#i can enjoy it nonetheless

[katsettee]

Warning, absolutely unobstructed yapping that I did not read over 😎‼️💪👇

I feel like this is a world relevant question framed in an extremely negative way. Is that not what sharing any creative work is like?

Perhaps controversial but I never understood people losing enjoyment of things because of other peoples interpretations?

My mind is my own untouchable movie theater to enjoy, nothing anyone else does or how they play will ever affect me in an irreversible or permanent way.

I always thought art is up for interpretation of the viewer, no matter what it is. No review is ever the same.

You cant misinterpret something that is created solely for the intention of interpretation and enjoyment.

I have never created art of a character that is ‘franchise accurate’ and nobody else should be ever be confined to that standard either.

This isn’t as simple as ���would you be okay if your intentionally LGBT character had that relevant part of their character removed?” Of course not! That sucks! I don’t want to be complacent in letting bigotry ‘censor’ parts of a characters identity thats relevant to who they are and their motives!

But if ideals and traits and personality quirks are lost… even if full morals change- thats part of what happens. You released your baby out to the public, and now it’s EVERYONES baby.

You shared a part of yourself, but now everyone who touches it is going to attach a part of theme to it as well. It won’t look the same, and you have no control over what is added or taken away.

But something new is made, and as long as things keep getting made, you are going to keep getting inspired to start again.

Would you sell your fave OC for $1,000? You can still make art of them but, they're being sold to a franchise you personally hate that's could assassinate their character, and the fandom will misinterpret them no matter what.

[ww2yaoi]

Unfortunately, I don’t have anything official to post for @webgottweek because I’ve been sick (and unprepared), but here’s a scene from my still yet untitled webgott wip for the day 6 prompt: haircut. Enjoy!

Joe makes good on his offer to cut David’s hair a few days later. They take their leave after dinner while most of the guys are downstairs playing cards. Joe drags David’s desk chair from their room into the bathroom and sets it up in front of the sink. He lays out his comb and scissors as David watches from the doorway with his arms crossed, not entirely thrilled to be parting with his mop. He only agreed because Joe seemed so adamant about doing something nice for him, and the last thing David wants is to deny him the chance to feel useful, especially now that the war is over and most of the company is stuck in limbo.

“Not too short, okay?” David says as Joe pushes him down into the chair.

“Jesus Christ, Web,” Joe says, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “All the officers trust me with their hair, why can’t you?”

“Yeah, right, like you’d give Captain Speirs a bad haircut,” David says as Joe wraps a towel around his neck. “You know I won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Would you shut up? I’m not going to give you a bad haircut. I wouldn’t risk my reputation like that.” Joe takes a drag of his cigarette then ashes it in a tray on the back of the toilet. “Now lean back.”

David huffs, but does as he’s told, tipping his head back into the sink. Joe runs the lukewarm water, drenches David’s head, then lathers his hair with soap. Admittedly, it feels good. The last time David washed his hair was over a week ago, seeing as their billet has limited showers and insufficient hot water to facilitate so many men bathing daily. Usually, David just jumps in the lake and lets it wash away the sweat and grime from drills and training exercises. He’ll probably never be as dirty as he was in Normandy or Holland ever again, and he thanks God for that.

Joe massages his fingers into David’s scalp and David nearly groans. Joe must see the contentment on David’s face because he smirks.

“Feels good, right?”

“Yes,” David says flatly.

Joe runs his fingers through David’s hair from root to tip, then rinses out the soap. The act is oddly intimate, Joe hovering over him, touching his head and maneuvering it from side to side, using his hands so deftly. David is completely at his mercy. He wonders if Joe washes the hair of every man that asks him for a trim, if the officers get to see Joe like this, get to feel his fingers on their scalps. David suddenly feels jealous, possessive, but he knows the feeling makes no sense, that Joe is just doing a job for extra pocket money.

Joe uses a spare towel to ring most of the water out of David’s hair, then beckons him to stand up. He moves the chair away from the sink so he has enough room to walk around it, then gets David to sit back down again. He proceeds to comb David’s hair, gently working out the knots and parting it where the strands naturally fall.

“Not too short,” David reminds Joe as he grabs his scissors.

“Don’t be a baby,” Joe says. “I’m only taking an inch off.”

David listens to the snip, snip, snip of the scissors as Joe begins cutting his hair, starting at the back, and the sound is unexpectedly relaxing, almost enough to raise goosebumps on his arms. He watches as the trimmings fall to the floor like dark feathers, interrupting the white tiles below. Joe alternates between combing his hair, measuring the sections with his fingers, and trimming them down. He works quickly and quietly, gently ushering David’s head back and forth and to the side wherever he needs it to go.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” David asks.

“My dad was a barber,” Joe explains as he moves around the chair to face David and work on the front ends of his hair. “I used to help him at the shop on weekends, sweeping up clippings, answering the phone, cleaning windows, that sort of thing. I would watch him and learned that way until eventually he let me practice on him, with mixed results.”

Joe smiles, seemingly at the memory. David likes listening to Joe talk about his family. His voice has a softer quality to it when he does it. David probably sounds the opposite when discussing his parents or his siblings. Usually when he speaks of them, he’s pissed off about something they said or did.

“Then when I dropped out of school as a teenager I would do odd jobs, including cutting hair,” Joe continues. “I got pretty good at it.”

“Wait, you dropped out of school?” David asks.

He tries not to sound too dismayed, but his face must betray him. Joe gives him a skeptical look.

“Does that offend your very being, Harvard?”

“No,” David insists. “I’m just shocked, is all. You’re so—”

The word ‘smart’ dries up in David’s mouth. Joe is looking right at him as he measures the front pieces of his hair to ensure the length is even. His eyebrows are raised.

“I just didn’t expect it,” David says.

“Yeah, well, there were a lot of mouths to feed in my house growing up,” Joe says. “I would’ve rathered my sisters stay in school than me.” Joe makes a few more cuts around David’s head. “What does your dad do?”

“Uh, he’s a businessman,” David says.

“Yeah? That’s vague. What kind of businessman?”

“I don’t know.” David tries to stifle the resentment in his voice. “He’s the vice president of a trade company. It’s one of those jobs where half of his time is spent going out to lunch.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal,” Joe says, setting down his scissors.

“It’s a nothing kind of job,” David admits. “At least cutting hair you’re doing something. Dealing with a bunch of sales projections and ass-kissers all day doesn’t do anyone any good, unless you’re some self-satisfied prick in a suit.”

Joe snickers. “Jesus, Web. What are you, a Stalinist?”

“No, I just think there are better things to do with your life.”

Joe grabs a towel and runs it over David’s hair to finish drying it. “So what do you want to do with your life? If we ever get out of here?”

“I don’t know,” David says. “Write.”

“Yeah? Sounds nice.”

Joe tosses the towel aside and grabs a bottle of something off the back of the toilet.

“What is that?” David asks.

“Hair oil,” Joe says.

“You’ve been carting hair oil around war-torn Europe?”

Joe smirks. “Only the best for my customers.”

He unscrews the cap, dabs some into the center of his palm, sets the bottle aside, then warms the oil up in his hands. It smells strong and musky, and David is reminded of the other night, of the oil that coated his cock and Joe’s fingers and his thighs. They have yet to fuck like that again. Their days have been so filled with training and drills that they’re both too exhausted by night’s end to do anything but fall asleep in the same bed.

At the same time, David thinks there must be some other reason. It must be because when they fucked on David’s birthday, it was his first time with a man. Admitting that must have put Joe off, made him believe he’ll turn out to be some lovelorn kid who will just grow attached. Or maybe, Joe is waiting for him to make the next move. Maybe Joe thinks he’s too chickenshit to do it.

Joe stoops down to eye level and passes his hands through David’s new haircut, adjusting a strand here and a strand there. David just stares at Joe as he focuses intently on his styling, combing David’s curls back with his fingers, following the waves as they naturally form. He brushes a stray hair behind David’s ear then smiles.

“Can I see it?” David asks.

“Not yet.” Joe reaches out and runs his thumb along David’s jaw. “Do you want me to shave you? You’re looking pretty stubbly.”

“I shaved this morning,” David says.

“Come on, Web. You’re the kind of guy that gets five o’clock shadow at noon,” Joe says. “Your haircut won’t look as good if I don’t shave you.”

“I can handle you with scissors around my head but I don’t know how I feel about you wielding a razor near my throat,” David deadpans.

“Oh, please. I’m a professional.” Joe straightens. “Let me get my shaving kit.”

He opens the bathroom door and slips out into the hallway. David is tempted to look at himself in the mirror while Joe is gone but unfortunately agrees that the end product will look better if he shaves. Joe returns a minute later anyway. He unrolls his kit on the toilet lid, takes the shaving brush, soaps it up and lathers the lower half of David’s face. Joe is even closer now than he was when he was cutting David’s hair, and he’s looking at him, really looking at him.

“You’re getting tan,” Joe says as he reaches for his razor.

“I like the sun,” David replies.

“Why the hell do you live on the upper East Coast then?”

David shrugs. “Victim of circumstance.”

Joe chuckles. He wipes down the blade of the straight razor with a towel.

“I’ve always wanted to move somewhere warm,” David confesses. “Like Florida or California.”

Joe’s eyes flicker at that. The change in his expression is nearly imperceptible, but something like curiosity, or maybe even recognition, passes over his face. It fades in an instant, then Joe is hovering the razor above David’s cheekbone.

“Okay, don’t move, unless you want me to cut you.”

David sits as still as possible as Joe glides the razor over his cheeks and down the immediate curve of his neck, pulling his skin taut with his thumb, then wiping the soap and stubble off the blade with the towel. If David was at Joe’s mercy before, he’s completely vulnerable now. Their conversation gets put on hold as Joe works the razor over David’s skin. His hands are very steady, which is at least reassuring. As far as David can tell, Joe has always had steady hands, along with an obedient trigger finger. At least, obedient to himself. He’s a much better shot than David ever was, and David can understand why. He’s precise.

Joe finishes shaving David with one last swipe over the ball of his jaw, and David feels like he can breathe full and deep again. Joe goes to the sink to wet the towel, then returns to wipe the remaining soap from David’s cheeks.

“Wait,” Joe says. He removes the other towel from David’s shoulders and fixes his hair one more time. “Okay, you can look now.”

David gets up from the chair and turns to face the mirror. His reflection greets him like a stranger he once saw on the street but swears he’s met before in a dream. He recognizes himself, obviously, but he looks more youthful, yet without being young somehow. He’s molted his old skin, the skin that became mottled and toughened by the war, and settled into a new one. He has colour in his cheeks for once, which look impossibly smooth, and his hair is maybe the most well-groomed he’s ever seen it, at least since the war started. Shorter, yes, but shiny and expertly coiffed into a wave off his forehead. David stares at himself. He feels clean, fresh, but most of all, he feels meticulously cared for.

“Well, do you like it?” Joe asks.

“Yeah, Joe, I do,” David says, turning to him and smiling. “I really like it. Thank you.”

Joe returns his grin and winks. “I knew you would, you nonbeliever,” he says. “You look like Carey fucking Grant.”

David laughs. “Do I?”

“Well, not really, but your hair does.” Joe looks down at all the clippings on the floor. “I need to find a broom.”

“I think there’s a broom closet in the hallway,” David says. “I’ll go check.”

He slips out of the bathroom and walks down to the end of the hall, opening a thin door beside the stairs. Thankfully, there’s a broom and dustpan inside, propped up against the wall. David grabs them both just as footsteps echo up the stairwell. Luz appears at the top, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Ayy, Web. Looking spiffy,” he says. “What is this, the fucking Ritz?”

“Joe cut my hair,” David explains, fighting back a smile.

“Yeah, I can see that. Lookin’ good, kid.” Luz claps him on the shoulder. “I’ll have to get him to do me next.”

Luz disappears into his room a few doors over and David returns to the bathroom. Joe is sitting on the toilet lid and smoking the cigarette he ashed earlier. They clean up, collecting the clippings from the floor and throwing them in the dustbin. Joe gathers his tools and his shaving kit and they head back to their room, David carrying the chair.

David returns it to his desk then flops down on the bed, suddenly feeling very tired. He’s afraid to ruin his hair, but his head is too heavy to keep off the pillow. He closes his eyes and a few minutes later, he feels the mattress sink as Joe lies down beside him.

David cracks open an eye and sees that Joe is facing his direction, his head resting on the adjacent pillow, just looking at him in the lamplight.

“Inspecting your handiwork?” David asks.

Joe nods. “A little bit.”

“I feel like we should be going out somewhere,” David muses. “To a jazz club or something.”

“You like jazz clubs?”

“Not particularly. I just feel like it’s a waste. If I fall asleep I’m going to mess up my hair, and I’ll have to shave again in the morning.”

“Don’t be vain, Web,” Joe says.

“It’s not vanity. I want people to see your work.”

Joe laughs through his nose. “Well, I see it.”

“You and Luz.”

“Luz?”

“He saw me in the hallway. He said I looked spiffy.”

“And that ain’t enough for you?”

“Shut up.”

A beat passes, then Joe reaches out and strokes David’s cheek, his thumb tracing the smooth, clean-shaven line of his jaw back and forth, back and forth.

“My sisters would be obsessed with you.”

David smirks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, they would want to have your babies,” Joe says. “Except that you’re a goy.”

“Ugh.” David makes a face. “I don’t want to think about your sisters that way.”

Joe laughs and the sound cuts through the quiet. David ignores him, too disturbed by the concept. He nuzzles further into Joe’s warm palm, feeling himself being pulled towards sleep. He wants to kiss Joe, but he doubts he has the energy to start anything right now. Instead, he shuts his eyes, his body growing heavier and heavier. Joe’s hand migrates to his hair, fixing it even as he verges on unconsciousness. He brushes a loose strand from David’s forehead, smoothes his sideburns down with his fingertips. David is nearly asleep when he hears it.

“Gut aussehend,” Joe mutters. “If only they knew, Web. If only they knew.”

[luminique]

Lighter with a chubby s/o more flesh for a pillow! (and also to hold...)

i am so sorry anon, i have a smaller figure (on the thinner and small side) so i will try my absolute best to write something but please forgive me if i get anything wrong. if there are any mistakes, please give any feedback so that i can improve. if there are any lighter writers who have a chubby body type, i would be more than happy to reblog their post instead !!

we’ve established that lighter LOVES cuddles, and your body type is absolutely perfect for that. not to say that he has a preference, he loves you either way.

there are times where he wants you laying on top of him and he’s insistent on making it happen. you can tell him 193739370272 times that you’re too heavy for him and to that… he’d just give the dumbest grin because you both know how strong he is. he loves wrapping his arms around you while also comforting you that he is alright. something about seeing you look up at him with your chubby cheeks has him head over heels, wanting to caress them but the thought embarrasses him so much that he fails to so his hand is just awkwardly in the air (we love a boyfailure)

OH I THINK HE’D LOVE LAYING HIS HEAD ON YOUR LAP/THIGHS !! they’re the perfect pillows and especially after a long day…. he’s a simple man, all he needs is to lay on your lap, have your fingers in his hair while he not so secretly gazes into your eyes behind his sunglasses. a sigh escapes his lips, what a perfect way to end the day.

and if ANYONE makes any negative comments about your looks, he’s already challenging them to a fight. as he said, “an issue that can be solved by fists is no issue at all” and he stands by that. especially about his beloved, no one is allowed to throw insults at you or at him and if they do…. well we’ll see if they can rise from the ashes.

[monachopism]

i really do hope at some point buck is comfortable enough talking abt his sexuality to casually tell eddie at one point how attracted he was to him initially

"yknow, i didn't see it at the time, but im pretty sure the reason i was mean to you when we met was because i had a crush on you."

"you- uh- you did?"

"yeah, weird right?

"weird"

and then maybe.....messy kiss? miscommunication trope? mutual pining? slowburn? idk pick ur poison

[lunar-years]

What do you think is the most character accurate fic you've ever read??

Ever read? That's an impossible question lmao. I have been reading fanfics since i was twelve. I have read fanfics I don't even remember 🫡

Obviously it's a subjective question to begin with but part of the fun of fanfic to me is exploring different avenues for characters according to different author's preferences and putting blorbos into incredibly un-canon Situations. But in a lot of those settings what is "in-character" is even more thrown asunder because it's so far removed from anything that would even remotely happen in canon.

I guess what I mean by that is a lot of the fics I read and love don't necessarily align with my personal ideas of/headcanons for a character, yet still remain "character accurate" in my esteem, if you will (I'm thinking, for example, of that one Gay!Roy fic which is EXCELLENT and incredibly in-character imo and yet I still don't personally think Roy The Character is gay. But even though that's generally not how I think of his sexuality I still liked exploring that alternative verse and still recognized that story's Roy as Roy. Does that make sense?)

ANYWAY. going to veer off the specific question and instead just list some miscellaneous recent(ish) favs (or at least ones I think were published after I made my last rec list):

Paperwork by @pghumfort (Roy/Jamie)

Tits Out! also by @pghumfort (Jamie/Keeley)

if anything could fall (it's the world that falls away from me) by scarlettroses (Roy/Jamie)

i came prepared for absolution (if you'd only ask) by scarlettroses (pre-relationship Roy/Jamie); I've definitely recommended this one before but it's SO good on character exploration, especially for Roy. really really complex and meaningful look into his brain. I love it.

I should know (what turns you on) by Dancey96 (Roy/Jamie/Keeley)

It's Fine With Me (if you wanna stay the night) by @shortcuts-make-long-delays (pre-relationship Roy/Jamie/Keeley)

screaming crying throwing up by @morethanslightly (Roy/Jamie/Keeley)

that four letter word by @izzyspussy (Roy/Jamie)

5 Times Phoebe Meddled in Uncle Roy's Love Life... by darkesky

An Invitation by Laurasaurus (Roy/Jamie, Roy/Jamie/Keeley, Roy/Keeley)

Not exactly Cyrano by @destinationtoast (Roy/Jamie/Keeley); I may have recommended this before but now it's finished!! go back and re-read it if you haven't finished it yet...it's so worth it!

Also the Gay Roy one I referenced earlier is so afraid that time will take it all from me by LikeAMovieIOnceSaw. Really such a lovely fic 💕

as always please read the tags and story descriptions and ratings before diving in to make sure they are right for you and your needs etc.

[faeryaesther]

Carlos Alcaraz [2] ended Jannik Sinner's hot streak in 2024, marked as the first to defeat the Italian in 2024 to reach the final of BNP Paribas Open back-to-back alongside Daniil Medvedev [4].

[possamble]

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom: ダンジョン飯 | Dungeon Meshi | Delicious in Dungeon

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Marcille Donato/Falin Touden

Summary:

Hunched over the stove, wrapped in one of her embroidered shawls, Marcille stares at Falin between unruly strands of long hair. It’s funny. Kabru had called Marcille’s stunned face “owlish,” once, but Falin disagrees — owls are birds of prey. Hunters. Marcille’s eyes aren’t wide like an owl scanning for a kill, they’re wide like a startled prey animal desperately keeping still in the face of a predator. 

One part of Falin wants to leave and never make Marcille look at her like that again. The other part wants to cross the distance across the small room, grab this skittish creature by her delicate little waist and—

Falin looks away. 

[akanbleh]

AKANBLEH!!! GIVE ME MORE SUMMER HE-MAN AND MY LIFE, IS YOURS (I have been waiting all summer, Need more He-Man/Prince Adam)

Your wish is my command :)

[wondrouswendy]

Forget to Remember, Chapter 22 Fandom: Alan Wake (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fictional Alex Casey/Alan Wake Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Canon Compliant, Canon Retelling, POV First Person, Romance, Horror, Angst, Drama, Humor, Friendship, Character Study, Self-Discovery, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Miscommunication, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Established Relationship Series: Part 2 of Kill Your Darlings Summary: The trip to Bright Falls was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, a chance to get out from under the collapsed remains of my writing career and to reconnect with my wife. But it was just another part of the spiral. The longest fall into dark depths. I landed into the arms of the person I least expected, the hero I had forgotten.

In the back of a police cruiser, Alan's newest head injury helps jog memories of the week he hasn't been able to account for with visceral clarity.

Read Chapter 22 on Ao3 here!

[thegameartist03]

watched a playthrough of Still Wakes the Deep (PHENOMENAL game) and i am disappointed that Caz did not have that taffy in him. everything seemed like it was perfectly set up for him to have that taffy in him (being presumed dead after rescue, knowing where the taffy stuff was around him, surviving as long as he did, not getting horribly injured, hearing things from the Big Taffy) but i completely understand why that wasn't the twist the game developers went for.

however, in order to cope i am now imagining a version of the game where Caz got Ethan Winters'd by the taffy after he fell in the water. this would affect the gameplay at multiple points and add new mechanics as well as incorporate the original ones, and certainly provide some conflict for a man who just wants to get home to his wife and daughters and keep his friends safe.

bonus! being taffy'd would give the player the option to save people who originally died by sacrificing Caz's humanity bit by bit and embracing the taffy more to overcome obstacles. you could even communicate with the already fully taffy'd guys and get them to calm down or move or target specifically you instead of other people.

just a concept, i probably won't do much with it. but i do have a very distinct image of Caz having a shiny oilslick sheen to his eyes like the Big Taffy after he's pulled out of the water.

[holocene-sims]

happy birthday to me 🎂

as a gift to y'all on my (not) special day, on this semi-okay monday, i am restarting my story queue 🎉

oh yes, everything the stars promised is so back! and running again at 2 posts at 8 and 9 PM EST for the time being 🥂 i'll slow it down if necessary, but 2 posts a day seems to work pretty well!

[soumuchforthat]

today is the final day of evanatsu week 2023, so here are the final submissions i made for it <3

first, day 6, aka sorry/dear

second, day 4, games/free day (gamer natsuhi my beloved)

and third, we have our magical wingmen, day 7, trick/magic!

[jacobsbigmelons]

after waking up from my nap, i am now only thinking of Jacob (edit. and pain. did i mention pain? yeah pain)

i’m so very sorry but after having one angsty thought now I need to make it happen (reqs i see you fear not!)

A shot not worth shooting

Jacob Custos x Male reader(?)(idk if this necessarily counts but let’s roll with it)

angst, reader character death, slight gore descriptions, reader turned werewolf, arguing, maybe ooc jacob? i legit have 0 clue how he’d act

The tourniquet Abi applied to your thigh a little while ago helped stop the profuse bleeding from your thigh, your wound, slightly exposed to everyone since your pant leg was ripped from the top definitely wasn’t the best sight to see.

“How do you feel?” Kaitlyn said as she stood in front of you, your arms wrapped around your one healthy leg as your wounded one laid to the side. “I don’t know…I feel like my senses are overloaded or something.” You slowly laid your head on your knee as to try and ignore the very apparent headache that’s made it’s way ever since your encounter with…whatever that thing was.

“Do you remember what it looked like? We couldn’t really decipher a lot from how panicked you were a bit ago…” Dylan said, tilting his head in slight curiosity incase you’re able to give any information. “God like…a human but a dog? it moves like a dog but looks like a human? I don’t know, I really don’t.” It became clear with your hands now beginning to run through your hair as a means of trying to sooth yourself that something was wrong and it wasn’t because of blood loss or anything.

An hour maybe two went by, you were able to muster the willpower to find yourself with Jacob close to the dock, the quiet lake was peaceful despite the crickets and their chirping. Your leg was surprisingly not too painful when you walked, could be that the tourniquet is numbing it or maybe your mind is at way too many places to focus on the pain. You two sat on the dock as Jacob held you his arms as a way to sooth the fear from earlier.

Your forehead laid upon Jacobs forearm as his pulse from his wrist was distinctly becoming more and more apparent to your ears, a slight ringing accompanying the random fixation. Your heart rate picked up, your fingertips became numb, your saliva glands kicked into overdrive but not before Jacobs voice brought you back to your bearings. “You okay?” He said slightly concerned while his thumb rubbed against the back of your hand.

“Sorry I…I think my adrenaline from earlier is barely fading away or something, so i’m feeling pretty tired.” You gave him a small toothless smile before resting back onto his forearm. A half hour went by before Emma, Kaitlyn and Dylan were in the building behind you two. Their voices slightly heard made you in a way feel more safe knowing your friends are with you. You should feel more comfort, even secure knowing they’re there right…? Those thought peered into your mind, you only felt safer for just a few seconds when you realized they were there so why is your heart racing so much? Why is your breathing beginning to get a lot more heavy?

“Babe you okay?” Why was your breathing becoming so much faster? your healthy leg more fidgety? The smell of iron in the air so much more apparent? Louder voices? when did they get here…why is everyone so loud…when did you get on your side? “Why the fuck are they making that sound?!” Kaitlyn said, her gun in her hand, trying to find every excuse she won’t have to use it.

The groaning- no growling coming from you was throwing everyone off track, Jacobs hand on your back wasn’t helping and everyone trying to make sense of it only added to your irritation. If they weren’t already freaked out, the sudden, very loud blood curdling scream you emitted definitely would. Your legs picked yourself up without you even trying to get up, you were practically clawing at your face while trying to figure out any way to stop this sudden overwhelming feeling.

Jacob took it as his sign to back up from you to the others, though everyone freaked when Kaitlyn backed up slightly as she aimed down sights directly at you. “Kaitlyn! what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Jacob snapped “You can’t just shoot him!” Dylan chimes in “Shut up! both of you!” Emma also chimed in. You were merely making whimpers at this point before you finally looked behind you at Kaitlyn, directly in her eyes as a barrel of a shotgun was pointed right at you. “Kaitlyn please for the love of god put the fucking gun down please!” Jacob pleaded, clearly not understanding the situation at hand. Dylan’s quick back-stepping elicited Emma even Kaitlyn to do the same which eventually Jacob followed too.

Your heaving breaths had this disturbing addition to it, a noise almost like reverb which made everyone on edge. Until you quickly returned to loud whining as you fell back to your knees as the clawing at your face was happening again. “R-Run, fuck you guys need to get out!” Your voice now with a disturbing echoing reverb of your voice made way. “Guys let’s just fucking go” Emma demanded, Dylan nodded along with her “What?! We can’t just fucking leave him-“ Jacobs sentence interrupted by your now booming voice “FUCKING RUN, JUST GO AND LEAVE ME ALONE.” You screamed out as Emma practically had to yank Jacob before he even got the chance to think, the others running behind them. “Why the fuck are we leaving he needs fucking help!” Jacob yelled “Did you not see him?! He’s becoming one of those things, Nick did the same shit…kinda but still the same-“

The sudden howl made it all obvious what was happening, Jacobs denial not wanting to believe what you are now, though his thoughts don’t last long before a loud growl through the trees somehow caught up with the group. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck what the fuck is actually happening” Kaitlyn said to herself, Jacob had a cold sweat as his mind put everything in perspective unfortunately. What he didn’t know was the silver bullet cocked into the shotgun. Their run was cut short as you leaped out at them in hopes for your first kill, though you were just barely off Kaitlyn immediately aimed right back at you again.

“Dude it’s fucking y/n, you can’t shoot you just- you can’t.” Jacob begged as his hands were trembling “So what? let him kill us? I can’t just not do anything” Kaitlyn said, her gaze on you for as long as possible, thought her one mistake was staring at Jacob for just that split second. You took the opportunity and ran disturbingly quick at the group, Emma’s screams and Dylan’s panicked screaming for Kaitlyn to shoot brought her focus right back to you.

You…the councilor that everyone felt like they could befriend? the councilor that was that perfect mix of sweet yet sarcastic? The councilor now boyfriend of a pretty yet dumbfounded guy? Kaitlyn can’t shoot, she wouldn’t do that to Jacob. Or at least that’s what Jacob thought. The sound of a shotgun filled the air, Jacobs balled up fists hiding his gaze from you, the others quiet.

The writhing of your newly transformed body tried to fight its way back to life in any way it could, the bullet hole going right through the shoulder. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck this didn’t just happen” Jacob tried to reason with himself as he finally turned just a bit as your now limp body laid on the dirt road. Your limbs twitching as the abnormalities began to slowly revert back to much more of a human look.

Kaitlyn couldn’t help but drop her gun after coming to terms with what she had just done, both of her hands now covering her face out of guilt as she muffled apologies, unable to look anyone in the face. Jacob couldn’t bear what he was feeling as he once again looked away before staring Kaitlyn down, his eyebrows creased with anger. “YOU FUCKING SHOT HIM?!” Jacob screamed taking a step towards her “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU WANT ME TO DO?! LET HIM JUST KILL US? DID YOU?” Kaitlyn retaliated, moving her hands from her face.

Both had red puffy eyes, their voices cracking from fighting with one another. Emma’s lament pulled the two away from one another as she was now next to your body, now back to its human form. Blood pooling beneath your corpse as Emma couldn’t help but weep for what happened. Dylan merely sat, hands around his head trying to contemplate the last few minutes. “This night has to be some fucking nightmare” she cried as her accusation was proven false by just how real your body felt, the blood that covered her hands as she felt your lifeless body.

At this point the two were done fighting, now slowly making way to where you were. It didn’t take long before the four councilors sat next to you, as dangerous as it was with whatever these things roaming the forest were, they couldn’t leave. Let alone Jacob.

His hat somewhere along the dirt, his hand holding yours, begging to feel some kind of sign you’re still alive. Though your lifeless, bloodied eyes only stared at Jacob with lost hope as you breathed your last breath awhile ago.

[protect-namine]

you know, I think neji would enjoy playing dnd. getting to write stories and play characters with no limitations, and having to improv with the other players because he would never have full control of where the story was headed? it would be a dream come true, and also therapeutic. neji would of course be the dm who would "yes and" anything his players want to do. the story would be something everyone has input on and would help shape. an adventure that neji himself couldn't predict or write on his own. also, just imagine him describing his setting and doing all his character voices, he'd love that so much

I think it would be a good exercise for quartz too, because they'd have to make their own characters and backstories and roleplay in character without a script to direct them. especially to kisa "transparent vessel" tachibana, who can act out any character but is afraid of letting herself be seen through them. similarly, kai as well, since he'd be in charge of his own character instead of propping someone else up

on the flip side, fumi would get to enjoy playing a character but not having the pressure to be the lead/spotlight of a story. he's there to play, not perform

sou would also LOVE dnd. I think he'd be really into the character creation and lore, and is probably the next person I can think of who can try being the dm when neji is sick/tired/wants to be a player. he's the player who takes down notes and remembers one small detail neji mentioned four sessions ago that becomes relevant to the current session. neji loves him because sou is the one who appreciates his world building the most

suzu and fumi would instigate so much in the adventure, which neji would love. suzu makes a character everyone loves (like hachipochi) and always brings snacks to the table

fumi has read all of the player handbook, and mitsuki has read maybe a quarter of it (only the relevant parts to his character and how some dice rolls and combat work). mitsuki is also the one who doesn't put much effort into his character's backstory but unexpectedly gets big character development during the adventure, surprising everyone in the table including both the dm and himself

otori is very good at both roleplaying and combat, has created a compelling character, and tries to go on solo adventures but eventually gets roped into the party because he can't adventure alone in neji's setting

[exalok]

reason: the seven resketchings of one smuch cannot hurt you

the rest of me: mournful wailing

[thatonebabybat]

Hey btw having depression is not a requirement for being goth and if you think it is I don't like you. That's a whole chronic illness, not a part of your "goth mindset"/"aesthetic". Please reflect on that.