✨ Story
Damian was lost.
The shortcut behind the skatepark had dissolved into a maze of sludge-slick pavement, busted pallets, and overflowing dumpsters. The city map on his phone buzzed uselessly in his pocket.
He kicked a rusted trash can in frustration. It wobbled. Clanged. Splashed something warm on his shoes. A shadow stirred behind the dumpster.
Out stepped a girl—barefoot, reptilian, and completely unfazed. Her spiked green mohawk glistened with sweat. Her bare soles were cracked and blackened with street rot. Her grin? All fangs.
Snapper: “You just kicked my seat.” Damian: “...You sit in that thing?” Snapper: “I live in it. I nap in it. Sometimes I eat in it. And if I’m lucky…”
(She circles him like a predator.)
Snapper: “I get to stuff punks like you back into it.” Damian: “Okay, look, I didn’t mean to—” Snapper: “You meant to disrespect me with that greasy little foot. So now, I get to disrespect you... with mine!”
Before he could react—WHAM!
Her foot struck his face like a sledgehammer. His body lifted off the ground and crashed spine-first into the trash can, which let out a metallic screech as it crumpled beneath him.
Snapper strutted over to the intact trash can across from him and dropped herself onto it with casual confidence, like it was her personal throne. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, as she locked eyes with Damian—still groaning inside the dented bin she'd launched him into.
Snapper: “Hope you like grime, ‘cause you’re about to get reeeaaal intimate with mine.”
Then, slowly, she lifted both feet and extended them toward him—her bare, meaty soles now hovering inches from his face. The cracked skin was caked with alley filth, toes curling just enough to tease.
She grinned wide, sharp teeth flashing...