#the colour-coded mask...

[so-much-longing]

The three genders of my blog...

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Grian (Hermitcraft Season 10), and Goro Akechi (Persona 5).

I love that they can be summed up into:

Has Killed Before Will Kill Again (almost died for friends)(secretly controlled by a force larger than him).

THE FIIIISH. THE FISH THEY SPEAK TO ME. MENDINGGGGGGG.

Has Killed Before Will Kill Again (died (?) for friends)(secretly controlled by a force larger than him)

It's like I have my two little angst fics in the making, and then there's just Grian.

[autumnalmess]

Obsessed with categorising people, esp my blorbos.

Oh, you hate people putting you in boxes? Oh, you hate being labelled? TOO BAD, you're an enfp and bisexual and a ravenclaw and you watched Barbie but not Oppenheimer and if you were a colour, you'd be green and if you were a Cornetto trilogy film, you'd be hot fuzz and you're a rat not a frog and and and

[abyssalpriest]

thinking about this art of Ahi again.

[sunnymoonxx]

❝here i blur into you❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

summary: you've been stranded on an unknown island with your nemesis for weeks now, the air getting filled with unpalatable tension as you try to find a way to get away from him. one afternoon, the tension breaks as he offers his knowledge to help you train.

warnings: english is not my native language, reader also has a twin and has a similar situation as osha, reader is a bit paranoid, lot of foreplay from qimir, teasing, fingering, cunnilungus, vulgar terms,

now playing, acquainted by the weeknd

He smelled like sandalwood, filling the air every time he passed you by or handed you a plate of food. For the first few days, you ignored it, letting it brush against your nose, your thoughts concentrating on how to get out of the island or how to kill him without breaking the code. But after nights and nights of sleeping in the same cave, sharing his space, and smelling him in every corner, it started to drive you crazy.

You lost your nerves last morning during your hand-picked breakfast when he strolled into the cave after his morning swim, water still dripping from his hair, the smell punching you in the nose, leaving you dizzy and breathless. You didn't know where you wanted to go, but as you picked up your things and bottle of water, it wasn't your main concern.

The smell itself didn't bother you. He bothered you. You knew exactly what game he was playing. With your sister, he played the role of a big brother, older protecter that she always wanted and wished for. With you, his mask dropped, revealing a charming seductive character. Every time he handed you something, he towered over you, gazing into your eyes so intensely it made your knees shake. Or when he walked towards you, he took his time, his eyes going up and down your figure until they fixated on you, staring at you until he came so close you could feel his breath brushing over your face. The slightest touches of his hands, the knuckle strokes, the skin contact when he healed your wounds.

He was trying to seduce you, knowing your weaknesses, just so you'd turn your back on the jedi and stay with him. As a padawan, desire was one of the forbidden emotions, alongside hate, anger, and fear. You never felt the touch of another, not one you desired.

His act had its way with you. You didn't deny it, but it was just a role for him. A mask he put on whenever you were close. You wanted to know the real him and maybe even try to help him. Instead, you were met with lustful eyes and breathtaking smell of his. A few days ago, you returned his gaze when he spoke to you, to try to read his thoughts and emotions. You only saw the colour red.

After you stormed out of the cave, leaving Qimir wondering, you kept walking around for about thirty minutes before you found yourself surrounded by smaller rocks, standing ankles deep in a hot sand. It wasn't that far away from the cave but far enough to get away from him and his sandalwood smell.

You dropped your bottle and some spare clothes on one of the flat rocks, letting yourself fall on your ass, letting out an anxious breath. You had no idea what you were going to do, how to act, or how to survive the upcoming days. You were certain Sol was going to find you and save you. You started to think about Yord and Jecki. You weren't that close to Yord, even in your padawan days. Jecki, you knew from afar, but she always had a soft smile on her lips. Your heart ached for them, feeling guilty even if there was nothing you could do.

You sat there for hours, staring at your dirty shoes. You were frozen. You needed to train. You were sure there was going to be time when you would have to protect yourself against Qimir and his brute strength. He killed Yord with his bare hands. As long as you would attack his hands first, you'd be safe.

You found a branch, pictured it as a lightsaber, and started repeating over and over fighting methods you were taught by your master. You held up till the sunset, and when the sun rose again, you picked up the branch and started again.

You didn't bother with breaks. You kept going till your knees gave up, and your arms fell by your side. Your chest rose up and down fast as you sat down, the branch falling metres away from you. You rested your head against the closest rock, daring to close your eyes. You were away for almost a day, with no food, just water to keep you company. You slowly started to regret leaving so impulsively, but you had no idea what you would do if you'd stay another minute around the intoxicating smell of his.

You had to fall asleep, your body reacting to the unknown sound earlier than you. Trying to compose yourself as you rubbed your cheek, painful and red, from resting against the hard rock. You picked yourself up, turning around to find where the sound came from. It didn't take you long, for Qimir revealed himself, appearing just a few metres away from you, a bag around his shoulder. He took you in, scanning your body like he was searching for any weapons or injuries. He found nothing, only a thin branch right behind your feet.

"You could at least take some food." he broke the brooding silence and your mutual staring contest. His voice was soft, small tug on the corned of his lips. He wore his usual beige shirt, transparent to his muscles. You shook your head, trying to focus on something else than his forearms as he put down his bag to take out the stuff he brought you.

"I'm not hungry," you lied, holding steadily your position, scanning his every move. He took out all the food to put them on the rocks in front of you, gently, making sure not to drop anything. He didn't forget to bring you fresh water, new clothes and a lightsaber.

Lightsaber.

You took a quick step back at the sight of the lightsaber, your ankle meeting with a rock. He brought a lightsaber. He was going to kill you now. You were sure of it.

"It's for you," he read your mind, making himself a place to sit next to the food, lightsaber at the opposite end of the food row. He tilted his head, softly smiling at you. "The tide is going to end by tomorrow," he said, his eyes set low, eyebags underneath. "you could disappear."

"What do you want?" you asked, attitude and hidden fear in your voice. Why was he helping you. Why did he inform you about the tide and possible escape. Was he planning something?

"For you to eat," he smiled, his teeth showing up for a second. "I have no desire to hurt you or let you die of starvation." His hands rested on his lap, his eyes soft and gentle, morning sun reflecting in them. He was beautiful in this light. But you shook that though away.

"What's with the lightsaber," you pointed with your head to the weapon, not daring to move, feeling his eyes burn into your skin.

"I made it for you," he replied quietly, looking over at the saber. You flinched when he slowly stood up, walking towards it to pick it up, holding it so the handle could be in your direction. He was close, too close to your liking, a small circle of rocks surrounding you two. "Figured you'd want one." he purred, taking slow steps towards you, not breaking his gaze at you. Like he was waiting for you to run, taking in every detail of you.

He stopped at arm length, lifting the lightsaber to you. You didn't move to take it and just stared at it. It was small compared to his hand, plainly black.

"How long is it since you've held one?" he asked, almost in whisper, looking down at you with curiousity. You didn't answer, forcing to look away from the saber, mirroring his intense gaze. You tried to read him again but failed. You were too tired to even see one small thought. He took a step closer, instinctively you wanted to take a step back, but the rock behind you made you stumble, Qimir's arm catching you sharply, pulling you back up.

He was so close now that the saber handle was touching your ribs, his breath tickling your face again, the sandalwood, again, penetrating the air. You tried to move away, pushing against him, but he didn't move an inch. He looked like a marble statue against the light.

"Take it," he growled, shaking with the saber a little. When you still didn't move, he took your hand and placed it on the weapon, his grip strong and tense. "Turn it on," he moved even closer, the head of the lightsaber pushing against his abdomen.

Turn it on.

You repeated his words.

Turn it on and get it over with.

Only you couldn't. You tried to force your hand to move, but like someone froze it, it was paralyzed.

"I'm not like you." You managed to let out, breaking your neck to look up at him. "I don't attack the unarmed."

"When did I attack the defenceless?" he asked, still holding your arm firmly, keeping you standing in one place. His hair fell like a black curtain around his eyes that stared into yours, awaiting an answer.

"Jecki," your voice broke at the memory of her. She had no reason to be there. She should have been safe at the temple.

You heard him take a deep breath, his fingers slightly amplifying the pressure around your wrist. "She attacked first,"

"She was a child." You raised your voice, trying to move away from him but as much as you wanted he didn't let you.

"Your Master brought her there. He knew the risk." He replied, his voice soft and calm with no hints of remorse.

"What do you want?" You cried out, furrowing your eyebrows. You wanted to scream at him, punch him, fight him, erase the stupid smell he had that drove you crazy and confused your thoughts.

"For you to eat," he repeated, stupid smile dancing on his lips. For a second, you wondered why he wore a mask to hide his beautiful face, but you quickly erased it. With the final push, he let go of your arm and stared at you as you made your way towards the food. You devoured embarrassingly quickly, forgetting about the claim you weren't hungry. All the time he stood there, watching you carefully.

When you finished eating, you took advantage of the bird that took Qimir's attention for a moment to hide the fork and knife behind your belt. It was stupid, but it counted as something. You could sharpen it using the rocks and use it when he'd attack you in your sleep.

"Why won't you kill me?" You asked after you finished your plate, reaching for the water bottle. You felt his stare. Everywhere. At that point you didn't know if he was still playing the role of a whore or he just had a staring problem. Both options made you nervous.

"As I said, I have no desire to." He smiled, kneeling down to squat. He slowly started rolling up his sleeves, the scars on his arms now more visible than ever. His long, thick fingers were wrapped around the lightsaber, his other hand now hanging in the air.

It was useless talking to him. It was obvious before, ridiculous now. You nodded, accepting you won't get any honest answer out of him.

"Thanks for the food, you better get going now." You slowly stood up, your stomach full and warm. "Time for your daily swim." you added, hoping he'd leave you alone till tomorrow when you could swim to the other side and leave this abandoned island.

You didn't hear him letting out a chuckle, his dimples showing. "I can take one here," he pointed at the calm water in front of you, guarded by gigantic rocks.

Great.

"Do whatever you want," you murmured, trying to convince yourself you're okay with his presence. Naked presence. You saw him the first few days, where you followed him every morning, not trusting anything he said. He invited you to join him every time, and every time you didn't say anything, just stood on guard, scanning and taking in every movement he made.

He was well built, with big arms, strong back, and powerful legs. Was he stripping in front of you as a part of his act, or was he just that unbothered by your presence. You hoped it was neither. You rather got tricked than ignored.

"Okay," you heard him murmur, walking towards you for his clothes. You flinched, taking a big step away from him, finding the lightsaber lying in the sand. As he slowly made his way to the water and started to undress, you took the lightsaber in your hands, feeling it, remembering the last time you held it.

You started your routine again, this time with your lightsaber, the branch left lying in the sand. You were well aware he was watching you, motivating you to show off and not to embarrass yourself.

Minutes ran by before you heard a splash, Qimir walking out of the water. You didn't even think to turn around, but your body decided for you. Your head tilted his direction, your eyes going up and down his figure. It wasn't the first time you saw it but this time you saw it from a clear view.

Suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing the saliva forming in your mouth, your heart aggressively punching your ribs.

Focus.

You quickly turned your head back, hoping to remember what you were doing before you scanned his form. You wondered if it would hurt, or would it be pleasurable.

You felt shame thinking about these things, but you never received an answer. The Jedi around you never answered, and those outside you didn't trust.

The unknown heat overtook you again, you had to close your eyes to regain your focus. Instead, The Force directed you back to him. His grin fixated his lips as he put on his clothes, not bothering to dry himself. Water droplets falling from his hair to his shoulders, his muscles forming themselves against the skin-tight robe.

Opening your eyes, you took a glimpse of your lightsaber, unaware of Qimir slowly approaching you. You practised your movements, your hand twists, and leg work. You had to get used to the weight of the lightsaber after years of not touching one.

You stopped yourself from turning his direction when you felt his touch on your shoulders.

"Keep your shoulders back," he whispered, forcing your shoulders back into their correct position. You froze, now only focusing on the warmth reflecting of his body. He bent over so his lips could reach your ears, and his hands travelled down to your biceps. "Your elbows up. You have them too low." he simply added, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You pressed your legs together, unaware of your need.

You listened to him, tho, keeping your shoulders and elbows in the position he moved them. His hands didn't touch you fully, only tickling the surface of your skin, but it was enough to make you burn.

"You need to spread your legs," he added, hearing a small smile while informing you. You fought the urge to turn and hit him in the face with the lightsaber handle.

When you didn't listen, he forced his knee between your legs, forcing them apart.

"So you don't fall over," he whispered against your ear, the little hair on your neck standing up.

"I didn't ask for help," you uttered, bitterness in your tone. You wanted him gone, but not for the same reason you did yesterday. For the reason that he made you have physical reactions without touching you. Having to press your legs together because of his voice. Feeling your skin burn by feeling him pressed against your back.

"You obviously need it," He smiled against your earlobe before pulling back just to let his hands fall onto yours, checking the way you hold your saber. He fixed the placement of your fingers, his breath on your neck erasing all of your thoughts. His warm wet chest pressed against your back, his breath tickling you. Your ass pressed against his abdomen. It was all too much for you. You shouldn't be feeling this way.

Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he was charismatic and soft when he wanted to be. But he wield the power of the dark side. He couldn't be trusted. You were scared the dreams you were having so often might become true.

"Use your thumb," he woke you up from your thoughts, pushing himself against your back as he held your hands. His voice was low and dark. "Place it on the top to hold it steadily. That way, it won't slip out of your hands, and you won't have to use strength to keep it in place." Even the way he talked and taught you almost drove you over the edge. You knew that's what he wanted and fought hard against it.

"I know how to hold a lightsaber." You hissed, shaking off his hands. Regretting it as his hands found its way to your lower back, pushing in, you had to hold back a moan,

"Straight posture." he simply said, ignoring you, leaving his hands on the back of your hips. You focused on taking deep breaths, hoping the heat between your legs would go away.

Almost as if he felt it, his hands moved from the back to the front, tickling the exposed skin of your stomach. You wanted to cry out, his touch driving you insane. You wanted to do something and, at the same time, nothing. You wanted him to take you, but you also wanted to drive the lightsaber through his skull.

"You won't fight anyone without a straight posture," he emphasized, pushing his fingers into your stomach, holding you in place.

"I've fought many people without you before." you replied angrily, a small moan leaving your lips at the end of the sentence as he moved his fingers lower, under your belly button.

"And did you win?" he mocked you, whispering into your ear. His hands right above the place you used your fingers while wishing they were his.

You were done with his stupid comments and mockery, pushing against him to turn and punch him, but he didn't let you move a muscle. He was too strong.

"What do they teach you," he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. "They don't teach you how to stand still or how to hold a lightsaber. Only how to surpress your emotions to become a hollow shell."

"That's not true," you argued. "We are taught to control our emotions, to feel them but not to let them get the best out of us."

"So why do you supress what you really want?" his voice turned into whisper again, his thumb making circling motion on your lower stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew you were about to give up.

"Why do you shy away from your desire?" he added, using little to no strength to bring you skin to skin to him, feeling his length on your lower back.

Accidental moan left your lips. You closed your eyes out of embarrassment, wishing he didn't hear that. But you weren't that stupid.

"It's the path, path to the dark side." you stumbled over your words, feeling his fingers go lower, right above the belt of your pants.

Fuck.

"Then stop me," he whispered, his index finger going slowly underneath the hem of your pants. "Stop my hand. I'll let you." he added.

You didn't move a muscle. Only rested your head against his chest and let your arms fall by your side, lightsaber falling into the sand. You wanted him, and he wanted you. There was no reason to fight it. That was a problem for your future self.

"Tell me," he purred, his right hand painfully slowly maling their way to the hem of your panties. "Has anyone ever touched you like this?"

He was mocking you, playing with you. He knew no one ever had. You didn't count. "No," was your simple answer, wanting to dig yourself a deep hole in the ground and bury yourself in it.

"How does it feel?" he asked, his fingers finally reaching your wet bundle of nerves, slowly starting to circle your clit. You grabbed his arm out of shock, digging your nails into his skin. It felt too good. You were dripping wet, it was too easy for him to find your weak spot.

"As a Jedi, you can't even be with the people you love," he murmured into your ear before starting to leave small kisses down to your neck. "Can't give them the pleasure they deserve."

His fingers started to go up and down your clit, always stopping right before your entrance. You wanted to start begging for him to take you, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself more than you already have. You didn't pay attention to anything he was saying, only focusing on his fingers driving you crazy, making it difficult to keep a steady stance.

"What kind of life is that? Hmm?" His sloppy kisses and his fingers teasing your core themselves, almost had you falling over the edge. You were so touch deprived you were surprised you didn't cum when he touched you for the first time.

"Qimir," you cried out, wanting his fingers inside of you already. The first time, you said his name out loud. And he listened. His fingers stopped their movements, deserving an annoyed groan from you. He took them out of your pants, placing them on your waist to circle you so he could be face to face with you.

He didn't say anything before he bent his legs, kneeling in front of you, letting the sand swallow him. He looked up at you with pitch-black eyes, hinting on your pants. You understood, taking your time but nodding, letting him take off your pants and underwear.

The urge to cover your face and run away was strong, but the feeling of his mouth on your clit was stronger. You cried out hard, grabbing his hair as he dipped his tongue between your folds. This is what the Jedi deprived you of. You wanted to scream.

Qirim's tongue moved with rhythm against your dripping cunt, his fingers holding you still by your hips. Your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging on them every time he moved his tongue, teasing your entrance.

"Fuck," you hissed, your knees bending. Qimir quickly caught you, not stopping assaulting your clit. "Qimir, please," you begged. You weren't sure what you were wishing for anymore, but his name in your mouth felt almost as good as his tongue felt between your folds.

Your arms moved from his hair to his shoulders, holding yourself steady when his hand left your hip to put them between your legs. You caught a glimpse of his face when you looked down. Lustful dark eyes, messy hair, sweaty against his forehead, his nose and mouth covered in your slick. The view itself almost had you cumming on his tongue. So when his fingers joined the game, pushing inside of you, betwen your walls you let a pornographic moan. You were alone on this island but if someone was on the other end, you were certain they could hear you.

His fingers moved fast, in and out of you, spreading and curling inside of you. He was gentle with you at first but as he felt you getting closer and closer to the edge he threw all the respect out of the window, fucking you mercilessly with his thick fingers.

If his mouth and fingers had you screaming his name you wondered how his cock would feel.

"Qimir, I'm- " you cried out, wanting to warn him, but he felt it. The way your walls started to contract, crushing his fingers inside of you. His tongue kept circling your clit, adding to the pleasure. You were sure you formed new scars on his shoulders as you came hard around his fingers and tongue, failing to catch your breath and keep your legs straight and strong.

He held you for a few minutes as you rested against him, his lips still glossy with your wetness. Without thinking, you bended over to press your lips against his, tasting yourself, mixed with the flavor of him.

[mudisgranapat]

This is so Simon Riley as a boys dad coded.

Yes Simon is very girl dad coded BUT i imagine him as wanting a big family (3-4 kids) once he decided to start a family (I picture 2 older boys and twin baby girls😭).

He never thought about having kids, with his past and his profession, but that all changes once you two meet. And then, after the first kid, he just can’t get enough of it. All he can think about is how good you look carrying his babies and caring for them.

He loves getting home to the absolute chaos of children running around in every direction, laughter and yells echoing in the house. The first thing he would do is draw you a bath, bring a glass of your favourite drink and let you rest while he gets the kids ready for bed. He would then give you a massage once the kids are sleeping, telling you how good you look taking care of his children.

In the morning, the would let you sleep in, having the boys set the table while he does the girls’ hair, clipping multi-colour hair clips all over their head. He would wake you up once the kids are ready, table is set and he has started cooking breakfast.

During the week, he was the one that got the kids under control, teaching them young the discipline of a soldier. He would have them do chores around the house and learn how to do things by themselves from a young age.

But during weekends… it was total chaos. You would lay on the couch, reading a book and drinking some tea your husband made, while your kids ran around in every direction. Sometimes they would play tag, the four of them running trying to catch Simon. Other times, they would play football in the backyard (and sometimes inside the house, until you give Simon a warning look).

But their FAVOURITE game was special ops. Simon would hide while the kids looked for him, covered in toy gear from head to toe. Obviously, wearing masks, just like their daddy. They would wreak havoc, sponge bullets flying in every direction, and Simon would not spare them.

He would jump from balconies, hide in bushes, even going as far as setting up cameras to surprise them. Most of the time, you would just watch in awe, laughing your ass of. On some occasions, you would secretly form and alliance with your husband, hiding a small water gun under the couch pillow, jumping the kids when they eventually came to you for help, trying to bribe Simon’s location out of you with snacks.

By the end of the day, you would all be exhausted from running around the house. After everyone was showered and changed, you would lay on the couch together. You would cuddle into Simon’s chest while the kids found a spare limb to burrow under. The girls always pick the movie, and the six of you would fall asleep on the couch, one of the girls clutching Simon’s “Ghost” mask. He would chuckle to himself, thinking about how never, in a million years, he thought Ghost would bring so much happiness into the world.

[huggingkoalas]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 | natasha romanoff

pairing — ‧₊˚ avenger!natasha romanoff x fem!singlemother!reader

summary — ‧₊˚ after a series of misfortunes, a knight in shining armor saves you and exacts retribution for you.

word count — ‧₊˚ 4.8k

warning(s) — ‧₊˚ tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort(?), pet names (sweetheart, love), cursing, gambling, natasha and reader having a crush on each other, mentions of alcohol, punching, reader getting hurt, bruises, reader having the cutest moments with daughter, mentions of guns, clint being such a w in this fic, implied character death (not natasha or reader), mentions of drugs

authors note — ‧₊˚ finally finished this request sent a month ago :’) this isn’t the best i’ve written, but awjfjaw the amount of soft fluffy moments between reader and daughter is absolutely adorable :3 <3

The dimly lit basement was illuminated by flickering neon lights outside, which created an unsettling colour through the stained glass. Even though it was late, the passing of time didn’t seem to matter as hopeless souls gathered to drown themselves in their sorrows. It was almost suffocating, the smell of cigarettes mingled with human perspiration and the tainted air from spilt alcohol.

Natasha surveyed the room, her keen eyes taking in the shabby decor — mismatched furniture, cracked tiles, and worn-out leather chairs. Her eyes then darted to the motley collection of people surrounding a table. Their murmurs blended into the low hum of an old jukebox playing a melancholic tune. Her eyes moved from one weary face to another. Huddled together, an older woman with a permanent scowl etched into her face, a burly figure with a nervous tic in his left eye, and a muscular man — a sleek, smooth-talking gambler known only as Victor. 

But amongst all of them, her gaze lingered on you, the youngest woman in the group, whose eyes never left the cards in hand. 

Natasha could sense your frustration, the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat and the way your hands trembled slightly as you placed your bet, the deep sigh that escaped your lips. It was clear you were in over your head, just like so many others around the table.

Natasha took a slow sip of her cup of water, letting the liquid warmth quench her thirst. She knew that she couldn’t afford to get distracted by alcohol, not tonight. Victor, her target for tonight, was slippery, a master at evading the law and anyone who dared to challenge him. Not only did he like gambling and taking money away from the poor, but he was rumoured to be involved in something much darker — involving a new drug that was beginning to surface on the streets. It was whispered about in hushed tones, but S.H.I.E.L.D. caught wind of it, of its effects unknown but rumoured to be potent and addictive.

Furthermore, it was obvious to Natasha that Victor was cheating. The man dealing the cards was one of his henchmen, subtly slipping him the cards he needed to win. Natasha’s keen observation skills caught the sleight of hand and the coded signals exchanged between Victor and his accomplice. 

She had been assigned to a solo mission to capture him. Not only was she doing her job as an Avenger, but she also wanted justice. She wanted to exact revenge for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, for those whose lives Victor had ruined.

Her eyes flicked back to Victor, who was grinning as he raked in another pile of chips. His smooth demeanour masked the predator within, but Natasha could see the calculating glint in his eyes. She’d spent days tracking him, gathering evidence, and now she was finally confident and close enough to take him down.

But first, she had a pull in her gut to ensure you got out of this mess. A feeling to help the weak, perhaps. Natasha couldn’t shake the feeling that you were here not by choice but by necessity. Perhaps you had debts to pay or were trying to find a way out of a bad situation. Either way, she couldn’t just stand by and watch you fall deeper into an abyss.

She pushed off from the bar and made her way towards the table. 

“Mind if I join?” Natasha asked in a firm but calm voice. She pulled out a chair beside you and sat down without waiting for an answer. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash, placing it on the table.

 Victor’s smile widened for a brief moment before he regained his composure. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “The more, the merrier.”

Natasha glanced around the table. “I don’t have the money in chips,” she said, “but I think this should cover it.”

The dealer nodded, exchanging her cash for a stack of chips. Natasha arranged them in front of her, drawing the attention of everyone around. You shifted again in your seat, trying to focus on your cards, but the sight of Natasha only made you lose more focus. Her beauty was captivating, with her striking features framed by waves of red hair that fell elegantly around her shoulders. Her green eyes, sharp and piercing, reminded you of the vivid colour of an emerald gemstone. You could get lost in them.

It was hard not to be mesmerised by her, especially when she kept turning her gaze towards you, her expression softening with a hint of encouragement as she offered a reassuring nod. The action made your stomach flutter, and you could almost feel your heart beat faster. Her beauty was a distraction, and you felt a pang of frustration as you realised you were going to get distracted by someone as beautiful as Aphrodite.

Fuck, how were you going to win and pay off your debts if you were this weak to attraction?

Natasha seemed to sense your struggle. She leaned in slightly, whispering. “Focus, love.”

The nickname sent a shiver up your spine, and you let out a shaky exhale as you gripped your cards tighter. Natasha knew she was beautiful, there was no denying that, but she didn’t realise that it’d have such a huge effect on you. She rubbed her teeth against her lower lip, a light blush colouring her cheeks.

Victor’s eyes flicked between you, his interest piqued by Natasha’s involvement. He could see your distraction, and it amused him. To him, you were just another easy prey. He leaned back, confident that the game was in his favour.

And he was right. Despite Natasha’s encouragement, your bad luck continued. As the last of your chips disappeared, you slumped back in your chair, defeated. Natasha frowned, reaching over and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

You shook your head, giving Natasha a feigned smile. “It’s fine.”

Victor leaned back smugly, watching the exchange in front of him. “Tough luck,” he said, his tone dripping with false sympathy. He shrugged his shoulders, smirking. “Maybe next time.”

Natasha’s eyes locked onto Victor’s, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t count on it,” she replied. 

She stood up, helping you to your feet. As you left the table, a permanent frown etched on your face as a series of thoughts swirled in your mind. You couldn’t shake off the bitterness of your defeat, the image of all the money you’d earned slipping away like leaves in the wind. You replayed the game, doubt gnawing on you as you questioned every decision you made at the table. 

As Natasha and you stepped outside, the flickering neon lights from the street lamps cast an even brighter eerie hue over the street. 

Natasha looked at you, an expression of concern on her face. She didn’t know why she made a split-second decision to help you instead of taking down her Victor. She had her chance. She was right there. She could’ve waited at the bar longer until he’d gotten his fill of money for tonight, before capturing him quietly in the alleyway. But when she saw you — dishevelled, your hair a mess, and your knee jumping nervously — desperation radiating from your every movement, she knew she couldn’t just focus on her primary goal. You needed a lifeline, and she couldn’t deny that. Natasha knew that helping you was the right choice, even if it meant delaying her mission. She had to believe that some things were more important than revenge.

She’ll get him the next time.

“You okay?” she asked softly. 

You nodded, but your eyes looked so void of life. 

With a sigh of sympathy, Natasha added. “Listen, I know I’m just a stranger, but-”

You glanced at her and interrupted her, sounding sceptical. You spoke, your voice hardly audible above a whisper, “Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

Natasha’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for the right words. She didn’t have a simple answer. She had spent so long focused on her mission that this unexpected detour caught her off guard. It wasn’t like her to lose sight of her mission’s goal this easily.

After a moment, she finally spoke. “You looked like you needed help,” she said simply, her tone even, almost indifferent. She didn’t want to show the hurricane of emotions inside her. 

You stared at her, trying to read her expression, but her face easily concealed her feelings. She was frustrated at herself for getting distracted, of course. But the only person she could blame was herself.

Natasha looked away, scanning the street as if assessing the surroundings for any potential threats. “Let’s get you home safe,” she said.

You nodded, still unsure of what to make of her. You knew it was reckless, bringing a stranger into your home, especially with your daughter inside. Or maybe you wanted to spend a few more minutes with Natasha before she’d just be another stranger on the streets. A combination of confusion and exhaustion clouded your judgment. You were too tired to care, too drained to weigh the potential negative consequences. You just wanted to get through the night before your shift tomorrow.

You led Natasha to your apartment building, a run-down structure that seemed to sag under the weight of its disrepair. The smell of decay and neglect permeated the air. The stairwell echoed with sounds of a couple arguing and a baby crying as the both of you climbed the creaking stairs.

When you reached your floor, you stopped in front of your apartment door with a sigh of relief. Natasha’s gaze wandered to the door across from yours. It was her apartment, but she didn’t think it was worth mentioning for now. Instead, she noted the rusty doorknob and peeling paint on your door.

You fumbled for your keys, trembling slightly, and unlocked the door. As it swung open, you were greeted by the sight of your daughter standing just inside, her wide eyes filled with worry and relief.

“Mama,” she whispered, rushing forward to wrap her small arms around your waist. You hugged her tightly, the tension in your shoulders easing in her embrace.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” you asked your daughter, your voice straining to mask the exhaustion in your voice. “You should be asleep.”

She nodded, her eyes still wide with concern. “Had a nightmare. Couldn’t sleep without you.”

Your heart ached at her words. “I’m here now,” you reassured her, stroking her hair gently.

Natasha watched the scene with a softened expression. Despite her tough exterior, the sight of your daughter’s innocent concern and your tender actions tugged at something deep within her. She felt a tingling deep in the pit of her stomach, and an endearing smile appeared on her face. She followed you quietly, clicking the door closed behind her.

“Mhm.” Her gaze shifted to Natasha. “Who’s this, Mama?” she asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

“This is…” 

Shit, you didn’t even know her name. 

Natasha smiled, crouching down to your daughter’s level. “Hi there,” she said warmly. “My name’s Natasha. I’m… your Mama’s friend from work. I love your toy lion.” She said, pointing to your daughter’s stuffed toy lion held tightly to her chest.

Your daughter perked up a little. Natasha stood up, her expression shifting back to one of attentiveness as she looked at you.

“Alright, sweetheart,” you said, gently guiding your daughter towards her bedroom. “It’s time for bed. Go get in bed and I’ll tuck you in shortly.”

Your daughter smiled, giving Natasha a wave of her hand before excitedly heading to her room. You watched her go and made sure she went into her bedroom before turning to Natasha.

You finally introduced yourself. “I’m sorry for all this… And I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Y/N. Thanks for accompanying me home tonight.”

Natasha gave a small, understanding smile. “It’s alright. I had to make sure you got home safe.”

“I appreciate it, but you don’t have to stay. We’ll be fine.”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll leave you be, but if you ever need anything, I’m just across the hall.”

You looked surprised. “You live here?”

Natasha gave a slight shrug. “Yeah, I just moved in a few days ago. It’s a small world, I guess.”

You managed a tired smile before taking her hand and squeezing it. She squeezed your hand back. You pressed a gentle, soft kiss to her cheek which, in turn, made her smile. “Well, thank you, again, Natasha, and goodnight. I hope we cross paths again.”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed as she nodded, quickly making her way to the door. “Goodnight,” she said softly, giving you one last reassuring look before stepping out into the dimly lit hallway.

As the door closed behind her, you felt a strange mix of relief and gratitude. You turned back to your daughter’s room, the faint sound of her getting ready for bed pulling you back to the present. For now, you could move on from your streak of bad luck tonight, and you could focus on what mattered most — taking care of your little girl.

Natasha made her way back to her apartment, leaning against the door as she let out a slight squeal of happiness. She touched her cheek, feeling the lingering warmth on her skin where you had kissed her. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, an unexpected rush of emotion making her feel like a schoolgirl experiencing her first crush. She felt a sense of protectiveness and a growing bond with you, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time.

Shaking the thoughts away, she remembered what she wanted to do. She pulled out her phone and dialled Clint’s number.

Clint answered on the second ring. “Hey, Natasha. What’s up?” 

“Hey, Clint,” Natasha replied, her voice low. “I need you to do a background check for me.”

“On who?”

“Y/N,” she said, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “I don’t have her last name, but she lives across the hall from me.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing yet,” Natasha replied, choosing her words carefully. “But I have a feeling she might need some help.”

“Alright, give me five minutes. I’ll see what I can find,” Clint said, his tone serious.

“Thanks, Clint. I owe you one.”

“Just looking out for you, Nat. Take care.”

Natasha hung up the phone, feeling a combination of apprehension and determination. She may have left you and your daughter for the night, but she wasn’t about to let you slip through the cracks.

The next morning, you woke up feeling slightly refreshed than the night before, but you could still feel the exhaustion in your bones. You rubbed your eyes and stretched, trying to shake off the grogginess. As you glanced around the room, you noticed your daughter curled up beside you, still fast asleep. You accidentally fell asleep in her bedroom.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her face. “Mama’s gotta get ready for work. Sleep well, sweetheart.”

She stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. With a sigh, you reluctantly removed yourself from the warmth of the bed and made your way to your bedroom to get ready for work. You were in need of a much-needed shower to wash off the grime from last night. But as you reached for the doorknob, a series of knocks from the front door interrupted your thoughts, causing your heart to race with anticipation. 

Could it be Natasha, returning to check on you?

With a hopeful smile, you swung open the door, only to be met with a sight that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t Natasha standing there. It was Victor, the smooth-talking gambler from the night before, and also your debt collector. Your smile dropped instantly.

“Where’s the money you owe me, huh?”

Your throat tightened with apprehension as you stepped out into the hallway, closing your door behind you. You didn’t want to wake up your daughter. “I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, your words barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “I don’t have it right now, but I’ll get it to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

But Victor wasn’t interested in apologies or promises. His eyes narrowed with disdain as he cut you off, his tone seething with anger. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t pay bills, and you’re also behind on rent. I’ve been kind enough to give you a chance to win some money last night,” he spat, his words like venom. “This is the second time you haven’t gotten me my money on time. You think I’m running a fucking charity here?”

You knew you were in deep trouble. 

“I-”

“I’ve had enough of your excuses,” he growled, cutting you off. “You’re out of chances.”

Before you could react, Victor’s fist collided with your jaw with a sickening thud, sending shockwaves of pain coursing through your body. Stars danced in your vision as you stumbled backwards, the taste of iron filling your mouth.

You tried to defend yourself desperately, but Victor’s relentless onslaught on your body left you helpless, your attempts futile against his brute strength. Blow after blow rained down upon you, each one driving you further into agony.

He didn’t stop until you lay battered on the floor. 

Victor spat at your feet. “You have until tomorrow,” he snarled, his voice dripping with malice. “Get me my money, or next time, it won’t just be a beating you’ll receive.”

As he turned to leave, you struggled to push yourself up from the ground, pain shooting through every limb as you clung to consciousness. You struggled with each breath, your body screaming for mercy. Your vision was blurred, sounds muffling into a distant echo as you succumbed to unconsciousness.

Natasha returned from her morning run, her breath coming in steady puffs of steam in the chilly air as she walked up the stairs to her apartment. As she approached the corridor, her eyes landed on a figure slumped against the door of the apartment across from hers. She quickened her pace, her heart hammering in her chest at the sight before her. You lay unconscious on the ground, your body broken and bruised. She rushed to your side, dropping to her knees as she assessed the extent of your injuries.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed, her voice filled with panic. “Can you hear me?”

Gently, Natasha cradled your head in her lap, shaking your shoulders with urgency to rouse you from your unconscious state. “Come on, wake up.” she urged.

You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. “Natasha?” you mumbled weakly, recognising her voice after awhile. Confusion was evident in your voice as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over you, forcing you back down. Natasha’s expression softened with concern as she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Easy now,” she said soothingly. “You’re injured. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

Natasha managed to get you to your feet, albeit unsteadily. You leaned against her as she helped you into her apartment. Once inside, she guided you to her couch, where you could rest while she fetched an ice pack.

You scanned your surroundings. Your eyes widened in surprise as they landed on the dining table. Stacks of reports and files littered the surface, but what caught your attention were the numerous guns laid out neatly beside them. You couldn’t help but gulp nervously at the sight.

“What’s all this?” You asked, your voice weak but curious, gesturing towards the array of firearms.

Natasha didn’t have to look at you to know that you were talking about the guns. She paused, stilling herself before she sighed. She turned to face you, her expression unreadable as she returned with the ice pack from the freezer compartment of the fridge.

“Work stuff.” She replied cryptically. It was obvious to you that she didn’t want to continue the conversation further. She handed you the ice pack. “Here, hold this against your cheek, it should help with the swelling.”

You accepted the ice pack gratefully, pressing it against your sore cheek with a wince.

Natasha had a frown on her face as she watched you silently for a moment before finally speaking up. “Who did this to you, Y/N?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much you should reveal. You kept repeating to yourself that Natasha was a stranger, a beautiful and potentially dangerous stranger in fact, but no one had ever cared for you as much as her. Not even your ex-husband gave you this much concern. Seeing the genuine worry in Natasha’s eyes, you sighed, leaning back against the backrest.

“It was Victor,” you said, your face cringing as you uttered his name. “He’s been pursuing me to get the money I owe him.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened with rage as her expression darkened. She whispered under her breath, “That fucking bitch.” Her imagination was already running wild with all the things she would do to him if she got her hands on him. 

She turned to face you again, her gaze softening. “Would you like me to call the hospital? Or perhaps bring your daughter here?”

You shook your head, feeling sick to your stomach at the idea of bringing your daughter into this mess. “No hospitals.” You firmly declared.  “I don’t want her seeing me like this.”

Natasha respected your choice and nodded understandingly. “Alright, then,” she softly answered. “You should get some rest.”

“I have work today,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself to push yourself up from the couch. “I need to get the money for Victor.”

You really couldn’t afford work today, not with Victor’s threat hanging over you. You couldn’t even begin to think about what would happen if you didn’t get his money ready. Fear gripped you as you thought about your daughter. What if he came after your daughter? You couldn’t bear the thought of Victor hurting her. 

Natasha gently placed a hand on your chest, pushing you down to the couch. “You can’t go to work looking like this,” she said, huffing. “You need to rest and heal. I’ll handle things from here.”

You looked at her, trying to argue. “But-”

“No buts,” Natasha interrupted, softening her tone. “You’re in no condition to work. I’ll figure something out for you. Just focus on getting better, alright?”

Seeing no point in arguing, you sighed and nodded, letting yourself relax back on the couch. “Alright,” you conceded, wincing as another jolt of pain shot through your body. “Thank you, Natasha.”

Honestly, you couldn’t fathom what you had done to deserve kindness from someone like Natasha, particularly considering the constant stream of misfortune that seemed to follow you like a shadow. Gratitude was a foreign emotion to you. Unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. It warmed your heart. You were grateful that some higher being brought her into your life at your lowest point.

“Don’t mention it, love,” she replied, giving you a reassuring smile. “Now, get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Natasha stepped out of the apartment and pulled out her phone as she closed the door. She quickly dialled Clint’s number, her mind already formulating a plan.

“Hey, Nat,” Clint’s voice came through the line. “What’s up?”

“I need your help,” Natasha said, her voice laced with urgency. “There’s a situation with Victor. He beat up my neighbour, Y/N, and things might be getting dangerous. I need you to come here with the Quinjet and get her and her daughter back to the Avengers compound. They’re not safe here anymore, and she refuses to get treatment from the hospital.”

Clint didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hang tight, Nat.”

“Thanks, Clint,” Natasha replied, relief washing over her.

Natasha hung up and returned to your apartment. She found you lying on the couch, eyes closed but not quite asleep. You opened your eyes when you heard the door close, giving her a questioning look.

She sat down beside you, her expression serious yet gentle. “My friend, Clint, he’s coming to get you and your daughter out of here,” she began. “He’s one of my closest friends, and he’s someone I trust with my life. He’s on his way with the Quinjet. It’s a high-tech aircraft and it’ll get you to the Avengers Compound safely and quickly.”

You gave her a confused look. “Avengers Compound?”

Natasha nodded. “Mhm. I guess I haven’t really explained what I do. I’m… an Avenger. I’m in a team with other individuals with special abilities and skills who protect the world from threats. My job is to keep people safe, and right now, that means you and your daughter.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? Won’t I be in the way?”

“You won’t be in the way,” Natasha assured you. “The Compound is probably the safest place for you, and you can get the treatment you need there. You’ll be safe there, and I’ll figure out how to deal with Victor so he can’t hurt you again.”

“Alright… Thanks, again, Natasha. I really owe you twice, now.”

“It’s fine, love. Just get the rest you need.”

You woke up, and immediately you could feel your head pounding. The sterile smell of antiseptics hit you like a brick. As your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, you realised you were in an unfamiliar place. The room was quiet, save for the soft beeping of medical equipment.

Panic started to set in until you spotted Natasha, a familiar figure slumped in a chair beside your bed. She was asleep, her head resting on her arm. The position she was in looked really uncomfortable, you could imagine the strain she’d feel on her neck once she woke up. At least she was here, and the sight of her made you relieved.

You took in your surroundings, noticing the high-tech medical equipment and the pristine cleanliness of the room. This wasn’t a regular hospital. Where were you?

You shifted slightly, wincing at the pain, but the movement was enough to wake Natasha. Her eyes fluttered open and she quickly straightened up, her gaze locking onto yours.

“You’re awake,” she said softly.

“Where am I?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“The Avengers Compound,” Natasha replied. “You fainted back at my apartment, but we got you out of there. You’re safe now.”

You relaxed further into the bed, closing your eyes for a moment. “You’ve done so much for me, Natasha. I really don’t deserve this,” you whispered.

Your words barely scratched the surface of how you felt.

She reached out and gently held your hand. She held your hand to her lips, kissing your knuckles with gentleness. “It’s alright, love.”

You pulled the blankets to your cheeks, covering the redness seeping up your cheeks at her tender and sweet action. “What happened with Victor?”

“Let’s just say he… won’t be disturbing you ever again.” Natasha shrugged.

Before you could respond, the door to the infirmary burst open, and a small whirlwind of energy barreled into the room. Your daughter ran straight to your bedside. Behind her, Clint stood in the doorway, waving at Natasha.

“Mama!” Your daughter cried, throwing her arms around you as carefully as she could. “I was so scared!”

You hugged her back, ignoring the pain that flared in your body. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” you whispered, stroking her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”

Clint stepped forward. “Hey, I’m Clint, Natasha’s friend.” He pointed to your daughter. “Your daughter’s been worried sick about you. Couldn’t keep her away from this room forever.”

Natasha gently lifted your daughter from under her armpits and placed her beside you on the bed. She couldn’t help but soften as she watched the reunion. 

Your daughter looked up at Natasha. “Thank you for helping my Mama,” she said earnestly.

Natasha ruffled your daughter’s hair. “It was my pleasure. Your mom’s a tough cookie, just like you.”

Clint stepped closer, giving your shoulder a kind and supportive squeeze. “You’re in good hands here in the Avengers Compound. You’re part of our family now and we’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Your daughter nestled closer to you, her presence a comforting reminder of what mattered most. “Thank you, Natasha. Thank you, Clint. I don’t know how to repay you.”

Natasha smiled nervously, hesitating her next words. She glanced away from you, rubbing her thumb over your hand. “There’s a way you can repay me, actually. Go on a date with me?”

[officialclangen]

Hi!! i was looking through the masterpost and couldn't find anything for it, so i wanted to ask- is there any guide to how cats would be described in the allegiances page in-game? ex. a rosette cat being described as "oddly-spotted" etc. i wanna use similar descriptors for cats, but the page only accounts for alive cats inside the clan, so i was wondering if theres any list of what pelt traits indicate what description is used?

Well, there was no resource for this, but let's make one now! I peeked into the files to grab the descriptors for you :]

Below the readmore, this is very long as I included everything that goes into it! Hopefully it helps <3

☆ Fable ☆

Colour Descriptors

"pale"— White

Only called "pale" if the cat is not singlecolour, twocolour, tortoiseshell, or calico. In these cases, it is called "white"

"pale gray"— Palegrey

"gray"— Grey

"dark gray"— Darkgrey

"pale ginger"— Paleginger

"dark ginger"— Darkginger, Sienna

"light brown"— Lightbrown, Lilac

"golden brown"— Golden-brown

"dark brown"— Darkbrown, Chocolate

"black"— Ghost

Colours that are listed the same as they are coded— Silver, Golden, Ginger, Brown, Black

Pattern Descriptors

"[colour] tabby"— Tabby, Marbled, Mackerel, Classic, Agouti, Sokoke

"speckled [colour]"— Speckled

"unusually dappled [colour]"— Bengal

"unusually spotted [colour]"— Rosette

"[colour] ticked"— Ticked

"[colour] smoke"— Smoke

"dorsal-striped [colour]"— Singlestripe

"masked [colour] tabby"— Masked

Tortoiseshell Descriptors

"[colour]"— [Base colour]/[Patch colour]

Base colour refers to the main colour, while patch colour refers to the colour of the cats patches. They are always written with the slash between them Examples: brown/ginger, pale gray/black

"[colour] tortie"— A tortoiseshell with either no white patch, or a white patch that is either classed as little white or mid white.

"[colour] calico"— A tortoiseshell with a white patch that is either classed as high white or mostly white.

"[colour] mottled"— A tortoiseshell whose base colour and patch colours are both in the brown, black, or white category

They do not need to both be in the same category, just one of those three; a lilac and ghost tortoiseshell will be listed as mottled, for example, but a lilac and ginger tortoiseshell will not

"[descriptor] tabby"— If a tortoiseshell has the pelt type Tabby, Ticked, Mackerel, Classic, Sokoke, Agouti, Bengal, Rosette, or Speckled, "tabby" is added after the descriptor.

Example: A Lilac and Ginger tortoiseshell tabby with the Rosette pattern and no white patches would be listed as a "light brown/ginger tortie tabby"

White Patch Descriptors

"[colour] and white"— A non-tortoiseshell with a white patch that is either classed as little white, mid white, or high white.

Can also be a tortoiseshell with a white patch that is either classed as little white or mid white

"white and [colour]"— A non-tortoiseshell with a white patch that is classed as mostly white.

"white"— A cat with the Fullwhite patch, regardless of what colour they are underneath. Overwrites their main colour

This is different to a singlecolour white cat as they have a different pelt type underneath the patch. Fullwhite cats that are tortoiseshell underneath are listed as calico on their profile page, but not the allegiances

"[colour] point"— A cat with one of the point markings

If a cat is a point under the ginger category, they are listed as a flame point

Gender Descriptors

"she-cat"— Female, Trans Female

"tom"— Male, Trans Male

"cat"— All other identities

Extra Descriptors

"vitiligo"— A cat with vitiligo

Missing body parts have special listings, as follows;

"no tail"— NoTail "half a tail"— HalfTail "three legs"— NoPaw "a missing ear"— NoLeftEar, NoRightEar "no ears"— NoEar

Vitiligo and missing body parts are joined together as "vitiligo, [scar], [scar] and [scar]"

"scarred [colour]"— A cat with three or more scars

"long-furred [colour]"— A cat with long fur

Putting it Together

For a non-tortoiseshell with no white patches:

a [extra] [colour] [pattern/tortoiseshell] [white] [gender] with [extra]

You would remove any non-used sections. Examples below;

a long-furred dorsal-striped pale gray tom with vitiligo and three legs

a dark ginger/light brown tortie tabby she-cat

a scarred white and unusually spotted black cat

a long-furred scarred light brown/black mottled point she-cat with no tail, three legs and a missing ear

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Wrong One 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Raymond Smith

Summary: You get caught up in the double lives of your employers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You hitch up the cloth bag on your shoulder, another in your hand, flat soles scuffing over the geometric stonework of the walkway. You take the single step up and pass between the perfectly trimmed hedges. You press your phone between cheek and shoulder as you key in the code to the punch pad with definitive beeps.

"Yes, Mrs. Malfort would like the delivery tomorrow morning," you confirm, "yes, please... mhmm."

You push inside and set the bag in your hand on the side table. You slip the other down your arm and put it with the other. You rest your phone between them, gripping the edge as you lift a foot to unlace your shoe.

You look up as you sense movement in the mirror mounted above the table and gasp. Suddenly, you're taken off your feet as a man in a mask clamps his gloved hand over your mouth. You squeak into the leather paw and kick you as you grasp his wrist. What the hell is going on?

The man grunts as you wriggle against him, his other arm hooking around your middle. Another man appears from the next doorway and grabs your legs. Your panic surges as you claw and writhe. You don't understand what's going on.

"Christ," the one at your back growls through his throat, "this one's fiesty."

"Stop fucking around," the other deliberately lowers his voice an octave.

"Tell me to stop, eh?" The first man brings his thick arm around your neck, flexing against your throat until you're breathless.

"Now, sweetheart, you just be still and close your eyes," the other purrs, "I'm sure ya do it all the time for yer old man."

Your eyes round and you whimper, tugging at the forearm beneath your chin. Your eyes fill with tears as adrenaline floods your veins. You don't understand. You just went to get groceries.

You squeak as a prick jabs through your jeans. You spasm, frantically trying to free yourself as an acidic heat seeps into you. No, no, what did he just do. There's a tink against the floor as the man nearly loses hold of your ankles.

"Fuck!" The one by your head grits out.

"Won't take the long," the other assures, "give her a minute."

You shudder as you feel the heaviness spread through you. Your muscles ache and your vision blurs. This can't be happening. It's not happening!

You blink, black spots speckling before you as you go limp between the man. You hang between them, twitching as you fight the rising tide of darkness. Your eyes roll back and your head pulses violently. You succumb to the void, terrified you might never see light again.

➰️

There's a thick sheet between you and the world. Lights are fuzzy, colours are dull, and all you can hear is your own heartbeat. The steady tempo breaks only as your breaths rise and fall shallowly. Your muscles tingle, toes numb, fingers throbbing.

You groan and try to move, your head lolling as you lack the strength to lift it. You cough through your dry throat, lashes fluttering, blinking through the fog. You manage to open them fully, staring at your own lap.

A tight restraint bites into your wrists and each ankle. You slump in the chair, arms drawn behind you. Your chest racks as you suck down air and try to find some semblance of strength.

You wince as something clicks. You shiver as the cool air seeps through your cotton polo, raising bumps on your exposed arms. A door swings open with the soft whisper of hinges and measured footsteps approach.

A hand reaches to lift your chin and your head wobbles as you look up at a masked figure. The scene crashes into you like a wave. If you weren't tied to a chair, it would knock you on your ass.

Through the slits of the dark mask, blue eyes gleam and the man leans in. He has broad shoulders and smells of lavender and sandalwood. He searches your face as you try to do the same to him, finding only the ribbed black fabric over obscured features.

"Shit," he whispers as he lets you go. Your head droops back down and he backs up hurriedly, "oi, morons."

The door slams blocking out his holler and you moan. Everything hurts. The world is like an echo of itself. Distant and bleary.

Silence. It's only you and the dark room, lit by a single lamp that casts shadows over covered furniture. White sheets over lumpy shapes that could be sofas, chairs, and tables. The walls are laid with antiquated wallpaper and dark walnut siding. In another lifetime, this room was cozy and welcoming.

The door opens again, jarring you from your dazed wanderings. You look up, getting your head a little higher than before. Three men in masks near and stop before you.

"Are you sure it's the wrong one, boss?" The man, the tallest of the bunch, on the right asks.

"I'm fucking sure," the center one retorts, "Did you even look at her?"

"Well, she walked in the front door so--"

"So you assumed?" The middle one snarls, "what the fuck am I supposed to do with..." he waves his hands towards you. He huffs and steps closer, bending to look you in the eye, "who the fuck are ya?"

You lift your head a little higher and quiver, reciting your name clumsily.

"And why the fuck are you strolling around the Malforts'?" He sneers.

"I..." you murmur and flick your lashes up, "I'm the maid."

He stands straight and spins, throwing up his hands, "the fucking maid!" He smacks the men as he passes between them and storms out.

The men look over at each other through the slits of their masks.

"So what d'ya think we do with her?" The left one asks.

"Good question..." the other sucks his teeth, "s'pose we let him cool down and ask.”

[talon-dragonbeast]

things you can add to your den to make it more therian-coded:

led lights (i have a string of leds decorated with leaves and they look so pretty)

posters with pictures of your hearthome

glow-in-the-light stars

wall stickers with the shape of trees/plants

sticks, patches of moss, rocks (just be careful! if you take something from nature, remember to do so in moderation)

crystals or other shinies

lots of pillows and blankets to turn your bed into a nest

drawings of your 'type(s)

if you do masks/tails, you can hang those in your door or wall

animal figurines or plushies

a box of snacks suited for your 'type(s)

wall paint with natural colours like green or brown

if you have a windowsill, you could leave seeds on a plate to get visited by your local birds!

pride flags

wall decor with a nature-y vibe

curtains! if youre aquatic, you could get blue curtains that sway with the wind to simulate waves

feel free to add on!

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

Hi! I'm literally obsessed with Zukka and every time I see your art, I die and resurrect about seven times, cause it's SO GOOD!! 😭

I wanted to ask, what are your most 'unconventional' or odd Zukka headcanons? If you have any 😅

If not, maybe just your favorite ones? Or some original ones? 👀

shuhudhideaiun you’re so sweet thank you and of COURSE I do but like. I also would like to list my favourites and originals bc some of them are so so adorable n fun.

Unconventional

-sokka fidgets. like a lot. but the way he does is by biting his nails so zuko bought him beads and necklaces and just jewellery in general so he could play with that instead of destroying his fingers.

-zuko has like no spacial awareness at all (he’s literally blind in one eye) so sokka always has a hand on his back or arm to make sure he doesn’t crash into anything 😭

-zuko has trouble staying on top of his work and is constantly complaining about needing a clearer schedule so sokka just, invents highlighters and comes to zuko one day like: here you go babe now you can colour code your schedule 😊 and zuko’s like: what the fuck

Favourite

-one by my wonderful friend @motheryves: sokka can sing but pretends to sing badly in front of his friends to annoy them

-another one by my friend @kiki-strike: a long post which you can find if you scroll through my ask tag about zuko’s relationship with his scar and how sokka finds a way to be tender and gentle with him (like, touching it) without freaking him out. (seriously this is such a tender sweet head canon and I still think about it to this day.

-not sure where it came from but the hc that sokka and zuko can’t take showers together because one setting is in the pits of hades and the other is the literal icy tundras.

Original, but less odd

-sokka is a sleep wrestler and at first zuko thinks it’s because he’s just. like that. but after sokka starts talking in his sleep about ‘I need to save them.’ ‘I’m strong enough.’ then zuko’s like: oh. oh his failure complex is on even in his sleep. so next time it happens he wordlessly just pulls sokka close and strokes his hair until he’s still. (it takes Sokka a few weeks to figure out why he’s suddenly sleeping so well.)

-the first time sokka says I love you is when they’re lounging in zuko’s chambers and it’s late there’s dim candlelight and zuko is laughing at something stupid sokka said. so sokka tries to say I love you but gets whacked in the face with a bottle (zuko flails) so when he gets to the sick bay and zuko is tending to his bruise saying shit like ‘I’m so dumb I’m so sorry’ sokka just, blurts it out. (a true display of zuko being authentic zuko, not hiding behind a cold unfeeling mask, but always looking out for others and caring for them. that’s the zuko who sokka loves, so he told him then.)

-the first time zuko says I love you is when sokka is painting, and he comes over to bring him tea and sokka gets startled and just, spills his tea all over himself and his painting and he stands up too quickly to get a towel so he slips on the spilled tea on the floor and now he’s ass first on the ground just laughing, wide and unapologetic and that’s when zuko says it. (a true display of sokka being authentic sokka, not trying to prove his worth or be more of a man or be anything other than himself. that’s the sokka that zuko loves, so he told him then.)

[our-happygirl500-fan]

I was looking around online & found some concept art for the Rise movie 

Something that I thought was interesting was that in the concept art for the Donnie Pods; the colours for April, Splinter’s & Casey Junior’s escape pods are different than they were in the movie 

In the concept art Casey Junior’s escape pod is a shade of blue while April & Splinter’s pods are different shades of green however in the movie Casey Junior’s escape pod is green while April’s is yellow & Splinters is white.

In the movie the escape pods are colour coded for each member of the Hamato Clan. The Turtle’s escape pods are the same colours as their masks, April’s escape pod is yellow as she has been associated with yellow before having the code name ‘yellow submarine’ in the first episode & Splinter is possibly associated with white due to gaining a white robe when he fully unlocked his ninpo in the final episode. 

Casey Junior’s escape pod might be green due to green being a more generic colour amongst the Hamato Clan indicating his pod might be a spare that Donnie had.

I was wondering why the concept art for the escape pods had different colours than they do in the movie but something I noticed was that the colours for the escape pods in the concept art look very similar to the colours of the Hamato Clan’s ninpo in the final episode of season 2.

Though the green of Splinter’s escape pod looks a bit darker than his ninpo green is a generic colour for Hamato ninpo & April’s escape pod seems to be the exact same shade as her ninpo.

The blue of Casey Junior’s escape pod in the concept art is also a similar colour as the blue armour & knee pads that Casey Junior wears which might be why Casey Junior’s escape pod is a shade of blue in the concept art but the fact that April’s escape pod in the concept art is the same colour as her ninpo might mean that if Casey Junior was to ever use Hamato Ninpo the colour of his ninpo would be a shade of blue.

[eroticdelusions]

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄ᶠ

pairing: lady tremaine x reader

summary: you spot a particular redhead at the ball where you are supposed to find a suitor. however, that doesn't stop you. it will never stop you.

warnings: fluff

materlist | taglist

word count: 2.2k

The grand hall of the palace was adorned with opulent decorations, and shimmering chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of guests. It was the night of the grand masquerade ball, an event that had been the talk of the kingdom for months. The dress code was strict: black, red, and white. Yet, as you descended the grand staircase, you captured the attention of everyone in the room.

Your gown was a breathtaking deviation from the prescribed colours. The bodice was a delicate corset of dusty blue and white, intricately laced with dusty pink ribbons that crisscrossed your back and tied into a perfect bow. The skirt flowed like a waterfall, layers of tulle and silk cascading in shades of blue that deepened as they reached the floor. The hem was adorned with tiny handcrafted pearls that caught the light with every step you took.

Your sleeves were sheer, billowing slightly at the wrists, and adorned with the same dusty pink lace that decorated your corset. A delicate silver tiara rested atop your head, its design reminiscent of blooming flowers, and your mask, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, matched your gown perfectly, with intricate patterns of blue and pink lace.

As you moved through the crowd, the whispers followed you. Men approached, captivated by your beauty and grace, but you politely declined their advances, your heart not swayed by their charms. It wasn’t just the men who noticed you; everyone in the room was drawn to your presence, your gown one of the many reasons.

Your eyes sparkled behind your mask as you made your way to the centre of the ballroom, ready to embrace the night, not as a princess seeking a suitor but as a woman embracing her own path.

As you stood in the centre of the ballroom, your eyes were drawn to a flash of fiery ginger hair amidst the sea of guests. Intrigued, you began to move closer, weaving through the crowd to get a better look. The shimmering black and red dress she wore caught the light, and her matching mask with silver filigree added an air of enigmatic elegance.

Just as you were about to reach her, the music swelled, signalling the start of the dance. A man stepped forward, extending his hand to you with a polite smile. “May I have this dance?” he asked, his voice courteous and warm.

Reluctantly, you accepted, casting one last glance towards the woman. As you began to dance, your thoughts lingered on her; the connection you felt was still palpable despite the distance.

As you glided across the dance floor, the music’s rhythm guiding your steps, you felt a pair of eyes burning into you. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up towards the balcony. There, standing with a stern expression, was your father. His eyes, usually warm and kind, were now filled with disapproval. The colours of your gown, so different from the mandated black, red, and white, had not gone unnoticed.

Your father’s gaze was unwavering, and as you made eye contact, he raised his hand, subtly gesturing that he was watching you. The message was clear: he was not pleased. You felt a pang of guilt but quickly masked it with a composed smile, nodding discreetly to acknowledge his silent reprimand.

The man you were dancing with noticed your momentary distraction and leaned in slightly. “Is everything alright?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced a reassuring smile. “Yes, everything is fine,” you replied, though your mind was still on your father’s disapproving stare.

As the dance continued, you tried to focus on the music and your partner’s graceful movements, but you couldn’t shake the image of the woman from your mind. Determined to find her again, you subtly guided your dance partner towards the edge of the dance floor, your movements graceful and fluid. Each step brought you closer to where you had last seen her, your eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of her fiery ginger hair.

Your partner, however, seemed blissfully unaware of your intentions. He chatted amiably about the evening, completely oblivious to your focused gaze. “Isn’t the music wonderful tonight?” he remarked, his smile bright and carefree.

You nodded absently, your attention still fixed on the crowd. “Yes, it’s lovely,” you replied, your voice distant.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of her again, her red and black dress standing out amidst the sea of guests. She was now dancing with another man, her movements graceful and captivating. You felt a surge of determination and gently tightened your grip on your partner’s hand, signalling your intent to move closer.

He continued to prattle on, seemingly unaware of your subtle cues. “I heard the desserts are particularly exquisite this evening. Have you tried the chocolate mousse?” he asked, his tone enthusiastic.

You forced a polite smile, your eyes never leaving the woman. “Not yet,” you replied, your voice soft.

With a graceful dip and twirl, you positioned yourself just a few steps away from her. Your partner, still clueless, leaned in slightly. “Is there someone you’re looking for?” he asked, finally noticing your distraction.

You shook your head, your eyes never leaving the woman. “No, not at all,” you replied softly.

He seemed as though he didn't believe you but didn’t press further. The music swelled, and you moved in perfect harmony, your steps light and purposeful. As you neared the woman, she turned, her eyes meeting yours through the intricate patterns of your masks.

The music swelled to a crescendo, and as if on cue, the dance floor erupted into a flurry of movement. The host of the evening, sensing the perfect moment, called for a grand partner switch. The guests caught up in the excitement, began to twirl and change partners in a seamless, elegant dance.

You seized the opportunity, releasing your current partner with a graceful bow and stepping towards the mysterious woman. She, too, was amid changing partners, her eyes meeting yours with a spark of recognition. As the music continued to play, you found yourselves drawn together, your hands meeting in a perfect clasp.

The moment your hands touched, it felt as though the world around you faded away. The crowd, the music, the grand ballroom—all seemed to blur into the background. You were now dancing with her, the woman who had captivated your thoughts all evening. Her fiery ginger hair framed her face, and her eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of amusement, locked onto yours.

You moved in perfect harmony, your steps synchronised as if you had danced together a thousand times before. The music guided your movements, each note bringing you closer together. Her presence was magnetic, and you felt an unspoken connection growing with every step.

The music swirled, guiding your steps in perfect harmony. Her eyes never left yours, and you felt an unspoken connection growing stronger with each passing moment.

Then, with a playful smile, she leaned in closer and whispered, “Hello again, darling.”

You smiled back at her, feeling a warmth spread through you as her words lingered in the air. The music continued to play, and you both moved in sync, your steps light and graceful. The connection between you grew stronger, each moment more intense than the last.

As you twirled around the dance floor, you caught a glimpse of your father watching, now from the edge of the room. His eyes were narrowed, concern etched on his face. He had always been protective, and seeing you dancing with a woman unsettled him.

You knew your father had dreams of you becoming the queen, living a life of elegance and propriety. The idea of you being with another woman, especially one who was older, was something he nor the kingdom would ever accept. But as you looked into her eyes, you felt a sense of certainty and defiance. This was your life, your happiness, and you weren’t going to let anyone dictate it for you.

She seemed to sense your thoughts and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Would you like to go outside for some fresh air?” she whispered.

You smiled and nodded, feeling a rush of excitement. “I would like that, Lady Tremaine,” you replied softly.

She took your hand, her touch gentle yet firm, and led you through the crowd. The music and chatter faded into the background as you made your way to the grand doors leading outside.

However, what you didn’t see was your father. He nudged one of the guards next to him, silently instructing him to follow you. The guard nodded, his expression serious as he began to move discreetly through the crowd, keeping a watchful eye on you both.

As you stepped outside, oblivious to the guard’s presence, the cool night air greeted you as you stepped out into the garden, the stars twinkling above.

She turned to you, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and tenderness. “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” She said her voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air fill your lungs. “Yes, it is,” you agreed, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and exhilaration.

The garden was a serene oasis, a perfect escape from the bustling world inside. It was a place where nature’s beauty was on full display, with a variety of vibrant flowers and lush greenery. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming roses, mingling with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil.

Tall, elegant trees provided a canopy of shade, their leaves rustling softly in the gentle breeze. Pathways of smooth, cobblestone meandered through the garden, inviting you to explore its hidden corners. Along the paths, delicate flowers in every hue imaginable created a stunning tapestry of colour.

In the centre of the garden, a tranquil pond reflected the twinkling stars above. Water lilies floated gracefully on its surface and the soft croaking of frogs added to the symphony of night sounds. Benches were strategically placed, offering perfect spots to sit and take in the beauty around you.

The garden was alive with the sounds of nature—the chirping of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, and the gentle rustle of leaves. It was a place where you would lose yourself and forget that you were a princess.

“Come on, I know a place,” you whispered excitedly, grabbing her arm.

You led her through the winding paths of the garden, the moonlight casting a gentle glow on the flowers and foliage. As you approached a dense thicket, you paused and turned to her with a playful grin.

“Here we are,” you whispered, pointing to a small, almost hidden hole in the bush. “We have to go through there.”

Lady Tremaine raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of scepticism and mild annoyance. “You expect me to crawl through that?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

You nodded enthusiastically. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

With a reluctant sigh, she crouched down and followed you through the narrow opening. The branches brushed against your skin, and the earthy scent of the soil filled your senses. After a few moments of crawling, you emerged into a secluded part of the garden.

It was like stepping into another world. The secret garden was a even better then the one you had just been in, with a small, sparkling pond surrounded by vibrant flowers and lush greenery. Fireflies danced in the air, their tiny lights creating a magical ambience. A stone bench sat beneath an ancient oak tree, its branches forming a natural canopy overhead.

Lady Tremaine stood up, brushing off her dress, and looked around in awe. “This is… incredible,” she admitted, her earlier irritation forgotten.

You smiled, feeling a sense of triumph. “I told you it was worth it.”

You both stood there, the magical ambience of the secret garden wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Lady Tremaine’s eyes sparkled with a newfound softness as she took in the beauty of the hidden oasis. You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Anything for you, darling,” she whispered, her voice filled with a tenderness you had never heard before.

You felt a rush of warmth as she leaned in, her breath mingling with yours. Your noses brushed, and the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the moment when your lips would finally meet.

But just as you were about to kiss, a sudden rustling in the bushes nearby made you both freeze. The presence of someone else was unmistakable. Lady Tremaine’s eyes widened in surprise, and you turned your head slightly, trying to see who or what had interrupted your intimate moment.

''Father?''

taglist:

@italianaidiota

@melissaschemmentisbranzino

@chloeelou02x

Click HERE if you want to be added!

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 40: Biofilm

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Donatello races down the hallway, checking his trackers every few minutes to make sure everything is going smoothly with the others. After this is over, he's thinking of adding hidden cameras to their masks as well, so he can also see where they are, not just know their longitude and latitude. What good is knowing where a person is if you can't know what's going on?

Donnie started getting into the trackers phase when they'd first come up against the Foot Clan, and Raph had accidentally eaten a tracker meant for a salami paper stack. That had been the inspiration to start tagging his family. He'd installed the subdermal trackers sometime after then, working on different updates and methods of inserting them under the skin or under their shells when they weren't looking or conscious or aware or -- well, you get the idea.

But as time went on, he'd started thinking maybe adding a visual or audio aspect to the tracers was a good idea. It was starting to annoy him that his brothers and father would go places alone for long periods of time and he wouldn't know why or what was happening. Donnie would never consider himself 'clingy'. Or at least, he'd never admit that he was. Donnie was just... concerned for their well-being. And it always seemed like their well-being was coming into question whenever he was not with them. He should have added the video/audio feed to the trackers a long time ago.

He'd have known what was taking Leo so long to get them back after they'd been portaled to Tahiti.

He'd have known what Leo and Papa were doing with Big Mama while they dealt with the Shredder.

He'd have known where the Shredder and the Foot Lieutenant and Foot Brute and Cassandra took Splinter and Barry when they attacked their old lair.

He'd have known what the Krang were doing with Raphael when he was captured.

He'd have known what happened to Leo in the Prison Dimension.

He'd have known about Mikey's captivity and recapture.

He'd have known how to be the genius they all needed him to be.

He'd have known how to be a better brother...

Donnie swallows the thoughts and keeps on moving. He turns a corner and sees a strange laboratory, filled with machines and mechanisms and lasers and weird gadgets that Donnie would be more than happy to take home with him... But it also has what looks like a few medical devices stored in there as well. A CT scanner, an X-ray machine, other devices that Donatello recognizes from science-fiction films and spy movies that definitely won't be found in any normal hospital.

This looks like the kind of place that a man specialized in engineering and robotics would be hiding in...

Donnie sneaks over to the room, not caring about dodging cameras. The building's been evacuated, and even if it hadn't been, everybody already knows that they're here.

The door was left open by a careless employee trying to leave in a hurry. Perfect! Donnie's ninpo can create all kinds of stuff, but making small items to hack into things like security systems takes a lot of brainpower. And -- you didn't hear it from him -- it's difficult. His ninpo works like his mind, building the items piece by piece, engineering the weapons or defense mechs however he sees it in his head. And while he is a genius, even geniuses have trouble keeping track of hundreds of thousands of lines of programming. Even a small item like the USB flash drive he gave April earlier would take a lot of internal interfacing and coding... it's exhausting. But not impossible.

But fortunately, it isn't necessary.

Donatello sneaks in cautiously. It's strange how the room is a Frankenstein mashup between a doctor's office and a robotics lab. Secretly, Donnie is taking mental notes on how to incorporate some of these ideas and designs into his own lab.

There are desks covered with tools and blueprints. Cabinets with vials and liters of mysterious multi-coloured liquids. Tables with a few unpacked boxes stuffed with strange items and labels scribbled messily onto the cardboard. On one said table is a crate. Poking out of said crate, Donatello can see a wooden staff with purple wraps, two familiar blue hilts for what he can assume are twin katanas, and the edges of a battleshell.

"Our stuff!" he whispers to himself. They definitely need to get those back...

Donnie rushes to the box and starts rummaging through it. Yep, it's all here... Dee's gear, Leo's swords, Raph's sai. He reaches in and retrieves the weapons, looking them over for anything like tags or trackers that the TCRI or EPF would have placed on them. They look fine...

"My goggles!" Dee cheers, grabbing them quickly and placing them over his eyes to inspect the software. "Oh, thank God they didn't mess with my babies..."

"Don't thank Him just yet!" a voice cries out from behind him.

Donnie yipes before ducking, narrowly avoiding a swing from a madman behind him. He doesn't look like a guard, but instead wears a standard white lab coat. His hair is wild and unkempt, dark eyebags sag on his face, his chin is stubbled with untended scruff. By the looks of it, his only diet is caffeine and the suffering of others. He must be a scientist, then. His voice sounds familiar; Donnie's sure he's seen or heard him before...

"You were on the video files from the previous building!" he realizes, quickly grabbing his bō from the box and readying himself. "You made Mikey fight monsters in the Interaction room..."

"I see someone's been doing some research!" the man chuckles, his eyes wide and firey. "I'm flattered you recognized me. The name's Dr. Rod Timothy, not that you'll have much of a mind to recall that after I finish with you!!"

Donnie dodges as Dr. Timothy grabs a futuristic weapon from the table and fires it at him. Burning red blasts of light fly through the air. Dee ducks quickly, jumping to the side as he tries to come up with a weapon of his own. His mind always goes straight to the extreme -- 'go big or go home,' 'more bang for your buck', etc. Typically, the villains he fights are durable and super-strong mutants, they require bigger weapons like missiles and giant drills or hammers, etc. Humans are small, easy to break, but fierce and determined. They're harder to gauge, and Donnie has to search his mind for a weapon he can use against him without actually causing too much damage. Not just to the human, but also to the building itself. So missiles are off the menu.

Donnie's palm fills with parts and pieces that instantly grow together and attach in method and order, creating a mini grenade. He taps a button and sends the round object flying towards the scientist. It lands just a few feet in front of him and -- BOOM -- the flash grenade goes off, blinding the man as Dee uses his goggles to guide him through the room and find a place to hide.

"AGH!" Timothy screams, covering his watering eyes as he staggers around. "Y-you... you see, this is exactly why I was hoping you'd come here..."

Donnie peeks out from behind a giant scanner, watching as the mad scientist stumbles around chuckling.

"You creatures always have such a strange tolerance... it's superhuman...!"

The man looks up and looks around, pupils dilating like crazy as he frantically flails his arms and hands, feeling for something.

"And soon, I will be too..."

He really is insane, Donnie thinks to himself.

"If you're so keen on mutants, why'd you experiment on my brother?!" Donnie snarls.

Dr. Timothy reels around and stares blindly in Dee's direction, trying to listen as Donnie ninjas away to a new location to watch Timothy... and lure him into a trap.

"Oh, yes," Timothy laughs, the tears from his watering eyes streaming down his face. "You're brother was loads of fun. I enjoyed our little exercises and examinations thoroughly... Such a fun little plaything, a wonderful puzzle to take apart and put back together."

"Anyone ever tell you to get psychiatric help?" Donnie growls.

"More often than you'd think," Timothy cackles. "But they don't see the necessity of my methods! The vision! They're all sniveling, spineless, mindless plebeians who cannot understand the future..."

"What future is that?" Donnie asks, purposefully directing the man towards the far back of the room.

"Oh, one that you'd approve of!" Timothy laughs, blinking quickly, eyes darting back and forth. "A future free of humans. A future of mutants."

"What are you talking about?" Donnie asks, genuinely confused. "Chaplin wants to eradicate the mutants, why --"

"Oh, he's nothing more than a COWARD!!" Timothy bellows, fist pounding on the side of the table and sending small items flying. "He's a pathetic hatemonger who can't see that the only way for humanity to advance is to literally advance as a species and evolve! He thinks that what we need is to take out the competition!"

Dr. Timothy smiles so wide, his face contorts as though it's made of flabby plastic.

"I say we need to switch flags."

Donnie purposely knocks over small rolling cart of supplies, causing Dr. Timothy to stagger towards the sound.

"Chaplin is a visionary, though. And a golden goose. I never would have been able to pursue my research without his funding..."

"Well, the golden goose won't be laying anymore eggs for you psychopaths," Donnie huffs. "Chaplin's dead."

Timothy grunts at the news. Donnie can't tell if he's laughing, or making strange sad noises. The deranged fiend turns to stare blankly at the table, almost wistfully, reminiscing his fellow evil scientist.

"Well... he was a very significant man. Powerful, resourceful, determined... but I can't say that I'm not a little glad that he's gone."

"Oh?" Donnie chuckles. "No love lost between coworkers?"

"I had respect for the man, it's true," Timothy grumbles, reaching across the table strewn with supplies as he feels his way around. His fingers curl over a few of the objects laid before him as he moves forwards. "But his values and ideals were misguided and foolish. Only the strong come out on top."

"I'd like to think the smart ones have a pretty good chance, too..." Donnie remarks, stepping into a side room and waiting for Dr. Timothy to tag along.

"Oh, I agree!" he laughs, following Donnie's voice into the dark room. "Which is why I hate to see you die."

Timothy grips one of the items pulled from the table and clicks a button. A long laser-weapon activates, and he laughs as he runs in after the softshell.

"Nice sword-axe-laser-combo," Donnie smirks. "Where'd you get it? Hollywood Studios in Florida?"

"Do you like it?" Dr. Timothy grins sarcastically. "It's just one of the few things I thought to bring with me for this climactic stand-off..."

He presses a button and the door behind him slams shut with a mechanical hiss. Dr. Rod Timothy brandishes the weapon casually at the mutant teen who cooly holds his bō staff out at the man as well, ready for a duel.

"Does this room look familiar?" Timothy cackles. "If you really did the research, then it should. It's the same as the one your sweet little science experiment of a sibling was made to fight in! Only right we made another one for the experiments to follow... And I can't wait to see what happens to you in it."

Donatello smiles.

"You want me to fight you? The same way you made my baby brother fight your mutant monsters?"

"Oh, you can fight one of my monsters too if you want!" Timothy shrieks with laughter, holding up a small remote control. "With a push of a button, they can come pouring in. But for now, I want to see what you can do. See what parts of you to keep and what to... scrap."

Donnie sneers.

"So this is an assessment, then."

"I suppose so," Dr. Timothy shrugs. "But we'll see who wins."

Timothy charges, laser weapon at the ready. Donatello grips his bō staff and swings it, blocking Timothy's attack. A purple shield forms and pushes him back. Timothy grunts with effort as his feet skid across the tiles. He laughs hysterically, eyes growing ever wider.

He charges again, swinging the battleaxe around before striking again. Donnie's battleshell opens up and reveals a small jetpack, which takes him up into the air. He launches over Timothy and lands behind him, clicking a hidden button on the shoulder pad and activating a wire that wraps around the mad scientist. Dee launches again and prepares to strap the man from the ceiling and literally leave him hanging.

Dr. Timothy squirms about and manages to pull an arm out, fumbling with the laser device and cutting the line. As Timothy freefalls, Donnie's jetpack crashes him into the ceiling as it attempts and fails to compensate for the sudden loss of weight. Timothy pulls another device he'd taken from the table and points it at Donnie. A small gun, almost like a pistol, which fires out a sudden blue blast at Dee's jetpack. The rotors freeze, ice covers the exhaust ports, and the whole jetpack itself malfunctions and sends Dee crashing to the ground.

"Your brother showed a severe aversion to cold, so in order to keep him in line we created a series of ice-generating weapons like this handy little prototype," Timothy boasts, twirling the pistol around like it's a toy.

Donnie growls in fury. Timothy fires a few more shots, blasting the turtle in the arm and leg as he tries to get back up from the fall. Donnie yells in pain as his limbs suffer from ice burn and start to turn red and swollen from the cold blasts. Shards of frost and ice crystals form on the skin. Donnie gasps from the pain and starts rubbing his limbs, careful not to let the injuries turn into frostbite. Timothy fires another shot, but this time Donnie is careful to dodge it, jumping out of the way despite the pain. Timothy fires again. Dee swings his bō at the man, creating shield that blocks the blast. He swings again, dissolving the shield and reforming it to create a replica pistol that fires directly at the weapon, clogging the barrel of Timothy's gun with ice.

"That was good!" Timothy laughs, dropping the gun before his fingers freeze to the metal. "Nice deflection! And it's clear that I could not defeat you physically. Your mutant genetics must have enhanced your bone structure and muscle mass, yes?"

"That's one theory," Donnie snarks at him. "Or you could just be a weak old guy with a pathetic toy gun."

Dr. Timothy laughs again.

"I'm technically not old, I'm 36."

"That's old, dude."

"Kids these days..." Dr. Timothy sighs. "If brawn cannot win, then perhaps brains shall..."

Dr. Timothy starts clicking buttons on the remote, setting off a few movement-tracking firearms. Donnie recognizes the sleek black metal machine guns from some of Mikey's recorded sessions in the Interaction Room. Dee creates another shield and avoids the torrent of bullets and darts that fly as Dr. Timothy advances again.

"Let's see how you fare against two threats at once!"

Donnie ducks back, hand and staff flying forward as he thinks up a quick weapon to make for his defense. A purple ninpo hologram forms over the wood, creating an imitation of his old tech-bo. A giant mechanical fist ignites at one end, and Dr. Timothy and Donatello exchange blow for blow, guarding and attacking as the two simultaneously dodge bullets from above.

"Where do you come up with these weapon ideas? Jupiter Jim's 19th Return to the Moon?"

"Two distractions at once, and he still finds the mental capacity for a rib!" Timothy laughs. "I should spar with my creations more often..."

"I am not your creation!" Donnie yells. "AND NEITHER IS MY BROTHER!!!"

Donnie suddenly snaps, kicking Dr. Timothy in the chest and sending him back into the wall. Timothy's weapon knocked from his hand, Donnie grabs it and flings the laser cutter towards the turrets, tearing them in half and destroying them completely.

"Very well done!" Timothy chuckles nervously, as he half-struggles to get up. "Well done indeed! You are quite the adversary. But, I would wonder how well you'd fare after I become one of YOU!"

Donnie watches in confusion as the scientist pulls a syringe from his pocket. It's glowing green.

"This is a mutation formula that I've reverse-engineered from some samples I found over the years. Your brother is one of them, true... but the majority of the formula comes from a few mosquitos we found buzzing around..."

"Draxum's ooze," Donnie gapes, his voice a horrified hush. "You're going to mutate yourself?!"

"It's about time I evolved into the higher species!" Timothy cackles madly, his mind fully gone. "And now with Chaplin out of the way, there's no stopping me!!"

"Wait!" Donnie tries to warn. "You don't know what that will do to you!!"

"I know exactly what will happen!" Timothy screams back. "I will finally be the apex predator!! Now watch as I become a random creature of mass destruction!!"

Timothy stabs the syringe into his arm, the re-created ooze seeping into his veins.

"Random?" Donnie questions. "No, you'll just turn into the last biological organism you came into contact with."

"Wait, what?" Timothy questions, sobering for one second. "What do you mean, the last thing biological organism?"

"The ooze combines your DNA with that of whatever you touched last. Didn't you know that?"

"No! How would I know that?!" Timothy screeches, gripping his sides in pain as the ooze starts to recreate him.

"Looks like somebody didn't do their homework after all..."

"What am I going to become?!" Timothy shrieks, his whole frame shaking.

"Well, what did you touch last?"

"YOU!"

"No, you never actually touched me," Donnie clarifies. "You're wearing gloves, and your weapons hit mine, but we never came into actual contact -- details matter in science, you know..."

"W-WHAT'S HAPPENING TO M-M-MEEEEEE?!?!" Timothy screams, his voice fluctuating and gargling as he begins to sweat profusely.

It's not sweat.

His skin is melting.

Donnie watches with a sickened expression as Dr. Timothy's body begins to turn into a sludge, the skin tone changing into a slimy fungus-green, every part of him slowly dissolving and gooping together in a way that turns Donnie's stomach. He looks away, and forces himself to keep away even as the man screams and pleads for mercy and help. His voice is literally drowned out as his vocal chords liquify along with the rest of him.

It goes quiet. Donnie shakily turns to see what has become of the poor deranged man. Nothing remains but a puddle of gelatinous ooze wobbling on the floor several feet ahead of him.

"L-looks like your reverse-engineered formula wasn't complete," Donnie gulps. "Or maybe the ooze really did transform you into the last thing you touched... which would have been the ooze itself. Whatever the solution, I'm not going to stick around for --"

A gurgling scream tears the room apart, as the gelatinous blob starts moving, shifting, and reforming into a sloppy mess of a man.

"Lₒₒₖ wₕₐₜ yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ dₒₙₑ ₜₒ ₘe!" Timothy shrieks, his voice a wobbly, watery mess as he slowly pulls himself together. "I wₐₛ mₑₐₙt ₜₒ ᵇe ₐ fᵢₑᵣcₑ ₘᵤₜaₙt! Nₒₜ ₐ ᵇₗᵤbᵇeᵣᵢₙg … ₜhᵢₙg!!"

The newly transformed Timothy charges at Donnie, his arm elongating and stretching like those slappy hand things Mikey was obsessed with at the age of six. Donnie dodges it at the last second, the hand slinging across the room and sticking to a panel on the wall. It rips the panel straight off, revealing a section of machinery hidden behind it.

"Whoah!" Donnie yells, dodging once again as the arm comes slinging back.

"I dᵢdₙ'ₜ wₐₙₜ ₜhiₛ!" Timothy screeches as he continues his tantrum. "I wₐₛ sᵤpₚₒₛₑd ₜₒ bₑ ₜₕₑ ₐₚeₓ ₚᵣₑdₐₜₒᵣ, ₙoₜ ₛₒₘe ₚₐₜₕₑₜᵢc ₛₗᵤdgₑ fᵣₒₘ ₜₕₑ ᵇoᵗₜₒₘ ₒf ᵗₕₑ fₒₒd cₕaᵢₙ! ᴺᵒᵗ a gˡoʳⁱᶠᵢₑᵈ aₘebₐ! ₙₒₜ ₐ Lᵢvᵢₙg Wₐₗₖᵢₙg MUD PUDDLE!!"

Timothy's body morphs again, his form splattering in twenty different directions and splashing onto several frames and tiles from the walls, ceiling, and floor. He pulls them apart, releasing a robotic arm that reaches down and attempts to attack the two of them. Donnie slides to the side and avoids the robo-arm. Dr. Timothy's tentacle releases from a section of the wall and accidentally tangles around the mechanism, getting stuck inside the gears and causing it to malfunction. The arm swings back and forth, trying to catch Donnie or Dr. Timothy before becoming hopelessly trapped in the glue-like goo that the scientist has become.

"Wₕₐₜ ₕₐᵥₑ yₒᵤ ᵈᵒₙₑ! ᵂₕₐₜ ₕᵃᵛe yoᵤ dₒₙe! Wₕₐₜ ₕₐᵥₑ yᵒu ᵈoₙₑ!" Timothy wails as he flails about the room.

His arms knock loose the devices hanging from the ceiling. They come crashing down, splatting Timothy flat and trapping him momentarily.

"Sorry doc, but this was all you," Donnie states, dodging one of the slimy appendages before tuck and rolling towards the door. "And no offense, but I've had enough slimy tentacle-induced sensory issues for one year, so I'll just see myself out..."

"Yᵒᵤ ₕₐᵥₑ ₜo ₕeˡᵖ ₘₑ!" Timothy screams, reaching out for the ninja in desperation.

"There's nothing I can do for you now, Tim," Donnie scoffs as he picks up the remote from the floor, avoiding Timothy's sludge and slime. "You wanted to be a mutant, so now you're a mutant. Congrats, welcome to the family."

Donnie stares down at the remote and all the little buttons it comes equipped with. He presses one, and the door opens.

"But don't worry. After everything you did to my brother, I won't just leave you here alone to rot..."

Donnie turns to face the mutant man, and gives him a cold smile before pressing every button on the remote.

"You said something about 'monsters flooding in at the push of a button,' right?" Donnie asks, his smile becoming almost like a snarl. "How about I leave you with some company?"

Every trapdoor in the room opens up, and hundreds of glowing red eyes appear from the darkness. The sounds of snarling and growling and howling and yowling starts to fill the enclosure.

"ᴺᵒ… ʸᵒᵘ caₙ'ₜ ₗₑₐᵥₑ ₘe ₗiₖₑ ₜₕiˢ!" Dr. Timothy begs.

"You said you wanted to be a mutant," Donnie sighs, clicking the button to close the door. "You can chill with your own kind now. See how long you last."

"Nᴺᴼ0oₒo0Oᴼ--!!!"

The doors close just as the monsters creep in and pounce for the slime man.

Donnie blinks for a moment before exhaling loudly.

"...Karma... is absolutely insane."

Prev || Next

[aroacedm]

here’s 12 pictures of my art! context after each and my references at the end

tgcf spoilers!

12th

redrawing of the official art from tgcf volume 4! shi qingxuan is my favourite character and he xuan is a close second

this took me a while until i liked it but i wanted to recreate how the original created the ominous feeling and had so much detail and contrast while being in greyscale

11th

from the tgcf manhua, fengqing! i think their my favourite ship, and i hadn’t drawn them before so i tried to give it a go. not a big fan of the proportions but i think it turned out ok.

10th

@oceantherat (this is their favourite character from rain code) showed me the reference picture and i decided to try drawing it as perspective practice. it ended up a little bigger than i though so i couldn’t fit the whole reference, and the mask doesn’t feel rounded, but overall i like it

9th

same guy again! i wanted to try drawing him again but i think the shadows got a bit messed up. my cheap pens smudged a bit but overall i like it

8th

also from the tgcf manhua, this was from a meme that’s become an bit with me and ocean, just felt like drawing something and saw this in my photos

7th

after a dnd session with ocean and some other friends, i drew a scene from ocean’s character’s (also called ocean because that’s not their irl name) flashback! this guy killed her family! he’s one of her relatives! but i really wanted to focus on how dark the scene was, with almost everything being pitch black. i wanted to recreate the scene that left my players going D:

6th

here’s a younger ocean and her cousin that’s more like a brother! i hope nothing bad happens to him… i wanted to draw a picture that helped me as a reference for the backstory, to help build the character relationships and motivations

5th

it’s another character from that dnd campaign when they were younger with their brother figure! except this one is an NPC helping them out! i wanted to try and make the effect of torn paper but didn’t want to risk anything, so i left a bit of uncoloured paper to imitate a layer of partially torn paper. this was also to help when i was writing backstories

4th

this is the npc from the last picture in present time, i wanted to make canon designs for all the characters to help me visualise everything. i hid a few lore elements in this but because ocean is going to see this i can’t explain

3rd

i tried to redraw a picture of me and a friend on a ride together but in a more simple style (no eyes and mouth, ect) i haven’t shown the friend yet but i will soon. i’m the person looking at the camera. i really loved the photo and wanted to try drawing it

2nd

i drew this a while ago, but i still really like it. i used my own hand as reference (for some reason i used the hand i was drawing with) i’ve always been fairly good at drawing hands and when i sent this on an art group chat i’m in, i was quickly accused of being a witch. i can only draw to a level i like when i have a reference, and i always have my hands so it’s the thing i’ve drawn the most. i didn’t have the colour for my hands, but i think it turned out good

and finally,

i’m really proud of this one, i was sick and really bored when i drew it. this is from tgcf vol 6, but i’ve always been really impressed by the tgcf official art and how they look hand drawn but also digital. (you can see brush strokes but they look too perfect). i didn’t have all the different shades of grey, but i think i did well.

thanks for looking at all my art, here are the references i used and where they’re from

i don’t have the reference for number 9 but i’ll reblog with it when i find it

also i plan on showing more of my art but i need to find the original authors of the references

[lesbian-disaster-academic]

Since there's been some discussion of this on a prior post I made, let's address

Neurodivergent Skill-Regression: What is it & Why Does it Happen?

Content Warning! This post will make brief mention of various topics, including: childhood abuse (not explicit), depression, suicidal ideation, car accidents, the COVID-19 pandemic, and throwing up.

Okay, let's begin with a quick preface. I'm writing from the Global North, in a capitalist economy, and in a country founded on (ongoing!) systems of colonialism. Therefore, that's how I'll be situating this discussion (just because it's what I know best). Neurodivergence and Capitalist Exploitation Under capitalism, productivity and extraction in the name of profit become of the utmost importance. Extraction can take place in the form of extracting physical resources (think fracking on Turtle Island), extracting labour, etc. Ultimately, neurodivergence itself is not an ill-formed or "bad" mind. It is only conceptualized and coded as such because capitalism and various other interlocking systems of oppression are actively hostile to minds that, in some way, subvert capitalist and colonial ideals. (however, this is not to negate, invalidate, or trivialize the fact that adhd/asd/ocd/bpd/etc. are disabilities. by their very nature, they impede and disrupt functioning. what is considered "functional", however, is determined by this capitalist/colonialist state and the things it values. this is all simply to say that we would be able to more easily exist and thrive within a society that doesn't reward self-destruction in the name of accumulating capital for the upper class) Of course, living in a system that is not built for you is going to be exhausting—it takes a toll on you, both physically and mentally. This can be further compounded if you are marginalized in other ways; for instance, if you're a person of colour, working class, a woman, 2SLGBTQ+, an immigrant, or a combination of these.

Masking and Burnout Many neurodivergent folx are forced into positions in which they have to mask. For the sake of clarity, "masking", in this case, involves concealing one's neurodivergent traits. For me, that might look like suppressing compulsions, consciously regulating my facial expressions, working longer and harder to accomplish tasks because I can't focus, or scripting conversations before I have them. These manifestations are often invisible to outsiders, but they take a heavy toll on us, and can often result in neurodivergent burnout. This is where the skill-regression comes in. An Example... Let me give you a personal example of what neurodivergent skill-regression can look like! Prior to the pandemic, I was a highly productive person. I was designated "gifted" (whatever that means) and was top of my class in every single class. I was participating in (and running) multiple clubs, working a steady job, volunteering within the community, and learning new instruments and languages. I was a skilled pianist and painter, and also very athletic. From the outside looking in, I appeared successful: I had a massive scholarship lined up at the most prestigious university in the country. I was generally well-liked. I was creative and skilled in both the humanities and STEM (mostly humanities lol), etcetera etcetera. But I was in no way okay. I was incredibly depressed and suicidal. I had multiple undiagnosed anxiety disorders and neurodivergencies. I was experiencing relentless abuse at home. I was throwing up every few days out of pure fear and stress. I was constantly sick, crying (in secret, and then later too numb to cry), overwhelmed, exhausted, and apathetic. And yet I refused to stop pushing my body and mind to their limit because I had this ingrained belief surrounding my productivity—if I slowed down, would I be worth anything? At the time, to my mind, the answer was a staunch no (even though I didn't apply this thinking to anyone but myself lol). So I repressed everything. I pushed it all to the side and kept moving forward. To put it in perspective, I got hit by a truck at one point, but I was so scared of being late to a thing and disappointing my parents that I just apologized and kept going. This kind of behaviour went on for close to a decade. And then the pandemic hit. And I was forced to stop. I was made to (by virtue of my relative privilege) take a moment to sit down, look around, and actually feel things. And it hit me like a ton of bricks: All the weight of the anger and fear and everything that I had been repressing for the sake of survival came RUSHING in. Now? You want to know what I'm like now? I am very burnt out and incredibly unproductive. I have the attention span of a gnat. Where I used to be able push through exhaustion or else tamp it down with consistently high levels of adrenaline, I now almost ALWAYS feel tired, to the point where I have to lay down. I used to be able to toss together an essay in the span of a couple hours. And, yes, while I can still put an essay together quickly, it’s not going to necessarily be good. Likewise, where I used to be able to mask my neurodivergent traits, I'm now hyperaware of how exhausting it all is, which makes it more difficult to appear neurotypical in public.

The thing is, when you have something like adhd as well as an anxiety disorder, the anxiety can pretty effectively mask the adhd. But once I started medication and more intense therapy, I got a hold on my anxiety and alllll of my coping mechanisms fell away. I no longer had that constant, vibrating fear to force me to maintain attention, and push myself to the breaking point.

It’s like not aging for 80 years and then suddenly having decades collapse into you in the span of moments. So Where Does This Leave Us? Okay, that was a loooong tangent, sorry. Returning to the original point. As the infinitely cool and talented @revenantscholar mentioned in a previous post of mine, when you exist in an unsafe environment (or one which is generally not built with you in mind), it's difficult to hold onto the skills you once had. Your body goes into survival mode and prioritizes keeping you alive. Once you have returned to a space where you can unmask and be physically/emotionally/mentally SAFE, you have the capacity to relearn some of those skills. Not all of them, necessarily, and not all at once. But these things do return—and even if they don't (listen to me, this is important), that doesn't make you stupid/bad/worthless. You are living in a world that is not built for people like you and I, and it sucks, and it's painful and scary, and we will continue to fight for a better future. In the meantime, it's important to remember that you are worthy of care, compassion, empathy, and support regardless of what you can contribute/do. You are incredibly important and I'm so glad you're here. (Thank you for listening. I'm drawing on my human rights knowledge from my degree, and also my own personal experience. However, feel free to correct me or ask any questions you might have! I'm also happy to provide resources/citations if needed. Now go drink water and rest if you need to! Ily!)

[bl4z33467]

(Cracks knuckles) Alright folks I remember how to draw

Fat fuck Vulpes by yours truly, Blaze Lander. Inspired by the lovely drawing by @yourmateyoya ,egged on by @legions-top-dog , and because i force you to deal with all my shitty drawings, @noomycatz

Yes, once again, i have put too much effort into a shitpost. Roughly 2 hours as I reused a canvas on ibis paint for a 5th drawing lmao

Yall can burn me at the stake later lol

Process below hehe i like to ramble

And just because i like to talk about my drawing process for characters with complex outfits, this is how my lobotomy brain does it:

First i do silly fun colored sketch. I use different colors to differentiate the "skeleton" from the, euh, fleshy bits, and the clothing. You can see lots of lines that would not be shown in the final product so it makes it confusing to look at.

Next i do a clean sketch.

This is where i clean up everything before doing the final lines. I use one color and a thin brush to make it easier to line over. Here i add any extra bits (like the top football armour) and "render the physics" as i call it, so properly drape cloth and the uhhh squish of stupid fat fuck vulpes' boobs and stomach. I also will balance the drawing here by flipping it and redrawing or using the drag tool.

Next is lining.

For this drawing, i used a 9.0 digital pen with a taper. Its my standard :þ. I kept my pen at the same size for this piece. Sometimes i line the outside darker to make the drawing stand out more. I decided not to as i wanted to give the drawing a more "serious" tone. (How serious can this be though lol-)You may notice on the arms little bits of the lines are missing, thats because i gave him some arm hair. I like make little details like that show over the lines. But since the one shading technique i used works with clipping masks, i had to but the arm hairs on a layer lower than the line art. Next is colour:

I colour in the drawing with midtones. Simple as. I tried to stick with warm colours besides his eyes, which are grey blue. Idc if they arent, im too lazy to google it. I mostly use flat colors but i did make his shirt a gradient. Next is do simple cell shading:

Depending on how i feel i shade with or without the colours in the back. I went with a sorta "non decrepit" light source here. Didnt want too much intensity. I used a deep marronish orange on a multiply layer on 45% opacity. Soft shading/lighting next:

I get intense with the soft shading. I use the airbrush with a deep maroon to add dark gradient and airbrush with a light pink to add a bit more depth. I usually use less light and more dark because im evil i like the intensity. I keep the layer the same amount of opacity and multiply it with the darks and soft light for the lights. Next are the shine highlights:

I use the dip pen hard with a taper to add light highlights of white on shiny bits like metal and eyes. I uses pure white, set the layer to 25% opacity, and use normal blending.

I also shade the lines because it makes the lines softer. I use a clipping layer on the line art, set the whole thing to a dark grey, and airbrush in darker and lighter parts. (I felt like a picture wasnt needed cuz its hard to notice.

For the background, i used a dark red i stole from the cell shaded layer, drew a vine pattern with the kaleidoscope ruler, and added a vignette. Vignettes are my cheat code for background hehe~ it makes the subject stand out while keeping suave, seriousness and formality. To make a subject pop out more, put the vignette behind the character but in front of the background. For more intensity but it on top of both.

Also- I usually draw with a level 10 stabilizer (i got shaky hands) but i drew with a 2 stabilizer so im surprised it came out so smoothly-

Also i gave him goggle tan lines because if i have to have them from playing tennis with sunnies, so does he.