#but these are the people i talk to most often or who i have been friends with since the beginning of time!!

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[crazy-pages]

Speaking of which, the longer I've been around on this Earth the more I have started to notice what I like to call "motivated worrying". This is when somebody has legitimate seeming worries that an intervention might actually make things worse, but there's secretly a pattern to the things they're worried about.

With healthcare, you will find a lot of centrists who are worried that universal healthcare will be too expensive and the taxes involved will actually make people worse off on average. Similarly, you will find centrists who are worried about harm reduction drug programs increasing the number of addicts. Who are worried that if you give money to homeless people, they will use it on drugs and actually end up being worse off. They will be worried that increasing the corporate tax rate will grind the economy to halt.

And the thing is, even the more obviously incorrect worries will appear to come from a sincere place. They might actually come from a sincere place. Now if they bothered to look up any of this stuff, whether that means taking a detailed look at iniversal healthcare programs around the world or looking up the data on homeless aid interventions, but even that can be justified. Most people don't look up this stuff all the time.

But the key thing which makes motivated worrying disingenuous is what gets worried about.

It doesn't take long to notice when talking to a centrist, if you are paying attention, that this worrying never gets applied to the existing status quo, or to actions which might help marginalize people either. Centrists will worry until the cows come home about whether it's "safe" for trans students to participate in sports ... but not about if it's safe to pass exclusionary laws targeting people who frequently experience hate crimes. They will worry about if a left-wing party pandering to progressives might lose them conservative votes, but rarely about if pandering to conservatives will lose them progressive votes. And when it comes to things they don't want to do anyway, the worrying never gets resolved. It never becomes something which is worth looking into.

This can be very subtle because these worries often concern legitimate possibilities, or at least things which could understandably be seen as legitimate possibilities. And most people at some point go through a phase where they are worrying for a problem but haven't yet sunk their teeth into understanding it. The trick with centrism that this phase of worrying about something without having resolved that worry gets stretched out forever, and applied to every positive intervention under the sun.

[intheupside]

The game has been Crosby’s professional life. It’s who he is and what he talks about. Hockey is his everything. And it’s what matters most to him.

Once or twice a season, when Ray Shero was general manager of the Penguins, he would invite Crosby to his office for a brief meeting that was never brief. “Usually it was about four-hours long. I’d say to Sid, ‘What’s on your mind?’ And he’d say ‘Not much.’ And then we’d talk hockey for hours, usually all afternoon.

“Detailed talk about the game, the team, getting better, training, he has such an active mind. He’s always thinking about everything. He asks good questions. He wants good answers. And often the last thing he thought about — which tells you a lot about Sid — is money.

“One time, just after he signed his second contract in Pittsburgh, I took out a calculator in our meeting. I told him the season was 180-some days long and players got paid by the day. I then calculated how much money he was going to be getting paid each day.

“I slid him the calculator and he said, ‘What?’

“I told him that’s what you’re going to be paid every day.

“He said ‘You’re kidding, right?’

“I said no, that’s the number.

“He just stared at it and said ‘Holy cow. I guess I shouldn’t skip any optional practices.’

“That’s Sid being Sid. It was never about money with him. He’s left a lot of money on the table over the years. But when he saw how much he was making in his first big contract, how much per day, it shocked him. He’d never looked at it that way before.”

When Jimmy Rutherford took over as GM of the Penguins, he made it a point to meet with Crosby almost immediately. “I flew to Pittsburgh to have dinner with him and from the time you shake his hand, and you listen to all his input and all his knowledge, you just walk away and say ‘Wow.’ He’s more special in person than you might have thought he was before you got to meet him.”

“They play their best in the biggest moments,” said Ken Holland. “You saw that with Steph Curry at the Olympics last summer. Ultimately, no matter what the circumstance, Sid drove people to greater heights. It’s not just how they play, it’s how people follow them and jump aboard.”

“How committed are they? How much drive do they have? How motivated are they? How singularly driven are they? It’s not an accident that he scored the Golden Goal. That’s what winners do. And he’s one of the greatest winners of all time.

“Everybody loves Sid. He treats people well. He hangs out with everybody and he’s one of the guys. And the respect level for him, and for the game, is through the roof. When you’re around him you see he’s just a regular person but an extraordinary player.”

Kyle Dubas is in his second season with Crosby in Pittsburgh. Like everyone else who has been around Crosby over the years, he has been taken aback by the dedication he has to practice. “He works daily on the mastery of his craft,” said Dubas. “And he takes nothing for granted.”

But what has impressed Dubas the most is the way in which Crosby interacts with his teammates on a team struggling to find its way.

Kyle Dubas is in his second season with Crosby in Pittsburgh. Like everyone else who has been around Crosby over the years, he has been taken aback by the dedication he has to practice. “He works daily on the mastery of his craft,” said Dubas. “And he takes nothing for granted.”

“Recently, we were in Anaheim and we have a rookie defenceman, Owen Pickering, who was struggling. Sid is purposely hard on Owen in practice, competing full out against him, not maliciously, just showing the kid how hard he’s going to have to work to compete with him. Sid’s mindset is, I have to do this. If he’s going to get better, I have to do this. The kid got a little frustrated by the practice and you could see it was hard on him. He wasn’t feeling good about himself. The next day, Sid goes and gets the kid and takes him for a haircut. It’s a little gesture but on a team looking to build, it’s an important one. That’s the kind of thing Sid does on a daily basis. The kind of thing most people won’t notice.”

Five years ago, during COVID, the Penguins were upset by Montreal in the preliminary round of the playoffs. The disappointed team flew home from Toronto, where games were being played at Scotiabank Arena without fans.

The team scattered, as teams tend to scatter at the end of every season. Crosby didn’t scatter. He went from the airport to the arena. He wasn’t happy with how the season ended.

He got on the ice and practiced alone that afternoon. That was Sid being Sid.

a good day to have fond feelings about sid

[diushek]

Shen Yuan was a beta all his life so then, now, being the omega Shen Qingqiu who can no longer suppress his secondary gender by Without-a-cure, needs to learn to be an Omega.

The information in the books is damn unclear and it would not be right to go ask for help from disciples or brothels, so he just... Well, he knows that Shang Qinghua is a spy for the demons, and he knows that Mobei Jun is an Omega for his meta knowledge. So he decides to go and threaten Shang Qinghua's ass with exposing him with the other Peak Lords for treason unless he allows him to have private meetings with Mobei Jun.

(At some point, they both reveal themselves as transmigrants? Yes. But not at the beginning for more drama lol Shang Qinghua racking his brains over what the hell Shen Qingqiu the scum villain and HIS KING will talk about in private- )

So, in private meetings with Mobei Jun, Shen Qingqiu humiliates himself with a half-truth: he tells him that I had never experienced anything like omega (after all, the entire CQMS thinks Shen Qingqiu is a beta), and now with Without-a-cure he has stopped taking his suppressants because the damage they were doing to his health, so right now he doesn't know how to do omega basic things like nest, purr, scent, pack behavior...

Mobei Jun agrees to teach him all those omega things; in exchange, Shen Qingqiu will give him more information and those things that Shang Qinghua doesn't have access to, since Shen Qingqiu is, well, Peak Lord of the second most important peak. They make a half-hearted and reluctant agreement, but they are on the same page.

And Mobei Jun teaches him. He teaches him how to fix a nest and the different ways he can use it. How apply blankets properly for softness, or comfort, or space, depends on what suits him. Teaches him to scent with the necessary amount of pheromones on people, objects, pack gifts, puppy gifts- It is a different level for each situation, and it is very necessary that it be respected, because otherwise it could give the wrong message!!

It also teaches purring, different growls, the type of reactions these sounds would have in Alphas or other Omegas. Also what kind of fabrics or robes are more comfortable to wear closer to the heat, what herbs to avoid, what kinds of things might not help him, what types of foods to stock up on for those occasions.

There is a lot of monosyllabic talk, a lot of directions and teachings, and Mobei Jun is not really the type to talk a lot, but neither is Shen Qingqiu, so unless necessary, they won't say much that is not so very important. They drink tea (iced) and they always end their secret meetings by scenting their wrists. It's a habit. Mobei Jun's omega scent is clear like ginger-mint and somewhat spicy, but it doesn't smell demonic itself, then it can go unnoticed.

The change in Shen Qingqiu's Omega behavior is noticeable, not only among the now very spoiled puppy disciples, but among the Peak Lords. Mu Qingfang is glad that Shen Qingqiu is finally accepting being part of the pack, scenting them, giving them scented gifts for their own common spaces. Alphas and betas do not necessarily nest, but in their homes they often have things with the aromas of their packs, giving shape to their home.

There is only one notable difference. Mobei Jun, of course, has taught his omega knowledge biased by his demonic family teaching. So, Shen Qingqiu finds himself... biting.

He bites his disciples' cheeks, he bites their little hands when he comes to scent them. It is easier to give them little bites, so they will only laugh or blush.

He bites Liu Qingge's cheek, one day the Alpha gets really close to him sniffing the clear scent of Mobei Jun on him, asking who is. In defense of Shen Qingqiu, he became nervous!!! And Liu Qingge stepped away as if he had been set on fire, walking away like a penguin.

Randomly bites Mu Qingfang's hands when he is checking him out by Without-a-cure, little bites on his fingers, on his knuckles. Mu Qingfang blushes, steps back, and quickly notes down the reactions. Pff. As if it wasn't normal for Omegas to bite and lick their packs!! Now they will tell that Omegas should not court their Alphas by proving they can kill them in a fight only to decide not to! Of course Binghe's harem didn't work like that, but those were female Omegas! He was a male Omega, that would make the difference, wouldn't it?

So, just, Shen Qingqiu is there, gifting his packs with things with his scent, purring when some Alpha around him is stressed, biting hands, wrists, cheeks. He shamelessly sits close to anyone and drenches them with his scent. He's much more tactile with everyone. He makes comfortable public-nesting spaces in gardens where he invites his youngest disciples (and Binghe, because how could he deprive Binghe of those experiences?! The poor boy is always hungry for affection, hugs, pats and bites more than any other disciple) to snuggle with him while purring and playing some music, just as Mobei Jun had explained that Omegas did with their pups so they could relax after long days-

(The other Peak Lords don't know if Shen Qingqiu has gone mad or is trying to court them all. They also don't want to risk asking and ruining whatever's going on.)

(Amidst all this, and instinctively, both Mobei Jun and Shen Qingqiu begin to see and feel like a pack. They give each other scented blankets, their scents are in their respective nests. There are new jewels among Shen Qingqiu's hair accessories, and new necklaces hanging over Mobei Jun's open necklines. They are a pack. Family of some strange and accidentally acquired kind. Even Shen Qingqiu relaxes in Mobei Jun's nest once while waiting for him due to an urgency among the rebellious demons - which almost causes Shang Qinghua to almost have a qi deviation when he sees him, comfortable in his king's nest just reading.)

(At some point, Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu reveal themselves to be transmigrants- and Shang Qinghua is laughing his fucking shit off, because now he has the explanation of everything, and he's definitely not going to tell him that the normal omega mode of demons is the omega-courtship-family mode of humans. Nope. He'll let Cucumber-bro figure it out for himself.)

[lunaswicked]

Sweet Talk

Paring: College!Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Two roommates— You and Jimmy—find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of tension, desire, and unspoken feelings. What begins as teasing and frustration between you evolves into a night of unexpected intimacy that blurs the lines between hate and attraction.

Tags: enemies to smutville😫, roommates, 18+, p in v, teasing, dirty talking, 9 incher jimmy uso, dickstressing, AND WHATEVER ELSE, ENJOY😋

You and Jimmy rarely saw eye to eye. It wasn’t that you outright despised each other, but the two of you had a way of constantly butting heads over the smallest things. Maybe it was because you were both stubborn, or maybe it was because neither of you ever backed down from an argument. Either way, there was always a tension between you—one that never seemed to fade no matter how much time passed.  

Both of you were college students, navigating your own paths, yet your lifestyles couldn’t have been more different. You poured yourself into your studies, determined to excel in every class, while Jimmy had an almost single-minded obsession with football—both playing it and watching it. If he wasn’t on the field, he was glued to the screen, yelling at players who couldn’t hear him or analyzing plays with the kind of intensity most people reserved for final exams.  

When he wasn’t fixated on football, he’d be locked in his room, spending hours on whatever video game he and his twin brother, Jey, were obsessed with that month. It was almost impossible to get a word in when he was deep in competition mode, his focus unwavering as he trash-talked through his headset. Sometimes, it felt like college itself was just a background noise in his life, something he did because he had to—not because he cared.  

But despite all of that, you knew Jimmy was smart. In fact, he was one of the smartest people you knew, even if he didn’t always act like it. He had a sharp mind, a quick wit, and an ability to break things down in a way that made even the most complicated subjects seem simple. The problem was, hardly anyone ever got to see that side of him. He didn’t apply himself the way he could have, and more often than not, he played the role of the carefree guy who only lived for football and video games.  

"I'm not going. I got lab tomorrow," you said into your phone, shifting against the pillows as you tucked yourself deeper into bed.  

Bianca groaned dramatically on the other end. "Girl, you always busy! Every time I call, it's the same thing—lab this, assignment that. And don’t even get me started on how you be stuck in that house with Jimmy all the damn time."  

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. "First of all, I am not stuck with Jimmy. We just happen to live in the same space. Not like I have a choice."  

"Uh-huh, sure. And yet, every time I ask you to come out, you got an excuse, and he's always somewhere in the background, being annoying," Bianca shot back. "One day, imma just pull up and kidnap you, no warning."  

You laughed, shaking your head. "And do what? Drag me out in my pajamas? Not happening."  

"Don’t test me. I’ll snatch you right up, bonnet and all," she teased. "Seriously, though. You need a break. When’s the last time you had fun? Like, actual fun. Not school, not arguing with Jimmy—fun."  

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. It had been a while since you let loose, but between school, deadlines, and dealing with Jimmy’s daily antics, going out just felt like another task on your already overflowing to-do list.  

"Exactly," Bianca said, as if she could hear your thoughts through the phone. "Look, just think about it. Even geniuses like you need a night off."  

You sighed, glancing toward your closed bedroom door, where you could still faintly hear Jimmy and Jey shouting at their game. "I’ll think about it."  

"That’s what you said last time," Bianca huffed. "I ain't falling for it again. You better show up, or I will come get you."  

You smiled, shaking your head. "We’ll see, B. We’ll see."  

She let out an exaggerated groan but didn’t push it further. "Fine, but don’t think I’m letting this go. I’ll call you tomorrow, and you better give me a yes."  

"Goodnight, Bianca," you said, smirking.  

"Mmhm, whatever. Goodnight, miss I got lab."  

You hung up, staring at the ceiling with a small smile. Maybe she had a point.

Your stomach let out an impatient grumble, loud enough to make you sigh in frustration. You hadn’t eaten in hours, and at this point, there was only one thing that could fix it—a slice of your favorite vanilla cake with extra whipped cream. The thought alone was enough to get you out of bed, pushing aside your tiredness as you made your way down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was quieter than usual, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of the TV from the living room. Normally, Jimmy would be in there, glued to whatever game had his attention for the night, but the lack of his usual shouting made you pause. Maybe he had finally gone to bed for once? That would be a miracle.

But as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, that hope vanished.

Standing by the open fridge, fork in hand, was Jimmy—mid-bite, chewing your cake like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Wearing a fitted black shirt with yellow shorts that showed too much thigh.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brain needing an extra second to process the sheer disrespect of what you were witnessing.

"You gotta to be fucking wit' me," you said, your voice flat.

Jimmy turned his head slowly, fork still in his mouth, his expression completely unbothered. He raised an eyebrow as he chewed, finally swallowing before answering. "What?"

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared him down. "That was my cake, Jimmy."

He had the nerve to glance down at the plate in his hand, then back up at you with a smirk. "You sure about that?"

You let out an exasperated breath, stepping closer. "Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about that cake all damn day. It was the last slice!"

Jimmy shrugged, taking another slow, deliberate bite, as if to rub it in. "Was the last slice. Past tense."

Your jaw dropped. "You are actually the worst person I know."

He chuckled, licking a bit of whipped cream off his fork. "Damn. All this over some cake?"

You threw up your hands. "Jimmy, I needed that cake."

"You needed it?" he repeated, clearly amused. "You make it sound like life or death."

"It is!" you shot back. "I’ve had a long day, and all I wanted was to sit down, enjoy my damn cake, and go to bed happy. But noooo, because somebody just had to be greedy."

Jimmy leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking entirely too entertained. "Sounds like a you problem. You shoulda got here faster or sum."

"Or you could’ve just not eaten something that wasn’t yours," you snapped.

He shrugged again. "You ain't put yo name on it."

Your eye twitched. "We don’t do that in this house, Jimmy. Because normal people have respect."

Jimmy let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he scooped up a piece of cake with his fork. Slowly, deliberately, he strolled toward you, a smug smirk playing on his lips.  

“Here,” he said, holding the fork out in front of you, the fluffy vanilla cake and whipped cream practically taunting you. “You wanna bite?”  

Your arms folded over your chest, and you scoffed, giving him a sharp glare. “I’d rather die before I eat off of you,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.  

Jimmy chuckled, tilting his head as he took another step closer. “Dramatic much?” he teased.  

You held your ground, eyes locked onto his, but the way he was staring at you—intense, playful, like he was daring you—sent a strange shiver down your spine. 

He took another step, closing the space between you, his free hand lazily slipping into the pocket of his shorts. He was close now, too close. You could smell the faint mix of his cologne and the sweet vanilla lingering on his breath.  

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, voice low, taunting. “Scared you’ll like it?”  

Your stomach tightened, but you forced yourself to scoff again, turning your head to the side. “Please, as if.”  

Jimmy let out a soft chuckle, lifting the fork slightly. “Then prove it.”  

You swallowed, glancing at the fork, then back at him. His eyes held something unreadable—dark amusement, challenge. You could feel your own stubbornness warring with the stupid, undeniable craving in your stomach.  

Your eyes flicked back to the cake, the whipped cream looking way too good to pass up.  

He smirked, sensing your hesitation. “C’mon, I ain't got all night,” he murmured, voice smooth, teasing.  

You clenched your jaw, irritation flaring, but your hunger was stronger than your pride. Damn it.  

With an exasperated sigh, you snatched his wrist, steadying his hand as you leaned in. You hesitated for half a second before finally parting your lips and taking the bite off the fork, your tongue barely brushing against the metal.  

Jimmy stilled.  

Your eyes flicked up to his as you pulled away, chewing slowly, the sweet vanilla and cream melting on your tongue.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke.  

His expression darkened just slightly, his smirk fading into something slower, heavier. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he stared at you, watching the way your lips closed around the fork before you finally pulled back.  

Something about the look in his eyes sent a heat crawling up your neck, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the cake.  

You swallowed, shifting on your feet. “Happy now?” you muttered.  

Jimmy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. He tilted his head, his voice dropping an octave.  

“Could’ve just said you wanted a taste,” he murmured.  

Your breath hitched, but you quickly covered it with an eye roll, shoving his wrist away as you stepped back.  

“Shut up, Jimmy.”  

He let out a low chuckle, his smirk never fading as he twirled the fork between his fingers. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark amusement mixed with something else—something heavier, something that made your pulse tick faster than it should have.  

"You act like you hate me," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer, his body heat now palpable. "But here you go, eatin' off my fork."  

Your throat felt dry, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. "I was starving, Jimmy. Don’t flatter yourself."  

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering between your lips and your gaze, his smirk deepening. "Mmm, nah. I think you just wanted to see what I taste like."  

Your breath caught, heart slamming against your ribs.  

"You are so full of yourself," you muttered, stepping back, but you barely moved an inch before he closed the gap again, this time with purpose.  

The air shifted—suffocating, electric. You could hear the faint drip of the kitchen sink, the hum of the refrigerator, but it all faded beneath the way Jimmy was watching you. Like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece.  

"You sure about that?" he murmured, voice low, velvety smooth.  

His free hand brushed against your hip—not fully touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your shorts, enough to send a shiver through you.  

You should have stepped away. Should have said something cutting, something to kill whatever this was. But your body wasn’t listening.  

Jimmy noticed.  

His smirk flickered into something darker, his fingers grazing up your waist, featherlight, testing, waiting for you to stop him.  

You didn’t.  

A slow, knowing hum left his lips. “Thought so,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower.  

Your breath came a little quicker, your skin tingling beneath his touch. Your body was betraying you, leaning into the heat of him.

His fingers finally landed on your chin, tilting it up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were unreadable—dangerous, teasing, but there was something else simmering beneath them. Something that sent your stomach twisting in the worst, best way.  

"You wanna taste somethin' sweet?" he murmured, his thumb barely brushing over your bottom lip. "I can give you more than just cake."  

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening at your sides.  

You just stood there. Frozen. Trapped under his gaze.  

Jimmy leaned in, slow enough for you to stop him, to push him away, but you didn’t. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your lips, his presence consuming every inch of space between you.  

Every nerve was alight, your breath coming shallow and uneven as Jimmy inched closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. The scent of vanilla and his cologne wrapped around you, thick and intoxicating.  

"You gonna stop me?" he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low, teasing.  

You should’ve. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.  

His thumb dragged over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, like he was testing you, waiting for any sign of resistance. When he found none, his smirk deepened, and then—  

His lips brushed yours.  

Not a full kiss, just a whisper of contact, enough to send a sharp jolt straight through you. Your breath hitched, and Jimmy noticed.  

"You’re shaking," he murmured, his free hand sliding up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, your waist—barely there, but enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.  

"I’m n-" You swallowed hard, but the words died in your throat.  

He took advantage of your hesitation, closing the distance entirely. His lips pressed against yours, slow at first, testing, teasing. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his body heat seeping into you, his hand tracing up your spine like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.  

The moment you responded, the moment you gave in and let your lips move against his, it was over.  

Jimmy deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping past, claiming your mouth like he had every right to. His grip turned possessive, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the counter.  

You let out a soft gasp against his mouth, and he groaned in response, swallowing the sound like it belonged to him.  

"You taste better than that damn cake," he muttered against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make your stomach flip.  

A shiver ran through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.  

"Jimmy, we cant—" you breathed, but it came out weak, needy, nothing like the warning you meant for it to be.  

"Shhh," he murmured, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "I got you, baby."  

The nickname sent a new wave of heat through you, your body arching into him before you could think twice about it. His hands slid lower, fingers pressing into your hips, gripping you like he had no intention of letting go.  

"You still wanna act like you hate me?" he whispered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with amusement and something deeper.  

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him this was wrong.  

But the only thing that left your lips was a soft, breathless whimper.  

Jimmy chuckled, dark and knowing.  

"Yeah," he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin before he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. "That’s what I thought."

You knew it was a bad idea, knew you were crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, but still, you couldn’t stop. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he held you close, the pressure of his body pressing against yours—everything felt too good to resist.

You’d always found ways to make excuses, to stay just out of reach. The random times you’d bug him when you needed something opened, pretending it was just too difficult for you to handle on your own. You'd act annoyed, making a big show of how "helpless" you were, even though it was never actually hard. It was just an excuse, a reason to get him close to you. He’d always tease you about it, calling you out on how dramatic you were, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes when he did, something you’d always ignored or tried to explain away. 

Then there were the times he’d bring girls over, just to sit around in the living room, loud and carefree, as if they didn’t matter to him. The jealousy it stirred inside you was a dangerous thing. You’d play it cool, roll your eyes and pretend you didn’t care. But you did. You cared so much that it burned. It wasn’t about them, not really. It was the way he’d be with them—too casual, too friendly, not even a hint of what he shared with you. He’d stay in the living room with them for hours, laughing, talking like you weren’t there, almost like he was flaunting it. 

Every time he brought a girl around, he’d still somehow find ways to be around you. He wouldn’t let you slip away completely, not with the way he’d casually touch your arm when passing by, or the way his eyes would seek you out in a room full of people. It was almost like he wanted you to be jealous, wanted to see that spark of emotion flash in your eyes when he paid attention to someone else. But he never made a move on them. Not really. You had to wonder if he was testing you, pushing your boundaries to see how far you'd go. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he was giving you the space to make a move of your own. 

Now, there was no going back. 

His lips pulled away just long enough for you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to steady your racing hearts. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, and his other hand had drifted to your lower back, pulling you closer into him. You could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel everything.  

“You know this is crazy, right?” you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were asking him or telling yourself. 

His eyes met yours again, dark and intense, and he gave a small, crooked grin. “Yeah,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip again. “Maybe it’s what we need, ma.”

That was the problem. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about you. It was about both of you. And maybe you both had always known this would happen. Maybe you both had been waiting for the other to make the first move.

His hand slid up beneath your oversized tee, fingers trailing against your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your body reacting to his touch before your mind could catch up. And god—he looked so damn good in those glasses. He rarely wore them, but when he did, it did something to you, something dangerous. It wasn’t just the way they framed his sharp features, or the way they made him look even more intense. It was the way they added to that quiet, confident arrogance of his—the way he knew exactly how they affected you.

Your lips parted, and without even thinking, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to contain the rush of anticipation flooding through you. His eyes darkened at the sight, his pupils dilating with hunger. A low, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, deep and intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could process it, he moved—swift, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with no effort at all. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he set you down onto the cool marble countertop. 

He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel every hard line of his body pressing into you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from him, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

“Fuck,” Jimmy mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with something between frustration and need. His hands roamed your sides, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as your hands moved instinctively to the hem of your shorts, pushing them down until they slipped off your legs and pooled onto the floor.

It had been over a year—too long since anyone had touched you like this. And yet, a single kiss from the one man you swore you couldn’t stand had you wetter than anyone ever had. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy. But you didn’t care.

Jimmy broke the kiss, his gaze trailing down your body until it settled on your yellow lace thong. The way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened—it sent a rush of heat straight through you. You didn’t even have to look down to know how hard he was. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he undid his pants, never once breaking eye contact.

“You hate me for real, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but thick with something deeper, something desperate.

Your eyes locked onto his, and you forced out a soft, defiant, “Mhm.” But it came out as a whimper, betraying the war raging inside you.

His smirk was slow, knowing. “Yeah?”

Before you could say anything else, his pants and boxers hit the floor, and your breath hitched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your fingers twitching against the countertop as anticipation curled low in your stomach.

And that’s when you felt it—the hard press of him against you, only the thin lace of your thong keeping you apart. A sharp gasp slipped past your lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth as he kissed you deeper, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you locked in place. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging in as a shudder ran through you.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured, his voice teasing but rough, his breath hot against your lips.  

Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, clouded with a mix of defiance and something dangerously close to surrender. “Ye—yeah,” you mumbled, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.  

His smirk was slow, knowing. His grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your hips. “Bet”  

Before you could say anything else, he stretched you—slow, deliberate, making sure you felt every inch of his dick claiming you. Your mouth fell open, a soundless moan escaping as your body arched into him. His forehead rested against yours, both of you caught in the moment, breathing each other in.  

Your hands clutched at his back, nails dragging along his skin as he pulled you impossibly closer, filling you to the hilt. The heat, the tension, the months of unspoken rivalry and buried longing—it all exploded into something neither of you could stop now.  

And you didn’t want to.

Jimmy moved slowly, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching with every deep, calculated stroke. You were used to men who rushed, who chased their own pleasure without thinking about yours. But Jimmy—he took his time, like he had something to prove. Like he wanted you to feel every inch of what he was doing to you.  

A shaky breath escaped your lips as your fingers curled against his shoulders. “J-Jimmy…”  

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “What, baby?” His voice was thick, teasing, but there was something raw beneath it.  

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as you arched into him. “I—” Your words faltered, another breathy whimper slipping free as he rocked into you again, slow and deep.  

He chuckled lowly, his lips trailing down your jaw, pressing lazy kisses along your skin. “You always talk back, always got somethin’ smart to say,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips brushing under your oversized tee. “But look at you now… all quiet for me.”  

Your nails dug into his back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Shut up,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.  

Jimmy smirked against your skin, his grip tightening. “Nah, you love this shit,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody ever taken their time with you, huh? Always quick, always rough… but that’s not what you need.”  

You bit your lip, refusing to admit how right he was.  

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression dark, hungry. “When a man really wanna fuck a woman, he don’t rush it. He wanna feel that pussy. That’s the whole fuckin’ point, mama.”  

A shudder ran through you, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. He was ruining you, and he knew it.  

“Tell me you still hate me,” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he rolled his hips just right.  

You wanted to. You wanted to hold onto that last shred of defiance. But all that left your lips was a shaky, breathless moan.

His grip tightened as he leaned in, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Say it,” he murmured, voice thick with control. “Tell me you don’t hate me, baby.”  

Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body on fire. “I—I don’t hate you, Jimmy,” you panted, barely able to form the words as his dick hit every sweet spot in your body.  

He hummed in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted. “Mmh, I know,” he rasped, his dark gaze locked onto yours. “You just needed some dick, didn’t you?”  

Your heart pounded, fingers digging into his shoulders. You didn’t answer, couldn’t. But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Say it.”  

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your head nodding before you could stop yourself. His smirk deepened, his grip tightening as he watched you unravel beneath him.  

The tension coiled tighter, every inch of your body wound up and desperate for release. “Jimmy—Yes…” Your words trailed off into a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built.  

He read you instantly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Cum on this dick, baby. I got you.”  

And just like that, you shattered, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your body gave in. He held you through it, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours.  

“Damn,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. Jimmy didn’t let up. His grip on you was firm as he pulled you down to your feet, spinning you around with ease. His hands guided you, pressing your front against the counter as his body crowded you from behind.  

“Arch that back for me,” he murmured, voice thick with command.  

You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers gripping the cool surface as he slid inside of you, teasing, taking his time. Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.  

“Damn,” he groaned, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Knew you just needed me to take care of you.”  

Your head fell forward, your lips parting. “Please…”  

He smirked at the way the word rolled off your tongue. “Yeah, baby?”  

You couldn’t form the words. Your thoughts were a blur, tangled in the heat of the moment.  

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing down your spine. “Mmh, all that attitude, all that ‘I hate you’ talk—where it at now?”  

You bit your lip, trying to hold on to whatever fight you had left, but it was useless. His fingers slid lower, finding your clit with ease. A sharp gasp escaped you, your body trembling under his touch.  

“Thought so,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His fingers moved faster as he coaxed you closer to the edge. “And you ain’t done yet, baby. You gonna gimme another one before I let up.”  

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips. “Yeah?”  

He hummed in satisfaction, his fingers working fast but firm, knowing exactly how to unravel you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “And you gon’ take it.”  

Your body tensed, heat pooling low in your stomach as the sensation built higher, stronger, consuming every part of you.  

“Jimmy—” Your voice broke, your grip on the counter tightening as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his arms holding you close as he followed, his breath heavy, his hands still gripping you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  

“fffuuuckk,” he muttered, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl.”  

Your knees felt weak, your breath shaky, but he held you steady, his lips ghosting over your skin as if savoring the moment.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured against your ear, his voice teasing, smug.  

You let out a breathless laugh, too dazed to even pretend anymore. “Shut up, Jimmy.”  

His chuckle was low, knowing. “ight.”

The night unfolded in a blur of tension and connection, each moment between you and Jimmy pulling you deeper into something unplanned. You moved through the apartment together. His dick was inside of you in the living room, slow and intense, his hands exploring with a mix of desire and tenderness. Every room, every new position felt deliberate.

It wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the quiet tenderness in his touches, the way he’d pull you close, his hand brushing through your hair. With each passing moment, it became clear: this wasn’t a fleeting thing. Whatever had sparked between you two, it was something deeper than you’d expected. And as the night ended, you couldn’t help but wonder where it would lead.

[mollys-meadow]

Who initiates hugs? Jim, definitely. Molly relaxes onto them but she's definitely too shy to ever initiate them.

Who wants to hold the hug longer? Molly. She doesn't say anything about it but it pains her to let go.

Who borrows the other one's phone charger? They both do. Kinda. Jim only forgets his when he WANTS to forget it and if he steals Molly's it's to annoy her, but it doesn't happen often. Molly on the other hand, regularly gets hers lost.

Who loses their keys / wallet? Molly. She loses things all the time, something she inherited from her mother. When Jim is around he points out exactly where she lost it and Molly gets mad that he didn't think to mention it as it happened.

Who's better with money? Depends on your definition of it. Jim is very good at making money so he doesn't mind spending it carelessly. Molly gets paid fairly but London is expensive, despite this she manages to make ado without having to share a flat so I'd say she's doing fine.

Who tried to hide the relationship from their parents? Well, Jim's are dead so there isn't much to hide from them, and Molly didn't exactly try to hide their relationship, merely the true nature of it.

Who's better in the kitchen? Sebastian. I know he isn't part of this relationship but this is the only right answer. Sebastian.

Who needs/gets more sleep? They both are sleep deprived, Molly's work is quite exhausting and Jim is an insomniac but he indulges in a nap every now and then, and he indulges often in waking up late. Molly doesn't, she gets shifty if she stays in bed for long in the morning.

Who's more laid back and who's more hard working? Jim is clearly the definition of "work smarter not harder", he knows how to exploit every opportunity for profit but he's relaxed about it. All the work is on his head, the rest is just seeing it in motion.

Who has more empathy? Molly. She's always been a bleeding heart but it has reached a point where it's not a virtue but a flaw. She gets too emotionally tied and too forgiving and everything just hurts her so much.

If they were to adopt a pet together, what pet would it be? I mean, they already have Toby but... Probably another cat.

Who is more outgoing? Jim but it's just for show, he doesn't actually like most people.

What is their love language? For Jim it has to be physical contact but he also enjoys quality time. For Molly it's mostly acts of service.

Are they holding any secrets from each other? Yes, many. They don't talk -REALLY talk- so there are many things they do not know about each other, and many things they consciously hide.

Which one is more likely to cheat? Both, kinda, but for different reasons. Molly would be the most likely because she wouldn't think the relationship is real or serious and so she wouldn't think of it as cheating because it's not a REAL relationship. Jim would cheat if he gains something out of it, and he isn't particularly invested in the monogamous agenda so he'd not care.

Which one first brings up the idea of having kids? Jim. He doesn't want any but he knows there's nothing Molly dislikes quite as much as the idea of ever becoming a mother and he knows Molly's mother would be delighted by the idea so he'd bring it up to have fun tormenting her.

Who sleeptalks? Neither. When Molly is really stressed she screams and cries some gibberish in her sleep but that's about it.

OTP questions:

Who initiates hugs?

Who wants to hold the hug longer?

Who borrows the other one’s phone charger?

Who loses their keys/wallet?

Who’s better with money?

Who tried to hide the relationship from their parents?

Who’s better in the kitchen?

Who needs/gets more sleep?

Who’s more laid back and who’s more hard working?

Who has more empathy?

If they were to adopt a pet together, what kind of pet would it be?

Who is more outgoing?

What is their love language?

Are they holding any secrets from each other?

Which one is more likely to cheat?

Which one first brings up the idea of having kids?

Who sleeptalks?

[soupslice]

Blue light

(Internetcafe!joost x f!reader)

Summary: Joost makes a move on the pretty girl at the internet café.

Tags: fluff, a bit angsty maybe, teasing, mutual longing, a little suggestive in the end but nothing crazy, joost tries to act tough but is actually a softie lol

Wc: about 1,800

If you are a minor or uncomfy with rpf please dni!!

───── ⋆⋅☆📺☆⋅⋆ ─────

You swing open the door to the city’s only internet café.

Open 24/7, and a great place to hide away from the cold on a day like this. An even better place to joke around and relax after a long day of studying. The café is pretty busy today. You’re met with the chatter of the people already there, laughing and bickering as they’re playing games together, emailing each other memes. The room is dim, bathing in a warm yellowish light. Despite the old state the place is in, you find it weirdly cozy. Not like you haven’t been there before. The fans usual humming next to the water dispenser. Service posters and ‘no smoking’ signs are plastered on the walls.

The culprit is the only person who seemingly isn’t having a good time, the receptionist, Joost, smoking a cigarette behind his desk at the far back. He also happens to be the main reason you come by every week. The never-faltering scowl plastered on his face, clacking away on his keyboard. You wonder what keeps him so busy all day, except cleaning up after customers of course. Maybe he is just playing tetris all day. But you did once catch him snacking on an onion. Strange guy, really.

Despite his rather annoyed attitude, you find Joost embarrassingly attractive. Looking up at you with smudged eyeliner around his blueberry like eyes whenever you speak to him. Most other conversations he has during the day are cut short, not really feeling like talking to anyone.

You make your way through the rows of desks until you reach Joosts. Feeling a jolt in your stomach when you lay eyes on him. He doesn’t want to admit it , but he was hoping you would come by today. It’s Wednesday already, so the fact that you was not here yesterday is out of the ordinary.

It takes Joost longer than usual to respond when you start talking to him. Cigarette smoke lingering in the air around his desk. But when you mention the note on the window outside his head immediately perks up. The ‘We’re hiring!’ flyer exactly what the blond hoped you would bring up. Relieved that you’re the one asking and not any of the others who spend their time at the cafe. He removes one of his wired earphones and looks at you with faux nonchalance. “You just seem so busy all day, might be easier if we were two. I also come here like multiple times a week, so why not?” you blabber on, almost nervously. He nods at you while he puts out his cigarette on the porcelain ashtray he keeps on the counter. Spending a bunch of extra time with him at the café could be fun, you really like the place anyway.

You get a bit intimidated as his blue eyes pierce right through you, even though you saw him peeking at you when you walked through the door. He could fit an entire ocean in there if he really tried. The beauty mark beneath his lips that you love so much catches your eye, but only for a what must be half a second. You swear that you can see a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth before he finally speaks. His accent seeping through most words. “My shift ends at 8, stay for a while and we’ll discuss it then ja?”

“Why so late?” You almost chuckle. “I mean I can wait, but haven’t you been here since this morning?” you add. To which Joost just shrugs and hums an “i don’t know, I don’t really mind it,”and looks back at his screen again.

“Oookay, allergic to sunligt much,” you retort jokingly right as you turn to take a seat at a computer. He scoffs at that, a small smile on his lips. Little did you know he actually might be.

You sit down at a computer pretty far into the café. Joost to your right. Even though you come here often; his company, although quiet, could never tire you. Seeing him annoyed and busy in his usual element is also pretty funny to you. However done he may feel he is never hesitant to help anyone who needs it though. You may or may not have asked him for help when you did in fact know how to fix whatever problem the computer was having. Feeling his hand on the armrest of your chair as he leans over the desk does something to you. His arm just slightly touching your shoulder. So close that you can feel the slight hint of aftershave hidden beneath the smell of the cigarettes he smokes. His touch sends shockwaves through you. Wondering how his hands would feel wrapped around your waist. His lips nipping at your neck.

You think you’re being smooth. But Joost knows. Way more than you could possibly think he does actually. He can see your eyes widen at the small expanse of his tummy that reveals itself when he stretches. Notice the blush that creeps up your cheeks whenever he stands in front of you like a tower. It amuses him how much he’s got you wrapped around his finger. When you leave it somehow gets even harder for him to focus. His mind lingering on the smell of your perfume, your laugh echoing in his head. The way you smile at him with a glint in your eye, secretly admiring each other before looking away yet again.

After a while Joost gets curious about what you’re up to. He can no longer hear the soundtrack of your favourite video game, ‘no one lives forever’, blend in with the hum of computers and the chatter still present in the café. It’s so cute the way your brows knit while moving the mouse around the screen. Something having clearly caught your attention. His curiosity gets the better of him and he gets up without you noticing, almost like he wasn’t there at all. You are way too focused on the ms-paint window currently open on your desktop. Joost grabs a black plastic bag and routinely starts walking around to pick up trash and other stuff left behind on the desks. Some old gum (ew), soda cans and all that.

He eventually closes in on you and takes a peek at your screen, squinting since he is not wearing his glasses. His cheeks grow warm as he scans the brush strokes that covers the digital canvas. A portrait of him on the page, a camel, and… onions?? He contemplates saying something, but quickly realises that it would look a bit weird to the other customers still around. Settling for walking back to his desk instead.

When 19.30 rolls around the blond calls out to you, putting the magazine he was reading down on his desk. “I’m basically done for today, come to the back.” Joost says and waves you over to him. You reach over to the power button before you follow him inside. There’s a staff only sign on the door. A few desks and shelves upon shelves with CDs and extra hardware parts decorate the space. You notice a bag of funyuns lying around on a table. As well as Joosts ipod and some pocket money. The setting almost matches the café, you think.

“So,” he starts, leaning on one of the desks. A new cigarette hanging from between his lips.

“You want me to hire you?” He asks. You actually want him to do a lot more to you than that. But this is a good approach nonetheless.

“Yeah, It’s no secret that i like the place. And i could probably use the extra money as well,” you argue. One of your hands instinctively starts playing with your necklace.

Still leaning back, Joost takes a drag and exhales before standing up completely. Right in front of you. He is dangerously close now. Just the simple motion of him standing up makes your head spin. He is so much taller, not looking entirely at you.

After months of dancing around each other, months of yearning and pretending not to mind it, months of Joost not daring to make a move on you, he finally, FINALLY, lets himself give in. Lowering his voice a few notches before he asks; “Is that really the only reason, schatje?” with a smirk that decorates his pretty lips. He’s not hiding his gaze anymore, drinking in the sight of your red cheeks and half open jaw as the question lingers between you.

Of course it was not your only reason. His intimidating figure is making you hot all over, and he wears a face like he knows it, too. The expression completely different from the irked scowl he usually defaults to while at his desk. You have never seen him smile like this before. Confidence high on his bloodstream and it’s the most gorgeous he has ever looked.

Unbelievable. Unfathomable. It feels insane what is happening to you right now. A reoccurring fantasy that has somehow trickled into reality. The thought of his delicious weight pressed on top of you making you toss and turn in the middle of the night. Again and again. You feel stupid for being so struck, for letting him have this effect on you. His mere proximity rendering you so obviously wordless that you almost want to scurry away and hide.

When you don’t respond, you actually see his smile falter a bit, afraid he might have overstepped. Theres a sharp jab in his stomach at the thought. Maybe he just ruined exactly everything. He wonders if you can hear the heavy thud of his heart. “I don’t know Joost, should I come back next week and find out?” You respond after what feels like a lifetime. You’re finally able to grasp onto some sort of composure at your words.

“Sounds good, we are officially coworkers then!” He exclaims with a chuckle. A bit taken aback himself, but so relieved. It clears the tension a bit, but for now you don’t quite care. Having gotten the confirmation that he wants exactly the same thing as you do. Joost takes your hand in his and shakes it dramatically as you start laughing as well.

After chatting for a while longer, you both realise that it’s getting late. The manager is now the one behind the desk to take the night shift. You wave Joost goodbye outside the café door as both of you head your separate ways. So close yet so far away. If only you could have said what you wanted to, anything! Anything to pull him in by the collar and press your lips to his. Anything to wake up to his blond tousle of hair next to you every morning, see the sun coat his bare chest. It’s a thought that should feel too intimate for a guy you only see a few times a week. But it just feels so right.

You already know that you will not be able to sleep tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆📺☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: I have a few more things in mind for these two (obviously) so this is pt 1/2! Also this is my first published fic!! Who cheered!? Anyway thank u for reading, constructive feedback very much appreciated lol :,)

AND DONT WORRY VAMPIRE JOOST WILL MAKE AN APPEARANCE IN PART 2 TRUSTT

[luckykiwiii101]

THE DEVIL DOESN’T WEAR SUBMISSION! SHE WEARS PRADA, OH!- AND NARCISSISM!

| | THE 411 ON HOW TO MANIFEST YOUR DREAM LIFE! | |

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

ཐི keep your head & heels high, and your middle finger higher ཋྀ

ཐི TABLE OF CONTENTS ཋྀ

✰ BELIEVING IN THE LAW ✰

✰ “AND WHO AM I? BETTER THAN YOU” ✰

✰SELF CONCEPT; BE NARCISSISTIC, THE GOSSIP GIRL WAY✰

✰ YOUR WAY IS THE RIGHT WAY & THE ONLY WAY ✰

✰ SPIRALS ARE ONLY FOR STAIRCASES ✰

p.s. psssst!! hey “void” worshippers, this is also for you. so read it. To everyone, take a day off to let all this information settle, it’s quite a lot!!

Welcome back Upper East Siders.

It’s often said that, no matter the truth, people see what they want to see. Some people might take a step back and find out that they’ve been looking at the same big picture all along. Some people see that their lies have almost caught up to them. Some people may see what was there all along.

But because you’ve fallen to submission, chances are that you’re blinded from the things that are right in-front of you. I’d call you legally blind but it’s a different type of law that you’re breaking.

Talk about secrets of the universe, but you’re living proof that knowledge doesn’t always mean wisdom, and that money can’t buy style, or class.

And if there’s one thing we all know about fashion, it’s that before putting an article of clothing on, you have to take one off, usually with the intention of putting another one back on. Or you’ll end up looking like a complete mess! or under your best friend’s BF! I hope S is taking notes…but even the biggest superstars need a stylist. And luckily for you, I have a friend who’s into fashion, and not just any fashion, high fashion, Little J, come out, come out wherever you are…

Oh wait! Almost lost track of my endless talents but i’m also great at fashion, and i’m simply just better. You can go back to crashing runways little J, and also just…running away.

✰ BELIEVING IN THE LAW ✰

First of all, I want you to know that all your dreams are possible and very easy. So this is for those doubtful upper east siders who forgot that the law of assumption is actually real, and not some joke made up by teenagers online.

Spend some time going through my law of assumption proof gallery to help clear your doubts in the law -> CLICK ME!

Now that you’ve boosted your faith in the law of assumption, of course you can believe 99%, but you’re going to have to fill that 1% on your own, through your own success.

✰ “AND WHO AM I? BETTER THAN YOU” ✰

Do you understand the law of assumption? -> CLICK ME

And do you understand who you actually are? Cause when someone asks, your only response should be “god”. -> CLICK ME

So how does “the void state” & “reality” work? In your favour, as usual -> CLICK ME

✰SELF CONCEPT; BE NARCISSISTIC, THE GOSSIP GIRL WAY✰

Spotted: Lonely boy’s rude awakening. Upper East Side Queens arent born at the top. They climb their way up in heels, no matter who they have to tread on to do it. Now what to wear with those heels…

Well, we hear narcissism’s in fashion, and rumour has it, she’s here to stay. But as I said before, putting a new outfit on requires taking the other off, and I ask disrespectfully, WHAT is that outfit!? You need a serious makeover! -> CLICK ME

A wise woman once said, the most dangerous enemies are the ones we never knew we had. And then there are those assumptions you never knew you held.

Now that you know why you kept failing previously, it’s time for your new self concept! And your permanent self concept. I promise, you’ll never fail again. You can’t do something impossible like failure. And since you understand the law and who you are (I AM) you know that failure simply isn’t possible.

What to wear? Failure? No. Narcissism. She looks much better on you anyway. Choose to wear the ugly outfit? Well I’ve got a friend on cyberspace who knows exactly what to do. And those flashes of clicked pics definitely aren’t coming from the paparazzi.

But I know, I know. “Narcissism” Isn’t that a bad thing? Not when it comes to being who you want. And all I mean is putting yourself on the highest pedestal. You’re going to completely fall in love with yourself, by becoming your desired self. That includes you void worshippers! Stop being submissive to the outer self. You dictate her, not the other way around. You’re going to be your desired self who has their dream life, no matter what. You’re above everyone and everything! Narcissistic, I like it.

First of all, remind yourself of what your dream life is and who you’re going to dedicate yourself to being. All good? Perfect! So here’s your new self concept & reminders to self -> CLICK ME

With this, what you’re going to do, is make your own personalised self concept guide. The one i’ve given you is only generalised to everyone’s use. I’ve given “directions” on where to add your own ideas, but don’t remove my ones because they’re extremely important and shouldn’t be ignored!! To make your own personalised self concept guide, just copy & paste the text on the template, and add your own ideas to your heart’s content, and decorate it to your liking & aesthetic. No harm in making it look pretty. Use pretty colours, pretty pics of your dream life etc. I recommend making yours on either notion, or tumblr. If you do end up making yours on tumblr, make it a private & pinned post so that you’ll see it on your front page and remember to come back to it. The only time you should ever open tumblr is to view your self concept guide or this post or the other ones i’ve made!!

Get into the state of being your desired self. Because that IS you. Embody your new self concept. Relish in it. Love it. You are going to fully immerse yourself into your new self concept. Finally, once and for all, be the real you. She’s been waiting for you.

✰ YOUR WAY IS THE RIGHT WAY & THE ONLY WAY ✰

A lot of upper east siders have been wondering. “What’s the right way to manifest?” Your way. Your way and only your way. Whatever you want is the right thing to do. You should already understand that from “enter the god state” post. That’s why it’s important that you personalise your own self concept guide!! YOU make the rules!

I hope you like the self concept template i’ve given you, and now you’re going to embody your dream self.

✰ SPIRALS ARE ONLY FOR STAIRCASES ✰

Need a wake up call? CLICK ME! They don’t call New York “the city that never sleeps” for nothing.

The purpose of the self concept guide and why it’s so important is to stop you from spiralling. Need guidance? Go back to the self concept guide and remind yourself of who you are.

Also, I have a post that really helps with spiralling. Come back to this every time you feel like spiralling -> CLICK ME

And don’t forget upper east siders, if you won’t do it out of love, do it out of spite. And you’re going to be bitch, at-least do it the right way. You’re the boss. The devil doesn’t wear submission, she wears prada, oh!- and narcissism. XOXO

- gossip girl

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

[utilitycaster]

Imo (as someone who didn't watch the finale, so I'm happy to be wrong), one of the bigger problems with the ending that isn't being discussed is that religions don't work like that. I'm not talking about cosmology or divinity, which people have already spoken on plenty, but the people who actually believe the beliefs.

There are people who believe their god was in some way mortal (Buddhists, some Christians), but they still practice the belief. I'm Jewish, and if it was definitively proven that God isn't real, I would still be a practicing Jew. The gods of Exandria becoming mortal would definitely cause schisms and theological debates, but the gods as concepts would continue to hold power regardless of their mortality or continued existence. Vasselheim would change, but it wouldn't be rocked to its knees.

Obviously, the cast has their own biases and thoughts on religion. That's understandable, but in a campaign and world that is increasingly about How Religion Amd Gods Shape Things, why is religion treated only as a plot point and not a dynamic of understanding the world, yaknow?

This is a hard question to answer since I think to truly give a good answer I'd need a thesis statement and several weeks of writing, but in short, as myself a practicing Jew and philosophically somewhere between weak and apathetic agnosticism I agree that Exandria as a setting did a good job of exploring individual faith/devotion to divinity, and a very bad job of exploring the concept of religion on an anthropological level.

I do think the fact that most of the people with whom I can have a conversation about this are either fellow non-Christians existing in a Christian dominated society; left-leaning Catholics from a rigorous intellectual tradition in the Protestant-dominated US; or people who left a more conservative Christian sect for a more progressive one and in doing so interrogated the nature of religion and faith is telling. I think if you were raised strictly Christian and either swore off religion entirely (the ex-Evangelicals who never unlearned lack of empathy/self-centeredness and simply applied it in a different direction) or were raised Christian but not particularly religious and live in a culturally Christian society in which that is the norm and thus you never had to see yourself as a person with an identity and a practice outside said norm, you are far more likely fail to adequately notice this as a problem with Exandrian worldbuilding.

Something that struck me as I thought about this (on my solo walks to and from synagogue today, no less) is that I am someone who for various reasons, academic, religious, and otherwise, has spent a lot of time thinking about the role of ritual in daily life. And the thing is, "ritual" has in many cases been coopted into a thing you do very much for yourself, often with a capitalist slant - self-care as consumption as ritual. (If you look up companies named Ritual, it's zero proof spirits and vitamins/supplements and takeout). It is individualist and is intended to soothe one's self.

Ritual is far more than that. Ritual is a sign of community. It is a means of remembrance. It is a reminder to look outside of yourself. We light candles on Friday night not for ourselves - indeed, we are prohibited from using them as a light source - but to welcome someone of something else. We blow the shofar to wake ourselves and our community up to what we can can change and do better.

Jester and Caduceus are in my opinion the strongest practitioners of ritual across campaigns, but both are from very small groups of practitioners. We meet many clerics and adherents, but their stories or their experiences with religion as part of daily life are largely untold.

And this is just about ritual, which is in many cases neutral or even positive, but as discussed there is no real hegemony - Vasselheim holds respect and serves as a vault for divine secrets, but outside of that has little political sway. Caduceus and Fjord do not answer to Hierophant Ophera. We also see very little of those theological questions or debates - one must imagine they occur, but it, like the world of ritual or religious service, feels oddly empty. There are temples, and there are keepers of those temples, but the temples always feel like they pop into existence for the PCs and vanish when they're not present. I remember during Campaign 2 there was a great discussion of how D&D offers a concept of religion without the need for faith in the unseen - the gods exist definitively - and it just feels like that's never been reflected meaningfully in the world of Exandria, and that wasn't really a problem with Campaigns 1 or 2 and it very much was with the concepts C3 attempted to tackle.

[thebreakfastgenie]

This might be a bit spicy a take but the way leftists talk about populism being an amazing thing or whatever annoys me because like… populism is just low level demagoguery I won’t lie. Or at least, demagoguery is the natural conclusion of populism if taken to its furthest extent.

I think populism is woven into American culture. It's all through our national mythology. "We the people" are rallying words for Americans. The problem is and always has been defining who the "common people" are. Most people think of themselves as belonging to that group and so define it as "people like me" which often has poor results for obvious reasons, especially in a country with very little class consciousness. This relates to a lot of things but I want to point out race specifically because it's been so integral since the beginning. A lot of populist narratives inherently define the common people as white. We have a cultural image of a "real American." Why is someone from the heartland (it goes so deep!! the fact that it's even called that!) more American than someone from New York City? A lot of Americans put people outside the "common people" category based on things like education or identities they view as cosmopolitan. Millionaires and billionaires can make aesthetic choices that will code them as less elite than a New Yorker with a masters degree. Populism just seems to be a losing philosophy for the left. The right makes it work. Look how rampant anti-intellectualism is.

Even when people do view the ultrawealthy as out of touch, a lot of it is more motivated by jealousy than justice. People responded to Bernie Sanders' rhetoric, but I think a significant number of them were, consciously or not, thinking "it's not fair that these people are rich and I'm not." I think a lot of Americans believe if you could stop a few people from hoarding wealth, everyone could be rich. Not just comfortable and cared for, but rich. We're a nation of temporarily embarrassed millionaires. The myth of the American Dream comes back to haunt us once again. To Bernie's credit I think he knew that and was hoping he could persuade these people but it didn't work (and he should have given up after 2016 imo) and I don't think the people on the left who came after him are as aware as he is.

It's always funny to me when leftists point to the popularity of hating on big corporations. Everyone hates big corporations as a concept, but the feelings behind it can be very different. A lot of people fantasize about being business owners. A lot of hate for corporations comes from smaller business owners who are protecting their business interests. This is not exactly Marxist in nature. This is another reason the conflation of "big corporations" with "capitalism" is a problem! Lots of people hate big corporations and love capitalism. They also hate vague images of guys in suits sitting around boardrooms. They absolutely love the services big corporations provide and sometimes identify with the corporations themselves! People love Walmart, they love Amazon, but they hate "big corporations."

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

"What kind of trauma, pain and violence is so great that even death cannot stop it?": Reincarnation in "Nosferatu" (2024)

I already talked about this extensively in another post (and even did some brainstorming on Eggers' Orlok possible backstory) but I want to come back to this topic, because this is probably my favorite theme in this film, mostly because it’s left so ambiguous, and I’ve come across more interviews and got more evidence.

A little introduction: Robert Eggers doesn’t want us to know the backstory on his Count Orlok, but he wrote a novella on it and gave it to Bill Skarsgård, for preparation. We know he’s a 16th century Transylvanian nobleman, from the 1580s (“lord” and “lordship”), he’s not Vlad the Impaler (15th century), he was a voivode (warlord), a enchanter/sorcerer (Şolomanari) and he was married, and had a family. "That will never be shared because the mystery of the enigma is better for an audience, but it was important for Bill to have that history." Eggers needs to release his novella on Orlok backstory, because I want to know!

And this backstory actually influenced Bill’s entire performance, as Robert Eggers reveals in one interview: “And while Bill was also doing what I was asking for, he brought more to the table too, particularly with binding moments where Orlok was vulnerable. I was so sick of the tropes of the sad vampire that I didn't want to go there. But Bill knew that it was important to still have the vulnerability in some places. And I think it makes the performance.”

Including the ending: “I sent [Bill] a backstory of Orlok that I wrote. So we came to it together to achieve what I was after. Because I’m so tired of the heroic and sad vampires, I was just like, ‘He’s a demon. He’s so evil.’ Bill was like, ‘Yeah, but there needs to be some times where he has some kind of vulnerability.’ It’s very subtle, and it’s not there often, but it is enough. I think the ending of the movie is much more effective than it would have been without Bill’s acute sensitivity to that – while still delivering on this big, scary, masculine the vampire”.

We have Bill to thank for Orlok’s more nuance performance, because Eggers’ initial idea was cardboard demon, due to his aspiration of making vampires scary again. But this tell us something else (I already suspected): Orlok’s backstory is definitely tragic and sad. Hence Eggers saying he didn’t want the “sad vampire” but Bill said vulnerability was necessary to add depth to the character. And thank Bill for that, because, personally, I can’t stand one-dimensional characters, even “demonic” ones.

The prologue of the film (between Ellen and Orlok) is based on this material: “Most importantly, I was thinking, ‘Who are these characters, and how can I build out their backstories and make them real people?’ I also wanted our version to be Ellen’s story. The previous Nosferatu films start out as Thomas Hutter’s story, or Jonathan Harker’s, and then become Ellen’s story, but I wanted it to always be her story. Our film’s prologue comes from the work I did with the novella.”

When discussing the use of Dacian and the reconstruction process, Robert Eggers revealed Orlok is a very ancient being: "Orlok is an ancient noble, predating even the foundations of the Romanian Empire."

This tells us we are, indeed, dealing with reincarnation in this story, because the "Count Orlok" in the film is a late 16th century corpse, with a whole boyar and vovoide backstory, the sovereign of a Transylvanian county (count). But he’s also a priest-shaman follower of Zalmoxis, the Dacian God of life and death, and owner of the secrets of immortality. Reincarnation being true immortality actually makes perfect sense; and it’s also a theme in one of the most iconic “Dracula” films of all time, “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” by Francis Ford Coppola.

"Ellen’s most prominent evening dress is indigo with lilacs embroidered and beaded on the front and on the sleeves. This lavender hue subliminally underscores the connection between Ellen and Orlok, who remembers lilacs from when he was alive." Nosferatu costumes link Ellen and Count Orlok Interview

Ellen is the lead character, and Robert Eggers says he wanted to tell his version of this story "through the eyes of the female protagonist", and "it is a tale of love and obsession and a Gothic romance” and he even said Ellen and Orlok are "beyond love". What's intriguing to me is why is his Orlok so obsessed with Ellen, specifically. Why does he want her soul forever at his side? Why is he dragging her to her grave? Because this is his motivation in this story. He’s not after world domination nor anything. Ellen’s soul by his side for all eternity is what he wants (and gets, at the end).

I think the answer can be in his interviews about Balkan and Slavic folklore, because there is one idea that seems to be on his mind:

The most important thing was going back to the folklore and the early Balkan and Slavic folklore [...] Most surprisingly, many of these early folk vampires do not even drink blood; rather, they might suffocate their victims to death or spread plague and disease. Some early folk vampires when disinterred from their grave were noted for having erections. Some of them came back to fornicate with their widows until the women died of an excess of intercourse. If they did drink blood, it was generally not from the throat, but the chest – the victim’s “heart blood.” You can still find reports of vampirism from the Balkan regions, where the folklore is thoroughly enmeshed with local culture. What are we to make of stories like this? What kind of trauma, pain and violence is so great that even death cannot stop it? It’s a heartbreaking notion. The folk vampire embodies disease, death, and sex in a base, brutal and unforgiving way. ‘I had to make the vampire as scary as possible’: Nosferatu’s Robert Eggers on how folklore fuelled his film

Which is something he will mention again:

“You wonder what is the dark trauma that doesn't die when someone dies. […] [So you suspect something terrible happened between them in real life and that this story was a way of grappling with that?] That's my hypothesis.” Robert Eggers Reveals the Ghastly True Tales Behind His New Nosferatu

In Romanian folklore, when strigoi (which is what Orlok is and this is his lore) raise from their grave the first time, they return to those they have loved the most, because they wish to relive their life together. The strigoi usually torment them until they are dead, too. Which is exactly what we see in “Nosferatu” (2024) with Orlok and Ellen.

From the film itself we know he was dead and rotting since the late 16th century until Ellen brought him back from the dead and cursed him to be a strigoi. At the prologue. And, in true strigoi myth, he appears at her window, asking for entrance.

The evidence that Ellen is the reincarnation of Orlok’s wife or lover or bride is palpable in this story, not only in the entire folklore that inspired it, but in the dialogue itself. In another post, I already analyzed Ellen and Orlok’s backstory (after the prologue and before Ellen marriage to Thomas), and Orlok never actually took her as his lover, in the sense there was no “astral sex” going on between them, and what she was doing was masturbation and him as a haunting (still creepy, but he didn’t actually touch her).

But still she’s absolutely convinced he did, and then we have all the connection with the lilacs, from both of them; yes, it’s meant to be a visual storytelling device to represent their relationship, but these flowers are also connected to rebirth, and, according to Linda Muir, recall Orlok from his human life. Ellen is also deeply attracted to Orlok, and only him can understand and fulfill her, but she doesn’t know why. It’s unconscious.

“Yet I cannot be sated without you. Remember how once we were? A moment. Remember?”

In other post, I already discussed the use of the term "sated". Because Orlok (being from the late 16th century) speaks Old English; where this word is connected to the verb “sit”, as in “rest” or “lie”. What Orlok is actually saying is “I cannot rest without you”. Which makes sense with their covenant of being together ever-eternally. He can’t find peace in death without her.

Even the way Bill delivers this line “remember how once we were?” sounds haunted, and a profound yearning and desperation, almost, for her to remember something very old. To me, this is most likely one of those “vulnerable moments” inspired by Orlok’s backstory Robert Eggers was talking about in interviews.

“Remember?”

The option that makes more sense with Ellen and Orlok in “Nosferatu” (2024) is the myth of strigoi coming back to have sex with their widows until they died of excess of intercourse; which is exactly what happens at the end. And the sound design even made sure we, the audience, heard the penetration. Is this the reason why?

But then we have the idea that Eggers mentions twice: what kind of trauma, pain and violence is so great that even death cannot stop it? What is the dark trauma that doesn't die when someone dies?

In “Nosferatu”, it’s Ellen who resurrects Orlok. It’s her sadness, loneliness and sexual awakening which brings him back from the dead. So, can this “trauma” be related to Ellen’s soul, herself? She’s the protagonist, and this is her story. The emotions we are dealing with at the prologue (inspired by Orlok’s backstory, according to Robert Eggers) are; deep loneliness, without a companion to give her comfort and tenderness. And even sexual desire. As a result she resurrects Orlok with her black magic prayer (necromancy).

He also calls her enchantress; and he was a enchanter in life. And indeed, Ellen displays insane spiritual power in this film; Herr Knock needs to assemble a whole ritual room to communicate with Orlok, and she doesn’t need any of that. Which might indicate, she was an actual enchantress in her past life; probably a Şolomonari like Orlok himself. Von Franz does say she could have been a “great priestess” in Pagan times.

We have a lot of Sex Magick in this film (pretty much every Şolomonari ritual is a Sex Magick ritual here). Which, again, can imply it was their “thing” in a past life, too, because their relationship is very sexual and passionate, which is probably how they were, previously, since they both have high sex drives (and this is what Orlok asks her to remember). Orlok the high priest, and Ellen the high priestess. Two freaks in the sheets (and probably in the streets too, Ellen appears to enjoy the outdoors). We are told she has a deep knowledge of the shadow side of life, after all, and she’s an outsider and completely misunderstood (except by Orlok and Von Franz).

Him being a demonic creature, means he cannot love her now (even though Eggers is also making a difference between Thomas (love) and Orlok (passion)), it doesn’t mean he didn’t love her in the past. Especially since this is a direct reference to the “Dracula” novel where one of the bride accuses Dracula of not being able to love, to which he answers; “Yes, I too can love. You yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?” This can indicate that Orlok did love her in their human past life (or lives, even), and fiercely, deeply so.

Searching for clues in Orlok’s castle scenes with Thomas (I already talked about the multiple sarcophagus in the crypt in the other post), Orlok attacks him in a bedroom, and in a double bed, meant for a couple, and it has two pillows (unlike the Victorian couples here, who have separate single beds). Even at the end, Ellen and Orlok are joined in one bed, Ellen’s bed.

Since this was also a Sex Magick ritual to divorce him from Ellen in the spiritual realm, doing it in this specific bedroom (that Orlok selected for him in advance), doesn’t seem random. Maybe this was Orlok’s and Ellen’s bedroom? And she even makes an appearance here.

But Orlok’s soul did not “ascend” (sort of speak), because he says he was in the “darkest pit” as a “loathsome beast”. And, again, in Old English, “loathsome” has another meaning, connected to “grievous”, as in “grief”. He was in some sort of limbo, and when Ellen called out, he returned to his former body, and became a strigoi. So, their emotions match, at the prologue. And if Ellen is a reincarnation of Orlok’s wife or lover, this means her soul moved on to the next life, and his didn’t; causing their further separation. Which can be the explanation on why Orlok is so obsessed in getting her soul this time around; for them not to be apart, again.

And, if we follow this logic, he probably died before she did, in their past life. And that trauma endured on her soul. She probably tried to resurrect him in past, as well? Or was it the other way around? Either way, someone died first, probably in a tragic and violent way and it caused a huge trauma on their souls, for both of them. Since “sex and death” are the core themes here, it’s not unlikely to find them in these characters backstories, too, I would say.

And can this separation of souls create such pain and a trauma so dark it created an actual monster to bring plague and death upon civilization because of their yearning of being united, once again?

Ellen is also said to be “promised” and “fated” to Orlok. Even Von Franz says to Thomas “in vain, you ran in vain. You cannot out-run her destiny!” Is Ellen’s fate to break the curse (she put on him, herself) or for her soul to be united with Orlok’s for all eternity?

In my original post I talked about the hypothesis of human Orlok being among the boyar rebels supporters of Balthasar Báthory for the throne of Transylvania, and was arrested for treason and strangled in prison (he obviously wasn’t beheaded), in 1593. We also have a woman and accusations of witchcraft as retaliation for the death of these noblemen. This in the midst of religious turmoil between Protestants and Catholics (with Balthasar Báthory being on the Protestant side).

This hypothesis checks a lot of boxes; the dates we have for Orlok (1580-1590s; late 16th century); the age Robert Eggers says he is, at the time of his death (55-years-old); offers an explanation for his “asmatic” speech, Eggers was very particular about (his vocal chords are damaged); and fits the prologue (where Orlok “strangles” Ellen, when he reveals himself).

This would also fit the "revenge on Christian civilization" subtext of Orlok as a plague carrier, bringing death and destruction to the Christian West. Them being separated because of a Christian conflict, and Orlok executed at the orders of a Catholic prince, would add layers of “dark trauma” to this.

Count Orlok bust by Prosthetics and Make-up designer, David White; his neck does appear damaged.

At the prologue, we also have a sexual encounter (masturbation), in a garden of lilacs. And at the end, lilacs are placed by Von Franz around their bodies, symboling their return to their garden. Which is another connection to Orlok’s human backstory, further strengthening the reincarnation theme.

The last shot of the film (while being “Death and the maiden” motif) is also reminiscent of the ending of “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” by Francis Ford Coppola, where Vlad soul ascends to join Elisabeta’s. In "Nosferatu" (2024) it's both, Orlok and Ellen's souls ascending, together, finally united, which makes way more sense with the reincarnation theme.

[ladykatibeth]

Not to pull out your tags, but I think this is an interesting thing to grapple with! There’s two major things from this perspective I often see and differ on is it’s an either/or perspective and a “only Ellen is feeling the effects of the “normal” social roles in the marriage” perspective.

Firstly I think that Thomas granted her something that Orlok couldn’t—open love and a sense of normalcy. Thomas being in the picture actively helped Ellen’s symptoms (that she expressed were painful and uncomfortable) lessen, and it’s notable that when he leaves these symptoms start to return. She is actively benefited by his presence (mainly as her emotional support). This does not mean she wasn’t also fulfilled by Orlok as well (in a you understand me/I understand you) way.

People need multiple things, and rarely can they get all their needs filled by a single person. It’s an unhealthy expectation. That doesn’t mean a relationship can’t work out that doesn’t include every need being fulfilled, just that you need many people in your life to meet needs. Anna supports Ellen when Thomas is having nightmares, for example. Ellen needs the open love Thomas provides, and she needs someone who can relate to her darkness and that’s okay. She can’t get both from a single person.

In terms of Thomas I don’t think he’s reacting ordinarily to what’s going on. Definitely not for his society, but also not generally. Most victorian men wouldn’t put their all into supporting their wives in their mental illness, or even marry someone with that sort of history attached to begin with.

They also mostly wouldn’t support their wife after she summoned a monster and then hold her through being possessed. I’m thinking most modern day spouses wouldn’t either ngl that man is devoted.

However I also think that Thomas’s hyper concern for filling his gender role, combined with the fact that the vampiric symbol of victorian repression fed on him in a scene mirroring the repression symbols feeding of Ellen, implies that Thomas isn’t really easily living up to these standards either (the why is up to interpretation, personally I think he’s bi).

The single provider social dynamic puts stress on him as well, especially as the expectation of men to not be weak keeps him from being able to connect with Ellen over their shared vampire trauma (something that would benefit them both.)

I also think that we need to be considering it in terms of a partnership if we want to have an anti-sexist reading. Thomas couldn’t save Ellen because she didn’t need saving. The emotional support Thomas provides is more important than heroics, and he succeeds at the former way more than the later.

They’re cutting the honeymoon short, meaning it’s likely they weren’t in a committed relationship as we would describe it (they would have been restricted to chaperoned dates and letters before being wed) until at most a couple months before this, so they didn’t really have an opportunity to work out any issues (an inevitable part of the relationship process, issues will naturally come up more once their lives conjoin).

Not very soon after they move in together, Thomas experiences trauma fairly similar to hers and gets some similar symptoms (nightmares) and some separate symptoms (she has seizures/sleepwalks/gets possessed, while he is physically messed up from the draining/jumping off a building/sprint to get home) putting them on equal footing in terms of needing support.

He didn’t “let her down” any more than she did him. She chose to keep him in the dark to sacrifice herself. She didn’t tell him about the evil vampire ex (fair given their society but still) he didn’t listen to her about the bad vibes of the business trip. Choices made all around.

Neither of them really talk about it though. By the end it isn’t just a woman failing to receive support through her trauma, it’s two traumatized people handling it in very different ways and making choices based in that. We don’t know if it would have worked out, because they never got the chance or time to even really try, and yet they still gave it their all anyway.

It’s kind of crazy to me that Thomas gets flak for trying to get to work on time, or taking a job assignment, despite his wife being worried about it. It’s not really greedy for a lower middle class man with debt and a wife to support (because societal expectations mean she can’t work) to care about not losing his job and it’s not greedy for him to want a slightly better paying job.

It’s also not a reflection of lack of intimacy/love/trust between Thomas and Ellen that he makes financial stability a priority.

Also that the flowers scene is a reflection of Thomas not understanding Ellen, because she says she’s upset about the flowers dying. She’s just had a dream that messed her up that had lilacs in it. It’s not about him getting her flowers it’s about him getting her lilacs after she just had a nightmare heavily featuring them combined with the stress over his upcoming trip. She’s upset about what the flowers represent (a bad omen and a result of him apologizing for leaving for the trip) not him getting her flowers.

[feybarn]

Hello! For the ship and kiss- Jangobi and a kiss out of jealousy/envy, please? Thank you <3

There was something beyond frustrating that it was this that made Jango jealous. He’d seen Obi-Wan flirt with untold number of people without so much of a twinge of jealousy, often more amused than anything else. He had dealt with Obi-Wan’s close relationships with Jango’s own clones with… all right, there had been some jealousy there, but Jango had worked through it before it had caused problems. He had gotten over the fact that Obi-Wan would never prioritize Jango, not really, not when his duty to the Republic and the Galaxy still existed.

And yet this.

Obi-Wan sat on the bridge of the deck meditating with Vos of all people and Jango… he was practically seething with jealousy.

Not that there was anything romantic about the situation. Obi-Wan considered Vos a good friend, trusted him beyond all doubt while simultaneously declaring him the most annoying man of his acquaintance.

And Obi-Wan shared a bond with him. A bond that Jango, as force sensitive as a particularly boring rock, could never share with Obi-Wan.

It had been one thing to deal with with Skywalker, but there was a parental element to that relationship that made it easy to deal with. And the other Jedi all seemed to have slight bonds, but Jango could deal with that as an organizational factor.

But Vos.

Obi-Wan had called it a pair bond. Jango hadn’t been particularly bothered. So, Obi-Wan had a psychic friend. And then Skywalker had gone on a rant about how he didn’t get why Obi-Wan would let Vos in so intimately and…

Well, that was about when Jango had started getting jealous.

Obi-Wan and Vos stirred on the deck of the ship and Jango startled. The two stood, talking to each other in low tones as they headed in his direction.

”—heading out tomorrow,” Vos said. “There’s some whispers in the outer rim about potential Sith involvement. Someone needs to check it out.”

“Be careful, Quin,” Obi-Wan said.

Vos smirked. “When am I ever?” He passed by Jango, turning his smirk on Jango for a moment in a way that looked all too knowing.

“Obi-Wan,” Jango interrupted. “We got some intel in. I thought we should take a look.”

Obi-Wan turned towards him. “Of course, priorities.” He looked at Quin. “Come see me before you leave,” Obi-Wan told him.

Vos sent a sloppy salute Obi-Wan’s direction before sauntering away.

Obi-Wan turned back to Jango. “All right, what do we—”

Jango leaned forward, tugging on Obi-Wan to manage a bruising kiss. Vos didn’t get to do this. Jango was the one who got to do this.

Obi-Wan sighed when he pulled back. ”Jango—“

“I know,” Jango said. “Just… Let me?”

Obi-Wan examined him. “Quinlan is dear to me.”

“I know,” Jango repeated. “I’ll work through it. But… but please, let me do this.”

A pause. Finally, Obi-Wan nodded. He leaned in, kissing Jango back. It was softer, gentler. “I love you, Jango Fett,” Obi-Wan told him. “Please… let that be enough.”

Jango would try.

[djarins-cyare]

Get to know your moots!

Thank you for the tag, @djarinmuse! I love these little questionnaires 😊. Challenging myself to be more succinct in my answers for once (yeeeah, don’t all hold your breath 😅)

What’s the origin of your blog title?

In a stunning lack of originality, I just used my writing pseudonym for my blog title: Jyar’ika. If it’s not obvious, that’s the Mando’a word cyar’ika (sweetheart) with a J for Jem replacing the C. It’s pronounced JAH-ree-kah, with emphasis on the first syllable (like Jessica or Erika). And on my sideblog, since it’s a rec blog, I’ve just titled it “Jyar’ika enjoyed…” because apparently WYSIWYG with me 🤗.

OTP(s) + shipname:

Oh man, there’ve been many over the years. I was an early X-Files fan, so MSR in real-time, of course. I shipped both Bangel and Spuffy at different points. Big on Polivia in the first few seasons of Fringe (when I discovered fanfiction existed). Fell completely down the fanfic rabbit hole with Carter/O’Neill from Stargate SG-1 (who unsatisfyingly never seemed to get a portmanteau ship name). Those are probably the main ones.

Favourite colour:

Teal; all shades thereof.

Favourite game:

It’s gotta be the old point n’ click PC games I played as a kid in the 90s, but I can’t pick one favourite. Big fan of the Monkey Island games, the Indiana Jones games, Maniac Mansion and Day of the Tentacle – basically anything LucasArts. Also, every game in the Broken Sword series, the Gabriel Knight series, and the Tex Murphy series. These are a fraction of the titles I played and loved.

Song stuck in your head:

I was doom-scrolling on Twitter the other day and saw (didn’t even hear!) a tweet saying Take That’s song ‘Shine’ was released 18 years ago, and it’s so iconic that my brain immediately played it to me. It’s been in there for days now! I was recently shocked and saddened to learn that most Americans don’t know about Take That 😱😭. I was never a massive fan or anything, but they are UK pop legends.

Weirdest habit/trait:

People at work think it’s weird that I don’t like speaking on the phone. If I have to have a phone call, I need to know what time it’ll be so I can prepare. But it’s because, without a visual of the other person, I find reading between the lines of neurotypical conversation more difficult. I can do it, but it’s an effort, and I need time to prepare for that kind of brain-taxing interaction.

Hobbies:

The Mandalorian, duh. Writing fics about it, mainly.

If you work, what’s your profession?

I’m in criminal law, basically doing the lawyers’ jobs for them because I have a critical eye for detail and can catch stuff they miss when preparing cases. But I never did my LPC, so I don’t have to go to court and do all the scary legal argument stuff. Win.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

Author of a well-loved fiction series. I aim to make this happen one day, though at the rate I’m going, I’ll probably be retired when it finally happens! It comforts me to know that Douglas Adams always found writing to be a slow and arduous process, too.

Something you’re good at:

The English language, I guess. I have a good understanding of the technical side of writing.

Something you’re bad at:

In contrast to the above, the poetry of writing. I often struggle to ensure my writing is sufficiently dynamic and beautiful, and I have to go over things many times to try and inject more soul into my words. I’m glad I’m aware of this weakness, though – every day’s a school day, and there’s plenty of time and space to improve.

Something you love:

The Mandalorian, duh. Specifically Din Djarin.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

The Mandalorian, duh. Specifically Din Djarin.

Something you hate:

I try not to hate; this world needs more love. And if I can’t avoid hating, I do it quietly and won’t share it. So, I’ll pass on this question, thanks.

Something you collect:

Words. I love learning new ones. I love learning additional definitions and nuances of ones I already know. I can never have enough words.

Something you forget:

The time. Seriously, I have no sense of time whatsoever and am late for everything. I’ve just looked at the clock and realised it’s coming up 6:00am, and I haven’t gone to bed yet because I didn’t realise how late it is.

What’s your love language?

Of the five, mine is definitely the ‘acts of service’ one. I show love by trying to ease the burdens of others, and I feel loved when people do the same for me. At the other end of the scale is the ‘receiving gifts’ one… I can’t pick out gifts to save my life, and I always feel awkward receiving a gift I haven’t asked for and don’t need. Gifts are almost a hate language for me!

Favourite movie/show:

The Mandalorian, duh.

Favourite food:

I’m gonna say pizza. I don’t get to have it much anymore because I’m eating healthier these days, but I still indulge in the occasional Domino’s order.

Favourite animal:

Can I say Din Djarin when he’s been dosed with sex pollen? 😏

Are you musical?

I guess this is a yes because I’ve played a variety of musical instruments since the age of 5 (starting with the humble recorder, then violin, piano, guitar and other random stuff like the harmonica and ukulele) and was in choirs for the whole of my childhood and adolescence. I performed in several big shows, including a performance at the Royal Albert Hall of Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana (even if you don’t know the name, you’ll likely know one particular movement of the cantata; it’s been overused in ads, etc). But it’s been years since I played or sang anything, so maybe notsomuch anymore.

What were you like as a child?

As a very young child: unknowingly autistic. This mainly manifested in me ruining family vacations by refusing to step foot on a beach if there was any sign of seaweed, or enter a restaurant with ceiling fans, or get in a swimming pool if there was a mosaic on the pool floor. Anything outside my regular routine was terrifying to me, but nobody knew about autism in the 80s, so my parents just thought I was overly sensitive. I learned how to mask pretty early, though, so by the time I went to school, I’d figured out how to fit in. Despite that, I was always the kid who had intense hyperfixations (boys, TV shows, bands, hobbies). I still am, really!

Favourite subject at school?

English literature. Fiction was (and still is) my happy place. I also had a massive crush on my maths teacher when I was 13-14, so I was a maths nerd for a whole year. I still remember the quadratic equation!

Least favourite subject?

Religious education. It was the one subject I failed my exams in, mainly because I’m an atheist, and as a kid, I couldn’t see the point of learning about something I didn’t believe in. Later, I realised that exploring different worldviews helps us better understand ourselves and how to respect and appreciate diversity, so as an adult, I’ve made an effort to make up for my childish ignorance by learning as much as possible.

What’s your best character trait?

My autism. It heightens my attention to detail and makes me especially concerned about others’ happiness and well-being.

What’s your worst character trait?

My autism. It frustrates neurotypicals who don’t understand why I act or respond in particular ways.

If you could change any detail of your day right now, what would it be?

I would’ve gone to bed earlier. It’s 6:31am, and I’m tired.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

I’m not interested in going backwards, so nobody really. I’d probably go forward simply to check that the world didn’t end and that the USA didn’t turn into the Free American Independent Theocratic Hegemony (F.A.I.T.H.) or anything. (That’s a Bobiverse reference for anyone who’s never read Dennis E. Taylor… which, TBF, is probably most of you since his novels are pretty niche. I recommend reading them, though – super fun and packed with geeky pop culture references).

Recommend one of your favourite fanfics (spread the love!):

I finally got around to reading You Were Marked by @handspunyarns last week, and let me tell you, I could not stop binging it. It’s been a long time since I was last addicted to a fic to this degree. I’d had it on my TBR list for a while, but I’d prioritised others because I wasn’t sure if it would resonate with me since I don’t see any of myself in the main character… but boy, was I wrong! It’s extraordinary, compelling, and at times heartbreaking and agonising, but so well-written with exquisite worldbuilding and a daringly original plot, all of which seared it into my mind forever because I’ve never read anything like it. I implore you all to try it if you haven’t already. It’s a masterpiece 💜.

I usually check to see if the people I tag have already done the game, but I’ve really gotta sleep, so I’m just gonna tag at random here. I’m really sorry if any of you have done this already.

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @cw80831 @darthbeebles @desert-fern

@dindenimchicken @frickatives @here-briefly @ishabull @jessthebaker

@lilac-boo @mosssbawls @nervoushottee @papurgaatika @qunariagenda

@roughdaysandart @the-color-is-black @the-mandawhor1an @toomanytookas @zaddymandalorian

[demonixoverlord]

dunno if im late or nuthin but this took me a couple weeks to do cough @quartztwst for the uhhh... *flips through papers* .. no yandere au yeaahhh (i might do myself / my yuusona as well, im debating it haha)

magic level ^^^ he's pretty good in general, with his strongest being more.. phenomenon ish? (ref: this post ig) he'd probably be a rival, only due to the fact that he tolerates Azul and doesn't condone murder lol (might change? idk)

Q/A questions under cut

Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

He lives with his parents in a pretty nice house near where his parents work (aka S.T.Y.X cough) and tends to walk with Idia to school (most likely forcibly lol)

What are their thoughts on Quartz? He finds her interesting, although a bit sceptical because he can tell somethings fishy with how she talks about Azul and acts around him. He does try to see if she's doing alright on occasion, worried if she's masking due to personal issues, issues at home, etc.

What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Macarius is positively neutral about Azul, admiring him for his status but also judgemental about his tactics. Since Macarius tends to help Idia a lot or just stay nearby for social support (we all need someone to speak for the introverts lol) he met Azul at the end of one of the council meetings, and again at clubs. Due to seeing Azul often at clubs, he's gotten to know him slightly better.

Your OC stumbles upon a dead body a few feet outside of the school. Do they report it? Immediately. He first of all wants justice for the victim, but he also doesn't want the enviroment nearby to smell of rot. (lol)

Why does your OC like their crush?

Growing up knowing Idia from their parents working together, he grew closer to Idia and admired him for his skill. Aside from that, Macarius slowly came to the realization that he likes boys as well, more specifically Idia. Of course he doesn't entirely know why or how, especially due to his ex-girlfriend pretty much ruining his expectations of relationships, but he's coping through it.

Since reputation and popularity are kind of different, is your OC popular in and outside of school?

He's pretty neutral standing outside of school, being known for his community garden attempts (he's probably still trying lol). In school however? He somehow became the person lots of first years come to, and has been told he's attractive (he, of course, doesn't believe these often haha)

How social is your OC? Do they stray away from crowds? Macarius doesn't exactly hate crowds, but he wouldn't choose to be in a large one (events being exceptions) since lots of people tend to overwhelm him (and Idia, who he's more worried about :P)

Which TWST character does your OC believe should have more admirers than Azul? He's actually surprised by the amount Azul has, considering Vil also has an admirer hoard, but he isn't complaining since he's happy for Azul in some way. However, Macarius is glad there isn't too many after Idia, considering it'd probably overwhelm him and he'd have to force him to leave his house haha

What are their relationships with other characters/OCs? Shin ( @liyuviq ): "Clever. I admire their persistence. Not everything is a case, however." Macarius likes to consider being their friend, however he doesn't exactly want to push anything, so he doesn't say much about it haha Shuu ( @oya-oya-okay) "Surprisngly sweet. Her hair reminds me of orange lillies." He finds her entertaining, and admires her kindness. He hasn't talked to her as much unless its in passing periods or in their shared class(es) so he makes the effort to try checking in on her from time to time just to be polite. To new / first years, some consider him to be a big brother to them, showing them their classes and helping them navigate the school until they have the hang of it. What grade/year is your OC? 3rd year (18), same as Idia. (he's only a few months older than Idia) Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this? He doesn't at first, thinking he was seeing things. After a few more times, he quietly told Riddle about it, unsure if he wanted to go as far as school officals yet. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz? Macarius would be probably very surprised and hurt, but still respectful about telling others that it wasn't him. Unless he knew more, he wouldn't have much of a hunch on Quartz without infomation.

What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life? He wants to start a school community garden, using technology to help the advancement of plants and agriculture without harming them.

Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch? Macarius is normally with Idia during passing periods or classes they share, as well as lunch. However, he occasionally tutors at lunch (which makes Idia nervous since he sits with him haha) or examines the school's yard(s) in an attempt to plan out a future garden somewhere.

How are your OC's grades? Almost always A's or B's, with the occasional C if he's confused on a subject. (such as English)

Which elimination tactic is preferred to use on them? *shrug* What are your OC's weaknesses? Are they easily manipulated? Easily overpowered by? He's only easily manipulated if he's close to them, especially relationship wise (i.e. his exgf) which is why he tries to keep some people at arms length. For weaknesses, he's pretty neutral on most unless its about Idia (cough very protective cough) or needles (he doesn't enjoy them haha)

Any drama, traumatic story for your OC in the AU? i mean, eh? you can check his lore page if you wanna take that and mush it with this I dunno

[whysoblue2]

This is a beautiful submission from @sw124! thank you so much it made me laugh and the characterization of my sweet Kallamar was amazing! Enjoy people! ---------------- So this was something i had to write, I have a fursona/bugsona I also incorporated into the Cotl series and just couldn’t help imagining these two. For those who aren’t aware my oc is Ace [ageosexual] and panromantic

[Title: Tea and gossip]

It was just about that time, Kallamar was already loving this new little routine! Ever since he got this new assistant life had been so much easier, but that wasn’t the only thing. This assistant turned out to be a great blessing! She was patient, fluent in sign, had a grasp of basic medicine and then some, she mostly dealt with simple cases.

Mamu, a mixed breed insect, from what Kallamar could gather, she had to be a cross between a honey bee and moth for sure. Well the ‘honey bee’ part was confirmed after receiving a jar of honey as a gift from her. However…Kallamar noticed that her honey looked like one poured the night sky into jars, the taste always varied as did the colors. Sometimes the color was a deep royal tone other times bright with flecks of pollen stars. The taste was beautifully complex, the sweetness could be lighter than air or as strong as a well made scotch.

But the one thing that drew Kallamar to her…was the most surprising aspect of her, she was one of the absolute rare few who had no desire to well…invite him to the mating tent. She had no interest in sex, despite joking, commenting and gossiping about it..it seemed she rather do just that. The act itself often turned her away but talking about it was fine. That alone was got Kallamar’s attention, sure a casual fling now and then was nice but to have someone to gossip with no other motive than to talk…well that was rare. Kallamar had already prepared the tea when he felt a faint presence. Call it intuition when he opened the door…and there stood the lady in question.

“Mamu! Do come in my dear!”

“Hello Kall! I brought some fresh honey and scones! Along with some juicy gossip!”

She has four arms which Kallamar took note of the first time they met, even more so when she used her second pair of arms to sign while talking. The two wasted no time getting down to what they came to do…gossip!

“So my little honey drop, have you plucked any juicy fruit from the vine today?” Kallamar asked, taking a slow sip of his tea. “Well…depends on whatcha want to hear, gossip about your siblings or the other followers?”

Well that got his attention. “..About my siblings?”

Mamu smirked. “It’s about Narinder and the Lamb, it’s probably wishful thinking from some followers but many are whispering about seeing the Lamb and Narinder near the mating tent recently….”

Kallamar leaned in staring at her hands and face together….this couldn’t be true! “Yes…they caught two young teens trying to sneak in there to make a little ‘Whoopi’ if ya know what I mean!” Mamu gave a little titter, yep..there it was, Mamu’s rug pull.

Leaning back, Kallamar made the same motion. One pair of hands using the ‘shame on you’ gesture while his other arms were crossed, smirking as he turned his head but cracked an eye open at her. She was giggling behind her hand, peeking a glance at him. He let out a soft chuff before pouring a cup of tea for her. “But be serious my dear, did that happen?”

“Yes, I saw it happen. Poor Narinder, last time I saw him that red in the face was the time I called him a-“ Mamu’s hands flew up to her mouth, Kallamar blinked.

“Called him what?”

Her hands pressed down into her lap, her milky cream cheeks turning a light shade of cherry pink. Eyes darting to look at something other then Kallamar, well to the squid that said a lot. Her eyes were darting up not down, hands in her lap rather then plucking at each other like angry birds, lips curled in like she sucked on something mildly sour. Ooh this was something, Kallamar felt his own lips curl into a devious smirk. Now times like this he’d turn on his charm and seduce the information out, however with Mamu that never worked. So he had to develop a new technique tailored just for her…and so he deployed it.

He leaned forward, closes his eyes, curled his lips into a button smile and opened his eyes wide and began to bat them. The moment she turned to look at him…it took a bit of will power not go break the look. Mamu’s eyes lighting up with little hearts as she tried to turn away, nope, Kallamar had one tentacle under her chin in just a second, with very little effort to guid it back to look at him. Ooh she tried so hard to look away but his tentacle and gaze had her locked. It just took a minute before she finally broke, waving two of her hands.

“Okay! Okay I’ll tell you!” Ah, it never failed. Kallamar sat back, his old demenor returning. Mamu pursed her lips in a pout. “You are mean Kallamar!”

She signed while huffing, no real anger behind it. Kallamar simply tilted his head side to side before leaning forward. “So, what did you say to my brother?”

The pink in her cheeks grew a shade darker, she let out a breath and held up her hands. “This happened before you arrived, Narinder was still a bit aloof when around others. I kept my distance out of respect but when he started snapping at other followers I confronted him. Told him he shouldn’t be so cross with others just because he’s new, we got into an argument. The Lamb had to come and separate us cause it almost got physical…well by physical he was close to pushing..anyway the Lamb was escorting him away and he shouted at me that I was some lowly worker bee. My anger got the better of me and I….” Oh her cheeks were now a lovely shade of apple, Kallamar leaned in more, beckoning her to finish her story.

She hesitated before signing. “…I shouted…’At least I’m not a pussy’….”

There was a moment of stillness, did Kallamar read that right…did Mamu, little sweet as honey Mamu call his brother Narinder a pussy. The flood gates opened Kallamar began laughing, that couldn’t be true but the look on Mamu’s face said everything.

“You! My darling honey drop, you of all people called him that?!”

“Oh Kallamar it’s embarrassing enough! Honestly you’re acting just like the Lamb did…”

…Kallamar blinked, eyes lighting up. “The Lamb laughed at that?!”

An now Mamu’s face was hidden behind her hands, Kallamar pulled them away, trying his best to control the giggles bubbling up from his throat. “N-now my dear no need to be ashamed, honestly my sister Heket can be fare more poisonous with her words when crossed. Compared to her thats like…a child using a non-curse word!”

Mamu pouted again. “Still was the most embarrassing moment for me…and for Narinder too, the Lamb laughing like that.”

“Oh pshaw my dear, I doubt Narinder would be that upset about. But my goodness to have the nerve to yell that at him is impressive!”

Well that got Mamu to smile, the color returning to that love light cherry pink instead of that deep apple. A little ‘boop’ to her nose and she was back to giggling, oh Kallamar enjoyed this assistant!

But what he enjoyed more was that Leshy and Heket seemed to like his new friend! Since she knew sign it made talking to Heket easy, she was also close friends to Tharen so it made getting to know Leshy easy, that and both being insects gave them common ground, however that begged the question…….

How would Shamura react to her?

End.

Hope you enjoy this blue!