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pseudowho · 1 month

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Operation: Babymaker-- Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready. 💛 💜

💜💛 You are sent undercover to a Maid Café on ovulation night, to Honeytrap a curse-user for capture and trial. Kento is pissed off, and he won't be letting anyone get away with this lightly.

💛💜Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💛💜Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💛💜Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💛💜 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, jealous Kento, exhibitionism, use of toys

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Ships in the night.

Five days...a week...a week and a half. Kento couldn't take it anymore. The universe was conspiring against him. Against you. Work had meant you had barely shared a room together, let alone a bed. Kento hissed as he threw a file onto Yaga's desk, his neck prickling with rage...his balls heavy and untouched.

Another two months of negative tests had passed. He was still yet to see you, swollen and round with his seed. He was still yet to justifiably refuse for you to be sent on dangerous missions. His heart broke for every dribble of cum he saw trickle out of your pussy after he was finished with you.

Kento had taken to plugging you with his cock until he was ready to fuck you full of his seed again. Forcing your arse up on pillows, his cock still cushioned within you, Kento would overstimulate you with your vibrator. With you pinned and whimpering beneath him, his cock throbbing to life again inside those plush clenching walls, there was nowhere your shaking orgasms could suck his cum other than up.

Kento was obsessed. He could feel this desire to breed you becoming pathological. He read dirty doujinshi, full of x-ray panels of cocks spurting cum straight into empty wombs, soon swollen and bursting with load after load. He fisted himself with urgent strokes while reading these, your panties wrapped around his hand, moaning into your pillow with your smell, each time stopping just before he came...just in case you were to arrive home early. Which, you never did.

He cursed at the unreliability of ovulation tests, and grabbed your freshly discarded panties out of the laundry basket instead, fingering your discharge between forefinger and thumb, assessing for that egg-white stretch. You woke up more than once to a thermometer being snuck into your mouth, Kento logging your signs onto a spreadsheet, waiting for that golden ovulation algorithm to ping.

In a mad moment, he even considered buying a long syringe, so he could jack off, fill it, and then fill you with his cum while you slept, exhausted from your long days. Kento laughed at himself, horrified by such a truly insane, unthinkable notion...although...

Kento shut himself into his office, barely suppressing a groan at the thought of squirting his warm cum straight through your cervix. Kento crouched down on his haunches, cock beginning to ache and fatten, and raking his fingers through his neatly parted hair.

With a groan and a prayer, Kento pulled out his phone and messaged you. At first he was thrilled, his heart leaping with love when you text him back immediately...before the slow descent into madness began again.

Your knees. Your panties around them. Your fingers, dabbing clear, stretchy discharge between them.

Kento's cock had never stiffened so quickly in his entire life. He stood, silent. He left you on read. He couldn't possibly put thoughts as debauched as his into words, he thought, stalking through the corridors and paths of Jujutsu High until he reached his car.

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Kento arrived home with a spring in his step, listening to old, saved voicemails and voice notes you had left him, on his drive home. His cock ached, stretching against his tan trousers, weeping pre-cum. He planned to keep you up all night, but he'd graciously keep filling you, prone and sleepy (with your permission, of course), if you tapped out.

"Darling!" He called out, tossing his briefcase into the corner before slamming the door closed with his foot, "I'm home!"

Except, you weren't. He could feel that instantly, and a seed of horror sowed itself in his core, growing into something far meaner as he picked up the note you had left behind on the kitchen counter for him.

Kento's hand shook, crumpling the paper between strong fingers with a crunch.

He had had enough.

Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he dialled, waited...and spoke.

"Ijichi? Tell me where she is. Now, please."

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A brothel, barely masquerading as a Maid Café, skirting the borders of the entertainment districts and the red light districts. The usual Friday night haunt of a Curse user who had been evading capture for months. The dump where you had been sent to honeytrap him before he could escape again.

Kento had dressed to fit in, in a slim black suit and open-necked white shirt, expertly tailored, with just enough room to fit his blunt blade and harness beneath the jacket. He snaked through the dimly lit street, feeling the necking couples in alleyways, cutting through the lamp-illuminated steam billowing from noisy restaurants, until he reached some narrow stairs up, barely visible unless you knew what you were here for.

Ascending the steps, Kento could feel every curve of you on the side of his tongue, tracing your Cursed energy above the suppression of his own. He felt the Curse user, too, and Kento's face twisted into a snarl to feel such filth near you, on tonight of all nights--

"Table for one. Somewhere quiet."

The Maid demurred, smiling and simpering and barely a grown woman, Kento noted, keeping a respectful distance as she led him to his table. The lights were low enough to mute the wandering, clasping hands of the raucous tables of men. The rooms tucked to the side, bathed in red light and sin, were clearly for private commissions.

Urged into a plush corner couch, Kento turned the lamp away from himself, plunging him into shadow. He leaned back, eyes dipped low beneath dark glasses, waiting to taste you on the side of his tongue again. He accepted only a drink.

You had entered actor mode, not unfamiliar with the practice, having reeled in more than one unsuspecting Curse user over the years. In your black and white maid dress, stockings and suspenders, and tall high heels, the devilish fun of the hunt was still tainted by your lost evening with Kento.

You knew, bitterly, that you were ovulating, with sore plump breasts, that familiar low ache on one side of your belly, and your desperate need to be at home, being filled, instead of at a maid cafe trying to reel in this creep. You were doing a good job of looking like you were enjoying the feel of his cold hands creeping around your thighs. You giggled and slapped his chest when he nosed at your neck. Your new manager looked on approvingly, the new girl already raking in the customers.

Before long, you heard the other girls whispering to each other.

"--so hot, but he doesn't want anyone--"

"So what, like...he's just here for drinks? I don't get it--"

"--tried to sit on his lap and he told me I deserved better, what the hell does he mean--"

Intrigued though you were, you hardly had time to see what the ruckus was about. You were moving in for the kill, your flirtations paying off as your prey pressed a wodge of bills into the hand of the manager, and a couple of bills between your breasts.

"Let's go somewhere quiet, doll, yeah?"

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"...sir...I am sorry to interrupt your evening, sir...only, my girls have noticed that they don't seem to be to your liking. Is there anything I can do to make your visit more enjoya--"

"Your new girl," Kento offered, clipped as he interrupted. The manager raised his eyebrows, turning briefly to see you, being toyed with on the lap of another patron. The manager cleared his throat, his pocket full of a fat roll of bills, smiling awkwardly at Kento.

"I'm sorry, sir...it appears another guest has already taken a liking to--"

"How much?" Kento interrupted again, his deep, smooth voice gravitational, drawing the many wandering Maids closer to him. The manager faltered again, so Kento raised his voice, gripping his glass and swirling the bourbon within, amber in the warm distant light.

"How much," Kento enunciated, taking a long draw from his glass, with a hiss, "do you think your new girl is worth? Tell me."

The manager paused, his squirrelly little mind grasping another money-making opportunity. He offered Kento a figure. The girls jumped and squealed as Kento's hand tightened on his glass, breaking it, an audible crack in his hand.

"More," Kento pressed, dropping his glass to the table. Another figure was offered, higher this time. Kento bared his teeth, growling at the manager, leaning forwards on his knuckles as he began to stand.

"More." The manager stuttered, throwing out another, much higher figure.

"MORE." Kento roared, slamming a fist on the table, the café growing immediately silent around him. He thought he saw you try to turn your head in his direction, and a slither of violent disgust burned in his chest as he saw the Curse user grasp you to him by the neck, pressing a sloppy kiss to it.

The manager gawped at Kento, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Kento scoffed, pulling a thick stack of bills out of his pocket, passing it to one of the nearby Maids, without breaking eye-contact with the sweating manager.

"She's priceless," Kento hissed, hearing the Maids gasp behind him at the stack of bills. "So if you know what's good for you...they'll split that between them, and you will not interrupt me. Do we understand each other?"

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You held your Curse user prey by his collar, walking backwards on your heels, leading him to the red velvet room. He grinned at you, all spit and salacious, with cigarette-stained teeth, his hands wandering down to ruck up the skirt of your dress.

You pushed the door open with your heeled foot, pulling the Curse user in with you. The door swung closed behind him, and you had barely a moment to see the hulking, backlit red-spectre lying in ambush behind the door.

"Get your dirty fucking hands off my wife, or I'll snap your neck."

Picked up by the back of the collar, and tossed sideways like a ragdoll, the Curse user hit the wall beside the bed with a dull crack, out cold in under a second. Kento snatched a curtain-tie, binding the Curse-user's hands behind him. You flustered at Kento, as he stood.

"Kento-- what the hell are you doing her--"

You felt your chin gripped, firm but gentle, between Kento's thumb and forefinger. He glowered down at you, icy cold, his protectiveness frosted with jealous possession. His voice was calm, measured, manipulative.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here, little one? Dressed like that, no less...anyone would think you weren't married."

You swallowed, blushing and moving to defend yourself; "It's work, Kento, you know I--"

"--didnt mean anything by it? That it wasn't real?" Kento kept you gripped by the chin, slowly moving you back towards the high edge of the bed. You teetered on your heels, and he stabilised you, one thick arm looping around your waist, pressing you to him. You could feel the throb of his cock lengthening against your belly, and trembled.

"You're right..." Kento whispered, his breath ghosting your lips as he leaned down to trap you against the foot of the bed, caging you in, "...you couldn't possibly be satisfied by him, over me."

Kento fingered the lace edge of your stockings, the ruffled puff of your barely-there skirt. He shuddered against your lips, feeling his cock jump in his boxers.

"...seems a shame to waste this. Let's give these bastards a real show, shall we?" Kento hooked open the door with his heel, enough to hear the laughs and chatter from the café beyond.

After pressing a single, deep kiss to your lips, Kento dropped to his knees, glaring up at you in challenge. You found yourself glassy-eyed with anticipation, biting your lip, smiling as you teased the ruffles of your skirt up, to edge your lace stockings; "...do you like it?"

Kento bit, gripping you round the thighs and pressing them open with bruising force, aggressively nuzzling his face under your skirts. You squealed, laughing as he nipped and licked at you, growling against your mound and nuzzling your wafer-thin panties aside; "I love it...fuck, I love it, c'mere--"

Kento hooked your knees over his shoulders, looping his arms under your thighs to pin you against the foot of the bed. You heard a passing Maid outside your door gasp at the same time as you, at the sight of Kento kneeling and shoulder-deep in the ruffles of your skirts, your stockinged legs over his shoulders, his tongue plunging between your folds to taste you with an ecstatic moan.

"--oh god Kento-- yes yes yes please," you babbled, sinking your fingers into his hair and tugging at the roots. Kento murmured against your pussy, lubricating you with his spit, rolling his nose, tongue, and chin up and down the length of your folds, with all the fervour of a man deprived.

You heard whistles and catcalls from the café, and blushed, throwing one arm over your eyes, your pleasure building with the sloppy debauchery of Kento dipping his tongue into your entrance and nuzzling his nose firmly into your clit. He repeated this, patient, stroking his tongue over and around your clit with relentless wet flicks and sucks. When Kento gently nipped your clit between his teeth, you screamed in alarm, juddering and close to orgasm.

You clamped your thighs around Kento's head, muffling the sounds of the café around him. Reaching up two fingers, plunging them into your pussy and hooking them forwards towards him and the squashy g-spot in your cunt, Kento hooked you. Flicking his tongue from side to side over your clit, Kento chuckled against your pussy, his cock leaping within its confines.

"--in front of every-- Kento, fffuuuck please close them-- nnnngg cumming, cumming I'm cumming--"

You cried out in bliss, convulsing, gripping Kento's hair for dear life. In tandem with your twisting and mewling, you heard a chorus of cheers, hoots and clapping in the café, the men jeering and the women giggling. You shuddered, stunned, still wracked with pleasure.

"More?" Kento asked, nuzzling between your folds still, gripping you tightly to him so you couldn't clamber away across the bed. You babbled nonsense at Kento, slapping at the top of his head as his pulled his face away a little, and repeated, louder; "MORE?"

More cheers sounded from outside, and Kento grinned beneath your skirts, diving in to pleasure you again. You could barely stay upright, seeing stars, crunching around his head. The Curse-user began to stir on the floor to your right, as Kento dragged you across the coals to another stinging orgasm, so sharp after following your first so closely.

Kento came up for air to find you, flopped backwards, flushed and gasping on the bed. Slapping your thighs hard enough to make you squeak, Kento reached down and pulled you up by the back of the neck, pressing a long, familiar kiss to your lips. Tasting yourself on his mouth, you knew his next words to be true.

"Mine. Now, always, and especially-- fucking-- tonight," he emphasised each word with a brittle slap to your thigh. Flipping you over against the bed, face down and arse up, your heeled feet wobbling against the floor, Kento sighed, flipping your skirts up and admiring the view. He trailed his fingers against the top of your stockings, and the way the plush of your thighs peeped over them.

"Still no fucking baby-- and you fuck off to seduce another man tonight? The audacity," Kento purred, and you heard the clink of Kento undoing his belt behind you.

Kento was hooking his weeping, heavy cock out of his boxers just in time to see the Curse-user awaken, dazed and furious at Kento stroking his cock in preparation, over his Maid, strewn helplessly over the bed. Kento smirked, letting his Cursed-energy burst out with enough force to leave the man on the floor, and you on the bed, breathless with the stormy oppression of it.

"...you bastard-- that's my...I paid for her," the Curse user snapped, straining against his bonds. Kento laughed, bracketing you with his thick arms against the bed. His left hand grasped your left hand as he lined his aching cock up with your entrance. Kento slid your clasped hands, wedding bands clearly visible, across the sheets towards the Curse user.

"Yeah? I married her," Kento growled, kicking your heeled feet aside and fucking into you in one smooth movement, rocking his hips a few times against your cries, until he bottomed out with a roar. Kento pulled you to him by your hair, and smacked an affectionate kiss to the side of your face, before flinging you back against the velvet sheets.

He stood tall, gripping your hips to press your pussy close, and cracked his neck from side to side. He heard the enthusiastic crowd behind him, feeling a bizarre prickle of competition down his spine.

When Kento began thrusting into you with joyful abandon, you felt every vein, every throbbing ridge of him. Gripping the sheets for something, anything to stop you from being fucked up the bed, you screamed into the sheets with every hit. When you turned round to shoot Kento a blushing look of barely-sincere fury, Kento landed a stinging slap to your arse, and the Maids behind you giggled at the door.

Kento was lost in the moment, thrilled to be finally able to fill your belly, ecstatic with the knowledge that he was about to spill into you at just the right point in your cycle. His pleasure built fast, grasping your hips and slamming them back onto his cock, with rough slaps and grunts. He controlled himself for long enough to slip his hand beneath your mound, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingers while he whispered husky promises in your ear.

"--so fucking good-- waiting for me...haaah yes, take it-- good girl-- fuck a baby into you tonight-- you want that? Hmm? Is this-- is this it-- is this the--the one...fuck, not gonna last, cum with me, c'mon, please--"

Kento reached over you, his hand grasping you by the neck and jaw, craning your head backwards. He thought he'd be able to last, but when you sucked his forefinger into your mouth, your wet little tongue rolling over the pad as you suckled on it, Kento came with a slew of curses, a rough, alarmed bark.

Wildly overstimulated, you clenched around Kento as he pumped thick ropes of cum into you, feeling him tense and groan against your back with the blinding force of his orgasm. He continued to roll your clit, plugging you and panting until you came with a shaky little cry, your pussy tightening and sucking at his cock until he shivered with residual bliss.

Panting, coming down from your respective highs, you and Kento both turned to look at the Curse user on the floor. A noisy round of applause rang in from the café and you laughed despite yourself, wiggling against Kento.

"Lucky bastard..." the Curse user whined into the rug, "Piece of...piece of shit...should have been me--"

"Fuck off," rumbled Kento, "you're lucky you're not dead. Save it for trial."

You felt Kento rummaging in his pocket behind you. As he slipped his softening cock out of you, you squealed to find yourself hurriedly filled with a dildo, plugging you all the way to your belly. You groaned against the sheets, squirming, and Kento flipped your skirts down.

"...do you want to finish your shift?" He offered, voice full of mirth. You kicked back at him with one heeled foot as he laughed.

"If this is the one that gets us pregnant, I'll kill you."

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linkspooky · 8 months

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Are You Satisfied?

As you might have heard chapter 236 of Jujutsu Kaisen ends with the death of Gojo Satoru. The fandom is making a pretty big deal about it. As someone who predicted from the beginning that Gojo was going to lose against Sukuna, the reaction is fascinating to me. This is perhaps the most controversial chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen I've ever seen. So I've decided to throw my hat into the ring.

The central theme of Jujutsu Kaisen is death, so the death of one of the main characters isn't too surprising, but what does Gojo's death mean for the story? What does it say about his character?

As I said above I am a little bit shocked by the extreme controversy over Gojo's death. Gojo was never going to win the fight in the first place, because Jujutsu Kaisen is a story and the story would be over if he defeated Sukuna. He'd easily be able to take care of Kenjaku afterwards and the main conflcit would be resolved. Would it really be an interesting story if Gojo one shotted the villains while the kids just wathced on Television?

The story is also not about Gojo, it's about the students. Gojo may think he's the protagonist of reality but he's not the protagonist of the story.

Once again, Jujutsu Kaisen is a story and stories have themes. We may grow personally attached to characters, but characters are just narrative tools to convey the themes of a story, no different from prose, dialogue, and art. Characters are a tool to be used well or used poorly, and sometimes yes that means killing them. Whether Gojo's death was naratively satisfying though isn't the purpose of this post though we're only asking what does it mean?

Finally, Jujutsu Kaisen is not only a fictional story, it's specifically a tragedy. Full disclosure, it's a manga about death.

The Protagonist of a Tragedy

So, number one shout out to me for making this post 4 months ago where I called the way Gojo would end the fight.

Excuse me while I fist pump for calling it!

The question on everyone's minds is why does one of the most powerful characters in the manga die offscreen in a pretty humiliating way, cut in half and helpless on the ground just like Kaneki. The reason Gojo didn't get a more heroic (or cooler) death is because we're not reading My Hero Academia, this is not a story about heroes or even a typical Shonen manga it is a tragedy.

In poetics Aristotle defines tragedy as:

"an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of artistic ornament, the several kinds being found in separate parts of the play; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions" (51).

To paraphrase a tragedy is about human action, actions characters make in a tragedy often have dire consequences. One of the most common consequences if the reversal of a hero's fortune, a hero of a tragedy usually starts out on top and ends up on the bottom because of the bad choices they make. If in normal shonen manga characters overcome their flaws through effort and persistence, in Jujutsu Kaisen we see characters more often than not lose to their flaws.

The reason I posted that Kaneki panel specifically is because it was a brilliant moment of narrative punishment for Kaneki's central character flaw. Kaneki the hero's main flaw is that he always fights alone, and he constantly makes that same choice over and over again to fight alone. One of the characters helpfully explains it as well.

Stories are primarily about change. If a character doesn't change they're not serving the plot, unless that specifically is the point. People have pointed out how abrupt it is for Gojo to get sealed in Shibuya, get let out, and then immediately die afterwards but that's kind of the point. Gojo made more or less the exact same choice (he asked for Utahime's help for a buff but otherwise fought the entire battle himself). The definition of insanity and what not, why would doing the same thing over and over again net him a different result?

Not only did Gojo choose to fight alone, but as I've been hammering on and on about in previous meta the entire fight Gojo cared more about fighting a strong opponent then he did saving Megumi, the child he was responsible for.

Jujutsu Kaisen is not a typical shonen manga where everything is resolved by beating a strong villain in a fight. That's specifically why I used the Tokyo Ghoul reference, because the reason Kaneki is defeated offscreen like that is because he thought the world worked like a shonen manga. He has a fantasy sequence where he's fighting Juzo in a shonen battle tournament like this is Yu Yu Hakusho right before it snaps back to reality and he's limbless on the ground.

Gojo is a major character in the manga Jujutsu Kaisen, literally "Sorcery Fight" and he is the best sorcerer in the whole world. His entire identity revolves around being a sorcerer. Since he is so good and beloved at what he does, he thinks that everything is resolved by exorcising a curse or defeating a strong opponent. He has basically no identity outside of that. Which is why when he's fighting the possessed body of his student, a person he's been mentoring since childhood his priority is not to save Megumi but to beat a strong opponent. Gojo is a sorcerer, before a human being. That's who he is, that's who he always has been since day one.

I think part of the negative fan reaction comes from fans being really attached to this scene in the manga and deciding Gojo's entire character revolves around being a good mentor figure to children.

Which is just incorrect, Gojo's entire character revolves around being the strongest. On top of that though, Gojo can care about children and also care about being the strongest he can care about multiple things at once and have those things contradict each other because humans are complicated. I'd point out even in this panel where he's stating motivation he's not trying to raise these kids up into being healthy adults, he wants them to be strong Jujutsu Sorcerers. Even when he's raising kids, his intention is to turn them into Jujutsu Sorcerers because everything in Gojo's mind revolves around Jujutsu Sorcery. Gojo does not exist outside of the world of sorcerers. Gojo may be the chosen one but he'd never be able to hold down a job at Mcdonalds.

I think in general readers put more investment in the things characters say out loud, rather than their actions. You can say one thing and do another. I can say "I should never eat sweets again I'm going to improve my diet", and then go and eat ice cream five hours later. Gojo can state out loud his intention to foster children and protect their youths, but then fail to properly do that in the story. Characters are not always what they say they are, that's why they're interesting to interpret. This isn't me calling the readers stupid, just pointing out that Gojo is made up of contradictions. He wants to get rid of the old guard and replace them with something new, but Gojo IS THE OLD GUARD.

If the culling games arc has shown us one thing, it's that ancient sorcerers brought to the modern age do not care that much about human life on an individual level, they are all of them egoists. There's a reason Gojo resembles someone like Sukuna more than he does any other character in the manga. I'm not saying Gojo is exactly like Sukuna, he's far more altruistic and uses his genuinely noble ideals but at the same time Sukuna is a shadow archetype to Gojo he represents Gojo's flaws. The flaws that Gojo succumbs to in tragic fashion.

Which if you believe that Gojo genuinely does love his students, and the ideal he's fighting for is to raise up a better generation and allow them to live out their youths, then Gojo throughout the entire Sukuna fight is acting against those ideals. He cares far more about fighting Sukuna then he does saving Megumi, it's shown over and over again in the battle, Megumi is an afterthought to him. If Gojo care moredefeating the big bad and saving the world is more important than helping a child that Gojo is responsible for then Gojo is acting against his stated principles. Why should Gojo win the fight when he's fighting for all the wrong reasons?

Tragedies are like visual novels, if you make the wrong choice the novel will give you a red flag. If you ignore the red flag then you get locked into the route with the bad ending. Gojo always fights alone. Gojo only ever fights for himself, even if he's using that selfishness in support of a more noble ideal like creating a better generation of sorcerers. If Gojo consecutively makes the same changes then in a tragedy he's not going to be rewarded for it.

Gojo wants the old generation out and the new generation in, but Gojo resembles the old generation too much. Old sorcerers like Hajime and Sukuna respect him, Hajime argues that Gojo being able to fight for his pride is far more important than him living to the end of the battle when Yuta wanted to interfere and help him.

Gojo's death isn't a surprise curve ball that Gege is throwing us for shock value, it's a result of his choices throughout the manga. A manga about change, and the change between generations is not going to punish a character for remaining roughly the same. Of course you might find it disappointing that Gege didn't give Gojo the chance to grow and change and experience a character arc like Megumi or Yuji, but Jujutsu Kaisen is a tragedy, and the way Gojo's arc ended is consistent with what Gege wrote.

Jujutsu Kaisen is not just a tragedy though, it's a manga about death. The manga begins with Yuji's grandfather warning him not to die alone the way that he did. His grandfather's dying words are what motivate Yuji throughout the beginning of the manga as he's searching for a "proper" death.

One of the major themes of Yuji's character is a contemplation of death. He accepts that death is inevitable, so he wants to save them from the gruesome deaths they'd experience if they became victims to curses and allow them to have a more satisfying death. Yuji's grandpa died an unsatisfying death because he died alone in a hospital room. Yuji even tries to make his own death a satisfying one because he believes by dying to seal away Sukuna he'll reduce the total number of casualties to curses.

Jujutsu Kaisen keeps investigating the theme of death and what exactly would make for a satisfying death. At one point it's all but stated that death is the mirror that makes humans analyze their lives.

When Yuji fails to save Junpei from the "unnatural death" it calls into question whether or not his goal of saving people from unsatisfying deaths and the gruesome deaths caused by curses is even feasible. Nanami even says that Yuji might not be able to accomplish his goal and warns him away from the path.

We see repeated unsatifying deaths in the manga, each time someone reflecting on their deaths that they weren't able to get what they wanted out of life. This list comes via @kaibutsushidousha by the way I'm quoting them.

Nanami's a character who chose to work as a sorcerer because he didn't want to evade the responsibility of doing all you can to help people, he wanted to believe he's somewhere where he's needed. He never runs away from responsibility like Mei Mei does so he quite literally works himself to death, living and dying as a sorcerer. Nanami or Gojo's dying hallucination of Nanami even says as much, his death is the result of him choosing to go south and returning to be a sorcerer.

Maki chose revenge against the Zen'in over her sister, and as a result Mai is dead. Maki has all the power in the world now, her revenge complete but she's left with a sense of "now what?" She's as strong as Toji now but she failed to protect her sister, and it's the result of the choices she made. Maki's reflection isn't triumph, it's "I should have chosen to die with her."

Even Yuji himself is robbed of his narrative purpose. The manga began with Yuji saying he wants to choose how he's going to die and he'll die taking out Sukuna with him so he can reduce the number of people killed by curses in the world. Both of those things are thrown in Sukuna's face. Number one the amount of people Yuji can save by permanently killing Sukuna is now a moot point because he let Sukuna rampage in Shibuya.

Number two, Sukuna isn't even in Yuji anymore. To build on what Comun said though, this repeated tragedy has a purpose to it and understanding requires understanding that Jujutsu Kaisen is an existentialist manga. Existentialism is basically a school of philosophy centered around the question of "Why do I exist?"

There's nothing about the invetability of death to make you question why you're alive in the first place. In the myth of Sispyhus, Albert Camus boils down all of philosophy to one question.

"There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. "

All of philosophy is should I shoot myself in the head or should I keep living? Everything comes after that question, which is why in Jujutsu Kaisen a lot of the characters motivations revolve around them contemplating death. Sorcerers exist in a world where they can die any moment, and as Gojo says most of them die alone. It might be the nature of sorcery itself that causes so many people to die, not only are they dying because they are trapped in an uncaring system, but the characters themselves aren't really attempting to live outside of it. They live and die as sorcerers, replaceable cogs in the machine.

All of these unsatisfying deaths may just be the result of all these characters making one choice, to live as sorcerers rather than people. Because to exist means to live in the world.

Even in Mechamaru's case, his goal is deeply existentialist by what I defined, all he wants to do is live in the world with everyone else rather than be stuck in his hospital room but his actions contradict that goal. Instead of letting his friends come and visit he's obsessed with the idea of getting a normal body because he feels that's the only way he can exist with everyone else, he makes a deal with the devil, he lies and goes behind their backs. He wasn't living with everyone else in the world and he could have chosen to, he chose wrong and his death is the result of that choice.

Jujutsu Sorcerers aren't living in the world. They're living in a little snowglobe far removed from the world with its own rules, most of them regressive and disconnected from the rest of society. If you define existentialism as just "living in the world' then a lot of these characters aren't, because they only exist in the world of sorcery.

INVISIBLE BUFFY: What are you talking ab- SPIKE: The only reason you're here, is that you're not here. (drinking) INVISIBLE BUFFY: Right. Of course, as usual there's something wrong with Buffy. She came back all wrong. (moving around on the bed) You know, I didn't ask for this to happen to me. SPIKE: Not too put off by it though, are you? (drinking) INVISIBLE BUFFY: No! Maybe because for the first time since ... I'm free. She tosses the sheet aside. Spike looks around, trying to figure out where she's going. INVISIBLE BUFFY: Free of rules and reports ... free of this life. SPIKE: Free of life? Got another name for that. Dead.

Not living in the world with everyone else is the same as being dead.

A lot of these characters either make the choice to act alone, or be a jujutsu sorcerer rather than a person and because of that they die as sorcerers, b/c sorcerers die that's what they do. Mai didn't want to keep living as a hindrance to Maki so she kills herself. Maki didn't want to be anything other than a sorcerer, so her little sister dies and she's not a big sister anymore. Nanami chose to leave his job behind and become a sorcerer again, he dies as one.

Of course I don't think the manga is punishing characters for being too egotistical, but rather too unbalanced. If anything Mai is too selfless and that is why she died, she didn't want to live for herself and chooses self sacrifice for her sister. An unbalance between selfishness or selflessness results in an underdeveloped ego. Jujutsu Kaisen doesn't punish individualism per se, moreso if you're not a fully developed individual you won't last long. Because it's also a manga about growing up in the world, and a person who doesn't have a healthy, mature, well-balanced sense of self is not a grown up.

This twitter user det_critics points out that Gojo (and also Yuki + Yuji's) failures in the manga can be attributed to the fact they don't have real senses of self.

Gojo has an identity crisis as outlined by Geto, "are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest, or are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo?"

It's a challenge for him to find some reason to live outside of being the strongest, and in tragic fashion Gojo just doesn't find it in time. Gojo lived for fighting others, and proving to himself that he's the strongest, and that's how he dies.

There's something I like to say about narrative punishment in stories. There are two ways to punish a character, you either don't give them what they want, or you give them exactly what they want. This is the latter, Gojo wanted to find someone stronger than him because deep down he believed that nobody could understand him unless they were on his level. He wanted to be surpassed, and that's why he focused on creating stronger young sorcerers, but he never shook himself of the belief that only someone as strong or even stronger than he was could ever be emotionally attached to him so he made a deliberate choice to draw a line between himself and others.

Gojo's essentially gotten what he wanted from that choice in the worst way possible. The student he picked to succeed him Megumi, has his body stolen and kills him. Gojo is surpassed, but it's not by one of his own students it's by an enemy that's not only trying to kill Gojo but is going to massacre his students afterwards.

Gojo's spent his entire life believing that because he's more powerful that makes him inherently different and above others, and being lonely because he himself believed he couldn't relate to ordinary people and he dies like an ordinary person, an unsatisfying death where he wasn't able to bring out Sukuna's best, where he gets unceremoniously cut in half offscreen but yay he's no longer the strongest. He's gotten exactly what he wanted. Megumi is still not saved, Sukuna's probably going to kill more people because Gojo failed to stop him here, but hey at least he stopped to compliment Gojo.

It's empty, but it's empty because of the choices Gojo made in life to just not bother connecting to people or develop any kind of identity besides being a sorcerer. Gojo lives and dies as a sorcerer, and his dying dream is returning to a teenager being surrounded by everyone he was with during his school days, because that's the happiest time in his life. Ironically he was happier before he became the strongest, because that was the only time in his life that he allowed himself to connect to people.

However in the eyes of others, he is someone who has it all. That's why he is always alone. There was no one who could hold the same sentiments and mutually understand him. Geto was the only one who could understand what he was trying to say, and the only one who could communicate well with him.

It's no coincidence Gojo and Geto die exactly a year apart on the same day, if anything I'd say the reasons they die are similiar to at least thematically. They both die because they don't want to live in the world. Geto thinks the world is too corrupt and GOjo doesn't want to be anything other than a sorcerer, both of them fail to adapt.

「 'It's just. . .' It's just that it was what Geto had to do. [...] To someone like him, the reality that the world of sorcerers presented to him was just too cruel. '. . .that in a world like this, I couldn't truly be happy from the bottom of my heart.'」

They can't be happy in a world like this from the bottom of their hearts, so narratively they both die. The things they chose to live for at the end of their life they fail to accomplish, Gojo is no longer the stronget, Geto fails to wipe out mankind or make major changes to the world and they die as normal people unsatisfied because they weren't trying to live in the world and make connections to others. They die almost karmically a year apart because their main connection for both of them, the thing which made them feel connected to the world and other people was each other.

Which is why this panel breaks my heart and is so narratively satisfying because of how unsatisfying it is...

"If you were among those patting my back... then I might've been satisfied."

Gojo reflects that he's not satisfied dying against Sukuna, not because he failed to give him a good enough challenge but because Geto wasn't there to pat him on the back. The one thing that would have satisfied him he couldn't have, because he didn't live to connect to people he lived to be the strongest and he died alone as the strongest. There's just something deeply upsetting about Gojo's dying dream fantasy just him being there talking with all of his dead friends who he never appreciated or connected to properly when he was alive. Knowing that if something had just gone a little differently, that even if he had to die no matter what he could have died happier if Geto was among the people saying goodbye to him because that connection with Geto is what gave his life meaning.

Dazai Osamu: "A life with someone you can say good-bye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them. Am I wrong?" -Bungou Stray Dogs Beast

#gojo satoru #jjk spoilers #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen 236 spoilers #jjk 236 #jujutsu kaisen 236 #jjk 236 spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jujutsu kaisen manga #satoru gojo #geto suguru #suguru geto #satosugu

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stareaterau · 2 months

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Chapter 1 episode 4

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Time for some new characters perhaps?

CW: description of pain

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Etho is relieved to finally have a moment of peace from that incessant beeping. It’s been driving him insane from the moment he woke up, surrounded by heaps of twisted and mangled space debris. Impact crates sat all around him, filled in and covered with the – barely recognisable – remains of old battleships. With some smug satisfaction, he’d spotted what was left of countless Vindicator insignias. They were marked on their dented hulls and scattered supply crates, their paint scraped away over time. The beeping had been increasing steadily, as Etho traipsed across the sand-swept wreckage, reverberating around his head in a way that made him worried that he’d suddenly developed a strange form of tinnitus… not that he hadn’t already been developing it for years thanks to his constant exposure to loud machinery. But now – as he approaches the rusting wreckage of a massive spaceship that rests, standing like a beacon, nestled atop a mound of its mangled brethren, its form surprisingly intact save for the side of its hull, the once sturdy metal gored open – the silence is deafening. After having grown accustomed to the constant beeps, the absence of noise is almost overwhelming.

Etho hoists himself up and over the mangled opening in the ship, grateful that his gloves prove to be enough protection against the likely scalding metal. He breathes a sigh of relief as his heavy boots thud onto the dusty metal flooring inside the wreckage. The cooler air hitting him immediately. The insulated walls and dim metal halls of the ship create a welcome reprieve after the blazing heat of the desert outside. Etho is not dressed for this sun, since the dark fabric and fluffy interior of his jacket are more suitable for the chill of space. Maybe if he’d known that he’d find himself waking up in a strange desert, he’d have actually dressed for the occasion. He pulls his hood down, shaking the sand from his clothes, finally protected from the wind as it peppers the landscape outside with sand.

Etho stretches, his long limbs cracking. With a sigh, he looks around the room he climbed into. It looks like some kind of barrack. Uncomfortable uniform beds line the walls and old, musty bedding lays strewn about the room. He grimaces. Those blankets look scratchy as hell. Despite his initial disgust, Etho would probably be tempted to pick one of the beds and not get up for days if they weren’t also covered in sand that had blown in through the fissures in the ship's wall caused by its crash landing, years ago. He assumes it was years ago, at least, considering the rust and the sand that has made itself home in every possible corner.

He walks out into the corridor, brightened by long strips of broken lights stretching down the hall in either direction. Tangled and fraying wiring hangs down from the ceiling, the panelling that was meant to hide them likely thrown and forgotten somewhere during the ship's rough descent. A ship like this should have plenty of rooms that could prove far more useful than a dusty dorm room. If he’s lucky it may even have a stocked storage room. The ship's crew certainly wouldn’t have run out of rations before their unexpected demise.

Etho turns right, padding down the hallway, periodically peering through the occasional unlocked door as he passes by, each one leading into increasingly dark and dingy rooms.The corridor leads him deeper into the belly of the ship, further away from the blazing sun’s reach. The interiors sit dusty, undisturbed and utterly useless. Not a single one appears to contain anything of use to Etho unless he wants to try and sleep on some of the sandiest beds he’s ever seen. He just woke up not even an hour ago, sleeping right now might be a bit overkill… and not all that useful. He needs supplies, food, anything. A weapon of some sort would be nice too, he doesn’t trust this dump to be as empty and dead as it looks on the surface. A planet with breathable air like this would surely have some inhabitants, no matter how harsh the living conditions. Hell, a blaze would probably thrive in this heat. Their dense fur and high body temperature would protect them from the worst the desert has to offer.

The thumps of heavy boots against the grated metal echo down the corridor. Etho’s careful steps do little to lessen the noise as the rusted hull groans in response to his presence. His tail drags behind him, through the sand and dust that litters the hall, pale white scales and grey-tinged fur drawing lines on the ground as he roams the winding halls.

He comes up to a split in the path… or well, it’s not much of a split. The corridor that should veer off to the right comes to a quick end, its flooring having collapsed in on itself, broken pipes and tangled wires hanging down from the ceiling. The floor is caved in on itself, twisted metal sloping down into the pitch-black pit that is the lower floors. Etho cringes at the creaking sound of metal that echos out of the hole. He doesn’t want to think about the strain the weight of the crashed vessel is causing on its fractured hull. The last thing he wants is to be trapped in this hunk of junk if its supports give way.

Deciding he’d rather not risk catching himself on the jagged metal… or falling void-knows how far down the dark pit. Etho, instead, turns left and ventures down the more intact corridor. At least there’s far less sand this way. Although Etho suspects the damage has already been done, he’ll be finding those persistent grains for months. Years, even. The lights above flicker sporadically – or at least the few that managed to survive the years in one piece – combating the increasing darkness with their cold, dim fluorescence.

Etho pauses, reaching up to flick one of the long bulbs as it fades out, causing it to sputter back to life for just a moment before dying out once again. Etho realises with a start that the ship must still have a functioning power source somewhere, Etho realises. It might not have much life left in it if these half-dead lights are anything to go off, but it’s better than nothing. This ship might still have some useful parts lying around. Etho could try fashioning… something from the scraps. Something that could help him get off this dead planet, or at least send some kind of distress signal, with the hopes that someone, anyone is close enough to hear it.

He’ll take anything that might prove useful while he figures out where he is. It’s better than his current lack of possessions. He’d had nothing on him when he woke up, which, concerningly, was not how he’d been before. Etho never left home without at least a knife or two, preferably a gun too. He’s not stupid. The last thing he wants is to be cornered by some Vindicator grunt without any means of defending himself. He’d never hear the end of it.

But, for now, it’ll probably just be nice to have shelter with some shoddy lights. While sleeping under the stars doesn’t sound too unpleasant, sleeping on trash in a sandstorm definitely does.

Etho picks up his pace. He can at least assess the damage to the ship's redstone if he can find the engine room. Until he knows what supplies he’s working with he can’t properly plan his next move. The thought makes him shudder. Being stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no clue where he is, no memory of how he got here, and no plan sounds like, quite possibly, the worst combination. Hell, graveyard planets aren’t typically in inhabited solar systems…if he’s really that far from civilisation, he’s fucked. The sooner he can figure out a plan of action the better.

Rounding a corner, the corridor quickly comes to an end. Standing in front of him is exactly what he had been hoping for. Another doorway the door itself, thankfully, resting mostly open. Albeit disconnected from the track that would usually enable its closure. Beyond its frame, flickering lights illuminate a room lined with control panels and overturned chairs. Lights pulse faintly behind dusty buttons and screens and wires stretch across the floor, twisting over and tangling with one another. He’s found the cockpit.

Etho grins behind his mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes the only sliver of emotion displayed for the lonely wreck. He cracks his knuckles before making his way over to the closest control panel.

He pauses for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought and hands hovering over the rusted controls. He never actually checked if he’s truly alone in this place. Glancing around the room again shows no more signs of life than his first inspection. He hadn’t noticed footprints at any point in his journey so far. Void knows there’s enough sand everywhere for them to show up. He’s well and truly alone.

Giving in to curiosity, he cracks open the console, prying off the loose screen, exposing the guts of the ship inside. Looking through the rusty parts, he investigates the state they’re in, hoping that any of the individual parts can prove useful. Who knows, maybe he can get the engine up and running and get out of here… it doesn’t look like it though. Holding up a particularly rusted part, Etho scowls, tossing it onto the metal flooring behind him with a loud clang. He continues to rummage through the mechanisms of the ship, anything unusable – which proves to be most of it – getting tossed, carelessly to the side with a loud clunk.

“...Oh, what the heck?”

Etho jolts at the voice behind him. Dropping the rusted redstone comparator he had been holding, in surprise. Spinning on his heels, Etho’s eyes land on a figure standing in the doorway, their face scrunched up in a frustrated scowl. They look like some sort of glare-blaze hybrid, judging by the green feathers scattering the right side of their face and the brown markings that tint their brow and the tips of their ears. The tips of their fingers are coated in that same brown, the point where the markings merge back into their paler skin tone hidden behind a pair of padded fingerless gloves. Etho notes, however, the figure's distinct lack of a tail, his own flicking to the side subconsciously. They’re dressed in a cuffed t-shirt and baggy, padded trousers. A singular grey knee pad is strapped to their right leg, though how much that would help them if they fell onto their other knee Etho is not sure. Their deep, dark eyes lock onto Etho. Huge, pure-black pupils boaring into him.

“Uhhh-” Etho stares, dumbstruck at his unexpected visitor. He'd been so sure that he was alone here. The metal dunes outside had betrayed no signs of life. All the ships look like they’d crashed into the planet, their hulls cracked and bent from the impact. It’s unlikely that any of their passengers survived.

“Who the hell are you?” The glare furrows his brow further, pointing an accusatory finger towards Etho. “What are you doing to my ship?”

“...Your ship?”

The stranger scoffs, seemingly offended at the insinuation that this mangled spaceship isn’t clearly his. “Yes, my ship! I found it first!”

Etho rolls his eyes at the childish nature of the argument, there’s no way of knowing who had actually seen it first. It's not exactly hard to spot. The massive ship stands like a beacon atop the mounds of twisted metal, it could probably be seen for miles across the ship graveyard.

“I saw it the second I woke up here,” Etho counters, throwing out a bit more information than he’d usually feel comfortable with, testing the glare's response. They don’t react.

Their brows remain just as furrowed, eyes just as piercing. A couple of seconds pass before their mouth contorts into an annoyed snarl. A small scar cuts across their lip, a gap in their teeth replacing the fang that should rest just behind it… Huh.

Etho runs a hand down his mask. He hadn’t realised that the stranger isn’t wearing one, nor a helmet. The air here must be safe to breathe. He decides against removing it for now, though. Maybe they just hadn’t dropped dead yet.

“Yeah, me too! You’re not special!” The other replies, crossing his arms. Etho frowns, the two sides of his split jaw grinding together slightly, behind his mask, in thought. So they had woken up here too, he concludes. They’re probably just as in the dark as he is, lashing out due to the fear of being lost on some graveyard planet with no idea how they got here… Or maybe they’re just like this.

“...I’m the one in the cockpit though.”

“You’re tearing the cockpit apart!” The stranger complains, striding over to a broken comparator, one of the many engine components Etho had scattered across the cockpit floor. They pick it up and twirl it in their hand, glowering at the state of it. Rust rubbing off the metal, staining their fingertips a ruddy orange.

Their dark eyes turn back to Etho, scrutinising him with their gaze. A mischievous glint crosses their face. They give the engine piece one last spin in their hand, before tossing it right at Etho. Hitting him square in the shoulder, the rusted metal cracking as it clatters back onto the ground by Etho's feet. “Ow- Thanks…” he murmurs

“It’s not gonna fly anyway,” he adds, brushing away a spot of rust from where the metal had bounced off his padded jacket.

“I can make it work!”

“Can you?” Etho raises a brow, he’s sceptical anyone would be able to fix a ship in this much disrepair, especially not this guy. They look like they’re more likely to blow up a ship than they are to fix one. The only thing this wreck is good for is shelter and spare parts.

“YES!” the stranger argues, their face contorted into an offended scoff. “GET OUT! FIND YOUR OWN SHIP!”

Etho stands up from where he knelt, hunched over the control panel. He wipes his hands on his trousers, leaving a smear of oil and rust behind on the green fabric. "…Fine, ‘s nothin’ useful here anyway. It’s a rusty mess.”

That only seems to rile the glare up further. Their green feathers bristle, standing on end, and a slight puff of smoke spills from their mouth as they huff angrily.

“IT’S NOT A RUSTY MESS! IT’S MY SHIP!”

Etho, paying their outburst no mind, strides over to where the glare still stands, blocking the doorway with their broad frame. Etho tilts his head, as he looks them up and down, sizing up the shorter, angrier man. They just glare back up at him in response. He snorts.

“Mhm, sure,” Etho finally responds, a sarcastic drawl to his voice. He pushes past them, knocking the stranger out of the way with his shoulder. They stumble to the side, letting out an offended squawk as Etho heads back down the dark corridor of the ship. He smirks at their reaction. Void that guy is full of themself.

If they want this ship so bad they can have it, it's not worth fighting over.

Maybe if he’s quick, Etho can find another, mostly, intact ship to seek shelter in before the sun sets. Preferably one where he won’t have to share with some obnoxious blaze-glare hybrid.

The gash in the ship wall he had climbed through proves easy to find again, thanks to the way it tears through room after room. He picks a door and makes his way through what looks like the remains of a small botany nursery. The plants that had once grown here would’ve helped to generate for the ship's crew back when it was still being maintained, but now it sits in disrepair. Its foliage withered and dry from neglect, the glass of their terrariums shattered and scattered across the ground. The only sign of life this room has to offer now comes in the form of a tiny, sandy rat, no bigger than Etho’s palm, sitting in a dusty plant pot. Though, it seems mostly unbothered by the enderian's sudden appearance, the shrivelled stick of a plant that it's digging its teeth into is clearly more important. Beady eyes follow as he picks his way through the overturned interior, careful to avoid the sharp shards of glass, even if it’s unlikely it would be able to puncture his boot's thick soles.

He doesn’t even need to climb over the jagged metal this time, the whole exterior wall is ripped out from top to bottom. The gnarled, torn edges of the floor and remaining walls the only evidence such a wall ever existed in the first place. Instead, he lowers himself and jumps down, landing with a clatter on the scrap metal ground outside.

The sun still beats down on the metal mounds surrounding him, the old wrecks sizzling from the heat. The topography shifts and ripples behind the torrid air. Etho blinks and holds his hand up to shelter his eyes as the metallic landscape reflects the bright light at him from every direction. He had not missed this, the ship had been stuffy, but it was at least sheltered from the worst of the heat. Etho had better find another shelter soon, he decides. Especially as the sun has now dipped far lower in the sky than it was before. He’d rather not be wandering the wasteland at night, at least not until he can assess how safe this planet really is.

Etho readjusts his mask – breathing in dust cloud after dust cloud probably won’t be great for his lungs – before beginning his descent down the mound. His pace is slow and careful as the scrap below his feet shifts and dislodges from its capricious position. Each step sends small waves of metal debris scattering down the hill ahead of him. It’s not the quietest of descents, but Etho can’t bring it in himself to care. Not when he’s already met and fallen out with, who is likely, the only person for miles.

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

The whistle of wind rushing through the trash peaks almost disguises a building ringing in his ears, the constant note mostly fading out into the background when he pays it no heed. Shaking his head, Etho groans. He almost misses the beeping.

He really should look into what had caused that… as soon as he finds himself somewhere safe to settle for the night. It’s far too risky to stay out in the open with the sun rapidly sinking in the sky. Not while he doesn’t know what kinds of wildlife might call this place home, and going back to the security of that ship is clearly a no-go.

The hairs on the back of his on the back of his neck stand up as a staticky sensation dances across his skin. Etho furrows his brow. That’s just another reason to find shelter. The last thing he wants is to get caught out in a thunderstorm. But, as he glances at the vast, cloudless sky, it holds no sign of a coming storm

Etho reaches the bottom of the metal mound, luckily only almost losing his footing once or twice. The moment his boot meets the sandy ground the ringing solidifies into something real, something vicious and sharp. He stumbles. It feels like hands are reaching into the deepest parts of his soul and wrapping their hands around his heart.

With another step electricity surges through his body. Etho buckles over, every nerve set alight in white-hot pain. A hook is driven through his heart. Etho bites his tongue. The hands pull.

His vision turns white.

Then red.

Etho keels over. His mind struggles for coherency as he clutches his chest.

He rips his mask off, struggling for breath as a haze settles over the world. Thick and suffocating. Shrouding the landscape around him until all he can see is his own shaking hands and the shipwreck, looming above him, mockingly.

A desperate resolve washes over him.

He needs to get back. It hurts to breathe and he needs to get back.

The ship is safe. It’s walls and shelter and shade and it’s safe. And there is absolutely room for two. Despite that glare’s adamant claims.

They don't need all that space.

Etho found it too.

They can share.

It’s massive.

He can easily stay there without even running into them once.

And it hurts.

And he can't think.

And the world is spinning.

And he's clambering back over the gnarled ship wall. His clothes snagging on the jagged edge. The thud of his knees, connecting hard with the floor, echoing through his bones.

Relief washes over him. The strain on his heart easing slowly as he staggers back into the welcoming shade. With a huff, he slumps down in the ship's corridor as colours aside from the ruddy hue bleed back into the world.

Etho’s not sure how long he sits there, on the hard floor of the ship corridor, gathering his breath. The cool metal of the ship wall presses against his back, grounding him as his head slowly stops spinning.

But he’s not alone as he gathers his thoughts. Movement catches his eye as, across the hall, that small rat scurries into view, its dried-up twig abandoned. Beady eyes meet his own, unblinking as Etho stills, not wanting to scare the critter away. It’s nice to have some company that won’t attack him for daring to breathe the same air… hopefully.

Its pale, sandy fur stands out in stark contrast against the dark, grey colouration of the ship. He’s caught similar vermin hiding in the dark corners of his own ship before, but they had looked different. Their ears had been shorter and stubbier, their fur dull and grey to match their surroundings. Etho’s not exactly an expert on alien fauna, but if this planet is as uninhabited as it looks then the small rodent might actually be undiscovered. He watches as it slowly relaxes and begins to clean its long whiskers with its paws. It’s kind of cute. Maybe if he captures it and makes it off this forsaken planet he’ll be able to name the species. He’ll probably name it something scary. Like taxes.

Not that aiding scientific exploration should be his priority right now. He’s more likely to cook up and eat the rodent if he actually catches it. Food will probably be scarce in this desert junkyard, and Etho is awfully fond of not starving to death… besides, he’s probably eaten worse.

“You coulda leant a hand y’know.” Great, now he’s talking to a weird rat.

He drops his head back against the wall, inhaling sharply as the impact sends a jolt of pain reverberating around his, already aching, skull. Closing his eyes, he digs the palms of his hands into them. Today is going great so far. At least the beeping still hasn’t come back, hopefully, it’s gone for good now. Etho doesn’t want to imagine trying to think with both the beeping and fuzzy disorientation from whatever the hell that was, overwhelming his brain.

The only sound is the wind outside as it whistles through the cracks marring the ship's hull. It blows roughly through the rooms that are unlucky enough to share that exterior wall, creating a dull, rhythmic thrum, slowly getting louder as it echoes through the halls and – oh, that’s footsteps, Etho realises. Great.

The glare rounds the corner, dark eyes immediately landing on Etho. A scowl crosses their face. They’re clearly just as pleased to see Etho as he is to see them. Taxes scampers off, diving through a grate in the wall, at the sight of the other figure. Etho’s never wished he could follow a rodent quite as much as he does now.

“I thought you were leaving.” They plant their hands on their hips, eyes narrowing as they scowl down at Etho.

“Mm, I tried. Didn’t go so well.” Etho frowns, tearing his eyes away from the hole the rodent had vanished into.

He takes in the glare’s appearance. They look scruffier than before. Their hair is unkempt – well, more unkempt – it falls over their face in messy strands, green and brown mixing together in a muddy tangle. The green feathers scattered across their face are puffed up and dishevelled and their breathing is heavy. What had they been doing after Etho left?

“Huh? What do you mean you ‘tried’?” They ask, making quotation marks with their fingers to emphasise their point. An incredulous tone laces their voice. “Just walk away and find your own ship. It’s not hard!”

Just to complete their point, the glare strides forward in a mock impersonation of Etho’s own pace, coming to a stop in front of the enderian. They scowl down at him, not even trying to hide their distaste. If anything they’re exaggerating it. They place their hands on their hips in, what looks to be, an authoritative manner.

Etho rolls his eyes. It’s nice to know he’s stuck in this place with someone mature. “You try if you think it’s so easy.”

A childish part of Etho, that he’s not so proud of, hopes that the same thing will happen to the glare if they leave the ship. But then again, if that… sensation was indeed a product of trying to leave the wreck, instead of just a freak incident, that might mean he’s stuck with this guy. A thought that fills Etho with dread… It would be worth it to get back at them for taunting him, though.

“To… walk out the door?” They narrow their eyes, trying to figure out just what Etho’s playing at. Ethos face betrays no ulterior motives, though. Even with his mask discarded on the ground, his expressions exposed.

Etho nods. “Mhm. Bet you can’t do it.”

“Bet I can!”

That was easy… they’re way too eager to be right.

Etho pauses to think. If the beeping stopped when he reached this ship then this is clearly where it had been leading him. Etho wouldn’t be surprised if someone had put a chip of some sort in him before abandoning him in this wasteland… it wouldn’t actually be the first time. That could explain the beeping. It might even be the reason for what he just felt too. If that is the case, the glare is probably here for the same reason. Etho’s willing to bet they’ll feel the exact same thing. He’s also willing to bet that they wouldn’t believe him if he tried to tell them.

“How about this? You get the ship to yourself if you can get, mmm, 10 yards from it- the bottom of the mound. If you can’t,” He looks the glare directly in the eye, the inky voids returning an increasingly confused stare. ”It’s mine to scavenge for parts.”

They narrow their eyes, trying to parse Ethos logic. That’s not exactly a hard ask. “You’ll… leave me and this ship alone if I… walk… down a hill.”

“Mhm,” he nods.

The glare pauses. The last thing they want is their ‘beautiful’ ship torn to pieces for parts. What’s the point in finding shelter if you don’t pick the grandest option there is, damn it. This wager is objectively the stupidest thing they’ve ever heard, there’s no feasible way to actually lose it. They smirk.

“Your loss. Easiest bet I’ve ever made! Watch and learn!”

The glare turns on his heels, marching out of the hall with purpose. The sound of their footsteps echoing, loudly down the halls of the ship.

Etho relaxes slightly as the glare disappears from view. He leans back against the wall, mind still buzzing. The cool metal grounding him in place.

He waits. Anticipation slowly building.

The faint sound of metal sliding and clattering from the glare’s heavy steps meets his ears. Etho chuckles. They’re clearly not the stealthy type.

Etho’s amusement quickly dies down as a familiar tightness settles in his chest. He grimaces and steadies himself as he braces for round two as the ringing takes hold and the world falls to red.

He really hopes this isn’t going to be a recurring condition.

A distant yelp echos through the ship – shrill and startled – as the glare concedes their bet.

Etho breathes in a sharp breath as his heart tugs on its bindings. Vindication bleeding into his mind, through the gaps of his thoughts and pain.

He should leave the ship. Meet the glare on their ascent back up the shrapnel hill.

They might need help.

No.

They’ll come to him.

Etho waits. His mind slowly returning to its usual state.

He hears them before he sees them, their angry grumbles and stomps telling Etho all he needs to know about how they’re feeling.

They storm back into the corridor. Stumbling slightly as they steady themselves with a hand on the wall.

Wild eyes lock onto Etho. A fire burns deep inside, shining brightly through their pupils like a feral animal reflecting light in the night.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Their face contorts in a furious expression, as even more smoke billows out of their mouth than earlier. Etho wonders how much he can get them to do that.

“Told you.” A smug expression crosses Etho’s face.

“TOLD M- WHA- HUH- WHAT THE HECK?” The glare splutters, more smoke spills out of their mouth with each rapid breath.

“Just walk away, it's not hard,” Etho taunts, doing a poor imitation of the other, smirking as their face scrunches up in annoyance.

“...I’m gonna kill you,” they spit, marching up to Etho, their fists balled stiffly at their sides,

“You can tr- ohHH ACK HEY!”

#stareater au #life series au #ethoslab #joel smallishbeans #boat boys #trafficblr #cw pain

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 8 days

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What’s your favorite part about working on the comic? Specifically the comic; like drawing it, coloring, writing scripts, etc

Oh, that's an interesting question! Let's rate them!

Sketching/Drawing: (9/10) Creating at its finest. For me, this is the distilled elixir of creation. The heart of being a comic artist. I love organizing panels on a page, it's like playing tetris. I love drawing! Points off for requiring so much time. Why can't I just bang my head against a tablet and dump out all the pictures onto the screen at once?

Scripting: (6/10) Pretty standard work. I enjoy it well enough, but it gets points taken off for requiring so much re-writing and emotional turmoil. Sometimes, I will rework a line 3-4 times and think it works great, but inevitably something will come along to make me think it would have been better to have the character say that OTHER thing instead.

Lineart: (11/10) Excellent. Stupendous. This is drawing, if drawing required no braincells. It's meditation! I'm listening to a 2 hour long video essay about evolution or manta rays or ancient trees. I'm happy, I'm in my lane, I'm flourishing. (This would have been 12/10 except for those times when you're drawing the same line 17 times and are stuck in a ctrl+z loop.)

Coloring: (-2/10) Don't like it. Cannot recommend it. People tell me they like this part? I'm skeptical. It's tedious. It's boring. It's like one of those baby games where you put cubes into a square hole, etc, but sometimes the cubes the misshapen and don't go in smoothly. At best it's just 10 minutes of clicking with a bucket tool. At worst, it's coloring within the lines, which I have been OVER since I was 4.

Rendering values, special effects: (5/10) This is fine. It's simply fine. I can enjoy it. It's interesting, but a bit repetitive, but it takes less effort than coloring, with more variety, so I respect it.

Posting: (4/10) This is a trap. There IS a typo, and you WILL see it as soon as you click Post. Or as soon as the post hits 100 notes. Whichever one is more painful. But on the other hand... commints! But on the other-other hand... people misunderstanding your characters' intentions and being a whole clown in the comments about it! It's a mixed bag.

#chekhov answers #comics #comic

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nimpnawakproduction · 7 months

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The ultimate reference sheets for all of Vash's outfits in Trigun maximum (with commentaries)

IT IS DONE. I'M FREE. Now I can forget all about Trimax and draw Trigun stampede designs only hahaha (just kidding I have things for Trimax on the stove).

Trigun bookclub was an awesome initiative, I loved the manga with my all heart and wanted to honor Nightow's designs ;w; I also wanted to help my fellow artists with references for Vash's clothes because DEAR GOD it's difficult to understand how the hell he dresses himself in the morning. I have a lot of fun dressing and undressing him like a barbie doll. My hyperfixation is completely healthy.

I put a "read more" section to avoid spoilers :) !

The July coat

The very first coat in Trigun chronology and the one he wores during the destruction of July ! There is not a lot of panels to take references but I tried to stay as close as possible to the manga. I don't know what number of prosthesis he had before but let name this one Prosthesis 1.

Scars map

Next, nakey Vash ! There's A LOT of changes between one panel to another. Scars changes places and forms panel to panel and the design evolved from the first chapters of Trigun, the time we see him naked as Eriks and his undressed state while he was a prisoner on the Ark. I drew the scars that appeared more than once or were in clean view in a panel (but really you can do like Nightow and draw as many scars as you want without thinking about consistency, this boy has been in a meat grinder)

After July underclothes

Or the jumpsuit that gave me grey hair. His suit does not make ANY sense, I don't know how the hell he dresses himself in the morning with this. My solution is that it's very long gloves and chaps strapped to a belt. The position and shapes of the belts changes IN EVERY PANEL. Same for his knee guards, sometimes they're here, sometime they cover his shins, sometimes they are tiny..... I gave up in the end and draw them as we see them in the very last panel he wears this suit. But damn he looks good in it.

Also in all of the 13 volumes, there is not a single panel with a clear view of his holster (I checked...) so here is my interpretation.

This is prosthesis n°2, the design is a little different from the first one so I guess Prosthesis 1 got destroyed (this happens a lot).

After July coat

The very first Trigun coat he wears in the manga ! Very simple, very basic, it gives him impossibly wide shoulders but Vash deserves it. The first one is worn Post July until Vash's confrontation against Brilliant Dynamite Neon. The second one is the state of his coat after the sandsteamer incident. He loses his prothesis after his fight against Monev the gale. He meets Wolfwood with only one arm and stays that way while he fights Knives for the first time.

Eriks

I took liberties with colors because there's no colored panels with Vash as Eriks. Yes I drew him without suspenders because he has them for like 5 panels and then Nightow drew him without them for the rest of Eriks arc so I made choices ;w;

I love the fact that Vash choose to wear tight jeans even in his casual outfits, this boy will not let his skin breath. This is now Prosthesis 3 ! It's way less advanced than the ones he wore in the rest of the manga, the other ones seem to replicate skin.

After his years as Eriks

And now the first Maximum coat, he wears it until the famous Yuri hospital arc! Finally an undersuit that makes sense, I love it, too bad Nightow-san decided that I had to suffer and changed it again to add BELTS EVERYWHERE. We only see his legs in this part of the manga so I gave him the same top because I can.

The tubes he has on his waist are filled with bullets, he can connect them to his prosthesis to have a mini machine gun.

We are now at Prosthesis 4 !

Hospitalization on the Home ship

The famous Yuri hospital phase! Vash definitely shared his wardrobe with Wolfwood, you can't tell me otherwise.

The first outfit still shows Prothesis 4 but he keeps it for like 5 minutes and lost it again against Nine-lives. I don't really know if the prothesis comes with the integrated glove or if there's synthetic skin under it but why would he keep the glove on if it's not intergrated?

The second pictures is the different outfits he wears during his convalescence. I took liberties with the colors, I drew this in like 10 minutes, everything seems easy when you don't have to draw BELTS. We are now on Prothesis 5 ! Nightow drew it as a regular arm so I guess Vash wears gloves on top of it??????

Back on the road in pursuit of Knives

He wears this one after his stay at Home, throughout the Dragon's nest ark and until his 2nd fight against Knives.

I liked the design of his jumpsuit until I looked closer at the panels and saw that the design change ON EVERY ONE OF THEM. Knee guard on only one knee? No kneeguards? Two??? WHO KNOWS ??? I tried to make it work but really go wild with this one, even the author does not know how his pant looks.

Still prosthesis 5, BUT UNTIL WHEN?

Prisoner on the Ark

THEY MASSACRED MY BOY. Did they even feed him at least in 7 months? Those pictures are the definition of the drenched kitty cat left under the rain. Give this man a blanket and a therapist.

Bye bye Prothesis 5 ! And see what I mean when I say that his outfit does not make sense????? It comes out in parts????

After his imprisonment on the Ark

The last suit in the manga! He keeps this coat until the end of the story. From this point, only his hair changes (or the color of his coat).

I adore the little angel wing symbol on his left arm, such a cute addition. Too bad it appears in one of the most traumatic event of his life.

Speaking of his jumpsuit...The return of belts.... But at least this outfit stays relatively coherent except for his kneeguards who appear and disappear panel from panel but most of the time he doesn't have any, so no kneeguard it is. Prosthesis 6 hello !

Final battle and end of the story

It hurted to drew those outfits ;w; And working on the design of his coat when he fights Legato made me realize where Orange studio took inspiration to chose the colors for Vash's coat in the final episode of Stampede ! Great job ! I tried to color the same effects as one of the illustrations showing dark Vash but I'm not really good with colors..... He actually radiates energy but with some purple undertones, I took some liberties because those are my drawings I do what I want.

I'm not sure at 100% that he has a tuft of blond hair left when his outfit turns black but his hair is all black at the end of the fight. His prosthesis is destroyed at the end of the fight. He got another one in the final chapter. So 7 prosthesis throughout the story!

#play with vash like a barbie doll #I love reference sheets #took years to do but it helps so much when drawing comics #or writing fics #how the hell do you expect me to show him undress if I don't know how his clothes work #anyway enjoy #vash the stampede #vash #trigun #trigun maximum #a's art

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matan4il · 3 months

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Update post:

The biggest thing everyone's talking about on the news in Israel right now is the finding of a MASSIVE Hamas compound underneath UNRWA's main headquarters in Gaza, and finding proof that UNRWA were supplying the compound with electricity and internet services, supply which allowed Hamas to develop their intelligence, used during the Hamas massacre among other things. When Israel published the finding of the compound, the head of UNRWA claimed they found nothing up until October, and weren't able to check anything since. Israel responded by pointing out that a compound so developed most likely took no less than ten years to dig and build, and that UNRWA was repeatedly told that Hamas is operating under its headquarters, but chose to ignore this. What I think is most telling is a tour taken by an Israeli journalist in the compound, where they showed him that the server farm in the Hamas compound is found directly under the server farm of UNRWA, and that cables from the latter were running down into the terror tunnel compound directly beneath it (source in Hebrew, here's a vid in English giving viewers a tour of the compound, I'll attach the vid itself below, too). Something like that doesn't happen by coincidence, and without the knowledge of those in the server farm above groud. Some of the cables were also cut in the UNRWA server farm, like someone realized the IDF was coming, and tried to hide the link between the two server farms. As one officer pointed out, if you're an innoncent, interenational humanitarian aid organization, you have no reason to cut the cables of your own server farm, or remove the name tags from the doors of the rooms inside your headquarters. You only do that if you have something to hide.

youtube

Israel's army has been fighting Hamas in all of Gaza, except the southern city of Rafiach (Rafah in English). There are a lot of Gazans there, who have been evacuated from other zones. There's also 4 Hamas regiments there, which means Israel will have no choice but to fight there. So the only question is how to fight in that city, in order to minimize the harm to the civilian population. There are reports that Israel's Prime Minister has asked the IDF to present plans both on how to fight Hamas in Rafah, and how to evacuate the civilians.

In that context, I got to hear a radio interview with an Israeli minister, who used to be the head of Shabak (Israel's equivalent of the FBI). When asked about the US warning for Israel not to fight in Rafah during the upcoming month of Ramadan, Avi Dichter said that it has never been a month during which Muslims have not fought in wars. In fact, in 1973 the Egyptians and Syrians (with soldiers from even more Arab countries fighting alongside them) chose to attack Israel on Oct 6, despite Ramadan that year starting on Oct 4, causing the war to be known in the Arab world as "The Ramadan War." More than that, in Israel Ramadan is always a time of peak alert, because so many terrorist attacks are carried out during it (here's an example from Mar 2023, when Hamas was encouraging individuals to carry out terrorist attacks during Ramadan, and here's another from 2022). Dichter suggested that if Muslims can carry out terrorist attacks during Ramadan (and it has happened outside Israel, too), the war in Gaza which was started by Hamas can continue during it.

On an Israeli TV news panel, someone shared the estimate that over 100,000,000 dollars (one hundred million dollars!) is the sum of money that Hamas made just since the start of the war from selling to the civilian population the humanitarian aid that was allowed into Gaza, and which Hamas stole from the Gazans (more than once, by using violence).

This is Chagit Rein.

She lost her son Benaya in the Second Lebanon War, back in 2006. I got to hear an interview with her following the fact that during this war, she decided she would try to visit the shiva (the mourning week following a burial) of every fallen soldier. According to her, she has so far visited the families of 400 soldiers killed on Oct 7 or since. "If they see me, then it's living proof that there can be a life alongside the loss. That was our kids' last will and testament. They died so we could live. So we have to live." When asked what she's asked most often when she visits the families, she said it was what she did first after her son's shiva. "My other son was being drafted into the army, so the first thing I did was to accompany him in that." She was asked whether there were moments when she was overwhelmed herself. She replied that she's seen wounded soldiers making incredible effortrs to come to the shiva of others who were killed, to offer their families some comfort. In one case, an injured soldier recognized her, and told her that it was thanks to her son Benaya that he was an officer in the armored forced. He tried to hug her, but was at first unable to get up or reach her from the stretcher he was on. Chagit recounted that she tries to make sure her visits would be about the families she's conmforting, not about herself, but that's when she broke down and cried.

This is Doctor Elai Chogeg-Golan with her husband Ariel and their baby daughter, Yael. On the right, their house in kibbutz Kfar Azza.

On Oct 7, due to Hamas' massive rocket attack, Elai was inside the bomb shelter in her home with her family from 6:30 in the morning, when Gazan civilians got in at around 1 in the afternoon. The Gazans tried to get the family to come out, but it wouldn't. Then, those invaders set the house on fire, probably thinking that would force the family out. Instead, Elai and the family tried to keep themselves safe using water. At some point, she recounts they even fought face to face with the Gazans, who tried to beat them with sticks from the outside. She said she managed to grab a stick, and beat them back. These Gazans then threw in two gas balloons into the burning house. Elai says that most of the burns she sustained were from the fire ball that that created. At some point, the Gazans moved on, and that's when the family got out, because the whole place was on fire, they were choking from the smoke, and even the roof collapsed. They hid nearby, but then baby Yael lost consciousness, and the parents decided to try and get out of the kibbutz. At the entrance, they met soldiers who helped get them to a hospital. Elai had severe burns on over 60% of her body. She was in a coma for 53 days, but incredibly, they all survived.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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beansprean · 2 years

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@schreibfederlaerm left this scene in the notes on my last mardjinn comic and I HAD TO DRAW IT so ty to her!! 💖

(IDs in alt and under cut)

ID: what we do in the shadows comic. Panel 1: waist up of Marwa standing in profile, wearing a pale green peasant dress, red stone necklace, and a pair of fuschia half moon reading glasses. Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid and she is standing in front of an old fashioned book wheel, which she spins to read the 7 different books she has set into the trays. She is smiling widely at the page she is currently reading, which is labeled 1969 and has a diagram of a rocket. Filling the background behind her is a photo of the known universe and several old newspaper clippings of major space news, including the moon landing, the first man to go into orbit, and the first satellite launch. There are also some ancient hand drawn diagrams of Saturn, a model of the solar system, a digital rendering of the orbit of Jupiter, and some 14th century Persian astronomical writings. The pages and the stars fan out and face behind her as the panel ends.

Panel 2: Close up of Marwa from the front, looking down at her book with an amazed smile. The background is filled with galaxies and her eyes are reflecting stars. She breathes to herself, “The modern world is so amazing…” Panel 3: close up on Marwa’s right eye as she is startled out of her hyperfixation by a speech bubble reading “You know…”. Panel 4: Chest up of Marwa from the front as the Djinn pops up suddenly behind her. Marwa’s eyes dart over to him, smile creeping back up as she recognizes him. He casually leans over her shoulder, meeting her gaze with his usual nonchalance, and continues, “I could give you all the knowledge of the modern world you like. Just one click away.” He holds up his pen, thumb poised over the cap as if to demonstrate.

Panel 5: shoulders-up from behind them both, book wheel gone still in the background as Marwa turns to look at the djinn, grinning with excitement. “Are you kidding?” she says, “Learning is the best part! Did you know people flew to the moon?!” The djinn just looks back at her, furrowing his brow slightly. He pushes, “Are you sure? I won’t even take a wish for that.” Panel 6: waist up from the front. The djinn has straightened up from his slouch, pen lowered, almost pouting at the rejection. Marwa, smile still full on her face, lowers her chin to slip her reading glasses off and says, “I don’t mean to offend you, but…”

Panel 7: close up of Marwa from the djinn’s perspective on a bubbly pink and white background. She is smiling gently, eyes lowered and shining toward her books, long curls of hair escaping her braid to frame her flushed face. She continues, “There’s joy for me in the journey - just getting things handed to me…” Panel 8: close up of the djinn on the same bubbly pink and white background, the panels split diagonally behind them. Marwa’s line continues: “…It would get boring rather quickly, wouldn’t it?” The djinn is staring down at her with literal hearts in his wide eyes, cheeks flushed with more emotion than we've ever seen from him. He looks absolutely lovestruck.

(after the caption)

Screenshot of tags from user schreibfederlaerm: wwdits. i've been thinking about them so much i have this whole scene in my head where the djinn finds marwa studying like 12 books about modern culture at once. and the djinn is like 'i could just give you all the knowledge you need to get by in the modern world'. and she's like 'are you kidding? the learning is the best part about it!' (but more polite) bc she's a scientist! she discovered things about saturn and now she's learning about the moon landing! and the djinn is like 'are you sure? i wouldn't even take a wish for that.' and she's like 'i don't mean to offend you but for me there's joy in the journey. just getting things handed to me - it would get boring rather quickly wouldn't it?' and that point the djinn would be like *heart eyes* bc she's not interested in just using him for his wishes! so now it's about proving to her that his magic is not just a tool to 'take the easy way out' and accidentally seducing her & falling in love with her on the way. I just have a lot of feelings about them okay? /end ID

#wwdits #mardjinn #marwa wwdits #the djinn #what we do in the shadows fx #what we do in the shadows #my art #fanart #image described

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jsprnt · 2 months

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Americano PT. 4 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: thank u guys for waiting and having patience! enjoy reading <3

W/C: 4.092

part three

"I'm craving a late-night dessert."

I lazily text Luis, shifting on my hotel room bed in Girona. The minimalist interior helping my mind rest after the very hectic and stressful day.

The match against Girona FC was a blazing success with a 3-0 win for us, and what better way to celebrate than having good food?

My eyes widen slightly at the message popping up on the screen, reading Luis' response quickly.

"Meet me at the restaurant in twenty."

I immediately plant my feet down on the floor, sliding the hotel slippers on. Hurriedly having to put on something appropriate since my pyj wouldn't cut it. Rummaging through my small suitcase, I grab my just-in-case slip dress. I would always pack a dress for situations exactly like these. Thankfully, it hadn't wrinkled that much, still looking acceptable enough to be worn out.

I pull the dress over my frame, checking it out in the mirror. Fixing my appearance a bit, for once glad I was too lazy to remove my makeup.

I grab my phone and keycard, walking out of my hotel room. My sandals clicking against the marble floor and echoing throughout the spacious hallway.

I press the elevator button, scrolling through my phone as I wait for the elevator to travel up to my floor. The doors open a moment later with a small noise. I raise my head, ready to step forward, watching the doors slide open patiently, but freeze when I see Vinicius and Jude stand in the elevator.

Both men are dressed up to some extent. Vini just wearing a white T-shirt, while Jude is dressed in a gray cardigan.

It wasn't even that cold..

"Hi?" I greet, trying to keep my facial expression neutral, stepping inside reluctantly. My eyes darting over to the panel of buttons.

"Hey, where are you going?" Vini asks, and at that moment I see the restaurant button already lit up.

"The restaurant- like you guys?"

"Celebrating tonight's win, some others are joining us as well."

"Really? No curfew tonight?"

"We got an exception." He winks, making me chuckle.

"Oh, that's nice!" I comment, leaning against the elevator wall. The conversation quieting down and becoming slightly more awkward. Jude's annoying and negative energy pissing me off a bit.

"You're going alone?" I hear a moment later, my eyes darting back to Vini.

"No, I'm meeting Luis there. He's on a different floor."

The elevator suddenly stops at a different level, the doors sliding open to reveal a family of four. A mother and father, guiding their very tired-looking children into the small space.

I exchange a smile with the mom, stepping aside to make room for them. Cringing when my hand makes accidental contact with Jude's leg. I immediately fold my arms up in disgust, trying to shuffle a couple centimeters away from him.

An awkward silence surrounds us again, the minute or two it takes for the elevator to arrive feeling like hours at this point.

We finally arrive at our floor after the family gets off to their level. The restaurant has beautiful outside seating. Pretty green trees and plants decorating the area nicely. I can hear Vini and Jude walking right behind me as I walk closer towards the seating area.

My eyes catch Luis sitting with some players. Watching carefully, I realize they had already combined multiple tables. Making it a table for ten.

So, now I have to sit with all of these men, as the only woman?

I enjoyed the company of all of these men except one, but still- I just wanted my little dessert and go to bed.

I notice only three chairs being available, all across from Luis.

"Hi guys." I greet, looking at them. I slide my chair back to sit right across from Luis, both of us sitting at the end of our table. The other players greeting and welcoming us nicely.

I adjust my dress as I sit down, hearing the scrape of the chair next to me. I look up, staring right at Jude's side profile.

I bite back a sigh and look away, my eyes skimming the table.

"Is everyone going to enjoy their orange juice?" I joke, knowing they weren't allowed to drink tonight, nor was it encouraged.

I hear a couple grumbles and laugh, looking over at Luis.

"What are you getting?" I ask as he hands me the menu. I flip all the way to the back, finding the dessert category.

"Crema catalana, and I'm still thinking about my drink."

I hum, continuing to mentally debate on what I should get, eyes roaming over all of the delicious-sounding desserts.

After much overthinking, I decide to order a classic cheesecake, along with a virgin mojito. I look around to find a waiter, one finally catching my eye. I raise my hand to call him over, allowing the others to order first, fidgeting with my necklace while I wait for my turn.

I look up at the waiter when he starts speaking in English, realizing Jude is ordering and it’s my turn next.

"What would the beautiful lady like?" He says, not switching back to Spanish for some reason. I give him an awkward smile, quickly giving my order.

The waiter isn't necessarily bad-looking or anything, he's alright, just visibly not my age.

Way older for sure.

He repeats my order to me, and I try to listen intently, noticing his eyes flicker to my chest. I nod in confirmation when he's done, reluctantly handing him the menu when his ogling of my chest intensifies. I don’t miss the creepy spine chilling smirk he gives me, but I give him a blank face, not entertaining his bullshit.

I exhale when he finally leaves, shifting in my chair. Trying to calm my annoyance.

"You okay?" Luis asks, glancing at me concerned. His shoe making contact with mine.

"I'm okay. I'll go to the restroom for a moment." I whisper, grabbing my phone off the table and getting up.

I walk into the restroom. The beige and dark gray decorated space looking gorgeous, especially with the nice lighting.

I get to the sink and wash my hands to refresh myself. Deciding to take a couple pictures. I had noticed that I barely had good pictures of myself on these short trips. I definitely had to remember to capture these moments more often.

After spending a good five minutes snapping tens, or maybe even hundreds, of pictures, I realize I had to head back to our table.

I mentally prepare myself, trying to suppress the feeling of wanting to punch the waiter square in the jaw.

Can a woman wear a pretty dress and not be made uncomfortable by a man for once?

The guys I was with did not say one thing or did not look at me in a weird way at all. So, why did the stupid waiter have to ruin my mood?

I take a deep breath, open the restroom door, and walk back to our table. Conversations and jokes being made in full motion put me in a better mood, and I get an idea.

"Guys, let me take a picture of you all." I suggest, seeing some of them look up. Voices of agreement being spoken.

"Whose phone should I use?" I ask, going to stand at the head of the table. Jude handing his phone to me. Realizing he must've understood my question.

I decide to not say anything and just take the phone, snapping some very nice, memorable photos.

"Take a selfie! You need to be in it as well." I hear Brahim urge, his arm wrapped around Antonio's.

I nod, flipping to the front camera, positioning the phone so everyone can be seen properly, and take a few more pictures. Finishing up, I hand the phone back to Jude, going to sit down again.

After indulging in numerous conversations, our orders finally arrive, brought by the same waiter as before. I'm aware he can't bring all orders at once, so I wait patiently, watching him hand out a couple orders at a time.

As expected, my order comes last. The waiter places my cheesecake in front of me, my eyes follow the delicious, creamy dessert-

SPLASH!

I feel ice cubes and cold liquid spill all over me.

There is no fucking way this just happened to me...

This had to be on purpose, because there is no way.

My eyes and mouth go as wide as dishes. I look down at my wet dress, drenched in my mojito. Broken shards of glass now on the floor, next to my feet.

The entire table goes quiet, and I suddenly want to be buried alive.

Is this real life right now?

I look up at the waiter, watching him scramble for the handkerchief in his back pocket. I'm still frozen, in shock as his hand inches closer to me. To my horror, he starts dabbing and rubbing the damn cloth on my drenched chest.

Absolutely not, this couldn't be real...

I snap out of it, realizing this man was touching my body, and open my mouth to curse him out until a hand grips at the waiter's wrist. I can practically see it turn white until it's pushed away from my proximity with a scary strength.

"Don't touch her."

I hear an unusually deep, calm voice say and immediately know who it belongs to.

I don't even dare to look his way, whether it's because I'm so fucking embarrassed or- no I was absolutely horrified.

I watch the waiter clutch his wrist, trying to look as unbothered by the pain as possible, as he starts spewing millions of apologies to an enraged Jude.

"Don't apologize to me! You touched her!" He says loudly, gesturing to me. Frustration painted all over his face.

Oh shit

No way, he just defended me

I finally gather the courage to look at him, forgetting all of my words completely as I watch the situation unfold. Along with Jude, the entire table erupts in voices of disagreement. All of them practically ganging up on the waiter.

The waiter’s expression falters again as a string of more apologies leave his mouth. I can't help but just stare at him, unable to say or do anything.

"Can we see the manager?" I hear Antonio say, beginning to usher the waiter away.

The waiter finally leaves to collect the manager, and I look down at my body, uncomfortably starting to wipe away at the sticky residue of the sweet beverage left on my skin.

Talk about a mess.

Luis stands up from his chair, coming to help me as I can hear soft murmurs coming from the rest of the table. Hearing curse words in multiple languages mumbled underneath their breath.

I do hear a couple reassuring words, female staff members coming to help me out. After a couple of minutes of trying to clean myself off in the restroom, I finally walk back. Feeling much better and cleaner, though still in shock.

A damn late-night snack suddenly turned into whatever this mess was...

When I sit down, I notice three empty chairs, realizing both Jude, Brahim, and Antonio are gone. I look at Luis, shooting him a questioning look.

"They went to the manager, to you know what.."

I didn't know what 'you know what' meant, but I imagine it wouldn't be good for the creepy waiter.

It doesn't take long before they return to their seats, along with a nicely dressed older man. He makes instant eye contact with me, introducing himself as the manager before apologizing for the incident and offering for the table’s bill to be dropped.

That was the least of my worries. I was sitting at a table full of men earning millions every year, the bill wasn't an issue.

"I understand mistakes happen, your staff should be more careful next time." I begin, using elaborate hand gestures as I speak to him, trying to convey my frustration.

At this point, I had given up on my anger, just wanting it to be over with so I could finish my dessert and go back to my room.

"I'm just glad it wasn't anything hot, but really, I urge you get your staff in check. Doesn't really do well with the image of your establishment..." I state, throwing my hands up and raise a brow.

"Again, I apologize on behalf of our staff and establishment. Is there any way we could make it up to you? We already have your drink replacement on the way."

I open my mouth to speak, though I get distracted by a murmur coming from my right.

"Just fire the fuckin' creep, mate.."

I keep my facial expression neutral, pretending I didn't hear it, and continue speaking with the manager.

"No, truly, just a replacement for the drink is alright.." I wave my hand in rejection.

A couple minutes later, a waitress comes up to our table, handing me another drink. I thank her quickly, informing her of my appreciation.

We all return to our fun conversations after I reassure everyone that I'm a hundred percent alright. The mood picks up quite fast when the guys started talking about something funny that had happened in the changing room today.

I finally finish my well-deserved dessert, sipping on the last bits of my drink as I continue to listen to the guys.

I suddenly feel a gust of wind passing me, making me shiver a bit. The weather had definitely gotten way colder as it became later in the night.

I hear a scoff next to me at my reaction, and look in the direction of the noise. I raise my brows, puzzled, as Jude starts shrugging his cardigan off. The rest of the table still distracted by a story being told by Vini.

I freeze at his sudden movement, seeing him inch the cardigan over my back. His arms surround me as I watch him drape the cardigan onto my shoulders. His body very close to mine. His hands go up to close the cardigan, buttoning up the first two buttons.

My eyes travel from his hands to his face, not uttering a single word to him. Eyes widening when he leans to whisper in my ear.

"You're insufferable." He whispers to me, pulling back and looking away, his attention going back to Vinicius.

I smirk at the comment, somehow being glad he was being snarky. I adjust the cardigan a bit, looking at the back of his head.

"That's all you." I murmur quietly.

"Shut up." He mutters, finishing his drink, not glancing at me any further.

I stifle back a chuckle, returning my attention to the banter as well.

I felt insanely grateful for the normalcy for a moment, which with Jude was rare- if not never happened.

"What the fuck is this man even talking about?"

I groan, fighting the urge to bash my head against my keyboard. I was fifteen minutes into my lecture, not understanding a single word my professor had said. I was really impatient, and two times speed wasn't helping either.

I had finally sent in my stress-inducing essay. Now having to catch up on two 45-minute lectures. I found the plane ride to be a very good place to catch up, since it was almost three hours long from Girona back to Madrid. Though, I had forgotten to consider that I was running on minimal hours of sleep after last night’s turn of events.

"What are you whining about now? I'm trying to sleep here." I hear Luis mumble, turning my head to watch him pull his blanket down to reveal his face.

"Sorry, it's just this lecture I need to catch up on." I mumble, returning my attention back to my laptop screen and restarting the lecture. I adjust my grip on my pen and begin taking notes. Hoping I could understand my professor the second time around.

I hear some commotion and laughter in the back of the plane. Not wanting to get distracted, I raise the volume of my lecture, trying to focus completely.

My efforts are finally rewarded when I understand most of the information this time, sighing in relief as the first lecture ends.

"I am a genius." I mutter to myself. My ego was completely boosted now, and no one could tell me otherwise.

Or so I thought…

I instantly hear a loud laugh and look up, confused. I take out my earbuds and look to my right, Jude standing next to me.

Yeah, forget whatever happened yesterday, normal Jude had returned.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a restroom in the back of the plane?" I ask, fake-smiling at him.

"It's occupied, so I went to this one here." He states, arms crossed against his chest.

"Why are you bothering me then?"

"I heard the most outrageous words leave your mouth, couldn't help myself."

"Can you just let me listen to my lecture now if you're done?"

"What lecture?"

"Law lecture.."

"You study law?" He asks, bewildered. His hand inching closer as he snatches my precious notebook from my table and starts inspecting it.

"I do." I reply, scowling and reaching to get my notebook back.

"Because of your dad?"

"Maybe..." I respond, confused by the number of questions he's asking.

"Think you'd put me in jail rather than saving me from it."

"Well, fuck around and find out." I retort, getting even more annoyed. Our conversation gets interrupted by Eduardo before it gets too heated.

"What are you guys fighting about?" He asks, looking at us, way too amused for my liking.

"Her lecture." He says, pointing at my screen.

"Do you know she studies law?"

I watch Eduardo nod, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.

"She’s our club’s future lawyer." He jokes, winking at me and patting my shoulder as I crack a smile at his words.

I hear Jude scoff, mumbling an annoyed 'whatever' as he goes to sit back in his seat.

"Is he okay?" I ask, wondering why he looked so pissed.

"He's fine. Just in a bad mood, I think." He replies, telling me he'll go back to his seat.

I nod, giving him a small wave before starting my second lecture.

"Right, but I don't think this could work. We have had great engagement since the beginning of the season, switching up our posting schedule would not have a positive impact- in my opinion."

We'd been in our monthly meeting with the marketing and PR team, and it was practically sucking the life out of me. Especially, with Valeria's stupid idea. I had no choice but to say something about it, because no one else looked like they dared to.

"Then- let's take the democratic approach. Who's in favor of changing the schedule?" Hugo suggests, looking around the room.

My eyes dart around the room, seeing some of Valeria's minions raise their hands. Thankfully, they aren't the majority.

"Okay, well, that tells us enough. Sorry, Valeria." Hugo chirps up, resting his forearms on the table.

I watch her face crumple up into a fake smile, and her gaze averts to me.

"Well, if that's what everyone thinks, It's fine."

"Then that concludes the meeting. Let's keep this up until the end of the year!"

I hold back a sigh of relief, glancing at Lina and Luis as they give me the exact same bored look.

"Come on." I urge, grabbing my laptop and folders. The three of us walking out of the meeting room and back to our desks.

"What are you guys going to do tonight?" I ask, grabbing a piece of gum from my desk and throwing the pack at Luis.

"Thanks! I think I'll just go to bed early. My sleeping schedule is messed up." He says, handing the pack to Lina.

"I'm celebrating my boyfriend's birthday. Fancy dinner, all of that stuff." She says, finally handing the pack to me, prompting me to put it away in my drawer.

"Really? How nice!” I comment, turning to Luis.

“Where’s your bird, old man-”

I begin, but I am rudely stopped by Luis' hand clamping over my mouth.

"We don’t talk about that." He says, his palm still on my face. I grab his wrist to take his hand off me, scoffing.

"I don't have any siblings, so you should step up and make me the bougie aunt-"

His hand clamps over my mouth again, making me sigh against it. Hearing Lina laugh at our antics.

"Don't say anything else."

I shake my head in response, grabbing his wrist again. "I won't." I mutter, having difficulty hiding the smile on my face due to how annoyed he looks.

"I have to leave, only way I can get ready on time." I hear Lina say, watching her collect her handbag.

"I'll leave with you- are you staying longer?" Luis asks, glancing at me, also beginning to pack his items.

"Yeah, I have something to do." I say, my eyes darting to the gray cardigan that is draped over the back of my chair.

They both leave the office minutes later, leaving me to tidy up my desk. I pack up my bag and don't forget to grab the cardigan as I make my way down.

I glance around when I walk down the flight of stairs, trying to find someone who would know Jude’s whereabouts. Finally, may I catch Brahim walking out of the restroom.

"Have you seen Jude?" I ask, walking up to him. My heavy bag resting on my shoulder as the cardigan is draped over my arm.

"He's in break-room three. Why are you asking?" He asks, raising a questioning brow at me and reaching up to fix his hair.

"I have to give him something."

I notice a slight change in his expression at my words, a small smile forming on his lips.

"What's with that look?" I ask, raising my own brow.

"Nothing, you should go. Don't want to miss him, do you?" He replies, his eyes going down to the cardigan in my hand.

I stare at him for a second, puzzled by his reply, but decide to ignore it.

"See you tomorrow, then." I say, waving to him as I walk up to the break room.

I reach over to the door handle, but retract my hand as the door is already opened by a familiar man, a huge suitcase behind him.

Wasn't this that one famous Instagram barber?

"Oh, sorry, is Jude in here?"

The man immediately steps aside, revealing Jude, sitting there in the chair, his hair definitely freshly cut.

The man leaves without speaking a word, leaving me standing there in the doorway.

"Didn't you already get your hair cut last week?" I ask, my voice loud, as I walk into the room instead of standing in the doorway.

I watch him stand up from his chair, his phone in his hand. It looked like I interrupted his photo shoot.

"I need to look good, obviously." He mutters, finally looking at me. His face crumpling with irritation.

"For what? The girls that run away when they find out how annoying you are?" I say, looking displeased.

Jude rolls his eyes, huffing, before looking away.

"Why are you even here?" He breathes out, voice thick with an unwelcoming tone.

"Oh- here." I mutter, remembering why I was there. I extend the cardigan to him, seeing his eyes soften for a moment.

"I washed it as well. Checked the label and everything." I add, my tone relaxed.

"Thank you." He finally says, folding the cardigan and throwing it over his shoulder.

A thank you? That was new.

We both stare at each other for a while, not knowing what to say next to one another.

I wanted to thank him for what happened back in Girona, but my ego and pride were holding me back like a dam holding back water.

A civilized conversation was something that never happened between us. Causing our silence to be even more awkward.

"Okay, that's all. I'm leaving." I finally say, shoving my hand in my pocket as I begin marching up to the door. Not looking back when I hear his phone ring loudly.

He answers the call quickly, and I sigh in relief, finally walking out of the break room, excited to go home.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

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targaryen-dynasty · 8 months

Text

BACK WARMER.

Part 4 of The Devil You Know

Masterlist – Series Masterlist

Biker!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Things get heated in more than one way.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT–MINORS DNI; dry humping, kinda public setting, a bit of humiliating, fighting, let me know if I missed anything!

WORDS: 4.4 K

NOTES: It‘s here, hehe 🤭 This was a pleasure to write. Hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

No short skirts or dresses, stayed on your mind for the rest of the night and the following day after you had received that message, pondering over the perfect outfit choice.

You didn’t know why, but you wanted to impress him–all while trying not to overheat in the sultry evening air. It had been a relatively hot day in King’s Landing, meaning the night would be insufferably warm and oppressive.

But eventually, you settled on something.

No skirts didn’t mean you couldn’t wear a skort, so you slipped into a black denim skort and topped it up with a black t-shirt and white sneakers. Figuring you were going to wear a helmet anyways, you skipped doing much with your hair besides curling the lengths.

The engine of Aemond’s motorcycle revving up could be heard even before he reached your house, and when you made your way downstairs, you were blessed with the sight of him leaning against his bike, arms crossed in front of his chest. His silver hair was slightly tousled from the helmet, but he didn’t seem to care. You immediately noticed the missing eyepatch, and your heart fluttered while heat rippled through your body.

As you approached him, he couldn’t stop trailing his eye over your frame, taking in your curves and the clothes that clung to them, before raising an eyebrow. Just his gaze alone made you feel hotter than the weather ever could, and you were certain the blush on your cheeks had to be obvious to him. “Didn’t you get my message?” he asked, his head tilting sideways. “No ski–”

“It’s a skort,” you were quick to cut him off with a cheeky grin on your lips, grabbing the denim panel at the front of it to lift it up and reveal the shorts underneath. He scoffed, though he had to bite the inside of his cheek in the following to stop his lips from curling into a smirk and himself from staring at your legs for too long. “Ever rode pillion before?”

“Plenty of times,” you reassured him with a nod, taking the full face helmet he held out for you. Putting it over your head, you tied it and adjusted the loose tresses of your hair that came out from beneath, yet you knew they weren’t going to stay pretty for too long once the bike started to move.

It seemed like an unconscious movement he had done plenty of times before when he raised the visor of your helmet, allowing you to hear his voice a bit more clearer. “A few people have told me that Vhagar’s quite uncomfortable for passengers,” he scoffed, even if it appeared to be a bit awkward, so you decided to chime in and chuckle softly to ease the tension. “But besides that, if you feel like I’m going too fast for your liking, squeeze me twice, alright?”

You had to crane your neck slightly to look at him, and nodded. “Got it,” you said, and took the hand he offered you to climb his bike. Something hot spread throughout your body at the touch, but it only got worse when he leaned forwards to place his hand under your chin, tilting it up a bit to make it easier for him to check the strap of your helmet, making sure it was on properly.

That little gesture made your belly flutter, since you knew how to adjust the helmet to be safe, clearly having ridden many times before, but he just cared enough to check himself and make sure it was okay. His demeanor toward you was the complete opposite to the stories Jace and the others had told you about him, and you weren’t sure how to feel and whose side to trust at this point. A part of you just waited for the blow that revealed Aemond‘s true colors and his intentions, that would probably break your heart.

“Vhagar?” you asked, tilting your head.

He put on his helmet, flipping up the visor, before mounting the vacant space in front of you, turning his head to the side to speak to you. “Jace has probably told you that some of our bike’s names are a memento of our family's roots and their ancient beliefs, right? And Vhagar’s a god worshiped in the Valyrian freehold.” Actually, none of them had told you, you just assumed they had a wild imagination to come up with all those names, like Arrax, Moondancer and Vermax.

Kicking Vhagar into gear, you gasped as you felt the engine growl to life between your legs. Aemond turned his upper body slightly to look at you again, bowing his head once with a look down to your hands that rested on your thighs. Since his visor was still up, you spotted the raised eyebrows, seemingly encouraging you to wrap your arms around him without saying anything.

You took in a deep breath, sheepishly biting your bottom lip, before you did just what he wanted. Conversing with Aemond was easy, a no-brainer, if you wanted to put it like that, but he was just such a charismatic person, that he inspired a weak-kneed giddiness whenever things got closer between you–regardless of said things being quite mundane or not. He just left you fumbling for words, a complete juxtaposition to the effortless way of chatting with him, and kind of made you feel off balance.

You pushed your visor down, and so did he, driving onto the streets of King’s Landing.

It took approximately 30 minutes from your house to the Blackwater Bay, passing with ease as all you could think about was the man in front of you that messed so badly with your hormones, you had to shift in your seat whenever you stopped at a red light. Squeezing your thighs to soothe the aching wasn’t possible with the main cause of your despair sitting right between them, so, you had to retort to different methods.

About 15 minutes into the ride, you had noticed him going a little faster than before, without driving recklessly, which meant you reached the bonfire in record time.

He drove down a small path that led to an even smaller area where several bicycles, motorcycles and a few cars stood, and parked his Harley-Davidson right next to a Ducati Monster. The faint golden details on the otherwise black frame gave away who it belonged to. It was Aegon’s Ducati, but the white Kawasaki Z1000 parked right next to it was what stole the show. You hadn’t seen it before, but the pale blue details went so well with the white, and made perfectly clear that it was a customized bike.

Somewhere along the path you spotted Moondancer, Arrax and Vermax, meaning Baela and the other’s were there, too, and even if you got a slight feeling of uneasiness, you still were happy at the thought of meeting your friends.

When Aemond gave you the go, you jumped off of Vhagar and pulled off the helmet almost immediately. He took the helmet from you and dropped it where he was sitting just a few moments ago.

“Hel and Aegon should be down there,” he nodded towards the large bonfire at the beach in the distance, still a short walk away from where you stood just now. “I told them to meet us here, but Aegon stops thinking when there are women and alcohol involved.”

“Yeah, I’ve already noticed that,” you joked, and while you released a huff of air, Aemond chuckled. “Ah, the sweets thing, right,” he remarked, and placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the wooden stairs leading you down to the beach.

“Who’s Hel?” you asked him on the way, looking up as he walked alongside you.

“My sister, Helaena,” came the reply.

Seemed like you were going to meet the whole family straight away.

“So, everyone in your family drives motorcycles and is in a club?” you asked, the cocked eyebrow indicating your curiosity.

With the music becoming louder as you got closer to the crowd of people, Aemond leaned just a tad more towards you, seemingly not wanting to yell. “Kinda,” he started, “it’s a family thing, a tradition. Daemon gave Rhaenyra her first bike when she was around seven years old, one for kids, of course. And now, every Targaryen gets a restricted motorcycle once they turn 16 years old, some even earlier, and a bigger one when they’re old enough to handle it.” He merely shrugged his shoulders as if that was the most normal thing. “Aegon and I also drove one of those children bikes.“

“Wait, Jace’s mom drives a bike, too?” you asked, not sure if you should be surprised or impressed. You had seen Rhaenyra just a handful of times before, perhaps even less, but she was a bombshell, and spotting her on a bike surely would have caused your bisexual awakening.

“Not really, at least not anymore. She has never lived the lifestyle like the rest of the family, and merely drove her motorcycle when the weather was nice enough. She sold the bike when she got pregnant with Jace.”

As you came closer to the bonfire, you spotted only a few people standing around the fire, while most of them lingered around the pony kegs, just like Aegon and a woman you assumed to be Helaena–judging by the silver hair and the same striking features she shared with her brothers.

The first thing Aegon did was offer you both a plastic cup full of beer, though you weren’t in the mood for one, and Aemond politely declined stating he had to drive you home. You sheepishly smiled at that, because he seemed attentive enough to not throw anything away for some alcohol.

Helaena introduced herself, and not long after your arrival, you had noticed that she possessed the same charms her brothers did, in a more pleasant and calm way. She didn’t seem to be too pushy or over the top, but was rather nice and accommodating, making sure to include you in their conversations. Aemond rarely left your side, probably feeling responsible for you since he had invited you to the bonfire, not aware that you knew a good deal of people present, too.

In your eyesight, you spotted Baela and the rest standing not too far away from you, and you gently nudged Aemond before excusing yourself to greet your friends. He flashed you a more or less tight lipped smile, but you paid no mind to it, wandering off to your friends.

Baela was the first to hug and greet you, and you asked her about her short stay with her grandparents, before greeting Rhaena and Luke, asking them the same. Nowadays, it seemed much more difficult to keep a conversation up with them, but perhaps it was the ease of conversing with Aemond that just spoiled you.

Well, think of the devil.

Aemond appeared behind you, and the mood seemed to sour immediately upon his arrival, especially when Aegon followed not long after.

“Hey,” Aemond said, more out of politeness than sincere intention.

But there didn’t follow any greetings in return, besides some faint nods of their heads, all staring at the ground or at each other, shooting each other tight lipped smiles.

Aemond’s gaze seemed to focus more on Luke than anybody else, shifting the mood a bit more, more so when Aegon seemed to pick up on it and addressed him directly. “Haven’t seen you at Choppers lately, Luke.”

The brunette set his jaw slightly, looking at Jace for reassurance, before turning towards Aegon.

“Not really a Choppers guy these days. You know that.”

Your eyes flickered between all parties involved, and you were more than relieved when Aemond leaned down towards you, his mouth close to your ear. “Let’s roll, shall we?” You gave him a curt smile, nodding, ready to say your goodbyes.

That was, until Jace’s voice caught your attention.

“Hey, Y/N, can we offer you a tasty Old Milwaukee beverage?” his tone was dripping with mockery, matching the smirk on his lips and the way he so adamantly held a cup out into your direction.

You shook your head, flashing him the same smile you had flashed Aemond before, “no, thanks.”

But Jace couldn’t help himself, and knowing his temper, you knew which direction it all was going to take even before he opened his mouth. You turned to Aemond, grabbing his forearm and muttering a ‘let’s go’, before Jace interrupted you once again.

“Oh, come on. Not fancy enough?”

In the corner of your eyes, you spotted Aemond straightening his back, taking a step forward to step up between you and Jace. “I’ll take it,” he said in a voice you hadn’t heard him using before, a shiver running down your spine. It was authoritative, threatening almost. Reaching for the cup, Jace was quick to pull it away, tauntingly. “I didn’t ask you, Aemond. If you’d said pretty please, maybe, but you didn’t, so too bad. You can have it, Y/N, not Aemond.”

Aemond was ready to leave, his hand already placed on the small of your back, but Aegon seemed to have other plans in mind.

“She doesn’t want it, dipshit,” he barked, slapping the cup away, showing the short temper you had heard so many stories about, the beer splattering all over Luke.

Not only Aegon but also Aemond laughed at that. “See what happens?”

Jace pushed Aegon, who was knocked back into the sand. Then, Aemond stepped in to protect his older brother, though Aegon was more notorious for his temper and recklessness, shoving Jace towards the shore while Cregan took care of Aegon.

“Don’t make me put you back in your place again,” Aemond warned Jace, who was instantly enraged. He lunged at Aemond, who sidestepped and retaliated with a punch that threw Jace a few steps back. While some people circled them to gawk, you weren’t sure how to act. Was this really happening?

You turned towards Baela, who was looking at you with matching shock written all over her features. “Do something,” she said, even though it was always her managing to calm Jace back down. You didn’t even know what you were supposed to do. Step in between them, catch a few punches yourself? Sure not.

You both walked a bit closer towards the scene, catching up with Helaena while you yelled ‘Aemond!’ and Baela screamed ‘Stop!’–but to no avail.

The fight between Aemond and Jace was somewhat even, even though it appeared that Aemond was more skilled in fighting, dodging most punches and fighting with a fierce intensity, while Jace appeared more scrappy.

Jace connected his fist with Aemond’s jaw once, sending him back a few steps, before Aemond served a punch that knocked Jace to the ground. He kneeled beside him, grabbing the neckline of the younger’s t-shirt with his back facing the crowd. “Stay in your lane, Jace,” he warned.

As you squeezed past some of the people standing around them to get a better view of the scene, you spotted Luke walking towards Aemond, something that appeared to be a knife in his hand. Suddenly, you felt fire spreading through your body, your throat going dry even though you wanted to scream for Aemond to watch out.

From your position, you saw Luke approaching Aemond, towering behind him as he brought the knife to his throat. You gasped, a hand coming up to your mouth, and all you could hear him say was something along the lines of ‘you stay in your fucking lane’, however, it took a few seconds for Aemond to move, meaning Luke could have said more than what you had heard.

Everyone involved gasped, and Aemond held his hands up in defeat before backing up slowly. Cregan had pushed himself through the crowd and lifted Jace from the ground, who spat out blood.

“Put the knife down, Luke,” you said.

His eyes met yours as he turned around, “did you say something, princess?”

You frowned at the sudden attitude towards you, more so at the nickname. When Aemond approached you, not a single cut on his face, you felt Helaena’s hand on your shoulder, urging you to turn around. “We’re leaving,” she said, and with the warmth of Aemond’s hand finding the curve of your waist, you wandered off to the motorcycles.

While Helaena and Aegon quickly drove home, with the latter having a bruised eye and a cut bottom lip, Aemond and you mounted Vhagar to head towards your place.

By the time Aemond stopped the motorcycle, your heart still pounded in your ears, the adrenaline not subsiding at all. It actually seemed to be enough for him to stop his bike in the middle of nowhere on your way home, sensing your distressed state.

Flipping the visor of his helmet up, he raised his brows as you gripped his shoulders and climbed off the pillion seat, feeling the urge to take a few steps to keep your emotions at bay. The helmet dropped to your previously occupied seat, its tightness making you feel confined and not able to breathe instead of safe.

“Are you alright?” he asked, turning off the engine to provide for a more quiet environment, allowing you to speak in a normal tone.

You turned to look at him. “What the fuck was that?” you asked, bringing a hand to the top of your helmet in shock. Aemond scoffed at your reaction, which angered you a bit, to be honest. “What’s so funny?”

He tilted his head sideways, a smirk on his lips. “Are you really surprised he’d acted that way?” he asked, and you couldn’t deny that there weren’t any tell signs for Jace’s sudden outburst. “Haven’t you seen him like that before?”

Judging by your sudden silence, Aemond could tell you hadn’t, and when his hand reached for your wrist to pull you closer towards him, all your anger suddenly seemed to dissipate into thin air. “That was harmless, unlike other things they’ve done in the past.” You breathed out a huff of air, looking down at the ground, suddenly feeling naïve and stupid at you not being able to put one and one together.

Aemond pushed his helmet up to reveal his face, a reassuring and soft expression written all over it. He cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to avert your eyes from the ground to meet his. “I promise this has nothing to do with you, alright?” he said, his voice being softer than before, sensing your discomfort and worry. “They just don’t like seeing you with me, that’s all. Aegon and I are the reason, not you.”

You swallowed thickly and bowed your head once to signal your understanding, but you suddenly couldn’t focus on anything else than his touch and wondered how his lips would feel on yours. Your eyes flickered between them and his blueish eye, not knowing where to settle.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline soaring through both your veins, but when Aemond pulled you closer to connect your lips in a gentle kiss, you all but embraced it. Your arms slung around his neck, his helmet toppling to the ground in the process, and your lips molded together like that was where they had belonged all your life.

It wasn’t long after that the gentleness was replaced by passion, turning heated and fervent as if you had years to catch up on despite only knowing each other for a few days. But the sexual tension that had lingered between you from the very beginning eventually needed to be released.

Aemond’s hands wandered from your cheeks to your waist, until one traced further down, cupping your ass. The way he grabbed and squeezed it was enough to have you pulling back from his lips, squirming closer against him to flee from the tight grasp and the sting that followed in its wake, although the smirk on his lips told you that was exactly what he wanted.

“Ow,” you not so harshly smacked his shoulder, and bit your bottom lip when you noticed the way his gaze was transfixed on your lips. The center stand of Vhagar was easily unfolded merely using his foot, before he planted both of them firmly on the ground and used his grip on your body to encourage you to climb his lap.

And you sure did, mounting the motorcycle to sit astride him, your arms around his neck, fingers entangled in the strands at the nape of his neck while his hands cupped your ass, fingers trailing beneath the fabric of your skort to squeeze your flesh once again. There was a part of you that believed it all to be an act he pulled to seduce you for a one-time-thing, using you for his pleasure only to ghost you the next morning, yet the other part in you was too far gone to really care.

You were too drunk on excitement and adrenaline to really comprehend what was happening, the only thing you were sure of was that you cursed yourself for wearing a skort, because with a skirt, you could have straddled him to do what had been on your mind the second you spotted him taking foot inside of Choppers.

As you hissed at his rough grip on your backside, Aemond was quick to dive forward and drown the sound by pressing his lips to yours. It wasn’t long until his tongue slipped past your lips to swirl around yours, deepening the kiss while his hands started to move your hips in a push and pull motion, until eventually, you adjusted them just so you were able to rut them against his crotch, feeling him hard and wanting beneath you.

It was sinful, to say the least, and exactly what you had wanted all along. It was risky, with the motorcycle parked just at the side of the road, but it didn’t seem like there was any traffic, calming your fluttering nerves just slightly.

Your lips released his to catch your breath, and with the pleasure in your belly soaring to the surface, you couldn’t stop yourself from tilting your head back to whimper into King’s Landing’s chilly night air, and Aemond seized the opportunity to mouth along the column of your throat, before gently sinking his teeth into it.

“Look at you,” he cooed, “so desperate for release that you couldn’t even wait for us to get home, mh?” As if he wasn’t the one pulling you into his lap in the first place.

When your clothed core rubbed along the hard bulge in the front of his jeans, the seam of your skort shifting enough to press against your sensitive clit with each rut, you recorded a victory hearing him release a strained groan against the curve of your throat. The pace of your hips increased on their own accord, chasing the sensation that bubbled in the pit of your stomach.

A loud smack against your ass, and the stinging pain that followed, pulled you out of your trance, though your hips didn’t stop. “I asked you a question,” the blonde beneath you warned, suddenly coming back to his senses. He roughly grabbed the back of your head, nimble fingers applying enough pressure to the sides of your atlas bone to force you to look down at him. The taste of copper filled your mouth from how harshly you bit down on your bottom lip, the intimidating and domineering side of him feeding something in you you didn’t know was there.

“Fuck, yes,” you whined, releasing a shaky breath in between. “Been thinking about it the whole time.” It was the truth, and you weren’t afraid to admit it to him.

Aemond scoffed, clearly pleased by your honesty. “Go on, pretty,” he purred, pulling your head down to connect your lips, his other hand finding your hip to help you grind down on his hard-on. “Come for me. I want to see you fall apart without me touching you.” It was a possessive demand, and exactly what you needed to hear to come undone on top of him.

He was not at all ashamed to groan and grunt beneath you, though you knew your movements didn’t give him enough friction to reach his peak as well–you were sure you would die on spot from arousal if he’d come by you dry humping him.

Not long after, your climax washed over you like a tidal wave, and with your clit and cunt being rutted violently sore because of the rough denim of your skort, the pleasure rippled through your body in twitches, your walls spasming around nothing. A shame, because you wouldn’t have loved anything more than to soak his cock.

“That’s it,” Aemond rasped, praising you through your high and the aftershocks. “Such a fucking good girl for me.” It made you so dizzy and longing for more, you weren’t sure if you were able to handle the drive home without wanting to jump his bones at any given moment.

After he had pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips, your head tipped forward with your forehead resting against his broad shoulder. You needed a few seconds to come down again, catching your breath. “Don’t you…?” you trailed off, turning your head to look at him.

“I’m saving it,” he retorted with a smile, and the unsaid ‘for when I’m finally inside of you’ lingered in the air between you.

Once you were yourself again, still a bit flustered, you crawled off of him. Rubbing your knees, hurting from digging into the bike, you fetched his helmet and yours, before getting on the pillion seat.

There weren’t many words exchanged between you once he dropped you off, and you didn’t feel like it had to.

You handed him the helmet, but he just raised his hand, simply saying “keep it for next time.” You sucked in a sharp breath, and nodded, your cheeks heating up–so he wasn’t going to ghost you.

When he drove off, you quickly hurried inside, falling into the comfort of your bed, though you were nowhere close to sleep. The buzzing of your phone filled the silence, and, like a lovestruck teenager, you gripped it in record time, reading the message that popped up on the screen.

‘Tomorrow, 2pm. No short skirts or dresses.’

TDYK Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @sophie-looks-at-stuff @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @janejenny666 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @rhaenyrarp @melsunshine @docmartinis @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @nockerin @moonlightfoxx

General Taglist: @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1

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akanemnon · 3 months

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How do you draw this comic?? I'm realy curious because its just so good!

That might need a little more explaining. It's a long read, so please proceed under the cut.

Basically, since I like to plan things way in advance, these comics follow a strict script (that is already finished). Only on occasion do I add an additional comic inbetween, but only in order to make things a little more clear if I notice there is some confusion going around and stuff. I work in Clip Studio Paint for all my comics and art in general.

Naturally I start out with the sketch. The script is written in such a way that I can easily put together the overall panel layout. This right here is how the sketch of the latest comic looks like:

Typically I like to keep my sketches super clean that they almost count as lineart. This one ended up a bit messier than my usual ones. It might've been the second draft, since I always go over my sketches three times. They typically start out looking like this (oh hey a sneak peek!)

2. I add the dialoge and organize the text boxes in the earliest sketching phase. That way it's easiest to figure out the best text flow.

3. Next is foreground lineart. I like using a pixelated brush for crispy lines and ink the whole characters once using different brush sizes for details and such. And at the end I go over them one final time for the outside lines to make each character pop a little more.

4. The flat colors speak for themself I guess.

5. Same procedure for the background.

6. Most of the heavy lifting is done by the shading and coloring the inked lines. It adds to the ambiance and makes the foreground characters pop.

7. Last step is the rendering phase. This is basically where I do the shading on the characters, add highlights and color the inside lines. It's what ties everything together.

8. (Optional) I do this for specific lighting to set a certain mood, where I put a gradient mask over the colors for added effect. Notice the difference?

So yeah. That's how I do these comics. Hope this was a comprehensive enough read haha...

#ask #twin runes #art talk

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minuteminx · 1 year

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I’ve seen a handful of posts lately regarding Preston’s voice acting sounds “off” sometimes, and I’m not sure if it’s been mentioned yet, but Jon Gentry was one of the first, if not THE first person that was brought in to do his lines and to also test out mo-cap, etc. Iirc he was even doing this prior to being cast. The production team just ended up liking him so much they gave him the role. He’s mentioned this in panels and interviews - he didn’t even know what game he was working on (I think that’s true for several of the other VAs too, but many of them are VAs with a lot more VA experience than him. He is a stage actor and has been in a few indie films. Fallout 4 is the only VA gig I know him to be credited for.

And overall he did a great job! There are definitely a handful of lines that could have used a re-record maybe once he had some other voice lines to respond to, but I really think a lot of the issue was that he was early on compared to other characters

Anyway, thanks for coming to my tedtalk

#fallout 4 #preston garvey

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vilevvords · 2 years

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Next door neighbor Ushijima who, despite his 6 foot 4 glory, is like a ghost. No one has seen him move in, you just noticed the doorbell panel change one day and figured. Always out and about before you are and not yet back when you come home. You’ve been lucky to catch a glimpse of his broad back one day as he left, always hearing the older ladies living in the apartment complex talk about the handsome young man who just moved in.

Who, when you finally met, quite literally took your breath away when you bumped into him as you pushed open the door of the laundry room with your back because you were holding onto the laundry basket, quite sure you just ran into a concrete wall. Who apologized despite it not being his fault and offered to carry your basket, leaving you a flustered mess because the grannies were right.

Who’s apartment is so clean and neat it’s almost sterile, like straight out of a catalog. No cushions on his sofa, no candles on the coffee table, and it seems like he just bought some picture frames and never changed the default pictures, only looking for some color on the wall.

Who goes to the market regularly to buy fresh vegetables and chats with the elderly lady running the stand, asking for recommendations and exchanging recipes with her.

Who always extends his hand, signaling “after you” when you’re both on your way downstairs, letting you go first. Who lingers at the bottom of the stairs for a bit longer when you go up in front of him to bring some space in between you two to avoid making you uncomfortable.

Who always makes sure to greet you when you meet, mumbling “Good morning” in a kind of low grumble and with the corners of his mouth ever so slightly turned up that you feel your face heating up uncontrollably, an odd sense of warmth swarming in your chest.

Who, despite his stoic nature, never fails to pat the dog across the street on the head, no matter the rush he is in, smiling a rare smile so breathtaking when the big Labrador nudges his arm with the top of his head, demanding more pats. Who always makes sure to put dog treats on his shopping list, although he doesn’t own a dog himself.

Who never once misses calling his mother on Sundays, nodding and humming along to the same old “Are you eating well?”, “Remember to change to a warmer duvet” and “Bring an umbrella, I heard the weather is getting worse.”

Who thanks his roomba for the hard work when he comes back home after a long day of practice because he’s appreciative of the help, no matter if it can apprehend his gratitude or not.

From who’s balcony you can always hear the muffled sounds of a volleyball game playing on TV on one of his off-days, occasionally interrupted by a faint, mumbled cheer, because he’s a man of insatiable passion.

Who finds a weird sense of agitation sprouting in his chest when he doesn’t see your car parked in the driveway when he comes home because it’s odd. Who stays up a bit past his usual bedtime that day, lounging in front of the TV and straightening his back every so often to be able to catch a glimpse of the street, uneasiness fading once he sees your car pull up.

Next door neighbor Ushijima who is adorable in his own little glorious, matter-of-fact way. Who shows that he cares with his actions rather than his words because it comes so much easier to him. He owns my heart.

#haikyuu headcanons #ushijima x reader #haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu fluff #hq ushijima #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq drabbles #hq headcanons #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #vile drabbles

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weirdmageddon · 7 months

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💿⚛️ davejade headcanons

sorry for leaving you guys waiting on this for like a week lol i kept being like “tomorrow for sure” but falling asleep but anyway here it is. i might add more to this if i think if anything but reblogs might not reflect the up to date source version so you can always find it here

most of these are pointing out stuff thats basically canon anyway but whatever lol. basically canon headcanons

dave tries to impress jade to get her attention because he likes her

this ones for you *misses hoop by 5 feet*

he doesnt mind jade’s inane riddles honestly. he isn’t perturbed by how she just knows things like rose is, because he doesnt think into it too far. he trusts her

he spends a lot of time indulging in her interests and showers her in his music and poetry

they draw things for each other a lot <3 jade has the pictionary modus and seems pretty good at drawing and of course dave sent her sbahj as furries in the mail. sending jpegs over the internet is BABY NONSENSE. real boys send their childhood friend/crush pictures they drew for them through the INTERNATIONAL POSTAL SYSTEM to an unspecified island in the middle of nowhere, pacific ocean that gets packages dropped by plane so the recipient can tangibly hold it and hang it in their room

actually i was going through the commentary and hussie addresses it as such:

“Also notice her SBaHJ furry poster, which was clearly a very thoughtful gift from Dave”

aww

jade would give dave a "cool" plushie of a tiger or something nd he keeps it on his desk . froot’s beautiful idea

he loves her plushie sensibilities. so much less unnerving than his bro’s phallic puppets. they're still soft but no cognitive dissonance this time about the softness coming from foam puppet ass hoorayyy

theyre still reading homestuck on act 4 but they understood them instantly

jade humors dave’s ironic cool facade because it makes dave feel more comfortable without feeling too exposed, but it’s because of this that he feels like he can open up to her because she isnt prying. (im still not over the smile here btw. only jade could make dave smile after a fucked evening where he spilled juice on his turntables and accidentally skewered an innocent crow with his sword and broke his window this mf is TYPING. also getting a bit of joy out of the fact that the only visible suit on his cards-themed bedcover in this panel is a heart)

but he knows that jade is not unaware of what he's hiding. couldnt even refute her lol

from the knight’s perspective, it’s “i’m not as [blank] as i appear. i want you know that about me if i know you well and trust you, or i DON’T want you to know that about me if i DON’T know you well. the reason is that i want to know that i can trust you to avoid turning my insecurity into a Whole Thing”

basically she allows dave to take initiative when HE feels comfortable and confident in sharing the things he’s self-conscious about. this really helps him be comfortable and form a strong bond with her

dave would wrap his arms around her to “ironically” imitate a pair of tangle buddy squiddles (while actually concealing genuine affection basically unbeknownst to himself) but he winds up looking just a little too into it for just an “ironic” bit yall……

jade is slower to realize her deeper feelings since she shows love to everyone (so long as theyre deserving of it!!!) it just hits her one day that she actually Likes him in a special way, while for dave it is more dynamic and gradual but very on the downlow, expressed in creative acts and services

once dave actually recognizes he’s really caught feelings for her down the line, dave and jade happily do the tangle buddies hug all the time. its like their handshake. its their weird couple thing

these two when together as a unit they do not give a shit about what other people think of them

this shit lol:

Creative Fucking Powerhouse the two of them

davejade ass song to me

jade is quite spacey and super appreciates dave’s level-headedness and steady pragmatism while at the same time not being a rigid stick in the mud about it. for example when they were acting as each others’ server players dave was advising her but it was appreciated by jade

sorry its just literally socionics duality LITERALLY THIS IS THEMMM (also i spent WAY too much time making these graphics and integrating texts from multiple sources please appreciate it)

fittingly with that, as ouroborista writes about the opposite space-time aspect dichotomy,

Space and Time are the fundamental Aspect pair. Their job is to make shit take place. To create novelty. Between them they span not only all of existence but also the inseparable twin approaches of any creative project. Space goes for breadth, for ideas, for expansive, holistic input, while Time goes for needlepoint focus and a rapid-turnover ability to pull through on the prompt. There’s a reason why these are the two Aspects necessary for any successful session of SBURB.

jade is literally always having a little giggle about him. dave is a funny guy. lame court jester ass boyfriend

he’d draw his post-ironic fursona and show it to her with the usual deadpan expression on his face, eyes obscured by his shades. but jade will look at it and when he sees her smile and laugh it makes it all worth it. his cheeks feel warm and he’ll smile slightly like “heh heh”. dave the type to smile like an idiot over anything jade does like his mouth keeps making a thin line and hes trying to fight it but . Jade

dave thought jade looked absolutely stunning in her 3 in the morning dress his mouth probably stupidly hung open the tiniest amount seeing her after swapping into it

of course she only wears it for what she considers "very special occasions"…..spending time with dave seemed to be a very special occasion :)

jade think dave looks sharp in his suits!!

imagine jade adjusting daves crooked bowtie and lapel and his palms start to sweat and he darts his eyes from behind his shades and chews the inside of his cheek she making him nervous bro 💯

jade is definitely the teaser and dave is the teased. still i dont think jade teases dave as much as john and rose which is why he feels more comfortable opening up to her about his shit. her teasings are much lighter and inconsequential

despite how funny and informal he is dave is a classy well-put-together romantic. he is responsible and harmonious in how he choses to present himself. remember when he got secondhand embarrassment from rose when she was drunk before her date with kanaya and he suggested to her and kanaya that the two reschedule? … he’d NEVER do something like that. sober. suit is ON. hair is neatly combed. he is right on time, not too early not too late, and his first words are “yo whats up”

dave has this designated driver energy about him

after dogtiering jade’s dog ears can perk and flatten, adding even more expressiveness

jade has so many hobbies and interests i think she’d get dave into horticulture somehow unironically

theyre both the kinda mf to ask “would you still love me if i were a worm”

dave’s hands are warm

jade’s skin can be cool to the touch in some places like the back of her arms or shoulders and dave places his hands there to warm them. or by rubbing them or something

idk just some associations space is cool and time is warm to me. the vaccuum of space is cold and time is associated with gears which are associated with generating heat and dave’s classical element is fire and jade’s is earth and her planet is initially covered in snow and daves is covered in lava idk…. just makes symbolic sense i guess but its also cute in its own right

dave would love going to the beach with jade on earth c cause the ocean is so boob i mean boob i mean boob i m,ean boob i mean SHIT . blue. blue

this Fucking animation bro

she infodumps about science and he sits his ass down to listen

jade does this (excuse the fact that the url is roselalonde)

#homestuck #davejade #dave strider #jade harley #headcanons #spacetime #hs

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whoify · 6 months

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photopea gif tutorial!

i recently started learning the craft of gifmaking with the free software photopea. when i first started, i had to piece together several different tutorials as well as extrapolate from some photoshop tutorials because-- no one uses photopea.

but they should! it's free! it can run in your browser! it can do most everything photoshop can do and you don't have to deal with adobe or torrenting. so i'm making a tutorial of my photopea gifmaking process because that's what i needed a couple months ago, and i hope it can be of use to some others. let's go!

1: PREPARING

source the scene you want to gif. it's best to download your video when you can, but screen recording can work in a pinch. this is the video downloader software i use.

once the source video is downloaded, i like to pick out the specific moments i'm going to gif and save them as their own files-- this makes future steps easier. an individual gif shouldn't be more than 4ish seconds, so limit your selections to about that. name your files in a way that makes sense to you:

2: CONVERTING TO .JPG

i like to convert my video clips to .jpg format. it is possible to load video clips directly into photopea, but unless it is a very short <30fps clip, it is likely to freeze or crash in my experience. i use this website as it downloads a higher framerate (~25fps) than others i've used.

convert your video files and download the .zip folder containing your frames. make sure to unzip them and name them something helpful if you need to.

3: OPENING YOUR FRAMES IN PHOTOPEA

photopea looks like this when you open it:

select "open from computer" and select only the first frame of your first gif:

your environment should look like this (ignore the other projects i have open, you should just have 0001.psd or similar):

go to file> open and place, and select ALL of the rest of the frames from your first clip:

they'll load in one by one, and your environment should look like this:

notice how all the frames have a little square in the corner? that means they are smart objects, and we need them to not be for our purposes. select all of your frames, right click, and choose rasterize:

in order to make the series of jpgs move as a gif upon download, select all of your frames and go to layer> animation> make frames:

all your layer names should now start with _a_. you can really do this at any point in the process so it's not a big deal if you forget at the beginning.

finally, you want to limit the frames in individual gifs to around 50 or less. if you find you have more, delete some frames off of the beginning or end by right clicking and selecting delete.

4: CROPPING AND RESIZING

select the crop tool on the left hand panel:

at the top bar, select fixed size:

gifs on tumblr are limited to 540px wide for single column gifs, 268px for two columns, and 178px for three columns. the height is up to you; i like to use 350px height with the 540px width.

enter your values into the W and H fields and do not press enter yet. drag the cropped area to where you want it to be-- try to line up the top and bottom edges so as not to lose too much of your image. once you're satisfied with the selection, press enter. your gif is now cropped and resized to tumblr standards.

5: SHARPENING

(if you are working with low-qual video, check out this tutorial by @hellboys before sharpening. basically filter> filter gallery > grain, select soft and play with the settings. then proceed!)

still making sure all of your layers are selected, navigate to filter> sharpen > smart sharpen:

you should see this dialog box:

these are the settings i like to use, but you can play around to see what you like. here's the before and after of my sharpening settings:

the difference will be more noticeable once we complete the next step-- brightening and coloring.

6: BRIGHTENING & COLORING

navigate to layer > new adjustment layer:

at any time, you can edit your adjustment layers by clicking this button in the right hand panel:

for each edit you make to your gif, you will add a new adjustment layer. always make sure they're at the top of your layer stack. i like to start with adjusting the brightness and exposure, which are both pretty straightforward.

additionally ,you can select a curves adjustment layer, choose the RGB channel, and drag the curve just slightly upwards to further brighten your gif, like so:

here's a before and after:

now for coloring-- i mostly use the saturation/vibrance, curves, color balance, and selective color adjustment layers. just play around with all of these until you find a style you like. i like my gifs to look really bright and colorful, so i push the saturation and try to draw out warmer tones in the color balance:

7: CAPTIONS

the font i like to use for captions is arial bold italic. you can download it (or any font of your choosing) from pretty much any free font website. if you choose to download a font not in photopea, go to file> open and select your font; it will now show up in the list of fonts.

navigate to the text button in the left hand panel:

and type in the captions for your gif. i make the font size 20 for 540px gifs.

next, while only your text layer is selected, navigate to layer> layer style > blending options:

click on drop shadow, and play around with the settings until you get something you like. here's mine:

next, click on stroke and do the same thing:

when you're done, make sure your text is your top-most layer.

8: EXPORTING

you're done! head to file> export as> GIF. you'll be prompted with a dialog that looks like this, with your gif playing (you can also do these steps without saving if you want a preview of your gif during editing):

the only thing you should need to adjust is speed. this is the main difference between photopea and photoshop. the only way to specifically adjust the delay in photopea is to manually enter "_05" (or whatever amount of delay) at the end of every layer name. if you're like me you'll agree that is simply too much and settle for the speed slider.

i don't really know what logic governs the speed slider. it doesn't seem to be consistent across gifs, so play with it until it looks right. i've had it on 200% lately which seems insane but looks visually normal.

once the speed is adjusted, hit save and you're done! here's a final before and after of all the work:

BONUS: SAVING .PSD PRESETS

did you think manually creating and editing all those adjustment layers was a lot of work? here's how to streamline it for next time.

at the very bottom of your screen, below your layers, select the icon that looks like a folder (third from the right).

it will create another layer called folder 1. drag your adjustment layers into this folder, making sure they stay in the same order. your layers should look like this when you're done:

ONLY ONCE YOU HAVE SAVED YOUR GIF, delete all other layers that are not in the folder. then select file> save as PSD. save it somewhere convenient.

next time you're making gifs, after you've cropped and sharpened your frames, select file > open and choose your .psd file. it will open as another project. select the layer that says folder 1, and drag it to whatever project you're working on at the top bar. voila! your adjustment layers are applied to your new gif!

i still like to play with the settings, as coloring and brightness needs will differ from gif to gif.

thanks for reading! here's the gifset i made while making this tutorial :-)

#milk post #gif tutorial #doctor who #photopea #i can't tell if i went too detailed or not enough lol. tag me if you use this i want to see ppl's gifs!!

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