#lazy web design | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gezginajans · 11 months ago

Text

Lazy Loading Nedir?

Lazy loading, web geliştirme ve uygulama tasarımında kullanılan bir optimizasyon tekniğidir. Temel olarak, bir web sayfası veya uygulama yalnızca ihtiyaç duyulan kaynakların (görseller, videolar, yazılar gibi) kullanıcı ekranına geldiği zaman yüklenmesini sağlar. Bu yöntem, gereksiz kaynak yüklemelerini önleyerek, sayfa yükleme sürelerini azaltmayı ve kullanıcı deneyimini iyileştirmeyi amaçlar.

Lazy loading, "tembel yükleme" olarak da adlandırılır. Kullanıcılar sayfada ilerledikçe, ekranlarına gelmekte olan içerikler yüklenir. Bu, özellikle büyük boyutlu medya dosyalarının olduğu sayfalarda, yükleme süreçlerini hızlandırır ve kaynak kullanımını optimize eder.

Web Geliştirme ve Yazılım Projelerinde Lazy Loading'in Önemi

Web projelerinde performans, kullanıcı memnuniyetinin ve SEO skorlarının belirleyicisidir. Lazy loading kullanımı, bu performansı doğrudan etkileyerek, arama motorlarında daha üst sıralarda yer almanıza yardımcı olabilir.

Lazy Loading'in Faydaları

Sayfa Yükleme Hızlarının Artırılması

Lazy loading, sayfa yükleme süresini kısaltır. Böylece, kullanıcılar gereksiz bekleme sürelerine maruz kalmaz, sayfa interaktifliği artar. Bu da dolaylı olarak kullanıcıların sitede geçirdiği süreyi ve etkileşimi artırır.

Yükleme Süresi ve Kullanıcı Deneyimi İlişkisi

Sayfa yükleme süresinin kısalması, kullanıcı deneyimini doğrudan etkiler. Kullanıcılar, hızlı yüklenen sitelerde daha fazla zaman geçirme eğilimindedir.

SEO Üzerindeki Etkileri

Google gibi arama motorları, sayfa yükleme hızını bir sıralama faktörü olarak kullanır. Lazy loading, bu hızı artırarak SEO performansınızı destekler.

Bant Genişliği Kullanımının Optimizasyonu

Lazy loading, yalnızca ihtiyaç duyulan kaynakların yüklenmesini sağladığı için, bant genişliği kullanımını azaltır. Bu, özellikle kısıtlı veri planları olan mobil kullanıcılar için büyük bir avantaj sağlar.

Mobil Kullanıcılar için Önemi

Mobil cihazlar, genellikle masaüstü bilgisayarlara kıyasla daha yavaş internet bağlantılarına sahip olabilir. Lazy loading, mobil cihazlarda veri kullanımını ve yükleme sürelerini optimize ederek, kullanıcı deneyimini iyileştirir.

Veri Tasarrufu Sağlama Yolları

Lazy loading, gereksiz veri yüklemelerini engelleyerek, kullanıcıların mobil veri kullanımını azaltır. Bu, özellikle mobil cihaz kullanıcıları için ekonomik bir çözümdür.

Lazy Loading Uygulama Senaryoları

Görsel İçeriklerde Lazy Loading Kullanımı

Web sayfalarında görseller, videolar ve diğer medya içerikleri için lazy loading teknikleri yaygın olarak kullanılır. Özellikle görsel ağırlıklı sitelerde bu teknik, performansı büyük ölçüde iyileştirir.

Resim ve Video Yükleme Stratejileri

Resimler için srcset ve sizes HTML özellikleri ile farklı ekran boyutları için uygun resimler sunulabilir. Videolar için ise, kullanıcıların oynatma tuşuna bastıklarında yüklenmesi sağlanabilir.

Reklam Yönetimi ve Lazy Loading

Reklamların yüklenme zamanını kontrol ederek, kullanıcı deneyimini bozmadan etkili bir reklam stratejisi uygulanabilir. Bu, reklam görüntülemelerini ve tıklanma oranlarını artırabilir.

Reklam Performansını Artırma Yöntemleri

Lazy loading ile reklamlar, kullanıcı sayfayı kullanmaya başladıktan sonra yüklenir. Bu, reklamların görünürlüğünü ve etkileşimini artırarak, reklam gelirlerinde artış sağlar.

Lazy Loading İçin Kullanılan Teknolojiler ve Araçlar

JavaScript ve CSS ile Lazy Loading

JavaScript, web geliştiriciler arasında lazy loading implementasyonu için popüler bir araçtır. JavaScript'in sağladığı esneklik, sayfa içeriklerinin dinamik olarak yüklenmesini kolaylaştırır, böylece sayfa yüklenme süresini ve sunucu üzerindeki yükü azaltır. CSS, görünürlük veya görsel efektlerle birlikte kullanılarak lazy loading sürecini destekler, ancak asıl işlevsellik genellikle JavaScript ile gerçekleştirilir.

Popüler JavaScript Kütüphaneleri

IntersectionObserver API: Bu modern API, bir elementin görünür alan içine girdiğinde tetiklenir. Geliştiriciler, bu API'yi kullanarak, kullanıcının ekranına giren içerikler için yükleme işlemlerini başlatır. Bu, performansı artırırken, gereksiz kaynak yüklemesini önler.

LazySizes: LazySizes, geliştiriciler arasında yaygın olarak kullanılan bir JavaScript kütüphanesidir. Bu kütüphane, resimler, videolar ve iframe'ler için lazy loading sağlar ve çok çeşitli konfigürasyon seçenekleri sunar.

Lozad.js: Hafif bir kütüphane olan Lozad.js, minimal bir yapı sunar ve sadece 5.7kB boyutundadır. Bu, özellikle performansı en üst düzeye çıkarmak isteyen projeler için idealdir.

HTML5 ve Modern Web Standartları

HTML5, lazy loading için doğrudan tarayıcı desteği sunar, böylece geliştiricilerin ek scriptlere ihtiyacı kalmaz. loading="lazy" özelliği, resim ve iframe elementlerine eklenerek, bu elementlerin yalnızca gerekli olduğunda yüklenmesini sağlar. Bu özellik, sayfanın başlangıç yüklenme süresini önemli ölçüde azaltır ve kullanıcı deneyimini iyileştirir.

HTML5 Özellikleri ve Lazy Loading

HTML5'in loading="lazy" özelliği, tarayıcılar tarafından otomatik olarak yönetilen bir lazy loading mekanizmasıdır. Bu özellik sayesinde, geliştiriciler ek bir JavaScript kütüphanesi kullanmadan lazy loading uygulayabilir. Bu, özellikle basit projeler veya minimal script kullanımı gerektiren durumlar için uygundur. Geliştiriciler, bu özelliği kullanarak kaynakların yüklenme sırasını kontrol edebilir ve sayfa performansını artırabilir.

Lazy loading, modern web geliştirme pratiğinde vazgeçilmez bir tekniktir. Kullanıcı deneyimini önemli ölçüde iyileştirirken, sayfa yükleme sürelerini azaltma ve sunucu kaynaklarını daha etkin kullanma gibi önemli avantajlar sağlar. Bu teknik, özellikle görsel ağırlıklı web siteleri, e-ticaret platformları ve içerik yönetim sistemleri gibi kaynak yoğun uygulamalarda kritik bir rol oynar. HTML5'in loading="lazy" gibi modern özellikleri ve JavaScript kütüphaneleri aracılığıyla uygulama imkanları, lazy loading'in her tür web projesinde kolaylıkla ve etkin bir şekilde kullanılmasını sağlar.

Gelişen web teknolojileri ve artan internet kullanımı göz önünde bulundurulduğunda, lazy loading'in önemi daha da artacaktır. Bu teknik, kullanıcıların hızlı ve etkili bir şekilde bilgiye erişimini sağlarken, geliştiricilere de sayfalarını optimize etme ve en iyi kullanıcı deneyimini sunma fırsatı verir. Dolayısıyla, lazy loading, hem bugünün hem de geleceğin web tasarım ve geliştirme dünyasında merkezi bir yer tutmaya devam edecektir.

Bu yazıda lazy loading'in ne olduğunu, nasıl çalıştığını ve web projelerinde nasıl uygulanabileceğini detaylı bir şekilde inceledik. Umarım bu bilgiler, projelerinizde lazy loading tekniklerini daha etkin kullanmanız için size rehberlik eder ve ilham verir.

Sıkça Sorulan Sorular

Lazy Loading Nedir?

Lazy loading, kaynakların yalnızca gerektiğinde yüklenmesini sağlayan bir tekniktir.

Lazy Loading Nasıl Çalışır?

Kullanıcı sayfada ilerledikçe, ekrana gelmekte olan içerikler yüklenir.

Lazy Loading'in Avantajları Nelerdir?

Sayfa yükleme hızını artırır, bant genişliği tasarrufu sağlar ve SEO'yu iyileştirir.

Lazy Loading Hangi Durumlarda Kullanılır?

Büyük medya dosyalarının olduğu veya performansın kritik olduğu web sitelerinde kullanılır.

Lazy Loading'in Dezavantajları Var Mıdır?

Yanlış uygulandığında kullanıcı deneyimini olumsuz etkileyebilir.

Lazy Loading ve SEO İlişkisi Nedir?

Lazy loading, sayfa yükleme hızını artırarak, SEO performansını destekler.

Lazy Loading için Hangi Araçlar Tavsiye Edilir?

IntersectionObserver, LazySizes, ve HTML5'in loading="lazy" özelliği.

Lazy Loading Mobil Uygulamalarda Nasıl Kullanılır?

Mobil uygulamalar için de benzer teknikler ve JavaScript kütüphaneleri kullanılır.

Lazy Loading'i Web Siteme Nasıl Entegre Ederim?

JavaScript kütüphaneleri veya HTML5 özellikleri kullanılarak entegre edilebilir.

Lazy Loading ve Veri Tasarrufu İlişkisi Nedir?

Gereksiz veri yüklemelerini engelleyerek veri kullanımını azaltır.

#lazy loading #seo #web design #blog #gezgin ajans

0 notes

scarluna · 6 months ago

Text

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 1 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

ACT I.

I adjusted my blazer for what felt like the millionth time, catching my reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. It wasn’t like me to fuss over what I was wearing, but this wasn’t just another job. It was Jeon Enterprises, one of the most prestigious companies in the world, and I was walking straight into the lion’s den.

The blazer was professional, fitted just right. At least, I hoped it was. The material hugged my body in ways that made me overly aware of every curve, but I had told myself over and over this morning: You’re here because you’re good at what you do, not because of how you look.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. I stepped onto the executive floor and immediately felt small. Everything screamed luxury. The floors gleamed, the walls were adorned with minimalist art, and the light streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows made the space feel impossibly big.

“Greetings,” the receptionist greeted me with a perfect smile. Her sleek ponytail and impeccable outfit made me feel like I’d rolled out of bed. “Mr. Jeon is expecting you. His office is straight ahead and to the left.”

“Thank you,” I managed to mutter under my braeth, clutching my portfolio like it was a shield.

Every step down the hallway felt heavier than the last. I’d heard the rumors about Jeon Jungkook. Everyone had. The man was a genius, sure, but he was also ruthless, arrogant, and an unapologetic womanizer. He had the kind of power and charm that let him get away with it, too.

I knocked on the massive wooden door at the end of the hallway, my heart pounding like a drum.

“Come in,” came a deep voice from the other side.

I pushed the door open and stepped into a room that felt like the command center of an empire. Jungkook sat behind a sleek glass desk, flipping through a stack of papers. For a second, he didn’t even look up.

When he did, I nearly forgot how to breathe. Okay, Y/N, you got this. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Jungkook looked like trouble in the most devastating way. His jet-black hair was perfectly tousled, his sharp jawline seemed carved from stone, and his dark eyes locked onto mine like they could see right through me. The tattoos peeking out from the collar of his white button-up shirt only added to the effect.

“You’re late,” he said, leaning back in his chair. It was as if he was seeing right through me with his eyes. I felt uneasy.

I blinked. “I… I was told the meeting was at nine.”

“It’s 9:01.” His lips curved into a lazy smirk. “I don’t like people who waste my time.”

I swallowed the sharp reply rising in my throat. Instead, I forced a polite smile. “I’ll be sure to set my watch ahead next time, Mr. Jeon.”

His smirk deepened, and he gestured to the chair across from him. “Have a seat. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I sat down, carefully placing my portfolio on the desk. The tension in the room was suffocating, but I opened the folder and spread out the designs I’d spent days perfecting. “These are the concepts I’ve prepared based on the rebranding brief.”

Jungkook didn’t even glance at the papers right away. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sweeping over me like I was part of the presentation.

“You don’t look like the typical designer we hire,” he said, his tone casual but cutting. His eyes roamed over my blazer, and then focused back to my eyes. I wanted to hide so bad.

My jaw tightened, but I kept my voice steady. “And you don’t look like the typical CEO.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe—but then he laughed. A low, quiet sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Touché,” he said, finally picking up one of the designs.

The silence stretched as he studied my work. My heart was beating so loudly, I was sure he could hear it. This job wasn’t just a step up for me—it was a chance to prove that I belonged here, even if every glance from him made me feel like I didn’t.

“This one’s decent,” he said at last, holding up one of the logos. “But it’s missing… something.”

“What kind of something?” I asked, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“Danger. Boldness. It needs to make people stop and stare.” He set the paper down and leaned back again, his smirk returning. “Think you can deliver that?”

I straightened my shoulders, even as my palms felt sweaty. “I can deliver exactly what you need.”

His smirk widened, but there was something darker behind it now, something that made me feel like he enjoyed the challenge. “We’ll see, Y/N. Welcome to Jeon Enterprises. Try not to disappoint me.”

As I left his office, my hands were still trembling. Jungkook Jeon was everything the rumors said and more—arrogant, sharp, and utterly infuriating. I was here for a week already and this was my first time meeting him. I noticed he didn't introduce himself, and it was probably because he knew the influence he had on others and he was aware that people knew him. Here I was, being delusional that this company was treating their employes with care. How much I was lied to at that damn job interview? I had to get this through. It was my dream job.

Jungkook himself had an intimidating aura. But he wasn’t going to intimidate me. Not yet, anyway.

My first day at Jeon Enterprises started like any other, with a carefully curated outfit and a bundle of nerves. But by noon, I’d already realized that fitting in here would be like trying to squeeze into a size too small—it wasn’t going to happen smoothly.

It began with Tina.

Tina was my direct manager, the person who would oversee my work and, apparently, my every move. I hadn’t been in the bullpen of the design department for five minutes before she sauntered over, heels clicking against the polished floor like a countdown to doom.

“Y/N, right?” she said, her voice oozing faux warmth as her sharp blue eyes scanned me from head to toe.

“Yes, that’s me.” I smiled, trying to come across as approachable.

Tina didn’t return the gesture. Instead, she crossed her arms, her fitted designer dress emphasizing a figure that belonged on a billboard. Her blonde hair was swept into an effortless bun, and her makeup looked flawless, like she’d just stepped out of a high-end commercial.

“Cute,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk. “Well, welcome to the team. I’ll be honest with you—Jeon Enterprises isn’t for everyone. Things move fast here, and we don’t have time to coddle anyone.”

I nodded. “I’m ready to work hard.”

She raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “Good. Because I won’t tolerate sloppy work or excuses. If you can’t keep up, you won’t last long.”

Her words stung, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Understood.”

“Great,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll let you get settled. Just make sure you don’t need too much hand-holding. Mr. Jeon has a thing for perfection, and I’d hate for your mistakes to reflect on me.”

Before I could reply, Tina turned on her heel and strode away, her confidence practically leaving a trail behind her.

A few hours later, I realized that Tina wasn’t just sharp with me—she was sharp with everyone. But when it came to Jungkook, her demeanor shifted.

The first time I saw them interact was during a brief meeting in the design area. Jungkook had stopped by unexpectedly, his presence sucking the air out of the room. Conversations died, heads turned, and people suddenly looked very busy with their screens.

Tina, however, wasn’t fazed.

“Mr. Jeon,” she said, her tone smooth as silk. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, a move that felt almost rehearsed. “What a surprise. Did you come to check on our progress?”

Jungkook barely glanced at her. “Just passing through,” he said, his voice cool and detached.

But Tina wasn’t deterred. She stepped closer, her smile turning brighter. “If you have a moment, I could go over some of the new concepts we’ve been working on. I’d love your input.”

I watched from my desk as Jungkook’s gaze flicked to her, then to the designs she held out like an offering.

“No need,” he said, his tone as dismissive as it was polite. “That’s what I hired you for.”

Tina’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. “Of course. I just want to make sure everything aligns with your vision.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes scanned the room, landing on me. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but I swore there was a flicker of amusement. Then he turned back to Tina.

“Carry on,” he said, already walking away.

Tina’s smile vanished the second he was out of earshot. She tossed the papers onto her desk with a huff, muttering something under her breath that I couldn’t catch.

She caught me watching and raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, newbie?”

“No, just…” I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. “It seems like Mr. Jeon has high expectations.”

Tina snorted, crossing her arms. “High expectations? Please. He’s impossible to please unless it’s on his terms. But don’t get too comfortable, Y/N. He has a way of making even the most confident people feel inadequate.”

Her words felt like a warning, but I couldn’t help but notice the frustration laced with something else—something personal.

She wanted him. That much was obvious. And judging by the way Jungkook hadn’t given her more than a passing glance, it was equally obvious that he didn’t want her.

It wasn’t comforting, exactly, but it did make me wonder: What did Jungkook Jeon want?

I had a feeling I’d find out soon enough.

I left the executive's floor in haze, my head spinning from everything he’d said—and everything he hadn’t said. The moment I stepped out of the elevator and into the main lobby, the weight of the building seemed to come crashing down on me. I had just had my first meeting with him, the infamous Jeon Jungkook.

I couldn’t decide if I should be excited or terrified. Maybe both? I certainly wasn’t expecting him to be so… blunt. But that was Jungkook—no pleasantries, just cold, sharp efficiency wrapped in a dangerously attractive package. He hadn’t even tried to sugarcoat it when he said, “Try not to disappoint me.”

I shook my head, trying to shake off the sting of his words.

I could already feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, the quiet murmur of the office that seemed louder as I made my way through the hallways. I just needed to breathe.

Lunch. I should grab lunch.

But even as the idea of food settled in my mind, the thought of stepping into the cafeteria was daunting. The last thing I wanted was to deal with the cafeteria crowd, with their subtle stares, quiet judgments, and the inevitable whispers.

I paused for a moment outside the cafeteria door, my nerves tightening in my chest. What if people noticed? What if I was the topic of the next office gossip? I wasn’t ready for that.

Sighing, I turned to leave. That’s when I spotted two people standing near the entrance of the cafeteria, chatting quietly.

“Y/N?”

I froze. It was Hoseok, the Marketing Manager Rya, the Social Media Specialist in my Team. They both looked up at me, smiling warmly. I was being trained by Tina during the past week and I hadn't had the chance to meet anyone on my Team, everyone was busy with their job and I was busy not to cry at how dismissive I was being treated by Tina.

“Hey!” Hoseok called out, his voice friendly and easy-going. “Are you coming in? We’ve got a couple of spots open.”

I hesitated. They didn’t look like the typical crowd who’d pay attention to me. But still, my nerves gripped me. I wasn’t ready to be the center of attention.

Rya noticed my unease, her eyes softening as she flashed me an understanding look. “It’s okay. You’re not the only one who gets the cafeteria jitters.”

I let out a soft laugh, though it sounded awkward. “I… I was thinking about just grabbing something quick and heading back to my desk.”

“You’re not getting away that easily,” Hoseok teased, motioning for me to come over. “Trust me, the food here isn’t so bad. And we’re cool. You’ll be fine.”

Something about Hoseok’s warm smile and Rya’s welcoming attitude made the anxiety that had been eating at me for the past few days ease just a little. “Alright, fine. I’ll join you.”

I made my way over to their table, trying not to look at anyone else. The last thing I wanted was to feel like I was on display.

As I sat down, I noticed they were both already halfway through their meals, and the conversation seemed casual, almost like we had known each other for ages. Hoseok leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he gave me a sympathetic look.

“You’re probably wondering what it’s like working here, right?”

I blinked. “A little. I’m still figuring things out.”

“Well, don’t let it get to you,” Hoseok said with a grin. “You’re probably gonna hear a lot of rumors around here, especially about our wonderful boss.”

I froze. My stomach did a flip.

“You’ve probably heard some stories about him, huh?” Rya asked, her voice lighter than I expected.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. A few.” I have heard whispers amongst the other employes at how he had slept with someone from their department and whatnot. How good he was in bed, bla bla bla. It was the usual gossip I tried not to pay attention to.

Rya exchanged a knowing glance with Hoseok before turning her attention back to me. “Well, we’ve worked here long enough to know the truth behind the gossip.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, giving Rya an amused look. “Don’t go spreading too many secrets now, Rya.”

Rya grinned. “Oh, I’m just telling her the truth.”

I couldn’t help but lean in, intrigued. “What’s the truth?”

Rya grinned, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “Well, first of all, Jungkook isn’t as terrifying as people make him out to be.”

“Really?” I said, surprised. “He seemed pretty… intense in our meeting.”

Rya laughed. “He’s definitely intense, that’s for sure. But he’s also complicated. It’s not like he’s always angry or anything. He’s just… cold. Detached. He doesn’t let people get too close.”

“He’s got a reputation for being a heartbreaker,” Hoseok added with a slight roll of his eyes. “And he definitely doesn’t tolerate mistakes. But don’t take it personally. He’s just obsessed with control. It doesn't matter if it's a job related or a person related.”

I let out a slow breath, still processing. “So, all the rumors about him being a womanizer… are those true?”

Hoseok shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “He’s not exactly the type to settle down. But that doesn’t mean he’s out there dating every woman who walks through the door. He’s selective, you could say.”

Rya’s lips twitched, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Selective is an understatement. He doesn’t seem interested in anyone but himself. Though, a certain someone might argue differently…”

I furrowed my brow, not entirely following her meaning. Hoseok picked up on it immediately and chuckled. “Rya’s just a little bitter. She’s been crushing on him for years.”

Rya’s face flushed slightly, but she didn’t back down. “I wouldn’t say crushing. Just admiring from a distance. He’s got this way about him that’s hard to ignore. But trust me, you won’t get anywhere with him. He’s not the type to let anyone in.”

I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. The idea of Jungkook being so emotionally unavailable seemed like a blessing and a curse at the same time.

“But hey, if you can get past his walls,” Hoseok said with a teasing grin, “you might find that he’s not as bad as people think. Just don’t go expecting him to hand out compliments like candy. He’s got a… very unique way of showing he’s impressed.”

“Yeah, by barely acknowledging you, if you’re lucky,” Rya added, her tone dry.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. The tension that had been gripping me finally loosened.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, feeling a bit lighter. “This helps a lot. I didn’t expect such an… honest view of him.”

Hoseok gave me a wink. “We’re here for the truth, Y/N. Don’t worry too much about him. Just do your thing and keep your head down. You’ll be fine.”

Rya smiled warmly. “Exactly. And remember, we’re here if you need anything.”

I smiled back, the warmth of their kindness making my nerves a little easier to handle. Maybe, just maybe, I could survive this place after all.

It had two weeks since I’d joined the team, but it felt like I’d been here forever. Between the pressure of trying to meet everyone’s expectations and dealing with my own insecurities, the past few days had been a blur. But today? Today felt different.

I was sitting at my desk, trying to finalize a design for a new client, when I got an email: Urgent meeting, 2 PM. I glanced at the clock— it was nearly time. The butterflies in my stomach immediately turned into a storm of dread.

I didn’t know what the meeting was about, but something told me it wasn’t going to be good.

By the time I walked into the conference room, my heart was pounding. The entire team was gathered— Tina, Hoseok, Rya, and even some of the higher-ups were sitting around the long conference table. At the head of the table was Jungkook, looking every bit the part of the cold, calculated CEO he was. He barely even looked up as I entered, though the slight tension in the air made it clear something was wrong.

“Y/N, sit,” Tina said, her tone cool as she gestured toward an empty chair. I sat down quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Alright,” Jungkook finally spoke, his voice sharp and commanding. He stood up, moving around the table like he was preparing to give a speech. But his gaze locked on me as he began.

“The client is not happy with the design.” His words felt like a slap to the face. “And do you want to know why?” He didn’t wait for a response, his eyes boring into me. “Because, Y/N, you thought it would be cute to add your little personal touch.” I saw him take the folder I had given to Tina to give to Jungkook. He slammed it on the table which made me flinch.

I felt my face flush as the room fell silent. I knew exactly what he was talking about—the last-minute design changes that had been added against my protests. I had tried to convince Tina not to add them, but she insisted. The change had been pushed through her decision, not mine.

But here I was, in front of everyone, being blamed for something I had no control over.

I opened my mouth to speak, to explain that the changes were not my idea, but Jungkook didn’t give me a chance.

“Look at this,” he continued, “It’s amateur work, Y/N. It’s embarrassing. This,” he said, pointing at the screen, “is what you think a professional design looks like?” His eyes narrowed. “It’s no wonder the client doesn’t want to move forward with us.”

I felt my chest tighten, every word hitting me like a ton of bricks. The weight of his insults pressed down on me, but I stayed quiet. I couldn’t speak.

Then, his voice grew colder, mocking. “And what’s this?” He pointed at the screen again. “You decided to add this ridiculous pattern—what, you thought it would make it look more ‘fun’?”

I wanted to sink into the chair and disappear. The whole room was watching me, waiting for me to respond. But how could I? What could I possibly say when Jungkook was tearing my work—and me—down in front of everyone?

“And don’t get me started on the layout,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s all over the place. I mean, do you even have a vision of beauty?” he paused for a moment, "Because It's obvious you have absolutely no idea how beauty feels like. I mean, look at you. . . " he trailed off.

The words hit like a physical blow. I froze. The way he said it, so casually, made it feel like it was the least important thing to him. But to me? It felt like the world had just fallen apart.

“Maybe if you spent less time making things look good and more time doing your job, we wouldn’t be in this position,” he mocked, his eyes cutting into me. “You really think you deserve to be here?”

I could feel my heart racing, my breath shallow. The sting of his words—those last few—made my entire body feel cold. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

I just sat there, the weight of his words crashing down on me, feeling more exposed than I ever had in my life.

Jungkook turned away, finally seeming to lose interest in me, as he went on to talk about other aspects of the project. But I was no longer listening. The room felt like it was closing in on me.

I couldn’t look at anyone. I didn’t even want to be here anymore. But all I could do was sit in silence, my eyes trained on the table, willing myself not to cry.

The meeting dragged on for what felt like hours, but when it finally ended, I barely heard the chatter around me. I just stood up quietly and walked out, my hands trembling at my sides.

I didn’t know where I was going, but somehow, my feet carried me to the nearest bathroom. I locked myself inside one of the stalls, pressing my back against the door as the tears I had been holding back finally broke free.

I slid down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, the words from the meeting echoing in my head. “You really think you deserve to be here?”

I didn’t know how long I sat there, crying silently, but I couldn’t stop. Every insult, every mocking tone he’d used to tear me down, was running through my mind on repeat.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Y/N? You in there?”

It was Rya’s voice.

I wiped my eyes quickly, trying to get myself together, but it was no use. I couldn’t hide the sobs that kept coming.

“Y/N, let me in,” Rya said, her voice soft but insistent. “It’s okay. Open up.”

I stood up and unlocked the door, only to find Rya standing there, her eyes full of understanding. Without a word, she stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and wrapped her arms around me.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “It’s okay. He’s an asshole. Don’t let him get to you.”

I buried my face in her shoulder, the tears flowing freely now. I didn’t care anymore. I just needed someone to tell me it wasn’t my fault.

“I… I didn’t even want to add those changes,” I whispered between sobs. “It wasn’t my idea. Tina—Tina pushed it. But he—he…” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t bring myself to repeat what he’d said about my weight, about me.

Rya held me tighter. “I know. I know. And it’s not your fault. Tina did that on purpose, and Jungkook? He doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. He’s got his own issues.”

I sniffled and pulled back slightly, wiping my eyes. “But… the way he talked about me—”

“Forget him,” Rya interrupted gently. “He’s an idiot. A rich, spoiled idiot who doesn’t know how to treat people. You’re a damn good designer, Y/N. Don’t let him make you doubt that.”

I nodded, though it didn’t feel like it was enough. My mind was still reeling, but Rya’s words were a small comfort.

“I don’t know if I can go back in there,” I confessed. “I don’t think I can face him again.”

Rya gave me a small smile. “You don’t have to. But when you’re ready, we’ll be here. Just remember, you’ve got this. Don’t let one asshole ruin your day.”

I took a deep breath, nodding slowly. It didn’t fix everything, but it was a start.

Rya squeezed my shoulder before leaving the bathroom, leaving me to gather my thoughts. As I stood there, I realized one thing: Maybe it wasn’t about winning Jungkook’s approval. Maybe it was about not letting him—or anyone else—define my worth.

It had been a long, draining day at the office. My mind was still tangled with the aftermath of the meeting, Jungkook's biting words still echoing in my head. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore—not right now, at least.

“Come on, Y/N. You need a break,” Hoseok said with that signature grin of his as he tugged me away from my desk. “We’re going out for coffee. You’re coming with us.”

“I… I don’t know if I should,” I replied, glancing at the clock. “I still have some work to catch up on.”

“You’ve been working non-stop for hours,” Rya chimed in, appearing by my side. “It’s one coffee. We’ll keep it short. Besides, you deserve it.”

Reluctantly, I grabbed my bag and followed them out of the office. My shoulders were still tense from the meeting, but I figured a little break wouldn’t hurt.

We walked to the nearby café, a cozy little spot that seemed like the perfect place to relax. The warm scent of coffee beans and pastries filled the air as we stepped inside, and I immediately felt my mood shift. I could finally breathe.

“Alright, get whatever you want,” Hoseok said, waving a hand at the menu. “My treat. You need something sweet after today.”

I gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Hoseok. I’ll just get a latte, I think.”

Rya raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure? You’re not gonna go for something stronger? A double shot maybe?”

I laughed nervously. “No, I think a latte is good for now. I don’t need to be jittery today.”

We ordered our drinks, and as we waited for them, I found myself staring out the window, trying to calm my nerves. There was a weight on my chest that I couldn’t shake. The insults from the meeting were still gnawing at me, and it made my hands shake a little.

Hoseok and Rya must have noticed, because they both came to sit beside me with their drinks, offering me a sense of calm just by being there.

“So,” Hoseok started, his voice light, “how are you really doing? After the meeting?”

I sighed and rested my chin on my hand, glancing down at my latte. “I’m fine, I guess. It just… feels like everything is my fault. I didn’t want to change the design like that, but Tina pushed it through, and then Jungkook…”

Rya shook her head. “I told you, don’t take it personally. That was a power play, pure and simple. Tina wants to prove herself that she is the best one in front of Jungkook and Jungkook thrives on making people feel small.”

Hoseok agreed. “Exactly. Actually, now that I think about it, both of them got a way of tearing people down just to get what they want. You’ve just gotta learn to take it with a grain of salt. Jungkook’s an asshole, but he’s not the be-all, end-all."

I nodded, though the pit in my stomach didn’t entirely go away. I had always hated confrontation, and Jungkook's words felt like more than just critique. They felt like personal attacks, especially about my appearance. It was one thing for him to dismiss my design choices, but his mockery had stung in a way I didn’t know how to process. "Now that I think about it, Tina and him are more alike, I am confused he hasn't seen that yet.” Hoseok muttered and Rya slapped him on the shoulder in pure realization. "Holy shit, you are right!" I frowned. Were they actually? I wasn't here long enough to know that for sure.

Before I could respond, Rya spoke out, as if sensing my discomfort. “So, have you heard anything about Tina and her little antics?”

I frowned, looking between Rya and Hoseok. “What do you mean?”

Rya leaned in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Tina’s been all over Jungkook lately. Ever since you started, she’s been trying to get his attention, especially at meetings.”

Hoseok smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “I think we all know what’s going on there. She’s not exactly subtle about it. But Jungkook? He doesn’t seem interested. He’s just… indifferent, which drives her crazy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought they were close.”

Rya snorted. “Close? They’re business partners, that’s all. And Tina’s obsessed with the idea of him.”

Hoseok laughed softly. “He’s too much of a cold fish for that, honestly. I don’t think Tina’s figured that out yet.”

Just as I was about to respond, the door to the café opened, and a tall man stepped inside, scanning the room briefly. I didn’t pay him much attention at first, but then I noticed Hoseok’s eyes narrow and Rya stiffen beside me.

“Uh-oh,” Rya muttered under her breath. “Look who's here.”

Hoseok sighed, shaking his head. “Great. Just what we needed.”

I looked over at them, confused, and then turned to follow their gaze. The man I’d barely noticed at first was now walking toward the counter to order, and I couldn’t help but notice the aura of confidence he exuded—he had a way of moving that made people take notice. He was tall, with brown, disheveled hair and a piercing gaze that didn’t seem to care about anything or anyone. He was the type of guy who could make the world feel like his playground.

“You’re staring,” Hoseok commented, his voice amused.

“I’m not staring,” I muttered, feeling my face heat up. “Who is he?”

“That’s Min Yoongi,” Rya answered, her tone cautious. “He’s Jungkook’s best friend and his right-hand man.”

I blinked, surprised. “Oh? I’ve never seen him around before.”

Rya nodded. “He doesn’t usually come by the office unless something important is going on. But when he does show up, you’ll know.” She gave me a sly look. “He’s a bit of a troublemaker. A playboy. But don’t let that fool you—he’s got a mind like a steel trap.”

Hoseok snorted. “He’s definitely a sly fox, that one. Flirts with anything that moves, but doesn’t really care about anyone’s feelings. Except Jungkook’s, of course. They’re close. Too close, if you ask me.”

As Min Yoongi made his way over to a table near us, his eyes casually flicked over our group, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary on me. His gaze was sharp, but there was something playful in his expression as he took a seat. He didn’t speak to anyone, just settled in with his drink, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the type to draw people in without even trying.

I couldn’t help but feel a little out of place—Yoongi had an air about him that seemed to demand attention, and I was suddenly aware of the fact that I was sitting here, sipping a latte, with two people I barely knew.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Rya warned with a smirk, noticing the direction of my gaze. “He’s not someone you want to get involved with. Trust me.”

I almost choked on my sip. "Are you crazy? That's inapropriate, firstly and secondly . . . he gives off Jungkook's aura so no thanks. Besides, he'd never notice me." I muttered, my shoulders slumped a little. There was something magnetic about him, but I wasn’t sure if it was the kind of attraction I needed to get mixed up in right now.

Hoseok’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Don’t worry. Yoongi doesn’t give a damn about anyone unless they’ve got something to offer him.”

I glanced back at him, still unsure of what to make of the situation. Min Yoongi was definitely intriguing, but not someone I was looking to befriend—especially not with everything going on with Jungkook and Tina.

“Let’s just focus on you for now,” Hoseok said with a wink, nudging me gently. “You’re our priority.”

Rya added, “And remember, we’re here for you. If you ever need anything, just say the word.”

I smiled at them, grateful for their kindness. The world felt a little less heavy with them around. But as I glanced back at Min Yoongi, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

And that was probably just the beginning.

A month later since that fateful coffee break with Hoseok and Rya, and in the days that followed, everything had changed. The office felt colder, the walls seemed to close in tighter, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, even as I kept pushing myself to get through the day.

The worst part? Jungkook hadn’t said a word to me since that horrible meeting. Not a single word of apology, explanation, or even acknowledgment. He continued to pass me in the halls, his eyes cold, his expression distant. It felt as if I was invisible to him now—just a nameless face in the office. I was truly deluding myself that this man actually had morals at all. I was slowly starting to get to terms with that.

Meanwhile, Tina was thriving. Her behavior toward me had grown more insufferable. She’d openly paraded around the office, flaunting her "success" in getting the design changes approved and the "good work" she was supposedly doing with Jungkook. I could see the way she watched him, practically throwing herself at him every chance she got. Jungkook, of course, barely gave her a second glance. I was nor surpised that eventually, after Tina's involvments in my designs, something would happen with me and my position. This woman was jealous of anyone Jungkook paid the slightest attention to and it was pathetic. I was determined to focus on my improvement and work and not let anything distract me.

The office was particularly busy that day. There was a big client meeting happening, and everyone was on edge, scrambling to finish last-minute details. I was still trying to make sense of the mess I’d been handed—new tasks, new responsibilities, but all of them felt like punishment for something I hadn’t even done. I sat at my desk, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure where to begin. Every time I thought about how things had turned out, my stomach twisted.

“You okay?” Rya’s voice startled me, and I looked up to see her standing by my desk, her arms crossed.

I smiled weakly, forcing myself to sit up straight. “Yeah. Just… busy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You’ve barely said anything since the last meeting.” Her tone softened, and she dropped her arms. “You’ve been keeping your voice down, and honestly, it’s a little concerning.”

I sighed, glancing around the office. Everyone was too focused on their work to notice what was going on with me. I had to keep it together. “I’m fine, really. Just… a lot on my plate right now.”

Rya studied me for a moment, clearly not buying it. “Listen, if you need to talk, you know I’m here, right?”

“Thanks, Rya,” I muttered, though I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the full extent of how I was feeling. I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to talk about everything—about Tina, about Yoongi, about Jungkook and how they were all acting like I didn’t even exist.

But before I could say more, there was a knock on the door, and Tina’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“Y/N! You’re needed in the meeting room right now.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t have a good feeling about this. But I forced myself to nod and get up, trying to ignore the flutter of panic in my stomach. As I walked down the hallway toward the meeting room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was coming. Something that I wasn’t prepared for.

When I entered the meeting room, I was met with the usual suspects—Tina, Jungkook, and, to my surprise, Yoongi, who was standing at the front of the room, leaning casually against the table, a smug smile on his face.

“Y/N,” Jungkook said flatly, not even looking up from his laptop. “You’re late. Again.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks flush. I didn’t need another reprimand today.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, observing me for a moment before turning his attention back to the laptop. “Tina, let’s move on,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “We don’t have all day.”

Tina nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Right. So, Y/N, we’ve been looking at the latest design you’ve submitted. It’s… disappointing.”

I blinked. Disappointing?

I swallowed hard. “What? I—what do you mean?”

“We reviewed it carefully.” Tina flipped through a stack of papers on the table, not meeting my eyes. “And frankly, it doesn’t fit with what the client wants. I think you’ve really missed the mark on this one.”

I felt the sting of her words, but something inside me snapped. “That’s not true,” I said, my voice steady despite the growing panic in my chest. “I made the changes based on the client’s feedback. If there’s an issue, it’s with the last-minute adjustments—those weren’t my ideas. I didn’t want to change anything in the first place.” I glanced at Tina, who had her eyes glued to her papers, avoiding my gaze. “But you pushed for it.”

Tina’s eyes flicked to me, but she didn’t respond. Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t look surprised at all. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back, his gaze never leaving me.

“You really think you can blame others for your mistakes?” Yoongi’s voice was calm but laced with sarcasm. “Nice try. But the bottom line is, you didn’t deliver. And that’s on you.”

I froze. This was what was happening? Everyone in the room had already made their decision. I could see the smug satisfaction on Tina’s face, the cold indifference in Jungkook’s eyes, and the subtle amusement in Yoongi’s expression. They were all waiting for me to crack, to fold under the pressure.

But I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

“I did my job,” I said quietly, my voice unwavering. “I did exactly what I was told. If the design didn’t work, it’s because it wasn’t my choice to change it in the first place.”

There was a long pause. Yoongi’s smirk widened, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Tina’s right about one thing,” he said, voice low. “You’re not cut out for this job, Y/N. And after the client’s response, I think it’s time to make a few changes.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was I being fired?

Without giving me a chance to respond, Yoongi stood up. “Effective immediately, I’ll be taking over your responsibilities.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I felt small, helpless, trapped in a situation that seemed to be spiraling beyond my control.

Then, just as I thought the world was closing in on me, Jungkook spoke, his voice cold and distant. “You’ll be working with him now. I’ll make sure you’re briefed on the new tasks later.”

I turned to Jungkook, but he didn’t even look at me. His gaze was focused on his laptop screen again.

I couldn’t breathe. I’d tried. I had really tried to keep my head above water in this toxic office, but now it seemed like it was all slipping through my fingers.

390 notes · View notes

improbable-outset · 1 year ago

Text

📄 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐞:

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐂…

Hey it’s 1am here in the UK and I don’t have a valentine themed fic. So have this set of HC of my AU series that I’ve been working on instead. There is a mix of wholesome and spicy HC. I’m too lazy to put it in an undercut so minors DNI 🔞

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will rant about his day in the lab to you. You love hearing him vent to you if he had a terrible day or ramble about an exciting discovery he had made.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will come home to you from a hard works day in the lab. He likes to rest his head between your thighs while his wife massages his scalp. He melts completely under your tender touch. Your fingers are very soft and soothing.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive small love notes or doodles that are packed with his lunch from his wife. Sometimes even spicy messages if you’re feeling risky. They tend to end with him coming back home and fucking you on the nearest surface. Most likely the couch or kitchen counter top.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a personalised lab coat with his name on it from you, either as a birthday gift or an anniversary present. He now wears it in the lab everyday since.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will involve you when he’s designing gadgets and weapons to be used by the Spider Society. He values your input when brainstorming the prototypes.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have a personal gym right next to his lab where he would work out and train to maintain his strength and combat skills. This includes a high-tech simulation drill that replicate various combat scenarios to aid and enhance his quick thinking and problem solving abilities.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will have his wife watch him work out from the sidelines. You would admire the determination etched on his face. Maybe even steal a quick kiss in between sets. Sometimes you would sit on the rooftops while Miguel would do his usual web slinging endurance, navigating the city skyline from building to building as part of his training.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will fuck you good when he knows he won’t be home for a few days because of a mission in another dimension. He’ll make sure he reaches every crevice deep inside you. You’ll feel a dull ache from the way he stretched out your walls— a reminder of that passionate night and of your husband’s temporary absence. He doesn’t like using toys, he’d rather use his hands and dick do all the work.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that loves to kiss you all over and talk about the function of each part of your body while praising you and telling you how perfect your are. He loves teasing your erogenous areas to increase your serotonin levels and see how much you would fall apart under his touch.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will receive a blow job from you as he tries to explain the make reproductive system OR while he talks about his day at work to you. He’s lucky to have you help him with his pent up stress.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that probably keeps a track of your period. For research, of course. After you got off your birth control pills, it’s his responsibility to track when your fertility window takes place so he can breed you at the right time.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that is over the moon when you both find out that you are finally pregnant. Of course he would admire the changes of your body while you’re growing his child. He will eagerly share insight about the embryonic development and the hormonal changes, deepening the intimate connection you both already share.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will admire the changes of your body and will develop a serious lactation kink. He’ll feed from your breast from time to time…for science obviously. He’s just increasing your oxytocin levels so you can produce more milk for your baby daughter. Duh.

Scientist Husband!Miguel that will help his daughter with her schoolwork. I know he will probably put extra effort when it comes to her school science project and will probably be more committed to it than her. He just wants what’s best for her.

Mood board

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @ultravioletrayz @club-danger-zone @lazyjellyfish300 @miguelbaby @miguels-aranita (lmk if you want to be tagged for this au idea)

- Ayrus <3

1K notes · View notes

crossstitchpatterns · 4 months ago

Text

#cross stitching #pattern #cross stitch pattern #CS & NW April 1997 #Designed by Bette Ashley #Tea- party place mat #Tea pot #tea cups #special stitch #Spider web rose #lazy daisy #japanese leaf stitch #french knot #diagrams included

3 notes · View notes

safination · 1 year ago

Text

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says. “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology. (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means. “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair. His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

. . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light. You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management. You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.” You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

833 notes · View notes