to go in and ask for a room just to wait for you."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You... do that kind of thing?" The words came out in broken pieces, with a noticeable pause before "do," as if she was mentally organizing the sentence.

He smiled sideways.

"Depends. Would you like it?"

Sarah opened her mouth to retort but just rolled her eyes, biting her lower lip slightly before answering.

"Do you always... answer a question... with another question?" Three distinct pauses punctuated her sentence, the fragmented rhythm revealing her mental translation process.

Jobe adjusted himself in his seat, subtly leaning toward her.

"Only when I like the conversation."

Sarah couldn't hide the smile blooming on her face and looked around to cover it up. Her fingers nervously tapped on her bag, betraying her apparent calm.

"You talk... talk too fast on... audio." She stumbled over the words, repeating "too" as if she needed extra time to find the next ones.

"You’re the one who understands slowly."

"Because you... speak another... language, Jobe." Each pause highlighted her effort in composing the sentence, like she was searching for pieces of a linguistic puzzle.

She lowered her eyes when she said "another language," as if admitting her limitation made her vulnerable. Jobe noticed the subtle movement and slowed his speech. He laughed, not mockingly, but with fascination at the determination in her eyes when they met his again.

Jobe unbuckled his seatbelt. Slowly, without hurry, as if it were a natural move. Sarah furrowed her brow, her eyes locking on the gesture.

"What... are you... doing?" she asked, each pause longer than the last, the sentence coming out in disconnected blocks that betrayed her insecurity.

Jobe grabbed the door handle.

"Letting you in the right way."

"Don't... even... think... about it," Sarah said, her words coming out in staccato, like separate musical notes. The warning finger she pointed made up for the fragility of her broken diction.

He raised his eyebrows, the expression pure provocation.

"Why? It would be a nice gesture. You’d like it."

"Don't even, Jobe. Stay... in that car... before... they see you," she replied, the pauses appearing in the most unexpected parts of the sentence, as if her brain needed little breaks to process each group of words.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the car as if he had all the time in the world. His eyes never left her face, watching every micro-expression.

"Want to talk in Morse code?"

Sarah hesitated for a second, her eyes dropping down as she processed the expression. She took a slight breath before looking back at him, her body language revealing the mental effort.

"I don’t know... if... I should," she finally replied, the pauses making the short sentence even more fragmented, as if each word had to be pulled from a different file in her memory.

Jobe raised his hands, watching how she followed the movement with her eyes, as if she were grateful for the pause to process.

"I’m not going to kidnap you, you already know where I play, where I live, and apparently, you've read about me on the internet. If I disappear with you, you’ll be the one who has to get me out of a police report."

He spoke deliberately slower in the second part, noticing how her eyes narrowed during the rapid flow of words and then relaxed when he slowed down. The tension between them grew with every exchanged word.

She rolled her eyes as she walked around the car, but opened the door and got in before he could say anything more. Jobe watched the fluid movement of her, contrasting with the hesitation in her speech. The physical confidence and the linguistic vulnerability created a combination that intrigued him deeply.

Jobe laughed, locking the door while she adjusted her bag in her lap. He noticed how she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the next exchange.

"Who are you running from, princess?"

Sarah tied her hair into a pineapple bun, her fingers working quickly as she bought herself time to formulate a response. The movement revealed a practice that her English still lacked.

"From... no one. I just... like... to be... efficient," she replied, with prolonged pauses before each key element of the sentence, as if she were mentally consulting a dictionary.

He looked at her sideways, studying how she unconsciously wetted her lips while waiting for his reply. The air in the car seemed thicker with every second of silence. Then he let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Okay, next time I won’t even try."

"Try," she replied, splitting the simple word into two syllables separated by a pause, which gave the statement an almost doubtful tone.

"Except..." He tilted his head thoughtfully, moving a few inches closer to her without seeming intentional. "What if I want to open the door when you get out?"

He deliberately emphasized each syllable of the phrase "when you get out," like a patient teacher, watching with satisfaction when her eyes lit up with understanding.

Sarah huffed, holding back a smile, her chest rising and falling with a deeper breath than usual.

"That’s... another... story." The pauses turned the simple sentence into a small challenge, each word needing its own space and time.

The car fell silent for a moment, only the sound of her breathing and the soft noise of the street around them. The silence between them carried as much meaning as the words. Sarah looked at him and, before he could say anything, spoke slowly, each word separated by a noticeable pause:

"Now... speak... slowly."

Jobe felt a subtle shiver with the almost intimate tone of the request. He stared at her for a second, the smile playing at his lips, his gaze lingering on the details of her face.

And then, deliberately, he let out a string of jumbled words, speeding up each syllable on purpose.

She groaned and threw her head back against the seat, momentarily exposing her neck in a way that made Jobe look away for a split second.

"I... g-give up," she sighed, separating each syllable as if they were independent words, her hands gesturing in frustration, as if trying to catch the words that were flying too fast to be captured.

He laughed, enjoying it more than he should have, the way she became frustrated. There was something vulnerable and yet determined in the way she struggled that attracted him inexplicably.

"Relax. In time, you’ll get the hang of it."

"Learn?" she repeated the word, carrying a mix of doubt and hope. Her eyebrows arched in a questioning expression that Jobe found irresistible.

He shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

"If you keep talking to me, you'll have to learn."

The words hung between them like a veiled promise of more encounters. She fell silent, and he realized he’d said it without much thought, as if he'd already assumed she would keep talking to him. The possibility made his heart race in a way he wasn’t prepared to admit.

Sarah looked at him, her dark eyes shining in the dim light from the car dashboard. She unconsciously wet her lips before responding.

"I think... it’s... worth... the... effort." Each word came out isolated, like islands separated by uneven pauses, the fragmented rhythm contrasting with the determination in her eyes.

The simplicity of the sentence contrasted with the intensity of the look that accompanied it. Jobe felt the weight of those few words as if they were many.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in almost imperceptibly towards her.

"Oh, really?"

She shrugged, a gesture that tried to seem casual, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.

"Maybe... there’s... something... interesting... to... understand." The pauses were so frequent that the sentence seemed to stretch endlessly, as if each word needed to be fished from a river of possibilities.

Her hand adjusted a strand of hair behind her ear as she spoke, a gesture that Jobe followed with his eyes. There was something in her controlled vulnerability that completely disarmed him.

Damn.

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. The silence between them felt alive, pulsing with unspoken possibilities.

But then, he simply smiled, started the car, and said, "Let’s see. So..." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watching how she settled into the seat, apparently conscious of every inch that separated them. "Did you listen to my voice note, or are you still trying to translate?"

Sarah let out a laugh, which seemed to release some of the built-up tension.

"Well... actually... I only understood 'hi Sarah'... and then… it seemed like... you were speaking Hebrew." The sentence came out completely broken, as if each group of words needed to be processed separately before being spoken.

Her fingers mimicked words flying in the air, a spontaneous gesture that contradicted her linguistic hesitation. Jobe noticed how she expressed herself more fluidly through her body when words failed her.

He laughed, shaking his head, his hand momentarily resting on the gearshift just inches from her fingers.

"My English is good, you know."

Between them, the unspoken carried as much weight as the words exchanged. The dance between languages was only the surface of a deeper attraction neither of them was ready to name.

"It’s fast. Like a… movie without subtitles."

Jobe made a thoughtful expression.

"Okay, so you like subtitles?"

"I do. No room for… mistakes." She smiled.

"Alright, then next time I’ll send you an audio description."

Sarah laughed, leaning her head against the seat.

"It should be... co-me-dic. You’re good at... co-medy."

Jobe glanced quickly at her before returning his attention to the road.

"Oh, so I made you laugh?"

"A little."

"This means you like me."

Sarah burst out laughing. She’d posted this part on her Instagram.

"I laugh at... anything."

"Exactly. And it could’ve been anyone in the car with you right now, but it’s me."

Sarah narrowed her eyes, suspicious.

"Are you always... so... con-fi-dent like this or... only when you drive?" He smiled to himself.

"Only when I’m right."

Sarah watched him for a moment, studying the carefree way he drove, his hand resting casually on the gearshift, fingers tapping lightly on the wheel to the soft beat of the music. He seemed like someone who always knew exactly what he was doing, but at the same time, someone who didn’t care much for the rules.

"Do you always invite girls for... mysterious conversations in your car after games?" she asked.

He laughed.

"No. But I’ve never met someone who uses Google Translate to understand what I’m saying."

Sarah shook her head, laughing.

"It’s not my fault if... you talk like YouTube’s automatic subtitles."

Jobe chuckled softly, resting his arm on the wheel while watching her.

"So, what you’re saying is, if I wanted to tell you something important, I’d have to write it down?"

Sarah smiled.

"If you want me to understand... yes."

He tilted his head as if considering the idea.

"Alright."

He grabbed his phone and typed something quickly before turning the screen toward her: I want to see you again.

Sarah blinked, her smile fading slightly. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct.

"That doesn’t... count. You could be saying that... to... anyone."

Jobe raised an eyebrow.

"Then tell me, who else did I send a voice note to and end up at the hotel after the game?"

Sarah looked away for a moment, biting her lip.

"Point for you."

He smiled, satisfied.

"So..." Sarah looked at him, waiting for him to say something more. "You want to see me again too?"

She didn’t answer right away, but not because she didn’t know. She did. She just wanted to savor the moment, the way he was looking at her, waiting. So, instead of speaking, she grabbed his phone and typed. When she finished, she turned the screen toward him.

"Maybe."

Jobe laughed, shaking his head.

"Ah, so it’s like that?"

"Exactly." He ran his tongue over his teeth, still smiling.

"Alright. I like a challenge."

Jobe shouldn’t have been there.

That much was certain.

If someone had asked him right now what he was doing with a girl he met by chance, he would’ve had to come up with a pretty good answer. But the truth was simple: he wanted to see her again.

And she knew that.

Jobe studied Sarah completely, her face seemed almost sculpted. An angelic mix that hid her true age. The reflection of the lights flickered in her hair and in the curious eyes that studied him for a brief second before looking away. Red suited her. And he couldn’t help but notice the game shirt still tied up in her bag. A smile appeared on Jobe's face.

"You really can’t let go of that shirt, huh?" he commented, pointing with his chin.

Sarah blinked, meeting his gaze again. For a second, she seemed surprised that he noticed.

"Did you want me to... throw it away?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jobe shrugged, the corners of his mouth still curled in the beginning of a smile.

"I just think it’s curious. You didn’t want it, but you still took it with you."

She rolled her eyes, but it was impossible to ignore the small gleam of amusement there.

"You gave it to me."

"Yeah, but now I’m wondering if it was a gift or a kidnapping."

Sarah huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. But instead of responding, she untied the shirt from her bag and held it against her chest.

"Want it back?"

Jobe let out a low chuckle.

"No way." Leaning against the car, he pretended to think, his fingers lightly tapping the metal. "Actually... since you're treating my shirt like a collector's item, I think I should sign it."

Sarah blinked, as if unsure she heard him right.

"What?"

She laughed, shaking her head.

"Sign it? You... think that highly of yourself?"

He crossed his arms, feigning indignation.

"I'm a very busy man, Sarah. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime privilege for you."

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp, but laced with amusement.

"So… you’re saying… you don’t plan on seeing me… again?"

Jobe blinked. Oh, so this was how she was going to play it?

He lowered his face, hiding the smile that threatened to form, and tilted his head to the side, studying her.

"Smart." He was already pulling a pen from the car’s console. When he raised the marker, his gaze was locked on hers, waiting for a reaction. Sarah shrugged and tossed the shirt toward Jobe.

"I’ll sign it to make sure it's authentic."

Jobe let out a surprised laugh but tilted his head, watching her as if trying to decipher just how serious she was.

"And you think I’m going to sell it?"

Jobe crossed his arms.

"I don’t know. Some people do crazy stuff for memorabilia."

She pressed the shirt against her chest, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Hm... good idea. I wonder how much they're paying for... used items from Jobe Bellingham?"

Jobe laughed, shaking his head.

"That's what you get for trusting people."

Sarah smiled, but her eyes shifted for a moment. The car was parked in a quieter spot, still close to the hotel. He hadn’t unlocked the door.

"Sign it, before I change my mind... and hand it over to someone at the hotel."

"Where do you want the signature?"

"How about... on the tag?"

Jobe grimaced, earning a genuine laugh from Sarah.

"Wow. That’s disrespectful."

She laughed.

"You asked for it."

Jobe sighed dramatically before signing right in the center of the shirt. But he didn’t just sign it. He wrote a note: "To Sarah, who will use Google Translate to understand... Now you have an authentic signed original."

Jobe handed the shirt back to Sarah, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"Done."

She grabbed the fabric, read the signature, and rolled her eyes.

"You really... think highly of yourself, huh?"

He shrugged, relaxed.

"It’s a natural gift."

Sarah huffed, but tied the shirt to her bag. Before fully closing it, she grabbed her phone. The screen lit up her face, and Jobe noticed she was opening Instagram.

In the reflection on the car window, he could see part of the post: a carousel of three photos. In the first, Sarah was on the street wearing team colors. In the second, there was a picture of the players celebrating a goal—and there he was, among them. He wasn’t the focus of the photo, but he was there. In the third, there was another picture of her.

"Are you going to post that?" he asked, curious.

"Maybe."

Jobe leaned slightly, trying to get a better look at the screen.

"Did I look good?"

Sarah gave him a sarcastic glance.

"If you hadn’t... left, I’d post it anyway."

He nodded, satisfied.

"Fair enough." She turned the phone toward him. "So, you really are going to post it?"

"Of course. It was an interesting game."

"With me in the post? I thought for someone who didn’t want to be seen getting into my car, we’ve moved to a different point." A smile grew on Jobe's lips, revealing the dimple on his right side.

Sarah stared at him, furrowing her brow as she tried to formulate her response in English.

"You... think I... took this picture just because you... showed up in it?" she said slowly, choosing each word carefully.

"Yes," Jobe replied, keeping his confident smile.

Sarah huffed out a laugh, shaking her head.

"You need... to get your feet… on the ground, kid." She gestured toward the ground, making Jobe smile at her effort. "It has nothing to do with... you. I just... thought the scene... was pretty."

Jobe crossed his arms, pretending to be skeptical, enjoying the way she carefully searched for the right words.

"So it was purely... coincidence?" he asked, speaking a bit slower to help her.

"Ex-act-ly," Sarah pronounced, syllable by syllable, triumphant for remembering the word.

Jobe shifted in his seat and smiled to himself, appreciating the small moments when she seemed proud of herself for getting a phrase right.

"Have you noticed that so far... we’ve been talking normally?" he said, emphasizing the last word like a teacher would.

"Don’t say that..." Sarah visibly stiffened and laughed awkwardly, her pronunciation becoming more hesitant.

"Wow, relax." Jobe spoke gently, noticing her nervousness.

Sarah took a deep breath, clearly trying to change the subject.

"What... caption should I put?" She pronounced "caption" in a funny way, the "g" harder than it should’ve been.

Jobe held back a laugh, charmed by her accent.

"You should include a picture of the shirt." he suggested, speaking a little slower.

"Your follow.. was enough." Sarah replied, stumbling on the word "enough." "Actually... you already have my number, you could stop following me?"

Jobe couldn’t help but laugh. The double meaning she unintentionally created amused him deeply.

"Touché," he replied, seeing that she looked confused by the French expression. "I’ll follow you on my private account so you can... return the follow."

Sarah narrowed her eyes, processing the phrase for a moment.

“If I wanted to follow you, I’d already be in your... followers, Jobe Bellingham,” she said, carefully articulating his last name.

“Of course.” He smiled at her effort. “And would you do me the honor of giving me your follow?”

Sarah shrugged dismissively with her hand and handed her phone to Jobe, who quickly followed her private account, returning the phone to her.

“Quite the following,” she commented, examining his profile. “Should I feel... honored?”

“Look, you’ve got me as your private... English tutor,” Jobe emphasized the word “private” with a mischievous smile. “I think so.”

The two laughed in complicity. Jobe loved how she scrunched her nose when she didn’t fully understand a word but pretended she did.

“Hm. So why haven’t you posted yet?” he asked, pointing at her phone.

She paused, her fingers freezing on the screen. Jobe noticed how she bit her lip when she was concentrating.

“I... I’m thinking about the... caption,” Sarah answered, again with that peculiar pronunciation of “caption.”

“If it’s not about me, then it shouldn’t be... difficult,” Jobe pronounced the last word very slowly, as if teaching.

She rolled her eyes, but clearly realized he was right. Jobe noticed the small gesture of frustration she made, running a hand through her hair.

“You’re... annoying,” she said, emphasizing each syllable.

“I prefer... fun,” he replied in the same rhythm, gently mimicking her cadence.

Sarah huffed and typed quickly: "Good atmosphere, good game, good company." Jobe leaned over her shoulder, enchanted by the way she furrowed her brow while typing.

“Good company?” he repeated, savoring the irony.

She glanced at him sideways, her eyes revealing more than her words.

“The crowd... was nice,” Sarah said, stretching out the last syllable.

Jobe tilted his head, analyzing the way she said it, as if testing the word on her tongue.

“The crowd, of course,” he agreed, his tone betraying his disbelief.

Sarah rolled her eyes again, a gesture that Jobe was starting to find adorable.

“And what would you... put?” she asked, her pronunciation improving when she was more relaxed.

Jobe pretended to reflect for a moment, his index finger tapping his chin theatrically.

“The moment I had the honor of... witnessing the best of football,” he suggested, emphasizing "witnessing" to subtly teach the word.

Sarah let out a laugh, shaking her head. The sound was musical, Jobe thought.

“I’m not... posting that,” she said, laughing.

“You should…” he insisted, stretching the word.

She looked back at her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen. Jobe watched, fascinated by the concentration on her face.

“I’ll put ‘Special memory from... today’s game,’” Sarah pronounced “special” with extra care.

Jobe raised an eyebrow, theatrically disappointed.

“Wow, how... common,” he said the word slowly so she could understand. “Sounds like just another game.”

Sarah huffed, then laughed. The sound made something inside Jobe stir.

“And what would you... suggest then?” she asked, emphasizing "suggest" as if she had just learned the word.

He smiled mischievously, leaning in a little closer.

“Look, mom, I met the best... football player of my life,” Jobe said, pausing strategically so she could follow.

Sarah’s eyes widened, the exaggerated gesture making Jobe stifle a laugh.

“You’re impossible,” she replied, amused.

“Just trying to make things more... authentic,” he pronounced “authentic” slowly, like a patient teacher.

She huffed again, laughing, and shook her head. Without thinking too much, she hit the post button. Jobe watched the small, silent celebration she made, biting her lower lip in satisfaction.

“Tell me something…” Sarah started, measuring her words. “Do you always give your... shirt to girls you barely... know?”

Jobe glanced at her quickly, as if pondering his answer. In fact, he was enjoying her effort in forming such a complex sentence.

“Only when they... deserve it,” he replied, emphasizing the last word.

“And what did I do to... deserve it?” she asked, the last word coming out as an almost perfect imitation of him.

He smiled, looking away toward the street, pretending to contemplate something out the window.

“Caught it,” he said simply.

Sarah crossed her arms, trying not to smile. Jobe noticed how she took a deep breath before each more elaborate response.

“That doesn’t count,” she said, the denial sounding strong. “I caught it because you... threw it.”

“Oh, so you wanted me to... catch it again?” he asked, emphasizing the verb to help her understand the wordplay.

She stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes dancing between his. Then she casually responded, but with extra care in her pronunciation:

“Maybe.”

Jobe let out a nasal laugh, shaking his head, admiring how she could say so much with just one word.

The atmosphere between them was excellent, but Sarah needed to get back to the hotel. Her time to return to Manchester was approaching. Jobe watched every move she made, as if he wanted to memorize her gestures.

Sarah was about to head up to the hotel but hesitated for a second. Jobe saw when she glanced at the shirt tied to her bag and then at him, as if deciding whether to say something more. He loved the indecision in her eyes.

“Don’t you have to... wake up early tomorrow?” she asked, articulating "wake up" carefully.

“Nah, tomorrow’s off,” he replied casually.

“Good for you,” she said, almost without an accent this time.

She seemed distracted, which only made it easier for him to... move a little closer. Not too much. Just enough for his voice to drop lower.

“And you?” Jobe asked, his eyes fixed on hers.

Sarah blinked, as if Jobe’s proximity had made her lose her train of thought for a moment. He noticed how her breathing subtly changed.

“I don’t know,” she laughed, somewhat awkwardly. “I have to check my... schedule.”

She was nervous. But not in a bad way. The way he liked. Jobe could see how she searched for words that would normally come easily in her native language.

Jobe tilted his head slightly, watching her face. The shine in her eyes, the gentle curve of her mouth, the way her hair framed her face. She was beautiful. Ridiculously beautiful. And he had already wasted too much time trying to ignore that.

“So…” he began, looking directly at her. “If I did this now…” Sarah furrowed her brow, processing the words more slowly due to her nervousness. “Do what?” she asked, her pronunciation betraying her confusion. Obviously, she wasn’t going to make it easy. Jobe loved that about her. Jobe let out a low laugh, not breaking eye contact. “If I kissed you,” he said, articulating each syllable clearly. Sarah blinked quickly, her eyes widening slightly. “What?” she asked, genuinely confused. She looked at him like he had just spoken in a secret code. His accent, the speed of his speech... whatever it was, she clearly hadn’t understood. Jobe found it adorable how she tilted her head, trying to process. He could repeat it. He could try to speak slower. Or… Jobe grabbed his phone and opened Google Translate. Typing quickly, with little patience. Sarah watched, curious, leaning forward to see the screen. “Are you really... translating that?” she laughed, pronouncing "translate" with difficulty. He didn’t respond. Just hit play. The robotic voice of the app broke the silence of the night: "If I kissed you now, would you let me?" Sarah’s eyes widened, shock evident on her face. Jobe watched, fascinated, as a sequence of emotions passed over her features. She looked at the phone. Then at Jobe. Then back at the phone. He waited, his heart racing against his will. And in the end... She laughed. Not just any laugh. A genuine, delightful laugh, the kind that makes a person throw their head back and almost lose their breath. Jobe was hypnotized by the sound. “You are... unbelievable,” she said, each syllable punctuated with a trace of laughter. She lightly touched Jobe’s arm in an automatic gesture, shaking her head, still laughing. The touch sent a shiver across his skin. “Good night, Jobe,”

Sarah said his name perfectly, without a trace of an accent. And then... she simply got out of the car, leaving behind a Jobe Bellingham who, for the first time in a long time, didn’t know whether to laugh or curse his own luck. He sighed, slipping the phone into his pocket, watching her walk toward the hotel entrance. “I’m screwed,” he murmured to himself. And the worst part was that he knew he liked it.

dividers by @cafekitsune

pictures from pinterest and ig

faceclaim: @/amaka.ae on ig!

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notaorbital · 1 year ago

Note

hi I really like your mb and I'm new here. Do u have any suggestions or tips to make mb? like where did u get the pics and the captions.

𝓜oodboards: a guide for beginner blogs!

I decided to bring here a small tutorial that can help other blogs that are starting out and still have questions that need clarification, with tips and links that you may need. I wrote this from my point of view of creating moodboards and I tried to be as brief as possible in my explanation, there may be errors in English as I'm not fluent in that language and everything here was translated using Google Translate, any questions you can contact me via asks or by message.

how do I find pics for moodboards?

Pinterest is where you'll find most of the images you'll use on your moodboards, so create boards on Pinterest separating by color and aesthetic to make it easier to find. On Tumblr there are some blogs with cool stuff too (like @/m0ney, @/angelicdewdrop, @/rkivo, @/ohimesama-okinawa and @/bambiiis for example), but in this case I recommend putting the credits in the alt text.

Some blogs have a pinned post or carrd where they put the link to their Pinterest account (my Pinterest here). You can follow them and save the pins they post/save on the app. I also suggest looking at the other profiles they follow on Pinterest to find more photos to use. By doing this, you will influence the Pinterest algorithm, which will recommend more related pins in the feed.

You can also search on Pinterest for the aesthetic and color you want (like hime gyaru, y2k, dollcore, coquette pink aesthetic, coconut girl e etc.).

how to make moodboards + tips:

Well, it's not such a complicated thing for me. I generally make moodboards with 6 or 9 images, taking inspiration from the moodboards of other blogs that I admire, so I can get an idea of how to make the captions and how to position the photos in a way that matches them.

To make it easier, first I create the moodboard and then I look for an icon of a kpop idol that can match the aesthetics and color of the moodboard. The reverse can also be done: first choose an icon and make a moodboard for that image, paying attention to the color palette and tonality (and for some reason, for me it's better to create moodboards in Tumblr's light mode instead of dark mode).

When I finish the moodboard, I add the caption, the hashtags (which will be very important for your post to reach other blogs) and a divider or blinkies. Dividers can be found on tumblr by searching for "dividers", on my blog there are some (other blogs with beautiful dividers that I recommend: @fairytopea, @v6que, @plutism, @h-aewo).

If you need png, I recommend these blogs here: @slipng, @pngcabinet, @heemeiji, @honeyluvsw, @hibscubus. Tip: If you want to add more than 10 photos in a single post, add it via Chrome.

tutorial on how to make this gif here

tutorial on how to make these gif here

website to split a photo into two or more parts

how to create captions:

To make the captions, I use parts of songs that I like, but they can also be album or song names, movie names, a phrase you thought, etc. The symbols you will put in the caption can be found on this website or just by searching for "symbols", "kpop symbols", "kaomojis" on tumblr (blogs with cute symbols that I recommend: @v6que, @l-unitas)

If you want to use a different font for the letters, there are these two websites (01 and 02). And to change the color, there are also these two tutorials (01 and 02).

what to do to make your blog "popular":

Add popular hashtags that relate to the content you are posting. If you use almost the same tags as other big blogs, your posts will have more reach. Posting frequently and your account looking nice and organized helps too.

Ask several other popular blogs to promote your account. This was very important for my profile to grow in the number of followers and engagement, Also make friends with other blogs that make moodboards, reblog and comment on their posts and tag them in your own moodboards.

Join the events that some blogs do, as they offer good prizes like reblogs if you win and join some tumblr communities. And remember to have patience, as it often takes a while to get good engagement on Tumblr.

#୨ ♡ ୧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀୨ ♡ ୧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀୨ ♡ ୧ #kpop icons #kpop moodboard #moodboard #tutorial #how to make a moodboard

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thepersonperson · 4 months ago

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Little Details in JJK

I've decided to put a couple of minor details I noticed and thought were neat in one place to keep track of them. They're all basically like this:

They never patched that hole up but they removed all the talismans lmao. Planning how to kill Sukuna in the room Yuji was almost executed with the finger that made that hole goes hard though.

Notes before we start.

1) This features Miguel Oduol, Yorozu, and Sukuna.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility.

3) Raws are from mangareader(.)to.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Miguel Oduol

We all know Miguel Oduol is from Kenya, however what you might not know is that he appears to be from the Maasai tribe specifically! I'm going to link a lot of resources about this, so keep in mind that sometimes they can be incidentally racist. (Aka a minority is tribe is discussed like an alien species.)

Cursed Technique Origins

I know a lot of people criticized Miguel's Cursed Technique (CT) for being a dance, however, it is directly related to him being Maasai. Adumu is the Maasai jumping dance practiced by warriors to show off their strength and agility. This is the dance Miguel appears to be doing when he first activates his CT against Sukuna.

(Read more on the Maasai Jumping Dance here!)

If you noticed, Miguel's baldness also appears to be based it being a common hairstyle for the Maasai regardless of gender. It should also be noted that his CT, Hakuna Laana, is Swahili for No Curses. Swahili is an official language of Kenya and is spoken by the Maasai even though they have their own language (also called Maasai or Maa).

Other Details

Since the Maasai are nomadic and move around based on the weather, their dwellings reflect that lifestyle. This appears to be why Miguel is drawn outside of a hut in that one flashback—it's just how Maasai homes look.

Another thing done right was the local flora. It's super easy for creators to mistakenly apply foreign flora to the wrong region. (Take for instance, the iconic Saguaro cactus being included in settings based on Chihuahuan Desert in Texas, when this cactus exclusively grows in the Sonoran Desert, which is basically just Arizona and Baja California.)

The trees in the background are called Baobab trees and they do in fact grow in Kenya.

Why Maasai?

I think Gege picked the Maasai tribe in particular for Miguel because of their belief in curses. See from the following sources:

"While generational curses are normal within the Maasai worldview..."

"For the Maasai people, death does not traditionally hold any secrets of the afterlife. Once an individual has passed, their journey has ended. All of their possessions and any of their sins are transferred to the loved ones who survive them."

"Social control among the Maasai rests ultimately on the general belief in the power of elders to bless and to curse..."

(Please note that the word they use for curse (engooki) appears to be sometimes translated as sin.)

So when Miguel threatens to curse Geto in JJK0 if he dies?

He really fudging means it. (Could also explain why he's so particular about not dying. He doesn't believe he'll be reincarnated later, that's just it for him!)

The only thing about Miguel that didn't seem to fit with Maasai practices is the black rope. This is a stretch, but it might be based on their well-known bead work:

"Black– Symbolizes unity and solidarity. It also denotes the struggles the Maasai endure, which bring them together as a people."

Miguel certainly struggled when using that on Gojo.

Yorozu

This is mostly me complaining about what got lost in translation. Yorozu is basically a bug and I cannot wait for her weird insect shtick to get animated.

Best Bug

The first instance of her speech being bug-coded I noticed is when Yorozu yells 斬って (Kitte) 7 times total (7.5 if you count the modified 斬 (ki) at the end.

The Japanese is objectively funnier because Yorozu is screaming "CUT ME!!" over and over like cicada. The English translation gave her a poetic flair she doesn't have.

This also happens with her Domain Expansion 三重疾苦 (Shikkushikku Shikku) where 三重 (Shikkushikku) means triple and 疾苦 (Shikku) means suffering.

Additional context shamelessly stolen from the JJK wiki:

"The kanji shikku (疾苦 (しっく) ) refers to the suffering brought on by illness, affliction, or simply hardship in life. Akutami uses the pronunciation shikku as a pun of the borrowed English word "sick" (シック shikku).

Given Yorozu's excessive love for Sukuna, it is likely that the domain's name references "lovesickness", and specifically a song by Japanese VOCALOID producer PinocchioP (sung by Hatsune Miku) called "Sick Sick Sick" (シックシックシック), which is about how love can be a sickness."

(Btw シックis read as Shikku.)

My best attempt to carry forward the puns and repetition for this domain would be Triply Tristful Tribulations. (Someone please come up with something better.)

Yorozu's death is also bug-coded. Mahoraga literally swats her like a roach.

There's also something to be said about Sukuna refusing to touch her in battle and using anything but his actual body to kill her. That's kind of how most people are when it comes to killing bugs.

Not Bug Related

The thing Yorozu is lounging on in the Heian flashback is a "pillow" called a takamakura. It's a special headrest that was slept on to keep fancy hairstyles intact since they would take hours to prepare.

Since Yorozu's hair is down and she just kind of runs around pussy out while ignoring all the social rules, it speaks to her non-noble heritage. (Remember she was recruited by the Fujiwaras and is from Aizu.) She also has a bad habit of biting her fingernails when she's concentrating.

Another fun detail is that when she declares that she's going to be the one at Sukuna's side. Yorozu directly points at Uraume who is already standing there. This of course, is called back to in the epilogue where Uraume remains at Sukuna's side.

What I really like about this is that Yorozu seems to believe that only a romantic relationship will ease Sukuna's loneliness, and she's proven wrong. The platonic/familial bond with Uraume winds up being the one Sukuna chooses and it's good enough for him. I may be biased, but I appreciate when non-romantic relationships are considered just as satisfying as romantic ones.

I also have to shout out Yorozu for not seeing Uraume as competition. She still wants them around even if she marries Sukuna. It's so easy to have an obsessive character like her be irrationally jealous, but she's basically willing to adopt Uraume which is adorable. (This also goes for Hana, who in a worse manga, would see Tsumiki as competition for Megumi.)

Sukuna

This is just a compilation of my favorite Sukuna girlfailure moments.

Self-Depreciation

"The bough that bear most hang lowest." comes from a proverb that means "those who have the most to offer are often the least boastful, much like tree branches that bend under the weight of their fruit."

When Sukuna tells Jogo that his "head doesn't bear much" he's warning him about his lack of humility (aka not bowing enough) and calling him worthless at the same time. Pretty clever, right?

What makes this a girlfailure moment is that by this logic, Sukuna is inadvertently declaring that he's worth less than the ones he's looking down on and that his arrogance is a sign of posturing. If you pointed this out to him, he'd probably kill you, but it's kind of funny he overlooked the implication.

Manji Kick

When Yuji tries to throw hands with Sukuna after being killed, he tries to kick his gruncle in the face and misses.

This doesn't stop Yuji! Eventually he pulls off a successful Manji Kick against Mahito.

This means that even though Sukuna has dodged this move before, even though he has witnessed Yuji landing this move...

...he somehow managed to get with it in his "strongest" original form.

He Might Be Autistic

I promise I'll elaborate more on Sukuna's autism in a different post, but he's on par with Yuji in taking things at face value sometimes. Here is my favorite example.

He really took his nephew at his word and got punched in the face for it...

The Knives

When Sukuna's technique is first properly introduced, 2 knives represent it. The one on the left is a sujihiki (associated with Dismantle) while the one on the right is a burja (associated with Cleave). Uraume winds up using a burja when cutting the curses for a bath.

The thing about the sujihiki is that it's primarily used for scaling and filleting fish. You know, like for Gojo Satoru, the fish he scaled then bisected with Dismantle. The burja is used for percision cutting which is probably why Uraume uses it for the special preparation of curses. (Burjas also aren't that big, so I'd like to believe that's Sukuna's knife they're using.)

Anyways, I leave you with a panel comparison of Gojo punching Uraume like he did Hakari and Yuta. (Sukuna dodging their flying body will never not be funny.)

Gojo and Sukuna have really questionable ideas about guardianship.

#Gege puts so much effort into the smallest of details. Love that level of perverse dedication to one's craft.#This is how I sneak in my sleeper Miguel agenda. You Will appreciate him.#Yorozu they could never make me hate you. I think Sukuna was right about her and Gojo getting along. They'd be so awful together.#I think JJK becomes peak when you acknowledge that every character is some level of goofball loser. Sukuna is just really good at hiding it #It also becomes funnier if you choose to read Uraume's glazing of Sukuna as a ''my dad can beat up your dad'' kind of thing.#I'm also choosing to read the Shinjuku fight as an evil adoption arc.#cactus yaps #miguel oduol #yorozu #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 1 year ago

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Love Bites {Masterlist}

With your memory spotty, you gravitate toward the first person you see—an old friend from a very old past. But Astarion is keeping plenty of secrets...and he's never been the best liar. How long will it take before his deceptions unravel? And what will you do when you realize just how much damage he's done?

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, vampire spawn!Tav, fem!Tav, manipulative but guilty/regretful Astarion, Astarion's sexual trauma, Cazador, vampire bite, reader is turned into a spawn, reader is technically one of Astarion's victims

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, consensual sex, mirror sex, riding, fingering, oral, blood kink, bite kink, loving sex, non-descriptive noncon/dubcon (Astarion’s trauma), Astarion experimenting with his boundaries

Total Word Count: 47,397 words (87 pages)

Notes: The title of this fic (and some of its chapter titles) is heavily inspired by Def Leppard's song Love Bites.

Posting Schedule can be found on my {Updates Page}

CONTENT NOTE: Where Astarion's perspective comes into this fic, I tried writing his experience with his hurt that he has been treated this way along with his "this is what I do" mentality; he's very back and forth about the abuse he's endured and some of my writing reflects that. If that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable in anyway, I completely understand and I encourage you to leave the fic at any point. However, I do believe writing this perspective is necessary, as his blasé take on his sexual trauma is one that I myself have struggled with, as I am sure other survivors have as well.

☟ story parts linked below ☟

Best Unremembered {Chapter 1} Waking up with a spotty memory and the only person you do remember is jarring enough—but it only gets worse when the people who remember you are monsters and strangers.

Walking Corpses {Chapter 2} Astarion's night spent searching for prey is interrupted by an unwelcome feeling of familiarity. Your life is derailed by recognizing a long-dead friend.

Little Love {Chapter 3} Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.

The Golden Elf {Chapter 4} Sometimes, vampires choose their spawn specifically. Sometimes, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time and are lost to their loved ones for centuries. These days, that's all you can think about.

Little Star, Little Sun {Chapter 5} A long-awaited reunion that doesn't go quite as planned can lead to many things, especially when two manipulators both lay their traps for one another. Though is it really a trap when all you want to do is spare your lover from yet another night of torment?

Love Bites {Chapter 6} Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Love Bleeds {Chapter 7} Fangs gleam in the shadows and a coffin lies open nearby. Vampire lords are nasty creatures; even a changed heart can do very little when there are claws around it.

On My Knees {Chapter 8} A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Second Chances {Epilogue} Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Love Bites Soundtrack — 3h50min

Chapter 1: tracks 1 - 6 Chapter 2: tracks 7 - 13 Chapter 3: tracks 14 - 19 Chapter 4: tracks 20 - 26 Chapter 5: tracks 27 - 32 Chapter 6: tracks 33 - 40 Chapter 7: tracks 41 - 46 Chapter 8: tracks 47 - 53 Epilogue: tracks 54 - 60

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

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gayszlen · 11 months ago

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For the yet-to-be-informed, let me preach to you the gospel of Das gayszlen

What is Das Gayszlen?

Das gayszlen, generally translated as the "whip" is a technique in historical longsword fighting from 15th century German tradition. The basic mechanics of the gayszlen are as such: a single handed strike with the nondominant or lower hand, where the sword is released from a traditional grip to allow the blade to sweep towards the leg of your opponent. Some also define other one handed strikes, slices, or thrusts as a gayszlen, but (in my experience) the more common interpretation is the narrower definition I provided. There is some difficulty however in knowing definitively how it was used historically, beyond the general difficulty in knowing anything for certain in HEMA that comes with the territory of reviving a dead art. Much proverbial ink has been spilled online about how, when, and if it is appropriate to use, and many consider it to be a cheap trick, not to be used in serious competition or incorporated into a revival of historical fencing systems. I have Thoughts™ about it and my new URL change inspired me to detail those thoughts, continued below.

Where does it come from?

Ok. so. maybe "15th century german tradition" is a bit generous. There is a grand total of ONE source for the gayszlen, which is in a fechtbuch (fencing book) by fencing master and author Hans Talhoffer, one of the most influential and prolific of his time. His numerous manuals cover a wide range of weapons and techniques including grappling, dagger, polearms, mounted and armoured combat, as well as some more silly things like duelling/long shields and "man vs woman" duels (last two pictured below).

Despite all that and multiple depictions of many of the techniques for these silly "niche" styles of combat (at least in the context of modern HEMA practice, they likely were somewhat prevalent at the time and used to resolve legal disputes) there is only one illustration of the gayszlen, in one of Talhoffer's books. It depicts an exchange between a fencer in a "free point" (afaik the only time that term is used as well, though it is a position that is quite common in german longsword fencing, being a sort of hanging guard or the midpoint of a strike like a zwerchhau) and another performing the gayszlen against the aforementioned fencer, shown below (figure on the right is performing the gayszlen).

You may notice the text on the image, next to each figure! These say Ain fryes ortt and Das gayszlen, again translated as "a free point" and "the gayszlen". You may ask "but what does the actual caption or description say about it?!" I'm so sorry to disappoint you, and I share in your misery: this is all there is. Truly sad, I know. This lack of source material is (in my opinion) why there is so much difficulty defining it and so much debate over its historical usage and value in modern use.

So how do people interpret it?

As stated earlier, the (general) consensus is that it is a one handed strike (a hit, hew, or cut, as opposed to a thrust or draw/push slice) made with the offhand to the lower half of the opponent's body. One of the main disagreements on how to interpret this is whether the sword is "whipping" or cutting to the left from the right, or from the right to the left. Based on the foot position, it might look like the fencer performing the gayszlen (hereafter referred to as G) is bringing the sword from their left side to swing into the opponent's (hereafter referred to as F) left calf. However, this hand position and movement of the sword leaves G entirely open to attack anywhere on their torso or the right side of their body generally. An example of me (right) executing this interpretation is below: you can see that I do actually get the hit, but my opponent nearly hits me with the first strike to the right side of my head, where I am most vulnerable, and follows it up with another strike to my head. If this scenario played out with sharp swords and no protective gear I would lose this fight.

Another interpretation of the gayszlen is this: G holds the sword in any guard on the right side of their body (higher guards may be better for generating more force or deciding to do literally anything other than the gayszlen) and releases the sword from their right hand, holding the pommel in the left and sweeping the sword towards F's right calf. in the picture we have, it may be that the "free point" is meant to be a response to the gayszlen, and therefore F is retracting their foot to avoid the gayszlen, while striking G to their unprotected body. An example of me (left) attempting to execute this interpretation is below: even though my opponent fails to parry or suppress my attack, it wasn't necessary. I didn't have the reach to hit her leg, though her dodge may have saved her even if I had been a bit closer to begin or had extended farther.

Something that I believe supports this second interpretation is the general attitude of historical German longsword manuals to favor attacks and guards from above, to high openings, or generally closer to the upper half of the body than lower attacks and guards. A reason for this is detailed in many European sword systems, namely the destreza rapier tradition, thibault by extension, and meyer.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/tPHbG28niyc

The above image and video are pretty simple explanations, the core idea being that a sword and arm extended at the height of the shoulder (or nearer the shoulder) will have more forward reach than a sword and arm extended higher or lower than the shoulder. Because of this, F theoretically has somewhat of a reach advantage over G, as their sword and arm are closer to their shoulder. though the utility (as I'll talk about more later) of the gayszlen is that it is done in a grip that extends G's reach beyond a normal grip like F has.

There are also interpretations that point to it being a thrust (like I attempt below) which is supported by similar techniques showing up in other European sword systems, which I could spend a whole equally long post talking about, but this is plenty long as is, maybe a topic for another time. The two lame reasons I have for not liking this interpretation is that a thrust doesn't seem very "whiplike", and also a thrust to the legs with one hand is harder to pull off than a cut to the legs or a one handed thrust to the torso.

How can I incorporate the gayszlen into my modern HEMA practice?

To preface this, throughout all of this I'm mixing terms and concepts from Fiore and Liectenauer and Talhoffer and Meyer and probably some other stuff. I primarily study and practice Liechtenauer blossfechten via Ringeck, Danzig, and Lew, as well as most of Fiore's system. This is just my opinion on what purpose the gayszlen can serve in the frog DNA filled world of HEMA longsword, this is not pure to any martial art system, just an application for the sport.

That being said: I believe the gayszlen's place in modern longsword fencing is similar to that of guards like the boar's tooth, long tail, or the key, all of which can use distance deceptively. they place the sword further back than it would be in an iron gate or a plow (guards which are somewhat close to those I mentioned) and allow the fencer using them to seem less threatening than they would with more aggressive guards. Likewise, I often find myself throwing gayszlens from positions where I'm somewhat retracted or seemingly out of distance, or preparing for an attack to another opening. This can often allow an attack at an unexpected timing or from an unexpected angle. I find it works well when your opponent is static in a guard and you to a distance juuust outside of where you could hit them with a normal grip, and the switch to a one handed pommel grip gives you the couple inches you need to get the hit, and hopefully enough speed to avoid getting beaten away by their sword. One of the big dangers with the gayszlen is the opportunity it presents for getting hit. When you employ this technique, you give up basically all protection your sword has to offer, you can't block any incoming attacks, and you don't have a good enough grip to bat your opponent's sword out of the way. This means that if you don't plan well, you leave yourself totally open to a double or a hit to you if they avoid your gayszlen. See below! The fencer attempting the gayszlen (right) goes in with his head down and totally unprotected, allowing the opposing fencer to get a really beautiful hit to his head as she dodges his gayszlen. This is what you should do if you encounter someone who is eager to use the gayszlen and you wish to discourage them.

A safer position (both to avoid getting hit and to avoid injury, as I'll mention in the next section) is a more upright stance and a deep lunge, though keeping your shoulder up, as I mentioned earlier, reduces your range to that lower point.

Why don't some people allow it in tournaments?

Many tournaments, in my area and others, don't allow gayszlens. some ways this manifests are bans on all one-handed cuts, all one handed strikes altogether, including thrusts, hits to the leg below the knee, etc. Some people just don't like the gayszlen, think it's too hard to judge, think it doesn't have enough historical basis, or think it is dangerous to the person doing it or the person having it done to them. A lot of those reasons are laid out in this article, which, while I disagree with most of the points, makes those points pretty well. It's also the first result when you search on google for gayszlen, which makes me sad :( Another argument regarding the safety that isn't mentioned in that article is that to get additional reach and evade strikes from above, some people get really low when executing a gayszlen, even exposing the back of their head or body, which can lead to some really nasty hits to the back of your head or your spine, which are vulnerable areas even when wearing gear, are are often the parts of the body that have the least protective gear. In my opinion, any ruling that is intended to ban gayszlens that we've seen is too broad. banning one-handed cuts (or strikes altogether) means that whole sections of manuscripts or traditions (such as fiore's uno mano plays) can't be performed, banning cuts to the legs or parts of the legs can give an advantage to taller fencers, discarding them automatically because they're too difficult to judge the quality of can punish those who have worked to perfect them safely, etc. At the end of the day it doesn't really make a huge difference one way or the other, and every tournament organizer is biased in the way they make their ruleset one way or the other, but I think the gayszlen is unfairly maligned. In my opinion, with proper attention to levels of force, protective equipment, and judging, the gayszlen deserves a place in modern HEMA tournaments.

ALSO IT HAS GAY IN IT TEEEHEE!!

some people pronounce it "guy-slen" and I usually say "gay-slen" and I don't speak modern or medieval german so idk how it should be pronounced but I like saying gay :) because homosexuality get it???? I

I've made the gayszlen a bit of a meme in my local scene by shouting "GAYSZLEN" whenever I do it, like an anime character. This is typically regarded with friendly annoyance, and it makes hitting this silly ass technique SO much more satisfying and makes whiffing it a lot less embarrassing :)

anyways thanks for reading my long ass post ily <3 if anyone has additional thoughts, please leave them in the comments! I'd rather not debate anything, but I'd be happy to discuss intricacies of the gayszlen's use and interpretation if you're nice about it!

#hema #longsword #infodump #gayszlen #my post

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mgopinoon · 2 months ago

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Please read

I’ve realized that copyright is a very important topic in some countries, and I wanted to clarify a few things about it because I had an incident yesterday related to this issue.

When I first started following Austin, I would come across photos or videos of him online that no one had posted or shared on social media. And I’d think, “How has no one seen this yet?” So I decided to create a Twitter and Tumblr account to share this content with other people who like Austin as much as I do—people who enjoy seeing his face and sharing content about him, especially since he’s not very active on social media and we often survive on crumbs.

I say this because I’ve never cared about being the page with the most followers or the most popular. I only care about sharing with people who think like me—who love and respect Austin.

In every fandom, the same thing happens: someone finds a new photo of Austin, posts it on social media, and then other fans start reposting it without really knowing who took it. At least for me, what matters is that Austin is in the picture, and I honestly don’t care about anything else. Many of us follow that same pattern.

I’ve uploaded lots of photos without captions, and I admit I often don’t know who took them. Also, just so you know, my native language is Spanish, and I’m still not confident enough to write in English without using a translator. That’s why I usually post the photo quickly and leave it without any text.

I’ve even edited photos that I later see all over the internet, but honestly, I don’t mind at all. I’m happy people enjoy them, because as I’ve said before, all I want is to share with others about Austin—nothing more.

Now, if I ever post a photo that you took and you want credit, I will never have a problem giving proper credit. What bothers me—and the reason I’m writing this long message—is the way some people ask for it.

For example, yesterday I posted some photos of Austin from a press conference. I thought they were from Getty Images, but I found them on Instagram without a watermark. Then I received a comment from the person who took them, written in a very unpleasant and sarcastic tone, “congratulating” me for the shots—as if I had claimed they were mine. I’ve never said that, and honestly, I haven’t even had the chance to meet Austin in person, so obviously I didn’t take the photos.

If I ever share something without credit and that upsets you, I truly apologize, but my intention is never to disrespect anyone or take credit for something I didn’t do.

What really surprises me is how some people seem unable to address things without being rude or arrogant. It’s not hard to say, “Hey, I took that photo, can you give me credit?” That’s all it takes—and I’ll happily do it.

Thanks for reading.

Chely.

#austin butler

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jokeroutsubs · 1 year ago

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🎈🍰Nace Birthday Special🍰🎈

Nace Jordan's interview for Suzy magazine, published 14.06.2024. English translation by drumbeat and @beeoftheanxieties, proof read by TWT klamstrakur.

📝ENG Translation: Joker Out's Nace Jordan: 60 Kilograms to Happiness

Twenty-nine-year-old Nace Jordan is considered one of the most emotional, thoughtful, and responsible Slovenian musicians.

CAPTION: He’s spreading tolerance and respect to everyone.

He was the last one to join the group of four highly admired young men, but that doesn't mean he's the fifth or the spare wheel. His inspiring story makes him a great role model for teenagers, showing that working on yourself is worthwhile, because you never know when an extraordinary opportunity will come your way. After making a major change in his lifestyle, he got rid of past burdens to focus on a bright, melodic future. With the loving support of his girlfriend, the first signs of a family are already visible. They've been joined by Pino, an adorable dachshund, who brought new responsibilities and lots of joy.

CAPTION: Joker Out gained a first-class member with Nace.

INTERVIEWER: How quickly did you feel accepted as fully fledged member, considering you were not a co-founder of Joker Out?

Nace: Initially it might have appeared as if I instantly took on the role of bass guitarist with confidence, although deep down I was quite confused. The guys already had their banter, even a kind of a jargon I didn't feel familiar with. They are after all five years younger than me, almost a different generation. But they have welcomed me in a very embracing way, we have started to develop a communal story and we have become a unit. Even after we had recorded 'Carpe Diem' and I was offered a permanent place in the band, I was still haunted by the feeling that I might not be perceived easily as a part of the band by the most devoted fans.

Was Eurovision your ultimate test?

Sort of. I was told I aced it, and as a fill-in member, it made me happy when the decision to welcome me into the family was final. The whole idea was to first try and see how compatible we were, without any pressure or expectations. On stage, it was obvious that we were a perfect match. But I tended to hold back when it came to the bigger decisions. Bojan is, after all, the frontman, the dominant one, so I didn't want to interfere with the pre-established dynamics. It was only after the Eurovision euphoria was over that a new era began and with it the most precious gift - the appreciation of the entire group. They are exceptional young individuals, extremely talented, and they wanted someone who could feel their vibe and bring them together, not tear them apart.

This opportunity has come as a reward for your challenging personal journey, a tremendous transformation of body and spirit. How has this affected your self-image?

I am still trying to work on myself. I have lost 60 kilos and broken free from the shackles of a troubled adolescence, when the slightest deviation from the average is frowned upon. It is unimaginable that you can lose so many kilograms, one whole person. It was gradual. After the first ten, you are overcome with excitement. Your reflection in the mirror gets nicer by the week, you gain confidence in yourself and see that it is not difficult to follow your goal. I gained an unstoppable will to keep going, and the most extraordinary things started to happen. I got to play in the backing band of the popular show ' V petek zvečer' ('Friday Night'), and then realised a childhood dream when I managed to join a band as skillful as the Jokers. A time came when I walked around with a huge smile on my face and I hoped that it would not fade from my face for a long time to come. At the same time, I was driven to give it my best shot, because I simply couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

You have used the dark times of COVID for something bright, inspirational. When did you decide you were tired of living in a bigger body?

The stomach pains were the first indicator that I had to roll up my sleeves and work on myself. I had always been chubbier, but I got saved by my height because the kilograms were evenly spread. I was able to exercise, go hiking, [and] be active in water sports, particularly wakeboarding. I wasn't immune to the looks of naysayers, that someone with so much weight could move so capably. I had reached a point where I no longer felt comfortable. I didn't like myself, the walks were getting more and more exhausting, I didn't have a girlfriend for a while, which was a big motivation to change my lifestyle. At the beginning, I was embarrassed to work out in front of others. Would they be thinking, 'What is this fatso doing here now'? So at home I would climb up and down the stairs from the basement to the attic. For half a year, every evening. First for 15 minutes, then I progressed to 45. It seemed like a waste to ruin this effort with unhealthy food, so I changed my diet. I eliminated all the guilty pleasures and after the first 20 lost, I decided I was ready to train outdoors. By running. It might not have been the smartest idea because of my knees, but it all worked out well in the end. Something that I resented for a long time became my norm. To this day, I still enjoy putting on my running shoes to clear my mind. Whenever my mind is in a frenzy, running saves me.

Humans are really odd, shallow creatures. We can't see what's underneath the excess weight. It was only after you have transformed that the requests for more collaborations started coming in. How did you manage to heal these emotional scars from the entertainment business, where the physical appearance still takes precedence over the heart?

That's the hardest part, not to lose faith in yourself. You question your self worth because of the labels the public has stuck on you. Of course, the medical aspect of excess weight is the first signal for a radical change. The results would be significantly better, if people around us were more sparse with negative comments and dismissive attitudes towards anything that is not to their liking. I must confess that I have never felt better than I did after saying goodbye to cigarettes, alcohol, and, for a period, even meat. Imagine you are carrying a 60 kilogram backpack. And then you put it down. A different world opens up.

In all this, music has been your most faithful companion and supporter. Would it have been possible to go through all this without it?

The power of art is amazing. The bass guitar is my lifelong love. Even if I was a butcher or a carpenter, I would play and create for myself. We are used to these kind of stories in the movies, where after a difficult ordeal you find yourself in the midst of your teenage dreams. After the third concert with the Jokers, a girl came up to me and confided that she was contemplating suicide, but our songs had saved her. She thanked us for taking the time for our fans and talking to them. Their honesty is a sign that you are part of something great. The power of music goes beyond the limits of our imagination. There are countless similar confessions. This realisation is also therapeutic for us. You receive confirmation that you are doing something right.

Have you ever wondered why you play music at all?

Many times. The doubts of who will listen to my work, or now our work, are a constant in the career of a professional musician. But if you put your heart first, you quickly get the confirmation that we are not just pretty boys on stage, but individuals with depth and a message.

As a teenager, what motivated you to follow your aspirations?

I wanted to be like my cousin. He is five years older than me and he had his own band. He introduced me to foreign bands, like Led Zeppelin. It sounded rather innocent, but it was the start of a profound passion. Recently, Jan, the guitarist, and I were talking about the role models who have defined us. I told him that there must be an aspiring young teenager in Slovenia who looks up to him and has begun strumming the strings because of him. I am convinced that we have brought a breath of fresh air to the local scene and given a boost to young bands who are not yet established. It is very healthy to encourage others, to be each other's support and competition. I didn't feel that before.

When did you first feel that the stage was your everything?

We had a kind of talent show at the school camp. I wanted to sing the ballad 'Behind Blue Eyes' by The Who, but the teacher wouldn't let me because it wasn't an appropriate song. I cried with sadness, so she mellowed down. I took advantage of her faith, put on my sunglasses and a headscarf. That's when something stirred inside of me. Finally, now that we are touring Europe and are excited to discover how the power of music brings people together, I am calmed. Even as a kid I stood my ground and I am grateful to my stubbornness for getting me this far.

You have a strong bond with your mother. How does she keep track of your exceptional progress?

She is proud to say that she is my biggest 'fan'. She was happiest at Eurovision, which she has always followed. It was the first time she was able to experience it live, she and Bojan's mum cheered loudly and I have to admit that it's the greatest thing to be able to make the most important woman in your life happy. It has only strengthened our bond. We have a trusting, friend-like relationship, but first and foremost she is my mum, with all the worries and all the loving helpfulness. I was not a typical child and she had to endure all my whims. She was constantly encouraging me to take up a sport, but I preferred to stay at home and draw. She tolerated my struggles at school because she knew I wasn't like the others and allowed me to develop to my full potential. My younger sister is also responsible for making me who I am. Her kind words are a balm for a wounded soul.

Have you always wanted to be a musician?

As a child, I had two things in mind - to be a zoo manager, because I love animals, and to be a singer, even though I later swapped the microphone for a guitar. Sculpting fascinated me. In short, expression through art.

Your love for animals has lasted. You have a three-month-old dachshund named Pino in your lap.

Finally! I've been longing for a puppy for so many years, and dachshunds are one of my favourite breeds. If music hadn't drawn me in, I would certainly be a vet. One summer break I was helping out at a wildlife sanctuary instead of playing with my friends. It was a wonderful experience.

You are away from home a lot. How do you maintain your long-distance relationship with your girlfriend?

Some people reassure us that technology helps because we can see each other through the camera. But it is not the same. It's important that all my loved ones and dear ones, meaning my girlfriend, my mum, my family, and my friends, believe in our work and are willing to sacrifice time with me so that I can follow my dreams. But we are in constant contact with each other and we let each other know how much we love each other all the time.

~ -~ - ~ - PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, AND IF YOU QUOTE, PLEASE LINK BACK TO THE ORIGINAL POST!

#nace jordan #jokeroutsubs #joker out #birthday special

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