#what should i call this? pigmented skin?

[amber-tortoiseshell]

do you know why some cats look like they wear dark eyeliner and some dont? i just met the handsomest kitty who looks like he invented the cat eye makeup

My observation now is that dark eyeliner is for eumelanin-based tabbies.

You usually don't see it on solids, red-based colors and whites (or white spotted cats, if the white reaches the eyes).

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: yandere awakening

part two

gn reader

Thinking of having a nullifying cursed technique without knowing it…

Curses, attacks, and techniques have no effect on you—once cursed energy comes into contact within your range, it ceases to exist. You're a human erasure for all things paranormal.

And it’s beyond strange for a certain six-eyed limitless sorcerer...

Gojo sees on a molecular level—it's like converging x-ray and thermal and night-vision into one lens that's both microscopic and telescopic at the same time—he sees energy and atoms—he sees everything, he sees through everything. Nothing escapes. The tiniest shift in someone’s expression indicates exactly what they’re thinking, and he can tell—as if he can read minds even though he can’t. Everything is just so obvious. Everything. Even though he is blindfolded, he can see. All things energy, light, heat, movement, what someone had for lunch, the tiniest vibration in the ground and buildings around him, the slight shift in the wind when a butterfly flaps its wings a mile away. It’s all there for him, laid bare before his many eyes. Everything, and then he bumps straight into you.

It's by no means any powerful encounter—his body is much taller and bigger. It’s rather you who’s dealt an impact, bouncing off and staggering back until falling hard on your ass.

But he’s no less shocked because of it. Something just passed through both limitless and six eyes. An attack from a curse? A technique from a sorcerer? Here? Now? On the open street on his way to buy mochi? No… what’s going on? What on earth was that?

“Ouch—what the? Watch where you’re going! And what’s up with the blindfold, you lunatic!?”

Watch where you’re going, huh… He’s never heard that before. Even stranger, who is speaking? He peels his blindfold up and… wow.

He can see you. No, not like he can see the others around you—passing bodies full of flesh and blood and bones and food. You’re none of that, you’re just a face and body. You have a rumpled expression—sour. He can tell you’re upset, but it’s harder than it’s supposed to be. He has to think about it all on his own. Yes, you’re mad. At him? Yes. You’re mad at him.

You’re mad at him, and yet he doesn’t care. There are more important matters. Like, who the hell or what the hell are you?

“Well?” you state snappily, and yes, it was you who had spoken earlier. “Are you gonna help me up or what?”

He doesn’t know if he should. You’d only touched him indirectly before, through two layers of both of your clothing. What if your skin burns his? What if everything ceases to exist?

He does it anyway.

Reaching down his hand, he holds his breath and recites seconds within his head as if he’s counting down towards the end of the world—one, two, three, and…

It burns. But not in a bad way. But it burns—everywhere all at once—igniting him like a matchstick ripped across the red. It burns, but it feels good. And he realizes he’s felt cold his entire life.

“Uhm, you can let go now,” you drag him out of his discoveries.

He looks away from his grip on your hand and at you, now standing, and wow, really wow… It’s like he’s seeing for the first time. There’s so much he's blind to, and yet, nothing's ever been clearer—the smoothness of skin, the soft differences in its pigment, the vividness of eyes—your eyes. He knows they aren’t, but they’re the biggest he’s ever seen.

“Hey, buddy, are you alright?” you ask now, leaning towards him—a hand on his shoulder, its burning warmth seeping in through his jacket, as the other remains in his. “Is there someone I should call?”

Oh right. He must be acting like an asylum escapee.

“I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. I’m great. I’m Gojo. Satoru Gojo,” one after the other, words leave him as if he’s forgotten how to act normal.

“Okay then—that’s good, uhm, Mr. Gojo.” 

How strange. He can’t tell what you’re thinking at all—in fact, he hasn’t the slightest clue—it’s all a guessing game. It’s as if before, all he needed to do was look at a book to know what was written within, but with you, he actually needs to read. And he's never learned how to.

“Uhm, alright, so I’ll be on my way then—”

“No!” his grip tightens, and you gasp with a jolt, looking at him even wider than before. Shit. “I mean… I’m sorry. I should… I should apologize for walking straight into you. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No, I’m good. It’s really alright. No need to worry. I should really go, though—”

You look positively freaked-out now—if he were to make a purely uneducated guess. You tried pulling your hand to yourself again, and it became more clear—he was making you uncomfortable. But still, he didn’t want to let go. Even with limitless off, nothing had ever felt as good as the contact he was feeling right now. He doesn’t think he can let go. But shit—people are beginning to stare…

“Okay, I’m sorry—” he lets go, and you instantly hurry along with quick steps, shuffling through the crowded street as if you’d just encountered a madman.

Maybe he is. He sure follows after you like one.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[safination]

Darling, I'm an Overlord

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, Dry humping, licking, biting, sucking, foreplay, MINORS DNI

“I could make an offering,” you say, pressing a kiss to where his jaw ends. It’s a simple act to roll your hips down. “…But I think I would prefer to get on my knees and show you how I worship.” Alastor grips your waist, rolling your hips even deeper. “Just a king?” “How about an emperor?” A twitch tells you everything there is to know—it’s still not enough. “More.” “How greedy,” you tell him and tap a stray finger on his belt buckle. “Hmmm, then—How about I worship you like an Overlord?” Alastor laughs, shaking his head but his hips rut upwards to meet you halfway. It’s the smallest of movements, but if forces you to press a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. TLDR: Alastor's worried you'll be late for dinner, but he promised to be patient, and such control deserves an award

This was stuck in my mind and no, I will not continue it but any other author is free to go and complete it. Honestly, not my best work but I think some of you might enjoy it. Tbh, I felt awkward writing it, but that's a whole different can of worm. This is quite short and I wish I could add more, but not really lol. MINORS DNI—NSFW

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

There’s a specific shade of red that Alastor enjoys on your lips. It’s quite the inconvenience to ask a shop to custom make the color every single time the lipstick runs out, but your husband is a man of fine detail. Even the smallest of changes will be noted.

As all things do, this specific pigment will eventually disappear for good. Still, you swipe the color across your lips, painting it red.

Afterall, a special night requires a special look.

“Dearest, we’re going to be late,” Alastor calls out with a smile that shows the yellow of his teeth. There’s a small twitch on his cheek and his fingers impatiently tap on the tip of his microphone, even as he sports an even tone. “The reservation won’t hold for very long.”

You lock his gaze from the reflection of the mirror. “Late?”

“Yes,late.” Alastor brings a hand out, leaning on the bed. There’s a carefully crafted expression of boredom on his face. “We’re going to be late.”

Darling, you’re the Radio Demon–one of the most powerful Overlords in this realm.” You blot your lips on some tissue. “They wouldn’t give away our table, and there’s always the option to kill anyone who complains.”

A muscle on Alastor’s cheek twitches. “Oh my…It seems I’ve been far too complacent if someone would dare to voice their objections to me.”

Lines trail the skirt of your dress, smoothing the wrinkles before presenting it to Alastor. “Tell me what you think, honey,” you say, smiling as you twirl. “Come on–How does it look on me?

“Good,” Alastor says, humming. “Shall we take our leave? I already have your coat.”

You frown, pointing your nose into the air. “Good?” you parrot back. “That’s not good enough. I was aiming for ravishing. I guess I should change.”

“Take your time, my love.” Alastor pinches the bridges of his nose but smiles nonetheless. “Afterall, I specifically said I wouldn’t complain.”

With a laugh, you stride towards him and present your bare back. “A little help?”

“That’s much better,” Alastor says as a claw gently trails up the skin of your back. The tip sends shivers down your spine and straight into your core until he digs the claw on the base of your shoulder. A drop of blood oozes out, trailing down your back. “Now, it’s absolutely ravishing.”

“I meant the zipper,” you say. “If it stains, Niffty will hang your head.”

“My apologies.”

Oh…his tongue is moist. It trails across your skin, painting slow trails across your shoulder to lap the blood. The zipper of your dress zips up before you could fully lose yourself.

You turn to face Alastor, stepping between his legs to place your hands on his knees. It only takes a single but gentle push to widen the space, and your hands keep pushing wider until you’re leaning down to meet his gaze.

“You’ve been doing an exemplary job of hiding your irritation,” you say, and kiss the edge of his lips, lingering for more than a moment. “Such control deserves a reward.”

Alastor takes his thumb, swiping away the streak of red. It only smudges it across his lips. “We have a reservation,” he says but slots you further between his legs with a firm grasp on your hips. “What was the point of making one if we aren’t going to be on time?”

The tip of your tongue swipes across his lips, lapping away the lipstick stain.

Alastor’s eye twitches, and uses a finger to push you back. Instead you open your mouth to suck his finger, swirling your tongue around the skin. It trails from the base of where his palm meets his finger then until his knuckle. The wetness of your tongue licks until it reaches the tip of his pointed claw.

The edges of your teeth nibble on his skin before taking in another finger. Alastor blinks at you as you suck his digits deeper in your mouth, swirling your tongue around to reach the tip then down the knuckle until his claw hits the back of your throat.

You move your tongue upwards from the base, trailing it to lap around the tip of his claw before releasing his fingers with a small pop.

A line of saliva bridges your tongue to his finger.

The palms of your hands trail up his knees, pressing down the plum of his legs. “We’ve been over this, darling,” you tell him, inching closer to press a kiss on the edges of his lips. “Overlord. Radio Demon. Death.”

Alastor catches your wrists, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. “Just an Overlord?”

“Powerful Overlord.” The next kiss goes on his jaw.

“Then how would you give me my reward?” Alastor pulls back, pressing his own kiss on the ring around your finger. “Tell me every detail.”

“I could treat you like a king,” you say, brushing your lips down his jaw. Alastor leans to the side, exposing his neck for another one of your kisses. “

Your hands trail across his dress pants once more, stopping when your knees land on the carpet.

The side of your cheek nuzzles against his leg, and you smile up at him, locking his gaze to your eyes. You press your lips along the inside of his thigh, glazing kiss after kiss after kiss. Still, you keep your eyes staring firm into him, even as Alastor’s leg jumps from the sudden bite of your teeth.

The curve of your nose outlines his leg, and a muscle in his thigh tightens. It loosens and relax when you brush the pads of your thumb up and down.

Alastor crawls back to climb down the bed. A steady hand guides the plush of your thigh, beckoning you to crawl after him. It squeezes when his back hits the headboard. Alastor’s thumb swipes over the inside of your leg and he digs a claw into the skin. This prompts you to throw your legs over him, straddling his hip while leaving room for an erection to grow.

“Tell me how you would treat me like a king.”

“I could make an offering,” you tell him, rolling your hips to stimulate his softened member. The crotch of your lace underwear grinds on him. “...But I think I would prefer to get on my knees, and show you how I worship a king.”

Alastor grips your waist to pull your lower into him, steading you as you rub against him. “Just a king?”

“How about an emperor?”

A twitch pokes your crotch and it tells you everything there is to know–it’s still not enough. Alastor needs … “More.”

“How greedy,” you tell him, trailing your hands down his chest until it reaches his belt buckle. Your fingers tap on the metal over and over and over again. “Hmmm, then–How about I worship you like an Overlord?”

Alastor laughs into the air, breathy as he exhales. Sure, it’s a ridiculous notion…but his hips rut upwards to meet you halfway. The way his clothed tip grins on the crotch of your panties pulls a small gasp tumbling out your lips. It’s the smallest of movements but it forces you to press a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself.

Alastor grunts as he snaps his hips up. The claws on his hand dig into your hip when you grind down on him.

More….It’s not enough. You need mo--

Alastor’s bow tie is crooked. That just won’t do.

You pull on the edges of the fabric, unfastening the knot until it pools between your palms. The pace of your grinding slows as the pads of your finger trail down his arms. It wraps around his wrist, and you bring them to your lips, pressing a kiss on the inside before pulling them together above his head.

Another twitch of his clothed cock. It hits deeper into your core this time, prompting you to lean forward with a breath exhale. Never have you been more glad to be wearing such thing panties. The force of your shifting weight grinds your crotch harder into him. The back of Alastor’s head hits the headboard with a slight jump.

There’s an innocent smile on your lips as you take his bowtie and bind his wrist to the bedframe with a knot. “This looks much better, indeed.”

Alastor pulls on the knot and it unfasted around his wrist. “Are you doing this correctly?”

You keep grinding deeper into his cock until small moans release into the air. The pace of your humping quickens as you re-tie the loose knot around his wrist. 

“Don’t you know, darling? Overlords brim with power,” you tell him, trailing a sharp nail between the buttons of his dress-shirt until it snaps open. “I have to protect this feeble body of mine from such strength.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek with a hum. “How smart.”

“Shall we make a deal, my dearest, darling, Overlord husband?” you say, nibbling the edges of your teeth on his shoulder. 

Alastor snaps his hips up to rut the tip even deeper, forcing you to moan into his skin. Soft breaths brush across. His hands dig deeper into your hips, pulling even deeper as he grinds his cock into your underwear.

“Slow… Fast. It doesn't matter,” you say, and the words come breathier than planned. “I will keep going until the knot holds secure. The moment it slips off, so do I…And I will leave, no matter how close … no matter how desperate.”

Each word brushes your lips on the sensitive spot between the junction of his neck and shoulder. Fabric prevents you from burying yourself deeply around his cock and moving until his hips bruise

Alastor leans backward to chase a greedy kiss, but you lean away with a smile. “..Dearest.”

“But we’re going to be late,” you tell him. “Afterall, reservations were mad--”

Shadow tentacles slither around your body, trailing across your waist and up your breasts. Darkness crawls between them, massaging the soft tissue. It trails higher and higher until it reaches your neck.

 “Oh darling…don’t you know?” Alastor says, and the tentacles pull your head lower until you feel the clothed tip pressing on your lips.

There isn’t much else to do but press your lips, giving his cock the smallest of kisses.

“I’m an Overlord.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Tell me what you guys think! I'm not really used to writing such suggestive pieces lol Sooo some feedback would be nice.

[sporadicthingcollection]

La faccia infarina (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy swears at a child, draws on his face, and experiences a revelation. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~1.4k. Warnings: Pregnancy mention, childbirth mention, a lot of swearing.

A/N: i'm ovulating so please enjoy an episode of what i like to call Reproducing With Men Who Should Not Be Trusted With Children.

Doing his makeup is much easier when there's no distractions to occupy him. Unfortunately, he's got a big one today and, for once, it isn't you trying to get into his pants.

Though that exact scenario is definitely what resulted in this new distraction. It was either that or the time after the party.

"Don't even think about it," Buggy says firmly.

Keeda grabs a drawer and tries to yank it open. A disembodied foot gently nudges him away. The boy stares at him in indignation, then blows a raspberry. He reaches again, whining when the foot still bars his way.

Buggy raises a brow at him. "Getting fresh, huh?" Another raspberry. "Floor privileges revoked."

He picks the boy up by the collar and plops him in his lap. He squeaks and squeals, trying to squirm away, but Buggy holds him tight.

"Y'know, I liked you better when you were a prop," he says. He swipes his lipstick along his cheeks. "You'd just lay there and make noises and shit yourself. None of this 'trying to kill yourself when I'm not looking' shtick."

Keeda resigns himself to his prison and is now pouting, making little huffs. He glances up with big, pleading eyes, lower lip quivering.

Buggy scoffs. "Don't try that pathos crap on me. I know what you look like when you're about to cry."

A long, low whine makes Buggy falter. Uh oh. He glances down.

Keeda lunges upwards, trying to grab the lipstick. Buggy pops his hand off just out of reach -- this is the expensive stuff. Can't have a baby eating it. Again.

"What's gotten into you today?" Keeda lunges again. Buggy pops his second hand off to cap the lipstick and stick it back in the drawer. "Sheesh, kid. Cool it."

"Bappo," Keeda says with a glare. Baby for pay attention to me, asshole, I'm right here.

A lightbulb goes off. He pulls a bag of pigment sticks from the drawer and dumps them onto the table. "You want your face done like Daddy's?" He spins the boy around to face the vanity. "Pick your war paint."

Keeda scans the selection and, with short chubby fingers, he selects a blue pigment stick. He then tries to shove it in his mouth, but Buggy grabs it before he can chomp it.

Buggy smiles as he regards the color. He was wearing this when he met you -- diamonds over his eyes as he tried to kill you. From hating his guts to fucking him stupid to bearing his child. How times change.

He takes the boy's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. He can't believe he's still so damn small. A year in and he figured he'd be more... child-sized. Buggy's still afraid a strong breeze will shatter the kid like glass.

With gentle hands, he draws. Short strokes are best on soft, chubby skin with a lot of give. Keeda gazes at him all the while. He's got your eyes, warm and dark as charcoal.

Buggy licks his thumb and smooths out the edges. Keeda presses into his touch like a cat and gives him a smile, one that he can't help but return.

The idea of fatherhood terrified him. Horrified him. He thought about turning himself into the Marines right then and there. If his old captain couldn't do it, how could he be expected to do it? He's not half as competent as everyone seems to believe and you know he's a buffoon. Why would you want to have his kid?

Buggy finishes the diamonds and spins the boy to face the mirror. "Well?"

Keeda squints at himself. He touches his reflection. After a moment of contemplation, he speaks. "Fsshala."

He's been saying that a lot lately. You keep telling him that it's just nonsense babbling, but Buggy knows the truth.

"I agree," he says. "Let's make it flashy!"

He spins the boy back around, making him giggle. Truly the world's most remarkable sound.

He still doesn't have an answer for why you put yourself through nine months of pure terror. Was it your selfish desire for a family? Or did you see a truth hidden deep in his soul, so deep that he had no idea it existed until he held his son for the first time, still bright pink and howling?

Carefully, he traces two long lines up from the tips of the diamonds. He crosses them at the middle of his forehead, curls them into a heart, and adorns it with dots.

As is, Keeda looks more like you. Your dark hair, your dark eyes... and your nose, thank fucking god. He couldn't live with himself if his monstrosity was inheritable.

He was worried at first. How could he be sure that he's your son's father? He trusts you, but there was always that doubt gnawing at the back of his head until a few months in, when Keeda started getting expressive. In every giggle, in every glower, in every grin, there was Buggy the Clown.

Speaking of smiles, his mouth looks a little bare. A nice golden yellow would suit him.

Buggy picks up the pigment stick in one hand and smushes the boy's cheeks together with the other. "Pucker up, buttercup."

Keeda squirms a bit as he paints his mouth, swirling the corners up into cute little spirals. He licks his lips and sputters. "Pfeh!"

Buggy chuckles. "Weren't like that last week. You loved the stuff." He lifts the boy and spins him around to see his reflection. "Now you're lookin' more like your old man."

Keeda stares at himself. He tips his head one way, then the other. His eyes narrow and his brows furrow. He lets out a low, pensive whine.

Oh no. Does he not like it? Is he going to cry? Please don't cry. "Wait wait wait." He turns him around and lifts him to stand on his lap. "Don't get upset--"

A little spark flashes in the boy's eyes. The frown vanishes and he reaches up, tiny fingers grabbing for something.

Buggy's gotten enough hair ripped out to jerk away on impulse. "Something on my face?"

A tiny hand baps him on the nose. Buggy flinches. Fuckin' thing in the way again.

He angles his head, waiting for Keeda to tap what he was really aiming for. And again, he gets bapped right on the nose.

...no. There's no way.

Another bap, this time with an impatient glower. "Isso," Keeda says firmly. Baby talk for this.

Buggy's heart is in his throat as he picks up the red pigment stick. With shaky hands, he outlines the boy's nose -- a cute little button -- and draws a circle.

He swallows thickly. He clenches his jaw. He turns him around.

Keeda's eyes widen, then scrunch into crescents as he lets out a delighted squeal. "Papa!" he says, grinning up at Buggy. He flops backwards back into his lap, giggling and wiggling. "Papa!"

He's not sure how long he sits there at the vanity, listening to his baby chatter happily, but it must be awhile because you eventually come calling.

"Oh, there you guys are,” you say. "You chuckleheads having fun without me?"

"Amama!" Keeda stands in Buggy's lap and waves at you. He points at the mirror. "Issoooooo."

You appear at Buggy's shoulder, grinning brilliantly. "Aw, look at you," you croon. "Did Daddy do your makeup? Or did you get into his shit when he wasn't looking?"

Buggy's voice comes out in a tight croak. "I did it."

"Well, damn, it looks great! You never do my makeup that well--" Your gaze flickers to him in the mirror, and your smile vanishes. "...Are you crying?"

He sniffles. Loudly. "No."

You give him one of your do-you-need-a-psych-eval looks. "Bugs, your mascara's running."

Something hot and wet rolls down to his chin. "No, it's not."

You look at his reflection in the mirror, then back to him. "Either smile or cry. Doing both is freaking me out."

He wraps his arms around Keeda, pulling him close and squeezing him tight. "Fuckin' love you so much, you little shit," he murmurs into his hair.

Keeda squeals and giggles.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

[sector38]

#NSFW

From Sector: 38

Entry: Ⅰ

Apparently, there was a time when people believed there was an edge to the world - that if you sailed far enough, you'd just fall off the side of the world. I used to find it so funny, I just couldn't understand or comprehend how this world had a definitive end to them

now, I understand.

Sitting at the edge of the sector, the cool metal of the man-made ground pressed against my bare thighs and the cold waters engulfing my feet staring out into the watery abyss.

Technically I wasn’t meant to be there, unless you have a valid pass you're not allowed outside the city walls and considering mine was four days out of date I very much did not want to be caught.

My friends spent their days working, rebuilding our society in miniature while i spent my days sitting at the brink of the universe staring out at the unchanging.

But even if i did work, what would i do? Who would i be? Who could i become?

A reconstructionist? A teacher? A cleaner? A cook?

So Instead I continued to sneak past the guards who can't be much older than me lined up like pawn pieces with faces harder than the boots they wear and sit, stare, soaking up the very thing that left us floating in silent devastation.

I should have brought my watch or my phone it was just that after last time (with me nearly dropping it and all) I thought best not, but now looking at the inky night sky I'm wondering whether that in itself was a mistake. No one is allowed out past curfew (10 pm summer, 8 pm winter) it's too dangerous, too unpredictable.

It's funny, they won't tell us what to be afraid of, and they'll tell us we have nothing to fear then usher us into cages, protection from an invisible entity - an immeasurable enemy.

Still, even I can feel it the shift in the air - the cooling breeze stilted like something holding it back or someone. If I was smarter, I would have left, grimaced at my wet feet in my clean new white socks and black shoes, and slipped in through the city walls -

Except, i was never known for being particularly smart.

Which is why when I saw flashes of colour in the sea instead of running I stayed transfixed - purple and white hues swaying in and out of focus though always remaining in a tight formation, a loose cluster.

They were coming closer to the surface, whatever they were, its colours becoming more pigmented in its hues, its actions becoming more assured and targeted: it was coming for me.

I was frozen, completely and utterly frozen - I couldn't scream or speak, I couldn't even breathe. The only assurance that I hadn't turned to stone was the sounding of my beating heart - and even then, I couldn't place the organ. I felt its ricochets in my throat and stomach but heard it like a gunshot stretched out through time.

A cold encircled my ankles, a loose grip coiling around me, barely touching me. The tenderals, if I can call them that climbed up my body till they poked through the surface of the water and wrapped themselves against my lower thighs.

Now i could see it: long tentacles sprouting from a cluster deeper in the waters - the purple skin translucent inside faint veins iridescent colours shimmering like solar systems from a far of place. The ends were elliptical, curved like she shell of an egg as if blown from molten glass.

My hands once frozen by my side reached out gently to touch the head of the tentacle closest to me - gently i lifted my shaking fingers stopping them in front of the strange creature. With careless inhibition it slithered along my fingertips till it rested in my palm, feeling its weight in my hand and the soft integument.

For a while, the world was just this - just me staring at this creature that seemed to hold each star dead and dying under its skin but then i felt it - the tentacles slight grip on my upper thigh, not as though it was trying to pull my into the waters but instead as though it was searching for something.

The tentacles began to pulse, gently and softly like the humm of birds on a summer night - gentle but unequivocally present before a voice clear yet distorted rung through my mind:

Do not be afraid

then they slipped under my short black skirt.

As if a trance had broken i gasped, dropped my hands in haste and so the head of the tentacle which once occupied a place in my palm opting to try and push my body up and away from the waters and its presence.

But it was too late.

I'd been too distracted, so stupid and curious i didn't notice just how many tentacles had wrapped themselves around me lower body - sensing my resistance they only seemed to hold on tighter tendredals slipping further and further up my inner thighs till they rested over my pastel pink panties.

The tentacle which lay in my hand curled around my wrists like an armlet - as though i was a forgotten pharaoh.

The head of the tenderal under my skirt began to pulse against my underwear, pushing slightly against it dampening the material.

Its words like a ping pong ball bounced around my head, the once empty space echoing its words over and over as its intrusion continued.

They didn't tell us much about the monsters that came with the flood but they did tell us some things of of which being all of them have at least a three percent intelligence increase between them and us. It never meant much to me didn't mean anything that these monsters had minds far superior to beings - i was more confused with how they came about this knowledge.

With which lucky team of xenozoologists gathered them up and spoke to them, communicated them.

I wonder what they would say now, how they would stare down at me in their long white lab coats and tightly pulled back hair as this elderitch creature hummed against my skin.

Do not let your mind wander

The tentacles gripped me wrists tighter, sometime ago they had captured my either wrist as well truly any thoughts of escape which may have entered my mind were banished. The other tentacle began to nudge more incessantly at my underwear - in this moment i couldn't understand how this creature was supposed to be more intelligent than me, no five percent more intelligent than our most intelligent human? And yet it couldn't figure out how to take off my panties? It wasn't like the material was so expensive that they couldn't easily break, with one strong tug they would fall into the waters, floating over the face of the deep blue before perhaps sinking or maybe just continuing to float.

It was then that a feeling overcame me - i hate to say it but it was like the rush of a wave, like the sudden feel of cold water on hot skin and salty water hitting the back of your tongue. It was like a perfect cocktail of euphoria, clarity and anticipation. I understood then all that i could have known.

It wasn't that the monster didn't know how to take of my panties, it wanted me to need it to.

I bit my lip, drawing blood in haste covering a moan that threatened to slip from my lips at the thought - the tang of iron coating my tongue and cheeks, probably dying my teeth.

Silently in my own mind i whispered "please" and that was all it took before it was ripping my underwear of my body and spreading my legs slightly a part with the force and care of a determined lover.

Smaller, colder tentacles the width of my fingers emerged from the waters and gently stroked my entrance - the suddenness and the low temperature had me writhing but the thicker tentacles stopped me from shifting too far from its touch.

Like tongues they flicked slowly against my now pulsing clitoris, heat resting heavy at the bottom of my stomach like a sunken stone. My head threw back in bliss and as my mouth parted to let out a moan a tentacle head filled my mouth - the head was slightly longer than those which had made themselves a home around my wrists and much thicker than those which currently were lapping at my swollen clit.

My mind was in a haze, nipples hardening against my shirt as my eyes oscilated between staring at the sentient monster or the stary firmament above.

I could feel my body becoming hotter, desperate for more contact as i began to push myself closer towards the small tendrils in spite of the tight grip they had on me.

As if sensing my eagerness the beast emerged more tentacles now wrapping around my large breasts, squeezing on them and instantly wetting my shirt. If not for the appendage humming pleasantly in my mouth i have no doubts i would be moaning loud enough to alert the guards.

As if attempting to milk me the tentacles grew more ferocious with their onslaught on my chest, pulling and squeezing till the white buttons popped off my shirt and into the night waters. Rushing forward smaller tentacles once again arose now pressing against my nipples the cold sensation doing nothing for my sweltering internal body temperature.

please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please please, please, please,please, please, please, please, please, please,please, please, please

My mind repeated over and over and over, each plea cluttering my mind till my brain was nothing but a palimpet of want and desire. Thankfully the creature from below was one of compassion.

In front of me the tentacle which once nudged against my nipples opened like a blossoming flower with five petal like shapes and in the centre a white glow, whiter than the sclera of an eye or the color of a cloud no this was a white that almost blinded me almost as white as the sun itself or atleast surrounded by the dark night mind and eyes clouded by lust it was.

They forged forward attaching themselves on my nipples sucking on them like the wet, endless cavity they were before the ones which once flicked against my clit did the same.

The waves on the water began to stir pushing and pulling the fabric of itself apart, before one final tentacle emerged. The appendage sporuted from the water till the tip reached far above my head, floating in front of me the out of water length must have been half my height. Aside from its length it was thicker than all the others by far, the thickness of it being comparable to my (still bound) wrists.

Slowly it bent down before sliding along the metal grounds of the sector nudging against my thighs as it slithered from side to side though still pluging forward like a snake, it was then that i understood its plan

It meant to be inside of me.

It stopped just outside my entrance, gently prodding and nudging again my tight opening, against the tentacle in my mouth i let out a tiny whimper eager and wanting.

Galvanised by my voice coated and dripping in hot want and sticky desire the tentacles holding my thighs and arms lifted me up into the air so i was floating above the metal and the water.

Then i felt it press against me, forcing its way in, as the movements of the tendredals on my breasts and clitoris began sucking more volatile with the tentacles around my breasts squeezing still at even pace, unceasing and unwavering.

Finally it pushed itself in me pressing tightly against my walls but still everceasing in its pursuit - from this angle i could see it losing itself in me and the bulge of my stomach as it pressed inside me.

It was all too much, too much pressure inside of me and outside of me and not to mention the sounds:

The wet squelching, the constant hum of its skin, the disrupted water thrashing against the creature, and my own dampened moans.

As if sensing i was near the creature quickly removed it's appendage from my once filled hole before plunging in without even a beat of rest - my eyes widened and rolled to the back of my head as it repeated the process till i could feel the pressure building inside the appendage of the creature.

Then the the tentacles in my mouth began to mirror it, moving in and out my mouth though slightly more slowly still which each thrust going deeper till i felt it rest on the back of my mouth and then dip into my throat.

The tears which welled in my eyes spilled out over my face and ran down my blushed cheeks before falling silently joining the larger body of water.

I'd been trying so hard, to do or be what I don't know: to be good, to be quiet, to pay attention but in the end, all it took was two words, not even spoken just two telepathically echoed words:

Let go.

And my body was gently convulsing like electricity was being struck through every vein the heat that pooled in my stomach spread snd rushed throughout me - but the creature didn't stop, didn't show any signs of ceasing fucking into me past the point or orgasm and then past the point of overstimulation till it began to plunge more erratically with more fever and less elderitch strategy.

Then i felt the sensation of being filled, as it fucked into me a thick white but translucent substance was pushed into me filling my already swollen belly and then the same substance was filling my mouth.

Its taste was like the smell of rained earth and sugar cubes and fresh whole milk and lavender i swallowed it lapping it up. I felt it begin to retreat but the taste was addictive i began to suck on the appendage feeling it twitch relentlessly in my mouth though ultimately keeping its place inside me as i sucked and swallowed.

The tentacles and tendrils which once held their place on my breast and clitoris slowly pulled away back into the sea as the once which held my thighs and wrists lowered my gently onto the groud with my back against the metal.

I gave one last suck to the tentacle before allowing it to leave my warm, wet mouth and giving it a final lick.

I barely watched it sink back into the ocean, mind and body to fucked out to even think of moving instead content to stare up the flickering stars feeling the warm goo seep out of me as the slight bulge of my stomach deflated.

The last thing I heard before I submitted to the gentle daze of my inner world, and it submerged itself back into its underworld:

See you soon

[akutasoda]

Hihi! Can I pretty please request Dazai with an s/o who has a healing ability that bypasses No Longer Human? Like, Dazai cannot nullify the healing ability like every other ability. Can I also pretty please request Fyodor with a fem s/o who has albinism? (I'm a girl with albinism lol)

that's what makes you unique

synopsis - how are they when their s/o has a unique ability/trait

includes - dazai, fyodor

warnings - gn!reader - implied fem in fyodor's, fluff, slight crack, wc - 396

osamu dazai ★↷

↪he always joked about at first. when you saw him get injured time and time again you insisted he let you try and heal him but he would laugh and say that no matter how much he'd want you to, you couldn't.

↪but you weren't so deterred. in truth you weren't so sure yourself that your ability wouldn't be nullified but you wanted to atleast try.

↪you wanted to try for his sake. but everytime you brought it up he'd laugh and say that it was impossible. say that his ability would cancel it out the minute you touched him.

↪but you wouldn't let up. everytime you offered and everytime he denied. but eventually you'd convince him, whether it was to heal a small injury or he had no other choice in battle.

↪the look on his face the moment he saw your ability activate despite you touching him was one you had engraved into your mind. he truly was in disbelief.

↪you were rather happy that you could help him and he was overjoyed himself. no longer would he actually have to seek out a hospital when injured, he could come to you. the person he trusted most.

↪ although sometimes you'd wish it didn't work. those times were when you couldn't give him much attention due to you being busy so he took it upon himself to dramatically burst into your office.

↪ he'd claim he was deeply hurt and only you could fix him, but you both knew it was his excuse for you to pay him attention.

fyodor dostoevsky ★↷

↪ he would show it no interest at first. why should he. he's already deemed you someone he'd allow himself to be in a relationship with so whatever you looked like bared no intrest to him.

↪but if you managed to squeeze out his real opinion, he'd say it was rather beautiful. no matter what you look like he'd think you were stunning but there was something more beautiful about it.

↪but he also was well educated and knew that albinism mainly affected not only skin and hair pigments but eyesight.

↪so if you were one of the unlucky ones and had developed such problems he'd make sure you would take any medication you needed.

↪call him a hypocrite, but he only had your best inteest at heart.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hiiii! Could u do Tim Bradford with “He want lipstick, lip gloss, hickeys too” plss. Tysm

On rare nights Tim requires a little more from you. He’s spent his entire life in the service of other people, sometimes he just needs someone to take care of him, to make him feel loved, wanted. You sense that in him this evening, the desire for something more specific. It’s in the expression on his features, his body language. He gets a little soft, a little clingy, like he can’t stand the thought of not touching you.

“Tell me.” You whisper as you straddle his lap. “Tell me what you need tonight.”

He swallows hard as he looks up into your eyes because vulnerability doesn’t come easily to Tim, it never has.

“You’re safe with me.” You remind him, your fingertips trailing along his jaw. “You can ask me for anything.”

“Mark me.” He murmurs against your lips. “Lipstick, love bites I don’t care. I just need to feel like I’m yours.”

You know where this stems from. The two of you were at a bar tonight, Tim had stepped away for a couple of minutes to take a call and come back to find Richards from Robbery Homicide chatting you up. The other man was a star on the rise, you’d just finished up working a case with him…

Tim’s not an insecure man but there was something about the way detective looked at you that just made something in his chest ache. He’d carried it with him on the way back home because sometimes he thinks you should be with someone better than him, someone more charismatic, less surly.

He watches as you reach over to the nightstand and pick up the gold Dior lipstick that you’d placed there this morning. You uncap it, before applying the red pigment carefully over your lips. There’s a sensuality in the gesture and for a moment he’s mesmerised as you purse your lips together and pout.

“Better?” You ask quietly and he nods before tilting his head away from you, baring his throat.

Your lips brush over his pulse point and his breathing hitches, your teeth graze that perfect little spot and his grip on your thighs tightens just a little.

“Harder.” He mutters and the noise he makes when you bite down…

Christ it’s perfect.

You take your time with him, guiding him back amongst the sheets as you leave a trail of red lipstick marks down his body. When you pause to reapply, he whines a little, but you shush him, reassuring him with a light nip to his thigh.

He looks stunning underneath you, all that hard muscle decorated with your marks. Some of them will bruise tomorrow, marring his skin for days in the aftermath and he relishes the idea of wearing the evidence of your love for him underneath his uniform.

The tension ebbs from his muscles and he finds himself relaxing into the mattress. The exhaustion he’s been feeling lately, the burn out that takes it’s toll it starts to float away. When you reach his cock, he’s hard, it’s a physiological reaction to how good you make him feel but the truth is mentally he’d tired. It’s not the sex he craves, it’s the intimacy.

“Not tonight.” He mumbles cupping the side of your face. “I don’t have it in me.”

You understand in that moment it’s not about you, that it’s about him. It’s about feeling a sense of relief without having to give a part of yourself away. You’re the only person who has ever got that part of him, the only one who can truly deliver what he needs.

You kiss your way back up his body and Tim smiles softly, his thumb trailing over the shape of your mouth.

“Thank you.” He whispers and you can see in his eyes that it means the world to him that you aren’t taking something from him tonight.

“Sleep.” You say softly, your lips brushing over his. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”

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@malindacath @anime-weeb-4-life @burningpeachpuppy @viridianphtalo @vermillionwinter @redpool

[meowcatsposts]

Perfect [Neteyam]

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: reader is an albino omatikaya & neteyam is probably OOC

@tiddieshakeshownu, I hope you enjoy :)

Overview

Being born different, things don't go so smoothly for you

("Outcast is all they see" frfr)

So you learned to stay in the shadows

But Neteyam always finds you

You were born different. 

Your skin–a pale baby blue, void of the rich pigment forest Na’vi usually had. It burned easily, too; you couldn’t stay beneath the blazing sun. “Useless,” the hunters would say. Useless. 

Your hair–white as snow, that shines smoothly beneath any light. Children would flock around to touch it��some in awe, most in mockery. A few were mean enough to pull it, calling you, “Skxawng! Skxawng!” over and over and over. 

Your eyes–an icy blue, from the lack of pigment. Like your skin the sun was their enemy, its bright rays nearly blinding you. And, unsurprisingly, they cursed you with clumsiness during your early years. Tripping over roots and gripping onto branches for dear life you were, often the source of other childrens’ amusement.

One day, you returned home shaking, biting tears at bay; you were a hair's breadth away from the snapping sharp maws of nantang, after all! That wasn’t even the worst part; the other children set you up. Their jeering, high-pitched laughter still rang in your ears, no matter how hard you tried to drown them out. How you would’ve loved to jump into mother’s arms, to tell her just how cruel your own people were. How you would’ve loved to tell father about those scary-looking wolves, cornering you between a dark rocky crevice. 

Sadly, that wasn’t so.

As you scaled the Hometree you heard hushed whispers; among them was your mother’s. 

“Will (Y/N) ever be able to ride an ikran?”

Then your father’s. “...fragile…don’t know…”

Fragile.

Something burned deep in the pit of your stomach and you wretched, but nothing came out. 

Night was your only option. No sun to blister your skin. No one to push you off the edge. Only at night could you forget everything else and focus on the beautiful world that was so cruel during the day. It was dangerous, sure, but you fared better. Limb by limb, meter by meter, you soared across winding branches and leaped across slippery slopes, paying no mind to the soft looming shadows of night. 

Eywa always lit a path for you. Always.

Long ago, a seed sprouted in your heart and it grew and grew and grew until its thick roots spread so much that your heart cracked and splintered and shattered. Those fragile broken pieces you stowed away in a box, somewhere no one could find–somewhere no light would shine. When no one was around, you glued those pieces back together, slowly and painstakingly, one by one, under the Pandoran night. No one should be able to find you deep in the forest, mending your broken heart–should.

“Neteyam?” you whispered. Your eyes blew wide; how did he know where you were at this ungodly hour? A moss patch, glowing blue-green, winded out and away from under his feet.

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hard cold ice encased your heart. You quickly shoved your broken pieces back into their shabby box and faced Neteyam with a cold, doubtful gaze. “Do you want something?” 

Now it was his turn to be surprised–baffled, even. 

“What…?” he spluttered. He was growing nervous, you could tell. His heart was thrumming. “I…was just wandering around and found you here…so I was wondering what you were doing.”

Not really convincing, was it? He was lying, probably. But it wasn’t so; Neteyam opened your eyes to so many things. 

Pandora was beautiful at night. Everything glowed so prettily; even the animals came out to play. You giggled softly to yourself as you saw a bunch of kenten spin around and around, disk-wings unfurling like glowing umbrellas. A pack of nantang pups scampered along the ground, lighting up bright patches of moss in the wake of their paws and you smiled, hearing them yip around. Every night Neteyam chuckled beside you, his laughter spreading from his lips to your lips, and you didn’t feel so lonely anymore. 

“Go, leave. Now.”

Neteyam was always there, somehow, when you were in trouble. He’d bare his teeth at those mean kids and afterwards, he’d take you on fun little shady adventures under big ferns and tall trees to cheer you up, and before you knew it, you were smiling–smiling!–and Neteyam would be grinning, too.

You gushed to your parents about a handsome boy who was so kind and caring and wonderful, and Neteyam, too, quietly told his parents about a beautiful Na’vi who had shimmering silk for hair and pretty skin like the skies. 

He couldn’t understand why you called yourself a freak; it shattered his heart when you did.

“Sometimes I wish I was born different.”

One particular night the moon shone so beautifully, so radiantly. Everything seemed to glow just a little brighter, just a little more prettier. It was so serene tonight, but it wasn’t so, and you blamed yourself for this. Your soft sniffles carried through the wind and into Neteyam’s ears, and he bounded to you in an instant. His markings glowed a pearly white-blue under the night, and you smiled weakly, seeing the boy in all his beauty. He was skilled and handsome and kind and sweet; why was he rushing to comfort you? 

“Don’t cry.” He hushed you with such sweetness that your heart melted into something gooey and warm–it scared you. Then with his thumb he gently swiped the hot tears streaming down your cheeks, never minding how wet his hands got. You nearly flinched; why so kind? 

“Look,” he whispered, jabbing a finger to his chest, yellow eyes all wide and silly and desperate–oh how he hated to see you cry. “You might not see it, but I’m different, too–part demon, some assholes say.” He paused, biting his lip to suppress a hopeful grin. “We can be different together.”

A sliver of a smile creeped up your lips. Different. Together.

Then Neteyam murmured in that hushed-excited whisper, “Here, come closer,” and held out his arms to beckon you into a hug. Timidly and shamefully you scooted a little forward, wiping furiously at your eyes.

“Look at me. Please?” He wanted so badly to tell you how stunning your eyes were, how pretty your smile was. He wanted to give his eyes to you, just so you could see how radiant you truly were–but now wasn’t the time, he could tell.

So he gently bumped foreheads with you, closing his eyes. You closed yours, too. Then slowly, timidly, his hands oh so softly cupped your face as if he were telling you, “Stay, don’t go.” As more tears stung your eyes you rested your shaky hands atop his larger ones, feeling his warmth spreading to your fingers. It was just him and you now, glowing under the moonlight; you thought you could feel his breath on your lips. 

“I see you,” he murmured softly. “Perfect.”

blue dividers by: firefly-graphics

[milkiematcha]

jjk zombie au: preview

warnings: mention of suicide, blood, general zombie-ness

“Please.” His voice was pained, rasping from the back of his throat like the growls of the monsters banging on the door. He was on his knees, looking up at you with white eyes- no pigment, no pupil, just milky white covering what used to be one of his best features.

The sight made your stomach turn. Especially because, thinking back on it, you had no real idea what his eyes looked like.

“Don’t let me die like this.” Are those tears dripping down his cheeks, melding with the rainwater and blood dripping from his hair, or is it your brain playing tricks on you?. He grabs at your wrist, and his skin is cold. Too cold.

You stumble back, your back almost hitting the metal door behind you before you stop yourself. Something about the look on your face must have been so horrible that it sent him into a panic, his words melding together into something that sounded closer to a scream. 

As if possessed, your hand was moving, flicking at the safety of the gun and aiming. Square at his forehead, the perfect angle. Just like the way you’d trained yourself. Just like you’d done a million times, blowing the brains of mindless drones onto concrete floors and city streets. But he wasn’t a mindless drone, he was him.

How could you do this to him?

His hand grasped at your wrist, just as cold as before, but stable. Cold, but holding you the same way you had experienced so many times, his whole hand wrapping easily around your wrist and keeping you grounded. But now, instead of steadying you as he ran, he was holding a gun to his own head.

“Please.” His voice was barely audible, breaking before he got to the end of the word. “I love you, don’t-”

His lips are parted when the bullet enters his brain, but it seem like he lasts a moment before hitting the ground. His mouth closes, settling into a half smile. How many times have you seen that expression before?

You feel the cold barrel of the gun against your own head, pressing into the skin, and you take a gasping breath. The banging is louder now, throbbing in your skull as his blood spreads, reaching your shoes.

Do you pull the trigger?

You groan, turning onto your side to grab at the ringing phone next to you. The light blinds you for a moment, sending you retreating back into your blankets with a whine.

An unknown number.

Really? According to the far too bright time in the top corner of your phone, it’s just past three in the morning. There is nothing- not even a death in the family- important enough that an unknown number should be ringing your phone at three in the morning. 

You turn your phone to silent, and turn back onto your side.

Thirty minutes later- then an hour- then an hour and a half, and you’re still squeezing your eyes shut, trying to fade back into whatever eerie dream you were having earlier. Shooting a blurry faced man was, well, in terms of your dreams, unique. Usually, they were shitty deja-vu moments, like flashing forward into the cereal isle only to notice that they were out of cheerios. Not that you ate cheerios(the texture when they sat in milk too long was sickening), but still. Shitty foresight, or maybe just your brain hearing about a cheerio shortage and processing it.

You were starting to get hungry, thinking of standing in a grocery store. You’re supposed to go tomorrow- today, actually, thanks to Mr. No-Name, and you were already anticipating buying a chocolate bar. Or two. Maybe Diana would want one, and you could but popcorn and have a crappy movie night on the beat up couch. 

You hadn’t heard Diana come in, actually. Usually, she’d stomp in with her boots half laced, loudly slamming doors just past midnight and making plain ramen. No flavor packets or anything, just boiled noodles. 

The sicko.

You turned to your phone, tapping your password in only to be greeted with the fact that you are wrong. The second time it works, much to your annoyance, and you immediately click to your calls.

15 missed calls from Unkown.

Okay, what the hell.

3 new voicemails from unknown.

A pit settles itself in your stomach, nausea crawling unexpectedly up your throat. Who is so insistent on calling you this late? Your finger hovers above the button that plays through your voicemail box, and for some reason, you can’t seem to press it. 

[tw1l1te]

Ask: Soft Yandere Hyrule?

Hyrule is under appreciated. Let's give him some lovin'!

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

He sat on the carpet, watching you as you painted on a piece of parchment. He doesn't know how long he's been sitting there, watching you, but he didn't care. He could die in the same position that he was sitting in right now and he'd be happy. Absolutely euphoric.

"Rulie, could you pass me the green?"

"Of course, Flower."

You blush at the name, regardless of the hundreds of times he called you that.

He hands you the small tube, your fingertips on his skin erupting him in flames. Even the smallest touches or bits of attention on him sent him to heaven. You were every sense of the word.

You returned painting on the parchment, stray locks of hair falling from your up-do. His hand twitched, wanting to tuck the hair behind your ear, but he would distract you from your masterpiece, so he stayed put.

The others were in the room, no doubt watching you paint as well how dare they even exist in the same universal plane as you, but you paid them no mind, hyperfocused on painting.

You stopped your movements, a small frown on your face. What's wrong? Do you need something? Are you tired? Is he distracting you? Are the others bothering you? Should he-

"Rulie, can I paint on your skin? This paint is safe to use on skin, it's made from plant pigments."

He didn't care if the paint was made from the blood of Hylia, he'd let you paint anything on him.

"Of course, you don't have to ask. Where do you want to paint?"

"Your arm?"

Without a word, he pulls up his sleeve, exposing his forearm to you. He watches as you dip the paintbrush into a deep teal, brushing off the excess droplets back into the paint jar.

How did even the most minuscule actions that you did seem so... angelic? So perfectly executed?

"Stay still, Rulie. I want this to look perfect."

It already does.

You painted in small strokes, tickling the small hairs on his arm. From his angle, he couldn't tell what you were trying to create, but he knew you'd shape it into something no less than flawless. You always did, regardless of how critical you were of yourself and your abilities.

His eyes never left your form, taking in your effortless beauty, even if you were still in your sleepwear.

He practically melted at the scent of you, light notes of violets and vanilla, a scent that he always associated with you.

"And.... done! What do you think, Rulie?"

He looks down at his arm, jaw dropping in awe at your piece.

It was a landscape of his Hyrule, the edge of the work littered with small violets.

Your favorite flower and his home, created on his own skin.

"Thank you, I... love it. I love you"

You give him a smile that sends him spiraling, hands clapping together.

"I'm so glad! You're my masterpiece now, Hyrule."

Your words echoed in his mind.

You're my masterpiece.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

[omg-snakes]

I just wanted to check - there are albino corns, right? I know there are Snows and Blizzard morphs. Snake Discovery did a corn snake hatching vid recently and seemed to think there were no albino corn snakes, so I was a little confused. (They also didn't know the difference between Tessera, Motley, and Stripe though so I think they are just generally uninformed)

Hey friend!

I think the source of confusion here is that the term "albino" is a colloquialism developed for humans that doesn't totally work for reptiles.

The root Latin word, albus, just means "white." The term albino was originally coined by Portuguese and Spanish colonizers (boooo!) to refer to the children of Black slaves who were born without melanin. It then went on to describe any animal without pigment, particularly the black pigment melanin, which resulted in white hair, pink skin, and pink or very light blue eyes.

As science marched on and we gained a better understanding of how genetics and pigment work, we came to realize that there are multiple pigments at play in most animals. Even humans, whose main pigment is melanin, have two different kinds of melanin which result in the rich diversity of skin tones across the human species! Albinism works as a descriptor for humans because we only have melanin, but it falls apart fast when we start applying it to other forms of life.

So in corn snakes there are three main pigments: melanin (black), erythrin (red), and xanthin (yellow).

An amelanistic, or Amel, corn snake is by definition an "albino" with no melanin and red eyes. But they look like this:

That doesn't exactly look white...

If we're looking for white snakes to call albino, a Snow corn snake has amelanism and anerythrism in combination, but they still have yellow xanthin pigment. A Blizzard, on the other hand, is a combination of amelanism and a slightly different mutation called Charcoal that removes both erythrin and xanthin. By the original intent of the word, a Blizzard would probably be an "albino" but a Snow might not fit the bill. Or might, depending on who's deciding, since they technically lack melanin!

To bring up another example of pigment mutations, leucism is the absence of all pigment, not just melanin. This mutation is most commonly found in birds and reptiles. Leucism and albinism look similar, and the mutations do similar things from a "looking at animals on the outside" perspective, but they're genetically distinct from each other!

It falls into semantics and discourse, so I think the easiest way to go about it is to think of albinism as a blanket term to describe a range of genetic color morphs found in mammals, but not a scientific description of what's actually happening. We could probably skip using it to describe reptiles because even when it's technically applicable, it's not the whole story.

I'll end this by saying that YouTubers in general are entertainers, not educators, and I don't think I'd take anything any of them say seriously unless they're providing references. Snakes are a huge and diverse group of lifeforms, and even if one were to know every detail there is to know about one species, that knowledge may only tenuously apply to even a similar-looking species.

This is exactly why exotics veterinarians are expensive and why you should treat them very kindly and with a great deal of respect.

[sailorangelwrites]

Alastor x Overlord!Reader One-Shot - I Won't Play your Games, Radio Man

Synopsis: Being an overlord is boring, but boredom is nothing new for you. You never expected that a meeting of the overlords, of all things, would bring excitement, danger and passion to you in the form of the radio demon...

Notes: SFW, mentions of violence but nothing too explicit, non-gendered reader, apathetic reader, the reader can stand up for themself

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I Won't Play your Games, Radio Man

After everything that had happened in the land of the living, you had no hope of reaching heaven. You couldn't remember the last time you had much hope for anything, though.

Looking at your crimson surroundings, you couldn't help but wonder what your afterlife had in store for you. Hell looked like a regular human city, just a lot more... gory and shameless. But you could handle the gore, and the shamelessness was easy enough to ignore, so you decided to explore. What took some getting used to were the odd-looking residents. Souls were... peculiar looking things, you discovered.

There was no point in dwelling on the surface-level matters, you decided. You needed a weapon.

You yearned for the steady, cool weight of a knife in your hand, the same way an artist yearned for pigment, the same way a writer yearned to give their words form. There were many tools to your trade, but a knife would be the simplest to acquire, with the added benefit of easy concealment.

As you thought about holding a knife in your hand, you felt a buzzing beneath your skin. Power. You could identify it through instinct alone. In your hand appeared a knife - black, made from a material you couldn't place.

A convenient power. One that you could get used to.

It didn't take much for you to fall back into the swing of things. You met a man in a bar. A gang of imps had stolen money from him. You tracked them down, retrieved the money, and handed the gentleman the gang leader's horns for good measure.

Word got out. You never had a shortage of customers. And once you had gotten your hands on some angelic steel, things could only escalate.

Business got a lot messier, but for every soul laid to permanent rest your notoriety grew. Sometimes, on nights where you had little to do yet so much emptiness inside, you would walk into the neverending turf wars and start slicing through the participants. Sinners would beg and offer their souls to you on a silver platter.

Who were you to decline their kind offers?

Overlord. That was what they started to call you. You should have felt accomplished, but you didn't. You didn't feel anything at all.

When was the last time you had felt anything?

You truly couldn't remember. In between the mindless slaughter, the exchange of souls and goods, you found yourself wondering if you would ever feel anything even remotely human.

One day, a small demon held out an envelope to you. The thing was sweating bullets, so you took the letter quickly, waving it away. As you opened it with a careful claw, the lesser demon scampered away in a pathetic display. Killing it might have been a kindness - it clearly wasn't cut out for the harsh environment it had condemned itself to.

However, you let it leave, and focused on the letter. It was inviting you to an overlords' meeting.

You went, if only to alleviate some of the boredom you had been suffering through.

The other overlords eyed you with what could only be described as hunger.

Could they overpower you? Could they push you out from the top? Could they subjugate you and steal away your infamy?

You kept your head high and refused to meet their discerning gazes.

"Greetings, Hell's sovereign overlords..." Carmilla began, before launching into the briefing.

Extermination statistics, turf wars, troublemakers to be dealt with...

All so very boring. You half listened and chose to observe your peers.

Each one was stranger than whoever was sitting next to them, in their own right. Their attentions were no longer focused on you. They had drawn their conclusions, which were, quite frankly, none of your business.

However, one demon continued to stare at you. Burning red eyes, thin grey skin, and a jagged smile that looked like it hurt. You met his gaze and saw the smile deepen.

Challenging. Amused. Hungry.

It was purely predatory. Something about that thrilled you - you felt it in your stomach, the conflicting urges to run and to lunge at him.

Carmilla finished up the meeting. Everyone was standing up and walking away. You glanced away from the man and to the door.

That was a mistake.

When you looked back his seat was empty.

"Why hello there, my esteemed colleague! I have heard a great many things about you down the old grapevine, so I am positively thrilled to have a chance to meet you in the flesh!"

His voice was heavily filtered, and even when he spoke he somehow managed to maintain that sharp, menacing smile. And somehow, he was behind you. How had he managed that? You had only looked away for a split second, you hadn't even heard him move.

You stood up from your chair and took a step back from him. "I haven't heard about you," you responded, keeping your tone neutral.

The overlord's expression twitched and a pop of static filled the air. Any trace of irritation was wiped away as he took a step toward you, coming far too close for comfort. "Is that so? Such a pity. There isn't a cultured demon in all of Hell who hasn't heard of the radio demon."

"Then I must not be very cultured," you said.

A laugh track roared as the 'radio demon' put an arm around your shoulders. You couldn't help the low growl that escaped you at the contact. His eyes narrowed at that, but he didn't comment on the sound.

"Fortunately there are remedies for such an affliction," he told you, walking you out of the room. You felt trapped but didn't dare to lash out. A part of you wanted to see where the interaction would go - to get a glimpse into the mind of the other overlord.

His face turned towards yours, uncanny grin wide and far too close as he said, "Those who are uncultured are simply out of tune with the arts. Perhaps a tour of my radio station is in order, hm? What do you say?"

A trap.

"I may be uncultured," you started, "but I know that it's frowned upon to go off with strange men."

"It would be a shame to incur frowns," the man said with a hum. "Oh well, another time! That certainly changes things... Oh well, you will find that I can be quite adaptable."

"How admirable," you deadpanned.

"Aren't I just?"

He led you into the elevator, still far too close, but now there was nowhere to run.

You could summon a blade or a gun, but you knew that wasn't a good idea. The only tool you could safely use were your words, but even that could go south. Still, you decided to be blunt and say, "If there's something you need, just come out with it."

"To the point, I see," he said with a chuckle. "Very well. I wanted to propose a game, of sorts."

"I have little time for games," you said, though the possibilities began to run wild through your mind.

Something fun. Something to break up the boredom. A chance to beat this smarmy, smiling overlord.

"You ought to make time for games, my friend. This afterlife of ours can get terribly boring without some form of sport... Though I can see the novelty has already worn off for you. You really should smile more, my dear!"

"The novelty was never there to begin with," you answered truthfully.

"Such a shame! Yes, indeed, I must find a way to bring some passion to your weary soul!"

The elevator reached its destination, opening to a back alley. You stepped out before the man could continue puppeteering you.

This was your chance to get away. But this had been the first interesting interaction you'd had in a while...

"What sort of game did you have in mind?"

A muffled crowd cheered as the man flew over to you, invading your personal space once more. "Something right up your alley! A battle of wit, strength, and charisma!"

"That doesn't sound like something-"

"Whichever one of us can secure the most deals within a day will be the victor," he said, steamrolling over your words.

"What are the stakes?"

"If I win, you will be in eternal service to me." As he said that, he seemed to glow with feral power, his shadow growing and giving you a wicked grin. "And if you win... You will receive three favours from me. Does that sound fair?"

"No. Not even a little bit. I was interested before, but it's clear that the game is stacked in your favour."

The overlord's eyes darkened, sending a delightful pang of fear through your entire being.

"I do not appreciate the implications of that. To think that I would ever 'stack' a game? Ha, it's ludicrous, preposterous, and utterly - utterly - ridiculous!"

"Am I supposed to just believe you?" you snapped. "You make weird eyes at me, get real close, start talking about games where I'll be in 'eternal service' to you... And I'm supposed to think that you're - what? - chivalrous deep down? Trustworthy? Assume that favours from you are actually worth something? Do I look that stupid to you?"

The radio demon blinked. "Do you want me to answer that truthfully?"

You folded your arms. The stance would come off as defensive, but you didn't need your arms to put up a fight, not with your particular powers. "Do you want me to blindly believe you?"

"No, of course not! I see you as... a kindred spirit, in a sense. Such violence within you, a head for business, yet bogged down by apathy... If a game is not to your tastes, then how about a mutually beneficial partnership?"

There was something in his eyes that looked almost proud. Satisfied, maybe. It was strange. He really was an expressive creature, but you could tell there were so many thoughts in his head that weren't fully reaching his features.

You had a feeling that he would be one hell of a poker player.

"'Mutually beneficial partnership'? Is that how people from your era asked each other out or something?"

"Hah! You are a funny one..."

That... wasn't a no. Huh.

"Wait, are you actually-"

"Ah, how unfortunate, but it seems I must be running along now. It's disheartening that we couldn't come to an agreement of any sort, but in the future I hope we can see eye to eye. I will be in contact with you soon, as I did enjoy this little chat!"

You found yourself smiling - genuinely smiling - for the first time in what felt like forever.

"And what's the actual name of the gentlemen I should be waiting for?" you asked.

"How rude of me, it seems I've missed a trick or two! The one you will be awaiting is Alastor. I hear he's quite the troublemaker, though."

"At least you've heard of him," you said, delighting in the way his eye left twitched.

"A funny one indeed," Alastor concluded before vanishing in a smog. The last thing you saw was his shadow grinning at you with a wink.

You stayed there for a moment, basking in the unfamiliar warmth filling your chest. It was, without a doubt, a feeling you could get used to.

(Thanks for reading - I have requests open, so if you want to see anything specific, let me know and I'll see what I can do!)

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #30] Evaluating the Meaning of Home

warnings: to busan we go!!! kook is driving, yummy <3 , v fluffy, jk using the birds as an excuse!!! i spy with my little eye something beginning with.... b!!! ends in 'is jealous! and territorial!' !!!

a/n: this header was almost lost to the void, but I had a screenshot of the chapter to put on insta when I first published it lol, so it's a screenshot of a screenshot of a screenshot (of a screenshot?? (technically)). but it also mean I know the exact date of this og upload--31 march 2023. waaaa so long ago

wc: 6k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

You're rushing around your apartment by the time Jeongguk shows up at your place again a few hours later. 

He'd given you time to get packed and ready, but also had taken the time to get his things together, too. His visit to your place the night before had been unplanned, so he'd lost the morning to get ready. He's like the white rabbit today - late, late, late - but it's inconsequential. Doesn't matter. It's a piss-easy drive, even with rush-hour traffic.

A quick call to his mum had been made, just to let her know you'd be joining him. She offered to make up his brother's room with fresh sheets before Jeongguk had even asked.

"It's fine," Jeongguk had said. "I can sort it when I get there-"

"It's no bother," she had assured him. "I don't want her thinking I can't keep my house in order! You'll sleep in your room, yes? Or would it be better if you were in Jeongmin's room? Might be strange, considering they don't know one another."

"Mum, he moved out a decade ago," Jeongguk laughed. "It's just a spare room."

"It's still your brothers!" His mother had reprimanded him. Fiercely proud of both her boys, she never wanted either of them to think they didn't have a place to call home. "Just like your room is still yours. Still has your little Spiderman posters up and those Girls Generation pictures next to your bed-"

"Put her in Jeongmin's room," Jeongguk had cringed. Knows it's full of baseball memorabilia, but would rather you be overwhelmed by his older brother's Lotte Giants obsession than his teenage girl crushes.

"Suit yourself," his mother had laughed. "What time should I expect you? What would you like for dinner? What did you say your friend's name is again?"

A million and one questions were asked, so Jeongguk's 'quick' call had taken far longer than he'd intended.

When he arrives at your place, he apologises. You simply shake your head. Invite him in.

"Just give me a minute," you say. "I'm running late, too."

He doesn't oppose. Notices your bags by the door, so offers to take them down to his car - of which you gladly accept, until you glance over to him and notice, well, him.

In jeans again, partially inspired by the pair of yours he'd stolen that morning to go to the shops, the shirt he's wearing is white. Isn't as baggy as his usual style is. Tucked into his jeans, a belt secures everything in place. You're reminded, again, of why Jeon Jeongguk is a menace.

But the white of the shirt against his tan skin is so heavenly, it's impossible not to stare; tattoos out, as if it isn't still chilly outside. Coat must be left in the car, you assume.

"Hey, hey," you call after him, hand outstretched to beckon him back. Nod toward his neck when he turns around. Your admiration for his appearance had drawn your attention to the marks left by your lips. "Can't be going home with your neck looking like that. Let me sort it out before we head off."

"My neck?" Jeongguk questions, reaching up to hold it, pressing his palm down to try and figure out what you mean - and then he remembers. Gets a little bashful. Giggles. "Ohhh."

And so he traipses back to your apartment and hops up onto the kitchen counter, bags on the floor. Dangles his feet as you rummage around for your concealer and pigment corrector in your room. You've only packed essentials with you to go to Busan. Think it will be better for your skin if you let the ocean air get well-acquainted with your pores.

Silence takes place of your usual banter as you come to stand between his legs and get to work fixing the mess you made on his skin. There's a neutral calmness to the way you both like to exist together; without pressure to perform, or appear likeable, or personable.

Hair down, Jeongguk toys with it just to give him something to do. Has a hairband on his wrist - one of yours - so decided to annoy you a little. Pulls all your hair to one side and starts to tie it up in a ponytail.

"Stop," you hum, a little smile on your lips as you dab product onto his skin. "I'm trying to focus."

"I'm helping," he says. "Getting your hair out of the way."

"Was never in the way," you grumble.

"Was," he objects.

Pulling away from the task at hand, you stand a little straighter. Raise your eyebrows, your hair making you look like an awkward singer from the 80's. Teeth on show, dimple etched into his cheek, Jeongguk looks far too pleased with himself. Reaches for your wrist, and pulls your spare hairband off it. Has another idea, now.

"Back to work," he says. "Haven't got all day. Chop chop."

Scoffing, you're about to refuse - but Jeongguk knows this. Knows he's being a cheeky bastard just to get a reaction, and now that he has? Kinda regrets it. Hooks his dangling legs behind yours. Hairband hooked over his thumb, his hands sink around your throat. Pulls you closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he grins. "Don't go. Please fix my neck."

Narrowing your eyes, you ignore how pouty your lips feel; how much they wanna close the gap between you and him.

"I'll fix your hair," he promises.

"Fine," you say, purely because the way he's holding you close is unbearable . You need to be out of his grasp immediately. Focus. "But not because you want me to. I'm only doing this because I don't want your parents to think poorly of me."

"My parents are gonna love you," he mutters as you get back to work, his hands gently prizing the hairband from your hair and letting it fall loose. "And who cares, anyways? Not like you're my girlfriend. Don't need to impress them."

"Doesn't matter," you say as you tap out the half-dried concealer on his throat. "Still want them to like me."

"Like I said," he shrugs, tying your hair up again, this time splitting it down the middle. Left side first, then right. Two cute little buns. "They will. Already told them a friend is coming with me. Had to really reinforce the fact you're just a friend. Should have heard mum when I said you were a girl-"

"Oh, God," you grimace.

"Honestly, I thought she was gonna get my entire family on a group call just to tell them her little boy is growing up," he laughs. "Was bitterly disappointed when I said you were just a friend. Had to tell her you used to have a thing with Jimin-"

"You told her what?!"

"Calm down!" He laughs. "Said you dated, not that you fucked him and went back for round two even though he didn't make you-"

"Jeongguk!"

"Sorry," he lies. He's not sorry at all. The smirk on his pretty lips attests to this. "Easier for us both if she thinks that there's like... nothing."

"There is nothing," you remind him.

Jeongguk's dreamily dark eyes roll. Head shakes. "Careful. Your nose will start growing, Pinocchio."

Looking down at you with a fondness reserved for only... well, you , Jeongguk thinks you look so silly with your hair in little lopsided space buns. Glitter in the corner of your eyes, there's a charming quality to the way you present yourself to the world. Cute . Your appearance is quite different from your personality, and yet they go hand in hand.

A My Melody girlie, yes, but there's a reason you seem to get on so well with a Kuromi boy. You and him are cut from the same cloth; different and yet so similar.

"Big noses are hot," you shrug.

Jeongguk fights a smile. Knows his isn't huge , but that it's been noted as 'well-proportioned' a few times by girls he's dated. Been a selling point. Wonders if maybe this is your way of giving him a compliment without directly saying as such. Chooses not to press, just in case it isn't.

Neck fixed as well as it ever will be, you're quite pleased with your work.

"Let's go," you encourage, not caring to change your hair. Will just fix it in his car. Haven't worn your hair like this in ages and it's always cute - even if you know he was trying to make it look ridiculous.

He lets you walk ahead. Grabs the recycling that needs to be put in the little trash pile on the corner of your street, not thinking much of it. Just saves you a job when you get back.

His car smells just like it always does; leathery and a little musky. Manly. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like it, but you figure he's not to thank for it.

It takes you less than five seconds to notice the origami birds up on the dash, where you both know your feet will end up within half an hour.

"Oh?" You sound, not really asking anything, yet Jeongguk knows what you mean.

"Been on my desk for ages now," he says - and he's right. They fell weeks ago. Have been cluttering up his space. "Figure we may as well do them seeing as we have some time together."

You laugh a little, shaking your head.

"I've not forgotten earlier," you tell him. "You ain't getting fuck all from me when it comes to the birds."

Jeongguk just grins, sinking his key into the ignition and starting the car up. He glances over to make sure your seatbelt is on, before knocking it into first and setting off down the sideroad your apartment is up.

"Read it," he says.

"Which is yours?"

"Not even gonna give you an answer for that one, B," he deadpans, flicking up his indicator to merge onto the main road. "Use your eyes."

Cringing, you hum out a small " ah ."

The birds are like yin and yang; complementary and yet entirely different. One is pristine, folded perfectly, still holding its shape. The other? Well... the other is yours. A little lopsided, and definitely not your finest work, it even has a few specks of glitter that dance in the light cascading through Jeongguk's windshield.

"Fair enough," you admit, reaching out for his.

Unfolding it, you can't help but feel a little apprehensive. Nervous. It's a while since any of the birds have been done, and you -

"Oh, you mother fucker," you laugh as soon as you open it. "You got me here under false pretences!"

Written in his handwriting is an oh-so-convenient fear:

Take a girl to meet my parents.

"No, I didn't!" He protests, voice a little whiney. "I didn't! I swear. I genuinely do think you need some clean air, you little goblin - but like, two birds, one stone."

"I've been bamboozled," you whine.

"No, you haven't!" Jeongguk chuckles, finding your little faux tantrum all very endearing.

"I have," you insist.

"I'd forgotten all about it when I asked," he admits, knowing that you'll likely think it's bullshit.

Is proven right when you scoff a very bratty, " bollocks ."

"It's not bollocks," he says, almost choking on his sweet little laughs. "Honestly, B. I saw them when I was getting my stuff together and figured if we do them now, it will be one less bird to worry about in the future. We do have lives to live, yanno. Can't be doing birds forever."

"Why not?" You retort a little too quickly. "Actually, yeah, no. You're right."

"Exaaaaactly," he hums, smug in your confirmation that he'd made the right choice. "Haven't looked at your bird yet, so whatever that is? Yeah. Don't blame me."

Part of you doesn't want to open it. It feels sort of embarrassing, knowing how sweet all of Jeongguk's birds are compared to yours. No matter how endearing his are, yours always seem to be vulgar - and while you know Jeongguk would never oppose them, it makes you feel a little insecure.

You do all of the things with him because you wrote them down. They're your desires.

But Jeongguk has proven time and time again that there's nothing to be embarrassed about.

So you open it.

Read it in your head.

Smile .

Feel your heart flutter like the petals of falling cherry blossom in early spring.

"What?" Jeongguk says softly, noticing the curve of your lips as he glances to the side. "What is it, B?"

"Cute," you admit. "It's really cute."

"Okay..." he waits for clarification.

"It's like, the nicest one I wrote," you say, secretly pleased with yourself.

"Which is...?"

"Holding hands," you simplify the bird. Don't shout it like it's written down, all caps, and an abundance of exclamation marks. "Just like... Down the street, I guess. Publically."

"Holding hands?" Jeongguk questions, completely confused by everything you are. "Sorry, holding hands ? What happened to mutual masturbation? Showering toge-"

"Shut up," you cringe, holding the now flat paper up over your face. Mortifying .

Jeongguk's playful nature doesn't relent, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching over to you. His long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling the cover from your rosy cheeks. The energy between you is electric, yet entirely calm; a contradiction. So perfectly you .

"Holding hands," he chuckles to himself quietly, shaking his head with such fondness it's hard to remember a time when interacting like this wasn't normal for you both.

A friendship formed in the dizzying haze of Dionysus, nurtured over iced coffees and acrylic paint; there's something good between you and Jeongguk. Something rare. Something worth protecting.

And when Jeongguk slides his fingers between yours, setting your hands down on his thigh, you can't help but feel safe. He'll guard your deepest fears like the fiercest companion you ever imagine, yet softly encourage you to face them with Midas' hands. You'll become golden where you once felt brittle, and Jeongguk will be the one to blame.

When you glisten, and men unworthy of you see the beauty of your restoration, they'll pillage. Take what he's fixed; rob you of your worth. Perhaps you should be angry at him. Perhaps he's setting you up for destruction.

But how lovely it is to feel somewhat whole, again, even if just for a while.

"It's not what the bird meant," you say softly, pretending as if your heart isn't beating a mile a minute. Perhaps it does scare you more than you realised.

"It's what it says," Jeongguk replies just as sweetly.

He's not wrong, granted, but there are layers to this. There always is. He knows this. Just sort of wanted to hold your hand.

"I know," you nod. He holds your hand a little tighter. Anticipates an explanation. Doesn't think you need to explain it at all, but knows you will regardless. "It's just that -"

God, Jeongguk thinks. Know you so well.

"- My ex, like, would never hold my hand. Or at least, he did, but then he sort of used it like a punishment. When he was pissed off with me, he'd refuse to hold it, and like - I'm not a baby ," you quickly interrupt your story to downplay just how hurtful it always was. "I just... It was different, you know? I was so used to holding the hands of the people I loved, and then it was like 'oh, I got a little too much glitter on his new tie' and my hand wouldn't get held for the rest of the weekend."

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. You're starting to understand why Seokjin hated your glitter so much. It's the same reason Jeongguk loves it so much. It's your calling card. I WAS HERE carved into wooden benches as a teenager; love locks secured to bridges around the world. To see glitter on their skin is to see evidence of you. Your existence. Your role in their lives.

The glitter must have made it hard to cheat.

It's a devastating realisation. One you wish you hadn't made. One you'll never be able to forget.

Jeongguk's grip on your dainty, ring-clad fingers tightens.

"Your ex needs fuckin' therapy," he growls. "Had no right making you feel like that."

You just shrug. Jeongguk's grip loosens, thinking you're trying to pull away, but is comforted when you don't. He strokes his thumb over yours, soothing your woes.

"Think we all need a little therapy," you offer a small, sincere smile.

"You're probably right," Jeongguk admits.

"Anyways, let's not think about that," you say, pulling your hand back now, folding your bird back up into its original pattern. "Road trips are made for forgetting exes, not thinking about them."

And with that, Jeongguk presses no more on the topic. Lets you connect your phone to his aux. Is thankful he dragged you along, 'cause you really do need a break, maybe even more than he does. Your life has been go-go-go since the moment he met you. It's partially his fault, but he hopes he can make up for it, now.

Thankfully for him, if there's one thing you enjoy about being Jeongguk's friend, it's riding shotgun in his car.

He handles it so well that you wouldn't be surprised to discover he's the son of a racecar driver, or maybe had been on in a past life. There's an ease to how he manoeuvres - and even though car guys are pretty high up on your list of boys you never wanna date, he does make you reconsider this. Never before has a man reversing ever gotten your panties wet - but a hand behind your headrest, the other flat against his steering wheel as he ignores the automatic sensors and drives according to what feels right?

Mhhhm. Has you thinking maybe the passenger princess girlies know something you don't. You always assume guys with nice cars are overcompensating for having a small dick, but Jeongguk has already proven this theory wrong.

Still a little frustrated from the way Jeongguk had worked you up a few hours earlier without giving you a release of any kind, you squeeze your legs together. Sink further down into your seat. Decide that thinking about his dick in any capacity is a bad decision. A distraction is needed.

"I spy with my little eye," you sigh, looking out the window for inspiration. The world passes by in such a blur that it's hard to pinpoint something. Everything is a rush of brown and beige, winter killing off the lush greens of the mountains that you miss dearly. It's been like this for months, and will remain this way until March, at the very earliest.

"Something beginning with?" He asks, entertaining you without a second thought.

"Something beginning with... R."

"Really sexy boy?" He asks without missing a beat.

"Ddaeng."

"Hmmm," he hums. "That's the only obvious answer."

"I can't see any sexy boys, though," you pout. "Let alone really sexy."

"Okay, firstly, that's rude," he tells you with a small huff. "And secondly, give me a clue. Inside the car or outside?"

"Inside."

"So... A really sexy boy?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "Really big idiot, more like."

"Is that the answer?!"

"No," you giggle. "Think smarter, Koo."

"I am thinking smart," he insists. "And what have I told you about calling me that?"

"That it will give you a raging boner?"

"Well... True, but no. Don't do it."

"Because it will give you a raging boner?"

"Oh my God," he exclaims. "R! Raging boner!"

"Do you have a boner?"

Jeongguk shrugs. "Meh. Bit of a semi."

"Fucking hell, are you ever not horny?"

"Rarely."

"Such a boy," you laugh. "But no. Not raging boner.  C'mon, Gguk. It's easy! Think!"

Jeongguk spends almost 8 minutes guessing. Eventually, you have to tell him.

"Radio?!" He shrieks when you reveal it as the answer. "You can't see the radio!"

"It's right there!" You point towards the screen displaying what's currently playing on his aux.

"That's a screen!"

"Oh don't be so pedantic," you laugh. "Okay, okay. Redo. Your go."

"Fuckin' radio," he mutters, shaking his head. "Okay. I spy with my little eye..."

Feet up on Jeongguk's dash, you ignore him every time he tells you to take them down. Sometimes he reaches over and forces them down. You always just put them back up ten seconds later. Let him think that maybe this time you'll follow his orders - but you're still reeling from his little power play in bed this morning.

Like fuck you'll do anything he says. Not today.

"If I crash, your legs will impact your chest," he warns. "Knees'll go right through your ribs."

"So don't crash," you say, knowing that such a comment will only earn a defensive take from Jeongguk - and you're proven right.

"I know how to drive," he asserts, and he kind of reminds you of your own father, and how much he hated your mother's backseat driving. "But it's other fuckers! There are some idiots on the road!"

You snort a little laugh. "Yeah. You're right about that."

"Maybe I will just crash my car," Jeongguk mutters, but it's all in good fun.

You're both smiling; both pleased for things to be feeling normal between you again. You may bicker about the tiny things, but it's only because you feel so secure in the big things. How lovely it is to have a friend like him.

"You'll do no such thing," you tell him with absolute certainty. "You love this car too much."

Jeongguk doesn't reply. Hums a small indication of agreement, but chooses not to elaborate. Given the choice between you or the car? He'd crash it a hundred times over if it was the only way to keep you safe. Cares so much more for the girl in his passenger seat than he does for the vehicle she's in.

It's not a long drive - only about an hour - but Jeongguk takes the scenic route. It's been a while since he's had you here, and he likes it. Likes the subtle notes of your perfume filling the car, and the way you quietly hum along to songs on his playlists.

When he fills up the gas halfway along the journey, you grab the snacks. Ask him what he wants, and roll your eyes when he says, "surprise me."

The service station is a little dated; white walls peeling, display signs relics from better days. A small complex, there are just a handful of food stalls and a small CU. The sweet scent of fresh pastries wafts through the air, thanks to a small tent out the front where a man easily three times your age is using a wooden skewer to turn hodu-gwaja in their mould.

As far as you're concerned, it's not a road trip (no matter how short the distance) without a paper bag full of red bean-filled, walnut-shaped bread. Jeongguk always seems to go for the saltier snacks when you're together, though, so you head inside first. Scope out the options. Spot a small stall frying tornado potatoes and trust your intuition when it compels you to pick up one for Jeongguk.

Returning to the forecourt, the skewer with a spiralled potato in one hand and your brown paper bag full of pastries in the other, you wait for him to notice you.

A hand on the nozzle of the pump, he's nearly finished filling the tank. Goosebumps are on his arms, the regret of not tossing on his coat written all over his face. The nozzle clicks, diverting Jeongguk's attention from the distant mountains he'd been gazing over towards, realigning his thoughts and focusing him in on the world around him.

Takes no more than half a second for his eyes to find you; black padded jacket keeping you warm, your smile peeking just above the top of the fastening. Hair up in a couple of space buns, your eyes are the focal point of your face, all glittery and gorgeous.

Yet it's the food he focuses on, tummy rumbling.

"For me?" He mouths in your direction.

Nodding enthusiastically, you crouch down to take a seat on the steps that lead up to the food complex as happiness blooms over his features. Jeongguk raises a fist in the air, and shakes it. Bites down on his bottom lip; closes his eyes. Silently cheers. Makes you giggle.

Across the forecourt, there's a small group of girls. Around your age, you think. Eyes on Jeongguk, they're muttering to one another; no doubt enthusing about the fact he looks like daydream in this dreary service station. Radiates gold in a town of chalk.

As he heads towards you, you can't help but think about how you'll be perceived. Know that it's incredibly easy to incorrectly judge a friendship like yours. It's a tale as old as time, how a guy and a girl can never be 'just friends'. The girls will see you and will assume you're a couple.

Your smile widens as he approaches. You hold out the tornado potato before he reaches you. It's deliberate.

It's me, you think. I'm the one he's walking towards. Not you.

A strange thought, for someone who is just a friend.

Curious, and pathetic, and a little juvenile. The gossiping continues.

They're pretty girls. Probably lovely, too. Personalities to magic their magic-perms.

You've no reason to be thinking harshly, and yet when Jeongguk is close enough to take the snack from you, and you use your now free hand to pat the ground beside you. Indicating that he should sit, you deliberately choose the side away from the girls.

"Legend," he says, chowing down without much thought. Would usually check the temperature with his hand, but has just filled his tank. Hands are probably filthy. "Ah, fuck," he hisses as he breathes in a little air to cool the red-hot potato he's already got in his mouth. "Hot."

Laughing, you apologise. 

"Sorry. The lady running the stall fried me a fresh one," you explain.

The rest of the potatoes had been sitting out for a little while, or so you had been told by the sweet lady. Her actions were benevolent; a small kindness bestowed upon a shooting star. Karma is very real, and it'd be foolish not to treat a cosmic entity with such generosity. Wise in her years, she wasn't about to let you pass her by without wishing for a little goodwill.

Jeongguk shakes his head, swallowing that first bite. "Nah, it's fine. It's good. Hit the spot," he says, then holds it over for you. "Want some?"

The answer is no - all you really want is the hodu-gwaja - but the girls are still looking at him, so you accept his offer like the petty little bitch you are. Bite straight from his stick. Rip off a little more than you intend to, and get Jeongguk laughing.

"Save me some!" He jokes, but you simply shake your head.

Cheeks rosy, you struggle to get it all down in one bite. "I paid for it."

"You're getting a free ride," he reminds you, to which you can't argue against.

Speaking of nothing much, just whatever comes to mind, the small break from the journey is welcome. You remain seated on the stairs even after you finish your food. The girls depart before you do.

"Think they were in love with me," Jeongguk says almost as soon as they leave. You choke on your pastry. "Wow, really that unbelievable, huh?"

He's just joking, but is no stranger to stares. Works in a bar. Knows that he's desired, even if he has no desire to act upon it most of the time. It's all superficial shit he doesn't care for.

"Got an ego on you today, don't you?" You laugh.

"Had a girl calling me Daddy in bed this morning," he teases you, nudging against your shoulder with his own.

"Fuck off."

"So yeah," he admits, ignoring your curse. "The ego got a good stroking."

He kinda wishes it was something else that had gotten a good stroking instead, but he's trying to behave himself. Nearly fucked things up all because he fucked you when he shouldn't have. Is trying to fix things.

"Your ego will be your downfall, Jeon," you assure him, getting to your feet, taking his empty skewer from his hand to toss everything in the bin together. "No one likes a cocky bastard."

"So why are you walking away, then?" He teases. "Can't control yourself when you're around me, huh?"

"I'm telling your mum," you warn, as Jeongguk gets to his feet also, patting down the crumbs from his thighs.

"Oh yeah?" He indulges in the flirt. "Whatcha gonna tell her?"

"That her son is acting like a little fuck boy," you assert. "She'll be disappointed."

"She'll also know it's bullshit, B," he shrugs, toying with his lip ring. He'd make the perfect fuck boy, you think, if only he was an asshole. "My brother is the one that fucks around. I've always been an angel."

"Is your brother single?" you joke.

"You can't tell me off for speaking like a tool and then expect me to set you up with one," he laughs. "Stay the fuck away from my brother."

"He's older right?" You ask, ignoring his warning.

"Right."

"I love an older man," you dreamily sigh as you head back to Jeongguk's car.

"I don't care," Jeongguk says, voice stern, but you pay it no notice as you reach his car. He was gonna open the door for you, but when you're being like this? No chance.

Instead, he tugs on your wrist to turn you around. Gets you facing him. Walks forwards, still. Stops only when your back meets the side of his car. 

He traps you in place; hands on the roof, one on either side of you. He looks down. Looks dead centre in your eyes. Looks like sin.

"You can't go around collecting up the people I care about like Pokemon cards, B," he husks. "You've already had my housemate."

"Had your housemate twice," you correct, just to wind him up a little more. He's too easy when he's like this. Easy to wind up; easy to please. All you'd have to do is say 'I won't', and he'd accept it - but where's the fun in that?

He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Lets his nose nudge up against yours.

"You can't have my best friend and my brother."

"Why not?" You whisper against his lips.

"'Cause I told you earlier, B," he whispers. "I get jealous."

"That's a ' you' problem."

"You'll destroy a family," he tells you with such conviction you believe him. He's learnt to never lie to you. His jealousy? It's as honest as it gets.

"So I can't fuck your dad either?" You tease, just because you enjoy Jeongguk showing his true colours. You might like an older man, but not so old he could be your own dad. Already know you'll have nightmares from Jeongguk making you call him Daddy that morning.

"Gonna be in my city, B," he reminds you, ignoring the threat because, honestly, the idea of it repulses him. "Ain't no way you're gonna fuck anyone that isn't me in my own goddamn hometown."

"No?"

"No," he whispers as he nudges his nose up against yours. Lets his lips brush yours. Doesn't push down. Wants to so badly. That semi of his from earlier? Yeah. It's hard, now - and he does let that press against your tummy. Lets you know that he's thinking about fucking you, then has the audacity to say, "Behave yourself."

"Fine," you smirk with casual arrogance. Jeon Jeongguk has buttons, or so it would appear. Pushing on them is just as fun as you'd imagine. "Won't fuck your dad."

"Thank you," he breathes out a small laugh. Pulls away a little to press a kiss to your nose. "My brother is out of town, anyways. Couldn't even if you wanted to."

Shrugging your shoulders, you turn to face the door, and let him linger for a moment. The parking lot is virtually empty, but this is still far too heated for such a location. The proximity of his positioning is sinful; his hardness digging into your lower back.

It's not like you didn't know this would be the case. You did it deliberately.

He deserves it, after the little stunt he pulled earlier.

Hair still up in little space buns, Jeongguk decides he needs to compliment you more often when your hair is up. Likes your neck. Or having easy access to it, at least.

His lips press a chaste kiss to the curve of your neck before he pulls away.

Watching as he gets around to the driver's side, bulge in his jeans painfully obvious, you voice a theory that you know is gonna soften him right up.

He can thank me later, you think. Doing the duty of a good friend!

"Shagged you, anyways," you hum. "You're all related so you probably have, like, identical dicks. No point in me fucking them, too."

Fingers hooked beneath his door handle, Jeongguk looks over to you, disgust written all over his face. "What is wrong with you?"

You just smile. Shrug. Pop open the car door, and get in. Call to him, "Shall we get going?"

Jeongguk thinks of the conversation you had earlier about crashing his car. Doesn't seem like such a bad idea now.

"We're turning around," he assures you. "There's no way I'm letting you meet my fucking parents."

"What was it you said?" you giggle, thinking of his stupid little insult from earlier. "That if your mum meets me, then she'll stop begging you to bring a girlfriend home? You're welcome!"

The rest of the drive is marred by stupid bickering and playful conversation. There's no need for discussions of anything hard, nor heavy. Hayun feels like a distant memory, and you're yet to reply to the message that pinged through from Seojoon as you were getting ready to leave your place.

It's just you and your best friend; an open road with the ocean on the horizon.

Jeongguk spots the sea first. Doesn't mention it, 'cause he wants to let you 'win' the unspoken game of 'first to see the sea wins'.

"Gguk!" you gasp when you do eventually see the cerulean beauty of Busan. "The sea! Look!"

Worth it, he thinks.

His parents live a little further inland, but he'd deliberately taken you further down towards the seafront just for this moment.

"Home sweet home," he muses, knocking his indicator to signal he's turning off. The streets are always so crowded down by the coast, so as much as he'd like to stay close, he knows he's already running late. His mum is probably worried. "We can come back this evening. I'll show you my old haunts."

It's a simple invitation, much like the initial invite for you to come with him. Jeongguk doesn't think too hard about things like this. Decides what he wants to do, and offers you the chance to join him.

"Please," you enthuse. "I've never been here in the evening."

"Oh, it's the best," Jeongguk smiles. "Forget our city - Busan is so much better."

It's not. His opinion is driven by nostalgia. Hasn't had a night out in Busan since before he met you. Doesn't realise how much he'd miss you, if you weren't with him.

The roads he takes become increasingly less crowded. Closer to home.

It's strange, Jeongguk thinks. He normally feels a giddy excitement whenever he reaches this part of town; an appreciation for the place he grew up. It's that classic 'coming home' sensation that bubbles in your stomach whenever you first greet your mother during the holidays - and yet Jeongguk's giddiness makes no hike. Doesn't rise like he thinks it will.

At least it doesn't until he parks up, just down the street from his parent's place, and glances over to you.

That's when it hits . 

And that's also when he knows he's absolutely fucked.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[shibusawaz]

So, your Madoka Kaname drawing looks amazing, and as a traditional artist, I was trying to observe to see if I could learn from your drawing.

One thing that stuck out to me was the shading and outlines.

How do you shade so well? How do you know which colors to use, and where to use them? Same question goes for outlines, too.

hihihihiii!! first of all thank u so much, im rlly flattered that u were so impressed 🫶🫶 im honestly really surprised how much attention my drawing got gyuh

anyways!! the picture i referenced was from the crash fever x pmmm crossover, so it’s by no means completely original. here’s the side by side comparison of the (cropped) og image vs in my sketchbook!!

so, most of the actual shading decisions and placements are from the original work. however, i had to change up the colors a bit because of the selection i had. (please note that my version is also darker because of lighting and iphone picture quality 😭😭)

also, for most of my drawings i follow the call of the wind (make guesses) and fufill the prophecies (keep adding more colors until it looks okay)

that being said, below the cut is a full coloring walkthrough if you’re still interested!!

please note that this is much smaller scale and done in less time (took an hour instead of two days 😨) so the quality will be a bit less!!

alright. so let’s say we wanna draw this image, but we tweaked it a bit because drawing BOTH eyes was too much of a hassle.

after you clean your sketch, the best thing to do is open with an outline that’s not QUITE black but close to it.

now, i have a rule. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE remember this rule: you can use ANY color. for your outline, shading, whatever. it doesn’t have to match the reference.

if you are using this as a genuine tutorial, please know that i change colors every fucking time i draw. i change mediums too. this is only the process i used for my madoka drawing (as best as i can remember)

cuz, like my art teacher said, you have this thing called artistic license, which means you have the right to change whatever the FUCK you want if you think it makes your drawing better. make her purple, give her one ponytail, whatever. as long as you can make it work, have fun!!

anyways. next, go over that outline with other dark colors of different hues. there’s no rhyme or reason, it’s just fun.

after, place your highlights on the hair. i used cream instead of the pastel pink in the original because i like cream better and it adds more hues.

usually, i start with the darkest value instead for shading as it’s more vibrant, but madoka doesn’t have any really standout dark tones. it’s okay though i love her

then, you gotta go in with base colors. simple pink and peach yada yada

listen, quick reminder: YOUR BASE COLORS DON’T MATTER AS LONG AS YOU CAN STILL ADD ONTO THEM!!!

just pick a light base close to the original. don’t agonize over it. apply lightly and gently in circular motions, and you’ll be okay!!

next, we adjust the tone of the hair. i wanted a cooler toned pink, so i added amethyst. i also added a bit to the stray eye.

after, adjust your tone more as needed. again, any color goes. the means justify the ends, and if you end up adding some blue or yellow or whatever then good!! go bonkers with it. i used vermillion.

next, add shading blocks (referenced from the original image!) in a color that’s light enough to blend in more but dark enough to see (amethyst is my favorite for this, and i use it a lot!!) you can also add extra shading in some areas to give it some personality.

after THAT, blend in your shading a bit more with your base colors. by this point you should be pressing down a lot to get the pigment you want. i think for her skin i added beige instead of peach in this step, but that’s also what i did for the above drawing.

the purpose of this is to mute your colors a bit so they fit together more. however, if you want it to pop, you don’t have to add another base color!!

i also went over the outlines with the base color to lighten them and even out the drawing. i do that with almost every step, as needed. follow your heart on that one

also, i gave her a little bit of blush in that step. just because.

ok, so now is the fun part. for the hair and any accessories/clothes/things of the same texture, add random streaks of random colors.

yeah, go ahead, add orange, blue, yellow, whatever. it’s best if it’s of the same value (aka darkness) so it fits in with the base color, but it can be anything!!

you don’t have to do this, but it’s fun.

also, i shaded the eye too offscreen. same process, because pmmm’s style has a very flat texture on characters. thus, it’s okay to use the same shading technique.

now, we can do the same with accessories!! these are simpler and i honestly got too lazy to even reference for the scarf because the hair was the main focus.

finally, add little details, clean up anything you don’t like, and do whatever you want with it!!

that’s all i do for shading, and i hope it helped a bit. i mainly work with pen and paint markers, but the process is the same aside from tweaking parts.

just remember:

its your art do whatever the fuck you want

LAYER LAYER LAYER fix anything by adding new things

it doesnt have to be perfect yada yada

fun color = fun drawing

it doesnt have to look like the picture because thats boring and you wont learn if you try and carbon copy everything you see

like and subscribe

[shlubbyart]

May I see the disabled rep lore?

Absolutely!

I'll keep this to disability rep in Suit-Nami specifically, but if you want my thoughts on canon Splatoon characters and disabled representation I'd be happy to delve into my headcanons in a separate post.

This is gonna be a long one so check under the cut if you wanna read my ramblings:

As someone who is disabled/neurodivergent myself, having disabled representation is pretty important to me. It probably shouldn't come as a surprise that Suit-Nami has become a way for me to represent myself, as well as simply exploring the kinds of disabilities I could imagine existing in the Splatooniverse.

I'll start off by going into more detail about Tide's physical disability that I referenced in my previous post.

#1. Developmental Deformities in Inklings/Octolings

In short: Tide has a misshapen ear due to a hiccup in his ability to shapeshift.

I always thought it would be interesting to explore the idea of the squid to kid transformation not always working as intended, and for that to be used in the context of disability.

Here's a little graph to show what I mean:

For Tide, his left ear (or fin, however you want to define it) isn't able to fully morph in his human form, so he's left with a blueish translucent fin/ear malformation.

Being an idol, as well as previous experiences with ableist discrimination, Tide opts to cover his ear by hiding it between his two hair tentacles. He's quite sensitive to having his hair being lifted or his ear being touched without permission, so doing either of those things is a big no-no.

Tide could be partially deaf in his left ear as a result, but that would really depend if you think he'd be partially deaf in squid form too. I think either interpretation is interesting.

#2. Crash and Hereditary Mutations

Similar to exploring the hiccups of shapeshifting, I also found the concept of Inklings/Octolings having disorders that affect their abilities to change colour as something that would be worth diving into. It technically has already been explored in canon too! Yoko from Ink Theory/Gold Bazookas is implied to have some sort of mutation that makes her tentacles split into different colours.

On that note, have you ever noticed that the ends of Crash's tentacles are always red? It isn't just to look cool (even though it does look very cool), Crash can't actually physically change the ends of his tentacles to any colour outside of a red to dark pink pigment.

The reason? Well I'll have to briefly explain how adaptive camoflage in real life squids actually works:

In simple terms, squids and other animals have these special skin molecules called chromophores. They are able to control the pigments of these chromophores through special multicellular organs in their bodies. Think of it as like having a second nervous system for changing the colour of your skin.

So what if the chromophores or multicellular organs were to not function in the way that they should? Like for instance, chromophores not having enough pigments to shift to certain colours. What are the implications of inkfish being unable to change colour in the context of things like Turf War?

Crash's red ends serve as a sort of base-level exploration into the idea of inkfish having some kind of hereditary complication that effects their abilities to change colour. The reason why I chose hereditary specifically is because he has another mutation that is also genetic: his heterochromia.

I think instances of discolouration in the Splatooniverse could be easily explained through how heterochromia and vitiligo occur in the body. I know for certain there are other Splatoon fans who have OCs with vitiligo or other instances of unique colouration, so maybe it would be comforting for them to know that there is theoretically a grounded explanation as to why it would exist. Not that I think representation has to necessarily be grounded in reality to justify existing.

#3. Tide and the Autism Spectrum

While Tide's lucky ear has been a pretty recent addition, what hasn't been a recent addition is the fact that he is also canonically autistic. Just as a handful of examples, he...

Sometimes misunderstands or doesn't pick up on certain social cues (namely sarcasm and flirting)

Is very passionate and knowledgeable about cats (ie: a very common special interest for people on the spectrum; including me)

Did not start speaking until he was in his preschool years (a common sign of autism in young children; also including me :P)

Has a unique speech pattern and uses a lot of uncommon phrases and words.

Stamps his feet or plays with his hair when he is in a good mood (ie: stimming)

Tide being autistic is 100% a self-indulgent decision on my part, even if I don't completely relate to his experiences. I do play up some of his quirks for jokes, but he is nonetheless an earnest representation of the fun and frustrations that come from being on the spectrum.

#4. Tide and far-sightedness

I'll keep this one short. Tide wears glasses when reading, which while it may be pretty innocuous, is still technically a disability.

I also wanted to share Tide wearing his glasses because he looks like a dork (affectionate) when he has them on.

I'd love to keep exploring disability representation in Splatoon, be it through my fan characters or through headcanons. I think with such a weird and wacky world that Splatoon exists in, it serves as a great canvas for portraying disability in a positive light, and even in ways not fully applicable to humans. If nothing else it is a ton of fun to write about. :P

Sidenote, but despite my position as a disabled person, I don't consider myself an expert in disability. So if I got anything wrong or said something misleading or offensive please let me know!

Thank you for reading ☆

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓪𝓶𝓮 "𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓼"

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐚'𝐯𝐢, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧, 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ x ᴀʟʙɪɴᴏ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ɴᴀ'ᴠɪ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!

ꜱᴏɴɢ: Øɴᴇʜᴇᴀʀᴛ x ʀᴇɪᴅᴇɴꜱʜɪ - ꜱɴᴏᴡꜰᴀʟʟ

Tw: discrimination, Albinism, a bit of angst but with fluff

Author’s note: I had this fic in my draft for a while, so I decided to post it. I hope you like it.

Masterlist

Ever since you were born, you were different. You were not blue like your mother’s avatar. Your skin was white with light pigments which were referred to as the markings of a na’vi, as for your eyes, they were between the color of purple but with red, also considered colorless, not mention you had five fingers and your white hair. No one really could explain why you were born the way you did, it must have been something to do with the DNA or genes, no one could explain why. 

Your mother who was originally a human raised you as such, she believed since you were part human, you should be raised like one. But you wanted to be like your friends, AKA the Sully children, you wanted to be one of the people. Your mother had no issue in you wanting to fit in, but there was one problem, their mother.

Neytiri did not like you near her children, Jake had told her countless times that you were a na’vi but she would always call you a Dreamwalker, a fake, it got so bad that you just gave up. You gave up trying to be like them but no matter how hard you tried, you just would never fit in with the rest. 

You tried, you tried dressing like them, hunt like them, ride a Banshee like them but it was never enough, there was always something wrong. You couldn’t stay out in the sun for too long or your skin will burn, your eyes were sensitive to the light, or sometimes you had vision problems. There was always something, so you just gave up, but like your mother always says. “At Least You Tried” that made you feel a bit better.  But the one thing you didn’t let go was your banshee. The creature was just like you. She had pale skin and her marking were both red and pink. Her eyes were the same color as yours. You named her HerwÌ, it meant Snow in na’vi, you also did not let go of the language either.

Once you had stopped, you just remained in the lab, you barely leave, the only times you live was to collect samples of some kind, get some fresh air, or go on a flight with Herwi, when you would, you stayed away from the village, only flying around Hell’s Gate or you’d explore. You didn’t think anyone would miss you, but you were wrong.

Neteyam, your childhood friend, he was over the moons when he found out that you wanted to be like the people. He helped as much as he could, but when his mother had began to point out your flaws, that’s when he saw how your dreams of being one of the people vanish. So what if you can’t be out in the sun for too long? Maybe you could be a good huntress in the night. So what if your eyes were sensitive to light? Maybe the moons light wouldn’t hurt your eyes. So What if you had some vision problems? Maybe you could improve it.

He tried to find many solutions for you not to give up, but it didn’t matter, he respected your decision, but he was also proud, he was proud that you had given it a shot. He believed you would have been the greatest Huntress, he already had a cool name for you. He liked to call you the “White Terror” once you had succeeded. 

Even if you weren’t like him, he still had feelings for you. He had loved you since you both were little. After his training, he’d go and see what you were up too at the lab, normally you’d be studying stuff around the lab, you had grown very found of learning about the universe. You’d always talk to Neteyam about all kinds of galaxies you had learned that day along with other things such as other kinds of life that lived among them. 

Neteyam just loved listening to you talk, he felt his heart swell up seeing how you’d smile when talking. He also just loved looking at you, somehow he just always remembered what you wore that day, he payed very close attention. He had figured out your favorite color with you having to tell him, he would gift you flowers that were your favorite color. Ones even more beautiful than the last, you always kept them. 

He’d also notice the way you dressed, he sometimes wishes you’d wear his clan’s attire, but he liked seeing you wear your human hoodies and band tees. He also likes it when you share your interest like he does with you. You had introduced him to the music you were into, he didn’t get it at first but he learned. Now everything he thinks of you, he hums a certain song that reminds him of you. 

You would also see him the same way he sees you. You’d also pay attention to the small details of him, how he wore certain chokers and what color beads he wore on his hair. You loved it when he’d get shy, because you were the only one who ever witnessed him being shy around you. You loved seeing that little smile, how the tip of his ears turned a shade of purple along with his cheeks, he’d only get like this around you. That was a privilege you had.

Just like him, you would notice his interests, his love for hunting and his love for riding his Banshee. You would pay close attention on how he would talk about his hunt’s, you’d see how he would get very excited. You loved it. But he’d also talk to you about his struggles on being the oldest and having to do a lot. One being always looking after his siblings along with other bigger responsibilities, since he one day he will be the next  Olo'eyktan after jake.

Around you, he was a complete different person, he actually looked relived, he didn’t have to act like he did around his father. Yes he is tough and a strong guy, but he was still a child, a teen, but a child. Something his father didn’t see, he saw him as a soldier, someone to give orders too and expect them to be followed no matter the cause. You felt glad that Neteyam trusted you, he kept a lot of things to himself, which wasn’t healthy. 

That day was a normal day, after you had finished your lessons with your mother, you went outside for some fresh air. As much as you loved the lab, it also felt suffocating, being in there all day. Each day you were growing older, and not to mention bigger, at some point you’ll be living in like the others, outside in a small camp around Lab. You had your room in the lab, it was an old little lab that you had turned into your room, you were glad that in your room you didn’t have to wear an oxygen mask like the rest of the lab. 

You were dressed in a dark green sports bra and black shorts, which exposed the three small woodsprite tattoo on your thigh . You were thankful that your mother’s avatar’s clothes fit you perfectly. Majority of the time she was in her original human body but she’d sometimes get into her avatar’s and spend time with you outside, specially when you were little. You had been laying on the grass, under a nearby tree protected by the shade. You had your eyes closed as you listened to your music. Once thing you loved about human technology, was the music, there was many to choose from, you liked a lot. You had been listening to California Dreamin’ by The Mamas and Papas. 

Then you felt someone sit next to you, you opened your eyes and saw that it was non other than Neteyam. You sat up and removed a headphone from your ear. “Hey Net” you said happy to see him. He smiled at you “what are you listening to?” he asked as you looked down at your phone and picked it up. “Oh, I’m just listening to whatever honestly” you said, then offered him an earbud. Once it was on his ear, you both just sat their listening to your music. It was nice, laying their in silence, listening to music. You noticed how Neteyam had look you knew to well, so you wanted him to relax, so why not let him relax by listening to music.

After a while, Neteyam spoke once the song was over. “I’ve been meaning to talk” he said, and turned to your side to look at Neteyam. “About?” you asked as Neteyam had also laid on his side and look at you. “My mom and dad said that I’m already old enough to choose a mate” he said. You felt your skin run cold. “Oh, do you have anyone in mind?” you asked with a smile, trying to hide the pain from hearing your crush having eyes for another girl, a real na’vi. “Yeah, I have” he said, that felt like stab to your chest. “Really? How is she like?” you asked, now a bit desperate to know. “She is amazing I tell you, every time I see her, I feel as if she is the one pulling my heart strings” he said smiling and looking down at the grass, shyly.

“Anything else?” you asked and he continued. Neteyam spoke again “she had this eyes that, I have never seen before. They remind me of the spirit tree in a way” he talked as you continued to listen. “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve set my eyes on, their is no one like her” he said now looking into your eyes. You smiled, it should be a happy smile but it was a sad smile. “Go to her, if you want her to be your mate, go to her, don’t let her go” You said as Neteyam then chuckled. “I can’t” he said, now you were confused. “How come?” you asked as he then sat up, looking down at you with a smile, but it wasn’t any smile, it was one of admiration. “Because I am with her now.”

You sat up fast by his response, you felt your face heat up by his confession. “M-me?” you said as Neteyam nodded. “Why me? Why not a girl from your village?!” you said now a bit freaked out, thinking about how his mother would skin you alive. He then took your hand into his. “I don’t want another girl, I want you” he confessed leaning a bit closer. “But your mother, she would not want you to be with a fake like me” you said looking down sadly. Neteyam then lifted your chin with his free hand. “Don’t worry about her, I want you and that is all that matter’s to me. They gave me the choice to choose a mate, and I chose you, but you must also choose me” he said.

Your face feeling even hotter, looking into his yellow eyes shyly at his confession. “I already have” you said as quiet for him to only hear. “I see you Neteyam” you confessed and he saw him leaning closer to your face. “I see you y/n” he said as you both closed your eyes, and both your lips touching.

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