#IT'S 5 AM AND I'M FREE

[shooks-stupid-stuff]

Re:Shook’s Weekly OCs: #004

Jacian Von Rittedel (Modern Vers.)

definitely haven't been putting off writing this post because I know it's gonna be a long one

Ahem. Anyways. Were I making this post like, 3 years ago, then I could confidently say that this glorious goofy man needs no introduction.

However I haven't really done anything with him in a LONG ass time, and he and Taiana have been overthrown as my most well known OCs (probably) by the other blue-and-blonde-haired-duo that I've become completely obsessed with, so. There's no escaping it.

This is gonna be a LONG ass post, only saved by the fact that technically this is an AU version so I can skip some stuff and save it for later, haha.

...But also kinda not. Anyways I should stop dragging my feet and just start huh-

Also, this is the fist of these with trigger warning! So, minor self harm/attempted s*icide tw; I'm not gonna do anything more than just briefly mention The Thing That Happened, but y'know. Better safe than sorry and all that.

So, Jacian is a character made intentionally to be a parody of the Camus archetype from hit game series Fire Emblem, because he was initially made for a FE fangame idea I had (which has since then just become it's own thing, and my pipedream video game that I would like to make some day but probably never will). He can be boiled down to being a charismatic and overly dramatic knight who values loyalty to his lord above all else, and refuses to fight anything but fair duels 99% of the time. This version of him specifically is just one I made so that I could use him in my other OC stuff, since y'know. It's kinda hard to just plop a Ye Olde Times guy into the modern day without adapting him a bit lol.

That said, a lot about him is still the same; even the way he talks (bro does NOT know what a contraction is), and dresses, and he's still a knight because like. What right do I have to take that away from him, look at him he was BORN to be one. He's generally a very sociable and likeable guy, and despite being a certified oddball with the whole noble-knight schtick, he has an undeniable charm that typically wins over most people who meet him. In other words, bro has a maxxed out charisma stat. That isn't to say he's incapable of being serious though, he very much is, but he really only drops his usual charm when things actually get serious, and becomes more reserved as time goes on.

That said, this version of Jacian specifically is also from further along story-wise than the normal/base version of him (those who know now probably get why that tw is there (assuming they didn't before. they probably did)), so it's prrrrobably gonna be easier to just run through his whole background/backstory than to effectively explain basically two different characters just to show how he's different? (which like. base Jacian is getting his own post at some point anyways so i can just go into detail about how he is at that point of his character development there anyways)

So, Jacian always had wanted to be a knight. Like, ever since he was a kid. Even though it's like. Modern day. Specifically, he wanted to be someone's 'evil' rival, with his definition of evil being solely shaped by goofy, non-threatening antagonists from Saturday morning cartoons. You know the type, causing Mild Inconvenience at worst and all that stuff. Unrealistic as it may be though, he was determined, and stuck with the whole bit through most of his childhood (up until around middle school). Around that time though, his world view started to shift a bit; he both was just naturally maturing, and at the same time having to deal with the sudden loss of his father, who had always been the one most willing to indulge his fantasies, going as far as to actually teach Jacian to use a sword (he's a whole other can of worms i could get into, but he'll probably get his own post some day so. I'm gonna refrain from going more into his whole deal so that this doesn't become even more of a barely comprehensible stream-of-consciousness ramble than it already is lol), as well as his mother getting incredibly sick shortly after (she had to leave the country to get the medical treatment she needed, and would end up passing away years later). However, rather than the reasonable outcome of him just dropping the whole knight thing altogether coming to pass, he instead doubles down, just with a much more serious attitude about the whole thing. He's still definitely a goof, but now he's a lot more thoughtful and mature about the whole thing (which has the unintentional effect of him becoming actually really well liked by his peers, instead of being seen as a weirdo). Fast forward a few years (again, glazing over some stuff for the sake of keeping this coherent, and also because I don't have all of the details smoothed out yet since this whole version is kinda a square peg in circle hole type situation), and he is both A. somehow actually working as a knight, for a man I am NOT getting into here because it is, again, a WHOLE other thing that's best to be explained in a different character's post (if he comes up again in this post, which. he definitely will. I'll just be referring to him as 'his (Jacian's) lord', since that's what Jacian calls him because he's just. Like That.) and B. has actually become someone's antagonistic rival; with that person being his 'Eternal Rival', Taiana (you'll hear more about her next week, but the long and short of it is that she's the blue-haired lord to his Camus archetype. ...For anyone who doesn't know jack shit about FE, she's the protagonist of the thing they're both from). And though he's only fighting her because he has been ordered to, (again, a story for later) he very much enjoys having someone who both takes him seriously, and is an even match for him swordplay-wise. Which is to say every duel that they have ends in a draw, which then motivates them both to train even more, and then the whole thing repeats. The two of them do end up becoming quite close though, with Jacian even developing feelings for her, which he is not very good at hiding, to say the least (Taiana is, however, a social brick wall so she doesn't realize At All despite that) and which only serves to further complicate things when Jacian receives the order to either kill her, or die trying.

Just real quick side note here - I swear this all makes a lot more logical sense in these two's original setting, however pigeon-holing plots into places that they have no write being is kinda just what I have to do sometimes to make characters work in alternate settings (because I can't just. change the plot, no that would make too much sense) so like. Just suspend your disbelief or whatever, or if you wanna see this shit in context feel free to go dig up my old OC ask blog (no I will not link it here, it's embarrassing) and read through the whole saga there (because yes, this is the SECOND time I'm adapting these two to a modern setting). It's definitely a bit rough, but like. It's also kind of peak I wrote like 20 pages and made a lot of people mad at me it was awesome (still not as good as the William stuff though, that was genuinely the peak of my comedic writing and the only overarching plot I did there that didn't lose steam and fall apart at the end).

Anyways back to the two 17 year olds dueling to the death.

Naturally, this... Doesn't end well. It doesn't really matter who wins, because either way the outcome is the same: Neither of them are willing to kill the other, and both would rather sacrifice themselves for the others sake. Despite being, well - rivals, they honestly understand each other perfectly and care a LOT about each other. And so once the duel ends, and the inevitable comes, Jacian chooses to try and take his own life via stabbing himself through the chest with his rapier rather than kill Taiana or force her to kill him herself.

Now, he doesn't die (though the how + why of that makes more sense to be explained in Taiana's post, so lookf forward to(?) that next week) but that doesn't necessarily mean things are great now either. Not only is he now dealing with the inner conflict resulting from him pretty much breaking his own code of honor and loyalty, but there's also now the bigger issue of needing to deal with/take down his lord, which is again. A Whole Thing I'm not gonna get into here. Just know that the situation is a lot more complex than either he or Taiana realizes, and that they have a big fight that then leads to all three of them pretty much going missing for a year, and most people assuming that they're dead (Jacian and Taiana aren't but his lord definitely is (they did not kill him, some other shit happened, It's Complicated).

And now, we finally get to the point that this version of Jacian is at, having finally come back from wherever the hell the two of them had been and acting as if nothing had ever happened! Though he definitely has become noticeably more reserved and less bombastic, only really going full ham when him and Taiana are goofing off and/or dueling (because yes they still do that, they are Eternal rivals after all, and just because they're dating now doesn't mean that that has changed. Oh yeah they finally got together, and it changed literally nothing about their dynamic.)

He takes his swordplay very seriously, and has two primary weapons; his trusty rapier, which is just. A standard rapier, he has it on him pretty much almost always, and his big-ass fuck-off great sword that has been passed down through his family for generations, and that may or may not have been blessed by/contain the power of a God of Lightning. (regardless of if it does or doesn't, it sure does have lightning powers regardless. And also since there's not really a better place to put this, Jacian is completely immune to electricity. ...He's still scared of thunderstorms, though. Though he's mostly gotten over that fear at the point of development that this version of him is at. Mostly.) He also usually wields it with one hand, which is impressive because again. It is Stupidly Big, but also he's just that cool. I mean come on, look at the doodle of him holding it (in the wrong hand because, even though I made sure to position his rapier on his design in a way that would make sense for him to unsheathe it with his right hand (despite it definitely being easier to just draw it on the other side so that most of it would be covered) I somehow then immediately forgot that he was right handed while drawing the doodle. Just. Pretend he's kinda ambidextrous or something (he actually kinda is) idk I'm just kinda stupid sometimes). He's so cool.

Aside from his friendship/rivalry/enemies-to-lovers with Taiana, he has quite a good number of other close friends (nearly all of which have been better adapted to the setting than him, because yes, they are ALSO all from the former fire emblem fangame, and a majority of them form his Squad in that universe. However the modern versions of them are honestly the main/base ones, so that checks out tbh. for them at least.) The 'main' four are Merridith, Chiuji, Kaitso and Kyō, all of whom, drumroll please, will get their own posts at some point, and all of whom get along with each other to degrees varying from besties (Merridith + Chiuji/Kaitso + Kyō) to actively beefing (Merridith + Kyō, though it's really just Merridith). There's also Gabbrielli, who is childhood friends with both Jacian and Taiana, and also may or may not be a actual prince. Allegedly. He has his own shit going on, only some of which is related to the Jacian and Taiana shit.

Design wise, I was going for basically 'Older, cooler Jacian' and to me that meant coat draped over shoulders like a cape - which actually worked super well, because he usually has a red cape, and I usually make the inside of his jacket red. Other than that, it's kinda a mish-mash of elements from other Jacian designs that I thought worked + the same boots he always has, but the soles are white now wowee; and of course, his signature flower, white lilies. Which fit him both aesthetically AND symbolically :] Oh, and I forgot to mention this earlier, but he goes by the moniker of 'White Lily Knight' because of course he does.

There is almost certainly more, I could say probably, but. I think this is MORE than enough for now, lmao.

...And i get to write just as much if not more for Taiana next week. Fun :']

Anyways. Yeah that's about it, I like Jacian a lot, he's just a goofy guy who also manages to be charming and cool, despite being a total dweebus. Probably (definitely) in my top 10 OCs :]

[intheorangebedroom]

The corner deli

Summary: You take a night trip to the corner deli and meet this handsome guy, but shit turns out weird.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

A/N:  This is what happens when I can't sleep. Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡

Word count: 1.8k

The corner deli

And here you are, another Friday night on your own, reading a book you can barely focus on, scrolling mindlessly in between chapters, slouched in your couch and feeling sorry for yourself. Those stupid, evil thoughts starting to whisper some nasty shit in the back of your mind, and you’re letting it happen. 

It’s on you, though, because some of your coworkers, the younger ones, offered you to go out with them but you said no. You’re too much of an introvert, but not enough that you don’t feel miserable now, sitting here alone while the city’s buoyant life unfolds without you behind your closed windows. What difference does it make, anyway. It goes on, whether you decide to join or not. No one misses you, so there.

Fuck it. Tonight, you’re gonna eat your feelings. You slip on your jeans and your shoes and go out to the deli on the corner, it’s open all night. You’ll get some Pringles or ice cream, whatever comes first. 

You’re walking down an aisle, hesitating between two flavors of Chex Mix, when you catch sight of THE most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

He’s tall. And so fucking broad. His denim shirt is working hard containing the breadth of his solid shoulders, his jeans are tight on his thighs. He’s got a scruffy, patchy beard and strands of brown hair curling at his ears underneath his trucker hat. He’s all sharp profile, solid features, plush lips, oh! his lips are just… generous, and his eyes… god his eyes are dark, deep and soulful. Wait, did you just use the word soulful? Well, he’s that fucking handsome. There’s a stern crease splitting his brow, but it’s tempered by the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the kind you get from laughing often. 

You look down at yourself and… fuck. Your mascara has run off because yeah, maybe you cried a little, earlier. Your hair is dirty, pulled together in a messy bun that looks nothing like those supposedly effortless hairdos thrown at you in Instagram reels. The ones that make you feel unworthy of the air you’re breathing. You're wearing a dirty pair of 501 with your pajama shirt tucked in, there’s no way you're getting anywhere near him, even if you had any self-confidence to boot. 

You walk over to the back of the store. Not that it’s a good hiding spot, it’s just where the fridges are. And of course, they’re out of the one ice cream flavor you like. Wow. It really ain’t your day, is it? Craning your neck to scan the empty top shelf, you spot the very last Netflix and Chill’d all the way to the back. Opening the door, you stand on tiptoes, fingers scrambling over the icy shelf to grab it, but you can’t reach that high. 

That’s when you feel him. His chest barely brushing at your back. You get a whiff of his scent and you swallow a gasp. He smells like leather and warm skin and laundry and you can’t even move anymore, you just stand there like a Roman statue in a museum, with one arm up. Your gaze follows his arm as it extends toward the shelf, reaching it with ease. As his large hand grabs the last tub, the whole sequence of movements completely effortless and well, graceful.  

He takes a step away from you, and your body’s responding again. Your heels meet the ground, and you turn to face him. There’s the promise of a smile curling his lips, fuck he is stupidly handsome, Jesus fucking Christ, are you still breathing? He hands you the tub and all you can think of is how thick his fingers look around it, and how they would feel buried inside you, or wrapped around your throat, and… oh wow. That escalated quickly. 

You swallow hard, blinking the filthy thoughts away. There’s something in the way he looks at you, a glimmer in his eyes. You feel… warm. He flexes his jaw to the side, he’s smiling at you, still holding that goddamn ice cream, you gotta say or do something, but your body has bailed on you, yet again.

Eventually, you take the cold tub, careful not to touch his fingers. But he’s not letting go. Your breathing turns shallow, you can barely hold his gaze. Why does he keep looking at you with those soft brown eyes, why is he smiling like that? He can’t possibly be… what? Interested in you? No one can. No one ever is. That’s why you’re in this deli, alone, in the middle of the night, wearing last week's dirty laundry. 

Oh. Of course. He’s waiting for you to thank him. Jesus you’re stupid.

“Thanks. You. I mean, thank you.” Oh, great, that went well. 

There’s a beat before he releases his grip and lets go of the tub. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, and of course, his voice is velvet. Round and husky and low. 

There’s an easy confidence about him, like quiet assertiveness, is that a thing? Like he knows his worth, but he doesn’t need to step all over people’s toes to show it. 

You’re raking your brain for some smart quip you know will come to you tomorrow morning in the shower, when you hear a commotion at the cashier. Somebody’s shouting orders, a dude holding up something in his hand, pointing it at the employee behind the plexiglass. Holding a fucking handgun, Jesus fuck the place is getting robbed.

Your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. There’s pressure around your elbow and you’re yanked down onto the dirty tiles. 

The man in the trucker hat is crouching next to you. He holds his index finger pressed to his lips. His face looks different, his jaw tensed, a deep frown darkening his face. His eyes are pitch black, is it even the same man? A minute ago, he looked like the friendly next-door neighbor you’re daydreaming about fucking in the basement laundry room, and now he looks like someone who’s about to shoot you in the face.  

“Be quiet,” he mouthes under the noises coming from the front of the store, “stay here, everything’s gonna be ok.”

You don’t want him to leave you here on your own, no matter how threatening he looks, but he’s already moving toward the front and anyway, it’s not like you can move.  

Shouldn’t you call 911? He told you to be quiet, what the hell are you supposed to do?

It all happens so fast, and you’re so scared. You’ve never been this scared in your entire life. You hear a thud, followed by a gunshot. You clasp your hand to your mouth, you’re sure you’re gonna die. You hear the sounds of a struggle, a loud, piercing yelp, and another, louder thud. There are a few more noises, fabrics rustling, muffled groans and nothing. Deafening silence. 

You can’t feel your legs and your heart is beating in your throat when you finally hear him, the guy in the trucker hat. His voice is firm and his tone commanding as he addresses the deli employee. 

“Hey, hey look at me, you’re ok. Can you call 911? Hey! Call 911. You’re ok.”

Your legs won’t carry you. You have to crawl to the front of the store on your hands and knees, and your eyes grow wide at the scene you find there. A tall, young man with a shaved head is lying on the floor, wrists in a zip tie, he’s passed out, or dead, you’re not sure and you don’t wanna know. And anyway, you don’t have time to see more. He’s here, in front of you, the guy in the trucker hat, blocking the view with his massive silhouette, helping you get up and walking you outside. 

“You ok?” he asks you. 

He’s got one hand in the small of your back, the other one is gripping your arm. They’re warm, and that’s how you register how cold you are. In fact, you’re shivering in the warm city night, teeth chattering and all. 

“It’s over, I got you,” he says, cupping your face and you look up at him, nodding, mumbling, “I’m ok, yeah, I’m ok,” trying to focus on his warmth radiating through your cheeks. 

When they arrive, the cops instruct you to stay to make a deposition. Uncomfortable doesn’t cut it to describe your state of mind throughout the entire process, but he stands near you the whole time, his shoulder against yours, and you don’t think you could stand straight without it. 

Eventually, the place clears up. The perp came to, they handcuffed him and took him away. As he passed near you, you saw a purple bruise blooming on his neck. 

You’re told you’re free to go, and there’s really no reason for you to stay. 

Except there is. 

“So um… you’re a cop, or something?” you ask, looking intently at the fascinating tip of your Van’s, bumping against the curb. 

He shakes his head. 

“No. US Air Force. I’m a pilot.”

Your head shoots up, mouth falling open into a silent oh. 

His smile is so fucking soft you want to kick the curb and break all your toes. 

“Well, thank you, anyway. That was really scary. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Now, there really isn’t any reason for you to linger. But he’s not moving, standing tall and broad and solid before you, hands propped on his hips, with that easy confidence about him. And that thing happens again, that thing where he looks at you with those gentle brown eyes and that promise of a smile, and you feel like you’re the center of the goddamn universe. 

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, offering you his hand. 

From all the scary shits that went down tonight, this one has got to be the scariest, by far, because you know that if you take his hand, you’re not gonna let go. 

You hear your name coming out of your mouth, and it’s too late. You’re done for. Your small hand slides into his larger one, and he gives it a strong squeeze. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to tell you everything you need to know. 

And he’s not letting go. And you’re not letting go. You expect fucking fireworks, at this point, but it’s just… right. Like you don’t have to be scared. Like you don’t have to torture yourself anymore with mean-ass questions about how to behave or what to say next. Like you can simply be you, and it’ll be enough. 

“So,” he starts, and he’s downright grinning now, a dimpled smile that lights up his entire face, “d’you think we can consider this as our first date?”

****

Part 2

[pickles4nickles]

You Wanna Fight Manifestations of the Human Psyche With Me After Class? is an Akeshu comic collection zine that spans a little bit of the canon timeline from Persona 5 Royal and Strikers, but mostly post-canon "What if the Metaverse came back" stuff that also has domestic-ish vibes.

HERE IT IS, FOLKS. The not-so secret project that I meant to only work on for six to eight months, but with the way life be, this ended up taking me a whole year to finish. This zine has over 90 pages of comics and over 60 of those pages are either cleaned up doodle comics or brand-new stories that I haven't posted anywhere before.

You can grab the PDF from my itchio or ko-fi!

📕 https://pickles4nickles.itch.io/you-wanna-fight-manifestations-of-the-human-psyche-with-me-after-class

☕ https://ko-fi.com/s/9a316d1f83

[mazken]

brush test slash rendering practice with ayem

[walkingstackofbooks]

Tag game! What are 5 Julian things you can't write enough of?

Fidgeting with his hands so anxiously that he's scratching or hurting himself, and one of his friends noticing and holding his hands gently to stop him.

Falling asleep on a friend after he's had Too Many Emotions (and getting hair kisses from them ofc :3 )

Fear and hurt and distress working its way out of him in a burst of uncontrollable anger - and then suddenly stopping as he realises he's lost control, and either turning completely slack, or getting panicky about what just happened.

Feeling a lot, but not understanding what he's feeling enough to explain it to anyone else. (And dissociating when it becomes Far Too Much to even try to figure it out.)

Fumbling around the subject but completely avoiding the point until one of his friends figures out what he's trying to say/ asks him a direct enough question that he can't put off saying it any longer.

Tagging @dreamerdrop @ectogeo-rebubbles @the-last-dillpickle @hellostuffedtiger @idonotbitemythumbatyou @lady-lazarus-13 — if you'd like to make your own posts, I'd love to know what your favourite "personal tropes'', as it were, are 🥰 And if anyone else wants to join in, you're very much invited, please count yourself as tagged!

[chunkofchange]

i've been practicing something called "doing what i want"

[lonepower]

(did someone say "random orphaned dialogue snippet that won't go anywhere"? ...no? ................ too bad.)

"How'd you pick ‘ND-5,’ anyway? It's just a random chunk out of the middle of your serial, right?"

"That is correct."

"So why that bit? Was it even your idea?"

He glances briefly up at her askance, then looks back to the pieces of his blaster, laid out neatly on the workbench next to her. "What do you think?" The sharpness in his tone tells her all she needs to know.

"Right..." she says, chewing her lip. Like literally everything else about ND's past, thinking too hard about it kinda makes her want to cry, or kick something, or both. Preferably both. "Well, would you ever want a new one? Something you came up with for yourself, now that you can?"

ND replies without a second's hesitation. "No."

It's not the same sort of flat refusal Kay'd gotten from him at first, the kind that had meant his shields were up and nothing she'd say was going to get them to come down; it's confident, definite, but not aggressive or defensive. She frowns at him, curious. 

"Why not?—If, if you don't mind me asking, I mean."

"When has me minding ever stopped you before?" Now he sounds amused. Kay ducks her head, conceding the point. "Say it," he says.

"Ugh, never, okay? Why's that even—"

ND sighs, which is of course entirely for her benefit. "I meant my name, Kay."

That throws her. She stares at him, inexplicably feeling heat creep up the back of her neck. "Uh... ND?"

"Hmm." He sets his reassembled blaster aside and tilts his head, eyeing her. "You don't hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"When you say it, it's an entirely different name than what Jaylen called me."

[kazoosandfannypacks]

augh my barnes & noble cart is $1.09 away from free shipping 😭

[blondeaxolotl]

for you, for listening to me yap (and bc im trying to get a handle on writing jamil so i can write my jamikali fic)--🧣anon

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jamil stepped carefully into the eerily-lit cafeteria, his ghostly escorts brushing past his silver-clad sleeves. The tables were elaborately set up, candles ablaze with blue fire and lace-like tablecloth made of…Sevens, were those cobwebs? 

Jamil squared his shoulders, expression falling from charming and poised to momentarily panicked, before settling on placid and serene. 

And yeah, Ortho might nuke Night Raven College. And okay, yes, his doing so would eradicate all student life on campus, Jamil included. But, it would also take out any and all possible spiders, he was sure of it.

So he turned around and walked right out. 

Or well, he tried anyway. But the moment he shifted, the wispy forms of the phantom guard solidified behind him, the temperature dropping a couple more degrees, and Jamil could feel himself going lethargic, could feel his cold blood start to flow a bit more sluggishly, the usual sharpness of his senses dulled by the frigid air. 

He did not yet see her, the reason he was here, in the NRC cafeteria, but he felt her. He felt her in the bowed heads of his ghostly escorts, in the way he could hear Idia squeak in panic, and in the sensation of cool fingertips as they traced his cheek. 

Fighting off the urge to shiver, he pulled himself together, eyes sharpening as she finally came into focus. Most brides wore veils of tulle and chiffon, but she? She was veiled in death and beauty.  

She was a grotesque amalgamation of bone and skin. She was an ethereal figure of lace and elegance. Sorrow and determination. Haughtiness and anger. 

The enchanted ring sat heavy in his pocket, and the weight of his duty lay heavy on his shoulders. 

Jamil adjusted his cuffs, giving a practiced smile as he stepped towards her. His movements graceful and deliberate, his gaze steady. He’d spent his whole life smiling and playing along to the wealthy, anticipating their needs and acting accordingly. What was one princess to the hordes of elite he’d been serving since childhood? 

He was ready. 

And then, as if on cue, a voice called out from the frozen lineup of suitors to his left.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, Sea Snake?”

Jamil faltered mid-step, before moving on, ignoring the voice as he dropped to a knee in front of the specter floating in front of him. 

He knew exactly who that voice belonged to without having to turn and look. He sighed, exasperated, but kept his composure. He could apologize later. Right now, he had a job to do.

“Your Highness,” he said, looking up at the dead royal, “I apologize for the interruption, I know it is most uncouth, to intrude on a Lady on her wedding day, but I just had to express my love for you. I think you’re the loveliest Princess that has ever existed, and no one will ever be able to compare-”

“He’s lying! Sea Snake’s a liar!” 

Jamil’s eyes slid over to the left, where Floyd Leech’s frozen form twitched slightly, his body held in an exaggerated position of bored disinterest. Floyd’s mismatched eyes were gleaming with the playful malice Jamil was all too familiar with.

“A liar? For thinking I’m beautiful? How dare-”

Jamil tuned out the ghost princess, locking eyes with his boyfriend instead. 

Stop, his eyes said, just let me handle it so we can get this over with.

No, Floyd’s expression said, I will not. 

Jamil winced, mentally cursing himself. He was supposed to be focused. This wasn't the time for Floyd’s antics, but, as the eel merman was already turning over to the still yelling bride-to-be, it was clear that was never going to happen.

“Hey lady! Shut up already! You talk too much, it’s annoying.” 

The lady in question swelled in rage, her face taking on a bluer-hue as she rose higher in the air, her personal guard floating up with her, desperate to calm her down. The princess shrugged off the soothing hands of her loyal soldier, shrieking as she flew straight down to Floyd’s frozen form and delivered a loud, painful smack. 

“How DARE you speak to a Princess that way? How dare you raise your voice to me, you vulgar, lowly, impudent reject! Why, I should–” 

“Your highness, please,” Jamil hastily spoke, quickly stepping in between the angry princess and his angrier boyfriend, “ignore him.”  

He kept his wary eyes trained on the princess’s still raised hand. “Don’t listen to him, really,” he laughed, forced and strained as he sent a subtle kick to Floyd’s leg, “I meant every word I said.”

“No, you didn’t.” 

Floyd’s voice dripped with annoyance, as though Jamil had made a grievous error.

“Floyd,” Jamil hisseed, trying to keep the edge of stressed out desperation free of his voice. “I’m just here to do my part, okay? I’m just putting the ring on her finger, like Crowley asked. I’m trying to save everyone, including you—”

“Yeah, save everyone,” Floyd interrupted with a scoff. “Except me.” He let out a dramatic sigh, eyes narrowed in a mixture of mock jealousy and irritation. “What, you think you’re just gonna be cheating on me? In front of me?”

“Floyd, you literally didn’t care at all when it was your turn,” Jamil pointed out, all thoughts of the princess gone as he turned around to face Floyd.

He motioned wildly to the still-frozen suitors, and then to Floyd himself as is to prove his point . “You outright pissed her off on purpose. You didn’t even try to woo her. You didn’t even let Jade pull it off! If he had I wouldn’t be here!”

“Oh, yeah? So, I should be more like you?” Floyd’s voice shifted to a high-pitched mockery. “Playing the perfect prince with your pretty boy act and everything?”

Jamil rolls his eyes but, despite his best efforts to remain calm, couldn’t help but mutter fondly, “You’re impossible…”

“You’re my boyfriend,” Floyd continued, his voice louder now and laced with possessive glee. “So why are you over here trying to impress some ghost bride? Huh? You think she’s got better charm than me?”

The ghost bride watched this exchange with steadily escalating fury, her pale blue eyes narrowing in disgust at the absolute mockery of love playing out in front of her. How dare these fakes, these imposters of princely perfection come forth and profess their most ardent desire to wed her, to be her most beloved groom, only to turn around and trade impassioned declarations of love with one another? She reevaluated the one she had smacked twice already–he at least, was honest in his disinterest. The one with the pretty braids though, had to go. Her beloved Prince Idia would never. 

She floated closer as her latest suitor straightened his back, his striking eyes still settled on the one with the teal hair. “Floyd, you were in the lineup before me. Don’t act like I’m the one who started this whole mess. I'm trying to end it. Can you at least let me do that?"

The teal-haired one, Floyd, caught Eliza’s approaching figure, and he smiled, pointed teeth on display. "Yeah, well," he huffed, his voice dripping with satisfaction, "I guess I can, but then, it’s not up to me, is it Sea Snake?"

Jamil stiffened, the sensation of ghostly fingers brushing through his hair reminding him that he wasn’t alone, and hadn’t been the entire time he had been pulled into an argument with Floyd. 

The sound of a sharp slap cut through the air, Jamil freezing in place just like the others. His body went rigid, but his eyes still burned with frustration.

Floyd’s voice rang out in his usual smug, teasing manner, as if nothing had happened. “Oops. Looks like I won this round. So, Jamil... when are we going to stop pretending like you’re actually going to woo anyone else?”

Jamil’s eyes narrowed, a little fire behind his otherwise calm expression. “You seem to forget Floyd, but I wasn’t the one who sabotaged everything before.”

Floyd gave a small, almost bored, shrug in response. “I didn’t need to win her over. She wasn’t my type. You, on the other hand...”

There was a pause, then. “I’m just trying to save you, Floyd.”

"Mm, sure," Floyd’s voice dipped, sounding too satisfied for Jamil’s liking. "But I’m not sure I’m too thrilled about Sea Snake trying to impress anyone else. Especially not her."

"You're impossible," Jamil muttered again, his voice barely a whisper.

“You mad about it?” 

Jamil shifted as much as he could in his frozen state, flexing his neck as he once-more took in the cold that was settling in as the ghostly wedding continued to assemble. Now that he had no mission to complete and the adrenaline had long since left, he could feel the urge to fall into a deep sleep once again creeping up on him. 

He blinked slowly, taking in the mismatched eyes that were staring into his own. “I suppose there are worse ways to go,” he mumbled through a tired yawn, “then falling asleep to the sight of your eyes.” 

Floyd snickered in delight, and Jamil smiled. It was real and not at all like any of the smiled he had flashed for the princess. “I mean,” and now Jamil was really fighting sleep, his eyelids growing heavier with each degree the temperature seemed to drop, but he was determined to put a matching smile on Floyd’s face, “could you imagine, if I was stuck staring into Jade’s? The horror.” 

And Floyd was laughing now, pointy teeth on display once more, and Jamil fell asleep to his favorite smile and favorite sound, the feeling of something long and lean kicking slowly at his legs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

im not too pleased with it. i feel like if it happened the other NRC boys would not hold back from their heckling. but i hope you enjoyed it!

JUMPING BACK AND FORTH ONTO THE WALLS, I LOVEEEE THISSS SM. Floyd has no chill, literally if this was like a end of the world situation where Jamil had to woo someone into not nuking the world, Floyd would just hit the nuke with a hammer without hesitation instead of witnessing Jamil get with someone in order to save everyone. "Taking everyone down with me" ahhh

WAAAAGG this was a great way to start my morning I'm absolutely in love with this.. Thank you for using my inbox for a fanfic dump I AM HONOURED. But also whole time I was reading it I was just thinking about the brides reaction to just witnessing flojami argue in front of her.. just pure what the fuck

Jamil, you had it all perfectly but unfortunately your eel boyfriend would rather die than witness you rizz up the ghost bride in front of him 😭😭

[emrlden]

i neva stood a chaNCE. it's like he was specifically engineered to be a favorite character for me smh.

and then extra silly ones that progressively get worse. also SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

i've been obsessed with his theme songs they are so NEAT

[nerdrooikat]

drabbles about the deer imagery in The Secret History (specifically in relation 2 Camilla) because her becoming a deer/believing that she did stuck in my mind (although this post will mostly take Camilla and the other's recollection of events to be as they recount it – if i examine it in it's effect as an incorrect account, that would be in a separate post)

Obviously there's, on a meta level, an irony to it – Camilla and Charles are named to make fun of the Princess Diana scandal that was happening at the time, and so ironically Camilla transforms into an animal sacred to Diana.

There's also a parallel that I think could be interesting to make between Camilla and Taygete, who for anyone unfamiliar, was turned into a deer by Artemis to protect her from Zeus' sexual advances. Although I think that what happened in the Bacchae was concensual sexually, I think it could possible be indicative in Camilla's narrative role as the "wanted"/"desired" one within the greek class – by Charles, Henry, Richard (although he wasnt there) and even Francis, although he wants to be her more so than actually wanting her.

Additionally, outside of how it actually functions within the story, her transformation into a creature associated so closely with innocence, especially in relation to Diana/Artemis' virginity, might perhaps be tied to Richards view of her as this "pure" and "virginal" person – obviously we know this is far from the truth, and he himself learns this later, but I think it definitely ties into this flawed angelic idea of her he so covets.

I think this interpretation ties into the myth of Actaeon (in terms of "deer transformation myths") although its very interesting to me that they different at key points – Camilla, the "virginual" character, is the one transformed, rather than the sexual transgressor (Charles) or the one who introduces miasma (Henry). But, like Actaeon, she is pursued and hunted – which, another key point – Actaeon is pursued and killed by his own hunting dogs, and Charles returns from the ritual with a bite mark, perhaps tying him into the myth thurther?

[ratsoncats]

I'm worried

Hi, I'm Gabe, I'm 19, and I live in the U.S.

I am a trans man. This is something that has been apparent to me for years now, and something I have suspected (or, in a way, hoped for) for most of my life. I have always felt a joy in aligning myself with the masculine as opposed to the feminine. There are countless personal experiences I could point to in order to show you how I know I'm trans. If you're curious, I could do that. But, for what I aim to say here, I don't think that is necessary. What's important to know is that I like living as a man, being seen as a man, and it burdens me with a deep discomfort and practical disgust to be perceived as anything but.

I've made a sort of peace with my body. My face isn't something I'd consider to be pretty and I keep my hair short. Baggy clothes cover my chest and the rest of my body well. Most days, no one has any idea that I'm trans and simply see me as some boy picking up a gallon of milk. I'm happy that that's the case; I know many others aren't as lucky. I still have my share of reservations about my body, though. I am perfectly fine with being short (to the extent that I even celebrate it), but my chest, my hips, and my thighs bring me dysphoria. (Genitals are a different story that I'd rather not get into on the internet with strangers.) These parts of me are usually easy to ignore, but when I focus on them for too long, sadness overtakes me. I don't want to look like this. I want to be flat, boxy, small. The image of myself in my head doesn't align with what I see in the mirror, and it drags me down.

Another part of me says that cisgender men can have bodies like this, too, and that I shouldn't feel like any less of a man because of it. A third part says that curvy and top-heavy trans men are still men all the same and that stressing over it won't bring any good. As much as it feels good to listen to these voices, I still long for my ideal body. I long because it's a personal desire of mine to look that way, plain and simple. I also long, however, to make day-to-day public life to go smoother. I want people to mistake me for a girl less and call me "sir" and "young man" more; I'd prefer my body to read as a more convenient physical shorthand for manhood.

So, for the sake of my comfort and continued enjoyment of my time on this earth, I'd like to change how my body looks. One way to achieve this would be through the use of testosterone, which, on top of rearranging the stores of fat in my body, would also provide me with the welcome bonus of increased facial and body hair. I am also very interested in receiving top surgery to make my chest more masculine. It lifts my mood just to think of what my body would be like after these treatments, even moreso to know that there is a real possibility that they could be done.

The current climate around trans topics worries me. All I want is to live comfortably, but discussions about criminalizing transness have me fearing the worst. I don't want to force anything onto anyone, to limit or in any way alter anyone's speech, insert myself someplace where I'm endangering others or putting them at a disadvantage, or publicly indulge in a fetish. I'm a simple man with simple desires of a flat chest and he/him pronouns, but there's an army formed against me and people with similar stories.

I'm an American. I believe in freedom. A deep respect for the freedom of speech is something my dad has instilled in me from a young age and that freedom is something I'm thankful for. I believe that if someone wants to say something, they should be able to, and that if someone wants to do something, given that it doesn't bring harm to anyone else (or their property, etc.), they should be able to do it.

There are gray areas that come with that idea, yes, but those are outside the scope of this discussion. What I want to address here are procedures that improve a person's quality of life, procedures like gender-affirming surgery. If this so-called "mutilation" is as bad as some would say, why are so many people happier for having undergone it? Should consenting adults really be kept from personal pursuits like top or bottom surgery? Cis people get cosmetic surgeries all the time, but I don't see the public uproar about those procedures being mutilation. I would also like to ask, what does it matter to you whether someone's genitals could cause or support a pregnancy? The decision to raise a child is a very personal one, and I don't think the general public's ideas need to hold much weight in a potential-parent-to-be's decision making process. If someone is okay with the fact that their body may not work as before and will have visible scars, I think they should be completely within their right to have a surgery or take hormones.

I'd like to revisit the topic of free speech. Someone speaking about their experiences and feelings in their body and about their gender should not be considered pornographic. The average conversation about trans people in no way serves to provide sexual stimulation. Topics regarding genitals and sex should not be confused with explicit content; sex ed is taught in schools, isn't it? Education on these topics is important for many reasons and can prevent unwanted, painful, and dangerous situations. Conversations about transness are simply a dialogue about people's experiences, often with the intention of educating their audience. Given that they aren't intended to get the audience off, they are not porn. People living their lives is not porn. Transness isn't porn.

It deeply concerns me to see people misconstruing what it means to be trans and trying to limits trans healthcare and voices. I have hope for the future, but recent discourse has buried that under a layer of anxieties.

I'm just a boy, sitting at his laptop, worrying about if he's going to have to live with B-cups for the next ten years of his life. Being vocal about issues like this is important. This is how change happens.

The conditions were just so that I decided it was about time I write this. This is my first time posting something like this, but I don't think it'll be my last. Let's keep this conversation going, and let's make this country and this world a place we're happy to call home.

[fabdante]

The Party Animal and the Goth

Duncan tried to tell her before they showed up that this would be different. She should give it a try. It’d been years since the last party she went to with him (she’d been dating Trent at the time to, something Duncan further blamed for her bad time). Maybe she’d like it now. And Duncan wouldn’t leave her alone, he swore. No awkward hanging out by herself and the dog should they have one. And if Trent was there, Duncan would punch him just for her. Blah blah. All sorts of promises. Well. She wasn’t into it. Like she said she wouldn’t be. Duncan fucked off somewhere else. Like she thought he would. And she saw her ex Trent floating around and she was doing everything in her power to avoid any awkward small talk that would ensue the second he saw her again. Like she feared.  Of course the party was going to be that predictable. She should have put money on it. And there wasn't even a dog. Around midnight she’d gotten sick of the whole thing. But Duncan was off doing something (hopefully not someone) and Geoff found her. They talked. She mentioned maybe looking for DJ and leaving. But Geoff lit up like she’d just told him he won a prize and her night got a little weird. Instead of just saying bye or helping her find DJ or literally anything else, Geoff was instantly offering to talk her back to her dorm. So that got her where she was now, walking with Geoff away from his party.  What the fuck.

Summery: A classic 'Geoff walks Gwen home' story set in the year of 2013/2014, in which Gwen has decided to leave a party early and Geoff has decided he'll walk her home. (College AU, no camp.)

Words: 4,274

Rating: Teen (swearing)

Read Here!

[sailfish-serum]

EEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE JOY AND WHIMSY REACTIVATED OHHHOHOOO WHIPPIE YAHOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

[frogeyedape]

I am so unbelievably pissed off. FUCK HOAs

Oh, my trash/recycling bin can't be visible except on pickup day? Ok whatever fine I hate you but I can deal with this

Weekly inspections?????? FU FU FU FU FU

SECOND NOTICE ALSO WE'RE CHARGING YOU MONEY TO SEND YOU CERTIFIED MAIL OF THIS TOTALLY LEGIT TOTALLY SECOND NOTICE OF WHAT IS ACTUALLY A VIOLATION cue me: checks notes. Hmm. My recycling bin was. on the curb. on recycling pickup day. You know. The day it has to be out. The day it is motherfucking ALLOWED TO BE FUCKING OUT AND VISIBLE.

so. 1) not a violation

I have sent them the trash AND recycling pickup schedules, which are DIFFERENT, btw

I have disputed the fact of the violation

I have disputed the linking of this "violation" to a previous violation MONTHS AGO--their "first notice" in this case was a "Courtesy Notice" LITERALLY 5 MONTHS AGO and they've done so many inspections since then and my bin CLEARLY WASN'T OUT IN THOSE INTERVENING MONTHS so WTMFH

So I am posting like a crazy person here instead of sending the absolutely deranged email I almost sent (I did send a slightly less deranged version with the disputes, and requesting a hearing)

OMG. It has been. Less than one hour since I learned this fun fun news. My bin was out YESTERDAY, y'all. YESTERDAY. I am going to blow a gasket

[teh-nos]

"are people not into that?" i ask, after posting my weird niche shit to the internet, despite knowing it to be weird niche shit.