#blind

[onlytiktoks]

[grub-muncher]

A service dog may perform a variety of tasks and fall into multiple categories, these dogs would be called multi-purpose service dogs. This is not an extensive list of tasks and only mention a few ways service dogs can aid their handlers.

[shpepyao]

First 4 funguary entries united with one color scheme Lions mane, brain mushroom, split gill and coral fungi

[blindbeta]

Begging people to stop blindfolding their blind characters challenge

[6ives]

ryomen sukuna has spent years describing the world in an almost poetic detail for you . and though he sees the world as cruel and ordinary, he transforms it into something wondrous for your sake , never realizing that , in teaching you how to see the world , you were teaching him how to see it too . soft ryomen sukuna x blind male reader

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 hated spring.

people would point to blooming branches and laugh too loudly, speak of warmth and renewal and all the sentimental nonsense that made his teeth grind together. spring was pollen and mud for him. it was children tracking dirt into hallways and old women sighing over flowers that would die within two weeks.

that was the truth of it.

"is it spring already, kuna?" the question came softly from the window seat, ryomen turned. you sat where you always sat whenever the weather changed-- curled against the broad windowsill, knees tucked beneath the oversized shirt. the afternoon light poured over your face in golden ribbons, though you couldn't see them.

you smiled toward the warmth, "c'mon, tell me what it looks like." you said, excited, he clicked his tongue, "it jus' looks like a season." your smile widened, "you're cheating."

"i don't cheat."

"you always cheat."

he stared at you for a long moment. they were twenty-four now. twenty-four, and somehow he'd spent almost two decades doing this. he remembered the first time. he'd been seven years old and furious.

furious because his parents had forced him to attend some neighborhood festival, furious because the food was terrible, furious because other children were loud and stupid and insisted on trying to play with him, god he could go on and onnn.

but furious, most of all, because a little boy had walked directly into him, dropped his candied apple, and apologized to the empty air beside his shoulder.

he'd glared, the summer heat already tolling up to him "are you an idiot?" you had blinked, then smiled, "oh. you're over there." as though you'd merely misplaced him.

"you blind?" he tilted his head, annoyed, "my grandma says i shouldn't answer questions asked so rudely." he'd nearly exploded. you had been six, dressed in some bright colored shirt and talkin ab some bs

you held out the sticky remains of your candied apple, "i'll share." his lips pulled into a nasty snark, "i don't want your disgusting apple."

"oh." you nodded, but smiled again, "that's fine, but could you tell me what the fireworks look like, then?" he remembered staring, the fireworks had begun overhead. people around them oohed and aahed and pretended colored explosions were somehow a profound experience.

he'd intended to walk away. instead, he'd looked up at the red sparks bloomed against the black sky. "they're red." you waited, "and?" he frowned, "i don't know, they're exploding."

you laughed and he remembered looking up again. the red had already disappeared. blue lights unfurled behind it, trailing silver. and for some reason, for some reason he'd heard himself say, "it looks like somebody tore a hole through the sky."

you'd gone still. "a hole?" he hummed, "yeah." he hated that he continued. "the edges are burning blue... and silver pieces keep falling out." you had smiled. "oh," you'd whispered.

and that had been the beginning.

"well?" your voice pulled him back. the apartment hummed quietly around them. outside, the city stretched beneath a pale afternoon sky. he sighed. "you really want to know?"

"always." he crossed the room. you turned your face toward the sound of his footsteps. there were people who thought blindness made someone fragile. idiots.

you had survived a world built for eyes you'd never possessed. you had learned streets by memory, voices by heartbeat, weather by scent. when a sense of yours was reduced, the others overpowered.

but there remained one thing you asked of him. describe it. describe all of it. he leaned against the window. "the trees are blooming, [name]." you waited. he hated that pause, because that meant that it was never enough.

"the petals..." he exhaled sharply. "the petals look like somebody stole pieces of the clouds and put them up together-- soft" your expression softened. "the wind keeps picking them up but they don't really fall."

he watched as a gust scattered blossoms across the street below, "they drift." you hummed, "like snow?" he paused, looking at you, "no." he frowned, "no. snow falls because it's dead." the words escaped before he could stop them.

"the petals..." his voice lowered. "the petals look alive, like they're choosing where to go." outside, thousands of pale blossoms turned through the air. "sometimes they move in circles." his throat tightened unexpectedly.

"and sometimes they pass right by each other." he swallowed. "and sometimes..." he laughed bitterly. "sometimes they spend the whole journey together."

silence overtook the room, "that's beautiful." he looked away, and scoffed, "it's flowers." you shook your head, and turned toward the window, "it's you, kuna"

he hated when you did that, hated when you said things that made his chest feel split open. so he changed the subject. "the sky's ugly though" you grinned, chuckling, "describe it." he closed his eyes. "it's..." he paused.

the sky was blue, just blue. but it was a stupid answer, a worthless one. he opened his eyes again. "the color fades the higher you look." you nodded. "how?"

"as if..." he frowned. "as if the world forgot how to keep painting." a breath of laughter left him, he continued despite himself. "and there are clouds."

"shape?"

"nothing."

"liar."

he glared, "you can't see me doing this shi, but just know that i am glaring at you." a small chuckle left you, "i can hear it, don't worry." he looked again. "one looks like a mountain, [name]."

"one looks like an old man sleeping." you smiled. "last one?" the last cloud stretched long and thin, drifting lazily through endless blue. his chest hurt.

"no there's more.. it looks like.." he stopped. "like what?" he remembered being twelve years old again. he remembered describing autumn leaves because you had cried after another child told you you'd never know what red looked like.

he remembered being fifteen and describing the ocean for four straight hours because you wanted to understand why people fell in love with it.

he remembered being seventeen and describing sunsets until his voice disappeared because you had confessed you were afraid everyone else was seeing a more beautiful world than you ever would.

he remembered promising you.

i'll tell you everything, everything. so you won't miss a single thing.

he looked at the cloud, "it looks like something trying very hard not to disappear." the room became silent. outside, life continued. and when he turned, you were crying.

he froze. "what-- what's wrong?" you laughed through the tears. "nothing." he furrowed his brows, confused "then why are you crying?"

"because..." you wiped your face. "cause it sounds beautiful." he stared, he had spent seventeen years trying to give you a world you could never see.

he had described thunderstorms as orchestras and cities as constellations buried in concrete. he went as far as describing winter mornings that looked like sleeping gods and summer nights that felt endless.

and all this time, he had never considered that perhaps you weren;t borrowing his eyes. perhaps you had been teaching him how to use them. you reached out and he took your hand automatically.

"tell me one more thing." he should have refused. "what is it?" you smiled that same smile you;d worn at six years old. "what do i look like?"

the question struck him harder than any wound he'd ever received. because you'd asked him this every year since they met. every. single. year. as if you believed people changed the way seasons did.

he looked at you. at the afternoon sun tangled in your hair, at the smile you'd somehow carried through a world that had given you every reason to lose it. at the face he had memorized so thoroughly that he feared he'd still see it after death.

and for the first time in twenty-four years, he discovered there were not enough words in the language. his voice, when it came, was rough, "you look like..." he stopped and tried again.

"you look like spring."

ryomen sukuna loves spring.

[chososonlyone]

'He's So Cute, Though!'

˚ ༘ ❀SYNOPSIS: you take in a pet stray

˚ ༘ ❀CW: blind!reader, fem!reader intended, husband!sukuna, heian era, true form sukuna, fluff

❀

Sukuna’s relationship with animals was. . .interesting to say the least. He rarely kept animals around the shrine, the only time they were permitted on the sacred grounds–alive–was when he felt too tired to kill them himself and ordered the kitchen staff to complete the violent task. 

But, on the rare occasion he would have the energy to behead whatever poor creature managed to mindlessly wander across his path, he would never have you around. After years of marriage, your sense of smell was one that heightened especially. The metallic tang of blood was one that your nostrils frequently welcomed. He knew your love of animals ran deep; and that knowing he would slaughter them without a care would open up a discussion he knew would be an exhausting one for both of you. 

So, when you came back to bed that night with a suspicious lump in your robe, he knew that it was going to be a long night. And you being oblivious(a major con of your clouded irises), had no clue that the feline-shaped shadow in your silk robe was anything but inconspicuous. Your arms cradled against the “inconspicuous” shadow only helped to confirm Sukuna’s suspicions.

You had found it wandering in the garden. How it got there, hell, any guess was as good as yours. Perhaps it chewed its way through the gates up front? Nevertheless, you followed the sound of its mewling and swiftly picked it up, shushing it before anyone could hear its sad cries.

The rest of the day, you cared for the scrawny little thing. Your first line of action was to feed it. Gods know how long it’s gone without eating. You waited until most of the kitchen staff left before sneaking in to get milk. You felt lumps of sand and dirt along its coat, which urged you to give it a bath in the fountain. After it fell asleep in your lap, you inspected it all over for fleas, ticks, or any other nuisances that might be on its frail body. That was where you found out the ‘it’ was a ‘he’.

You knew Sukuna would disapprove of the mangy stray (after all, this is the same man who deemed all animals’ only purpose was for human’s sustenance). That didn’t deter you from lugging it around all day, even skipping your daily tea with Uraume; which probably wasn’t the best decision considering your 5-pound secret. 

All four eyes instantly narrowed in on the moving shadow. “No,” he grunted, not even waiting for a plea on your end. You tried to feign innocence, but the sudden soft meow escaping into the silent room shut you up. 

He sat up, holding his palm out. “Hand the cat over, wife.” You hugged the stray closer to your chest. “Why?”

A quick scoff left his mouth, as if you personally insulted his own intelligence, “So I can give it to Uraume to dispose of it.” You solemnly pet the squirming cat in your hands. “It’s a he.”

“It,” he insisted, “is not staying here and will be given to Uraume to be taken care of. Now hand. It. Over.” You heard the bed creak as the imposing figure that was your husband made his way over to you. “You know I have no tolerance for pets,” you could hear the disgust dripping off the word, “let alone some weak mutt you found that came here by sheer luck. How the scavengers haven’t gotten their go at it is a mystery to me.

The loss of fur and warmth overtook your palms when he snatched the feline up by the scruff of his neck. He inspected the cat(and your worried expression), before speaking, “Do not fret, petal. He will not be killed. I am not some heartless brute. He will simply be released back into the wild. Where he came from,” he shrugged, coming up with a suitable resolution that he assumed you’d want to hear. 

“I want him to be released back into my hands,” you held your hands out towards him expectedly. “Please, I will take care of him. I have already fed him, bathed him, and I hid him all day. You did not seem to notice then or until I stepped foot here. Have I not inadvertently proved I can handle him just fine?” You had him.

“I did notice because I have been to hearings that, may I remind you, you should’ve been in attendance at, and ‘visited’ many villages and towns. All you have inadvertently done is shown me that taking care of this kitten and adhering to your royal duties is something you are not capable of multitasking,” he paused before continuing, as if he were trying to think about how to phrase his next critique. “Your sight as well would be a hindrance to its care and safety.”

The mention of your lack of a specific sense stunned you. “You know I am more than capable despite my disability. If anything, I missed our hearings because I knew my husband would instantly just see me with a dirty stray and take him away,” you smirked, “And obviously, our hearings did not cover anything of importance. Surely, your demeanor would be alert. More tense. If anything, you’re relaxed, dear husband. As though all you were waiting for was your wife to return to bed with you.” 

You shook your hands again, a reminder of your past command. Tiny claws dug into the first layer of your skin. “Fine. Keep your pile of fleas and disease,” he groaned. “However, if that thing becomes too much for you, or you start to lack in your abilities, I will have Uraume take it away. Do not underestimate my promises. Though I do hold affection for you, none–and I mean none–transfer to that.”

A shrill meow instantly undermined Sukuna’s thinly veiled threat towards the source of noise. You smiled, still happy that he agreed to co-existencing beside the cat. “Thank you, Sukuna. I will ensure my duties are kept up with and the health of our cat is my top priority."

You brushed past him(sneaking a quick kiss to what you thought was his cheek, but was his shoulder), lying on the bed, the curious feline deciding to settle atop your stomach, the tassels attached to the tie of your robe serving as makeshift blankets for the tiny thing. 

“No. No way in hell is the thing sleeping in our bed.” He tried to challenge the cat’s sleepy act, but when he saw your hand comfortably resting on his head, and the small body beneath being lulled into sleep, he decided he could make an exception for that night only.

˚ ༘ ❀AN: another short drabble about blind reader and sukuna! ill probably make a multi-chapter fic soon, but im also working on a one-shot for nanami and another fic about choso! also, i deadass just used this drabble as practice for dialogue, so if it seems like they yapped alot, that's why! :3 requests/asks are open!! have a great day/night

[zilkenian-davenport]

A little fanart for @elsa-fogen 's blind Alastor. I really like that AU.

I also decided to change the brush I use to draw. The other one was cool, but too thick.

(Just realized that eye is huge. Alastor was having a bowling ball stuck in his head. I should check proportions a bit more...)