#foundational math for kids

[grapecaseschoices]

the internet is free.

THE INTERNET IS FREE.

the internet is

F

R

E

E

i think this all the time whenever someone says something taht they could just google. just pull up wikipedia. and heck half yall dont even wanna go that far. just ask your ridiculous grok. though i saw a bunch of people asking grok shit on twitter and being satisfied with the incorrect and/or ai robot admitted limited responses. but still ... AT LEAST.

[hairenya]

I’m not attractive enough to make TikTok videos, which is really for my own good because I would immediately get fired for ranting about how I don’t believe in phonics for 30 minutes straight

[cursezoroark]

I kinda want to have Mercury meet Steven in their childhood….

[technicolorxsn]

uh oh I think ive figured out the specifics but also that just sounds like asking to get bullied by high schoolers

[saharaedulive]

Tutors in Al Nahda Dubai - Sahara Education Institute

[queenbread]

ODD SQUAD MENTION

Odd squad is kid friendly SCP and it is just great. I sometimes like to watch it for the memes, this video essay explains it rather well

Why does it have actual lore??? And why does it make me laugh so much when I'm supposed to be a functioning adult...

If I have kids this is what they'll grow up on until they're old enough for SCP... For now I force such upon my nieces and nephews

the Holy Trinity of ''Odd things are happening,shi-''

[incognit0slut]

Devil’s advocate

Softcore Spencer doesn't feel any remorse when it comes to this strange arrangement involving sex. Neither do you.

Category: Smut (18+) Word count: 3.6k Content: fem!reader, dom!spencer, bratty reader if you will, implied age gap, unprotected p in v, spit kink, overstimulation, squirting, and kinda fwb or (more precisely) not-exactly-friends with benefits a/n: it took me more than 3 months to post again and it will probably take me another for the next post (kidding) (maybe not). try to imagine this spencer for a better experience

-

Spencer isn’t a good man.

A quiet verdict, a fault line.

A truth etched into the grain of his being that is unmoved no matter how many times people say otherwise.

He’s made a habit of the dissection — words, meanings, intent. A lexical autopsy, combing through every definition in the dictionary if it meant finding just one that could give weight to the well intentioned affirmations spoken by those who’ve shared his life through fourteen years of cases. From friends to mentors. From people he considers family. Even his mother has taken part in the exercise in her own way, quietly revising the definition of goodness to fit the shape of her son.

His love for her isn’t enough to convince him.

And he loves her, deeply, enough to bear the fragmented reality she clings to without complaint. Still, her confidence sounds like a desperate attempt to defend a virtue that, as far as he can tell, simply doesn't exist. Her faith in him is stubbornly rooted in wishes rather than proof. Pretty, fragile things wilting from reality. She doesn’t see the cracks hidden behind the glassy surface of his supposedly endearing charm.

Like most people never do. The brilliance of his brain blinds them. They think his mastery of facts or ability to weave information into careful answers is a reflection of some deeper moral foundation. Assuming that the man who can recite obscure case law from memory and deconstruct a lie with nothing but tone and syntax must also be someone incapable of harm. That someone who thinks in algorithms surely knows the difference between right and wrong and essentially follows it. Articulate, therefore righteous.

What lazy math that they run.

The truth, however, is far less romantic.

If there’s anything genuinely good left in him, he likes to believe it’s the act of waiting. Patience still sounds noble enough. It casts him as a silent benefactor, gifting others the space to sketch their own truths while he quietly collects their misconceptions and spends them like counterfeit bills.

He’s getting good at it, too.

Exchange his intelligence for wisdom.

Detachment for strength.

Emptiness for depth.

Little trades, so small and constant they almost feel natural now. As long as he keeps showing them the version they’ve come to accept, no one pauses to wonder if those long months locked inside his own head have carved him down to something less than whole. Selfish, perhaps, letting them cling to these illusions. But it’s a comfortable deception. They get the man they want, he keeps the truth to himself, paying nothing but time and silence for whatever reward comes from that carefully preserved silence.

After all, waiting is nothing more than delayed gratification, isn't it?

And this right here is what he’s waited for, to have you like this — warm and wet and dangling precariously off his bed.

A decadent reward for every second of restraint.

Purely carnal. Blasphemous in its perfection.

Your body curves at an angle that looks uncomfortable, a leg hooked over his shoulder, another barely hanging onto the edge of the mattress with the cool air licking your calf. Common sense tells him a complaint is warranted, yet not a murmur of discomfort escapes your pretty lips. You seem perfectly content to let him mold you into whatever shape he wants. Harmless, he insists, just a mutual indulgence between two consenting adults.

But morality has a way of souring sweet things — and maybe he should be ashamed.

Should be embarrassed at the way he finds satisfaction in this.

Should feel something other than pride watching your brows pinch together in pleasure.

Should care that he’s reduced to fucking you with all the desperation of a man who likes being selfish. It’s statistically uncommon for someone with his level of empathy, yet he stitches hunger into the tender curve of your body, scoring endless sensation with needles that prick and sting but never draw enough blood to slow him. Only if he distanced himself from you could he see the cruelty he’s gouging into the very seams of your skin.

He does no such thing.

He can’t. Not when he’s buried inside you like this, when your breath splits apart into fragile little pieces with weak fingers clawing at his back. Not when his selfishness feels bottomless, a craving so raw and wide and insatiable he's never dared give it a name — but somehow you seem to understand.

Understand what, though?

That he can’t help himself? That despite all the logic, all the reasons why he shouldn’t let himself have you, he does?

That he doesn’t regret it, not even a little?

No.

Good men don’t do this.

But you’re no saint either.

Innocence wears your face, but never fit so poorly. You’re trouble in its finest form — beautifully packaged, masterfully delivered with a smokey laugh that glides over the fine shiver pebbling across his skin as you offer a sly, “You’re getting sloppy.”

The smug little curl of your lips has his heart leaping in his throat, and he would have joined in your laughter if it weren’t for the way your breathless tone slithered into his ears. His brows draw together, sweat dripping down nose as he shakes his head to free the damp strands of hair clinging to his skin.

“Am I?”

“Mm.” You tip your head back against the bed, exposing the lovely curve of your neck. "Your age is starting to show.”

He finally huffs a laugh, lowers the leg hooked over his shoulder and trails up the inside of your thigh. “That’s not very nice.”

Your teeth briefly catch your lower lip.

“Neither is slowing down right when it’s getting good.”

“You think I’m slowing down?”

You faintly nod. “It’s actually cute how you’re pacing yourself. Should I be worried about your knees?”

That earns a sharp, almost affronted look before his palms grip both your inner thighs, followed by a sudden thrust that sends you back against the mattress. He thinks he’s regained some semblance of power over himself, until you let out a breathless little moan and continue to taunt him, arching your back with full insolence but only half the mockery. Docile in appearance alone when you’re flaunting your nipples in blatant invitation.

“That the best you can do?”

A hand flies to your breast, curling around the supple meat as he catches the stiff bud between his knuckles. “You’re acting brave tonight.”

“Sexually frustrated,” you admit with an exasperated sigh, rolling your hips. Urging him to move again. “Spent the whole day picturing you fucking me stupid and got exactly nothing.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

Nothing feels almost insulting considering how easily he coaxed you through his apartment.

He tries to bend lower, and sure enough, there’s something that feels suspiciously like age nipping at his lower back. A dull throb he quickly swallows as his mouth find your nipple. And toys with it, rolling the taut peak between wet tongue and wetter teeth, each slow suck a deliberate rebuttal that the way he’s been driving his cock into you for the past twenty minutes is anything but nothing.

Your fingers slip into the softest surface of hair.

“Fuck me harder.”

He turns his attention to your other nipple. “That still wasn’t enough for you?”

“If you have to ask, then clearly not.”

His mouth closes around you again, laps slow, teasing circles, all the while you grind your hips, shamelessly trying to fuck yourself with every delicious tug of his lips.

Instinctively, he starts rutting his hips in response. Little thrusts of his cock easing inside you inch by inch. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“I have every intention of finding out,” you counter, pulling him by his curls. “I know you can do better.”

His gaze touches yours.

You smile lazily.

“Go on. Show me.”

His eyelids dip in a slow, dangerous blink, and lets his nose brush the soft swell of your breast. Lingers. Smells the powdery scent of jasmine and honey consuming his senses.

What part of himself can he exchange this time? What currency of half-truths still has any value left?

The answer, adamantly, is etched in the narrow space of his mouth and your skin, a hush too charged to disguise. He doesn't think he owes you anything in counterfeit tonight. No borrowed patience. No repurposed kindness polished thin by repetition. The second you ask for more when he’s been giving you nothing less is the moment every polished veneer he’s spent years perfecting shatters like chipped glass.

So he gives you the one thing he’s never bartered — himself, stripped of caution.

Because no matter how many labels others slap on his name, you’ve never bought into a single one.

Not entirely. You catch the edges that don’t quite align, the rougher layers hidden beneath his careful composure. You see past the softness everyone assumes is the entirety of him, the reputation they’ve stitched together from fragments pieced carefully since he was an innocent young boy with oversized glasses and a penchant for knowledge.

Rationally, he is soft. He’s spent a lifetime wrapped in the belief that his gentleness is his sole trait. That it’s all he can embody.

But not with you.

With you, he's whatever he needs to be.

He's whatever he wants to be.

He pulls back just enough to watch your body seize around him, and drags his tongue over his chapped lips, tastes the salt of effort and the musky smell of sex before channeling what’s left of his energy into his core. Then fucks you harder. Shoving every inch back with a strangled noise of his own, savoring the tight pull of your dripping cunt. Relishing the slight roll of your eyes as he pushes deeper, harder, with a savagery that rips breathless whimpers from the back of your throat with each jarring thrust. 

Your moans ride every groaning hinge of the mattress, too, then linger, fogging the dark walls of his room as the wet slap of skin bounces off every surface. Stepping three beats out of time with reason, maybe more, for the way his eyes chase that music down the slope of your belly, following the trail of his thumbs over your mound, over your stretched folds, and pulls the soft skin apart.

His throat rises and falls in time with the motion of his cock — in, out, in, out. For someone so famously averse to germs, the streaks of your slick smearing across his skin outweigh every compulsion, so much so he pries you open even wider and lets a hot ribbon of saliva pool in his mouth. Watches it dribble over your clit. He’s nowhere near coherent enough to care about cleanliness when he can tell how much the slow trickle of his spit sliding down your swollen flesh — a foamy mess now resting heavily on his cock — only seem to intensify your thirst.

You squirm when he moves closer, fingers clawing around his wrist like you’re on the verge of asking for more but can’t bring yourself to say.

Stubborn, he's not surprised.

But he knows you well enough to understand the subtle shifts in your expression. He takes that slightly jutting lower lip of yours as a plea for him to give you what you need, so he smears the extra coat of lube over your clit and rubs frantically. Doesn’t bother to be gentle with it too, not when he’s seen how much you like it under rough hands. He’s proven right when he notices your muscles tensing up.

Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.

He rubs your clit with more pressure. “Good enough for you?”

You swallow thickly, blinking up at him through heavy lids. “Still—fuck—”

“What was that?”

“Still—think you can—do better,” you retort, hiccupping through your words. 

It’s beyond him that you’re still functioning. Your hair clings messily to your forehead, damp strands caught in a tangled halo around your face. Your cheeks are blotchy from where his stubble scraped across your skin, lips kiss-bruised and swollen and somehow still trying to get the last word.

You should be done by now. Boneless, reduced to little more than trembling limbs, yet you still have bits of reason floating around that mush he’s turned your brain into. There’s a spark of energy left to bait him. Foolish, he decides, but if there’s even a sliver of you left untouched, he’ll gladly take every fragment that dares to surface.

He wrenches off your body just long enough to fist his cock, dragging his bulbous tip through the sticky fluids down to the puckered hole beneath, then slaps himself through the mess. If it weren’t for your hips bucking shamelessly, he’d think he was wrong for indulging such filthy impulses he’s never dared to overstep. You can’t seem to discern whether the sharp throb is pain or pleasure, but your cunt flutters around emptiness and aches like it's grieving the loss of him.

One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s right back where you need him, hammering into that devastating spot that sends your pupils scattering upward, leaving nothing but the whites of your eyes. He pulls out and does it again.

And again.

And again.

And again, until he’s certain all your senses have braided into one indistinguishable pulse.

“Oh God,” you moan, trying to press your thighs together out of reflex, but his grip tightens as he pries them open once more.

You feel lightheaded. Your belly rolls, your cheeks burn, drool slips from the corner of your mouth. You’re so far gone you don’t even notice. Too wrapped up in the desperate drag of breath through your parted lips, too busy chasing the dizzy spark bursting behind your eyes. You’re nothing short of raw nerves, lost in the punishing rhythm that keeps tearing you open and stitching you together in the same brutal stroke.

It doesn’t take long for a high, agonizing squeal to wrench free from your throat as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Steals your breath away, leaving behind only a splintered string of gasps and trembling cries that fall recklessly from your lips as his pelvis hammers into the curve of your hip bone.

And he catches every fractured syllable and synchronizes his thrusts to the quiver of your voice, or maybe he’s simply addicted to the jagged rise and fall of your moans — like a direct stroke to his ego, trophies he hoards greedily.

He ponders how many more of those rewards he can coax from you tonight, how many more heights your body can scale before it finally gives way. He assumes it’s too much to ask, yet the greedy pulse in his veins insists there’s always more shiver to claim, another breathless note to add to his growing collection.

It turns out to be unnervingly easy.

Your second climax arrives in the span of a single heartbeat.

The third steals in like an electric stab, splintering along your spine as he pins you down and pounds hard into you.

By the fourth, your cunt swells and clenches around him in frantic pulses, yet he’s still fucking you relentlessly as if one more keepsake will finally satiate his greed.

Your hand shake when you lift one to trace his bicep, though it ends up as more of a twitchy pawing than anything resembling grace before you blindly scramble up his shoulder, finding his damp mess of curls again. Its wild, humid knot of heat tangles between your fingers as the most wrecked little whine trembles in your throat.

“P-Pee.”

He blinks, straining to pluck your voice over the rush in his ears. The words barely register at first, but when they do, his own pulse comes apart in a hot scatter mess.

“Need to pee,” you fluster again.

And if that doesn’t unravel him to his bones, he doesn’t know what will.

He tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs. “‘S not pee.”

“What?”

The confusion in your voice is almost cute for someone who usually acts like they know everything. Adorable how you’ve been nothing but provocative all night, only to falter gradually.

“You don’t need to pee,” he rasps. The grip behind your knees tightens, fingers digging into soft flesh as he drives deeper with all the focus he can muster. He’s holding back by sheer will alone now, even when the familiar feeling of his balls growing taut creeps up, but that ache is a small price to pay when he’s painfully aware of what your body is capable of giving.

His cock strikes a deep, delicious spot inside you.

Rearranges your insides until you're wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck,” you croak. “I’m gonna piss your bed.”

“It’s not pee.”

His words barely register when your whole body winds so tightly that your face doesn’t even look like yours anymore. Eyes unfocused, spine bowing, throat bared. The muscles in your neck tighten like cords that it’s clear you’re still trying to fight whatever pressure you’re under.

“You need to relax,” he urges, finding your clit once again. Wide eyes flutter over intense brown orbs.

“Wait wait wait—gonna pee—”

“You’re gonna come again,” he corrects. He sees you puff out a long breath, which is nothing less strained than his own. “Female ejaculation, different glands. Less than—”

His words catch in a groan as your cunt flutters around his thickness.

“…less than ten percent of the fluid is even related to—to urine.”

Annoyed, you tug on his curls and whine, “This isn’t the time.”

“No better time than now.” His hips continue to buck into you with a sharp, hungry rhythm. “You’ll understand if you stop fighting it.”

“I can’t!”

“You can.” Thwack-thwack-thwack. “You will.”

The sound of his balls slapping against the wet cradle of your ass is making you delirious. Even more so when a warm, buzzing sensation sparks in your core and rushes outward, blooming into this intense prick that spreads across your lower belly with startling speed.

“Oh—shitshitshit—”

“That’s it, just breathe through your nose.”

His words falls on deaf ears. “I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

“You’re not supposed to hold it in.”

"I—wa—wait—Spencer!”

“Let it out,” he frets, and closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads nearly touching, brows pulling together in quiet frustration. “Need you to trust me for once.”

“I don’t—fuck! I am NOT pissing on you—”

“Do it.”

“I can’t—”

“C’mon,” he prods. “Give it to me.”

You sniff a strangled sob.

“Do it.”

You claw at his hair once more, and any semblance of control that you clung to shatters immensely.

You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding. A passage of whines pitches upward as his thumb swipes side to side over your tight nub while he slams into you. Once, twice, over and over — until a concentrated surge of pressure around his cock urges him to pull out.

Warm bursts of liquid splashes onto him. Streaks down his damp thighs, the flushed skin of his skin. Seeps deep into the cotton fabric of his sheets with muffled sounds as your heart thunders wildly in your chest. He doesn’t even try to fight the smile that pulls at his mouth the second your eyes flicker with disbelief, or the lazy circle his thumb traces around your sensitive, overstimulated clit. He’s too focused on the way your release continues to mark the bed he intends to sleep in.

"There it is,” he hums proudly, "knew you could do it."

He did. He knew this would happen the moment your breath stuttered into helpless little gasps, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality. His lust blooms unchecked, a fever behind molten eyes, something his vision can’t seem to outrun. Even as his gaze blurs over your dripping hole puckering around nothing, over the tiny bead of precum trickling down your cleft, he’s stunned into silence.

You’re a ravishing mess, and he’s never seen anything so pretty.

You’re on another level of divine that it makes something in his head tick just from the sight. His cock twitches helplessly as he unconsciously inserts himself back through the warm puddle of your flesh, and swears he can still feel you fluttering. Feels the tremor in your sweet, sopping cunt. Hears the faint splatter of droplets beating the sheets with every deliberate stroke of his hips.

He’s long since fallen behind in being a good man, but you certainly deserve something in return for listening to him. So he reaches out, cradles your face between palms that have never claimed to be gentle, and drinks deeply. Tries to steal back the breath you robbed from him.

Kiss, taste, repeat.

Touch, grab, repeat.

But it’s not enough.

He doesn’t think it ever will be.

The dopamine surge won’t last, a notion as clear as the haze of your sweat gluing to his skin. He’s even sure he could rattle off half a dozen papers about reward circuits and compulsive behavior, recite the exact millisecond window in which the pleasure centers will spike and fall. None of it matters when your mouth parts for him and your breath warms his cheeks.

He tries to catalog the way your pulse thumps beneath his thumb, the microscopic tremor in your lashes, the sweetness of carbon dioxide exhaled against his tongue. It becomes another unsolved equation, a tangle of variables his doctorate never prepared him to parse. There’s only the thunderous beat of his own heart and the simple, staggering fact that you’re here, giving when he has taken so much.

But there is no safe dosage of you that will let him step back unscathed. One hit becomes two, two becomes habit, soon habit feels indistinguishable from necessity. An addiction he can’t refuse when it would only mean denying himself the only thing that makes him feel alive.

And if that makes him weak, he might as well be weak for you — again and again until there’s nothing left of him that doesn’t carry the imprint of your name. To ruin or to worship, it makes no difference to him.

He’ll fall to his knees just the same.

Your pulse begins to settle into a calmer rhythm in the hush that follows, and he scatters small kisses along the corner of your jaw, up the sweep of your cheekbone, pausing at the hinge of your lips. The gentle weight of his mouth has you shifting along wet sheets, every muscle tensing at the unexpected softness threaded through his touch.

Tenderness, in your world, feels foreign. Unfamiliar. Ill-fitting. And truthfully, he isn’t much better when it comes to you. Sharper tongues seem to be the better fit for two people who know how to fight more than they know how to surrender.

His lips skate beneath your chin instead, slides along the sweat slick column of your throat and hums, “Think you can do that again?”

Avoidance. It’s the language you both speak fluently.

The stiffness in your body bleeds out with your next exhale.

“…depends on your skill, old man.”

That's it. He can take another one of your barbed little comments. Another sly jab delivered with that pretty pout of your mouth. In fact, he finds himself almost craving it. Your taunts fuel the heat beneath his skin as much as they test his patience, and patience is something he's mastered after all. So he continues to grind his hips. Rubs the tip of your clit with the fine coarse of hair dusting his belly before you’re writhing again.

Peculiar, how easily his selfishness devours reason. Logic. Decorum. How quickly a man who’s built his life on discipline can find himself unraveling for something as simple and devastating as the way you gasp his name.

A good man would’ve stopped at the soft mist pooling in your eyes.

Spencer keeps going.

"If a God is a dog and a man is a fraud then I'm a lost cause." Devil’s Advocate—The Neighbourhood

[frownyalfred]

Seeing your little boy be a father that you never got to be I know Thomas feels sickkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Your son is literally older than you and is rolling his eyes at the new way schools are teaching their kids how to do math and you just mourn that you never got the chance to do the name

I'm sure it exists and I'm just missing it, but I want a resurrection fic where Thomas is like "oh no my son really did outpace everything I've done for this city" and legitimately recognizes that Bruce is objectively a greater man than he was at the same age, instead of Thomas just mentally shitting on Bruce for choosing violence. Like yes, I eat that up too, it's delicious angst, but objectively speaking your son did SO MUCH more than you did for Gotham, and even just as man in his own life.

Master martial artist by 30 - one of the best in the world

Holds doctorates or the equivalent in multiple subjects

Raised multiple kids into notable heroes

Founded the Justice League

Continued the Waynes' foundations + charity work in Gotham and improved their reach and support

Wayne Enterprises/etc - while the work focus shifted, the work, profits, and employees are even better than Thomas' time

Founded Batman Incorporated, if you're including that

Helped root out corruption in GCPD and other city organizations

Consults/liaises on so many international and intergalactic cases it isn't even funny

But a lot of times, DC and/or fic focuses on Thomas being disappointed in Bruce?

like dude. your son has a DINOSAUR in his BAT CAVE and those two things aren't even the most interesting parts of him.

[jaellyfishh]

The Corner Where We Met · Part 1

age: Azzi - 26 y/o, Paige - 27 y/o

trope: art teacher!azzi x PE teacher!paige (slightly inspired by Abbott Elementary)

content: fluff

dc: some grammar mistakes, i use australian english, i know little about the american school system, maybe slow updates if i’m in a slump, i’d love feedback (i’m new to writing)

word count: 5.1K

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“Ms. Fudd, can you show me how to shade my circle?” A quaint voice from the corner table caught Azzi’s attention while she had been weaving around her classroom observing her students’ drawing.

“Of course, my love. Here”

It was like any other Monday morning for Azzi Fudd at Moore Public High, a combined middle and high school institution in Storrs, Connecticut, where she had been teaching middle school art for four years since she was just 22 years old. Being the first week off of summer break, today’s art lesson mainly focused on the theories of Light and Shadow.

The lesson plan that she had curated this academic year was no different to previous years, however she did want to focus on the foundational elements of drawing within the first month. From the outcomes throughout the trials and errors of teaching since her first year at the school, Fudd realised the pattern of her students struggling during the mid-semester mark up until their final art project. She figured allowing time for them to have a good grip of the basics would ease her students into the forthcoming lessons, making art more familiar, more friendly.

Ring, ring, ring.

Finally, lunch time, Azzi thought.

“Before you leave, don’t forget your homework for tomorrow, alright guys? Y’all drew amazing, thank you for today!” Azzi half-yelled as her students made their way through the door, a disorganised chorus of ‘Thank you, Ms. Fudd’ echoing throughout the classroom.

The young curly haired woman smiled as she watched the last student leave the class. With a small pile of her files and books balanced on one arm, she switched the room lights off before heading down the corridor to the teacher’s lounge for lunch.

A small crowd of teachers came into sight after Azzi had swung the door open. As she made a quick beeline towards the fridge, a loud shuffling of feet approached her.

“Aye, Fuddie Bun! How’s first day treatin’ ya?” A boisterous voice startled Azzi.

“Geez, KK. One day, you’re gonna give me a heart attack!” Azzi yelled-whispered at her coworker, Kamorea ‘KK’ Arnold - a childhood nickname only her closest of colleagues can call her, and by closest of colleagues she means just the one Azzi Fudd.

KK started her rookie year as their high school math teacher a year after Azzi was employed. They had become close friends early on, I mean, it was hard to avoid Arnold in general as she was ever the more extroverted and very personable in a loud way, but not that Azzi minded anyways. Despite their contrasting personalities, they found comfort in each other over the few years, ranting it out and gossiping in the break room after a long school day or winding down at each other’s places over the weekend.

“Everyone’s too serious this morning, girl. My classroom is way more entertaining than this!”

“KK, it’s Monday, whaddya expect?”

After sharing brief exchanges with their colleagues nearby, the pair took their lunch box of homemade food from the microwave and sat in the corner of the lounge.

“Hey, did you hear they hired a new PE coach? I heard she’s pretty good,” KK mumbled as she munched on her wrap.

“Oh my god, really? It’s the fourth one since I’ve been here. I bet she’ll be gone by next month. Our kids can be ruthless sometimes,” Azzi reckoned while absentmindedly picking on the lettuce of her caesar salad.

“For real! But, nah, I saw her talking to Big G-“

“Principal Auriemma,” Azzi corrected.

“To Principal Big G Auriemma,” KK ignored teasingly, “at his office. And she sounds like she stands on business! I know she’ll put our kids in place”.

“Cool… let’s bet on it,” Azzi said smoothly.

“Girl, what?”

Azzi chuckled as she shook her head. “You heard me…you know how I tell you my life seems kinda boring right now and I kinda wanna spice things up this year?” Fudd half-joked referring to a conversation they would occasionally have outside of school, “So, let’s bet on it. She’ll be gone by next month”.

“Babe, when I said I wanted you to spice up your life I meant going on dates, having one-night stands…this is seriously not your take on spicing things up, is it?” KK looked at her friend in disbelief.

“Hey, not too loud!” Azzi hissed, “You shouldn’t always take my words seriously, dude. Now, c’mon, what are we laying on the table?”

“Alright, alright,” holding back from making any further comments on a Monday afternoon, KK pondered. “Hmm, how about winner gets to pick a hideous outfit for the loser to wear on a school day?”

“Oh…hell no!”

“I knew this’d piss you off, Li’l Miss Fashionista,” KK cooed as she poked on Azzi’s arm annoyingly. “What happened to spicing things up?”

“Fine, fine! Just make sure it’s appropriate- OW!” Azzi winced at the sudden slap on her arm.

“Defamation of my character! Of course it’ll be appropriate, what do you take me for?” KK protested.

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully before sticking her tongue out.

“Oh and Azzi, I forgot to mention,” a small grin etched on KK’s lips, “she’s totally your type”.

“I- what?”

“You’ll see it when you see it. Just…don’t flirt the way you do at the clurb” KK voice animatedly while leaning forward, staring at Azzi with mischievous intent.

The older girl scoffed while leaning back on her chair. “I flirt just fine, Kamorea. I’m a little rusty, but I still got it”.

“Right, right. She’ll be the judge of that”

“What are you talking about, honestly?“ Azzi surrendered trying to figure out her friend’s intention, but Arnold remained mysterious.

“Can I make our bet more fun, then? You can pick my school attire for a whole week if I can bet you'll end up sleeping with a faculty member before the end of next month.”

Fudd’s mouth was left agape. “Enticing, and nothing in return? The stakes are high for this one. Is it that serious for you, KK?”

“I trust in my gut,” KK mused, arms folded.

“Well, tell your gut that it’s wrong. Besides, I don’t shit where I eat, my four years being here proves it”.

“That’s ‘cause there was nobody good looking enough here for you to fuck. It’s prime time now, baby,” KK rubbed her hands menacingly, much to Azzi’s disgust.

“Bro-“

Ring, ring, ring.

Fifth period rolled in and Azzi had just pardoned herself to use the toilet halfway through her class. As soon as she swerved and bent that corner right before the end of the hall to the toilet doors, her body collided abruptly with another. Azzi almost stumbled backwards in her position before a long arm swooped just around Azzi’s waist before any accidents were to happen.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Azzi apologised before lifting her head to look at her saviour.

Tall. Slicked back blonde. Blue eyes. All black sports wear.

Fudd’s knees buckled, slightly wobbling unsteady in her position again. The grip around her waist tightened.

“Hey, you good?” The blonde breathed, half smiling as the curly haired woman in front of her chuckled whilst shaking her head in embarrassment. The unfamiliar lady took her arms off of Fudd as soon as she was able to stand upright on her own, all the while studying her movements - her curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I should’ve slowed down before turning the corner,” Azzi exhaled deeply as her brown eyes stayed hypnotised in the blue ones in front of her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before”.

Paige chuckled this time with a slight smirk, her hand sliding the lanyard around her neck slightly towards Azzi. “Yeah, I’m the new PE teacher.”

The shorter girl’s cheeks grew warm as she quickly scanned the figure in front of her.

Yeah, KK wasn’t kidding, she thought.

“I’m Paige. Paige Bueckers,” she grinned before holding a hand out.

“I’m Azzi Fudd. I, uh, I teach art for our middle schoolers,” she smiled shyly before shaking her hand.

Paige raised her eyebrows. “The drawings on the board right at the entrance, they’re your kids’?” Azzi nodded proudly. “Well, they got a pretty darn good teacher. They’re beautiful”.

When Paige said the latter sentence while staring into the depths of Azzi’s soul, she couldn’t help but feel that was addressed to Fudd herself and not the drawings, but she immediately shook her thoughts away in denial.

“Why, thank you,” Azzi slowly blinked while flashing a charming smile. “How’re the kids treating you?”

“Well, they’re something else for sure,” Paige rubbed the back of her neck before letting out a breathy laugh. “It’s my first day, so I’m doing a trial run. They just gotta loosen up to me a li’l, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I know the kids wanna seem tough, but…they don’t know I’m the toughest one out here.”

Azzi nodded in amusement as her arms folded. She assumed Paige was going to say something more profound. “Is that so? Wow, so maybe KK was right about you”.

“Talking about me behind my back already? I can never stay away from people’s thoughts,” Paige exclaimed sarcastically, her true personality unraveling in front of Azzi, a type of confidence she’s never encountered before. Fudd was hooked, there was a certain charm to the blonde that Azzi couldn’t help but want to be trapped in.

“Please, don’t flatter yourself,” Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, “We just wanna see if you got what it takes to teach our kids at Moore. The teachers here gotta be gritty, smart…resilient”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart, I already got that covered. The more important question is,” Paige took a step closer. “Do the kids have what it takes to handle me?”

Fudd’s breath hitched at the sudden proximity. She’s got crazy eye contact, Azzi thought.

“Just don’t come begging me for help when it gets to it, yeah?” Azzi was able to get back, her head tilting to the side as she gently pushed the woman back.

“Not until you hear your kids complain about me all class before you beg me to stop them,” Paige was quickly retorted.

For a moment they just stood there giggling at what they thought was the most entertaining interaction they’ve had all morning.

“You’re an interesting one, Bueckers, I’ll give you that”

“Well, they hired me for a reason, didn’t they? Seems like it’s a pattern ‘round here,” Paige hummed triumphantly as she slid her hands into her pockets while tracing her eyes over Azzi’s face. It was an electric silence that surrounded them, a tension raising hairs on their skin as they stared at each other for a moment. Then Paige realised why Azzi was there in the first place.

“Hey, you probably need to go more than I wanna stay,” Paige interjected quickly before Azzi could register what she just said. “I’m gonna head back before they start running out the doors to escape,” Bueckers gave her a knowing nod before slowly moving past her towards the hallway.

“Uh, nice meeting you, Azzi Fudd. I’d- I’d love to see you around more often,” a slight smirked etched on Paige’s face as she turned around to face Fudd again.

“We’ll see about that. Just don’t think you can one-up me every time I see you” Fudd reflected the blonde’s smirk before pushing the bathroom door open. Paige couldn’t help but let out an incredulous chuckle before jogging back to the gym.

Dammit, I hate when KK’s right, Azzi’s thought ran.

—

“So, how hot was she? Tell me!” Caroline Ducharme, Azzi’s roommate and best friend, asked too inquisitively while shaking her friend’s arm.

“Car, careful, I’m cooking here!” Azzi scolded, her hands on the wok as she stirred some fried rice.

It was dinner at the Fudd-Ducharme apartment and the pair were catching up on their daily newsfeed. Being best friends of almost 12 years now, they did everything together, even managing to tick most of the boxes off of their childhood bucket list. One of it being to live together in their dream three-story mansion. And although their current accommodation was far from it, it was with the artistic creativity of Fudd and the financial literacy of Ducharme that they were able to conjure up a budget interior design, making their cold Connecticut apartment into a cozy, earthy home.

“This is so exciting! After months of pushing potential partners away, someone finally caught your attention. Sucks that it had to be at work, though,” Caroline rambled as she leaned on the kitchen island behind Azzi.

The curly-haired girl whipped her around unamused. “She’s not a potential partner. And I’m only stating the obvious - she’s objectively pretty. Even KK agrees”.

“Yeah, well KK isn’t attracted to her, you are”

“What makes you say that?”

“Babe, I’ve known you since we were in middle school. Besides, weren’t you just geeking earlier about how she had her arms around you like she was your knight in shining armour?” The taller girl argued back.

“You’re exaggerating, I never said that. I just said it was really thoughtful of her to do that, you know?” Azzi reasoned, but Caroline wasn’t buying it.

“Whatever you say, Azzi. I don’t giggle like a school girl about kind gestures like that. I mean, it’d be worse if she was tall, blonde with blue eyes and athletic, that’s for sure,” Ducharme shook her head.

And then Azzi froze. Almost too obviously.

“BITCH, YOU’RE COOKED!”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up-“

“I’m searching her socials. What was it? Paige Bueckers? How do you spell that-“ Caroline whipped out her phone before hurriedly running to the living room not too far from where they were. But it was not like Azzi had the energy to chase her anyways.

“Caroline Ducharme, I swear to God, you need to stop-“

“Found her!” Caroline interrupted as Azzi grew silent. Not that she’d want to admit, but Fudd herself was already curious. “Damn, she is hot”.

The curly haired woman groaned before Caroline approached her once again, shoving her phone to Azzi’s side, the brightness illuminating her face.

Paige’s instagram profile was public with almost 300 followers. Her bio had a red pin emoji with just the initials ‘MN’ next to it, perhaps what the pair assumed to be her hometown, Minnesota. Her profile was half empty with only 5 posts, the most recent being the only one with her face on it taken last July over the summer which Caroline had clicked on soon after.

She was gorgeously tanned. Her skin looked moist from the sunscreen as she wore a pastel purple bikini top paired with black basketball shorts, effortlessly making the fit look good on her body. She posed with a slight manspread on a blue striped beach chair, her sparse curly waves lifting perfectly with the wind.

As Caroline swiped on the next photo, it was a selfie on that same day with Paige wearing a bucket hat this time, her blue eyes gleaming as she bit her cheeks.

“Daaammn,” Caroline gushed, turning her head to face Azzi. She noticed her friend’s eyes glued stuck on her phone, scanning every inch of the picture. “Like what you see?”

The question brought Azzi back to reality, a begrudging tsk elicited from her.

“Take your phone away before I smack you,” the shorter friend mumbled, pulling her attention back to the wok.

“Or before you start gooning-“

“What are you, sixteen?”

Caroline couldn’t help but laugh at the angry state of her best friend. “What are you so upset about? If anything, I’d let her hit immediately.”

“Car, this is getting out of hand. You and KK both,” Azzi whined before switching the gas off and removing her apron. Caroline instinctively started pulling out her homemade avocado shake out the fridge, setting it down on their dinner table while Azzi poured the fried rice onto the place Ducharme had set on the kitchen island.

“Az, you know I’m teasing. But, seriously, why are you denying that she’s really fine and totally your type?”

As the pair took their plates to the dinner table, the curly haired woman sighed before taking her seat.

“It’s not that I’m denying it, I’m being respectful. I don’t know anything about her and I just… I don’t wanna get to know anyone right now,” Azzi confessed before taking a bite of the fried rice. Ducharme hummed.

“Aha, is this…is this possibly still about Des? Hasn’t it been almost two years already?”

“I dunno, I think it is. It was a four-year relationship, Car. She meant everything to me when I first moved here. And you know how I am in relationships. Fuck, I hate being the anxious-attachment type”

“I know you’re gonna hate me every time I say this, but as your pseudo-relationship counsellor hearing you vent to me over the years about Destiny, all I can say is she was a conniving ass bitch who didn’t realise you deserved someone worthier than her. So what did she do? She grew more insecure, projected that onto you and turned you into what you became in the relationship. But, you knew that and you knew I hated that girl from the get go. But I also knew you loved her more than my voice could even reach you. And, as your best friend, of course I stayed…because I was ready to catch you when you’d eventually fall,” Caroline sermonised, her hands caressing Fudd’s.

What was brilliant about the relationship of the two was how they both gave each other such unconditional, unwavering love and understanding throughout the decade of their friendship. They matched each other in mature introspection and calm confrontations, making their bond stronger over the years.

“Oh, Car,” Azzi chuckled, “You’re gonna make my fried rice salty from the tears about to fall from my face.”

“Oh, shut up,” the taller girl rolled her eyes as she sipped on her avocado shake. “Anyways, tell me more about Paige, please?”

Azzi stared at her friend in disbelief, shaking her head before she continued. “Alright, alright. Well, she’s confident. Like, really confident. It’s like she has this big head from being so certain and egotistical about herself, but…I never felt any malice in it, at all. If I were to assume, she probably does that to get the best out of people, you know?”

Caroline’s eyebrows couldn’t raise any higher than that. “Ooo la la, sounds like she has a little crush.”

“Please, Car, I spend half my day with middle schoolers not to come home to one,” Azzi groaned.

Her best friend smiled quietly. “It’s cute. Just…don’t be afraid to let things flow as they should”.

Azzi nodded when suddenly her roommate gripped her hand tightly. “And who cares if you’re gonna shit where you eat, I’m gonna call the plumber on you all day!”

“Yeah, you’re getting evicted tonight”

—

Tuesday morning came and the usual background noise at Moore Public High seeped through the gaps of Azzi’s car as she parked it. The familiar sounds became more apparent the moment she had opened her door. The low rumble of the school bus’ engine, the jittery chatter amongst the students, the cool autumn breeze whistling by and… loud morning greetings bellowing from the steps of the school’s main entrance?

“Derrick, don’t frown like that, put some pep up in your step!”

“Senara, love your hair! Lookin’ fresh!”

“What did you pack in here, Caleb? Geez Louise!”

Fudd stood dead on her tracks as she watched the new scene of her mundane morning unfold before her. It was a little too early for the taller woman’s enthusiastic positivity for Azzi’s liking, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She also noticed her new coworker’s outfit for the day, simple yet fitting - All white socks and nikes, grey basketball shorts with a plain white tee and an unzipped pink wind breaker; Azzi’s favourite colour.

However, it didn’t take long before Azzi realised she herself wore pink today. Low white heels, bright pink slacks and a formal white button up. Well, isn’t that convenient, she thought.

Downing on the pink tumbler with her morning coffee on one hand like a shot of tequila, she braced herself, approaching the blonde who was busy ruffling the hairs of one of Azzi’s students.

“Not too much on Adrian’s hair, his dad works hard on it every morning,” the soft tone of a familiar voice caught Paige’s attention.

“You tell ‘em, Ms. Fudd!” The younger boy yelled before scurrying off into the building.

With raised eyebrows and a closed smile, Bueckers had her hands folded as she looked down at the younger woman who stood one step below her. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Ms. Fudd.”

“Hey, you greeted all the kids with something, don’t be boring now,” The curly haired colleague teased, her dimples peeking out as she looked up at Paige through her lashes.

“Hmmm,” The taller woman looked Azzi up and down, scanning her meticulously causing the younger woman to stagger faintly in her steps, a warmth growing on her cheeks.

“Was the pink intentional?” Paige smirked, leaning her head down. Azzi scoffed.

“I’ll have you know that pink is my favourite colour, so no”

“Noted,” Paige chuckled. “You look good in pink, Ms. Fudd”

The comment caught Azzi way off guard before she started coughing. Is this woman doing the triangle method on me right now? She questioned internally. The shorter lady knew all too well of Flirting 101 as she was a mere student of it herself. Of course, it doesn’t always pan out on a couple weekend nights at the queer club with KK and Caroline. But if not as the giver but as the recipient, she can tell if someone was trying techniques on her.

“Don’t try to think you’re getting on my good side today, Ms. Bueckers,” Azzi took one more step up, the pair now at eye level. “You don’t look too bad yourself…” Azzi spoke with a hushed tone, her eyes trailing down as she played with the hem of Paige’s pink wind breaker. “But this would look much better on me”.

She slowly lifted her eyes back to face Paige, who was now rendered speechless, her jaw tightly clenched trying to stifle a reaction in front of the kids. With a final smile, the curly haired woman walked right past her taller counterpart before who knows what could’ve escalated. Bueckers could only scoff before clearing her throat to resume her new morning routine.

Morning assembly at the gym was just the same as per usual, except for a few announcements including the introduction of Moore’s newest PE teacher, the theme for their winter recital and a reminder of the upcoming high school basketball try outs.

“Azzi Jazlyn Fudd, I saw that,” Arnold tapped on the older colleague as they made their way down the crowded hall to their respective classrooms.

“Saw what?” Fudd asked innocently.

“You flirting with the new PE teacher this morning. Now that was steamy,” KK pressed her 18+ jokes.

“Quit it, Arnold. Must you always make things sound like…that,” Azzi exasperated.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, though. I see you wanna sabotage the bet bad”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you and I were just making jokes to pass time”

“Maybe. But, admit it, she does kinda look good today, don’t you think?” KK’s persistence would make anyone go mad.

“You want her instead, KK? Seems like it,” Azzi had reached her classroom door.

KK continued frolicking down the hall. “I’m good. I don’t wanna deal with the wrath of a jealous Fudd”

Azzi grunted loudly before entering her classroom with a smile.

—

The blaring sound of the final school bell rang across the building as the clock had struck 3pm. Azzi was just finishing up on grading the last student’s assignment at the teacher’s lounge before neatly shoving her files and papers into her bag.

She walked down the hallway, the building already emptying out, when she couldn’t help but notice a familiar tall figure making their way towards the hallway that turned left towards the gym. With curiosity, the curly haired woman’s actions moved quicker than her mind could think. And soon her legs took her to follow from behind at a distance.

What am I doing? She asked herself.

Right at the gymnasium door, Fudd peeked her head to see where the figure went when she was met with nothing but the vast emptiness of the spacious gym, except for the hideous amounts of balls, hula hoops, and multicoloured cones scattered across the venue.

With unknowing disappointment, Azzi was ready to turn back to the exit when a loud voice erupted from behind.

“Boo!”

“FUCK!”

Once again, Azzi had lost her footing before her legs gave way, not until a familiar arm wrapped graciously around her waist to stop her from falling backwards.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you draw these typa actions on purpose,” Paige laughed breathlessly before helping Azzi regain her balance.

A tinge of red spread throughout Azzi’s face as she dusted herself off. “Y-you shouldn’t scare people like that”.

“Well, I don’t condone stalking,” The blonde grinned as she stared accusingly at the nervous woman in front of her.

“W-who said anything about stalking? What if I happen to coincidentally walk in the same direction as you?”

Paige placed her hands on her hips. “To a dead end? Unless you came here to help me clean up, I don’t see any reason for you to walk all the way down here after school”.

The shorter girl in front of her lowered her head as it filled with a mixture of guilt, embarrassment, and regret. Her fingers started to fiddle with the strap of her brown leather bag slung on her shoulder as she tried to find her words.

Paige stood patiently, scanning her body language before smiling in empathy.

“You alright to help me put those things away? That is, if you still got some energy left in you,” Paige leaned slightly down to catch Azzi’s attention. The curly brunette hesitantly lifted her head up, the blue eyes in front of her piercing as she bit her inner cheeks.

As soon as she nodded, Paige exhaled in relief before reaching towards Azzi’s shoulder where her bag hung. In an instant, the blonde swung Azzi’s bag on her own shoulders as she lead the way into the gymnasium.

A couple minutes have gone by in awkward silence as the pair weaved around the gym collecting every trace of equipment Paige happened to conveniently use towards the end of the day. Regardless, she was quick with it, putting twice the amount away compared to Fudd. In Azzi’s defence, it wouldn’t be as tiring had she not worn low heels and tight slacks.

“Alright, I need to count this as an extracurricular,” Azzi finally blurted as she began to feel sweat forming.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh as she continued to run around in circles around her. She heard the younger woman mutter an ‘I’m tapping out’ before walking towards the low stage and propping herself to sit on the edge, her feet dangling while she caught her breath.

She only watched Paige dance around for several seconds before the gym had cleared of any mess.

“Took you long enough,” Azzi joked sarcastically as Bueckers approached her, slightly panting.

“Yeah, well, my helper tapped out before we even got to the fun part, so I was left to fend for myself,” she retorted before plopping herself right next to Azzi who chuckled. It was a comforting silence for a moment before Paige turned her head to face Azzi.

“So, you’re still not gonna tell me why you came all the way down here?” the corners of Paige’s lips slightly tugging as she takes in the woman sitting next to her.

Azzi sighed with her eyes closed. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Depends on who I wanna get to know”

The wheels in Azzi’s head turned. Who cares if you’re gonna shit where you eat? Caroline’s voice rang through her head. But the curly brunette was fighting against it, her indecisive brain simultaneously computing a pros and cons list in a matter of milliseconds in her head.

“Then ask me something else,” Azzi slightly croaked, internally relieved at her deflection.

“You’re hard to please”

“Because you’re not asking the right questions”

Their quaint back-and-forth intrigued the blonde, her jaw shifting as she leaned back on her arms.

“Alright, Ms. Fudd. I’m intrigued. What’s your story? How do you endure years of cold ass Storrs, Connecticut?

“I wish I could tell you, but my hometown’s Virginia. We get chilly, but not Storrs chilly,” Azzi grinned, “Actually, I wanted live away from my parents. I moved out four years ago. We’re good, it’s just…I…well…there was someone…at the time”.

Azzi couldn’t lie her way out of this and now she wished she’d just answered Paige’s first question, her decision-making this time taking a dive as she opened Pandora’s box.

Paige’s eyebrows raised. “Ah, so you were in love?”

“Oh, woah, I wouldn’t say “in love”, just…teenage infatuation, I guess”

The blonde grew more curious. “Hmm, you said ‘at the time’? Not everything panned out the way you wanted, I’m assuming?”

Azzi chuckled. “Yeah, no. It wasn’t a pretty four years. But, I didn’t wanna back down. I loved art and teaching more and my best friend, Caroline, she helped me pick up the pieces. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t…resilient”.

“You say that word a lot, ‘resilient’. It’s nice,” Paige gave a tender smile.

“Thanks, I just needed a reminder, you know?”

The tension that once filled the air around them vanished as the pair slowly eased into each other’s comfort.

Azzi furrowed her brows lightheartedly. “Okay, now I’m curious”.

“Hmm?”

“Any reason you’ve invited yourself over to Connecticut?”

Paige smirked. “How’d you know I’m not from here itself?”

Azzi was taken aback. “I- well- A woman can assume-“

“An assumption could’ve started with a ‘You don’t look like you’re from here’ or a ‘Ever thought about leaving Connecticut?’. Ms. Fudd, the sheer confidence in your question can only make me assume you’ve been stalking me even outside of school premises. Perhaps, online?” Paige’s eyebrows raised, the grin on her face growing more obnoxious as the girl in front of her started becoming a flustered mess.

“I- you’re absolutely w-wrong about that,” Again, Azzi couldn’t tell a lie to save her life.

“Am I?” The blonde leaned forward from her position, her face relatively close, much to Azzi’s liking.

Before the curly brunette could get a word out, the blonde hopped down from the stage. “I’m gonna head out before the janitor complains. Thanks for the help, by the way, Ms. Fudd. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The playful grin remained on her face before she was out of Azzi’s sight, leaving the poor woman paralysed in shock.

I could just end everything right here, actually, Azzi catastrophised before carefully getting down from the stage.

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 2)

Summary: Danny arrives, sees something Concerning, meets Batman, tries not to fight Batman. Nope not going to rogue it up here, no thank you.

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Danny Fenton, John Constantine & Danny Fenton

for context, phenes are letters in Ghostwriting, and you can do necromantic magic with them if you know how

As soon as he's within a five mile vicinity of Gotham, Danny has to stop and deeply consider his afterlife decisions.

PhantomMenace: what the FUCK is wrong with this place.

PhantomMenace: John.

PhantomMenace: I know you know how many generational curses are set in the very foundations. And not the abusive cycle kind.

PhantomMenace: who had the goddamn PATIENCE for this

PhantomMenace: who carves THIS MANY phenes into THAT MUCH wet concrete??

PhantomMenace: we'd have to blow up the whole city to unfuck this!!

PhantomMenace: when I find whoever did this I don't know if I'm going to kill them a second time, or make out with them immediately

PhantomMenace: they've clearly ascended to levels of spite I can only dream of, I've to at least respect that

God's Favorite Whore: For my sake I hope you kill them. Gross.

PhantomMenace: 💚

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

Night time in Gotham is beautiful, even without the view of the stars.

Danny finds himself exploring from the rooftops. Old Gothic architecture spins for miles; spidering out from the tallest buildings are gargoyles reminiscent of what he knows of cathedrals. Below him, the city comes alive in a flurry of motion.

The cars slow to a trickle, but foot traffic picks up. Well-dressed people in their 20s hit the bars, swaying and laughing with their friends. Danny takes note with a smile that they're all armed, and at least one person in each group seems to be as sober as a stone. Keeping safe and having fun.

The night workers hit the streets, and little skinny kids of all ages weave in between bodies like leaves in flowing water. Handing off things Danny can't see to the people on the street corners, laughing and joking and pushing each other, never straying too far to allies or the side of the road. Not ever being without at least one other. It's sad to see they have to protect each other like that, but that's life, and it seems they're living it.

Blob ghosts make unseen mischief. There's a second layer of traffic - blobs spinning a foot in the air above everyone else, catching stray emotions and fat and happy off the ambient ectoplasm. Danny's never seen any blob in a color other than radioactive green, but the ones in Gotham are all different shades of red. He wonders if the curses here might be a factor. And if his condenser will be stained red from now on.

Danny spots something strange the longer he looks. He slips off the edge of the building, walking down its side to the alley below. He slips into partial invisibility to not startle anyone not already looking for him, and peaks out the mouth of the alley.

Shades walk down the streets side by side with the human Gothamites. They give the human-looking ghosts a wide berth, but otherwise no one acknowledges them. He tracks the figures with his eyes, hating the blank look in each of them. He's sure that they're not even properly looking at anything. They go through anyone and everything in their paths intangibly. He sees several people shiver and look around confused, before walking off, visibly more tired looking than before.

Danny unclips his condenser from his belt to check if his dinner's ready. He startles a bit at the unfamiliar red, but shrugs. He's hungry. The blobs are having a blast despite how evil the air is. He should be fiiiine.

Taking a deep gulp, Danny returns his attention to the Shades, wary of what this new behavior means. He quickly does a rough count of humans, and then the strange Neverborns in the street. And oh boy. He does not like how the math is mathing.

In a normal, healthy population, there should only be one Shade per fifty humans. In Gotham? It's nearly one to one. He's never seen or heard of this. Danny wonders exactly how many people get mysteriously sick, or die of "natural causes" here.

Once he gets settled in, he'll have to go looking for the cause. Even in a crime ridden big city this isn't normal.

Danny takes another sip as he tears himself away from the mouth of the alley. He becomes fully visible as he steps into the shadows. He means to float up to the rooftops again, but a dull thump behind him has him zipping around on instinct.

Between him and the exit, a broad shouldered man rises from his feet. At first Danny thinks he's covered in shadows, but as his eyes quickly readjust to the level of light, he realizes that the man is just wearing a long dark cloak with a cowl. It covers his head and half his face, with two white beams of light staring impassively at him. It hurts to look at to be honest.

Danny tenses like a springtrap. John never gave him descriptions of any of the rogues, OR the bats. He doesn't know what he's dealing with right now, and he'd really rather not get into a brawl tonight. Humans don't do that to be friendly.

"Where did you get the blood?" The man demands. His voice is obviously modified to be deeper, but Danny thinks it might be naturally growly and inflectionless, as the man's body language or expression doesn't change.

He doesn't really think before he responds. The question throws him, okay? "Uh? Synthesizer?" Danny shakes his condenser some. It's only half full, so it only sloshes thickly against the sides instead of spilling. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about it, Danny caps it and reclips it to his belt.

He extends a hand to shake. "Name's Dante Nightingale. But people call me Danny."

The incredibly rude man doesn't shake his hand, OR introduce himself. All he gets in response is a minute head tilt that in other circumstances he would find adorable.

He rolls his eyes. "This is the part where you introduce yourself. Like a human."

The man grunts in acknowledgement. After an awkward moment, the man extends a (clawed!) hand from under his cape and grips Danny's own. "Batman."

Danny relaxes a smidge. "Nice. Cool. Heard about you and your Fraid. I'm told you're good people. thank you for not being a sentient shadow here to rob me." He lets go of the man's warm glove.

"Fraid?" Batman parrots, vaguely suspicious. Or curious. He's not sure.

"Um. It's like. Well, found family is the default in my culture, so we got a whole word for it. I didn't want to assume blood relations." Danny explains. "You've got a strong grip. Are the claws part of your suit or?" Danny flashes his own claws playfully.

"The suit." Batman says simply. "Why were you watching people from the alley?"

Danny leans back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth. "Just flew in to town, I don't really know my way around yet. So I've been exploring on the rooftops so no one has the bright idea to mug the newbie." Danny stops swaying and folds his arms over his chest with a frown. "Then I noticed something wasn't right. Well. Other than how cursed you guys are. Actually? Might be related."

Batman's headlights narrow in a very convincing glare, so Danny tries to elaborate. "Shades really shouldn't be literally crawling through the streets. The non-physical, non-sentient psychic vampires? Yeah. I don't know if you can see this, but they're walking around in groups besides and through people. Which. They don't group up, and they don't typically go for crowded places. Shades thrive in privacy. They mimic whatever person accidentally made them, and lure loved ones alone. This whole thing is weird and probably not good."

Batman grunts again, head tilting slightly the opposite way. The little bit of silence lets Danny briefly contemplate if Batman is neurodivergent and not actually trying to be a brooding asshole. The older man's tone and facial expressions are flat, he doesn't seem to pick up on social cues, and he favors nonverbal communication. Danny makes a mental note to figure that out later if they ever meet again.

"What can we do?" Batman asks. Danny shrugs. Technically, it's not his problem unless they can't handle it themselves. "Justice League Dark this, I guess. Find me if they can't help. I'll give it the old college try if you ask."

Batman taps the side of his mask where the ear would be underneath. A quiet sound of static fills the alleyway. Batman full-body flinches at the sudden loud sound in his ear. The older man whirls to glare at Danny. The Halfa nearly chokes under the creepy, suddenly hostile gaze of the pinpricks of light.

"What did you do to my coms?" The man full on growls. The cloak is brushed aside as Batman takes out two throwing blades from his (bright yellow?) belt.

Danny's heartbeat races at the prospect of a brawl. Green light fills his vision and starts to cast a strange glow across the alley. His biology reacts, but his mind is screaming at him to put on the brakes. Do not fight the vigilantes! He's not being friendly! Do not the rogue!!

So he puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah woah woah! I can't control this, electronics just fritz around me! Hold on, just, I'll leave and they should be fine? I need to get back to my hotel anyways. Nice meeting you!"

Without waiting for a response Danny turns ghost tail. Which is to say, he turns invisible and flies through the building in the vague direction of said hotel. He flings himself into the soft, soft pillows, and tries to calm his ass down. No. No fighting. He does not need to be put in Arkham on his first day, or whatever.

Elsewhere, the coms crackle back to life.

"-atman?!"

"Oracle." He confirms.

"What happened? The boys are on their way, what's the sitch?"

"There's a vampire in Gotham."

[spencer-is-someone]

wild kratts is peak tho. That’s where i learned about my all time favorite underrated animal; The pangolin

Was bored so I these when seeing three images look the same so I made these pictures

[rooksamoris]

Riddle’s expression remained serious as he sat beside his son, Lysander, at the dining table. You, his spouse, had pleaded that he help your son study since nothing you seemed to do helped the dear boy, and his teachers were beginning to be less lenient with his inability to stay focused and learn the concepts they sought to teach. 

Your husband had been avoiding teaching his son himself because he worried he would mirror his mother. He looked at his five your old son and just saw himself, sitting there, clutching a pencil in small hands with flushed cheeks and worried eyes. When his son made eye contact with him, he had to glance off to the side and sigh. He was still so adorable, eyes wide and pleading as he traversed through the sea of his father's eyes in search of disappointment. 

Lysander let out the softest sniffle when his gaze met the page again, “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes with his free hand.

It was then that Riddle realized the boy thought he was disappointed. The stern expression and exasperated sigh—poor Lysander believed his father was angry. The redhead’s next actions would be more than enough proof that he would be nothing like his mother. His gaze grew tender and he gently placed a hand over his baby’s head, “There is no need to cry, dear boy. I am not angry with you,” he said, before glancing at the paper.

“It is alright. I will teach you the foundations eventually, this will all make sense,” he reassured, his brows knitting as he began to think of a way to teach this to his incredibly easily distracted son.

Before he could lay out a lesson plan, Lysander spoke up, “I thought you were… you were gonna be mad because I’m stupid… and math is hard, papa…”

Riddle’s eyes widened at the words and he shook his head, “You are not stupid, and we do not use that language in our house,” he began to scold, but then he reeled it back in quickly. Someone must have told Lysander that, but he figured he should wait until his son opened up instead of prying his way into his affairs. He knew how much he hated it when his mother snooped into his journals to control every part of him, “It seems difficult now, but once we are done, it will be clear. I promise. Now, let me show you an example equation.”

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

support me on ko-fi!

also, yes, i headcanon that riddle's kid end up named after shakespeare characters.

[robin-evry]

I have no idea if this has already been done(I assume not since I was scrolling through your posts) but what about a Topaz or Jade!Yuu? Either one is fine!

So if usually when I have to choose between two characters, I usually just do both but if one of the characters has already been requested with someone I'll do the other since there's no one request jade and topaz I'll do both

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐙!𝐘𝐔𝐔 🐖🪙

Topaz is the Leader of the Special Debts Picket Team and high-level manager of the Strategic Investment Department under the Interastral Peace Corporation. A member of the "Ten Stonehearts" at a young age, Topaz's foundational expertise is "debt retrieval." Her partner, the Warp Trotter "Numby," is also capable of keenly perceiving where "riches" are located, ensuring that jobs based in security, debt collection, and actuarial varieties are of no great challenge. At presently they are traveling the cosmos together, seeking all manner of liability disputes that might be affecting the stable progression of the IPC's businesses.

Manages the finance of nrc, always could be seen with a note pad or a clip board calculating the finance of the school for Crowley not to mention help him calculate the school taxes because he's unable to do basic math.

Approaches everything in nrc like a business venture. Whether it's securing better living conditions at ramshackle or negotiating with vargas to lower PE requirements, they always have a strategy.

Constantly takes notes on people, labeling them by "risk level," "investment potential," and "market value" (to their frustration). Not to mention they would occasionally go around the School and calculate the market value of stuff, they are wondering why Crowley keeps some useless artifacts when he could auction it to get more funds for school.

When interacting with other students, topaz!yuu mentally calculates their “value.” “How useful would they be in a future deal?”, topaz!yuu assessment of their friends can be surprisingly accurate like how Riddle is a “great brand ambassador” or how Cater has “untapped influencer potential.”

Sam and Azul would seek their assistants as long topaz!yuu got a cut of the price, not to mention topaz!yuu would buy the most randomized things in Sam shop and resell it online with a higher price for their own personal money and it actually works

At school first opinion of numby was "What the hell is that" which hurt his feelings. Numby could always be seen with topaz!yuu following them around, assisting them with work or school or just for emotional support.

Sometimes when numby disappear and they would bring back treasure for topaz!yuu, this managed to catch the attention of ruggie and he would start to follow the warp trotter to get some treasure for himself.

Topaz!yuu excels at math people would already consider them to be a human calculator and manage to count complex equations within a second. Sometimes when the lessons become boring topaz!yuu would do some brain exercise counting stuff in their head.

Although topaz!yuu appears all business on the outside, deep down, they make investments based on loyalty and emotional connection. They’ll always back up their friends or team members, offering free magical items or advice without asking for anything in return—though they’d never admit it.

Topaz!yuu is like those types of kid who use their resources to trade stuff from other students, like a bag of oreos can be worth a pudding cup and an apple juice type of kid, they could be found trading some of their lunch for better so they don't have to spend extra for lunch.

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄!𝐘𝐔𝐔 🐍📜

A senior manager in the IPC Strategic Investment Department and one of the Ten Stonehearts, known for her cornerstone "Jade of Credit." A cold and elegant moneylender, she is skilled at understanding the human heart, with a personal hobby called "Bonajade Exchange." She's willing to wait patiently for high-value acquisitions and adept at extracting value from seemingly destitute clients.

A puppeteer, jade!yuu is working as a manager for Crowley, leading them to have an upper hand over him so they could manipulate the school towards their own whim.

Do you guys know that one episode of nanno that she rent a room from the school and grants wishes for students no matter how big it is, that's jade!yuu basically but they will always seek for something as equal to value as the wish. They excel at understanding the desires and weaknesses of others, always seeking an opportunity to trade, negotiate, or use information to their advantage.

Jade!Yuu always have a larger plan in mind, both in terms of their academic endeavors and social interactions. They would often see the potential outcomes of situations before anyone else, and their subtle guidance could influence the choices of those around them. Whether it’s orchestrating complex schemes or navigating complicated friendships, Jade!Yuu knows how to play the long game.

They would have a particular interest in setting up profitable ventures, whether it's managing the finances of Ramshackle Dorm, organizing events, or offering magical services that people can’t resist. Their financial knowledge and ability to bargain would make them a formidable opponent in anything involving resources or trade. But In return they always seek as an equal value towards the wish.

Unlike Azul whose wish making could only reach the school grounds, jade!yuu ability to grant wish is much bigger you want your family name to be bigger and sign a deal with jade!yuu and the wish will be granted their ability is on a larger scale. They would act as a manager or consultant for other students, offering tips on everything from enhancing personal style to perfecting their magical abilities. Their network would be impressive, though they keep their cards close to the chest, rarely showing their true intentions.

They could easily be a behind-the-scenes orchestrator, pulling the strings to help others, but always with the intention of gaining something in return, whether it’s a favor, knowledge, or leverage.

Azul would try to crack them but impossible, jade!yuu seems to be able to predict his moves without issues. And when a group of rally students are unsatisfied with the outcome of the deal is trying to beat up them, jade!yuu would summon their pet snake to deal with them. Many rumors say that jade!yuu snake is also an exchange they got.

Just to be warned there will always be a price, jade!yuu would want something that is equal price as the wish you ask for them so when you fall, you will fall hard. A student wishes to be great at everything soon loses dies everything and is forced out of nrc, this is the consequence of their deal.

[bellestarot]

About Your Next/Current Relationship❣️

🎄 Take your time to choose

︵‿︵‿︵ʚĭɞ‿︵‿︵‿

Pile I

I’m getting the message that if you’re already in a relationship, you might be going through a period of sadness. You used to feel happy in this relationship, enjoying your time with this person. Things were different from how they feel now. Are you waiting? Perhaps for a response or an apology from this person? This waiting is affecting you deeply—hoping for a text or a conversation. I see you becoming more withdrawn during this time.

If you’re single, I can tell you that your next relationship will arrive unexpectedly, at a moment in your life when you’re not emotionally at your best. This person will appear, and both of you will need to be patient as you navigate this connection. You’ll have to balance things in your life to build a healthy relationship with them.

This period will require you to work on your emotions, allowing you to open your heart and regain the fun, outgoing nature that defines you. If you’re already in a relationship, I see the need for an honest conversation. Communication is essential for resolving issues. If this doesn’t happen, I foresee the possibility of a breakup.

This person appears to come from a wealthy family with a solid financial foundation, a nice home, and a stable career. However, they are also hardworking and independent, not solely reliant on their family. They are patient, love traveling, and enjoy giving meaningful gifts to those they care about. Quality time is important to them, and they will likely invite you to travel together and meet their family.

Although they have a big heart and enjoy helping others, they can get easily frustrated. They struggle to control their emotions, becoming stressed or crying easily. Despite this, they are very creative, with talents they’ve nurtured since childhood—for example, playing piano or excelling in a math competition.

This person will care deeply for you and express their affection through the time they spend with you. Their friends will also appreciate you, and they will proudly introduce you to the important people in their life.

Pile II

Your future partner is someone who has been keeping an eye on you for a while. This person is already interested in you and knows you, but they won’t tell you directly that they like you. They have feelings for you secretly.

I don’t see you actively seeking a relationship at the moment. You seem okay with it if someone comes into your life, but if not, that’s fine too. In fact, when this person finally shows interest, you may still feel this way. I see you being a bit more withdrawn right now when it comes to relationships and meeting someone new. But this person has a lot of love to give. They are bright, fun, and enjoy talking and making people laugh. It would be a great time for you both to get to know each other, and for them to express how they feel.

However, I see you being very critical of yourself, judging your actions a lot, and not resting. You work hard and do a lot but don’t give yourself time to relax.

If you’re already in a relationship, I see that you keep some things to yourself. You don’t tell your partner about certain feelings or past events, and they are waiting for a chance to improve things between you two. They want to offer a better relationship and quality time together, letting things flow naturally. This person might be more family-oriented and may want to have kids, while you don’t currently think about that, which can create a conflict. You may feel judged, but your partner doesn’t see you as someone who should be responsible for everything either.

This person has a way of making everyone feel at home and like best friends after just one conversation. They will easily grab your attention and reach your heart because they are warm, fun, and energetic. But they can be forgetful or avoid confrontation at times. They love spending time with others and have been judged in the past for treating friends like partners. This approach has led to misunderstandings in past relationships, but it’s because they care deeply for everyone. They have experienced heartbreak and betrayal but have moved on. They work on their mental health to stay strong. I see this person telling their friends that they like you, and everyone already knows. However, if someone tells them that you found out, they wouldn’t know what to do.

Pile III

If you are single, your next relationship will come after you move on from what happened to you. Once you get over that, someone new will appear. This person will be adventurous, fun, and everyone will be 100% in love with you. I see this person showing up at your house late at night, inviting you for a walk. I also see this person sending you gifts and flowers wherever you are. They will be completely in love with you.

This person loves giving gifts and enjoys parties and fun. You might need to be open-minded and not restrict them because they will introduce you to their lifestyle this way.

But you’re a bit different from them. They love parties, while you might be more of a homebody, someone who prefers staying in. You particularly like tarot, but it’s about adapting or respecting each other’s space and living life true to yourself and each other. This person has great potential to be a responsible man and a family man in the future, which is very interesting.

If you’re already in a relationship, the issue is the parties and the social scene. This person going out to see friends and party without you has become a big obstacle in your relationship. Even though you love them, they seem to love the adventurous lifestyle and travel even more. This has caused tension between you two, even though it’s not new to you. It bothers you greatly, and you’ve argued about it before.

This person is not bad; they are actually inspired by their mother. Their mother, who has always been a hardworking woman, has greatly influenced who they are. Because of her, this person has worked since an early age and understands money and the market.

When this person is in a serious relationship, they become very intense, as if it’s the last relationship of their life. They become very focused and can be possessive or suffocating. At the same time, they may show unhealthy behaviors. If you do something that affects their ego, they might start playing mind games, talking to others to get a reaction, or behaving in other troubling ways. Even if you’re in a relationship, they might still engage with other people. Pay attention to these signs if you notice them in someone you know, so you can decide if that person is right for you.

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Hello Sophie ♡

I was wondering if you wanna play a little game by answering this question?

How would you rate the boys ( all the ones you write for ) on how all in / date to marry they are when it comes to dating?

Like 0 is not thinking about marriage at all

Like 10 is - one of their biggest dream is marrying the love if their life

( age doesn't count into it )

Have fun 🩷

how commited is he?

summary: out of 10, how ready for marriage are pedri gonzalez, pau cubarsi, ferran torres, lamine yamal, pau victor, eric garcia, pablo gavi, noni madueke, marc casado, marc guiu, hector fort and kenan kildiz? a/n: some of these were actually kinda hard lol masterlist requests genre: fluff. warnings: commitment/marriage(?) ig lol.

9.5 Pedri approaches love with quiet seriousness. He might not speak often about marriage, but once he’s in, he’s thinking long-term. Loyalty and emotional depth define him, he’d build a life with someone before ever making it public.

8.7 Pau doesn't enter relationships lightly. If he’s with someone, it’s intentional. He’s deeply grounded, surprisingly mature, and already the type to see relationships as a foundation for something lasting.

6.2 He wants to be the “marry my best friend” type but gets distracted by the sauce and his reflection a bit too much. Ferran is all about passion and vibes, but he needs a wake-up call moment (like losing you or seeing you thrive without him) to be like “wait…she’s the one.” Until then? He’s gonna treat it like it’s serious, but without doing the marriage thinking math behind it.

3.5 He’s not unserious, just deeply unbothered by the concept of marriage right now. He’s giving “let’s just see where it goes, you know?” Maybe he'll joke about marrying you in passing like “if you keep cooking like this I’ll put a ring on it” but he’s not building a Pinterest wedding board. Yet.

7.3 Warm, steady, and emotionally honest. Pau strikes a quiet balance; he may not talk about the future constantly, but his actions are intentional, and he doesn’t invest in people he doesn’t envision being part of his long-term life.

9.2 Eric’s a full “when I date, I date to marry” type of man. Like the second he falls, he falls. Hard. He’d be the one to send “goodnight, mi futura” texts unironically. Would definitely buy a ring six months in and hide it in a sock drawer. He wants to build something lasting, and he’s already named your hypothetical kids.

5.5 Emotionally constipated, but a secret hopeless romantic. He’s scared of commitment but also deeply loyal. He’d act like he doesn’t think about marriage but then randomly say stuff like “if we ever had a kid I hope it’d have your nose.” He wants forever, but you’d have to drag it out of him like pulling teeth from a chicken.

4.1 He’s a flirt. He likes the chase, the thrill, the attention. He could become a 10 with the right person, but right now? He’s still enjoying being hot and having options. Not unserious, but marriage is not a thought on his mind unless you put it there.

7.8 Solid, low-drama, loyal guy energy. He’d be the “I want to build something real” type and wouldn’t bother wasting time on something casual. Not flashy about it, not dramatic, but he's got that quiet "I want a forever home and someone to cook with" vibe. Like the golden retriever of long-term love.

6.8 Marc is playful and expressive, but underneath that is a surprisingly sentimental side. He might not lead with talk of forever, but he definitely thinks about it, and he means what he says when it counts.

8.9 Héctor is protective and intentional. He may come off relaxed, but he cares deeply and values commitment. Once he’s in, he’s in, and if he trusts you, he’s absolutely thinking long-term.

10 The most “date to marry” out of everyone. Fully in his love-and-legacy era. If Kenan is with you, it's because he sees you in his future. He’s got that deep, rooted kind of commitment energy. Would marry you in a heartbeat if he knew you were the one, and he’d be loyal like it’s his religion. No games. Just “you and me forever.”