#battle spray (art)

[ichigoofficial]

I drew Exclamation Mark from Animatic Battle on Roblox Spray Paint! The server was surprisingly somewhat calm, so nobody ruined my art midway! ^^

Colored pencils in my eyes, a dream achieved ✨️

[tf2-plus2]

(another doodle, dunno what Soldier's suggesting or thinking about, but it has Demo concerned lol)

[weheartstims]

Can you do raid (animatic battle)?

Raid (Animatic Battle) with various suitable stims!

◼️|🔶|◼️ 🔶|◼️|🔶 ◼️|🔶|◼️

[engulfedbymaleficsaturn]

It's been almost a month now since I left my abusive ex. He still is contacting me and also stalking me while at work. He somehow knew what area I was in. As he knocked at every hotel room in the radius.. He believed we were in a room two doors down and busted the huge glass window out. I tried keeping My dog, peanut silent but he had to say HI and gave us away. At the door, he paced back and forth for what seemed like ever. Noone came for help or called for help. Now though I see that Motel 6 is what you can call a dead zone. Every day all day and through the night echoes of screams and cries. The girl next to me I feel is involved in it. Peanut is probably what has kept my son and I safe. The few times I have found myself without him. Certain parties have approached me. Right now I think they are just trying to get a feel. Dipping their toes before diving type of ordeal.

I am Selling some spray paint art pieces to try and gather up enough to get out. Any donations would be greatly appreciated. I wish I had more time to go in-depth with my life and be more consistent in staying updated on here. As a single mom, working, and being on the road with no stability makes doing what I am passionate for almost impossible. And now I am about to walk into a courtroom. Another trial in life that is all new to me. Things can only get better or 6 feet under.

"I can only say there are things that stand In the way of other things and the ocean murders all of them." -Melissa Broder

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Aegon I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: Aegon spends his life desperately trying to win the love of his sister. And yet he's never enough.

Warning: Non-Con (rape), targcest, physical violence, murder, obsessive and delusional behavior, child loss/grief.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to Denis Maznev. Hope you enjoy!

She was always there.

From his earliest memories, her face is etched in his mind like a cold, pale moon. She never smiled, never laughed. Never cried. Just looked. Always watching, always silent. Even as children, while Rhaenys played with him, she was a shadow in the background. A constant presence that gnawed at him, her cold eyes watching him with that empty gaze. It was as if nothing could move her, nothing could please her. But he tried. Gods, how he tried.

He was barely seven, still small but proud of the sword his father had given him. He had trained for hours, his arms aching, his legs sore, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to show her. He wanted her to see him—really see him—for once.

He had run to her, his little chest puffed out with pride, holding his wooden practice sword like it was Blackfyre itself. "Look! Look what I can do!" he had said, his voice bright with excitement. He swung the sword in wide arcs, spinning and thrusting as best as his small body could manage. "Did you see that? I’m going to be a great warrior! You’ll see!"

But she just stood there. Watching. Her face expressionless, her eyes cold, as if she hadn’t seen anything at all. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even blink. It was like he wasn’t there, like his efforts were meaningless.

He had felt something tighten in his chest then, a feeling he didn’t understand. A hollow ache that made his hands shake as he gripped the sword tighter. He tried again, swinging harder, faster. "Are you watching?!" he had shouted, frustration leaking into his voice.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything.

She never did.

And that’s how it always was. Every time he tried, every time he showed her something—his victories in the yard, his skills in battle—she just watched. Her cold eyes always on him but never giving him what he craved. Never giving him anything.

But then, that day came. The day that broke something inside him.

He remembers the sound first. The sound of her laughing. It was so foreign, so unexpected that he almost didn’t believe it at first. He had stopped in his tracks, heart racing, the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears like the sweetest music he’d ever heard. For a moment, just a moment, he thought it was meant for him. Finally, he thought, she was laughing. She was happy. Maybe, just maybe, he had done something to make her feel.

But then he saw it.

She wasn’t laughing with him. She wasn’t laughing for him.

She was laughing with a man. Some nobody. A fool. A good-for-nothing who could never even begin to understand her, let alone deserve her. And yet, there she was, her eyes shining, her lips curved into a smile—something Aegon had never seen in all his life. She was radiant, her laughter like music, but it wasn’t for him.

The rage came fast, burning through his veins like fire. How dare this man, this insignificant speck, be the one to bring her joy? How dare she smile for him, laugh for him, when she had never once given Aegon anything but that cold, dead stare? He could hardly see through the fury as he drew his sword, his heart pounding in his ears, and with one swift strike, he cut the man’s head clean off.

The blood sprayed across the floor as the man's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, useless. And Aegon, triumphant, stood there holding the severed head, his heart racing with the thought that maybe now—now—she would see how much he loved her.

He brought the head to her, a smile tugging at his lips, presenting it like a gift, like an offering to a goddess.

But then, for the first time, he saw her cry.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent, like everything else about her. She didn’t wail or scream, just wept, her cold, distant eyes filled with sorrow. But not for him. Never for him. The realization hit him like a dagger to the chest. She wasn’t crying for him. She was mourning the other man, that worthless fool.

Could she not see? Could she not understand what he had done? He had killed for her. For her. To prove his love. Why couldn’t she see that?

It was worse now. So much worse.

He stands in the room, their child’s room, staring at the small bed where their son had once slept. His heart is heavy, his chest tight with grief that he can’t seem to swallow. Tears burn in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Their child is dead. Gone. And he can barely breathe from the weight of it.

But when he looks at her, she’s standing by the window, her back to him, staring out into the night as if nothing had happened. As if their son wasn’t lying cold and still in the crypts below.

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t even move.

His son, their child, lay lifeless, and yet...she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. The realization gnawed at him, twisting in his chest like a knife. If it had been another man’s child, would she be mourning now? Would she cry for that child, like she had cried for that worthless fool?

"Do you...do you not care?" His voice cracks, the words barely a whisper. He feels like he’s choking on the silence. "He was our child. Our son." His hands tremble, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Why… why?"

She doesn’t answer. Of course, she doesn’t.

She never answers.

The hollow ache that had plagued him since childhood is back, sharper than ever. He stares at her, at her still, cold form, and something inside him snaps. He can feel it, like a tether breaking, a dam bursting inside his mind.

"Why?" he growls, his voice low, trembling with fury. "Why can’t you love me? Is it really so hard?!" He steps toward her, fists clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. "I’ve done everything for you. Everything!"

His hands shake as he grabs her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face him. She looks at him with that same blank, emotionless expression, her eyes cold and distant, as if she’s not even here. As if she’s not even alive.

"I killed for you!" His voice is rising, desperate, wild. "I’ve fought for you, bled for you! I’ve done everything you could ever want, but you—" He pauses, his breath coming in harsh gasps as a dark, twisted thought coils in his mind. "Is this because of him? Because I killed that servant? Did you really think he could love you more than I do? That he deserved you? Him?"

His grip tightens, fingers digging into her flesh. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rage coursing through his veins. "I am the one who loves you. I’m the one who’s always loved you!"

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react. Just stares at him with those empty, cold eyes.

The silence is unbearable. It breaks him.

With a roar, he grabs her dress, tearing at the fabric, ripping it apart in his hands. He’s rough, vicious, his fingers leaving bruises on her pale skin as he forces himself onto her.

She doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t scream. She just lies there, blank, her body cold and still beneath his. The more she doesn’t react, the harder he thrusts, the rougher he becomes, as if he can force her to feel something—anything. He can feel the blood, can see the bruises forming on her skin, but she just keeps staring at him, those empty eyes boring into him, cold and unfeeling.

But it didn’t matter.

She will love me. She will.

"You will love me," he growls, his voice low and savage, each thrust more brutal than the last. "You will love me. You’ll see. I’ll make you."

But she doesn’t change. She never changes.

Even as her body bleeds, even as he takes her in the most violent, twisted way, she just looks at him with that same cold, distant stare. As if he’s nothing. As if nothing will ever be enough.

Her eyes stayed cold.

Her eyes stayed empty.

And still, he kept going.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Four

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Violence and injuries

Seven months later

This shit was getting old.

One of Doc Oc’s tentacles rammed into Miguel’s side, tossing him against a wall and leaving a crack in the concrete. She smiled in satisfaction, oblivious to the spider-venom blaster he’d stuck to the underside of the mechanical arm. With a quick chirp and blast of energy the arm was blown off. It landed with a pitiful twitch on the ground as electricity sparked through its circuitry.

“Let’s go!” Hobie whooped, slamming his fingers down the guitar strings with so much force Miguel was surprised they didn’t snap in two. 

Doc Oc screamed, blown backward by an eclectic spray of pink and purple newsprint. 

Three arms down, five more to go… or so they thought. 

New arms sprouted from their old stumps, flailing around for a brief moment before they shot out towards Hobie. 

He barely dodged the series of blows.

“Is that hammer space, bruv?!” 

Joder.

Hobie lept around the barren stage, launching battered amplifiers slathered in a dozen layers of stickers towards her. A stray limb punched through the drumset as Hobie spun out of the way. 

He gasped. The amps they could replace, but no one fucked with his instruments.

“Is it time to call for backup?” Lyla asked Miguel as Hobie gripped the neck of his guitar (the battle-safe one of course) and swung at Doc Oc’s head.

“Do not call for backup!” Miguel growled in annoyance. 

He could handle this.

“Yeah, I didn’t even ask you to come, mate!” Hobie yelled over the sound of Doc Oc sailing over the empty mosh pit and crashing into the guard rails. “I ain’t part of no band.”

“You literally just finished a concert three hours ago!” 

“That got nothing to do with you.”

Miguel groaned, ready to bash his head into the wrecked drum kit. 

No puedo más. No puedo más. He found himself thinking that a lot lately.

But as much as Hobie and Miguel liked to pretend they hated each other, they made a good team out in the field. They swung from the ceiling lights, electric blue and pink lights showering down on them in that crazed, photomontage way that tinged every part of Hobie’s world. It was enough to give Miguel a headache. 

The worst part about the multiverse is that there was no telling what kinds of powers and modifications existed out there. For example, Miguel didn’t know a Doc Oc existed that had lasers shoot out of their tentacles.

“I feel like it’s time to call for backup.” Lyla repeated, casually watching from the safety of her AI existence as Miguel’s webs were split in two and he took a sickening punch to the jaw. He shook his head, blinking away the dots in front of his eyes as he took a moment to rest in the comfort of his rubble sofa.

“Do not call Jess. She’s on maternity leave.”

“I wasn’t talking about Jess.” Lyla grinned mischeviously. 

Miguel narrowed his eyes, “No. Absolutely not.”

It was too soon, far too soon for him to drag you into a fight like this. 

“CALL FOR BACKUP!” Hobie cried out from the confines of Doc Oc’s tentacles, squirming around and trying to use his head spikes to free himself.

“You weren’t saying that earlier!”

“THAT’S THE TOXIC MASCULINITY TALKING! YOU GOT TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH CHANGING YOUR OPINION AND ADMITTING YOUR FAU-”

A portal opened up stage left. 

Miles swung out first, black and red suit standing out like an ink stain.

“¡¿Alguien pidió ayuda?!” Miguel could hear his smug smile through the mask.

“You already called him!?” Miguel scowled and hopped onto his feet, sprinting to join the fight as Miles landed his first punch against Doc Oc. 

Relief flooded his system. He thought that-

“I actually called her.” Lyla said, pointing a finger with a grin.

Miguel’s heart skipped a beat.

You stepped through the portal, adjusted the gloves on your newly designed suit and teleported yourself onto Doc Oc’s back, casually blinking away any tentacles that got too close. 

You were absolutely buzzing with excitement. Nevermind that you were currently blinking across spacetime to avoid the lazers that left behind scorched scars on the grass. This was your first real mission outside of occasionally helping Miles with his friendly neighborhood Spider-Man duties. And in Hobie’s dimension no less! Ever since you’d seen his unique color palette and design you’d been itching to see his world for yourself. Maybe you and Miles could take an impromptu field trip to the nearest museum afterwards.

“Lyla said you didn’t want to call me.” You said, happy with the way his eyes slightly widened beneath his mask. He coughed to clear his throat.

“You’re supposed to be at work.” Miguel said, tearing into Doc Oc’s tentacles with his forearm blades, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s summer break.” 

“You said you were teaching summer classes.” 

“I am! Only five kids are enrolled and he,” You tilted your head towards Miles, who waved back before he tore off an arm, "was the only one who could come to the Met field trip. Which you so rudely interrupted by the way.” The smile in your voice exposed the fact that you were quite ok with the interruption.

Miguel rolled his eyes half-heartedly, hoping you didn’t notice his restrained smile.  “Let’s just get the job done.”

And you did. 

Fighting a flesh-and-blood supervillain was a far cry from the simulations you’d fought at Spidey HQ where the only injury you could sustain was a blow to your pride when Lyla flashed the battle stats on the screen. Your training also didn’t account for the absolute chaos of working with a team. You nearly got in the way of one of Miles’s spider venom blasts and accidentally teleported onto Hobie’s back, throwing him off his rhythm long enough for a punch from Doc Oc to send you both crashing. Miguel had nearly lost his mind after that.

But after walking away from the fight with only a bruised jaw, cut upper arm, and a very disgruntled Doc Oc in tow, you were going to call your first real superhero outing a success.

“Sorry about earlier,” you said, extending a hand out to Hobie from where he groaned on the ground. He grabbed your arm and rolled onto his feet, shaking the dust off his jacket.

“Eh, it’s part of the learning.” He straightened his coat and reattached one of the pins he’d tucked safely away in his pocket, “Not bad for a first anomaly though.”

“Hmmmm, are we counting Spot?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

A shadow fell over your shoulder and you smirked, turning around on your heels to come face to face with Miguel. The fight was over, but somehow Miguel looked even more tense and irrate than before. Behind his back you saw Doc Oc yell and punch at the orange walls of her prison. 

“Are you here to say good job?” You teased.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice tight.

Hobie brushed past you, “I’m good, cheers.” he said, patting Miguel on the shoulder before heading over to where Miles stared in awe at the anomaly. You felt more than saw Miguel roll his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you.” 

“I know.” 

Hobie’s reply widened your smile. There was something glorious about seeing Miguel lose his cool. Normally you tried to get him to smile or laugh, but sometimes annoyance was an easier emotion to muster from him. It reminded you that beneath all that hard-won armour was a man just trying his best.

“I’m fine, Miguel.” You said. 

He gently tugged at the bottom of your mask and you took the hint, pulling it off entirely. Miguel’s frown deepened as he gently tucked a finger beneath your chin and turned your face to the side, eyes narrowed in on your swollen jaw. You tried not to blush under his watchful gaze. It really wasn’t a terrible injury, and with your enhanced healing it would fade within a day, but it stll felt like a gut punch to Miguel.

You were used to this kind of attention from him. The first two months after joining the Spider Society had been a pool of uncertainty that you’d flapped around in with little control - you’d been uncertain about your powers, the multiverse and your place in it, and your relationship with Miguel… especially your relationship with Miguel. 

His aloofness was only matched by his sincerity and once you’d forgiven him for what he’d done to Miles, you found him easy to like. His grouchiness and sarcasm pulled smiles from you as easily as water from a spring, and it didn’t escape anyone’s notice that you were the only one who could make him laugh and crack through his walls. But there was always that itch in the back of your mind that told you he only cared because you looked like his wife, not because you’d both grown to know and care for each other. 

You tried not to think about it too often. 

It made moments like these harder to handle.

“Nada que no pueda manejar.” You said softly, pulling his hand away and towards the anomaly, “Now come on. This anomaly isn’t just going to hop dimensions on its own.” 

Miguel opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately relented, allowing you to lead him to where Hobie and Miles bent their heads towards one another, shooting jokes back and forth as easily as their webs.

Margo portaled in to help Miguel take Doc Oc to Earth-928 and you watched their retreating backs disappear with a blink before Hobie turned towards you and Miles, rubbing his hands together and pulling you both into his side.

“Now! Who’s ready to see some real art?”

______

“I can’t believe all the museums in your dimension are Koons-themed.” Miles said, slouching in his seat and looking positively disappointed.

“Why’d you think I took you to the back alleys, mate. Real art’s cheap.”

“Say that to my bank account after a trip to Blick.” You muttered, biting into your empanada with a groan of satisfaction.

You sat cross-legged on top of the bench, watching Margo’s cyber body split into two as the Go Home Machine whirred to life. Its metal claws clicked together, sounding like the chirping of birds as it spun its web around Doc Oc as she watched with no small amount of curiosity.

“You think you could ever do that?” Hobie asked, leaning against your shoulder and slinging his arm around you casually. 

You raised your eyebrow, “What, forcefully send a living person back to their home dimension?”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You try interdimensional travel without your fancy watch and tell me how easy it is.” You said with a grin, poking at his side until he squirmed away with a chuckle. You took the opportunity to steal a french fry from him.

“Alright, alright, stop. I think you could do it.”

The four of you watched as the Go Home Machine finished its kaleidoscopic work. Miguel always had a clinical view of the work he did and the machines he created. Whenever it was traveling to another world, or encountering a new being (Spider-Person or otherwise) the last thing on his mind was beauty or a fascination with the ways things were. That’s where you two differed the most. So while Miguel hardly ever stayed around to watch the Go Home Machine run its science-magic, you always craned your neck to catch glimpses of the worlds beyond Earth-928.

“I better check in with Miguel.” You said, hopping off the table once Doc Oc was safely back in her home universe.

Hobie, Miles, and Margo all shot each other a knowing look before you could notice. 

Now that school was out for the summer you found yourself spending more and more time on Earth-928, and after six months of training you could walk to Miguel’s lair from any part of the building with a blindfold on. The first few weeks you hadn’t been able to suppress the slight unease at entering the dark room where many of the captured anomalies would sneer at you like you were a meal to be hunted.

Now… not so much.

“You’re still here, Norm?” You asked, catching sight of the familiar gentleman who shrugged and smiled. He sat comfortably on the floor, purple hood and goggles abandoned beside him to expose his weathered face.

“Still here,” He repeated, “I suppose I’m not as high a priority to send home now that I’m not, you know, evil anymore.” He sighed, “I just can’t believe my luck. I leave an alternate universe and not even a year later I’m sucked into another one!” He chuckled.

“I’ll talk to Spider-Man about it.” 

“Peter?!” His eyes brightened at the possibility.

“Ummm…no. Sorry.” 

He nodded, shoulders deflating every so slightly, “Thanks anyway Spider-”

“Y/sh/n, actually.” Miles and Gwen had helped you come up with it.

“Well, thank you Y/sh/n.” He said and waved you on before he could steal more of your time.

“I told you it’s dangerous to talk to the anomalies.” Miguel said, eyes still trained on the screens as you blinked next to him. One day you’d manage to sneak up on him, but today was not that day. 

You frowned when you saw he was still wearing his mask. 

“Well you’re talking to me right now, aren’t you?” You said, bumping his shoulder with your own before climbing onto the empty space on his desk he subtly reserved for you.

Miguel stiffened and his fingers froze over the keys. It had taken you months to fully forgive him for all the terrible things he’d said and done to Miles - the things he may have said to you if you didn’t have his wife’s face… if you were just a regular anomaly.

“That’s not what I-.” 

“You also said Earth-199999’s Peter Parker took care of the Green Goblin. I think we’re fine.” 

He nodded and sighed. His eyes were killing him right now and even the faint flicking of the red-orange lights from the screens felt like blows to his skull. 

“He wants to go home.” You said and saw his eyes flicker to the anomaly on the screen, red and tired.

“I know. He’s scheduled to be sent back tonight. I promise.” 

You nodded with satisfaction and snapped your fingers, a pair of sunglasses blinking into the palm of your hand, “You should take a break. You’ve been working non-stop for over two days now.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“The multiverse is not going to shatter because you take a thirty-minute lunch break, Miguel.” 

He eyed you warily and shook his head, fingers flying across the touchpad like they were racing to win gold. 

He always did this. He always worked himself to the bone until you would find him red-eyed and slumped over the tabletop for one of his thirty-minute “power-naps.” 

“Lyla.” You called out. The woman appeared perched on your shoulders.

“You rang?”

“Can you please tell Miguel that the multiverse isn’t going to collapse before he does?” 

“Ooooh you said please. I like you.” Miguel muttered a few choice words under his breath, “The multiverse is holding steady. I’ll alert you if anything changes at all.” Lyla winked at you and disappeared. 

“Realmente necesito cambiar su código.” Miguel grumbled.

“¡Ni se te ocurra!”

Miguel tightened his lips but said nothing. You slid over to sit in front of him and pushed against his chest until he finally relented and sat down in the chair. He didn’t want to admit this, but the only reason he agreed to sit down was because he’d fractured two ribs in the fight, and you pressing against his chest hurt like a bitch.

“Did you really come all this way just to get me to rest?”

“Obviously.” You tossed the sunglasses into his lap along with the extra empanada you’d been carrying around the last half-hour. You hoped it was still warm, but then again, if it weren’t for you he probably wouldn’t have remembered to eat at all. 

The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Gracias.” 

“Solo cállate y come. Lo juro, es como si estuviera tratando de mantener viva una planta de interior. Una planta de interior muy obstinada.”

He tilted his head down, hiding his face as his mask disappeared. 

You held your breath, reaching out instinctively to hold his face in between your hands. Color rushed into his cheeks, emphasizing the dark, purple bruise that crawled its way up from his jawline to his cheek bone, the flesh around it swollen and warm when you carefully traced it with your finger. The bridge of his nose was similarly bruised, the strong slope of his nose tilted ever so slightly to the left. 

Miguel also stopped breathing, the pain hardly registering as he felt your eyes against his skin as physical and real as your hands.

You became all too aware of the closeness, the way he was looking at you. A familiar and malicious voice scratched the back of your mind - What are you to him? Who are you to him? Who is he really thinking about when he looks at you like that?

You let go of his face, your heart sinking in your chest.

“¿Qué te sucedió?” You murmured. His brown-red eyes were wide and soft.

He cleared his throat, disappointment gathering in his chest when you withdrew your hands, “I guess I should have called for backup sooner.” 

“Where else are you hurt?”

“I’m not-”

“Where else are you hurt? Y no te atrevas a mentirme.” 

Miguel melted under your fiery gaze. You weren’t one to show your anger - teaching teenagers had strengthened your patience - but Miguel had a special way of pushing your buttons, whether he knew it or not. 

“I may or may not have cracked a rib… or two.” 

“Miguel!” 

“I’ll heal!” 

“Estúpido, bastardo terco.” You muttered under your breath with no small measure of affection.

You reached over and gently pressed on his stomach, hearing him hiss in pain. He grabbed your arm to get you to stop, shame coloring his bruised cheek.

“I’ll be ok. I promise.” He whispered when you leaned down from your seat to inspect his jaw again. Any longer under your watchful gaze and he might just combust.

“I know you’ll be ok. I just…” Your lips tightened. “I don’t like to see you hurt.”

You’d been in this situation before with Miguel a few times. It always ended with him promising to take better care of himself, holding to that promise for a few weeks, and then falling back into old, self-destructive habits. The others said he had gotten better about taking care of himself ever since you’d come into the picture, but you found that hard to believe. 

“I don’t like to see you hurt either.” He admitted, gently rubbing up and down your forearms. He eyed the tear in your suit, and the clean white bandage that peeked through. 

Who is he really thinking of?

You told that voice to shut up.

“So you can imagine how worried I get when I see you like this.” 

Miguel sighed, running his hands through his hair and mussing up the curls. He could imagine it all too well. Every time you left for your own dimension a knot of worry would sink in his chest like a boulder dropped into a lake, and it wouldn’t dissipate until the next time he saw you safe and whole. He flinched at the very thought of you sporting bruises and cracked bones like the ones he had - the scars he bore after years on the job.

“What would you have me do?” He asked, “I can’t just give this up.” 

“I’m not- No one is asking you to. I know you need to do this. But you don’t have to do it alone. You know any of the other Spider-People would be more than happy to help monitor things in the Spider-Verse.” 

“One - it’s the Arachnoid Humanoid Poly-Multiverse. And two - the other Spider-People aren’t like me. They can’t do what I do.”

“You’re right, they’re a hell of a lot funnier” He scoffed, setting his jaw in a scowl that had pain flaring up the left side of his face. “And they don’t go around punching teenagers.”

“That was one time!” 

Your lips turned in a downward smile, trying to suppress your laughter at the indignant expression on his face. The scowl on his face slowly but surely loosened, twisting into a barely concealed smile.

“Stop doing that.” He muttered.

“Doing what?” You asked innocently.

“Getting me to smile and laugh. It hurts my ribs.” 

“All the more reason to get some rest, Miguel.” You said, ruffling his hair and gleaming with satisfaction when he finally allowed himself to smile. You plucked the sunglasses from his lap and placed them on his face, careful not to upset his healing nose.

How was it possible that he hated and loved the way you said his name so much? He knew you cared for him. The first two months had been tense and filled with questions of what you were to one another - A mistake? A bad memory? Husband and wife? It had been a time when every touch, glance, and hidden smile had been given with a measure of uncertainty and restraint.

Miguel didn’t feel that way anymore. When you messed up his hair and forced his hidden smile out into the open he just saw you. Not some version of his wife. Not someone he’d barely known. Not someone he’d lost. 

Just you.

“If I promise to take the night off to sleep and let Ben and LEGO Peter take care of it, would that satisfy you?” 

You hummed in thought, “How many hours of sleep are we talking about?” 

“Four.” 

“Seven.” You countered.

“Five.” 

“Deal.” You stuck out your hand, a wide grin on your face that Miguel matched when he shook your hand.

“What would I do without you?” He asked sarcastically.

You scoffed, “Shrivel up and die, probably.” 

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________

Author's note: Here's Chapter Four! Y/n is feeling some insecurity about her relationship with Miguel... I wonder if that will come up again in the next chapter 👀...........

As always, please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666@natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies@07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake

[cucumberteapot]

Ugh! I love how so unapologetically punk this film. Obviously, there's Hobie with his battle jacket and electric guitar, and his whole Vibe™ immediately comes to mind, but the subgroups of punk are so deeply entrenched throughout the entire movie.

Like Hobie's style, in particular, reminds me so much of how British punk fashion is accumulating old, worn, even ugly pieces of clothing and turning it into something cool. It's thrift stores. It's hand-me-downs. It's customisations. It's momentos from friends. Maybe even piercings done by friends. It's about taking things from different places and making them your own - which is exactly how Hobie ends up making the dimension travel watch. Another thing is Hobie's blue laces, which I've been told is punk-code for having killed a police officer. We as audience members can go back and forth on whether ATSV is a copaganda film or has its themes, but I believe that tiny detail about Hobie is huge for a film distributed from a country that often values authoritative institutions more than it citizens.

Gwen is implicitly trans and shaves half her head, which is, from my understanding, HUGE for trans women who experience gender dysphoria. A lot of Gwen's fashion and prom dress especially reminds me of Hayley Williams in the late 2000s-early 2010s. It's very experimental, which I feel matches her age and uncertainty about being Spiderwoman, her dad, and Peter's death.

There's also a lot of concept art for Gwen's hair where her side-cut becomes an undercut and she wears it in a pony tail or bun and I just think they're so cool - D especially.

Miles G Morales' design is so heavily inspired by alternative goth fashion and techwear - a mix of combat attire and hip-hop streetwear. It's loose yet slick with it's own customisations in the crown-cut collar and the spray-paint insignia, and incorporates high-advanced technology in the mask.

It's futuristic. A what-could-be. And specifically what Miles could've been if he wasn't bit by the spider. Another cool thing, I don't know if this is related but worth pointing out, is that Prowler wears a modified (leather, bomber, varsity??) jacket. That's kinda crazy for an superhero/anti-hero suit if you think about it. Most of the time you'll see Marvel or DC characters running around in a spandex suit or (for women) almost nothing at all. But like Hobie we see how Miles G styles himself even when he's disguised. Like I wouldn't be surprised if his outfit change was just turning the jacket inside out like a sukajan jacket.

ATSV has so many characters with the own specific styles and it's really nice to see where most franchises are all or nothing when it comes to character design aesthetics.

[zerosconsort]

Zero's Fic Binding - Archive Anthology - Stony Volume 1

A collection of fics all written by Areiton (@areiton)

let me hear (your battle cry) | chains around my daemons | monsters of sea & sky | inspired | muse

Fandom: Marvel

Ship: Steve Rogers / Tony Stark

Start Date: 10/07/24

End Date: 11/25/24

Pages: 355

First Archive Anthology book. This is a collection of 5 of my favorite Arei Stony fics. They are all also from 2021, which I did not mean to do but just so happen to realize as I was typesetting. I wanted to start this proof of concept project with someone who I A) knew and B) would be cool with me using their fics as a test.

So, the cover. She's beautiful. For the AA series, I want the covers to be the uniform - so every Stony book will copy this cover type, but the colors will shift to blue and white for Vol 2, and then back to red and gold for Vol 3. I sketched out the Iron Man that I wanted myself and made an SVG for the first time, leave me alone, adding the swoosh marks to him and to Steve's shield. I wanted a simple, classic looking font for a universal text title. This book series wont have quotes on the back so instead I have a full spread of the graphic. Tony's the icon on the spine this time - and I think he looks great~

Ah! The side shot. I used my guillotine for the first time - so the chop on this bitch is CHRISP. Headband is gold and handstitched. The whole side profile? Crispy like fall leaves.

Title page shots. A TOC (that I only notices was a little low after I had printed both copies) with a new and customized copyright page. I looked at a bunch of pages in the Renegade Bindery discord and compiled something that felt right AND specific to this project going forward.

Typesetting this was not…bad. It did take a while while I worked out fonts and overall ideas, but ones I had them I was able to fly through. There are quite a few here, so lets take a peak...

I kept Let me hear a little simple - with more medieval drop caps and banner headers. This fic is the only one with a nontypical drop caps - but with how simple the titles were I wanted a little bit more. I also - as per my standard - did this fic first, and then started to dig down and get more complicated the further in I got.

Chains has a little more flavor - each chapter has a splash of color. Originally I had hyper detailed headers for this fic, but they just look like SO MUCH, and I couldn't figure out a way to make them look uniform with the different daemons I was showcasing. Scaling back with a flash of color, but not to much, feels much better for this fic. Also realized that I need to figure out how to trim to what my printer considerers a 'full page'.

mos&s has a little more character for the headers, where I pull peace out from each chapter to add to the title. This chapter header - and the last one - are my favorite. I used hand drawn lines to highlight under each chapter title, and pulled a color for the splash image to match with both that line and the matching line breaks in the chapters.

inspired is told from Tony's point of view - so I kept the chapter titles black and white, with harder linework and a focused idea from in each of the chapters.

In contrast, muse is told from Steve's POV - so every chapter header is an explosion of color. They're all based on a variety of art mediums - spray paint, stamp art, charcoal, oil pints, anything I could find that I remember ever doing myself. I also colored each of the drop caps a contrasting color to what the header art is.

All in all, I'm very happy with how this came out. This is the blueprint I'll use for any of my Anthology books going forward. I already have at least three more in mind for Stony specifically, and then a collection of Raven Boys and Good Omens ones that are not long enough to be a book by themselves but I still want THEM ON MY SHELVES.

Thank you again Arei - your wonderful <3 Go read Arei's fics ASAP!

[bullet-prooflove]

5000 Follower Celebration: Field of Daisies - Mitch Ripley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @spaghettificationandpretzels @mini-bee-bee @mandy426 @jareaulamontagnes

Companion piece to:

Seperation!Series:

Marley 2.0 - Mitch doesn't realise your hiding a secret from him.

Not Your Problem - Mitch feels you pulling away from him.

Pill Popping - Mitch confronts LJ about what happened in St Clair.

Not Enough - Mitch realises he won't ever be enough for you after you reveal what happened in St Clair.

Therapy Sessions - Mitch talks through his issues with his counsellor.

Hollow - Mitch returns home to an empty house.

Swings - Mitch steps up when you recieve some life changing news.

Don't Hold Back - You struggle after spending the night with Mitch.

It’s two days later that Mitch turns up on your parent’s doorstep. You answer the door half asleep because you got off shift twelve hours ago and there’s a deep set exhaustion inside of you that has nothing to do with physicality and everything to do with the mess inside your head.

“Put on some sneakers.” He says, tucking his hands into the light blue windbreaker you’re wearing. “We’re going running.”

“You gave up the right to tell me what to do when you served me with separation paperwork.” You remind him, your temple coming to rest on the door and his jaw tenses as he looks down the street for a second.

“I deserved that.” He says before he tilts his head towards you. “But I’ve been where you are right now Marley and it’s a really dark fucking place. Trust me this helps.”

He doesn’t flinch when he meets your gaze and you sigh before you retreat into the house and step into your running shoes before snatching up your jacket, headphones and phone.

“Fine but I’m listening to my Yellowstone playlist.” You tell him as you place the earbuds in your ears.

“Sure.” He says as he takes out his own matching set.

It takes the two of you a second to sync your phones to the Bluetooth before Mitch takes off, leaving you to follow his lead. It’s a new route, one you don’t recognise until you end up running along the lake with Mitch by your side. He’s slowed his step to keep pace with you, his skin is flushed from the exertion and the cold as he draws to a halt underneath the railway bridge.

“I wanted to show you this.” He says as he gestures at the graffiti art sprayed onto the wall.

It’s a Brenda Barnum piece, a mural of white daisies painted onto the concrete amidst yellow and green hues and it makes something inside of you light up the way it always does when you see something of hers.

You’d always been a weird kid, perfect on the surface but with an oddness underneath. You didn’t like the same things as other kids, you liked quirky things, vivid colours and shit that challenged your thinking. There was always a battle to conform and you had because it made life easy but you never really felt like you fit. You’d lived with that feeling for years, thinking there was something wrong with you until you saw one of Brenda Barnum’s paintings and in that moment you realised that you didn’t have to hide yourself, you could be exactly who you wanted to be.

You’d told this to Mitch when you’d taken him to an exhibition in the early stages of the relationship, you’d explained how each painting made you feel like you’d been seen, like someone had taken the thoughts out of your head and committed them to canvas.

When he’d finished renovating the house, he’d put a framed museum print of ‘Purple Firecracker’ on the wall above your bed because he knew how much you loved the piece.

“I know you feel displaced right now.” He tells you as he leans back against the concrete pillar. “That you don’t know which way is up but I thought this could be your anchor point, a reminder of who you are underneath the rest of the shit that’s going on in your head.”

Your chest grows tight as you stare at the colours, the vividness, the complexity and in that moment everything just quietens.

“Thank you.” You say finally because you’ve been on the edge ever since you got your diagnosis and this is the first time you’ve actually allowed yourself to take a breath, to step back from the abyss that threatens to swallow you up.

“I mean it.” You say as you tilt your head towards him and his cheeks start to colour. “Thank you Mitch, for bringing me here, for reminding me I’m stronger than this.”

“You’re the toughest person I know Marley.” He tells you as he pushes off the pillar. “You just needed to find yourself again.”

“Yea.” You say, your gaze straying back to the artwork in front of you. “Yea I did.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[quillpokebiology]

Primarina Facts

(Art by Kantarou)

-The scientific name for Primarina is "Otaria Symphona" which roughly translates to "Symphonic Little-ear"

-Primarina are mustelids, and their closest relatives are Dewgong and Samurott. Surprisingly, this means that they're also related to Pokemon like Skuntank and Furret

-The bubbles that Primarina makes are made from snot and mucus. The explosive ones are made with hydrogen and other gases

-A group of Primarina is called an Opera

-Primarina live in colonies with other members of its line. It's led by a lead Primarina who leads all of their songs

-Every once a month, usually on the full moon, Primarina will perform on beaches. These wre major tourist attractions for anyone visiting the Alola region, and it's popular for wild pokemon too

-Primarina developed their singing abilities as a way to attract mates and to lure in prey. When trying to attract mates, Primarina will gather in large crowds where a Primarina (male or female) will perform a mating call. The Primararina who like the song will then mate them. The same kind of courting is used with Lapras as well, making crossbreeds between the two very common (here's a Lapras crossed with a Primarina!)

-There are old beliefs of Primarina using their voice to lure sailors to their deaths. Despite this being popular in stories, there's no records of this ever happening

-The entire line is Crepescular, meaning they're active at evening and at night

-When courting, male Primarina will give the females gifts like seashells and pearls. Primarina that have mates will carry around said items; sometimes putting them around their naturally occurring pearls as well

-Primarina most often lay their eggs in water beds (place underwater between two objects to make sure something doesn't float away). Popplio have a lot of blubber and will float up while instinctively swimming to the surface for air as well. They'll let their mother know they hatch by giving a unique call

-They're piscovores, so they only eat shells and fish. They'll use their calls to lure in fish mon

-Primarina gained popularity worldwide after the movie, "The Little Primarina," used a Primarina as its protagonist

-Unlike Popplio and Brionne, Primarina have both lungs and gills

-Primarina's hair feels very silky. It's kept clean by natural gels they secrete. It's very thick due to naturally living in the ocean

-Primarina colonies are often matriarchal and lead by a grandma

-Primarina's voice is the most important part of them, and things like battling and communicating are impossible without them. It's important to take care if their voice, like using throat sprays and letting them rest their voices properly after battles

[tf2-plus2]

While I work on finishing at least one of the lore posts before I go to bed because my brain has not wanted to brain today...

Have the original art for Retriever and Assassin (Assassin was actually done first!) Also Wally the good Dutch Shepherd in color! The lineart for these were originally posted on my main @cherry-blxssxm-chaos , and I think I posted Assassin's colored art there too? Either way, finished these in time for me to be redoing them relatively soon so- hah!

[thebluespacecow]

I don't know shit about fuck but i Do know art things. So here are my Arcane hcs if and how they draw.

°'☆*~

It's obvious but Jinx is using cheap crayons that smear her hands, the kinds where when you press just a little hard they will 100% break. She's so Poscas in my brain. It makes sense for her to use paintmarkers, lots of them can go over anything. Big and bright and Fun. Though there's something so distinct in my brain of her going over the lines again and again, be it to fill out any spottienes, or because she just Needs to, something about the repetative motion just doesn't click quite the same with anything that isn't crayons. And of course there's spray pain too, i'm not forgeting the bbg. These are the big statements. No longer just doodles or a complusery need to fill out the blank space.

Vi never got to it. She was, of course, a little kid once, with a bright imagenation she'd share with Powpow to play, and scare, and giggle till they're colapsing into eatchother. So she did draw, she did. But it wasn't comfort, she sought that in other things. So, truly, i can see her only doing crude little doodles when Jinx actualy draws on paper, in the few spare corners that are there. And it's....nice, in a way. It'll be a little monster or a shitty (intentionaly bad, i mean) rendition of whoever's around she can giggle with Jinx about.

Mel is doing oil(paints and pastels!!!! pastels are more for fine fine aditions and long travels). Case closed. Go home folks. She's been doing this since young. Found a type of...solice and fascination in the old masters renditions. I can see Noxus having art as a means of glorifying the endless battle, dying in one. You know how it is. But Mel got good outside of that too. I think her the type to never truly proach portaits, she knows people well enough. It's the nature of Places, how they change, how they Feel, the wind and the sky, how waters curl and fold. It never got to be serious for her? She's dedicated a lot of time to it. Of course. She's been tought by the best. But it's a quiet passion, one she indulges in for herself.

We knowwwww Jayce sketches Viktor in his notebook. No shit that man has careful, steady hands when he needs them. He's an enginear. So i don't think the type of drawing he does is often in the artistic, but he has a control over his movements just as anyone who's worked that part of their brain long enough. So it's easy. And, yeah, Okay, maybe not easy, but when he's more so outside of himself than brainstorming, he'll drift...little curl of hair there....that soft look Viktor gets when he smiles here...and how his hands hold his cane in small, controled lines. He's not messy, he's just A Lot, and his notes reflect how he thinks things over. If Viktor gets i there then what of it?

You throw Anything at Ekko and he's done it. Acrylics? Water color? Guash? Chalk? Pastels(both kinds)? Color pencils? The boring kind(grafite)? Charcoal? Ink? Markers? The child kind? Alchochol markers(adult)? Printing? Yeahhhhhh, he's figured it out. And if he hasn't then he could. We've seen the murals, the wip paingings in AU!Powders hideout. He has a range of skill, eve if we've seen Paint mostly, it's a similar thing with Jayce in my mind. He'd simply find a way in a new medium because he already has an in depth experiance. Of course, it's still Zaun we're talking about, you get what you can, and that only makes me believe more that Ekko will Figure It Out with what he has. His materials aren't reflective of his skill. The kind that he's been building on since being little. It can't take up as much of his time as he'd like, he has a community to care for, but art is still a presance in his life, one which he clearly has a care for.

~'☆*°.

[engulfedbymaleficsaturn]

[artzychic27]

Tell me this doesn’t scream Akuma Class Energy

Caline Bustier’s Rules For Taking Care Of Her Students

If Marinette, Max, and Nathaniel stayed up late working on design/tech/art projects, you are to give them a shot of coffee. Just enough to stay up during class, but not too much to cause anarchy and make it everyone else’s problem

Do not touch Nino’s headphones. If he has a day where he wants to block out the rest of the world and you take his headphones, Alya, Adrien, Kim, and Marinette will make it your problem

There are to be fifteen stim toys in the classroom at all times. FIFTEEN

Do not scream, yell, or play music too loudly around Myléne

The words ‘Unexceptional,’ ‘Stupid,’ ‘Worthless,’ and ‘Disappointment’ are not allowed to be said in the classroom

If Juleka mumbles, she mumbles. Do not even think about getting upset when she yells after you tell her to raise her voice

Monopoly is forbidden, whether in board game or app form. If they insist on playing it, they must have adult supervision. No, M. Monlataing is not adult supervision

Nathaniel is allowed to draw during lessons. That is how he takes notes, and if you take away his note-taking sketchbook, Alix, Juleka, Rose, Marinette, and Marc will follow you home. In addition, there must be visuals when presenting PowerPoints. Some students (Nathaniel for example) are visual learners

Marinette, Chloé, and Lila are not to be left alone together for more than two minutes

Kim is not allowed to go downstairs by himself

Alya is not allowed to go out and record Akuma battles that happen during school hours, lunch, or study hall

Do not send Nathaniel alone to grab extra supplies without some form of supervision. Alix does not count as supervision

Adrien is allowed to eat during class whenever he feels like it

If Rose asks to see the nurse, you let her go

If you are sending any of the girls out of the classroom between 10:00am and 10:15am, make sure Ivan and Kim accompany them

If Adrien and Marinette need to leave during an Akuma attack during schools hours, let them leave, no questions asked

If you’re one of those dress code nuts, Alya cannot help her natural curves, and you have no place to to call her out in the middle of class and claim that her curves are a distraction

If any of them are having a panic attack in the bathroom, screw gender and let their opposite sex friend or significant other help them

If Nathaniel starts yelling in Yiddish, don’t bother or interrupt him. Just don’t.

Spiders are not allowed in the classroom, and do not show images of spiders

Markov is sentient and therefore, shall be treated as a human. If you attempt to confiscate Markov, expect many angry family members

If Adrien sounds British, spray him with water

If Marc Anciel walks into the classroom saying Mme. Mendeleiev needs to speak to Nathaniel, do not let Nathaniel go with him

If Adrien gets called in the middle of a test for a photo shoot, do NOT let him go until he is done with his work. Actually, don’t let him leave during school hours, period

In addition to Rule 24, Nino has a binder with multiple incidents of Gabriel Agreste proving he is unfit to be a parent. If you witness Adrien being abused in any sort of way, please fill out one of the blank incident reports

@msweebyness @imsparky2002

[nardos-primetime]

An Unedited Ramble for my Villain Mikey AU

TW// Death, Toxicity, SH technically, probably some typos and odd paragraph spacing but that's not a TW is it (this was written by a sleepy man who listened to a song and Got insane inspiration and had to get it out)

Probably prior movie after series ends timeline wise, around where things start breaking down. With all the arguments, Mikey's optimism has started to break down. He's noticing every negative, Donnie's even started getting involved in Leo and Raph's arguments, removing his only safe space. It doesn't help that Donnie and Leo both keep acting like they're in any position to give advice on being "better" than the other ones. Hypocritical, acting like you're above the arguments you start just because Raph is older.

Splinter seems to insist they'll level each other out eventually.

Once again everyone's treating him like a naive child. Y'know, in the past he never asked Splinter for help and this is why. 'Incompetent,' the thought breaks into Mikey's head whenever he sees another argument get ignored by his father. He feels like shit right after. How could he ever think that? How could he ever think something so negative?

He turns to his art, gripping pencils and brushes, pressing the tip of spray paint cans down. But his ideas. They're all so…

Wounded. That's all, they're wounded, he can heal them, they just need time, all this darkness will eventually leave him. He turns to training, something he's been avoiding since his brothers have seemed to split up. He starts normally, than for extra flare he adds his extraordinary skill of bending further than he should, twisting and contorting himself as he sends out his nunchucks towards the training dummies that have grown dusty, since who needs a punching bag when you're fighting your brothers?

If they can't man up, he will. He trains himself. Dummies fall, catch on fire. Not a single time do the others notice his time in there, every day there's another slammed train door, another shout. It becomes art to figure out how he can defeat the faux enemies in front of him.

In actual missions he carries the weight. God knows they won't. They're too busy focusing on each other fault of the time he deals with it because they get a hit in. And Donnie and Leo act like it's a positive.

Raph. Judges. Him.

"Your strategies have gotten more… dangerous, but more effective, Michelangelo! When'd you learn that?"

"He's on fire, naturally."

"Are you okay?"

He freaks out at night. The crackling in his hands when he tried to paint has returned, they tremble until he has those nunchucks back in his hands. He's becoming something scary.

He trains it out.

Pushing his body farther and farther. His thoughts of his brothers and father being so selfish turn against him, visions of swinging the flaming chain around their necks and throwing them down turn into him. The chain around his neck. His eyes blur with tears but he still swings and bends and swings and every fucking battle Leo and Donnie argue like it's their achievement and not his. And not a result of them doing the same shit Splinter did, if not worse.

And Raph looks scared.

So he picks his razzmatazz back up, just to feel a little better amongst his violence. A dance step here, a twirl, a flip. It makes it so much more comfortable.

Rpah watches from the corner of the doorway. He doesn't bother getting Mikey's attention. Mikey wouldn't give it to him.

He doesn't deserve it.

Mikey's hands start glowing, they start burning.

He wants to leave.

One day, in the bathroom mirror he sees himself. He thinks he's lost it. He looks so old but happy. His reflection tries to start a conversation, he speaks like he knows Mikey. Like Mikey's supposed to stay here, like anything good has come out of the Hamato family but mask after mask.

He knows what he's going to do without any preparation. He deals with his problem, tears welling in his eyes as he screams, he's finally ranting as he tries to go somewhere else, anywhere else instinctively putting his arms out.

They tried to stop him and something came out. An explosion. The flesh of his arms peel upwards as he stares.

And he laughs. Because it's funny, it's funny how his brain had lost any positive words to say but once they're gone all he can think of is the good. The fake "good" things.

He steps through the portal. His arms covered in blood, his body held together by spite. He should be dead. Some part of him thinks back to his reflection. Maybe he wasn't crazy.

Maybe there's some Michelangelo's out there still lying to themselves. More good for nothing brothers who continuously drop the ball and hit their little brothers square in the chest.

Each fix burns his hands, flesh falls off his arms in chunks. His fingers are completely covered in bloody bandage until it's time for him to do his thing. He can never man up enough to get the Splinters.

He moves swiftly, confidently yet casually. Twisting himself to the edge of what he can handle as he throws himself around, grinning and smiling, almost flaunting like some things he used to know. Showing his strength in an attempt to protect, overstepping the boundaries of universes themselves to protect someone he doesn't even know, like some thing he used to know.

Michelangelo is all grown up. It's too bad his brothers couldn't do the same. It's too bad he had to do it for them. It's too bad he still has to. It's too bad he has them wandering around whenever he's alone. It's too bad that they act like he's done nothing wrong.

"It's too bad none of this matters."

"Right, Mikey?"

"You'll find us next time, Big guy!"

"There's a good bunch out there, you'll find them."

He always was one for imaginary friends.

[alola-reblogging]

Got any team skull headcannons you could maybe write hehe I personally hc the grunts have rap battle night lol

Yes yes yes I have a thousand team skull headcannons omg thanks so much for requesting hehe ♡

• So the majority of team skull are kids who couldn't begin the island challenge and felt left out, or those who attempted the island challenge and gave up.

• Some of the grunts had just came from broken homes, and Guzma sympathised with them and let them stay instantly

• Friends or siblings or cousins of grunts then joined, and the team skull family got bigger

• I mean it's cannon Plumerina sees herself as everyone's big sister, and the grunts go to their big sis with all their problems

• Relationship problems, period pain, battling tips, and to Plums annoyance, to settle the dumbest arguments

• Plums tries her best to support all the kids, and give them 1 on 1 time

• She teaches the grunts life skills, such as battling, type match ups, gives advice on the best move set and so on

• She even teaches the grunts some cooking (not that she's great at it but she's a fairly decent cook), she usually supervises in the kitchen though as there's been more then one eight times incident in the kitchen

• The grunts who have an interest in makeup, Plums teaches them too. All of Alola may be fearful of Team skull but they can't deny their eyeliner is immaculate

• Yeah I can TOTALLY see them doing rap battles lol

• Every Friday night is rap battle night, and all the grunts are welcome to participate, the majority of everyone writes their own raps

• Many of the grunts know how to beat box

• Some of them will rap, others will back up the track beatboxing

• When Guzma joins in all of the grunts get so excited!!

• Both because the boss is in their presence, and because Guzma's sic on the mic

• They have game nights too

• They play loads of different games like Monopoly, Twister, Cludeo, they even play video games too

•It usually ends in boards being flipped, controllers being thrown and someone sulking in the corner

• Of course they have battle nights as well

• I mean, they battle every day, but once a month they'll hold a mini tournament and all battle one another

• It was something Plums came up with to help the grunts grow stronger together

• Spray painting is also a big past time of the grunts

• Most of them just tag places with the skull logo or some anarchy logos

• A few of the grunts are quite artistic about it, and all throughout alola you can see beautiful works of art that most would refuse to believe were created by a member of team skull

• And someone *cough cough guzma* spray painted ACAB on the wall of the police station

• Nanu hasn't bothered to clean it off

• In her spare time, Plumeria likes to watch anime and read manga, she has a secret soft spot for slice of life stuff

• If you mention it though she'll probably crush you.

• She also enjoys watching pokemon battles online from past champion defences or big matches from tournaments, she especially loves watching poison type trainers

• She's got a crush on Raihan from the Hammerlocke gym in the Galar region

• She follows him on social media and has seen all of his matches

• Its a secret dream of hers to battle him

• It's no secret Guzma holds a lot of anger towards Kukui and Kahuna Hala, but there's times where he truly does miss the times when he and Kukui were kids, and would just chill at the beach, eating malasadas and catching pokemon

• He misses Molayne too, and just the three of them doing absolutely nothing but cracking on and having a good time

• He would never admit to anyone, and it pisses him off when he has thoughts like that as he considers them weak and worthless

• Usually when he thinks about his old friends and the fun they had something ends up getting heavily destroyed

• When Guzma recruited Gladion as the enforcer of team skull he offered Gladion to come stay with them in Po Town

• Gladion refused, simply because the grunts annoyed him to point of going insane, and he knew it was best to be alone to get stronger, and he didn't want so many untrustworthy eyes of Null

• Plumeria and Guzma knew he was living rough, and felt bad for the kid, so Guzma fronted Gladion the cash for his motel room

• Gladion insisted on paying Guzma back but he refused to accept the money, stating to Gladion that it was nothing and in return he can back up the grunts when needed and do odd jobs for them

• Gladion was instantly thankful, though he had a difficult time expressing it

• Gladion usually had to defend the grunts against island challengers when they were loosing in battle

• The odd jobs consisted of many things, like stealing supplies from warehouses, finding and catching a specific pokemon, sometimes even doing drop offs for some not so legal products Guzma was selling on the low

• Gladion tried to keep away from Po Town and Team skull whenever he could, but the money was decent and Gladion was desperate

• He knew he had to feed his Pokemon, as well as himself

• He doesn't regret his time in team skull because he knew it was do or die but its not his proudest moment

• Gladion is always invited to game nights or rap battle nights by Plumeria but he always refuses, insisting he's got no time for nonsense with people below his level

• There was this one time he was at the mansion late delivering some stuff he picked up for Guzma, when a tropical rainstorm ensued and the trails was blocked off by mini floods, so he had no choice but to spend a night at the mansion

• It just so happened to he rap battle night

• Gladion hid in a corner watching in utter horror as all of the grunts danced around, spitting bars and blaring music throughout the mansion

• Guzma pushed him to the centre where he utterly froze and refused to participate

• This is where the grunts distsin of him really began, they already didn't like that he refused to live in the mansion and wear the team skull uniform, but they went absolutely mad when their boss paid for a motel for him too

• The grunts were jealous of the favoritism that Guzma showed Gladion, so when the boss himself wanted Gladion to rap and he refused, that was pretty much a death sentence for Gladion in the grunts eyes

• One of the grunt girls have a little thing for Gladion, and they're always overly flirty with him

• Gladion shows her no interest and is extremely uncomfortable with her advances

• She doesn't stop though, and overtime he just becomes irritated

• A lot of the grunts took this offensively that Gladion wasn't interested in their friend, just adding another reason to their hatred

• When the grunts gang up on him, it ends in pokemon battles, although there's been occasions its ended in a fist fight

• Plumeria always tries to keep the peace but even she has been at the blunt end of Gladions sharp tongue in the past

• do you guys remember when gladion called plumeria a whore in the manga omfg

Tysm for this ask it was fun ♡