No because the way I get so VISCERALLY angry when someone refers to an animal as albino when they’re actually leucistic, erythristic, or xanthochromatic is both deeply irrational and greatly unhealthy
ALBINISM
Total loss of melanin in the body, i.e. skin, hair/fur/feathers, and eyes (the eyes look pink/red because the lack of melanin in the eye exposes the blood vessels within it to light, which then reflects their red hue)
LEUCISM
Partial loss of melanin in the body; the pattern of melanin distribution is unique in each case, so some people or animals with this condition may have patches of typically-colored skin/hair/fur in addition to pigmented eyes, while others may only have the aforementioned ocular pigmentation
ERYTHRISM
Abnormal prevalence of reddish pigment in the skin/hair/fur/feathers of an animal; concentration of this pigment varies case by case, so humans/animals with the condition can present anywhere from only slightly pink to intensely red in color; to my knowledge, the condition does not affect the eyes
XANTHOCHROMISM
Abnormal prevalence of yellow pigment in the skin/hair/fur/feathers of an animal; similar to erythrism, color intensity can vary from light golden hues to deep yellows; again, to my knowledge, the condition does not affect the eyes
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk
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john price x f!reader thing. unedited. ~600 words.
john price finds a dent in the driver’s door and a note tucked under a wiper.
sorry i can’t afford to pay, please forgive me x
and he’s angry, of course. who wouldn’t be? piece of shit. then he registers the looping handwriting and the little heart in the corner. interesting. he pulls the cctv. lo and behold, there she is. the culprit. some stumbling drunk buffoon.
~~
you probably shouldn’t have nabbed an e-scooter when you were three sheets to the wind, but you did, and fuck, you’re paying for it. you genuinely feel bad about the dent you left in the parked car last night, but you think a broken wrist and three stitches in your lip is more than enough punishment, thanks. you groan, remembering how you tossed the scooter into a bush and hiked a few streets away before calling 999. having to clock in for an opening shift added insult to injury.
~~
he imagines it’s rough going, working an espresso machine with a busted wrist. he supposes the manager didn’t want her as the cashier given the lip. pity, the swelling and stitches aside, she’s quite cute. but serves her right.
he wonders how she’ll react when he picks up his coffee and procures the printed still of her face, clear as day, fleeing from the scene of the crime.
he should feel bad, considering her injuries and what a barista job pays, but. it’s the principle of the thing.
“rough night?” he asks, hovering at the end of the bar.
“huh? oh, yeah. could say that,” she smiles tiredly. it’s a little strained, but still warm. “pity partied too hard.”
john’s smirk flattens. “pity party?”
“yeah,” she shrugs. “series of unfortunate events.”
like running into my car?
“what, bad date?” he jokes carefully, hiding behind a friendly grin.
“ha, guess so. it was supposed to be an anniversary dinner.” she explains dryly, looking all the more defeated as she tamps the grounds.
“supposed to be?”
she glances up, locking in the portafilter with a crank of her good arm. she finally looks a little suspicious of him. smart. “yeah.”
“i don’t mean to pry. you just seem like you could use a vent.” solid recovery.
it works. she considers a moment, shrugs again, and nods as she pulls the shot. “guess so,” she licks her lip and looks back, evidently deeming him harmless. not smart.
“found out he was cheating, called him on it, and he stormed out. after we ordered.”
that’s. that’s not what he expected. but it stirs something oddly protective. john’s a bit old-fashioned, he’s the first to admit it, so to hear about a man carrying himself so poorly? a man running around on a pretty thing like her?
it doesn’t sit well with him. car be damned.
“so how’d you…” he prompts, nodding at the cast.
“oh, yeah, we ordered some fancy wine. i drank most of the bottle alone, sobbing,” she cracks a self-deprecating smile and it dislodges something in his chest. “but the server didn’t charge me for dessert. i, uh, fell on my way home.”
crashed. you crashed into my car.
“sounds terrible.”
“it was. the whole night was. anyway.” she pauses to slide a pen from her apron to write on the cup. “americano to go?” she asks, pushing the drink over the counter, eyes floating to the next order.
john spots the same little heart, the looping letters. he looks back at her, plugging along despite the clear heartache and injuries. he sighs, crumpling the print out in his pocket.
“think i’ll have it to stay, actually,” he mumbles, knowing she doesn’t hear him as she makes the next drink.
he camps out at a table where he can watch her. there’s a dent in his car, but he’s decided there’s a barista-sized hole in his life.
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REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT BY @out-of-jams
ACCIDENTALLY KIDNAPPING A MAFIA BOSS
In Tucker's defense, he thought he was doing someone a favor. A life saving favor, in fact.
"What the fuck-!” The red helmeted guy yelped as a deceptively strong Tucker yanked him onto the bike and sped away. Before Tucker could explain, the GIW agents behind them got in a lucky shot and hit the helmeted liminal with a strong blast to the head.
Clearly, his gear wasn’t equipped with anti-ecto protections, because the guy slumped over on Tucker’s arms. This was bad, because Tucker now had to maneuver about 230 pounds of Gotham muscle while speeding away from government agents. He flicked on the jammer so they couldn’t track his and red helmets’s ecto signature.
“STOP!”
“Ah, shit.” Tucker cursed as he somehow managed to gather up red-helmet’s body and stabilize the bike. “C’mon, Tuck, you can do this.”
Blasts of anti-ecto tech slammed into buildings around him. Luckily, Gotham was used to this kind of shit so people just moved out of the way before going back to their day. Tucker wove around traffic, trying to lure the agents into slamming face first into some signposts.
“Stop damaging the local infrastructure!” Tucker yelled back at them, speeding up.
“WELL REIMBURSE THE PEOPLE AND THE CITY LATER! TELL US WHERE PHANTOM IS!!”
“Over my dead body, you jerks!” Tucker took a sharp right, catching red helmet before the man could slip off. He sped up and took the ramp downwards, heart beating loudly in his ears as he strained his senses to figure out- ah, they took the ramp upwards. Good. Now, all he has to do is bring red helmet back to home base.
“Oh my god. I kidnapped him,” Tucker groaned, slapping at his face before quickly placing his hands back on the handle bar once the bike teetered over with red helmet’s weight. “I’m a criminal. Oh my god.”
Then, as he found his way back, “…Well, it’s not like I wasn’t a criminal before, with the whole resisting arrest thing.”
——
Tucker dumped the red helmet liminal onto the couch of their shared apartment and went to take a shower. When he got out ten minutes later, he found Danny and Sam staring at the helmet guy. Tucker pushed up his glasses (after letting them defog from the shower) and greeted them.
“Hey, guys! I found him while I was running away from Agent L and J.”
“You okay?” Danny asked, eyes immediately flicking over Tucker for injuries.
“Yeah, I’m good. They’re horrible shots.”
“I thought Danny was the one who brought home strays but you…?” Sam commented, arms crossed and a purple painted nail tapping at her arm. “Wait. Isn’t this… that crime lord? What was his name?”
“Red Hood?” Danny offered, turning back to look at the guy on their couch.
Tucker paled. “Oh, no.”
Guns? Check.
Red Helmet? Check.
Bat-Symbol? Check.
Shit.
They collectively stared at the guy in silence.
“…Tucker,” Sam slowly said. “Did you accidentally kidnap a crime lord?”
“Hey, I didn’t want him to get killed! He’s liminal! Even more than us, except for Danny.” Tucker grumbled. “Man, this is why I leave the hero-ing to Danny. I do one good thing and suddenly I have a crime lord on my couch.”
“My couch,” Sam corrected, as she was the one that furnished their apartment.
“What do we do now?”
“Eat dinner,” Tucker said. “I’m famished.”
Sam nodded. “Wait for him to wake up and hope he doesn’t shoot us the moment he wakes up. Then, we explain.”
Danny grabbed all the visible guns he could see. Tucker went to start dinner. Sam supervised, because her boys were idiots and now she had a crime lord in her apartment.
——
Jason groaned, head swimming in a sea of dull throbbing pain as his eyes fluttered open.
Then he remembered he was abducted, and bolted up right. He paused as a series of quick observations made its way to his consciousness.
One. He’s not tied up. Weird, because everyone knows that he’s a weapon even without his weapons.
Two. His weapons were right there, just in reach.
Three. He was surrounded by teenagers and/or young adults who were all scrolling along on their phones.
“Oh, hey, he’s awake! Hi!” The Wayne bait said, electric blue eyes fixing itself on Jason. “Were you aware you died?”
Jason went rigid, hundreds of way to-
“Danny!” A scolding tone cut of Jason’s immediate panic. Two couch pillows slammed into Danny’s face, courtesy of goth girl and nerdy but strong.
“Dude, why do you start with that? Why are you like this?” His… possible kidnapper? asked, exasperatedly flinging his hands into the air as he rolled his eyes.
Goth girl scowled. “Boys. Crime lord, couch, remember?”
“Hey, in my defense, I died too!”
And that- as Jason remained dumbfounded in this circle of tomfoolery- was what snapped Jason out of his daze.
“You what?” He rasped out.
And when he saw them open their mouths at the same time, Jason just knew his headache was going worse.
——
Tucker, effortlessly plucking the actual red hood from the streets: and I whoop-
Jason, whose type is strong, nerdy, and tall: *heart eyes* *but not really because he’s unconscious*
——
Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker.”
Jason enters chat:
Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker and his boyfriend, the Red Hood.”
——
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Posting this here cause it’s been a while since I last posted and I am actually pretty proud of this…. I am making a mock RED brochure for my graphic design class and this is the cover…. I need five more panels I literally spent all of Wednesday working on this because text is my enemy and I am never satisfied with it but like actually taking a break from working on it and looking again later i was like “huh actually that’s not bad.” Sitka banner font easily in my top ten….
I was so proud of it I set it as my phones Home Screen…. Legitimately want to transfer to graphic design but I am torn. I currently am in studio art and have my own personal studio (it is shared between me and three friends tho), if I switch to graphic I lose that, and I really value my space cause I’ve been using it for like,,, four years pretty much (two I would sneak in there before I was in college cause my sibling owned it before I did, these past two it’s been my spot). It has memories and art work (that would REAAALLLYY suck to transport because there are LARGE pieces like LARGE) okau I will be real I am posting and rambling because I am stalling on cleaning my room… I am lazy……. I also just like to talk…. Accidentally woke up at 12 instead of 9 oops…
Work is REALLY gonna pile up this month…. I have a quilt, a weaving, and four papers for one class, my brochure and a 12 month calendar (obvi also gonna be tf2 themed calendar because i am insane…) for graphics, a screen print, and a paper and performance piece for another class… but I will make it thru E Z, after this I’m home free baby, summer is here ‘,B)
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