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mapis-putellas · 1 month ago

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𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍/𝑨.𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊

It was a busy Wednesday at the clinic, one of those days when the waiting room was packed with anxious pet owners and the phones never seemed to stop ringing. You were running on coffee and sheer determination, the day already off to a chaotic start with back-to-back surgeries and checkups. There were only three veterinarians working today, and you’d just wrapped up a particularly tricky procedure when the receptionist flagged you down for your next appointment.

You nodded, grabbing the chart and glancing at the name: Aitana Bonmatí. The name didn’t ring a bell, but then again, you weren’t exactly well-versed in local celebrities or sports stars. You stepped into the waiting room, scanning the crowd until your eyes landed on her.

She sat in the corner, her hands gripping the handle of a cat carrier resting on her lap. She was petite, her dark hair tied back in a neat ponytail, dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans. Despite the packed room, she looked calm, though there was a hint of nervousness in the way she glanced around. When your eyes met, she offered a small, tentative smile, which you returned instinctively.

“Aitana?” you called, and she stood up quickly, clutching the carrier like it was a lifeline.

“Sí,” she replied, her voice soft.

You gestured for her to follow you. “This way,” you said, leading her down the hallway to one of the exam rooms.

Once inside, she set the carrier on the table but didn’t open it. Instead, she looked at you uncertainly, as though unsure of what to do next.

“So, what brings you in today?” you asked, flipping through the chart.

She hesitated, biting her lip. “Uh…” She pulled out her phone, tapping a few buttons before holding it out to you. On the screen was a google translate displaying a message in English: Sasha needs her checkup and vaccinations.

You smiled, nodding in understanding. “Got it. A checkup and vaccines.”

She nodded vigorously, clearly relieved that you understood. “Sí,” she said again, her cheeks flushing slightly as she tucked her phone away.

Your Spanish was rudimentary at best, but you decided to try anyway. “Habla inglés un poco?” you asked hesitantly, hoping to gauge how much you could communicate without relying on her phone.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Un poco,” she admitted, holding up her fingers to indicate a small amount. Then, she tilted her head. “¿Hablas español?”

You winced playfully. “Un poco,” you echoed, earning another quiet laugh from her.

“Well,” you said with a grin, pulling out your own phone, “looks like Google Translate is about to be our best friend.”

She smiled at that, her shoulders relaxing a little as you opened the carrier door.

“Let’s meet Sasha,” you said, gesturing toward the inside.

Sasha was a beautiful black-and-white cat with sharp green eyes that peered out at you warily. The moment you reached in, she hissed and swatted at your hand, making you pull back with a soft laugh.

“Oh, feisty one, huh?” you said, glancing at Aitana, who looked mortified.

“Lo siento,” she said quickly, clasping her hands together. “She… scared.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured her, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Most cats are.”

You tried again, this time moving slower, speaking softly to Sasha as you gently scruffed her and lifted her out of the carrier. She let out a low growl but didn’t resist too much as you set her on the table.

“She’s just a little nervous,” you said, then added in broken Spanish, “Está un poco nervioso.”

Aitana’s eyes widened slightly at your attempt, and she gave you an appreciative smile. “Gracias.”

As you began the exam, you tried to keep the atmosphere light, chatting to Sasha as though she could understand you. “Let’s see those ears. Oh, nice and clean. Good job, Sasha.”

Aitana watched you closely, her brows furrowed slightly in concentration as though trying to follow what you were saying. You noticed her expression and decided to slow down, switching to simpler phrases. “Sasha… healthy,” you said, gesturing toward the cat. “Todo bien.”

She nodded, her relief evident. “Todo bien,” she repeated softly, almost to herself.

The vaccines, however, proved to be a challenge. The moment you tried to hold Sasha still, she squirmed and let out a yowl, her claws catching your arm in the process. You hissed softly, pulling back to examine the thin red scratch that now adorned your forearm.

Aitana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “¡Lo siento! I’m sorry! Lo siento mucho!”

You shook your head, already grabbing a tissue to dab at the scratch. “It’s okay,” you said, smiling at her to show it wasn’t a big deal. “Just part of the job.”

But she still looked horrified, her hands fluttering uselessly as though she wanted to help but didn’t know how.

“Really, it’s fine,” you said gently, switching to Spanish. “Está bien. No pasa nada.”

She relaxed a fraction at that, though the guilt didn’t entirely leave her face. “Sasha… no like doctor,” she said.

“Most pets don’t,” you replied, giving her a reassuring smile.

With a little patience, and a lot of treats, you finally managed to administer the vaccines. Sasha was less than pleased, letting out an indignant meow as you returned her to the safety of her carrier.

“All done,” you said, straightening up and giving Aitana a thumbs-up.

She looked at you uncertainly. “¿Terminado?”

“Sí, terminado,” you confirmed, and her face lit up in relief.

“Gracias,” she said, her voice heartfelt as she reached for the carrier.

“De nada,” you replied, wiping down the table and disposing of your gloves.

As she prepared to leave, she paused by the door, glancing at you hesitantly. “Um… you… okay?” she asked, gesturing toward your arm.

You looked at the scratch, which had already stopped bleeding, and gave her a reassuring smile. “Perfectly fine. I’ve had worse, trust me.”

She still looked uncertain, so you decided to lighten the mood. “Sasha is tough,” you said. “But I’m tougher.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, and she ducked her head, clearly amused but still a little bashful.

“Don’t forget to book her next checkup,” you reminded her as she opened the door.

She nodded quickly. “Sí, I will.” Then, after a brief pause, she added softly, “Thank you. For… being patient.”

You waved her off with a grin. “Anytime.”

As you watched her walk away, Sasha’s carrier swinging gently at her side, you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest. You didn’t know much about her—didn’t even recognize her as a famous footballer—but something about her lingered in your mind long after she left the clinic.

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

#aitana bonmati imagine #aitana goatmati #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso x reader #woso appreciation #woso imagine #fluff

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whambambatfam · 2 months ago

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Webs of a Wing

Chapter 1

I am not well versed in DC knowledge. I've read a bunch of the older comics but, honestly, these timelines are too confusing to say I have a firm grasp on what the fuck is happening at any given point.

Anyways, this is my story, I made a tumbler for it. I'll definitely upload again..

When the fly on the wall starts to spin webs of their own, can the bats catch on? Or will they be left to dangle in the web they've tangled?

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

You're hardly school aged when you wake in a strange place, vague memories of someone patting your head as you fall asleep. Then it was all blurry and you went from cold hard ground, suddenly, to a warm bed worth more than you've ever seen.

Laying still, staring up at the ceiling, you lay dazed until you hear the door starting to creak open. Quickly shutting your eyes you wait for the suspect to peak inside.

When his voice sounds, back on the other side of the door, you perk up, "Who's this? They're kinda cute." A boy, most likely a few years older than you.

When that deep, fear inducing voice reaches for you, you jump out of bed after it. "Apparently, my child." He couldn't possibly be talking about you, right?

You make your way silently to the creaked door. Peeping through to watch them. "Huh? What?? Like seriously???" Hands resting on his hips, a boy of black hair and lean physique gapes.

A tall man with a build as intimidating as his voice, "Yes, I've run a DNA test and everything." His large arms cross over his broad chest.

Mirroring the older man's stance, the boy questions, "So, who's the mom?"

"I'm still working on that.."

"Have you.. asked them?"

There's a heaviness lingering in the hall around them. "We don't know if they'll talk yet, not till they wake up." He doesn't like not having answers, clearly.

"Can they?"

Swinging the door open, you bark out at your own defense, "I knew how'd to talk!"

His shoulder shot up, face blossoming in embarrassment, "Oh, sorry." Sighing, he tries to appear nonchalant. "Well, heyyy.. kid.. My name's Dick.” Placing a hand on your shoulder, he smiles, “Guess I'll be like, your, uh, big brother?"

Eyes widening, you step away from his grasp. Being in a strange place with strange people claiming to be your family was concerning. Even in your young mind, alarm bells rang loud and clear.

Like a light shining through your darkest times, his voice cut through the tension. “This may be all too much for,” A man, much older than either, rests his hand on your back, “the newly young master Wayne.” He ushers you gently back into the room. All gentle pats and kind smiles as he insists on you resting.

You never spoke about who or where you came from. It hurts to try, to think of the cold, the dark, the pain, the fear. Push out all the bad. Make it just go away. You just wanted it to go away. Wanted to take every memory of before and lock it up, never to be found. So, that's what you did, burying every painful memory. After some time, your young mind turned repression into suppression. Now, left with only bits and pieces, you couldn't remember even if you wanted to.

So, you’ll need to fill in the emptiness with this fresh start.

Life in the Wayne house started off joyfully. You found serenity in the solitude of the manor, disconnected from the rest of Gotham. When Alfred wasn't pushing tedious homeschooling work, you explored the massive house you'd be calling home. The quietude of empty ballrooms, winding halls and stodgy gardens was your respite. While it wasn't a place made for children, you felt at peace for the first time. The perfect home for a ghost with plenty of walls for flies and flowers alike.

Coming from unknown origins with no paperwork to speak of left you in a peculiar predicament. As a child was low grasp on the passage of time, you couldn't exactly say how old you were. Let alone when your birth date was. No one has ever bothered to tell you and if they have you certainly weren't going to remember. Infact, at Alfreds insists on a celebration, he comes to find you've never truly experienced a birthday of any kind. He had to correct this at once, give you a proper one with cake, singing and presents. It makes him wonder what sort of childhood you've been plucked from.

“Well, young master.” Alfred takes your hands as you climb the step stool next to him, “It's been a year now since you've joined us at the manor.”

Your hands slap onto the counter when you finally reach it. “Yeah, I like it.” Smiling wide up at the old butler, you babble on, “everything is so big and warm and it smells nice and I like when you cook and I wanna cook too and-” Alfred hushes your ramblings with a hand on your head.

“Yes, that's lovely, my child.” The other hand opens a draw nearby. “And that's what we'll be doing today.”

You tilt your head as the hand on it brushes over it and falls away, “Cooking?” Craning your neck, you try to peek at the cards he flips through.

“Well, baking, but yes.” He confirms, offering you a smile that's warm and sweet like his cookies, “Today was the day you joined the family, it's as good a day as any for a party.”

Your eyes light up, “A party for what?”

“Your birthday, my dear.” He chuckles softly at your look of awe,“Today will be your birthday, and every year I shall make you a cake.”

“Woah, every year?” You gasp as he hafs you the small stack of cards, each a handwritten cake recipe. While you can't read them yet, there are pictures of each cake pasted alongside the words. “That's a lot of cakes.. Can I help?”

“Whichever you like most we'll bake.” You're quick to pick one, waving the card around frantically, “I would be honored to have your help as well, young master.”

Alfred got to work with measurements, letting you pour everything into the bowls. He shows you how to mix, guiding you hand over hand when you struggle. You can't help spilling half of you what you're given, covering the counters. Sliding the pan batter into the oven, Alfred has you assist by wiping away your mess.

As he begins readying ingredients for frosting you ask, “Are those guys gonna join us?”

You're too busy scrubbing batter from your stool to see the way he deflates. “Unfortunately, your father and brother are tied up in something.” He sighs, taking the rag and finishing your job. With a sullen smile he hands you a measuring cup of sugar, “Perhaps next year.”

The night is spent merrily celebrating. When it cools Alfred frosts and decorates your cake. He places a number of candles, It's the first of many birthdays spent with just you and Alfred.

The next years were your first time in true schooling, a prestigious boarding school to boot. You couldn't remember seeing so many other children before. The eyes you received from strangers when given your new last name made your skin crawl. Deciding to forgo it in most encounters. Yet, for some reason to a great number of your fellow classmates, that fact seemed to matter greatly. If you met someone who insisted or withheld their friendship without, then you'd simply roll your eyes, never speaking to them.

You decided friends weren't important, instead making it your goal to not just succeed but to exceed. If this was your shot of a real family, you wanted to show them you were something capable. Worthy. You were hopeful, determined in getting close.

Only to be pushed aside at every opportunity.

“I got’ perfect score!” The words burst from you with such excitement you're bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Bruce doesn't even bother to look at the paper you're frantically waving at him. Simply mumbling as he places his mug in the sink, “Very nice.” Before turning to Dick, “Come on, son. It's time to go.” You thought maybe this was how a father was supposed to be. Cold, distant and hardly ever around for someone so small.

Alfred steps up from behind your slumped form. Plucking the paper from your dejected gaze. He hums softly before you hear a rap on the fridge beside you. “Wonderful job young master.” You smile for him as he pats your head. Happy to have at least someone’s acknowledgement.

From what your classmates say, a big brother will either pick on you or support you. Soon you came to find that living with Dick Grayson didn't guarantee you any of his time. Good or bad.

So, despite the terror that being center stage fills you with, you entered your school's spelling bee. The thought that maybe you could possibly impress them gave you just enough nerve.

“Hey, um, Dickie...” When you catch his sleeve, your teeth skin into your cheeks. He peeks over his shoulder at you, “Here, it's a competition.”

His nose wrinkles slightly before he smiles. “Spelling bee?” Not a real smile, you don't get those. It's a empty, meaningless thing that hardly lifts his lips.

“If you're not busy.” You clasp your fingers together, steeling your nerves.

“Uh, yeah. Maybe.” It’s thinly masked disgust if anything.

Time came to discuss bringing you into the public eye, an official declaration of your relationship with the Wayne's. Just the thought of it was unsettling, like placing a target on your back. The last place you want to be is the spot light.

“I don't wanna go. I won't go.” It was then in that moment, when the words left your lips, you could see it in his eyes.

A wave of relief Dick couldn't quite stifle, lip touching at the corner before turning to Bruce, “Maybe they're just scared of all those new people. With everyone looking at them, seeing them as your..” That uptick in his features falters slightly, “first child, technically.” Back then, you thought he cared. That this was actually for your protection. “It's a lot of pressure, maybe it would be better. For them, to stay safe.”

Bruce crosses his arms, examining his older child before looking back to the younger. “You have a point there, Dick.” You've twisted your fingers into Alfreds pant leg, half hidden behind him. “Fine. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. It might even be for the better.” Neither of them wanted you there, thinly veiled behind words of care, never quit saying it.

Not once then did you realize. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could say, nothing you could show for. Nothing to make them see you, the real you. You couldn't provide them with anything, that made you useless.

“Very well, Master Bruce.” With a sigh, Alfred guides you away as the two leave. He was always the one in your corner. Before you even know this life would be a battle.

This give on the topic began your gradual slope into obscurity. In the hectic years of adolescence, you'd come to the conclusion that private schools are for snobs. You manage to convince the old butler, with baked goods, to allow a change of schools. Not wanting to slow your studies yet overwhelmed by your known family reputation. Public school seemed viable, no one had to know who you really were. There seemed to be no object, or real acknowledgment of this decision.

You used to believe, despite how they act, this was it, this would be your family and you could be happy. Surely, you thought, it's because you're new to them. It must be hard to connect, you found it quite difficult yourself.

So, you decided, you'll just need to put in more effort. Show them that there is something that you and they can do together. You took up everything you Alfred offered to teach you when he was around. You learned to cook, sew and clean the whole manor faster than the master butler himself.

Of course, he had other priorities, not just as your caretaker. Try as he might to keep you at the top of that list, he still has duties to attend. So, you would take your days, even weeks, alone with stride. A good time to build your skills on your own, finding new ways to utilize them. Hoping for something, anything, to bridge the gap with your new family.

“I'll be home late today, Al.” While you had gotten away from uptight private schooling, Alfred still set into a well funded school.

He gives a light chuckle of disbelief over the phone, “You have plans, young master?” Pinching the device between your shoulder and ear, you fumble through your first ever locker.

“It's just a club, I'll still need you to pick me up after.” With all your free time, you thought you'd use more of your growing skills.

“At your service my dear.”

You took time to catch on, years of peeling away from the background. Picking and pulling apart from the inside out, finding something that could peak their interest. Hoping to think twice, even once to turn their heads back to the lone manner.

That's how you found them, their secrets; and the life that pulled them as taunt in one direction as the other did. Digging for a way that you could connect from beyond the twice eye catching lives they live day and night. You were piled with reasoning when you found that special place in the library they all seemed to love. The idea of passing the security felt out of reach at the time.

Walking along the dark water line, looking out to the misty sky. You don't wish for misfortune, but you wait. When that light flickers on and that familiar symbol reflects on the dark Gotham clouds, your breath catches. Ducking alonge the rocky cliff wall by the large alcove, you listen to the rumble. You brace yourself as something in the shallow cave opens, the rumble growing.

Then you have your answer. The Batmobile comes billowing out of the cave, in its wake you hide. Long after its departure from the property, you emerge from your hiding spot. Slipping through the closing doors and wandering down into the bat cave.

Despite how they see through you most times, you're sure Alfred knows when you sneak in. So, appreciating this to be Alfred throwing his hand up and hiding his eyes for your sake.

It's awe inspiring to say the least, especially knowing you live above it every day. It felt like peeking through the lives of strangers and you couldn't look away. You don't know why he kept it from you but you didn't want to be shut out for knowing. Yet, you couldn't satiate your curiosity with just this visit.

You had told Alfred you had a meeting after a club and that you would be home late. For some strange reason he promised Dick would pick you up.

Water splashes up from a speeding tire as you walk along the misty Gotham streets, “Aw man, come on!” Of course Dick didn't show! Why would he? When has he ever?

Now, in this situation, Alfred would wish for you to call him for assistance.

“Over there! Look, look!” Across the intersection a pair gasps and squeals, fingers pointed up at the Boy Wonder. The last thing on his mind as he leapt through the night sky, was an unwanted sister.

If only Alfead could get everything he's ever wished for, but you're not a fairy.

Following gunshot and bangs you skirt around chaos, nearly avoiding an obvious outbreak of costumed thugs. You watch in ired fascination as they beat down each threat thoroughly. As the moon starts to sit lower again and the bad guys are carted away, you realize how long you've been gone.

You arrive at the gates in tune to be blown past by the Batmobile. Inside, Alfred gives you a look as if he knows every secret you've even kept. Thankfully he doesn't say a word, You're out of your damp clothes by the time the dynamic duo ascend to the manor.

For people of the shadows, they never could seem to see you creeping through them.

It's through this that you managed to learn about Barbra Gordon. The commissioner's daughter was someone you could only catch glimpses of from time to time. It was rare for you to catch her attention. Much too preoccupied with her work for the Bat, your father.

The batgirl's skill inspired your own delve into tech. Hacking, coding and even trying your hand at tinkering with new devices. Creations that you've jerry-rigged and hoped against hope that she would even glance at.

She's coming over today, you overheard dick say so. You've poked your head over the banister as you wait to spot the red head. Yet, once she's there, you freeze. Dick and Barbara push through the front doors together. Light rain chasing them inside from the sturing storm. Their foot falls followed by light laughter and easy chitchat. If only it was so easy for you.

You watch as your brother scurries off, promising to grab a towel. This is your shot. “Oh, um!” Words are coming from you before you even know what to say. Stumbling over yourself, you bumble over, haltung in front of her. “B-Barbra?”

“Huh, who?” At the ruckus you've made, she whips around. Head on a swivel 'till green eyes locking on you. “Oh! It's you.. uh..” looking you up and down she stumbles as well.

You have to give her your name, again.

“Right, right. Sorry.” Barbra looks off sheepishly, carting a hand through her hair. Hand flicking droplets from the ginger ringlets.

“It's okay..” that's alright, that's normal Even. You don't see each other all that often.. even though you remembered her name just fine. “I just want to ask you about some-” Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, she cuts you off before you can pull out what you want to share with her.

“I've actually got to-” Her mouth snaps shut before she thinks better of words, “Well, um, talk with Bruce.” She finishes with an awkward chuckle and mumbled “Y'know how it is. Always something with the Wayne's.”

No, “Yeah..” You didn't know.

You've never shared more than a last name with the Wayne's.

Patting your head she smiles, “Sorry again, hun. Maybe later?” turning away down the hall Dick had disappeared to. Even to the all seeing eye you were nothing but a mere fly on the wall.

Gothams streets were dark, dangerous, and the only place you could see them for more than a minute. You loved nights like this, when you could slip from the manor. Undetected by the inattentive gazes that should have kept a preteen like you home.

With this habit of bird watching, you found yourself looking more into your subpar self defense. Living in Gotham has given you a natural caution but all too often you've wound up in tight situations. All because you couldn't keep your eyes off them. Maybe if you show them you could do that, fight back, they might see you.

You put yourself out there over and over, “Uh, d-dad?” Alfred insisted you call him that, but it never felt right, “I've been doing, um, I have this..” taking a breath you force it out, “It's martial arts, could you come see me?”

Another paper half glance at before the typical, “I'll see what I can do.”

Apparently, there are some things even Batman can't do.

“H-hey.. I, uh, am doing..” You pull out the flier for your competition. inspecting it over before looking to see him. Half-heartedly glancing up from his comic, Dick gives you a once over before continuing to read, “Gymnastics.”

Finally his eyes hold yours when the word shoots from your mouth. For a second you think this is it. This is when you’ll finally have his attention. Finally make that long awaited connection with your big brother. “I'll see, why don't you ask Bruce?” Dick lays the paper on the living room table in front of him.

“I did... he said the same thing.”

The paper is still there when you come back later.

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wannaeatramyeon · 8 months ago

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Daniel Park with Unhinged F! Reader

You, the peak of the verse with a list of supposedly strong and powerful men to kill meet.

I had a request sometime last year on Unhinged F!Reader helping out Allied. Soooo- this is my response to it...

'Why are you following me?"

You turn around in the alleyway to see a guy approximately the same height as you. Unremarkable if not for the way he has managed to pick you out from the shadows and keep up with your steps.

"Please, I need your help."

Help? Does this person have any idea who you are?

You arch an eyebrow at his request as he continues to stare at you with wide eyes.

Honestly. Did he think this puppy dog look was going to work on you? Of all people? You don't say anything, letting the silence add pressure until he spills out his guts.

Something about the Four Crews and HNH, which vaguely rings a bell.

You start to examine your nails as he rambles, quickly losing interest. Damn, is that dried blood underneath? You really must clean them better post fight.

And tch! Another chipped nail too. Ugh.

Oh. He's still talking, huh.

You've already tuned him out but the sound of his voice grows irritating and you cut him off, just as he starts to mention the Ten Geniuses or whatever.

You thrust a palm out at him, inches from his face and clever boy, he shuts up immediately. "Why should I help you?"

"Um." He hesitates. "I can pay you?"

"Not interested."

"I.. I can copy moves? You can teach me to be your masterpiece-"

"Cool," you say, stifling a yawn. Wasn't that crazy old doctor also a copy user? You dispatched him without difficulty.

"Let me guess-" You start ticking off each point on your fingers.

"One. You don’t move like you’re a natural, so you do have a master but they're not cutting it anymore- " He nods.

"Two. You've somehow found out about me and managed to seek me out-" You don't tell him you're reluctantly impressed at that part.

"Three. Then hoped that I would help you because I have such a good moral compass-" You roll your eyes at this. What is it with pathetic men expecting women to clean up their mess?

"Four. So you've come here to ask me to help and promise me riches as a sweetener but sorry to break your heart, I don't give a shit-" He recoils, taken aback by your bluntness.

"Anyway, which mediocre fool has been teaching you?"

"One of the Ten Geniuses I mentioned. The Learning Genius."

What a lame title. "Who?"

"Gun Park."

You have a vague recollection of this person and gesture for him to tell you more as you pull out your small slip of paper. The one with the list of crossed out names, that you hunted down and defeated one by one until only a few remain.

Oh wait... the name Gun Park is here-

"Um. Black eyes, half naked all the time, tattoos on his arms, smokes-"

"Right!" You click your fingers. "That loser! The Learning Genius, did you say?"

He widens his eyes at you insulting his master but nods anyway.

"Pfffft-" you stifle a laugh unsuccessfully. Goddamn that is funny.

"Learning Genius!" You squeal, letting out a cackle that leaves his hairs standing on end. The more you think about it, the funnier it gets. On what planet is that guy qualified, good enough, to teach anyone? You laugh and laugh, clutching your stomach as he backs away awkwardly.

Wiping away tears from your eyes, you make up your mind and ask, "What did you say your name was?"

"I... I didn't. It's Daniel Park,"

You dig out the pen in your pocket and add his name to your list.

He's undercooked. Maybe fun in a few more years but now Daniel is nothing but a baby. It'll be fun to crush him eventually.

"Listen," You fold your note carefully, slipping it back into your pocket. "I have zero inclination to help you. None."

He opens his mouth to argue-

And you cut him off again with a shrug. "Mainly 'cause I don't want to. Anyway, I'll find you once you're ready to fight. It'll be a shame to kill you any sooner, but-"

You lunge at him, slamming Daniel into the wall with a hand on his neck before he has had a chance to react.

"- Follow me again and I won't hesitate." You smile sweetly, like butter wouldn't melt. Smile stretching further, turning monstrous and unhinged when you feel him attempt to free himself from your grasp but to no avail.

You give his throat one more squeeze for good measure as he chokes and claws at your hand before releasing him. “See ya!”

Daniel drops to the floor, gasping desperately for air and rubbing at his neck. Thinks that this has been a grave mistake and now he has a target on his back.

He watches you, humming to yourself and sashaying away into the night, melting into the shadows once more.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism fanfics #lookism fic #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism unhinged series #daniel park #daniel park x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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nxtt2-u · 7 months ago

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sugar cube

you visit your baker boyfriend of seven months for a surprise breakfast date at his café.

content info — lee felix x fem!reader, 2.2k words, non idol au, baker!felix, established relationship, fluff/humor

content warnings — swearing, felix says something suggestive like once

notes — the song that hyunjin sings along to is camp by basecamp! it inspired me to write this (despite the lyrics having nothing to do w the plot) so i recommend giving it a listen :)

When you step into the cozy café your boyfriend owns, the small bell above the door cheerfully announces your arrival with a loud jingle. You slide your phone into the back pocket of your jeans and tread over to the counter with a yawn.

It’s quiet today, you note, and you discover why when your gaze drifts over to the usually-packed seats of the shop. You’re the only customer right now — it must be so empty because it’s not even seven yet, you conclude. With a tiny nod to yourself, you turn back to the display case stacked full of fresh sweet treats and lean down to get a better view, despite seeing the exact same selection every time you come here.

“Welcome to Sugar Cube Café!” A friendly voice calls out from the stock room. You look up and trace the sound to its source, finding the dark brown door to the space ajar. The voice continues, though it sounds a bit more winded now. “Someone will be with you in just a moment!”

“Take your time,” you call back in response and go back to peering down at the pastries on display. You silently contemplate on whether you should try something new as an upbeat song floats through the small shop.

A loud crash suddenly sounds from the back room and you jolt in surprise, blinking with bemusement. A second later, a familiar lanky man with a black mullet stumbles out, his fluffy hair mussed and the signature red apron of the café he wears slightly rumpled from all the commotion. You smile, biting back a giggle at your friend’s clumsiness, and he returns it as he moves to man the register.

“Hey!” Hyunjin says brightly as he presses palms down to lean on the counter. “Haven’t seen you in a while! What would you like today?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the barista doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak before his own mouth is running again. “Hold on, you never visit unless…” He quirks a brow, still grinning a bit toothily at you. “Are you here to actually buy a sweet treat for once or just to see your boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face contrasts the seemingly-irritated action so strongly that Hyunjin knows you’re not truly annoyed. “Actually—” you start, but he scoffs in a knowing tone before you can finish.

Hyunjin feigns hurt as he dramatically slaps a hand over his heart. “How could you!” He wails, since no other customers are currently present due to the early hour. “And here I was,” he continues with a sniffle, “thinking you’d come to visit and try one of our delicious treats for once.”

You punch him in the arm in playful reproach and he whines loudly, hopping further away from you despite the already considerable distance between you two due to the counter. “I do visit for the treats, not just my gorgeous man,” you huff. He ignores you in favor of clutching his arm, howling like it’s a damn bullet wound. “You’re so annoying,” you sigh to conceal the small chuckle that escapes you as you go back to perusing the pastries.

While you fall quiet and take a moment to contemplate, Hyunjin finally tames his hair and straightens his apron as he quietly sings and sways along to the new song that comes on. You nod along to it for a moment as well before tapping on the glass at Felix’s signature brownies. You’ll just try something new next time.

Hyunjin follows the lyrics into the rap verse of the song as he goes to pull a box of the brownies from the display while you sidle back over to the register to pay. He returns and places it on the counter a minute later, free hand fumbling for a bag as he busies himself with ringing you up.

Just as you remove your card from the reader and prepare to ask Hyunjin about the name of the song, you startle when a deep voice calls from the back. “Hyunjin! What did you do with the flour?”

You grin at the familiar Australian twang that softens the vowels of the newcomer’s words. With an exaggerated sigh, Hyunjin pushes the bag into your hands and wanders to the backroom, quietly closing the door behind him this time.

You slip away from the counter to claim your favorite booth near the windows. As you settle onto the cushion that’s slightly warmed by the fresh sunlight slinking in, you appreciatively admire the plants that hang from the ceiling with a smile. This café is so cozy; you love how Felix and his crew decorated it.

You tug your phone out and begin to mindlessly scroll on social media while you wait for your boyfriend to come and meet you. Without looking, you pull the box of brownies out of the bag, only to jump for the third time today when you look up to find Hyunjin looming over you with a steaming cappuccino in hand.

He sets it down with a snicker. “I was wondering when you’d notice me. I would’ve stood here for an eternity if that’s how long it took, seriously. Anyways, Felix is wrapping up now, so he’ll be out in a sec—”

“No drink for me, Hyunjin?”

You laugh at Hyunjin’s startled expression, pleased to see he’s the one to spook this time. Felix slides into the seat across you with a cheeky grin and Hyunjin mutters something about his blood pressure before he’s bounding across the café and into the back room once more.

Your boyfriend looks spectacular today, as always. Today he’s donned a distressed sleeveless red, white, and black argyle sweater on top of a collared white shirt that also happens to be sleeveless. He’s paired it nicely with a black tie and black jeans to match.

The simple display of his lean muscles has you salivating more than the smell of the freshly baked goods that’s starting to waft into the air from the kitchen. You notice he’s foregone his apron at the moment, presumably because he’s here to sit with you.

Blissfully unaware of the thirsty observations you’re making in your mind, Felix reaches across the table to lace his digits with yours. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today? I could’ve made you something special, sugar,” he pouts, thumb rubbing small circles onto one of your knuckles.

Your crazed thoughts melt into something softer at his sweetness. You smile at his thoughtfulness and lift your intertwined fingers to splay them out in an attempt to compare hand sizes. “I wanted to surprise you,” you say. You see the beginning of a toothy grin forming on his face at your words, but he quickly stifles it when he sees what you’re trying to do.

He snatches his hand away with a rueful huff when he sees how your hands dwarf his in comparison, and he lightly kicks your shin under the table. “I take it back,” he sniffs in a haughty manner, looking out the window with his nose raised. “I will never make you anything ever again.”

You giggle, bright and gleeful, and it’s not long before he’s breaking into laughter when he sees your face scrunched up in amusement. He’s too cute.

Both of you eventually settle down and you find yourself steadily drinking your cappuccino while he nibbles on the brownies you bought. Hyunjin eventually brings him freshly steamed tea, as your boyfriend has a notorious distaste for coffee despite owning a café, and the two of you chat quietly about your upcoming plans for the weekend.

You’re in the middle of proposing a possible future vacation together when the door bell chimes and three other employees stroll inside, talking loudly amongst themselves with smiles warmed by the sticky heat of summer.

They nearly don’t notice you as they head to accompany Hyunjin in the back, but Jisung swivels around last second and waves with a grin while his coworkers continue to talk. The two of you wave back and resume your conversation when the trio finally piles into the other room.

“So, Jeju Island?” Felix asks, tilting his head slightly. You nod, setting down your now-empty coffee with an affirming hum.

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe we could visit next Spring. I want to visit the Cherry Blossom Festival; it’d be so fun to go together, you know?”

He nods and rests his cheek in his palm with a soft smile. “I’d love that. We can work everything out in more detail as it gets closer, but for now, it’s a date. Right, sugar?”

You grin and intertwine your hands with his once more. “Of course. I look forward to it, baby.”

Someone gags from beside you. You blink and twist to find Minho standing at the foot of your table, grimacing at the two of you in disgust. Felix promptly bursts into laughter at the sight, and you find it hard to keep a straight face when you hear the silly noise.

Once Felix is calm again and has wiped his tears, Minho sets down a to-go box of cookies. “Chan says to take the day off and have fun,” he says, cocking his hip to shift his weight and wincing when it pops. You snort on accident and he glares, though it holds no real heat.

Felix arches a brow. “What? Nah, I have to work today—”

“FELIX!” Someone barks from the back. The Australian accent that blankets the man’s words is a dead giveaway of who the voice belongs to. “I have a feeling you’re refusing right now!” Chan continues to yell. You feel bad for everyone in the same room as him right now.

You expect to hear another shout, but let out a relieved breath when he pokes his head out through the door a second later instead of continuing to destroy the ears of his coworkers. “Just go, man, we got today covered. You deserve a break!”

Felix opens his mouth to protest, but in the blink of an eye you suddenly find yourself pushed outside of the café doors by Jeongin, the newest and youngest employee. His eyes crinkle with the apologetic smile he gives as he locks the door, and the two of you just stare in disbelief as he prances off to the kitchen like he didn’t just kick Felix and his girlfriend out of the café he very owns.

You continue to blink owlishly at the now-locked handle until Felix just puffs out a laugh as he runs a hand through his hair. “Damn, there’s no way he just did that!” He exclaims, loud enough to be heard through the thick glass. Nobody comes out of the kitchen.

“Well, nothing I can do about it now,” he sighs, turning to you with a mischevious grin, despite knowing full well he can just go in through the back. You play along regardless.

“Yeah, it’s a shame right?” You reply, giving a disapproving head shake with a tut. “That’s actually crazy. Well, since you’re off for the rest of the day, we should totally go back to my place and cuddle on my couch to binge watch sad K-Dramas,” you say, twining your hands with his and already starting to drag him down the street.

He lets himself be tugged along and lifts a hand to cover his mouth as he gives a playfully scandalized gasp. “Wow, that’s all you want to do at your place for once? Shocker.”

You slap him on the shoulder and his words dissolve into the snickers you love to hear in his low timbre. Eventually the two of you make it to the metro and file into a car that’s thankfully not full despite the time nearing the start of most people’s work schedules. You manage to snag two empty seats side by side, and he leans onto your shoulder with a pleased sigh as you admire the scenery that whizzes by.

You play with the ends of his blonde locks as his eyes slip shut and he falls into that strange haze between asleep and awake at the gentle touches. Once you’re home, you’ll push him down onto your couch and cup his pretty face. You’ll pepper adoring kisses all over his freckled skin, pressing words of love into his features. You’ll eventually pull away to put on a K-Drama you’ve been meaning to watch, but it’ll quickly be forgotten when Felix tugs you into his lap to return the favor.

But for now, you let your boyfriend rest against your side in this crowded cab of the metro. You pull your gaze away from the windows to instead admire the slope of his nose, the plushness of his lips, and the freckles that dot his cheeks akin to the constellations above.

When his nose crinkles after a few minutes of quiet dozing and he lightly shakes away an oncoming sneeze, you realize with a dopey smile that you’re in love with him. You don’t know how such a small action could abruptly trigger a realization as grand as love, but you can’t wait to show it through delicate caresses and sweet kisses when you get home.

#sugar writes: felix #felix x reader #lee felix #lee felix x reader #skz fanfiction #fluff #baker au #skz bakery au #skz x reader #they’re in love ur honor

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venusincleo · 2 months ago

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𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎.

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟶𝟸. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎.

• • •

Warnings: MDNI • Terry Richmond x Black!OC Eden Laurent, angsty, a lil sad... that's all... 🥲

Summary: After the events in Shelby Springs, Terry moves out of town, and goes to Covington, LA. Messed up about what happened to his cousin, he tries to keep his head low and stack some money. Only halfway effective, with just money to show for his efforts, he slowly spirals with grief before he has a not-so-cute meeting with a young woman on her own healing journey.

Word Count: 1.3k💚

A/N: I'm tapping into my younger self with these shorter parts... {taking it back to my 2014 Wattpad days lmaooo} I hope you enjoy this fic as the story progresses. 🫶🏾

• • •

The silence was deafening. Yet, there were so many elements in her peripheral, the young woman found herself glancing around the room every few seconds. The quiet tick of the analog clock right above the door, the short stints of heavier breath whenever one of her only students laughed at a TikTok on their phones. The calming woosh of the timed heater turning back on to fill the room with warmth. The ever-so-light taps of her nude brown pointe shoes against the carpeted dance studio. Eden had tried today.

She woke up and prayed to the Most High to give her courage, and to allow her to get out of her own way. She wore an ensemble fit to teach her favorite contemporary moves; adorned in her ballet cardigan and stirrup leggings. Her hair was beautifully curly and large, giving her an extra boost of confidence, and she felt good.

That was, until she walked the halls, perused the popular spots around the school to play hookie, snuck into the gym to promote her class, and still got nothing. Smiles that read ‘yeah, okay, bye.’ were her only replies, and now, she was sitting in her assigned room frowning at her phone like the two girls who always sat with her. They only ever said ‘hi’ and ‘bye’, and every once and a while asked to learn a TikTok dance. But that was it. 2 out of 415.

She allowed a sigh to leave her lips, and glanced from her phone up at the analog clock, and then back at her Instagram feed. Scrolling and scrolling.

After seeing one too many celebration posts from people she went to college with, who seemed to be doing way better than her, she exited the app in a hurry. Quick taps of her manicured digits helped her rake her brain for something that she could do, and soon, a lightbulb went off.

Navigating to her camera roll, she scrolled through her many videos of rough choreography and found her favorite one, then set her phone in her lap. As she rummaged through her Telfar, she grasped at her AirPod case, and then she was putting her left headphone in to watch the video. Tinashe’s Bouncin’, Pt.2 came through her AirPod and she watched her body flow around the slowed down melody and watery synths.

Her body moved slightly as her muscles remembered the majorette inspired routine, the words playing in her mind as she immersed herself in the recording. Hands up, back arched, hip popped, toes pointed.

She watched every movement, down to her facial expressions and just as the routine picked up –gained a soulful momentum– it fell back down. What was that? She rewinds the video and right at the part where Tinashe says ‘just like this…’ the energy is flat. Gone.

Pursing her lips in thought, she plays the choreo demo from the beginning but this time she closes her eyes to feel the song. ‘Watch it bouncin’ on the ground…’

She does the 8-count twice over in her mind, and then when she gets to the verse, she starts to think of something. Her fingers twitch as she imagines her hands outstretched, meeting in the middle of her chest, ‘can’t get any closer now…’.

Her eyes pop open, and she starts it over yet again, trying to think of another move or another, or another.

Briiiiiinnnng. The school bell rings, and the two girls are halfway out the door, leaving her to contemplate. Why can’t I get this…what is it missing?

The intercom clicks on with the after-school announcements, and she makes sure to grab her bag, checking around where she sat as not to leave anything. Once she cuts the light off and steps out of the desolate studio, she can hear the faint ding of a notification from her phone. With a slight tap to her home screen, she reveals the message to see an unsaved number.

‘Hey this is Terry from the store.’

Eden’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and she readies her thumbs at the keyboard to respond. Only, nothing comes to her just that quick. I didn’t expect for him to reach out. She reasoned. By the third day that she hadn’t gotten a text, she just assumed he wasn’t interested in her advice. And she was fine with that.

With swift glides along the digital keyboard, she queues up a reply, and then follows it up rather quickly.

Hi Terry 👋🏾

How’s your day been?

Eh not the best… how about you?

It was fine…wanna talk about it?

You free for me to call?

Eden looks up at the foot traffic heading out of the school, and she sighs.

I will be in a few

Terry looked at his screen for a moment longer, his shoulders rising and falling slowly as he stood in thought. He really needed a distraction…something…

cool.. call me when you can

After sending the message, he shoved the cool device into his pocket and ventured for the back room yet again. He was really supposed to be taking his lunch break, but his mind wouldn’t let him rest for too long without asking him harsh questions… Why Mike…why not me?

Unfortunately, sitting at the cold steel table in the break room with nothing good to occupy his time was too much to handle. He had to keep his body moving. Anything involving an accelerated heart rate was enough to act as a chaser to this survivor’s guilt that was plaguing him. And he needed something for the burn.

His footsteps were quiet as he basically snuck back to work. Quiet, but not enough to hide his large stature between the wide aisles of the warehouse. And of course, he was caught before he could really get his hands busy doing something.

“Richmond!” His supervisor’s voice was tinny, and he huffed through his nose at the sound. With a sharp pivot of his feet, he directly faced the average height, bald, white man.

“Head to the breakroom, you’re about to hit compliance.”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry’s footsteps were a bit heavier now, dragging just slightly as he took his sweet old time walking to the breakroom. Once he was under the warm light he dreaded, he made his way to the time clock and punched out for his break with a little over a minute to spare. Reluctantly, he beelined for his locker, and grabbed his Stanley transit bottle then his generic store brand water.

Just as he closed his locker door, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out to see Eden’s name. Instantly, he opened his locker back up and grabbed his work jacket, then locked it to prepare for his next thirty minutes.

Hoping not to miss the call, Terry tapped on the green answer button and put his phone to his ear as he exited the side door of his workplace. Going for his usual seat far from the rest of the benches, he heard a sweet voice call to him.

“Hello?”

“Yeah,” He clears his throat nervously. What am I even doing? “Sorry, I was clocking out for my break. I hope your day was better than mine.”

“Tell me about it… What’s been going on?” Terry hesitates. One second. Three…Six…Ten…

“U-Uh… I think it’s best I tell you more about myself before I start pouring my heart out…” He trails off, half-way expecting her to say she couldn’t care less. That she didn’t give a damn that his cousin died. That she had no sympathy for whether or not he could sleep without something on loud enough to drown out the noise. The pain. The memories.

“I’ve got time. Where did you wanna start?”

• • •

♥︎ I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

༓TAGLIST༓

@onherereading

*let me know if you want to be added to the ongoing taglist in the comments*

#mdni #romance #black fanfic writer #my fic #terry richmond #terry richmond fic #terry richmond x black oc #rebel ridge au #rebel ridge fanfiction #aaron pierre #slow burn #Spotify

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acourtofmusings · 6 months ago

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Penumbra - Series Introduction

pə-ˈnəm-brē : a space of partial illumination between the perfect shadow on all sides and the full light; a grey area

Pairing: Azriel x Reader Total Word Count: tbd

Summary: The inner circle has been sorely lacking a well-versed scholar, and luckily for them Y/N happens to bump into Nesta at a local romance book lovers convention. Her arrival comes just in time to flank reports that an ally of the Night Court is plotting something world-shattering. Despite every warning bell going off in her mind, she offers her assistance and finds herself enveloped in a dangerous game. Everything is at stake, and Y/N finds herself with a whole lot to lose when a certain Spymaster steps out of the shadows and into her light.

A/N: My falling-asleep fantasy scenarios have been extra intriguing recently, so naturally I'm turning to the world of fanfiction. For now, enjoy this teaser.

Chapter One (coming soon)

If there had ever been one thing that proved itself a constant in your life it was your need for the concrete. Black or white, those were the options. But ever since you had found yourself intertwined with the rambunctious group sitting with you in the large VIP booth at Ritas, things had steadily been muddling up into a daunting shade of grey. You smile at the sound of Cassian's boisterous laughter and take another sip from the drink you have been nursing for the better part of an hour. Nesta's calculated gaze lands on you from her place next to her mate.

"Y/N," she purrs, "You feeling okay?"

You nod and set your drink back down on the tabletop, tracing the rim with your finger. Your gaze begins a slow sweep across the other members of the inner circle, all sucked into their own individual conversations.

"I'm fine, Nesta. Just...taking it all in."

She lets a corner of her mouth quirk up, her subtle version of a well-meaning smile. "You'll get used to the noise eventually. They can get a bit caught up in themselves, but they mean well. Give it time."

Your gaze eventually settles onto the brooding spymaster who is currently nursing a double scotch on the rocks with the same level of disinterest as you. Shadows curl lazily over his shoulders, framed by powerful wings that are tucked tight against his back. He's leaning back into the cushion of the booth seat, listening to Mor's umpteenth dramatic tale of the evening. The movement of his shadows camouflages the swirls of black ink peeking from underneath his button down, and you take a moment to try and decipher what parts of the mesmerizing display are alive and which are tattooed. You fail miserably, reminding you again just how much you can't stand the nuance that surrounds this group of powerful fae. You force your eyes back over to your new friend, who now holds a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"Perhaps you should put down all of those ancient texts and become a spy instead."

You furrow your brow at her suggestion.

"Why would I do something like that?"

She chuckles to herself and pulls her own glass to her lips, finishing the remainder of the brightly colored drink. "You certainly enjoy starring just as much as he does."

You feel heat creep across your neck as you realize you were caught, and hope the swig of your drink that you take is enough for her to think it's a flush from the alcohol. You twist your face at the taste and shiver slightly as the burn runs down your throat.

"Thats what you get for ordering the well liquor," Nesta teases, "Rhys would happily add you to his tab if you stopped being so fucking stubborn. And don't think that amusing display gets you off the hook with me."

Cassian's wings perk up, and the nosy general turns to the two of you. "What display? What did I miss?" He leans down and speaks not-so-lowly into his mate's ear. "Is she finally relaxing? The both of you are way too boring for my taste right now." You feel heat burning up the sides of your neck and flooding onto your cheeks. Maybe your nervousness was coming off a bit standoffish, but you hated to think it was affecting anyone else's evening.

Cassian flags down a waitress and points between you and Nesta. "Excuse me miss, these two need to catch up. Get me two of something good and strong, please." He looks to you and wiggles his eyebrows "Add it to the High Lord's tab."

You begin to protest, looking apologetically to the waitress. "Oh, no thats okay, you really don't have to--"

"--add it..." Cassian insists, "to the High Lord's tab." The waitress smiles and nods, walking away to input the order. Cassian winks at you, smiling warmly. "You're sitting with the big boys now, sweets, no need to shy away from it. Rhys has money coming out of his ass, might as well put it to good use."

Rhys hears his name coming from his intoxicated brother and also turns his attention to you, violet eyes dancing with the same wicked amusement that often adorns Nesta's gaze.

"Ease off Cas," he chides, "I'm not that rich." The High Lord of the Night Court smirks. "Relax, Y/N, I'm not worried about what you spend on my account tonight. Or any night, for that matter. You're doing us all a massive favor, it's the least I can do."

You breath a sigh of relief and smile gently at him, and he returns it before looking back over to Feyre and Amren. Perhaps things were grey now, but maybe with enough time they could sort themselves out. Maybe you could actually find yourself settling into the rhythm of this group. As you feel yourself ease up, the waitress comes back with two bubbling cocktails.

A pair of hazel eyes train intently on you from the opposite end of the booth, marking your conversation and body language with acute awareness. Your timing was too coincidental. He had an odd feeling about you, one that his shadows seemed to enjoy egging on with their consistent pleas.

Need to know more. Let us learn more.

Azriel took a sip of his scotch, gaze still locked onto your form and only half listening to the tipsy giggling of his friends around him.

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel #acotar fic #acotar series #azriel fic #azriel series

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messydoodlesyt · 3 months ago

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SMG4 Crew Redesigns Part 2

HOLLLLLY CRAP THIS TOOK FOREVER!!! And I wanna blame Desti and her stupid tentacle hair, but honestly I think after Tari and Saiko I started to slow down because of outsides forces and just no general ideas forming for Melony.

So alright Tari!!! At least in the SMG4 Verse. I still gotta watch Meta Runner (especially because I wanna do a redesign of Belle at one point but she doesn’t really show up much aside from the YouTube arc plus it’s the last Glitch Productions show I gotta watch). But for this redesign I changed her hairstyle a bit with an opened up hoodie to show off the tank top. Couldn’t take away the iconic socks with flip flops she was rocking so kept that, but changed the pants a bit. I should’ve done it in the drawing, but the back of the hoodie has the meta runner logo. Nothing too crazy with her.

Next up Saiko! So decided to change up the colors a bit with her outfit giving her a cool ripped up pink skirt with less beige and more reddish jacket color. Then I changed her necklace to a choker and put the skull as a pin on the jacket. Then some piercings, a spiked belt with a heart skull cross buckle, painted black nails, and some combat boots! Also loved the headcanon people had of her being ripped so I did my best to draw that. Definitely need to practice drawing muscles more.

Okay so Melony- honestly it was tricky with her. Was not a fan of her canon design and tbh I’m still on the fence with her character- idk the OwO types of characters can get annoying pretty fast plus the childish behavior. But I mean she does have her moments where I’ve liked her (really wanna see more of her and Bob interacting) but yeah design wise I changed up the hoodie while still keeping the watermelon design while also giving her some black shorts, kept the striped socks she had for the college fit, and gave her green shoes. I also gave her a watermelon hairstyle for what I’m assuming are meant to be leaves on the top of her head. Then I did a small drawing of her deity form and gave my interpretation of it; even changing the hairband to fit the style.

Going down the line, Axol! So I initially went into all the Axol episodes thinking he was just a one note character that was a simp for Melony, but when I was first watching the arcs I was pleasantly surprised. He shows up before Melony for one thing, but even when she shows up he doesn’t turn into a one note character. Wish I got to have more of him. But anyways back to the design- I actually did like his design so I didn’t change too much, with just giving a turtle neck ish vibe, a beige belt, pockets on the pants to keep his blank papers and sketchbook, and gave him a tail since axolotls have tails.

Lastly Desti- good god it took her SO FRICKEN LONG TO DO!!! And it was mainly because of the tentacle hair!!! Horrible, never wanna draw again but probably will because I have so many ideas with this character. Like man I wish she was used more before the anime arc incident happened. So the hair I didn’t really change much, just had it flopped the other way. Her hoodie has a blue flare on the sleeves along with the hood part, ripped baggy pants, black boots, and a blue belt hanging out.

And that’s part 2! I gotta do more of the main ones like Bob and Boopkins but Bob already looks perfect the way he is and overall anything that’s not human is not my strong suit. Oh well.

Part 1 of SMG4 Redesigns

#smg4 #smg4 fanart #smg4 Saiko #smg4 Saiko Bichitaru #smg4 Tari #smg4 Melony #smg4 deity Melony #smg4 Axol #smg4 Desti #smg4 Saiko redesign #smg4 Tari redesign #smg4 melony redesign #smg4 Axol redesign #smg4 Desti redesign #smg4 redesigns

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roses-r-rosie3 · 2 years ago

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Dancing With Your Ghost: Unexpected Reunion

Miguel O’Hara x M!Reader

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

(Btw credits to whoever drew that spider-man character)

Warnings: angst, spoilers for SpiderMan: Across the Spider-verse, and memory loss-ish

Summary: Miguel was in love with his version of y/n from his universe but that y/n dies bc that’s his cannon, and he meets an alternate version of y/n who is the Spider-Man of his universe, but isn’t in love with Miguel

Quote: “I'm sorry, but you're not ringing any bells"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Miguel is what some people what call “cold hearted” but he wasn’t always like this. He was happy once. He was in love with y/n l/n. He loved y/n so much. But because he was a Spider-Man, y/n died. He died when that universes’s goblin blew up a building, while y/n was inside of it. It hurts Miguel to think about it. The way he held y/n in his arms while he begged for y/n to stay with him. But Miguel couldn’t undo the inevitable, and y/n died in his arms while he cried for hours.

"Miguel" Jess said, snapping Miguel out of his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" she said.

"Yeah, yeah, just a little tired, what did you want to talk to me about?" Miguel said.

"I found a case where an alternate version of the goblin from another universe got transported to another universe, and is now having a tantrum"

Miguel's blood ran cold at the mention of 'The goblin', the bastard took one of the only people making him happy away from him.

"I know you have some issues with the goblin, but you need to remember that he isn't our goblin-"

"Yeah, whatever let's go" Miguel said, completely ignoring what Jess had to say.

skip to when Miguel is fighting the goblin b/c i'm lazy af

Miguel spent what felt like hours trying to land a single punch on the goblin, each attempt getting him more riled up. All of a sudden another spider-man swooped in and kicked the goblin in the face dead-on.

"I'll take it from here" The masked hero said cockily.

That voice... it sounded familiar, but Miguel couldn't quite put his finger on it. But Miguel had no time to play the guessing game, so he immediately swung over to help fight the goblin.

When Miguel finally caught up to the other spider-man, the goblin had already been defeated.

"How-"

"it's easy when you're as good as me" said the cocky super-hero, as he cut off Miguel.

"Oh great another narcissistic one" Miguel said as he rolled his eye under his mask.

"I wouldn't call it narcissistic, more like- wait- what do you mean another- oh whatever, who are you and what are you doing here" said that universe's spider-man.

skip to Miguel explaining the whole spider organization

"Does you telling me this mean that I'm apart of this organization now, or are you gonna pull a 'men in black' and erase this from my memory?"

"Yes, you can join" Miguel said in annoyance as he opened the portal.

"Holy shit, very cool.." The masked hero said before walking inside of it.

"Hey, scary boss guy, can i take off my mask, that portal thing is making me feel sick" said the hero.

"Yes" Miguel said as he turned to see what the cocky hero looked like under his mask.

When the spider-man unmasked himself, he was revealed to be y/n.

Miguel couldn't speak, his once dead lover was in front of him.

"Oh I didn't tell you my name did I? My name's-"

"Y/n" Miguel cut him off.

"How did you-"

Y/n was cut off by Miguel hugging the life out of him.

"I missed you so much" Miguel croaked.

"Woah, woah dude I don't even know you" y/n said pulling Miguel away.

Miguel took off his mask, hoping that universe's y/n would notice him.

"I'm sorry, but you're not ringing any bells" y/n said.

"Y/n please, we have to at least been acquainted in your universe" Miguel said with tears in his eyes.

"Uh- you're starting to creep me out" y/n said

"Oh, uh, sorry about him, you just look like someone he used to know" Jess interrupted

"Okay then..." y/n said as he walked past them to explore the place.

"Listen Miguel, I know you loved y/n and he loved you, but that's a different y/n, I don't want to sound harsh, but he probably didn't know you until now, okay? Just know that our y/n loved you." Jess said as the other y/n was out of eye-sight.

Miguel just broke down. The fact that, that y/n will probably never love him like his y/n, He felt like he was re-living the grief he felt when y/n died in his arms.

#male x male #mlm #malexmale #male reader #mxm #gay #spider man across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x male reader #swearing #angst #Spotify

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witchcraftandburialdirt · 2 years ago

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❛ there’s so many things i wanna do to you. ❜ and by that he means lots of stabbing - Frank @ Haru

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. ═══ DBD VERSE ═══

"Right back at you, asshat." The remark was curt, sharp as the hunting knife sheathed on his thigh as he brought his hands together to crack his knuckles. "How about a little bare knuckle boxing until I'm satisfied with how fucked up you'll be after?" Haru reached up to remove the reflective goggles shielding his pitch black eyes, tossing them onto the grass next to his feet as he rolled his strong shoulders. Nimble fingers reached up to pull his long hair back into a tight, low ponytail while a smile played on his lips, "You're gonna have a damn good reason to be wearing that ugly fucking mask by the time we're through."

A few meters away, Robin sighed, "Well...I'm betting 2 on Frank, what about you Danny? Tarhos? You want in?"

#verse: dbd #bells of black sunday #subtle smut prompt #cursing tw #one braincell

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gogandmagog · 22 days ago

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Anne of the Island, by L.M. Montgomery

Anne of the Island, Chapter Six!

Getting so very close to being finally caught up. 🫡 I’m still in the book clubs dust, but if I squint, I think I can almost see you guys! Apologies to anyone that might see this, that might’ve already previously (and punctually!) shared a sentiment that I spent any amount of time reinforcing in my own posts. I haven’t skimmed the book club’s tag so far, just because I have this brain impediment where if I see someone else has already mentioned something I think, “...oh excellent! Now I needn’t bother!”, only, that everyone is so thorough that if I did go ahead and look at them, and saw everyone’s thoughts, I’m sure I’d find I had nothing left to speak on. A serial liking of all book club posts, coming soon to a notif near you, honestly.

Some weensy Phil bullets: mostly that well, I persist in representing Team Alec (only until a certain long-legged Minister appears, of course), because here is a fellow who would at least find the mix-up of Phil’s letter postscripts “funny.” This puts him eons and miles and worlds ahead of Alonzo imo... a sense of humour is so necessary!

Speaking of Redmond football, an insignificant matter that is once again very much nonsense and not particularly worthy of spending any large amount of much time reflecting on, yet remains a great area of interest for me personally... guys, what do we reckon the Redmond Football mascot was? Team name? I know there’s future canon abbreviation of Redmond students as “Reds,” but a colour is hardly a sufficient team name, nor do I really think it’s meant to be taken as such, and listen, no one even think of mentioning the stinking Cleaveland Browns football team to me, lmao.

“That Gilbert of yours.” + “outraged Anne” AIR KISS to these lines specifically.

“But Sloane was blissfully ignorant; he thought he was quite a fine fellow to be walking with two such coeds, especially Philippa Gordon, the class beauty and belle. It must surely impress Anne. She would see that some people appreciated him at his real value.” Oh, Charlie. I constantly waffle between feeling pity for Charlie, the butt of many-a-joke, and then also feeling that wellllllll his ego is a little bit exaggerated perhaps - although I suppose we get a clearer sense of that later on. Since all of Avonlea knows that Gilbert’s dead-gone on Anne, to the point of pubic heckling in a Charlottetown newspaper, we must recognise that in Charlie’s mind, he’s in active competition with Gilbert, who has certainly loved Anne the longer. Not an ounce of discernable bro-code anywhere.

Gilbert quoting some Bret Harte verses to Anne. This boy might not have a propensity for writing original poetry, but his memorisation and ability to drop a line or two so easily? He’s got a romantic soul, for sure. In a lot of ways, between him and Anne, it’s actually Gilbert that’s the romantic one (also see: keeping the rose that fell from her hair, back at the White Sands recital), and Anne the steady practical.

“Gilbert, who could not connect the idea of sorrow with the vivid, joyous creature beside him, unwitting that those who can soar to the highest heights can also plunge to the deepest depths, and that the natures which enjoy most keenly are those which also suffer most sharply.” This is heavy. But more than anything, something I very much enjoy about Maud’s work is her ability to maintain core characterisation. I see this line, and I also think of how much it (later) casts light onto Gilbert’s struggle to really relate to some of Walter’s Anneishness. There’s a wonderful yin and yang balance between the slinky black cats and golden retrievers of the world, and often enough they are deeply attracted to each other, but there are some differences that can never been fully reconciled.

The matter of Spofford Avenue! Again the scholars have already done a ton of the legwork, and lots of preliminary digging into Maud’s journals, picking out real-life links between between her time in Halifax and how it corresponds to Anne’s… and they’ve decided, very logically, that Spofford Avenue was based on Young Avenue.

At the time, Halifax was one of the richest cities in Canada and building on Young Avenue, definitely reserved for prominent families and the wealthiest, apparently came with enough beautification restrictions to satisfy even the choosiest A.V.I.S. member, only of a few of which I can easily remember… that power poles were banned on the basis of being “unsightly,” for starters. I know there’s a whole essay dedicated to the ‘real’ Kingsport somewhere, and if I can find it instead of just my jumbled notes & misc. folder on it, I’ll be sure to share it in case anyone’s interested. 🧐 I also recall that a very real tobacco king called Alexander Hobrecker (‘Hobrecker House’) did indeed make residence on Young Avenue, though whether or not he really had an affinity for well-made country quilts, is anyone’s guess.

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amrass · 1 month ago

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My Colm O'Driscoll/Micah Bell ship HCs

I originally posted this on my Twitter (yeah I know, the site's politics are icky as hell, but it's also where all the cool NSFW artists are and also the new, miniature Colm/Micah fandom) but I thought some people here could like it ☺️

Warning: This is a villain/villain ship, and dark. I'll list the SFW HCs first, and then the NSFW ones, and the latter can get intense.

Suggested ship names: Drisbell, O'Bell, Micolm, and Cah. Yes, like the crow sound. CAH! That's my contribution ofc ......

Feel free to reply with your own HCs. List after the cut.

SFW

At the core, there's this weird understanding between them, because both are emotionally numb and need to stay numb to survive as cruel, violent outlaws. They try not to reflect too much about death and damnation but can't help it as they're surrounded by it.

After his brutal upbringing, Micah finds more homeliness and peace with the O'Driscolls than the Van der Lindes. Colm's cruelty is different than his family's, but still familiar enough to feel homely and safer than actual safety would.

A bit like Dutch reminds Micah of his father, Colm reminds Micah of his grandfather. Not only because Colm has that sexy Nosferatu look going on, but because he's got a quiet and sinister influence, and is knowledgeable in torture. He also reacts with pride at Micah's killings, liking it when he is covered head to toe in blood, telling him he's such a good boy.

Colm uses different methods of indoctrination on his boys, and he finds Micah surprisingly easy to deal with. With Micah, simple attention goes a long way, and so do extreme but precise punishments like tooth/fingernail extraction.

They both have a disdain for religion; Colm grew up Roman Catholic, and Micah saw Amos be "snatched up" by a local Pentecostal church. They both secretly enjoy choir music, but rob churches to "compensate" for sometimes sitting outside and listening.

They have a similar sense of black humor. They hate purple things and have a complicated relationship with Colm's brother. They love cocaine, guns and in modern AU, listening to metal together in Colm's car.

NSFW

Colm is an ass-man (same) and his brain just zaps out if he's staring at Micah's ass. Micah learns to manipulate this in turn, wearing tighter pants, but sometimes this backfired because he can’t run away and Colm fucks him so roughly he forgets what he originally wanted lolol.

Micah has an oral fixation (smokes like a chimney from an early age) and secretly loves sucking dick. Colm enjoys having his dick sucked. But sometimes Micah gets way too possessive and keeps sucking after he's come, so Colm has to drag him off by his green neckerchief like a mad dog, and Micah just sticks out his tongue in retaliation before he swallows slowly with triumph.

Colm likes giving Micah piercings as a sign of ownership. Micah is bad at caring for them so they mostly get rejected and scar, which Colm also likes, if not only so he can re-do them.

In the biker AU, Colm once fucked Micah over his motorbike, Micah naked and him in full leather gear, and Micah is still jerking off about that memory twenty years later.

Both enjoy pushing each other's boundaries. Kind of obvious I guess, but the numbness adds a dimension to this where they don't always realize that their own boundaries have been crossed until it's too late. And they have more boundaries within emotional exchanges than sexual ones. This is where the love grows, like a tiny poison tree, unwillingly so for both.

Micah loves shot-gunning cigarette smoke and gets turned on by leather gloves and Colm makes full use of this.

This is the ship at its most advanced stage lmao: Colm likes getting fisted but rarely trusts anyone to let them do it, and Micah gets to experience this once (1) and never feels as powerful and in love as in this moment.

In the Micussy verse (thanks Skibiborg) Colm is so into period sex he acts like a blood hound. Micah crawls under the bed to get away but he's dragged out before Colm has him on the floor. He gets between his legs and chomps down like it's his last meal. Likes blood on his lips, his chin, his shirt, his cock, all over really. Bites Micah's inner thighs and neck just to see if the blood tastes different there. Will probably make out with Micah while he fucks him, endeared by his disgust at tasting himself. "Heady, isn't it?" "D-do ya, ghh, have f-fucking, iron deficiency, boss?"

#amras writes #colm o'driscoll #micah bell #colm x micah #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #rdr2 #red dead fandom

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odetolithium · 5 months ago

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Warmth - Snapetober Day 1

The usual hurt/comfort, dark themes for Snapetober this year. You can also find me on ao3 :) Thank you to @superfallingstars for preparing the prompt list!

There's a warmth to the voice of his mother, especially when she reads to him.

TW: domestic abuse

September 1968

Mother never cried when it happened to her. So, when it happened to Severus for the first time, he swallowed the shock and stared back into the face of his father, stalling his distress. His small fists were sheathed behind his back, not to retaliate but to press his nails into his palms. The sharp sting silenced the feeling caught in his throat. The weight of his father’s punch was a shadow that trailed behind Severus, in time with his small steps upstairs. Slurring his son’s name, Tobias Snape chose to follow. Stumbling from the kitchen table, where he was nursing a bottle of gin, he grappled with the clothes maiden that barred the path to atonement. He lay in a heap of drying clothes, cursing the ceiling, when Eileen returned home. The desire to plead forgiveness from his only son left as quickly as his temper flared. Severus crouched on the top step, peering down the dimly lit staircase. One hand was wrapped around the balustrade and the other, cradling his cheekbone. The stilted sounds from downstairs were now warning bells to Severus. He became another of his father’s targets.

Absorbed in the darkness of his bedroom, Severus squinted his eyes to catch the odd star in the black sky; dulled by the dirty window. He lay for hours on his good side, feeling the throb of his swollen face under his fingertips. His bedroom door creaked open, but Severus did not stir. The soft sound of bare feet was a comfort to him as they neared. The small frame of his mother suddenly illuminated with the strike of a match. Trembling hands lit the candle by his pillow then gently cupped his face. Severus felt a knot in his stomach when he saw her bruised skin.

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart,” she whispered, gently stroking his jaw. “Nothing wrong,” she repeated, before finding a spot on the single bed where she could hold her young son. Cradled in his mother’s arms, he allowed himself to surrender and grew limp under her soothing touches. Severus wanted to stay here forever.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain,” his mother recited, her voice barely above a whisper. “If I can ease one life the aching, or cool one pain, or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.”

Severus squirmed against her chest, desperate to hear the poem again.

“Can you read it again, mummy?”

“Until you fall asleep, sweetheart,” she stroked his hair and repeated the short verse. Severus, in the warmth of his mother’s embrace, grew heavy with sleep and succumbed to the night.

December 1974

Despite his sharp breaths and stilted steps up the stairs, Severus showed few signs of the agony that now stabbed his sides after the shock of blows from his father. The shouting continued below as he crept across the landing to his bedroom. His small refuge was bathed in shadow, but he could see the frosty mist of his breath as he gasped through the pain. He clutched his ribs with some pressure and lowered himself on top of his thin, greying sheets. The sky was a clear stretch of midnight and Severus could make out a single star suspended in the darkness. Unable to suppress a sob, Severus choked a painful cry and allowed the tears to run from his eyes. He shivered, willing the night to end when the shouting stopped, and soft footsteps ascended the stairs. His bedroom door creaked open, and Severus quickly closed his eyes.

“Sweetheart?” His mother’s voice drifted in with her small steps. Severus didn’t answer. He feigned sleep as the bed sagged slightly under his mother’s weight. She lay beside him, stroking his head with shaking hands. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, before softly reciting the poem from his childhood.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. If I can ease one life the aching, or cool one pain, or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain...” It didn’t take long for Severus to drift away, the warmth of his mother’s words soothing him to sleep.

December 1976

Clutching his head to stem the bleeding, Severus made a swift dash for the stairs leaving the mess of his drunken father in the kitchen where his rage continued. The contents of the fridge had been thrown against the walls, glassware from the cabinet smashed on the floor and Severus had simply existed in his warpath. He reached under his thin mattress, lifting it away from its metal frame to grab his medical kit containing his own healing potions. He uncorked a small bottle of dittany and soaked a clean rag with enough to cover the wound. Wincing slightly, he pressed it to his forehead before covering the healing cut with a dressing. His black hair fell back into place, disguising the stark-white plaster.

The soft patter of footsteps approached, and someone hesitated at his door before attempting to enter. His mother tried to open the door, but Severus had learned to lock himself in. His black eyes glared through the darkness, ignoring the gentle coaxing from his mother’s words. He lay himself on his bed, facing away from the door and away from the window where stars were absent from the winter’s sky. Cowering from the incessant cold, he wrapped his arms around himself. Severus whispered to the peeling paper on the wall.

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. If I can ease one life the aching, or cool one pain, or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain...”

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking - Emily Dickinson

#snapetober #snapetober 2024 #severus snape #pro snape #hp fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape fanfic

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just-horrible-things · 1 month ago

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‘Verse: The Annihilation

Solstice

Ahden enters Nikef’s room with a cardboard box full of bells. Not full hand bells for ringing out the dark, just strings of little bells for decor. The sound they make, jostling against each other in the box as he walks, is tinny.

“No,” Nikef says without looking up. “Not in here.” “It's just a couple of strings to make the place more festive. You don't even have to ring them if you don't want.” “I said no.” Ahden opens his mouth to argue, then sighs and leans back against the door.

Nikef sits on the floor at the centre of a great circular spread of pages, arranged in long spokes and concentric rings around her. Some are still mostly white, bearing only sketches, but most are dark with layers of black and red ink, or oily hues of purple, blue and bruise-green.

Ahden carefully avoids looking too closely at the papers, instead directing his attention mostly to study of the unadorned walls.

A few pages still sit in piles beside and on top of her knees. Nikef surveys the spread artworks, deciding where to put the page in her hand, before sliding another out of the way to set it down. A moment later she changes her mind, picks it up again, and slides the other page back into place.

“Is this all your art from the last year?” Ahden asks. “No, just the ones I like.” “You’ve really improved.” Nikef scoffs. “You hate it,” she says. “Yeah, but I can appreciate that it's, you know, technically good. It's really realistic. You’re a great artist.”

Nikef grunts. Finding a place for the page at last, she slots it into the diorama with a little nod of satisfaction. She picks up the next, and holds it up to compare to the others, shuffling round slowly on her knees until she’s done a full circle.

“What are you doing with them?” Ahden asks. “Arranging them by theme.” An airy tone of disdain fails to quite conceal a touch of defensiveness. “Just so I can assess what I've done this year.” “There's more than one theme?” “Well, kinda. They're all nasty. Nothing you'd want to look at.”

There is a beat of silence.

“Sorry,” Ahden ventures uncomfortably. “You know it's not because I don't think it's good. It's too good.” “I know. It's fine. It's not for you anyway.” “I know.”

More silence. Ahden studies the little brass bells in the cardboard box under his arm. Nikef is absorbed in arranging her artwork. Two pieces find their places without hesitation, then several are shuffled and reshuffled.

“Why would I want to celebrate the summer coming back anyway?” Nikef opines. “I hate the heat. Winter’s nicer.” “No late night dinners in winter,” Ahden returns. “No low sun over the sea at night…” Another scoff. “I haven't seen the sea in years.” “You like late summer night dinners though.” “Only because it's finally cooled down after the day.”

Ahden sighs. Nikef sighs.

“I do like it,” she admits. “But winter's better. I'm not gonna celebrate the season turning.” “It’s not going to get hot for a while yet, though. Solstice isn't really even half way into the season.” “True.”

“No bells, then.” “Absolutely not.” “Will you at least let me feed you tonight?” Nikef sits back on her haunches and looks up, for the first time since Ahden entered. She scowls, scouring his expression. “No festive foods,” she declares. “And that's not negotiable.” “Not even sweets?” “Absolutely none. Only regular foods you can eat any day of the year.” “Alright, alright. Only regular foods. Do we have a deal?” “Okay. Deal. Oh and don't dress up either.” “What would I even dress up in? My dress uniform?” She cracks a smile at that. “Okay.” “Okay.”

“I'll see you at… say, six?” “Sure. Six.” “And then take me out to train? I know it's late…” Ahden quirks an eyebrow. “You know no one expects you to work today, right?” “I know. I'm just itching to get some practice in. Please?” “If it's what you want, sure.” Nikef pulls a face. Ahden shakes his head, and opens the door to let himself out. “Six,” he repeats. “Dress uniform, was it?” He gets an inelegant snort of laughter for his trouble. “I’ll expect to see you in yours.” “Not on your life,” Nikef is laughing as he closes the door.

She picks up another picture. A portrait, which puts it in the back half of the circle. She pans past the entire quadrant of self portraits to the narrower slices dedicated to other people. The outermost rings are largely the oldest works, with her later pieces closer to the center.

Three full spokes are dedicated to Ahden. One depicts only studies of his leg. Missing. In the process of being amputated. Surgically, and in several imaginings of the actual process. Shredded as if he'd stepped on the mine himself. Shredded as if Nikef had done it, complete with electric blue highlights glistening off the black-cast blood.

The other two columns are more mixed, grouped loosely by emotion. Tears. Fury. Horror. Disgust.

Nikef examines the page in her hand once again. Ahden’s face is rendered in black and grey, aside from the empty eye sockets and the blood that streams down his cheeks. After some consideration, she nestles it into place between a half-flayed skull, and a low-angle piece in which he struggles to hold his spilling guts inside his body.

She sits back on her heels, and nods with satisfaction. She picks up the next page.

#my writing #wrote this while drunk over christmas apparently #the annihilation #nikef : the annihilation #commandant ahden musal

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