#woooow a full year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dandylovesturtles · 10 months

Text

100 Feet and a World Away is up against New Phone Who Dis in the tmnt separated AU comp and while the poll is a ways away I had this idea and I wanted to write it.

@callmehere-iwillappear I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your kids and I hope you like this!

(“Dandy, where is April?” SHE’S AROUND. Just not here. There were already so many people in this conversation, she’s letting the kids bond okay don’t worry about it.)

———

“And then we all ended up here!” sang the other Mikey, entirely too chipper for the story he had just finished telling, about how the other group of turtles, their opponents for the next round, had been kidnapped ten years ago and raised in captivity. Raph tries not to choke on her ice cream.

After being introduced they’d decided to get ice cream - something the other four had never had before, for reasons that had just been thoroughly explained. The four of them seemed confused by the idea of sitting at a table, so they’re sitting in a group on the floor instead, the three almost mirror images of her friends (her siblings? that is still boggling her mind) leaning against the other Raphael. He’s laying on his stomach, lazily licking from his own bowl with a contented churr deep in his throat.

(It reminds her of how she gets sometimes, when she’s alone, and it makes her sad and unnerved in equal measure.)

“Uh, wow,” says Leon, the first one on their side to react. “That’s quite a story.”

“Mikey makes it sound better than it was,” says the other Leo, with the same humor in his voice that Leon has. He’s the only one who isn’t eating his ice cream, and Raph wonders if he doesn’t like it.

“I wanna hear about you guys, though,” says the other Mikey, bouncing in place. “Where do you live? Who raised you?”

Mike and Othello (Donnie) are still recovering, so again, Leon takes the lead. “Well, we were all raised separately, but I was raised by my dads.”

“Dads!?” gasps the other Mikey, emphasis on the S. “You have more than one!?”

“Yep!” Leon sounds proud about it. “Two whole dads.”

“Woooow… two whole dads,” says the other Mikey with awe. He sounds a little jealous. Maybe Raph is a little jealous, too.

“Why do you need two fathers?” asks the other Donnie, eyes wide like he’s trying to study Leon. So far, he seems the most different from Othello-Donnie (other than her silent double). “Only one male parent is required for reproduction.”

Raph feels the defensive energy roll off Leon before he says anything. “Okay first off, don’t be homophobic.”

The other Donnie stares blankly at him, clearly confused by the sudden snippiness. The other Leo and Mikey look equally confused.

Raph very lightly nudges Leon, and he jolts, pressing his hands to his face.

“…That was a genuine question, wasn’t it?”

Othello snorts. “Did you just call the guy who grew up in a lab homophobic?”

“Shut up! I wasn’t thinking!”

“He’s adopted,” says Mike helpfully. “And his dads are in looove.”

“True, but also, eugh,” says Leon

“Awww, that’s so nice!” says other Mikey. Raph notices he’s finished his ice cream, and completely licked the bowl clean. It’s all over his lips and cheeks, which makes Raph laugh silently to herself.

“Right!?” Mike starts getting excited too - they’re playing off each other’s energies now. “You know, I think my dad should get back in the dating scene, but he always says he’s too busy planning to destroy- er,” Mike glances at the rest of them, then says, “he’s, uh, always busy with work so he can’t.” They trail off with an awkward laugh.

The other Mikey, seeing nothing amiss, starts peppering them with questions, and while he’s doing that, the other Leo quietly swaps his full ice cream bowl for Mikey’s empty one. Ah, so that was the plan.

It’s sweet, but Raph can’t stop herself from speaking up. “You should eat your own ice cream.”

Leo jumps, clearly not expecting to be called out. “Uh, I’m not hungry, so Mikey can have it,” he says.

“Well, you guys haven’t had a lot of sweets, right? Eating too much sugar at once can make you sick.”

She says it to encourage Leo to eat his own, and also because she genuinely doesn’t want this other Mikey to get a stomachache his first time eating ice cream, but the horrified look on Leo’s face makes her feel bad. He snatches the ice cream back, looking at it like it’s poison.

“I wasn’t trying to make him sick,” he says softly.

“Uh, Raph knows you weren’t,” she says quickly, holding up her hands. “It’s not a big deal.”

Still, he looks upset, which is making Mikey upset, which is making the other Raph shuffle behind them with agitation. This isn’t what she meant to happen at all.

It’s Leon who smoothes things over. He’s good at that.

“Geez, Red,” he says, nudging Raph with his shoulder. “You’re the same in real life as you are online, huh?”

She gives him a side-eye. “What do you mean?”

Leon smirks. “A mother hen.”

This makes both Othello and Mike laugh, and the awkward air over the other boys lessens. She just rolls her eyes at Leon but lets it go.

“What’s a mother hen?” asks the other Mikey.

Leon is all too happy to explain. “Means he’s always trying to take care of us. She’s like this online too.”

“Oh,” says Mikey. “Well, why not?” He leans back and bumps his own Raph, who rumbles contentedly. “Raph’s the best big brother ever! It’s the same for you guys, right?”

And that hits her.

Big brother? Is that what she is?

Well, she is the oldest. And the biggest. And if Leon, Mike, and Othello are her siblings, then…

She glances at her friends. None of them are meeting her eyes, and she feels as bashful about it as they look.

They haven’t really talked about it yet. Haven’t put a name to it. But… it’d be nice, she thinks.

Before any of them can think of anything to say, the other Donnie, who seems incapable of reading the mood of any conversation, speaks up first. “I think One should eat ice cream until he can’t. It could be valuable data.”

“Oh, yeah!” cheers Mike, clearly happy with this turn. “Let’s eat ice cream ‘til we puke!”

“Yeah!” cheers Mikey in agreement. “‘Til we puke!”

Mike holds up their hand and Mikey, who only recently learned what a high five is, eagerly returns it.

“No!” snaps Othello, holding out his arms. “If anyone in this group throws up I’m leaving and not coming back!”

“Oh well now we gotta do it,” says Leon, and the conversation erupts once again.

Raph sits back from it all, watching her other self snooze, his brothers tucked against his side, and she wonders if she’ll ever feel like big brother for real.

#100 feet and a world away #new phone who dis #fanfic #rottmnt #tmnt separated au comp

55 notes · View notes

lunawings · 6 months

Text

My Prism Rush Live book finally came!

I am simultaneously both very happy and very disappointed with it.

The badges are a lot bigger than I expected! But the book is thinner...

The first thing you see when you open the book are these pages with all the prism jumps for each character. Which is AMAZING! Because even though I played Prism Rush from start to finish, there is so much art in here I've just never seen before!! WOOOOW!

...But the art is so small...

Next they have a summary of the Prism Rush main story, which is the story that connects the first movie to Pride the Hero. (Note: I've translated this in full here.) Nice.

But then you turn the page to find...

Road to SSS... IN FULL! This is AMAZING! Road to SSS was a series of events that connected Pride the Hero to SSS and was absolutely phenomenal. It was the duo story we always wanted from King of Prism and if I were to recommend you read anything from Prism Rush it would be THIS 100%. I'm so glad they preserved it here and it's no longer lost to time.

Except... that.....

I already spent like two years translating this in full already.

After this you'll find some art from Road to SSS...

Some birthday art...

Some more card art (specifically the DRs)...

And, finally, they included very, VERY brief summaries of the other events and the event KPRs and PRs. Then in the end there is an interview and that's it.

Okay so, when I heard the book was only going to be 100-something pages, I knew in my heart there wasn't going to be anything in there I hadn't translated yet. But still I held out a tiny little bit of hope. Oh well.

#kinpri #honestly i'm not sure if i'll ever get back to translating the other events #i already did the ones i most wanted to do #and i've just been out of it for so long it's hard to get started again #things are very different for me now than when i was unemployed and depressed and just wanted to spent time with my boys #king of prism #prism rush

33 notes · View notes

spiderispunk · 2 years

Text

The Drifter

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Smut [18+]. Handjob. Fingering. Voyeurism (Bruce’s Contacts). Unprotected Sex. Canon-Typical Violence (Mentions of blood and bruises, briefest mention of attempted assault). Complicated Emotions (I like my vigilantes repressed).

Summary: The Batman– or as you would later come to find out Bruce fucking Wayne– came to check up on you later that week. That home visit turned into two, which turned into 10 which turned into many many over the course of the next two years. And the nature of the visits evolved as well. At first, a wellness check, then later something more personal. If you had to put a reason to it, Bruce was lonely. And as it turned out, so were you. It was a big city, after all.

A/N: Woooow did it feel great to write something for the first time in MONTHS. This was definitely a labor of love emphasis on the labor part. I’m ultimately really proud of it, and I hope you all enjoy. Leave a comment if you do!

Wednesday. June 22nd.

You’re lying in bed, eyes trained on your cracked ceiling.

It’s one of those typically dreary Gotham nights. Dark and cold and wet.

Outside a storm rages, sending unforgiving sheets of rain slamming against the dirty concrete. Thunder crashes, the loud booms rattling your windows. Lightning cuts across the sky like the silver flash of a knife.

Each BOOM!, each flare sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always hated thunderstorms– an irrational fear that’s stuck around from childhood– and Gotham seems to have its own perpetual cumulonimbus cloud parked squarely above the city limits.

You find it impossible to sleep on nights like these. When the heavens seem at war with the earth. Caught in a perpetual clash. Perhaps that’s why you don’t mind that these are the nights when Bruce tends to darken your doorstep the most.

You’ve come to appreciate the sporadic visits. They bring an odd sort of comfort and security that you never thought you’d find again in this godforsaken city. Gotham was a cesspool way past expiration, but it was your home. You never minded the grime, the dark back alleys and shady neighbors. Never clutched your pearls in fear when you read the news.

That was until you found yourself held up at gunpoint on your way home from work long ago on a rainy night just like this one. You’d handed your purse over without any argument and kept your head down, just like you’d been taught. The assholes had almost let you go too, until a whispered challenge from their leader had them surrounding you once more.

You closed your eyes and hoped whatever happened would be over quick, but it all ended before it even began. The next sound was the sickening crunch of a jaw as a blow connected with it. Standing over the ringleader was the Dark Knight himself. He pressed the heel of his boot against the guy’s swollen cheek, staring down the other men with hard eyes.

Without their leader, the gang ran.

You were still frozen, blood roaring in your ears as you looked him over. You knew the Batman helped people, but he’d also just broken a man’s jaw with one kick.

“You okay?” He asked in a voice you would eventually learn was not his own.

“Y-yeah,” you answered.

But of course you were not. You were cold and tired and riding off the high of waning adrenaline.

The Batman picked your purse up and handed it to you. It was soaking wet, but otherwise intact and full.

“Thanks.” You sloughed the water off. “Is he gonna be okay?” You glanced down at the unconscious man at your savior’s feet.

He regarded your attacker with a curled lip. “He’ll live,” he said coldly. “Is your home near here?”

“A couple blocks.” You said, though you absolutely should not have told this lethal stranger where you lived.

“I’ll walk you there.” He took off his cape and offered it to you. “This will keep you dry on the way.”

The Batman– or as you would later come to find out Bruce fucking Wayne– came to check up on you later that week. That home visit turned into two, which turned into 10 which turned into many many over the course of the next two years. And the nature of the visits evolved as well. At first, a wellness check, then later something more personal.

If you had to put a reason to it, Bruce was lonely. And as it turned out, so were you.

It was a big city, after all.

There’s a knock on your window. You barely hear it, so lost in your thoughts about the past. Then it happens again, the quiet tap-tap-tap of his knuckles against the glass of your bedroom window that signals his arrival. It’s a miracle you even notice it over the din outside.

He’s crouched on your fire escape, dressed in an oversized jacket and tactical pants. When he pulls back his hood, you can see he’s soaked to the bone. His dark hair is plastered to his face and the black makeup he wears around his eyes runs in streaks down his cheeks.

“Hi,” Bruce says simply. He doesn’t make a move to brush past you. Just sits in the rain, waiting for your invitation.

“Hi,” you whisper. “Come inside before somebody sees you and calls the cops.”

There’s a small smirk on his face. “What would Gotham’s Finest do?”

“Probably nothing.” You step to the side. “They’re too busy with the major crimes. Protecting us regular citizens is more your jurisdiction anyways.”

He grunts in agreement as he climbs through your window. His steel-toed boots hit the floor with a surprisingly light tread. It used to freak you out how quietly he moved, especially in all that armor, but now you’ve sectioned it off in another part of your brain labeled Top Secret Freaky Ninja Shit: Do Not Touch. The less you knew, the better. And Bruce made that clear from the very beginning.

He clears his throat, and you realize you’re still blocking his way into the room. So instead you step to the side and shut the window before any more rain can patter onto the floor. Not that it's of any use. Bruce seems to have brought the whole storm in with him.

“Did I wake you up?” He asks, leaning back against the window sill as he peels off his boots and socks.

You shake your head. “Can’t sleep with all of this.” You gesture vaguely, and on cue thunder booms. It sends a shiver through you.

He cracks a small smile. “Thunderstorms, huh?” Bruce shrugs his jacket off. “Who would have thought?”

“Not all of us can be fearless vigilantes.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t drop that on the floor!” You snap.

Bruce pauses mid motion. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and tosses the jacket back over his arm instead.

“You know where the bathroom is.” You cock your head towards the open door. “Think there might be an extra towel in there too.”

His eyes hold yours for a moment. There’s a touch of…something…soft in those pale blue eyes of his. “Thanks,” he says after a beat of silence and brushes past you.

Bruce peels his shirt off as he goes. Lean muscles stretching taut as his arms stretch above his head to rid himself of the damp cotton. The wet fabric slides up his back and shoulders, revealing a tapestry of injuries. Old ones sealed with jagged scar tissue. Yellowed half-healed bruises, and the most striking of all, fresh, angry red ones, already scabbing over from the night’s adventures.

Whatever he’d gotten into tonight has left him a little worse for wear.

Bruce hides the pain well, though. He doesn’t limp, doesn’t shudder. In fact, when he emerges from your tiny bedroom, he looks like an entirely new man.

His hair is sticking up in all different directions from the towel he hastily dried it with. Most of the paint has been wiped from his face–staining the once white towel he’s tossed onto the floor– but there’s residue left behind under his eyes. His porcelain skin still glistens with cold water, the small droplets dot the sharp lines of his body.

Bruce’s stance is smaller, shoulders hunched as he stands in the middle of your room. He’s softer without all that gear on him, yes, but there’s a hint of something wild in his gaze. Something rigid and tense in his bearing, as if he’s always one wrong move or word away from bolting back out the window.

“You’re staring again,” he mutters, cheeks dusted with red. His voice is so smooth when he’s not hiding behind the mask.

You shake your head and sit on the edge of the bed. “You’re hurt. C’mere.”

“Not really,” Bruce protests, but still crosses the room to stand in front of you.

He shudders when your fingertips touch the skin of his chest, sucks in a deep breath when your hand trails down. Past the existing scars on his chest and stomach, to the puckered line on his hip.

“This one’s new.” You raise your eyebrow at him and he shrugs.

“I didn’t know I had to catalogue my scars with you.”

You press your lips together and narrow your eyes at him. “Someone has to keep track. Tell me about this one.”

“It’s shallow.” He shrugs. “You don’t need to worry.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

You scoff. “That’s not an answer.”

Bruce’s eyes flick to yours. He clenches his jaw slightly, but doesn’t speak.

“You can talk to me…I know how lonely it must be, living a double life.” Your thumb smooths over the mark once more. “I can handle it.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” There’s that goddamn smirk again. He’s deflecting.

“I don’t dress up in tights and an animal costume and run around at night, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He steps closer, gently tilting your chin up so you have to look at him. “No?” The weight of his gaze slides down to your lips.

You shake your head, mouth going dry. “Nothing that exciting.”

“Shame.” Bruce gently nudges your legs apart, crowding your space. “We could’ve traded stories.”

Your hand slips from his stomach down to the waistband of his pants. “Like how you got this scar?” Your fingers play lightly on his skin.

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not until you tell me.”

“You’re demanding.”

“I prefer persistent.” You mold your hand over the crotch of his jeans. “Tenacious. Determined.” You rub at the rigid imprint of his dick. “Assertive. Firm,” you say with a squeeze.

Bruce rocks his hips forward. A quiet groan falls off of his lips.

“So tell me.” You lean forward and brush your lips over the scar. “Was it an armed robbery? A knife fight?”

“No.” He sucks in a choked breath. “I– uh…I was testing some new ah–” He groans when your tongue pokes between your lips to trace his skin. “New equipment. Throwing knives that I made. One ricocheted off the post and nicked me.”

Your lips pause their descent. “What?” Your eyebrows furrow.

“No knife fight or armed robbery. Just regular human error.” His face is flushed scarlet, and you can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or from your touch.

He eyes you warily, unsure if you’ll laugh at him or not. Nervously, Bruce shifts his weight from side to side, the silence making him antsy.

You gaze up at him a second longer, taking in the strangely human side of him presented to you. So rare were these moments of vulnerability. It was hard to believe from his carefully manufactured confidence that he was still new to all of this. Still prone to making mistakes.

Still human buried under all those gadgets and kevlar.

You gently kiss the puckered scar. “Well, your secret’s safe with me.”

His strangled exhale almost sounds like a sigh of relief. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You pop the button of his jeans and slip your hand down the front of them. Bruce sucks in a breath as you mouth at his sculpted muscle. “I’m very good at keeping secrets, you know.” You wrap a hand around his hard cock and stroke slowly.

“Yeah, I know.” His head tips back. “Thanks.”

You watch his blissful expression with a smile, tongue poked between your teeth. “Anytime.” You squeeze him a little tighter, twisting your wrist as you keep up the leisurely pace.

Bruce keeps his hands balled up at his sides, unsure of where to place them. You take one with your free hand and bring it to your jaw. He cradles your chin with an unfamiliar tenderness, and drags his thumb over your mouth.

You part your lips, tongue dipping out to catch his finger. Bruce breathes harshly through his nose, dark eyes somehow growing dimmer. He presses his thumb into your mouth and you suck the sweat from his skin, hands still twisting and pulling at his throbbing cock.

Bruce’s hand falls from your face down your body. He traces a finger down the front of your neck, across the rigid bones of your collar, and further still until he reaches the peaks of your chest. He cups your breast, flicking a thumb over your clothed nipple. They harden under his touch, and you sigh quietly.

He wears a fond smile on his face. There’s something inquisitive in his gaze as he repeats the motion again, garnering the same results. You know he enjoys the effect he has on you and your body. The way his fingers can pinch and pull until you whimper and tremble.

Something in the way his gaze sweeps over your parted lips and lingers on your heaving chest gives you pause.

“You’re still wearing them, aren’t you?” You ask, squinting to see a hint of the plastic.

Bruce tilts his head.

“The contacts.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” He breathes in answer. His eyes slide back to yours. “Do you want me to take them out?”

Your breath catches, thinking about the possibility that he might watch these moments in private later. “No. It’s okay.”

Bruce leans forward, forcing eye contact with you. “Just okay?”

“Are you…going to play it back?”

He wets his bottom lip with his tongue. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I do,” you say quickly. “I want you to watch it. Want you to think of me.”

Bruce pauses for a moment and swallows thickly. He seems to be weighing his next words carefully. “I always think of you.” His hand curls over your shoulder and pushes you back against your mattress.

You push yourself back further onto the bed. Bruce follows, pants hanging low against his hips. He hastily undoes the ties of your sleep shorts and pulls them down and off your legs. You go limp under his searing stare.

Bruce runs his fingers up the inside of your thigh leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plays with the wetness at the crux of your thighs, smearing the evidence of your arousal over his rough fingertips.

You bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan when he lightly swipes his thumb over your clit. He swirls it again, sharp eyes zeroing in on the way your teeth dig imprints into the flesh of your full lips. You lift your hips in search of more sweet pressure.

“Bruce,” you mumble under your breath, and you swear his whole body jerks.

He buries his face into your shoulder, fingers still on your dripping cunt. “Say it again.”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat. Bruce’s thumb continues insistently against you, each swipe jolting through you like electricity from a live wire.

“Say it,” he mumbles low in your ear. “Please.”

Will he hear the desperation in your voice when he watches this again on some lonely night? You don’t know, but you hope so.

You find your voice. “B-Bruce,” you whisper hoarsely.

Bruce moans, teeth digging into your shoulder. “Shit.” Slowly, achingly so, he presses a finger into the velvet heat of your cunt, filling you deliciously.

You arch off of the mattress and into the solid mass of Bruce’s chest. “Oh fuck.”

His finger slides out and pushes back in again, and it’s not long before a second one breaks you even further open to him. He’s removed his head from the junction of your shoulder to stare at you. He catches your every reaction– every quiver of your lips, every flutter of your eyelids, each and every movement collected readily by greedy eyes.

You bite your bottom lip to stifle your loud moans. They spill clumsily into the air and rattle around the small room.

“Don’t,” Bruce says. “I want to hear you.” His fingers curl deliciously inside of you, making your thighs shake.

And who are you to deny such a simple request, when he’s looking at you like this. Equal parts ravenous and reverent. You let yourself go, surrendering every gasp and reedy sigh to his ears, even though it means you won’t ever be able to look your neighbor in the eyes again.

“Just like that,” you praise. “Oh– keep going.”

Bruce flushes scarlet, your words going straight to his aching cock. He rocks back onto his knees, watching his fingers thrust in and out of you.

Soon you feel the tell-tale glow within you. That warm pulse that spreads through your veins like the calm before the storm. Pleasure so close you can almost feel it sharp and light on the tip of your tongue.

“I’m close,” you whine, hips bucking wildly as you chase that high.

“Let go,” Bruce whispers, and with his simple command you’re falling.

You squeeze your eyes closed, lips parting as you sink deeper into bliss. Your limbs tighten and then go limp. And Bruce watches and guides you through it all. His fingers curl slightly, the tips stroking that blessed spot that leaves your brain in fuzzy shambles.

When you finally swim back to the surface, brain still encased in sticky amber, he is there. His eyes dark, like the storm clouds that hover over the city. He takes a deep breath– to steady or to psyche himself up, you don’t know– and suddenly he is kissing you.

A deep kiss. A hungry one. The clumsy slide of his chapped lips against yours. The awkward bump of teeth and a hungry flick of his tongue into the cavern of your mouth. It’s hot. It’s fast. It’s breathtaking. Your sigh is quickly swallowed, the warm slide of his tongue begs for another.

So you give him another…and another…and another…until your shoulders heave from the weight of the stolen breaths and Bruce’s lips leave yours in search of something more.

His hot mouth slides over your damp skin. Tongue swiping out to savor the sweetness of your soap. His hips rut against your thigh, cock straining so hard against his pants that it must hurt.

You’ve never seen him like this. Eager. Wanting. You long to give him that sweet release.

“Fuck me.” You slide a hand between your writhing bodies and squeeze his cock. “Please, Bruce, I need you inside me.”

“Jesus.” His eyes flicker towards the ceiling, jaw clenched and muscles straining. “I don’t have a condom.”

You pull his flushed cock from his pants and guide him between your legs. “I don’t care. I’m clean. You?”

“Y-yeah.” Bruce’s gaze is still turned upwards. “You’re the only one…”

“Look at me, Bruce.”

He does, and feels all of his self-control crumbling under the weight of your desire. And his. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want you just as bad as you seem to want him. Your next words confirm it.

“Please.” You look at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “I want to make you feel good.”

And just as you couldn’t refuse him, he feels helpless against you.

Bruce nods and sinks into you with a stuttered groan of your name. He’s not gentle or slow, and that’s okay. You don’t want that. Such intimacy is reserved for other people, under completely different circumstances. You want him hard and fast and broken, and that’s exactly what he gives you.

He pushes your thighs further apart as he sinks into you over and over, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch of him sends your head reeling. You hold onto him for dear life, scoring fresh red marks into the freckled skin of his shoulder.

The thought of leaving a somewhat permanent mark on his body delights you, and you press your nails deeper into the pale canvas of his back.

Bruce’s hips buck into yours sloppily. His fingers curl around the slats of your headboard, and he uses them as leverage to pound deeper into you. He’s a mess, lost in the warm squeeze of you and beyond words. Only stuttered groans escape his lips.

You do your best to follow his disjointed rhythm with your hips, urging him closer and closer to the edge.

“C-come inside me,” you whimper, and are met with a jagged noise from the back of his throat. “Please, Bruce.”

He says your name through gritted teeth, eyes ablaze with wanton desire. He’s paradoxical– angel and demon rolled into one. Pure and tainted.

In the end it’s a sharp tug of his hair and a kiss to the underside of his jaw that is his undoing. Bruce thrusts sharply, filling you with the warmth of his cum. Shudders wrack his entire body, and he falls on top of you with a soft groan.

You lie under the weight of his body until your breathing syncs up. Until his muscles stop trembling. Until the weight of words unsaid threatens to crush both you and him.

He doesn’t stay with you. He never does. You learned not to take offense long ago. After all, the comfort you both sought didn’t extend to pillow talk and gentle touches.

Bruce slips his half-hard dick out of you with a ticked jaw. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

You squeeze your thighs together, acutely aware of the sticky warmth that seeps out of you. “You don’t need to thank me.”

He gives you a long look, searching for the right thing to say. The aftermath is impossibly awkward. You don’t understand why these moments are the hardest. It really shouldn’t be this tricky.

Bruce hands his used towel to you so you can clean up. Slowly and methodically, he gathers his gear and puts it back on.

“You’re heading back out there?” The rain hasn’t stopped. Actually it seems to have grown worse.

Bruce nods. “I still have another six hours of patrol.”

“Do you ever sleep?”

“Does crime?” He fits his baseball cap back over his head.

You pull your knees to your chest. “I guess not.” But you’re just a man, No matter how many layers you put on, you’ll still be just a man.

Bruce shrugs his backpack back onto his shoulder. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Sooner than I’ll be seeing you,” you say with a small grin.

He returns it. “Maybe. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“Speak for yourself. I’m not the one running around at night dressed like a bat.”

Bruce chuckles. He pulls his hood up and shimmies your window open. “If you need me–”

“Call Gordon. I know. Wait, Bruce!” You call, halting his movements.

He waits, half in the window, half out. What a perfect metaphor for his jumbled place in your life.

You look him over, heart tweaking painfully in your chest. The next time you saw him, he’d be different. “Please be careful.”

“I’ll be alright,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.” Bruce shuts the window and disappears into the night.

You can’t help but notice the warning in his words.

But you’re in far too deep to listen to it.

Tags:

@eupheme

#i'm done! i'm not gonna reread this anymore #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne #the batman #battinson #robert pattinson #rion writes

395 notes · View notes

ruggiethethuggie · 1 year

Text

Under the Mistletoe

Summary: You are hosting a Christmas party at Ramshackle, full of different faces from NRC. Ruggie has a gift for you.

Word Count: 912 tags: fluff, gn!reader, one shot, drabble, not proof read, Ruggie Bucchi x Reader

The chatter of your guests was warm, it wasn’t often that Ramshackle wass full of this many people. It almost felt like all of Night Raven College was attending. You smiled as you looked around the room, seeing your friends and classmates happy and enjoying themselves.

Your raggedy dorm cleaned up nicely, thanks to the help from Ace and Deuce earlier that day. They had been helping you clean up the dusty cobwebs around the place the past few days, coming early today to help decorate. The two of them were funny when they had to work together, you couldn’t help but laugh at them half the time. They argued back and forth about what Christmass tree topper would be used. You chuckled at the sight of two toppers upon your tree as their final decision.

You walked into the kitchen, eyeing the foods laid out as a buffet for your guests. Peppermint bark, sausage balls, charcuterie boards- there were so many different things on the counter. You had asked that the guests bring something for the party, just small finger foods or something easy to make so you didn’t have to do it all yourself. You were impressed by what all they had brought.

“‘Scuse me, just want to put this here,” you heard someone say as they lightly pushed by you to put their food onto the counter. The plate was full of fluffy, little donut holes. An array of different flavors covered the plate by the looks of it. “They look tasty, don’t they? Shishishi,” Ruggie said as you looked at him. “Yes! They do, did you make these yourself?” you asked joyfully. Ruggie gave you a wink. “I don’t tell people my secrets.”

You took one of the powdered donut holes and popped it in your mouth. It was so light, it melted in your mouth almost. “Woooow, that is freaking fantastic,” you said, trying to savor its flavor in your mouth. Ruggie laughed at you as he watched. “Don’t eat them all, everyone else wants some too.” You stuffed your mouth with another, your cheeks looking like a chipmunk’s. “Yeah, well this is my house,” you tried to say.

Ruggie shook his head at you. “Why are you like this?” he asked playfully. You heard Deuce from the other room yelling, but not really able to make out what he was saying. With a confused look on your face, you looked to Ruggie, hoping he had heard Deuce’s words. “He said it’s time to do the presents,” he said as he walked to the archway between the two rooms, gesturing to you to come with him.

Deuce was at the tree, in a Santa costume, playing his part and handing presents to Ace to give to the guests. Ace was basically Santa’s little helper, you could say. You had gotten little things for your friends, small gifts but something to show them how much you appreciated them and their friendships. Ruggie looked around the room as the gifts were distributed. “Nothing in your stocking this year?” he turned and asked you.

“No, no. These are all gifts for everyone else, not for me,” you said with a laugh. Ruggie gave a “hmm” and nodded his head. “I’ll be right back, don’t move,” he politely ordered you. You watched him walk over to the coat rack, fumbling in his coat’s pockets. “AHA,” you heard him say as he pulled a small box out of his coat. He made his way back over to you, being stopped halfway by Ace handing him his gift from you.

“Thank you for the gift,” he said as he handed you the small box. “I got one for you, too.” You were stunned, you didn’t think you were special enough to get a gift from someone. “Wow, thanks Rug. I wasn’t expecting anything,” you said with a smile. He eagerly awaited you to open his gift. You could tell he wanted you to open it by how he looked at you. His ears lightly perked, eyes starry with excitement, his tail lightly swishing behind him.

You slowly opened the box, seeing two shiny earrings inside. They were gorgeous! The earrings were just pearl studs, simple but very elegant. “Rug, these are so nice?! Why would you get me these?” you almost shouted to him in your excitement. “Shishishi, I promise it wasn’t expensive. I know a place with good deals. But it is just something nice, from me to you,” he said with a grin.

You took one of the pearl earrings and held it up, trying to look at it better in the light. Your gaze went past the earring to see the mistletoe hanging in the archway. Ruggie saw your vision move, him looking up to see what caught your eye. You both looked at each other, knowing what the usual tradition is under the decoration.

“Well, uh, that’s something alright,” Ruggie said with a laugh as he looked to you for your reaction. “I mean… it is a Christmas party, I think we kinda have to,” you said shyly. Ruggie’s tail swished behind him again, looking at you with the same starry eyes as before. Without saying a word, he leaned in to kiss you as you met him halfway. His kiss was warm and tender, a better gift he gave to you than the earrings. He pulled away, smiling back at you. “Merry Christmas, [Y/N],” he said cheerily.

#~.twst #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi fanfic #ruggie bucchi #ruggie oneshot #twst drabble

65 notes · View notes

darkcrowprincess · 7 months

Text

Goldenlight week 2023: 💜💛 Day four Human Realm/School

"Trrrrrrrrrrring." Went the school bell, signaling the last class of the day was over. That the school day was finally over. It's Friday and all the students of Gravesfield high school had a whole weekend to look forward to. Anticipation and teenage excitement was relentless in all of the student body. In Luz's class everyone else jumped out of their seats. Some talking to friends while walking out, others grabbing their stuff and bolting out of class. Quickly to leave school behind. Luz wasn't. She was lost in her head and being purposely slow. Stuck in a day dream about this or that. She would have stayed in her daydream, vaguely staring out the window if something hadn't hit her head.

"What?" Says Luz confused, than she notices a paper airplane stuck to her curles. Written on it in neat handwriting was the words "Read me." Next to it a really cute drawing of bird in flight.

Luz turns around to see who threw it, but other than the math teacher packing up their stuff, eerily no one else was here. Luz quickly gathers her stuff, pulling the note out of her hair as she does it. Slipping her blue backpack with stars and little clip on figurines of the good witch Azura she heads outside. No one was waiting outside for her either. So walking mindlessly down the locker strewn hall with out paying attention, she opens and reads the note.

If your not ready to go home yet, come meet me at my secret spot. Go to the school auditorium, and meet me on the stage.

-Hunter.

Luz blinks at this, reads the note again to be sure. "Hunter," hums Luz. Hunter is one of her friends. Though honestly he's her best friend. Though even more honestly the feelings she's has for him are confusing and strange. But not in a bad way. The problem is, well it's hard to explain. No one would probably believe her.

It doesn't take her long to walk to the school auditorium. Opening the big wooden doors, everything is quite. From the long rows of orkastra seats, to the balcony seats above. It's dead silent. 'A ghost town.' Luz laughs at that thought. Walking between the isle she looks up on the stage, where the big red curtains are closed. "Hunter? I'm here?"

Walking up the stairs to the stage, she moves to part the curtains. Something taps her on the back before she can.

"Ahhh!"Luz yells, surprised. She almost trips and falls off the stage if someone didn't grab her. Catching her in his long strong arms. As if doing a salsa dance dip. Luz blinks at not falling and looks up at her savior.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Hunter says with a sheepish smile.

Luz pouts at him, grumpy but still happy to see him. "You need to stop doing that."

Hunter brings her up and out of the dip he has her in, but doesn't let her go. "Can't help it. It's in my nature."

Luz continues to pout at him for a moment or too. Than remembers why she's here.

"I got your note, what did you want to show me?"

Hunter smiles in mischief. He finally lets her go to disappear through the curtains into unknown darkness. Than he sticks a hand out back to her. One finger makes a come here motion. "Do you trust me?

Luz puts her hands on her hips, but can't help but smile, "Despite the present situation, yes." Than she takes his hand, no hesitation at all. Hunter pulls and gives her in darkness. She can't see at all, but him being him, he's use to it. His gold brown eyes glow in the dark. The only light, and leads her to a wall to flick several switches.

Out of the darkness comes soft blue light. Like moonlight. Luz also finally sees why the curtains were closed. To hide what the theater club was painting for this year's musical Aladdin. A dark blue starry night sky sparkles back at Luz. Full of glitter and sparkle, it looks magical in the soft blue stage light.

"Woooow!" Luz says amazed, stars and wonder in her eyes.

"That's not all."

Hunter hits another switch and soft music starts playing. And instrumental theme of "Whole new world," Soon fills the tiny room. Luz turns to him, but before she can say anything,he has her in her arms and in a moment they're floating. A few feet up. Luz holds tight to him. They start to rotate slowly, as if in a slow dance. But Luz still feels safe. Hunter always makes her feel safe. Hunter than brings her even closer. They are almost nose to nose. Hunter with his eyes half lidded and with a hopeful look on his face, "Can I keep you?" Even if Hunter wasn't a ghost, and hadn't been lonely for a long, long time. He still would have asked Luz the same question. Luz says nothing. Just closers her eyes and kisses him. His kiss a little cold, but still solid, firm and real just for a moment.

#the owl house #lunter #huntceda #goldenlight #luz x hunter #goldenluz #my writing #goldenlight week 2023

10 notes · View notes

draiochtnamara · 4 months

Text

posting original fiction work is insane and scary

kelly parents, exploring their relationship to understand kat and forest better

sad domestic bliss, mentions of death/dying/unnamed disease. preemptive mourning.

“Come take a bath with me?”

He isn’t quite sure he hears her correctly, he’s finishing up cleaning the kitchen, closing the dishwasher with his foot and drying his hands on the dish towel. It gets thrown into the corner, missing the open laundry room and ending up somewhere on the floor. Close enough. He doesn’t want to raise his voice, it’s hard enough getting the kids to stay in bed as it is so he stays quiet, turning around and heading out of the kitchen.

It’s not a question she typically asks.

It’s not a question he expects, either.

Just three days ago she was complaining about the size of the tub again. What was her complaint again? Oh. “Forest is almost too big for it at this rate.” Something like that. That had to be an exaggeration. Surely, it was. Forest wasn’t even five yet. He was smaller than Kat was at that age. He wishes he could renovate the bathroom before they had no time left. But they were saving for other things now. Can’t get your wife a garden tub when you’ve got to buy her a coffin.

She’s standing there, foot of the stairs. Towel wrapped around her body. Smaller than she was before. They’ve both agreed not to mention it. One of a few subjects that were now deemed forever off topic. Water was left running in the tub above. She was serious. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Oh in the tub that’s too small for Forest?”

They only had one full bath. So he knew that was the only one she was talking about. She scrunched her nose, “maaaaybe I was exaggerating?” He laughs and she doesn’t. But not in a bad way. She has something else up her sleeve. “So that’s a no..?”

She drops the towel slowly, already (obviously) naked below it. She makes a sound that’s a cross between a sigh and a hmph, and turns to head back up the stairs.

In a motion that’s too quick for her to comprehend, he scoops her and the towel up, and carries her up the stairs. She’s giggling, like they’ve got all the time in the world. He sets her down on the soft rug in the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. Because. Well. The kids. Anything and everything wakes them up. He strips his clothes off and looks at her. She pretends to check him out and whistles.

“Woooow,” she draws it out. Slowly. Like they’ve never been naked together before and like they wouldn’t again. “My lucky day.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He laughs and gets into the tub first. The thing about it too, is that she’s right. It's too small. He can’t lie. He can’t fully stretch his legs in it. Part of the reason why they’ve never done this before. The other part is that, normally, he doesn’t think he’d agree to this. They were both the type to consider bathing a personal solace for a few moments of uninterrupted thought. Once or twice when she first got sick he washed her hair for her. Back before she got used to being tired. Back when they thought maybe they’d get over this. But at this point, borrowed time is borrowed time and he doesn’t know how much longer he’s got to agree to his wife’s schemes. So he goes with it, rolls with the punches, and agrees to shared bathing time. Who wouldn’t in his position?

He holds his hand out to her and she gets in the tub with him. Water already too high. Pouring out over the sides. Whatever. It’s fine. They can dry it later. She sits with her back to his chest. He wraps his arms around her. Once again he can’t help but notice how small she was. People who didn’t know she was dying congratulated her on the weight loss recently. She didn’t need to lose anything. And Mark would’ve liked her at any size versus knowing he wasn’t going to have her at all. She wasn’t ever big to begin with.

On top of that, she doesn’t have much of an appetite these days. Which makes it hard when there’s a four year old who doesn’t want to eat and keeps getting pickier as the days go by and an eight year old who wants nothing but treats for all meals.

What’s the easiest way to say sorry kids, mommy is dying, so she’s allowed to have two spoonfuls of peanut butter for dinner. You have to eat that meal you don’t want? This advice wasn’t in any parenting book.

They’ve both agreed to not mention how much they will miss each other. Juliet said it’s a given. He still wants to say it, though. Because he will. He already does. He doesn’t think he wants to live life without her. She seems to think he’s gonna be able to move on. She’s encouraged it, actually. Says: I hope you find someone nice once I’m not here. The thought makes him sick. But he entertains the idea, for her. If it makes her happy to think he won’t be miserable forever without her, then sure.

The bubble bath she must’ve poured in smells fruity and he assumes it’s one she got for the kids. If they can afford one thing of bubble bath, it’ll be one that everyone can use. Her hair smells like artificial watermelon, and he knows that’s the kids shampoo. They all shared one bathroom so there’s no doubt she accidentally grabbed and used it. He takes a deep breath of it, and then for a second regrets it. Reminds him of Forest and Kat, and then it’ll just be yet another reminder of her once she’s gone. He sighs. As if the kids wouldn’t be reminder enough.

“Maaaark…”

“Hm?”

She turns to face him, water sloshing again. She peers up at him. Biiiiig brown eyes peering at him. Brow furrowed. Nose scrunched.

“I know you’re thinking about it.”

He wants to slip down below the water's surface and is embarrassed that he can’t. Because the tub’s too fucking small. Just like she complained about. It just sucks that she was right. In more ways than one.

He was. He was thinking about how much he would miss her. Was thinking about how even if he had no reminders of her he’d miss her. He thought they had forever.

“How can I not, Jay?”

She adjusts as he tries to sink further into the bathtub. She’s slightly hovering over him now, her face so close to his. Her hair creates a curtain around them. In a world that, at this point, is all their own. And she expects him to, what, just not think about missing her?

“It just makes it harder,” she eventually stutters out, and he just frowns. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t going to have to live with this.

“I’m just gonna fucking miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

He laughs a little. Because how could she? She’d be dead. Even if it turns out there’s a Heaven, she’d be up there probably so entertained she wouldn’t think about him back there on earth. If she got around to missing anyone, surely it’d be the kids. Then maybe.

“I promise, Mark. Even if I’m the first person to accomplish missing someone from the afterlife. I’m gonna miss you, too.”

He cups her face in his hand, and she presses against it, before turning her face to kiss against his palm. His eyes sting, and he’s typically not a crier but this just isn’t fair. This is enough to make him want to fully break down and sob every day but he feels he will have plenty of time for that later. Now he’s got to enjoy. And not take it for granted. Or try.

They sit there together a little bit longer. They don’t talk much, they kiss here and there but eventually she’s feeling tired and so he takes her to bed. For the hell of it, he bridal carries her through their bedroom doorway. He thinks—but does not say—that even if he knew ten years ago that this wouldn’t last forever due to her untimely demise, that he would have still married her. Maybe would have done it sooner. He lays her gently on the bed and helps her change into pajamas and kisses her a few more times. He tries not to think about how he doesn’t know what kiss will be the last.

She lays her head on his chest and he wraps his arm around her and pulls her close. She says all the things she loves him more than until eventually, somewhere between I love you more than sneaking tastes of brownie batter and I love you more than orgasming, she falls asleep.

He kisses the top of her head, gently. “Love you,” he whispers. He lays there and thinks of all the things he loves her more than until he falls asleep too.

He dreams that they are able to finally cure her.

And when he wakes up, it only hurts a bit.

#writing*#echoesverse*#not directly but #mk*#jk*

3 notes · View notes

zimwritez · 1 year

Text

summer stars

WC: 2.1 K

Warnings/BYR: nothing!

A/N: hiii! this is my first story on here! i wanted just to test the waters with some pure fluff (plz read it), but there will be a part two with more suggestive/smut parts! let me know how you like it! <3

After coming in from loading up the moving truck, you stand in front of the off-white house, your eyes wandering over its familiar suburban facade. Memories of your younger years come flooding back as you take in the sight before you. It's been years since you last saw this house, before you left for college. As you take in your surroundings, you realize that you had almost forgotten its shape.

Stepping inside, you're greeted by the scent of roses that fills the air. Your mom has always been obsessed with these flowers, ever since you were a little girl. The scent is so familiar that every time you catch a whiff of it outside your house, you're hit with an odd sense of deja vu. But here, inside the house, the fragrance is overwhelming, as if it has been bottled up and released into the air. The living room is cluttered with boxes of all shapes and sizes, piled high in every corner. The cardboard smell of the boxes mingles with the sweet scent of roses, creating a strange, yet comforting aroma.

You had to come back home, out of the city, because of your dad’s hospitalization. Your mom has to move full time near the hospital because of your dad’s permanent residence there. He’s always had health problems, but they haven’t been this serious until now. You'll be spending the summer here too, in case anything happens.

As you move through the house, you notice how much has changed since you left for college. The furniture is different, the wallpaper has been replaced, and there are new curtains hanging in the windows. You step into your childhood bedroom, and even though the rest of the house is changed, this room seems to be stuck in time. The posters are still on the wall, the bed is still perfectly made, and the air seems still. You scan the picture frames on your dresser, each one holding a memory of days gone by. They're snapshots of a time when life was simpler, when your high school friends and you would spend hours laughing and making memories. The faces staring back at you are those of friends you barely even see anymore, people you once considered your closest allies. In the years since you graduated and parted ways for college, time has lapsed and made it difficult to stay in touch. It's a bittersweet feeling, realizing how easily life can pull people apart.

You focus on one particular picture, a small frame holding a picture of you and a boy around the age of six. You squint your eyes and furrow your eyebrows, trying to remember who he is. The picture is a bit faded, the edges of the frame worn and chipped with age.

Suddenly, it all comes back to you. It’s the boy that you live next door to. You were friends up until middle school when he randomly transferred to online school. Somehow, you can’t remember his name. It may have started with a K? A C? You're not too sure.

You hear your mother calling your name from downstairs. Sluggishly walking down the stairs, you see another slightly older woman standing in the kitchen. She’s wearing a pink, knitted sweater, which is odd because it’s so hot outside. She wears a genuine smile on her face, too.

“Oh, Hello Ma’am.” “Woooow~ You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman!”

You stutter for a moment, trying to remember if you’ve seen this lady before. She barely looks familiar. Thankfully, after almost a full minute of silence, your mom chimes in.

“This is Mrs. Ji, from next door. She’s going to be helping you out if you need anything while I’m gone helping your dad.”

It all clicks in your head. This must be the mom for the boy from before. You speak,

“Oh, thank you so much! I doubt I will need much, but it’s nice to know I have someone to lean on!”

“Yes..You must remember my son, right? Changmin? He’s home for the summer too!”

Bingo.

“Oh that’s nice, I’ll have to say hi sometime.”

There’s a silent agreement as your mom whisks you away to continue moving boxes into the U-Haul, you take a moment to look around the house that you once called home. Despite the bittersweet feeling of having to help your mom leave, you push aside your emotions and focus on the task at hand. You diligently continue packing boxes and loading them onto the U-Haul, trying to make the move as smooth as possible.

Hours pass by as you work tirelessly to finish packing up your belongings. You finally reach the end of the moving process, but you're left with only the bare necessities in your temporary home. The house won't be sold until you go back to college for the next fall semester, so you'll be staying in this old place for the next couple of months.

As you say your last goodbye to your mom and watch her drive away, you take a deep breath and feel a mix of emotions wash over you. Relief that the move is over, sadness that you're leaving your childhood home, and excitement for the new chapter of your life that lies ahead.

After, you decide to take some time for yourself and settle into the new house. You turn on a movie and make some popcorn, enjoying the familiar comfort of an old favorite. As you sit on the couch, you realize that even though this house is new and unfamiliar, it's slowly becoming a home.

When looking at the clock that reads 11:58, you start to drift off, getting sleepier and sleepier as the night goes on. Just then, you hear a quiet knock at your door. Scared and confused, you move towards the blinds to look outside, but you can’t see anything since it’s so dark. You were contemplating opening the door when you hear a whispered voice call out your first name, followed by the words,

“It’s Changmin! Open the door!”

Even more confused, you gently crack open the door, and finally get a look at the boy that you haven’t seen throughout all of these years…and he’s beautiful! A small tipped nose, cute round eyes and an oddly long neck, you stare in awed silence as you admire who’s in front of you, pushing the confusion aside.

“Uhh…Earth to Y/N?”

You snap back to reality, focusing your eyes on his slightly concerned expression. You finally speak,

“Sorry. What did you need? Was I being too loud?”

He thinks for a moment, and continues,

“No, It’s not that. Um..” He stalls. “Do you maybe wanna go somewhere?”

Confused, you ask,

“What do you mean?” “Like right now, we can go somewhere and talk. I know a spot and I’m bored and I really need some fresh air.”

As you hear the poor boy stumble over his words, you can sense his nervousness. Without a second thought, you compassionately say yes and quickly put on your shoes. As you step out of the door, you feel the cold nighttime wind hit your skin, bringing back memories of sneaking out as a freshman in high school. You can't help but feel a sense of childhood mystery in the air that used to be filled with overworked tiredness. Tonight feels different.

You take a look at the tall boy who is kicking rocks with his worn-out Converse as he walks. He seems to be focused on nothing but the ground, lost in thought. You notice his slightly sparkling brown eyes and hair that's tinted differently due to the orange-colored street lights. You feel a sudden urge to know more about him and say,

“So…”

“Ah, sorry…I don’t talk much”

“Yeah, you aren’t really like the kid I remembered you to be. You used to scream bloody murder all the time, scaring every parent around. You smiled all the time too.”

“Hey! I smile now, you just haven’t made me do that yet”.

“Oh…I see…That’s my job?”

Flustered, he spurts, “No! I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just trying to show how I’m a positive person”.

You both quietly laugh as you hear cicadas in the background, really exemplifying the mood of summer. It gets quiet again though, between the two of you that is, and after a few minutes, he speaks.

“I’m sorry about your dad”.

A little stunned with such a dark topic, you continue, “Oh…It’s okay. It’s always been like this”

“Yeah, I remember. It’s just gotten worse, and I feel bad”

“What do you have to feel bad for? You’re the one that got him sick or something?”

He almost gets offended, but laughs again. “No-no, I just want to make sure everyone’s okay”.

As the conversation between you and him continues, you can't help but feel a sweet yet slightly awkward vibe. It's strange to see someone who you haven't seen in years, especially since so much has changed within that time. You find yourself staring at him, trying to see if there's any trace of the person you knew all those years ago.

You remember the last time you saw him, and how different things were back then. The way he spoke, his mannerisms, and his interests all seem different now. However, despite the changes, you're grateful that he's turned out to be a decently good guy. For some reason, it gives you a sense of satisfaction.

“Oh here, this is what I wanted you to see”

He reaches for your hand and pulls you through a small section of woods, where you come out to see an amazing view. You’re at “The Cliffs”, the town's high point. You can see everyone and everything from up here, and the sunsets are beautiful. Right now, though, you see hundreds of lights, some of them shutting off as the people of the town go to sleep. It’s always been a place that’s tender to your heart, because you spent it with…

“Do you remember?”

You stall for a moment, frozen in your tracks. This is the place where you spent many nights with Changmin, sneaking out of your parents house to go watch the sunset. You would talk about childish things, and it always made you two feel closer.

“Of course I do. Thank you so much for bringing me here, again”.

He smiles shyly, looking out towards the horizon and taking a seat on a rocky edge. You can’t tell if it’s just you, but there’s so much energy to get to know him, or eachother. It’s like you want to make up all the time that you lost.

“So why did you disappear when highschool started?”

He looks up at you with those big brown eyes, that are slightly illuminated by the moonlight. He murmurs around for a minute, and speaks,

“Oh, It’s just because I didn’t really like school. The days started to drag in middle school and you were one of the only reasons why I went everyday. The bullying was bad so I just decided to drop it.”

You had known about the bullying before, and how bad it affected Changmin, but you can’t really change much now so there’s nothing to say. What shocked you was what he said before that. The way he said it so matter of factly was so shocking. He said it as if wanting to see you everyday was a normal thing, which you guess it was. You two were friends, and who wouldn’t want to see their best friend everyday, right?

“That’s nice…I mean! It’s not nice that you were getting bullied, it was nice that you felt comfortable enough to drop school.”

He laughs at your embarrassed expression. “It’s okay. Was it lonely without me?”

Sarcastically, you speak, “Oh my god, it was unbearable. The worst torture I’ve been through in my whole life.” You both laugh.

The silence was back, but it wasn't awkward anymore. It was like a giant wave of calmness washed over us, making everything right. The air was filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions, but it was a peaceful silence that we both welcomed.

Changmin's nervousness melted away and was replaced with a feeling of security and comfort. You could feel the trust he had in you, like he knew that he could open up to you about anything without any fear of judgment. You felt a sense of responsibility, but also gratefulness for having him in your life.

Sitting there under the stars, you both knew that this moment would change everything. It felt like the entire summer was full of new possibilities and a chance for a deeper connection between you two. The future felt uncertain, but there was an unspoken promise that hung in the air, luring you to take a leap into the unknown.

#the boyz #tbz #tbz scenarios #tbz q #tbz changmin #kpop #changmin #q #q tbz #tbz kpop #tbz fluff

13 notes · View notes

mermaidsirennikita · 11 months

Note

can you recommend any American historical romance novels (not like…Westerns, I’m thinking more like….Vanderbilt, Edwardian era, if that makes sense?) bc I have such a hard time finding them but I think you’ve recommended a few once upon a time

Yeah, for sure!

What I think you're looking for especially is the Gilded Age, which was that amazing time when New York City was the center of the universe, everyone was spending money left and right, there was a very exclusive, unofficial club called "the Four Hundred", which was predicated on this concept (proposed by a Southerner, not a New Yorker) that there were really only 400 truly fashionable people in the city. Orgies were had, horses were brought into ballrooms. It was LUXE.

The reigning queen of Gilded Age romance is for sure Joanna Shupe, one of my all-time favorite romance novelists. Her first three historicals are traditional England books (and they're very good) but since then, aside from a few novellas here and there, she pretty much exclusively writes Gilded Age. I have not read all of them, but only because I've been saving some of her backlist (and good thing, because she's taking this year off from full-length historicals).

I've read and would recommend:

Magnate--this is the first full book in her Knickerbocker Club series, which is basically four dudes doing mean rich man shit in various industries while getting kicked in the balls by love. The hero is a self-made man who ends up compromising the sister of one of the other guys in the club, and the beef is REAL between these dudes. Anyway, heroine is kind of okay with marrying him until she overhears at the wedding!!! That her brother basically forced the marriage. And then she's all HONEYMOON'S OVER!!! I DEMAND AN ANNULMENT!!!! It's not super complicated, but I found it really engaging and romantic.

Also, the heroine is delightfully dickmatized. There's a scene where the hero is like "I have these scars on my back because when I worked in a factory I got hit by a giant falling pipe, but the pipe was only falling because I did shitty work in an effort to get off the clock quickly and run to my favorite brothel". And she's like "oh. You POOR man!!!"

Uptown Girls--A trilogy about three sisters whose father is rich and one of the most influential people in New York Society.

First book is eldest daughter/daddy's lawyer (fixer) who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks; second is middle daughter/casino owner she asks to mentor her in running a casino, and he's like "sure" when really he wants REVEEEENGE upon her father; third book is youngest daughter (goody two shoes)/gangster who finds himself completely gut punched by her.

Fifth Avenue Rebels--A four-book series about a cluster of people (human disasters) falling in love. The first book takes place at a house party in Newport wherein shit goes the fuck down, and a lot of what spins out afterwards can be linked back to the party.

First book is childhood friends to lovers after the hero realizes said friend is about to get engaged to a handsome, absolute 10/10 (completely broke) duke; second book is a seduction lessons book in which the sluttiest guy in the series agrees to teach the shyest girl how to be hot in exchange for recipes from her chef so that he can start a supper club and become a real boy; third book is an enemies to lovers "oops we hooked up" book about a ruthless businessman and the woman who thought they were gonna get arranged married, but he's like "no" and she's like "WOOOOW" but then they hook up at a masked sex party that was in fact a real Gilded Age event; fourth book lets us know that stuffy 10/10 perfect duke actually likes it rough and has been having a back and forth with the wild child girl of the group, and now they're in an enemies to lovers dance that is sure to leave both of them CRUSHED.

She has another full Gilded Age series, the Four Hundred, but I've been saving that. Will probs read soon.

Harper St. George writes Gilded Age as well. Haven't read, will read, have heard good things about it.

Beverly Jenkins does write westerns, but she also writes Reconstruction books, and really hits a lot of different parts of America and time periods. I would recommend trying To Catch A Raven, a heist book she has wherein the leads have to pretend to be married to like? Steal back the Declaration of Independence? And of course, there's the classic Indigo, wherein the heroine works in the Underground Railroad and meets the hero right after he's had the shit beaten out of him. She nurses him back to health, he turns out to be a total rake type, and they have this long, epic, angsty love story. Deals a lot with the subject of slavery, so heads up, but I find it absolutely gorgeous.

#romance novel blogging #book recs

8 notes · View notes

transmalewife · 2 years

Text

I think the correct way to experience master and margarita is as an 11 year old raised atheist not yet burned out gifted child so your only take away is holy shit a talking cat! woooow naked redheads flying on broomsticks!! I wanna go to a ball full of creatures too thats so cool!!

you can reread it for the political and religious themes once you're old enough to get them but this is a book that should be first experienced with a child's glee and imagination

#mine.#master and margarita #i remember the first time i read it being like ugh jesus is so boring wheres my beloved małgosia #i need to reread it again to be clear i have read it since then but its so good

87 notes · View notes

m0use123 · 1 year

Text

The smell of cooking meat, made Korra's mouth water.

"Hmm, I love it when your mum comes to visit" Korra smiled dreamily up at her taller girlfriend.

Asami just giggled and wrapped her arm around Korra's shoulders, she kissed her temple and whispered, "my mum loves to cook for anyone who appreciates her hard work".

"Where I come from, the cook is always appreciated" Korra said cheerfully as she started to hurry through their home, and into the kitchen.

- - - - - -

Korra hurried over to her girlfriend's mother and hopped up onto the next free space of countertop.

"Mmmm, smells great Mrs S" Korra said as she inhaled extravagantly.

Yasuko laughed happily, "I'm glad you think so Korra dear, Asami's always telling me how much you like your food, I can finally see whether it's true or not".

Korra nodded her head happily. "Ow, definitely. My foster mum pema, is an amazing cook, I definitely learn my appreciation for food from her".

- - - - - -

Korra moaned her approval, with her mouth full of Yasuko's delicious roast.

"Ow sweet Raava. This is amazing Mrs S".

Asami smiled at her girlfriend, then looked at her mother, "Korra's right Mum, this is amazing".

"I'm glad girls, now, what are you two planning on doing today"? She asked as she took Korra's finished plate and getting her second helpings.

"Asami's taking me into town" Korra pipped up as she sat up, eagerly awaiting her roast beef.

"Oh? What shops"? Yasuko asked, stroking Asami's hair.

"THE TOY SHOP"! Korra squealed excitedly bouncing slightly where she sat.

Yasuko and Asami smiled endulgently at the younger woman.

- - - - - -

"Come on Sami .... let's gooooooo"! Korra yelled as she unclasped their hands as she ran off into the busy toy shop.

Asami giggled as she patiently followed her hyper girlfriend.

- - - - - -

"Woooow, Sami look, they've got the new remote control SatoTruck you've been working on, this is sooooooo cool" Korra said happily as she continued to pull Asami around the shop.

- - - - - -

"So, we've been round this whole shop, do you know what you might like"? Asami asked her patiently.

Korra shook her head glumly.

"What's wrong Sweetheart"?

"I can't decide which one I want the most" Korra pouted.

Asami hummed, she rested their foreheads together and whispered, "well it's a good job there's no toy limit on this trip huh"?

"Really? You mean it"? Korra squealed excitedly.

"You betch'a. Now go on, go pick" Asami said.

She smiled as Korra sprinted off with their trolley, as happy as a kid in a .... well.... a toy shop.

- - - - - -

The house was filled with the sounds of childish giggles.

Asami has never seen her girlfriend so happy.

"Sami"? Korra asked anxiously as she approached the relaxing Sato women.

"What's up Baby"?

"My PlatypusBear's broken" Korra pouted, handing over the interactive toy.

"What's wrong with it"? Asami asked as she examined the action figure.

"The voice controlled feature stop working" Korra huffed as she dropped unceremoniously onto her girlfriend's lap.

Giggling Asami hugged her from behind, "how am I supposed to fix your toy if you're sitting on my lap"?

"Your a genius right? Figure it out" Korra teased.

Asami rolled her eyes and set to work.

- - - - - -

"PlatypusBear, dance" Asami commanded.

The toy's eyes glowed as it broke into a brake dancing routine.

"Yayyyy" Korra squealed.

She jumped to her feet and started to dance along with the toy.

"She adores you" Yasuko said, smiling at her daughter.

"The feeling's mutual" Asami smiled.

"Well you know, when you're ready, I have your Grandma's ring".

"Thanks Mum" Asami smiled as they snuggled up together on the sofa.

- - - - - -

A year later.

"Korra. Baby. You make me so happy, and I want to make you happy for the rest of our lives". Asami knelt infront of her tearful girlfriend. "Korra Waters..... will you marry me"?

She revealed a small box, showing the other girl an exquisite engagement ring, set with the largest sapphire Korra has ever seen.

"Yes" she whispered through her tears. "Yes Sami, of course I'll marry you".

"I love you baby" Asami whispered into korra's ear, before kissing her softly on the lips.

..... and they lived happily ever after ......

~ Fin ~

#legend of korra #korrasami #toystore #engage kiss #i love them

19 notes · View notes

maddie-van-fleet · 1 year

Text

Love Through The Lens

--------------------------------November 29-------------------------------

**Edited by @pictures-of-time **

Multiple part series// this will contain graphic scenes, so it is 18+, MINORS DNI.

I did make a playlist for this series, feel free to listen along while you read :) i hope y'all enjoy it!! I, also, will be linking the master list to every chapter, once I get it made! The first few chapters are really short but i promise they will be longer from this point! I just needed the backstory laid out first.

note: this is my first full series story, so i do apologize if it isn't the best! I have pre written a few chapters so that i am able to post the first couple chapters, since they're short! I will get more drafted up over the next few days, so i can post asap! Please let me know what you think, as i am always trying to improve.

Summary: It was always your dream to be a concert photographer, and you had finally landed yourself a reputable status as a freelancer. Life, though, takes a turn when you land a job for Greta. The plan was to do the job, in and out, nothing more, but things get quite complicated when you start to develop feelings for a certain guitarist.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

You had known the boys since you were children. Your days in elementary school were spent playing games in the woods, having play dates at the Kiszka's house and riding the bus to school together. They had provided a sense of comfort to you, and through the years you had only grown closer. Throughout middle and high school, you spent more and more time together, evenings filling up with late night band practices, and for you, late night studying. There were few moments where you stayed away from them, and it truly felt like family, but as graduation day was approaching things took a turn. You had known the band meant a lot to them but you were never really sure if they were going to actually pursue it. Your parents had always been strict on finding a reliable career, and deep down you began to feel jealous of the boys for being able to follow their dreams.

-------------------------

"So...you're actually going to do this...band..thing?" you asked Jake while walking back to their house after a day out shopping.

"I mean yeah, why wouldn't we?" he asked, looking at you confused.

"Well..don't you think it's just...unrealistic?" You let out with a deep sigh. But as soon as it’s said you regret it as Jake’s face drops and he steps a bit further away from you.

"Unrealistic? What do you mean? We’ve worked really hard.”

At his tone you look down at the ground, focusing on your feet as you walk, "W-well i just think… Are you actually gonna be able to sustain that? Like shouldn't you have a backup plan?"

Your tone starts to sound accusatory, not meaning it to be. Jake let out a scoff, "Really y/n? So what, you've just been pitying us? Did you ever even really like our music?", he asks, sounding angry.

"I do, I just think it's important to have a plan for if it doesn't happen. You know, going outside of Michigan is a whole other story. They won't be as forgiving.”

The next words he said caused the beginning of the end. "Woooow y/n. Okay. Just because your parents want you to get a boring job and work a 9-5 doesn't mean I have to. Not everyone wants to be a goody two shoes. Maybe you need to rethink your plan before you come after mine.”

Again that jealousy kicked in. You looked back to him as the words left his mouth. You stopped walking and felt your face heat up as the anger flowed through your veins. He stopped as well, crossing his arms and gave you a glare.

"Well I’m sorry, ASSHOLE, for trying to be logical with my life. Not everyone gets the luxury of goofing off just hoping something happens. Some of us have to actually WORK for our success.”

-------------------------

That. That was the last time you had seen or talked to Jake, or any of the boys. Afterwards they would avoid you, and while it broke your heart, your pride was too big to ever say sorry. So graduation came and the boys left almost instantly off to wherever the band had taken them. And you…well, you had moved to Nashville, hoping that you could get into your dream school and start your career without a single thought of the past. Ready to move on and make something of yourself.

#jake x reader #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fic #greta van fleet

15 notes · View notes

ladydarkey · 1 year

Text

This was by far the one of the best day off this year.

Sleep in

Selfmade full english breakfast made by my Partner

Trip to a small zoo

Walk in a forest

Spending time with my cat on our balcony in the sun

Taking some product Photos for my smallbusiness

Eat homemade cake by my partner

Edit product Photos

Maintain my shop

Eat delicious German Kartoffelsalat I made in the morning

Sewing and packing orders

Gaming

Watching queer eye

Woooow.. wtf.. what a productive and happy day 😱 Wish every day off could be like this

#darkey and her thoughts #thoughts dump #wonderful day #happy today #and tomorrow the sad feelings will hit again

5 notes · View notes

the-fading-stars · 1 year

Text

Ok, idc idc you will now get my live reactions to the new FOB Album.

Love from the Other Side is a great Song. We been knew. I love the lyrics, I love the melody and I know it by heart already. This Was the Song that got me excited for this Album. Also I live for racoon Joe. I am especially in love with the prechoruses. But the 'give up what you love before it does you in' in the bridge Hits hard too.

Heartbreak feels so good is the other track i already knew. It is fun but for me personally the post-chorus is a bit to empty and take away from the rest a bit. Like the part with lyrics is great but then the 'ooooh' Part just makes me get tired of the Song quicker which is a bit sad because the rest of it is dope even through it is very repetitive.

Hold me like a grudge: The Bass line is really dope. The buildup towards the chorus progresses really nicely. Ooooh, the chorus hits hits. I love this. Even tho it is simplistic and very Pop and Patrick Sounds like Michael Jackson in some lines. The claps and Percussion give it a nice dynamic. I really feel the chorus lyrics wise. Very nice.

Fake out: oh this is giving One Direction vibes lol. It's a bit boring. Nah, this sounds like another boring love Song. Bit dissapointing. Ok, some of the lyrics are pretty. But it's just too generic overall. Oh, there was a bit of acapella, it's such a cheap move but I love it Every time. But Yeah, this is not it.

Heaven, Iowa: is this a balad? Oh it's a pretty epic balad. Sounds like a movie soundtrack. Oh no, this was a straight up Panic! line. Ok, I love the gitar in the second chorus. This might grow on me a lot. Nah, I don't like the bridge. Hm, this is quite the mixed bag. I'll have to See about this in a Week I'll either love or hate it. But the gitar is beautiful and Patricks' voice is of course also gorgeous so they got that going for them

So good right now: that is a fun Song right out the gate. This is a cleaning Song. And that says a lot because i need the brigh test Songs i can find for cleaning. Oh this makes me wanna dance. Yes, the chorus is lyrically also not very complex but it is fun and it matches the Song and sometimes that's all we need. Great Song.

The Pink Seashell: oh, interesting sampling of Ethan Hawke. It's a nice speech.

I am my own muse: Violin? Violin. Oh, this is a whole orchestra! Woooow, I love this. The harmonies?! Hell yes! This Song is legitimatly amazing. It is also sampling a really famous peace of classical music I think. And the guitar coming in with the orchestra? The Horns with this Bass line? I am in love. Wow, applause. This Was a journey and I ascended.

Flu Game: this is a fun track. It's in line with Dance Dance vibe wise. Very Fall Out Boy. Nothing New, solid Song. Weird Video game waiting screen outro

Baby Annihilation: hm, the speech is a bit too 2012 Tumblr girl melodramatic but that is Pete at his core, isn't it?

Zen years: Ok, the Song itself starts beautifully. The Electronic Sound is a nice Touch to an other wise familiar sounding Song. Hm, it's a bit forgettable in big parts. Ha! This part is the melody of 'what makes you beautiful' by one Direction. I knew it sounded familiar. Lol.

What a time to be alive: this is a fun track. The plucked Bass is dope. Very Disco track. I really like it. Ye, this is a Song for going to uni in the korning. Yes, I too am ready to livestream the apocalypse. This is a great summer Song. The lyrics are also pandemic inspired which is rather ridiculous on such an upbeat Song.

So much (for) Stardust: Violin, Piano, moody Song. Sudden trumpet. James Bond Song vibes. Subtle keychange i think. I want to hear this Song played in a church. It is a very specific vibe that I really enjoy. Great ending for an album. Ooooh, reference to the first Song of the Album. They're going full circle. Another sublte changeup and we're going back to a last chorus. Oh they brought in a choir for the end. I just kinda wish they hadn't done a fade out end.

#fall out boy #Fob #so much (for) stardust #heartbreak feels so good #love from the other side #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley #FOB album

5 notes · View notes

maskedinstructor · 7 months

Text

Black Education in America- Time for Some Crazy Sh*t.

It's Time for Some Crazy Sh*t. Damn it ! We have survived a pandemic. Yet, we are still replicating things of the past. I am angry and astonished that I hear from the mouth of renown educators that we must accelerate our instructional goals, objectives and practices to compensate for time lost during the pandemic. The gap created by it was and still is wide and long. We are requested to hurry up and repeat the hideous, appalling and dreadful curricula, the same old sh*t, In a unique and novel way. The pandemic caused us, to pause, hesitate, reflect. In that state of contemplation, in my heart, I knew it was time for some crazy sh*t. It was the precise moment to be audacious, to be BOLD. Indeed, then, it was the exact situation in which we were forced to be ferociously fearless. My papers are here presented. Who are the people who have been outrageously successful in the proposed subject matter which we shall employ as the fulcrum of our academic innovation? Who are those whose love for this product has long inspired creativity which is the envy of industries throughout the world? Obviously, I speak of our children. They have mastered the new subject. They have inspired product development and innovation to such a degree that scholars seek their advice and counsel more than frequently. Their taste has virtually birthed the enterprise. I declare that a school with this as its curricular focus would fawn students who would achieve at such a high standard of excellence that the Earth itself would turn on its axis anew. It is not science or math or language arts or technology. Here are life, study, academic rigor as they pertain to the real world. Our curriculum is that frozen dessert from the very heavens. Wars have been halted when the gorgeous gelato was presented as a mediation chip. With the full consent of our juvenile scholars. the delightful delicacy will head the scholastic pursuits. AND... the school will be named "The Ice Cream School. Vanilla or Chocolate"...Crazy, indeed! Of course, for it is time for some crazy Sh*t.

Every child in the universe would want a seat in that school in which he could eat as much ice cream as HE desired. In addition SHE would have these menu choices available to HER : Cookie Dough Chunks, Cherry Garcia, Americone Dream, Lights Camera Action, Oatmeal Dream Pie, Chocolate Milk & Honey, Raspberry Cheese Cake, Salted Caramel Core, Pumpkin Pie Dessert, S'Mores, Caramel Brownie Moose Tracks, Guatemalan Ripple, English Toffee Crunch, Rum Raisin(More for the Staff than the students), Matcha Green Tea, Pralines & Cream, Mango Apricot Sorbet, Pomegranate Blueberry Chunks, Oreo Overload, The Pie Who Loved Me, All Lovin' No Oven, Mud Pie Mojo, Berry Berry Berry Goode, Strawberry Banana Rendezvous, Baseball Nut, Daiquiri Ice ( Faculty Request), Lemon Custard), Jamoca Almond Fudge, Icing On The Cake. WOOOOW !

The Ice Cream School is not a daydream. It is not vapors. It was conceived after decades of a longitudinal study and meticulous, fastidious, arduous research. If I may for a moment be critical of my chosen profession and state the truth to the educational establishment. " We missed the boat. The signs and signals were ever present, MR. SOFTEE ! Every summer day and late into fall, he appeared and his truck rang out those musical notes. Suddenly a bright cloud covered the Earth. The planet became motionless as if the inhabitants thereof were hypnotized. Children broke the spell by screaming the words, " Mr. Softee! Mr. Softee ! " They dashed homeward to retrieve money from their parents. With hands outstretched, all took money and curved their bodies in the direction of the truck, that Ice Cream truck. Instantaneously, after the purchase, the Earth returned to its normal state of calm and quiet. Witnessing that phenomenon for years, my fellow educators, scholars and I arrived at the conclusion that schools should provide the very same excitement and organization. I visualized other outcomes of a more mundane fashion. Here was the solution to the recurring problems which plague our schools:1. Absenteeism- Free Ice Cream at school. If you are absent, I eat your daily allotment.2. Tardiness -Morning ice cream bar closes at 7:29. 3. Discipline- Misbehavior deprives student of all treat-rights to free refreshment for a designated period of time. 4. Scholarship, academic achievement, Testing, Classroom participation and service - Student access to ice cream pleasures, delights, creations and concoctions can increase from limited to infinitesimal to absolute control. Ice Cream is that balm in Gilead. It is the soother, the peacemaker and the motivator. Children don't want money. They want ice cream. They don't want clothes. They want ice cream. They don't want a clean room. They want ice cream. They do not want to help Dad wash the car. They want Ice Cream. They don't want to mow the grass. They want Ice Cream. We were not schools for what children wanted. No! Those were the desires of their parents. Children want ice cream in all of its forms and glory.

(Sidebar) My friend is the most astute and intelligent woman on the planet. Her life is devoted to real estate. Her knowledge of it is at times scary, massive but impressive. If I wanted to create a school with a curriculum in real estate, I would first consult with her. Then I would zealously expose the students to everything, idea and belief in her portfolio. I would do so diligently and intrepidly for what I know of her is her intellect, her spirit of innovation and her love for the subject. ICE CREAM is real. It is authentic. It reaches far into the senses and attacks the heart. It has color, texture and natural beauty. It causes the mouth to water in anticipation. It teases, smiles and even laughs at the eater. It recognizes atmospheric changes. Should it not be cared for, it disappears before the eyes. It is merciless in its appeal. Ice Cream never surrenders. The last scoop is as sweet as the first. The sweetness and joy remain with that person for hours afterwards. Is that not a product worthy of exploration? Surely, it is! It is a school and curriculum innovation we must not forsake. BESIDES, IT IS TIME FOR SOME CRAZY SH*T... How do you like me now?

BEST OF 2023

0 notes