#Business Communication Essentials

[blckbuzinessdistrict]

Black-owned #designerwatch brand, Springbreak Watches. The family is busy over there! Support and check them out in your local Nordstrom, Macys & Belk also.

SPGBK.com

[swtechspecs]

Serv-O-Droid, Inc. CZ-Series Secretary/Comm Droid

Source: The Essential Guide to Droids (Del Rey, 1999)

[legionofpotatoes]

a famous dog who was a national darling here died earlier today and his instagram page started posting ugly-ass genart images in memoriam. maybe violence is the answer sometimes

[quotelr]

Communication is an essential factor in any type of relationship; friend, romantic, or business.

Paul J. Alessi

[messagetojenny]

God. Once again I feel like I have no outside support system. I’m navigating day to day on my own. It would be nice to have some help from someone to talk to

[nmimscustomizedassignments]

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[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

Substack Mastery Book: Chapter 4

Crafting an impactful strategy and adaptable delivery plan to maximize subscriber growth and sustainable business value I will also offer it free on my Substack site, Content Strategy, Development, & Marketing Insights. Thank you for reading, commenting, and sharing. Dear beta readers, thank you for your valuable feedback, which will refine this book and help me create a valuable information…

[productiveandfree]

Using an iPad as an Effective Business Tool

Technology has become critical in running modern businesses. Competition is higher today and you need to stay competitive. An iPad is important for your business progress. It provides multiple functionalities like creating documents, editing, and reading. An iPad is popular, sleek, and easy to carry.

It lets you install a wide range of applications useful for business. You may install marketing, financial management, storefront apps, and more. You can use it to create emails, social media posts, and chats. This gadget connects to the cloud, letting you save your data safely.

Things to do on my iPad

An iPad is built as a versatile document. You can use it to work on projects, do creative work, or have fun. This gadget is useful for playing games, listening to music, or watching videos. You can use it to make telephone calls, send emails, chat, or organize your work. Beyond these fun things, an iPad is a powerful business tool. Here are things you can do with an iPad for business.

Your iPad might have a lot of data like music, videos, and personal photos. It could be your iPad used to work with someone else. When you prepare the gadget for business, you should reset iPad to factory through settings. Resetting it removes everything leaving you with a fresh gadget. You can reconfigure the gadget to include business settings. Get instructions on how to factory reset the iPad to make the process smooth. How to reset the iPad is simple and can be done in less than a minute. Open the iPad Settings. Open the ‘General’ icon and then tap Reset iPad.

Integrate iPad with the cloud

iPad integrates smoothly with many cloud service platforms. This ensures your business documents are available and accessible from any place. The gadget syncs well with other Apple devices like Mac, and iPhone. You can integrate it with iCloud, OneDrive, Google Drive, and more. Many advantages come with cloud integration.

●       Allows you to scale your data storage.

●       Avails data any time from any place.

●       Boosts data sharing with marketing teams and customers.

●       Enhances the safety of your data and financial systems.

●       Frees up space from your iPad and other gadgets.

Install essential apps for business

You can install dozens of iPad apps for business to boost productivity. These are tools that let you automate tasks, communicate, measure progress, and more. For instance, you can install communication tools like Asana, Microsoft Teams, and OneDrive. KPI tools to install include Datapine, Smartsheet, and Datapad.

Create a portable office

You can turn your iPad into a portable office with multiple applications. Programs like Microsoft Office 365 and Google Workspace are perfect examples. They let you create documents, balance your books, store data, and do more. They provide an all-inclusive package for emails, word processors, and preparing presentations. The calendar lets you book appointments, and schedule notifications, and reminders.

Improve communication

Communication is critical for creating lasting relationships and converts. An iPad does more than telephone calls and text messages. You can connect to Zoom or another video conferencing tool and host meetings. Its built-in Mail and Messaging apps let you communicate in real time.

Improve online security

Your gadget is built with strong security features for protecting your data. The Face ID and Touch ID are useful authentication features. Its operating system enables encryption and updates of security features. You can configure these to boost your business security. iPad is compatible with third-party security programs. These programs enhance your security when connecting your iPad to business.

Take notes, create content, and annotate

iPads are excellent for taking notes. The Apple Pencil lets you take notes on the go. You can use the gadget to prepare content for marketing or boosting website engagement. It connects to the internet which lets you research for ideas. The gadget lets you draw sketches, create markups, or share ideas.

Boost your marketing experience

Marketing drives leads, converts, and revenue. An iPad can be your preferred marketing tool. You can use it to create an online store and showcase it to the world. Your iPad lets you prepare marketing content and launch campaigns. You can send push notifications or recommendations to show the latest products. It lets you check your stock levels, update catalogs, and improve your work.

Boost productivity

iPads affect every aspect of users, especially those in business. It is important for managing work, and tasks, and improving wellness. When purchasing the best iPad for small business, make sure it has the best productivity features.

You can use the gadget as a digital planner. It allows you to plan your tasks for quick management. Add management software to improve collaboration. You can use it to improve your wellness and mental health.

 Conclusion

The iPad apps for business let you take your business to the next level. You can use this gadget as a portable office or marketing tool. You can add productivity and collaboration tools to boost teamwork. It is a powerful communication gadget that helps you build stronger client relationships. Choose the use that will work best for your business.

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[thecoochiefairy]

baby phat. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.K word count. blackfem!reader, pregnant!fem reader/kink, drabble, onyankopon, grumpy!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, masturbation, phone/facetime sex, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, kinda aggressive dirty talk, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ my brain is foggy from real life so just wanted to give y’all a lil something to leave you hot and bothered. if i gotta suffer, you do too. love you.

THE SCENT OF CASHMERE VANILLA, COCOA BUTTER AND BROWN SUGAR WAS WHAT YOU USUALLY WOKE UP TO. Unfortunately, that scent was missing within the bed. You sat up tiredly as you took a deep breath, raising your fingers over the smooth swell of your belly—you were now eight months pregnant, and your husband wasn’t home as much as you wanted him to be.

With a sigh, you pull yourself out of bed to prepare for the day. Onyankopon had been in contract with the New Orleans Saints for only a couple of months now. Becoming pregnant was an accident—but spending the rest of your life with him wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You’d practically traveled to every part of the state to be there with him for games—a baby wasn’t too far along after. 

The only unfortunate part of this situation was his absence. With him just being signed, he was around the state with press conferences, practices, essentially in the hazing part of his successes. You were happy for him as you knew this was all he wanted, but you missed him, and so did the baby growing inside your belly. 

Thankfully, you did have the support of his mom, who was there for you as if you were her own daughter. She was there to help you with your daily routine—feeding Ony’s two large Dobermans since she was terrified of dogs, going with you to your ultrasound for the day, and dragging you into every store she saw with infant clothes. You enjoyed your time with her—but you still missed Onyankopon. 

It’s not like the two of you didn’t communicate. You had your ways. Texting when he wasn’t busy, phone and video calls into the night, pictures of daily activities, or all of those options in more…intimate times. It opened up a new exploration of your relationship as you were more shy to the nastier suggestions, but as more time was spent away from him, you’d do anything to show how much you missed him. 

Speaking of, it was your favorite time of the day. Your daily phone call with him was closer to the evening time, the sun beginning to set within the state of Louisiana. He was only a couple of hours away as they were in Mississippi, days away from preparing to play their kick off game against Ole Miss—but it felt like he was across the country at this point. 

You adjust the bow that ties against the halter of your yellow sun dress, silver cross sat between the swell of your breasts and constantly hardened nipples due to your hormones. You were going for a more natural route with your hair, flip-over sew-in under midnight black curls, dragging all the way down your back, framing your flushed and freckles cheeks. 

You back yourself up a bit as you’re seated within the master bedroom, blood red IMAC brightening against your caramel skin, camera reflecting back at you as the call rang. When it connected, you were met with the familiarity of his hotel room—seeing as the room was slightly dim, the TV’s light against his brown skin, full lips even more delectable through the grainy camera. His durag protects his hair, goatee connected perfectly, jawline prominent under his stoic gaze. He was edible. 

You wave, “Hi, baby! Can you see me?”

“I can,” he mused. 

His deep timbre voice was comforting as he greeted, “Hey, my pretty ass baby. Look at you,” His eyes flickered over your face, breasts, and your swollen belly, making your thighs press together, “How you’ feeling?”

You sigh, pulling your hair behind your ear, “I’m okay. You’ like my dress?” 

Your voice was soft, already feeling the tiniest bit insecure as you’d just gotten back into form fitting clothes. You’d cried as your body changed in the earlier months.

Onyankopon smirks, shifting on the chair where his knees spread, “Pretty as fuck, Mama. Bout’ to bust that shit open with all that ass,” he grunts, which makes you giggle as he continues, “I miss you.”

“I miss you more, baby,” you exhale, trying not to make yourself upset, “You need to come home soon. Your big ass wolves that you call dogs are scaring your mom.”

“Oh? Now they’ my dogs. You ain’t say all that when you wanted them,” he retorts, licking over his lips.

Your eyes follow the movement of his tongue as you shift on the chair. He looked handsome as ever. You can’t help but stare at his full lips, the small dimple in his cheek, and the dark hue of his eyes as he leans towards the computer desk, pulling out rolling paper as he prepares to roll a blunt. You weren’t sure why, but it was always the sexiest thing to watch.

You blink as your eyes scan the screen, clearing your throat a bit as you raise an eyebrow, “They’ ain’t drug testing y’all?”

Onyankopon shrugs, “It’s preseason, Baby,” he murmurs as he begins to break down the tree on the rolling paper, “Besides, all I’m doing is smoking. That ain’t so bad.”

“Mhm,” you roll your eyes, “Well you better cut that ain’t so bad habit before our little Pumpkin comes,” you run your fingers over your belly.

Your eyes run across his mouth as he licks over his joint, sealing the end, “Don’t call him that shit. That’s my son,” he grabs for his lighter, “My lil’ man been kickin’?”

“Your lil’ football player has been punting in my damn stomach,” you blow out a breath, “He’s moving down to my bladder. If he shifts anymore, imma’ need a walker.”

Your fingers grip around the cross hanging between your breasts, “…You’re my Pumpkin too, y’know.”

A chuckle leaves Onyankopon as he brings his freshly lit joint to his lips, inhaling as he holds off the urge to laugh. A cloud of gray leaves his lips as he blows. 

“He gon’ have my long ass legs.” 

His eyes flicker up momentarily from the screen, making it fog, “You my pumpkin, too,” he repeats back, exhaling into the camera. 

You didn’t want to interrupt as you watched him—the haze of his red eyes already becoming apparent. He’s sexy. Fuck.

Your fingers absentmindedly trail along your belly, feeling your cheeks become warm as you bring your eyes down. You ask softly, “How was practice?”

"We got a new tight end, nigga think he somebody. But besides that, same ol'. Just drills and shit really,” He banters, shifting forward in his chair as he stares up at you, "You know I'm bored as hell right now, Mama." 

You could see the haze in his eyes grow as he slowly takes another hit of his joint—Uh oh. 

You narrow your eyes, curls swaying over your shoulder, “Oh, am I boring you?”

"You?” 

Onyankopon leans back against the chair, exhaling into the computer. He grins a bit as the camera is engulfed in smoke, "Nah. You could never, baby.” 

You watch him with curious eyes as he shifts in the chair, groaning slightly which makes your mind wander—The only thing you could see was his face, shoulders, chest and what you could assume to be his stomach. He wears a white long sleeve, clinging to his muscular frame. You knew all the tattoos that hid under his top. But something was under the computer table…

You give him a soft, awkward smile. You know how he got when he was high. This was your husband, yet he made you nervous like a schoolgirl. 

You then say, “Oh!” Standing as you search for your purse, ass directly within the camera as you question, “I got the ultrasound photos, baby! Wanna see?”

Your husband hums, low and deep as he says back to you, “Mhm,” You feel his lustful eyes on the screen, “Come show me.” 

Your hands tremble as you search, almost excited for him to see the photos. Or maybe you were just nervous—again. 

You drop the brown Telfar on the side of the desk, it only takes you three steps to be in front of your computer again, holding the black and white printout up to the screen. 

You can hear a faint laugh as Onyankopon murmurs once again, “Bring it closer, girl.”

You fully sit down again, leaning forward as you point your acrylic nail against the sonogram, “See, that’s his little toesss, and that’s his little fingers!” you giggle, “You see?”

Onyankopon’s face breaks out into a smile as he groans slightly, “Goddamn. I lied, he got my fingers. Musta’ got your toes, Mama. Can’t see ‘em too good.”

You hum, “Guess he won’t be too good for basketball then,” you tease.

Onyankopon snorts at that as he says, “Basketball she says— You know what? Just ‘cause you said that, he’s not playin no sport. Imma’ get lil’ man his own studio.”

You giggle a bit at that, “My child ain’t finna’ be no damn rapper. You can kill that thought.”

“That’s ‘cause he’s gonna’ be a singer. Got your pretty ass voice, I know it.”

You roll your eyes, “You’ just flirting, boy. Cut it out.”

Onyankopon chuckles at that, but he doesn’t deny it. His eyes fall back to that serious gaze he had before, a soft tint of red within them.

“You’ got me thinking about you.”

His voice, it’s almost like it’s own way of peer pressure. Your hands run over your belly anxiously as you blink, “Me?”

"Yeah,” Your husband draws out, eyes flickering up and down the screen in anticipation, “Don't play all shy.”

You can see him shift in the chair as he leans back, and his eyes stare back at the screen. You can tell he was waiting for something.

At the same time, your body becomes…significantly warm. Before he was signed, you and Onyankopon had sex almost every single day. You couldn’t get enough of each other, never did. Your mind flashes to those memories, and your thighs rub together a bit. At the same time, the door to the master bedroom opens, allowing you to exhale for a second. 

Gray curls come into view, brown skin and familiar eyes that belonged to your mother-in-law. She held a bowl of food with a smile. 

She walked towards the camera, “Hey, Honey-Bun, you alright in here? I made you some jambalaya—“

She pauses, looking towards her son on the camera as her eyes immediately narrow, “I know your big headed ass better put that joint away.” 

Onyankopon groans as his mother comes into view, “Yes ma’am,” he coughs, hovering a fist over his mouth. He was still high—which you could tell based on his flushed appearance and tone. His mother was very anti-weed, so he always tried to hide it as much as possible. You can see some movement under the table, which you assumed was Onyankopon putting the blunt away.

“Why’ the hell do you think it’s a good time to be smoking, Onyankopon? They don’t drug test y’all?”

Oh god. You knew your mother-in-law could easily begin complaining, and you wish she’d walked in at any other time as you placed a calming palm against her arm.

Onyankopon clears his throat, making his face close to the screen so you could really see his eyes, “Ma—Ma. I’m in the preseason. Ain’t got no games for a couple days. They ain’t doin’ that, they ain’t doin’ all that.”

“Preseason? The ‘hell does that mean? Are y’all playing or not? If you’re not playing then why can't you come back home to check on your mother and your pregnant wife?” She comes closer to the camera, you can’t help but sigh lightly to yourself.

Onyankopon groans again as he leans back in the chair, “Momma, I’m not finna’ get into it with you again. You and Baby know. You jus’ gon’ talk over me if I start speakin’ anyway.”

He can’t help but tongue his cheek momentarily, and your heartbeat increases with just his simple movements—but you’re brought back to reality when his mother speaks up even quicker.

“Are you at least eating? Did you get the care package I sent you? I got all your soaps, and that little teddy bear you had as a baby—you never went anywhere without Mr. Snuffles,” which makes you giggle at the familiar toy, something Onyankopon hated being reminded of.

He mumbles, “…I’m good, Momma, got your care packages. Lawd. Stop with all that…” 

“Thank you for the food, Momma,” you give her a smile, “I’m not super hungry at the moment, do you mind leaving it in the fridge?”

Onyankopon’s mom gives a smile back, “Of course. I’m actually gonna head back home for the night, do you need anything else?”

You shake your head, “I’m perfect. Just gonna’ keep talking to Ony for a little while longer.”

Onyankopon sighs as his mother says her goodbyes, exiting out of the room. Now, you notice his eyes flickering up and down your curves, which makes you squirm under the spotlight. Onyankopon then repeats, “I miss you bad as fuck, girl. You miss me?”

You hate yourself for the emotions that produce randomly at times. The conversation between your mother-in-law and Onyankopon, the way he made you easily giggle, the imagery of his warmth surrounding you but not actually being there—it didn’t feel the best. 

The dark fluff of your cat-eye lash extensions flutter as you nod your head, using your knuckles to lightly swipe your watery eyes as you nod, “I miss you so much, Ony…”

Your husband’s face softens slightly. He hated to see you so emotional due to his absence, and would rather be anywhere else. But you always supported his dreams, and wanted to build the perfect life for your baby boy. He mutters, “Stop all that crying, baby. Wipe ya’ face. You know I’ll be back.“

You shakily sigh a bit, nodding your head as you kneel your face down to let the tears fall that way, “I—I know, it’s just hard sleeping without you,” you sniffle, “Lil’ Pumpkin likes when you rub my stomach to sleep…”

Onyankopon sighs, “And I love rubbin’ your stomach, baby.” 

He then says, “Soon as I get back, we gon’ sleep for a whole week. Ain’t nobody gonna’ bother us. I’m all yours.”

Your heartbeat increases—Onyankopon always had a way to make you emotional without even being near. It also made you somewhat…aroused. 

“I miss you like crazy. I miss ya’ voice, I miss ya’ smell. I miss ya’ pu—“ he cuts himself off before he goes into that territory, which makes your body heat up slightly.

You watch as he brings the blunt back up to the camera, pulling another drag of smoke, the move always so efficient as if it was nothing. His eyes are back to being low—it makes you shift your legs again. He cuts on low background music to play, and a familiar song catches your ears, She Will, by Lil Wayne.

You hum softly, “You love this song.” 

You take a moment to recall why the song gave you such a sense of Deja Vu. But as you remember, you halt.

The memory was at a family event— Onyankopon’s going away party. His family irritated him by being loud, over talking and messy—a black family’s usual antics. He’d managed to sneak downstairs with you to the car for a moment of silence, the two of you smoking, the song faintly playing in the back. You’d…remembered this vividly.

 Your mind glazes over the moans you produced in that backseat, the sound of your skin connecting, your vulnerability, your legs trapped over his shoulders…

Your mind comes back to reality as you’ve been watching him this whole time. Your hand had somehow made its way to your chest…rubbing over your exposed skin, clutching your pendant again. 

“Mama,” Onyankopon murmurs as he brings another drag of the blunt back on camera, blowing the smoke into screen as he spins back to his sentence earlier, “‘Got me thinking about you bad as fuck.” 

He was high as hell.

Your eyes run over his large silhouette as he leans back against the chair, knees spreading out further as he makes himself comfortable, head tilting back a bit as he watches you. 

Your mind wanders again, back to that song—back to that night. Your mind can’t stop. Your head is spinning with the memories, it physically makes you whimper, squeezing your thighs, tugging your pendant fully.

Your husband’s gaze grows in lust as he leans forward a bit, whispering, “Talk to me. Whatchu’ thinkin’ about?”

The hand clutched around your pendant squeezes a bit tighter as you glance towards the camera, “The song…makes me think of that night in the car…” you softly admit, rubbing your fingers over your collar bone, your fingertips bringing you warmth.

 He brings the blunt back on camera again before a stream of clouds leaves his lips, “You miss that night, Mama?”

You nod your head, your entire body now hot. You could feel your nipples poking through your top again, aching in a way that almost becomes painful. Your thighs are so tightly together, as you adjust the seating position, you grind against yourself a bit, making the tiniest gasp pull from your lips.

Onyankopon groans through the screen, and you can hear his voice say, “You in our bedroom?” 

He was becoming impatient.

"Go to it. On the bed," he murmurs, "Hurry up.”

“Too far from you, Ony,” you pout, bringing your hands against your breast, giving a squeeze to them, trying to relive how full they feel.

There's a pause before a deep exhale leaves his lips. His tone goes deep again, "Go."

You shudder as you stand, your legs feeling numb. You tilt the monitor more towards the king sized bed, silky black comforter set along the oversized mattress. You crawl along the sheets, turning towards him again, your knees along the bed as your dress begins to hike against your soft thighs.

His eyes flicker downward at you, and you can feel his gaze run up your smooth, caramel skin. His gaze burns into yours, giving an intense look. 

You hear his voice again, “You gon’ do what I say?”

You nod your head, lightly digging your teeth against the pink of your soft lips.

“Always listen to you, Ony…”

Your man growls, “That’s right, ‘cause you good. You gon’ be good for me?”

Your hands squeeze the flesh of your breast, your nipples never being this sensitive before your pregnancy. You gasp in a soft tone, but the sound is heavier. You nod your head, “Bought something I w—wanna show you…”

You hear his breathing pick up, “Yeah? Show me,” he murmurs. “You look so muhfuckin’ good right now, baby.”

You reach behind you as you pull a toy from under the pillow—it’s pink, silicone, almost looking like glass. Big, just as big as him. 

“Pretty like you, Daddy…”

"Look at that," You hear a deep noise escape his lips before there's a shuffling noise, you couldn't exactly make out what it was—then it was followed by another noise. This one you recognized; the strings of his sweatpants. His dark pink tip slaps along the sculpted muscle of his stomach, practically making your mouth water. 

“You like it?” You ask softly.

 You take the object and graze it lightly along your body, seating yourself fully along the bed. You’re at the most perfect angle to spread your legs.

“Yeah, baby,” he grunts, letting more of his body come into view as he’s in a reclined position. You can begin to see his toned chest come into view when there's some shuffling noises again, his breathing picking up, “Love it.” 

You pull at the string of your dress, letting the halter fall over the swell of your belly, material hanging in between your stomach and hips. You were now bare at the top, hair swaying over your body and face as you shuddered a bit, “They’re starting to fill with milk, baby… sensitive…”

You can hear a deep, deep groan echo in the screen, almost sounding frustrated, “Fuck. You’ playing right now. Put that shit in your mouth.”

You bring the toy up to your mouth, spreading your full lips apart as you let it slide on your tongue, coating it with your saliva. At the same time, you spread your legs, showing off the glistening arousal bedaubed on your pussy. You were wet. 

“Fuck, baby....” he growls lowly, beginning to stroke himself, “Pussy so pretty. I can feel that shit on my tongue. I’m just slurping your shit up.” 

 His voice is rough with desire, each word punctuated by a squeeze of his fist around his thick tip. 

“Get you’ a pillow for your lower back, baby. ‘Know it hurts sometimes.”

You listen, pulling the satin pillow behind you for a bit of support, feeling the small ache in your back beginning to decrease. 

“Comfortable, Mama?” He questions, you nod your head.

“Good. Rub that dick all over your clit.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you imagine his lips dropping kisses against your clit. He’d go from your inner thighs, teasing you. He’d watch as you’d squirm with every suckle of your skin, your entire body shuddering as his hot breath fanned over the hood covering the pink nub, being pulled up by his lips, being kissed by his tongue. You brush the toy against your clit that throbs, spreading your legs a little more as you whimper, lightly dragging the tip in circles on your upper pussy. The sound it makes, your pussy keens.

His hand begins to pick up speed as he pumps through his fist, “You like that, huh? Rubbing this big ass dick all over your clit?” He grunts, his voice strained with pleasure, “Slap that shit on your pussy. Get them’ pretty ass eyes rolling back."

He knew everything about your body. Including the way you’d spasm at this action, so you listened, slapping the heavy toy against your clit, your legs trembling in response, eyes rolling to the back or your head. You groan a bit, head falling back, eyes fluttering before you bring your attention back to your arousal that pools beneath your thighs, pulling your legs wider to show the gummy pink of your pussy. 

The anticipation builds as you tease yourself, circling your clit with the toy, then dipping it inside your opening just enough before withdrawing again.

“Why that shit so fuckin’ wet already?” His jaw clenches, head tilting back, fist rotating on his tip, dragging down every couple of seconds.

Your folds wrap around the toy every millisecond as you slide the outsides of it against yourself, teasing so much that your eyes haven’t stopped rolling back. 

The swell of your belly shifts a bit as you whine softly, “Ony…” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, “Ain’t even put that shit in yet. Where’ my lil’ nasty bitch at? She would’ve been droolin’, dropping herself all on my dick. Just drenching my shit. Quit playing.”

“Right here,” you whimper, nodding your head, digging your teeth back into the plump of your lips. Instead of dipping the toy in to tease yourself, you take a palm to pull one of your legs up in the air, using your other hand to drag the toy towards your opening, separating the aching stretch of your folds as you begin sinking it’s tip inside. 

You’re gasping as you watch it go in, unable to see more, yet you feel every inch swelling your walls, disappearing under the sight of your large belly. 

You whimper, “It’s in there, baby.” 

"Get it all the way in, baby. Bury that shit deep," he commands, pumping faster now, his breathing ragged. You’re dropping it in, inch by inch, your inhale deep as you pull it halfway out, toes curling as you sink it back in, an air pocket gushing as your arousal sops around the pink toy. 

Your eyes are fluttering chaotically as you shudder, “Fuck,  agh—“ you don’t stop, fist brushing over your clit as you’re dropping it down into you.

He’s talking, "You remember when we first met? Couldn’t even handle my fingers. Now look at you,” A low chuckle escapes him, "Now I got you stretching that pussy out. Dick just drop, drop, dropping in that shit…”

His words trail off into a grunt as he quickens his strokes, “You my lil’ freaky ass bitch, huh?”

You whimper, pouting at the way your pussy cries its tears, sobbing out in waves of arousal that pool each time you pull the toy out, painting the pink silicone white. You squeal lightly as its balls slap against the outside of your pussy, the fleshy sound splattering up more of your wetness as you petulantly whine, “Yeah, Ony…”

"That's right, baby. Take that shit like a good lil' slut," he says, voice dripping with lust as he watches you work the toy deep inside yourself, “Rubbing that pretty ass clit while you're stuffed. Fuck, you look so damn good."

He picks up pace, stroking harder and faster as he nears his own climax, “Gonna give you all this fuckin’ nut. You want it?”

“Want it,” you tremble, in and out, the toy’s just going in you at this point, disappearing without a trace, lost in your pussy. You’re just gushing. The sound is like a mouth blowing raspberries into one’s palm, fleshy, nasty.

“Can’t cum without you,” you pout, “Need you….I need you,” you’re opening your mouth, the sob coming deep from your chest, fucking yourself even harder, one leg shaking violently as it’s held in the air, eyes possessed as they’re rotating. You loved these moments—but they were never enough. Not even for him. 

“You don’t need nothing,” He groans, his words coming out more raspy, “Keep that pussy wet as fuck. I’m coming.” 

[idontmindifuforgetme]

23 things I learned in 2023:

Breaking promises to yourself is essentially telling yourself you’re not worthy of commitment or effort.

Listen to people when they tell you who they are.

People put their best foot forward when they first meet you. If they’re already being shitty, it’s likely only going downhill from here.

Self-care isn’t always indulging instant gratification and not doing hard things. I was actually at my most fulfilled when I did hard things DESPITE not feeling like it.

If you’re clinging to other people for fulfillment or validation, you probably don’t like yourself very much.

It’s never the end of the world like we think it is.

If someone wants to walk out of your life, let them. Never be in the business of changing people, even when it comes to changing how they think about you.

Brutally honest communication is everything, but that can also coincide with tactful kindness. Neither is mutually exclusive.

Having a routine makes a massive difference.

Comparison is pointless. No one else has been dealt the same cards you’ve been dealt.

Envy is a waste of time. Instead of being envious of other people, view them as proof of concept.

Self-accountability is important. We are fallible and it’s okay to make mistakes; we just need to own up to them.

Every failure is an opportunity for growth.

Every severed friendship, failed opportunity, lost connection etc etc leaves space for better things to replace it.

We are not tethered to people’s image of us. We are free to change ourselves whenever we please.

It’s not other people’s way, but it’s my way—and that’s all that matters.

Someone denying you love does not erase you.

Piggybacking off the last point—someone not acknowledging the virtues you have doesn’t mean that you don’t have those virtues.

All that really matters are the opinions of the handful of people who truly love you, as well as your opinion of yourself.

Waiting at least 15 minutes before reacting to something. Never trust yourself during the moments when something just hits (learned this the hard way).

Situations are complex and almost never a one size fits all. Asking for advice is okay, but take it with a grain of salt/ultimately follow your own judgment.

Social media isn’t the devil, but scrolling endlessly is. Make an intentional effort to supplant screen time with books and hobbies and friends and tangible, real life things.

We all die one day. None of this is that deep and none of this really matters. Stop taking things so seriously and just enjoy the process 🤍

[cherry-hulu]

— soft bf!mingyu headcanons

warnings: just pure soft and fluff 🖤

BF!MINGYU despite having a buff and muscular build is actually the softest and warmest teddy bear there is.

BF!MINGYU who craddles your head in his arms, gently laying it on his shoulder when he notices you getting sleepy.

BF!MINGYU who always opens your drinks for you no matter the situation; in the middle of a conversation with someone he'd take the bottle from you and open it for you without breaking talk with his friends.

BF!MINGYU who knows your favourite drink is in a juice box so he always makes sures to open it for you and hold the straw for you when you take a sip from it.

BF!MINGYU who always lets you have the first taste of his cooking no matter what. spoon feeding you with his food, patiently waiting for your reaction while you chew on it.

BF!MINGYU who loves serving you breakfast in bed especially after those nights. he'd wake up early and cook for you even with his busy schedule just to make sure you eat.

BF!MINGYU who loves showering you in kisses and giving you back-hugs, loving the way his build can swallow your whole body.

BF!MINGYU who loves spoiling you, always buying you a souvenir from every place he visits.

BF!MINGYU who always sends pictures and videos to you as updates because sometimes he'd be too busy to type.

BF!MINGYU who sends you a voice message telling you about his day when he's in a different country for you to listen when you wake up, not letting the time difference hinder your communication.

BF!MINGYU who exchanges camcorders with you when he's on tour for you two to watch each others videos like a movie when he gets home. cuddling in the couch, blankets hugging the two of you, with your favourite foods in hand.

BF!MINGYU who never hesitates to carry you in his arms whenever your mood sombers or you fall asleep, always giving you a kiss on your forehead.

BF!MINGYU who sits you down on his lap, essentially trapping you in, whenever you two have a problem or after an argument, not letting you go until you're both feeling okay.

BF!MINGYU who's always so protective of you. making you keep your location on when you go out, sending him pictures of the licence plate of the cars you get in, shielding you and putting you behind his back when he sees you're uncomfortable with someone.

BF!MINGYU who's always so attentive to you. watching your every step when your walking on the ledge of something with a tight grip on your wrist, adjusting things to your liking, remembering everything of your favourites and buying them whenever you feel sad, or mentioning the things you love to brighten up your mood.

BF!MINGYU who loves watching you talk or watch things you love. admiring the way your smile reach your twinkling eyes, the change in the tone of your voice when you're excited, or even the little happy dances that you do.

BF!MINGYU who finds solace with you. in amidst the chaos and the screams, every ache, and problem, they all disappear at the mere presence of you.

BF!MINGYU who never thought love could feel this way until he'd met you. who's more than assured that true love exists, because you do.

BF!MINGYU who has everyone's eyes on him, but his eyes only focusing on you. never once leaving since the day it met yours.

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Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 7: Silver Spoons And Butter Knives, Living Hand To Mouth I’m Getting By

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (Here!) / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of Bullying, Suicidal implications, Body harm, Body Horror

The concept of boarding school wasn’t as bad as people portray it.

A boarding school is an institution where students live on the premises while receiving formal instruction, essentially providing both lodging and meals. Unlike normal schools, boarding schools offer a residential experience, often encompassing a wider range of extracurricular activities and a sense of community.

At least, that’s the literal definition she found on the internet. 

When Bobby (with whom she had exchanged phone numbers and yapped the whole weekend through text, and sent her way too many TikToks she didn’t really understand but found funny) had asked her if she was staying at the dorms so they could hang out after class, she suddenly found a ray of hope of getting away from the Waynes.

Which led her to do a thorough research on Wikipedia.

Gotham Academy has been a prestigious, private boarding school for Gotham’s elite. And anyone who could afford it, or had a scholarship. 

Most members of the Wayne family had gone to the academy. Most of the said members were expelled or dropped out of it.

Including Bruce himself.

Which is why she was currently pissed off on a Monday morning as Alfred drove the younger members of the family to school.

“This is bullshit,” She muttered while pouting at the window, arms crossed and legs sprawled out in the passenger seat.

The butler gave her a pointed look, letting her know that she should behave. The young girl readjusted her sitting position with a grumble. Her glare followed the tall buildings and the people walking around the busy sidewalk, passing them by in a blur to those with normal eyesight.

Not for her, thought. Everything seemed so slow-paced today.

It was quite annoying. From the moment she woke up that morning, it had been like stepping into a slow-motion sequence. The curtains of her room moved oh so gently, it almost seemed like they were floating. The water from her shower had stopped for a few moments, and she could even count the drops of the stream that stood frozen in the air before she received a cold splash in the face that almost made her crack her head open again if she hadn’t hung onto the built-in shelves on the wall. Then, the gremlin at breakfast. He seemed to take his sweet time eating his French toast, which was almost disturbing to see how slow someone could chew on his food. It made her sick to the stomach remembering it.

They were short lapses of time. Didn’t last too long, but those moments still managed to unsettle her and keep her on the edge.

“I’m afraid this is something you will have to discuss with your father, my dear.” His voice took her away from her musings, returning her mind to the present.

‘Where was I? Oh, right,’ her anger returning once again.

Just when she thought she had found a way to escape from the suffocating manor, the family had once again meddled with her brilliant plans.

Apparently, she did not form part of the whole boarding school experience. (Well, Wayne didn’t)

Due to the many incidents involving her ‘siblings’ and ‘father’ at the school in their scholarly years, they had gained a rather infamous reputation. This led to taking away certain privileges when a member of the Wayne family was to be enrolled at the academy.

Said privileges were not being able to partake in staying at the dorms through the semester.

(aka. Waynes were banned from the academy dorms.)

“I don’t understand why a sudden need to stay in such facilities.” Damian retorted from his place in the backseat. Still giving her the stinkeye for taking the front seat first (she had taken off while yelling ‘shotgun’ through the halls, making Drake get up from his deep sleep and come out of his room to see what was happening with his sheets all tangled on his legs.)

“Pennyworth makes far better meals, and the beds haven’t been thoroughly cleaned in ages. That’s without mentioning having to share your personal space with a stranger who lacks manners.” That last part made her bite her tongue hard.

‘When the irony is ironing,’ She thought sarcastically.

 “It’s all about the independence and socializing. Who doesn’t like talking to total strangers and getting to know them while also sharing a bathroom?” Her lips were curling in a grin, her tone letting on very clearly what she was referring to.

Damian tutted, harshly crossing his arms while glaring at her. Alfred simply sighed as he pulled through the metal front gate of the academy.

“Since when do you like socializing, Embarrassment?” He remarked on the nickname with a cold glare at the back of her seat. 

And as if she had sensed it, she took off her seatbelt and turned half of her body to the back so she could face him directly. Both of their glares clashed with one another. 

Alfred got out of the car to take out her school bag from the back of the car, wondering to himself if he was truly paid enough to deal with teenagers.

Damian was very much annoyed at her new attitude. It was getting on his nerves how she stood her ground and didn’t flatter. He couldn’t have missed this part of her. He was the son of the greatest detective in the world, and he took pride in his deduction skills. And he had deducted his sister from the first moment they met. Never, in a million years, would she have the courage to act like this. Too insecure. Too weak. Too scared.

She would have had to die and be reborn to be acting like this.

“Don’t act like you know me, Damian.” His name sounded like a curse in the making on her tongue. Her deep, dark eyes stared directly into his own, a glint of something akin to sardonic gone the moment she turned back on her seat and opened the car door.

“You don’t have the right to judge. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”

With that, she stepped out and slammed the door shut, leaving him with words in his mouth.

He could only follow her stomping outside towards Alfred out of the corner of his eye, refusing to turn his face a single inch towards them. She seemed to mutter something to the older man, to whom he put a hand on her shoulder and spoke very gently. 

Her eyes softened, and Damian couldn’t help but be put off by it.

He was well aware that she used grey contact lenses. She always wore them, no matter what. One would think she would sleep while wearing them, but he knew she wasn’t that stupid.

He never wondered why she used them, scraping it off as some odd fashing trend girls her age were into. They just were part of her and he went along with it. Never putting much thought into it.

Now, Damian was putting a lot of thought into it.

He had always known that he was an almost carbon copy of his father. Black hair, facial structure, etc. There was little doubt about his heritage and he took pride in it.

His half-sibling was another story. No matter how hard she tried to dress, act, talk, and move like them, she didn’t seem to fit in. The cold colors and heavy presence that were very characteristic of the Waynes didn’t suit her. 

It had been obvious before, but now it was undeniable to Damian. 

And it was all because of those damned eyes.

He wouldn’t dare to say it out loud, maybe just ponder it to himself, only in his thoughts, but Damian wanted her grey eyes back.

Those grey eyes that would crinkle in worry when he came back upset from a bad patrol night. Those grey eyes that would widen in excitement when she looked over his sketchbook and praised his skills. Those grey eyes that were full of softness and care, asking about how his day was at school.

…Maybe he wasn’t missing the grey. Not really.

‘It doesn’t make any sense.’ His mind hissed, making his frown deepen. ‘Why is this bothering me so much? She is just a nuisance and below-’

“Hey! Bobby! Over here!”

Her shout made Damian snap his head towards the car window with a snarl. Which slipped down slowly as he took in the scene happening outside.

She was waving her arm over her head quite fast towards someone. A guy who was smiling way too much for his taste (it almost made him turn away in disgust, but he fought against it), as he moved towards her with a jump in his walk. He looked like an overgrown golden retriever, wearing the academy uniform.

What happened next made Damian’s blood go cold and hot at the same time, his nails sinking into the fabric of his clothes, and his lips pressed tightly.

Because that guy dared to come close to his sister and pick her up in a hug while twirling her around.

Her bright laugh as she was put down, quickly jumping into a conversation with the big oaf while patting down her now wrinkly uniform, made his stomach twist into a feeling he couldn’t quite place yet.

The warmth in her eyes had Damian bite inside his cheek, chest tight as she began to walk away with the guy, with a quick goodbye to a smiling Alfred, who had begun to go inside the car and pull away from the school grounds.

The young boy’s stare didn’t move away from the pair. Not until he lost them out of sight due to the distance.

Who did that guy think he was?! Coming so close to her and acting so touchy with his sister.

Was he a friend? No way. She didn’t have any friends. He was sure.

Was he?

Was he a boyfriend? Ridiculous, there was no way she would have hidden something like that from the family. She wouldn’t.

…Would she? 

What else had she been keeping quiet? What else didn’t he know about her? When had she changed? Had she even changed? Was she always like this and he just came to notice? When she grew tired of his prickly nature and sharp words? Did he lose her affection? Was he too late?

Did he lose her without even knowing?

‘No,’ He thought, fingers curled into fists by his side as he gave a glance to the smaller view of the academy through the window.

‘Something is wrong here.’

‘And I will find out.’

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The academy was huge. It had halls over halls and stairs over stairs. An old smell stuck on the stone walls that gave the building an even more mystic flair, as if the gargoyle statues on every corner of the gate halls weren’t enough. It even had tall stained glass windows that gave a view of the huge campus: the main fountain, the track field, the outdoor gym, and many other places.

It was by pure miracle that she didn’t end up lost. But that was mostly because Bobby would drag her by the back of her school vest whenever she wandered off.

She was very thankful for that, since her ghost companion was not here today to guide her.

Wayne said that she would stay at the manor for the day, something along the lines of that she should experience the full school experience without her help (which screamed bullshit but she wasn’t going to fight her on that. If she was a ghost and had the choice to not go to school, she would also do the same) and trying to find any clues for their small quest.

So now, she was walking by herself for the first time at a school. So exciting, right?

“-and then the coach said I could play in the next game if someone hurts themselves. Which is not bad, but I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to get hurt just so I can prove myself as a player, y’know?”

“Aren’t you here because of a scholarship? Don’t you need to play to be able to stay here?” She asked the stressed boy, who had been talking about this for the past few minutes as they walked towards their third class of the day.

Bobby was from New York, and he had taken a sports scholarship in the academy this very year, so he could get into Gotham University to study accounting. Just like his father, who was a bank accountant back at home. 

He formed part of the baseball school team and had been on the bench since he got inscribed into the academy.

Leading to his sudden stress of not having the chance to prove himself.

“Poor athletic performance can lead to losing the scholarship, so yeah. If I don’t play, I could lose it.” He quoted with his shoulders down, a deep sigh leaving his lungs as she patted his shoulder in a small show of support.

They had gotten along quite fast. Probably because Bobby had been the first open person with his thoughts and feelings since she woke up in that nasty pool. 

No underhanded comments. No pushiness. No expectations. Always asking if what they were talking about was okay. If she was comfortable with anything. 

It was a breath of fresh air, and she felt great hanging around him.

“What if I help you out with practice? I know jackshit about baseball, but I think I can throw some balls so you can practice swinging?” She offered with a shrug as they went into a half full classroom.

Bobby perked up with a huge smile and put an arm over her shoulder, slightly moving her side to side. “Please, and I will buy you ice cream every time after practice.”

That made her snort and shove him off of her playfully by pushing his face away with her hand, making him guaff and laugh.

“Personal space, jeez,” She said as he sat down on the second table and moved a chair back so she could sit beside him.

As he muttered his apologies, she couldn’t help but feel somebody’s stare on her back.

Just when she was gonna look over her shoulder, the bell rang, and everyone took their seats. Conversations quieted down as students began to pull out their books without a second thought.

Following everyone’s lead, she put out her history book with a sigh and kept her eyes downcast.

Now, there were many different stares and murmurs in her direction. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a few classmates whispering to each other or staring openly at her. 

‘Yeah, that ain’t gonna fly,’ she thought, twisting her head to give her classmates a dead stare that had them gasping and looking in different directions while pretending they were busy with their phones or books.

“That’s weird,” Bobby’s voice took her away from her successful intimidation. “Professor Jones is usually here before any of us.”

The girl shrugged, leaning back on her chair while she brought one crossed leg on the seat as the other bounced against the floor. “Maybe they got stuck in traffic or somethin-”

The classroom door slammed open, taking all the attention of the students and making the room fall into silence.

A man stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his steps heavy as he walked towards the desk and put down his brown leather handbag on the chair and a pack of old-looking cigars inside one of cabinets. 

He didn’t spare a single glance at them, picking up a piece of white chalk and beginning to write on the chalkboard.

He had a heavy build, like the ones that those wrestling guys on TV have, judging by how his shoulders and biceps stood out underneath his dark leather jacket. Some of the girls and a few other guys were staring intensely at his tight jeans, showing off his sculpted legs as well. 

What stood out more for her was his hairstyle, spiked on both sides of his black hair.

Once he finished writing on the board, he clapped his hands to shake off the chalk on his palms and turned around with a grunt. A severe frown on his face as he looked over the quiet students.

“Your professor has taken a sudden leave for the rest of the semester.” His gruff tone had people straighten up and glup loudly.

Bobby exchanged a quick look of confusion and uncertainty with her.

This man didn’t look like the type of person to give a history class.

“You may call me Teach or Mr. Munroe. None of that formal stuff. Whoever calls me Professor will give ten laps on the track field, am I clear?” He almost snarled the last part. 

Everyone nodded.

The man nodded and sat on the corner of the desk, crossing his arms. His tag necklace glinted with the movement as he pursed his lips in distaste once he saw the books sitting neatly on the desks.

“Now put those books away. We’re learning real history from now on.”

Some students muttered in confusion while a few others cheered as they put the books back in their bags. Bobby almost scrambled and rattled the desk as he took his book away, which made her snort a laugh and put her book down.

As the class continued, bustling with excitement over the new mysterious teacher and his unconventional method of teaching history, she had forgotten the odd stare she felt at the very beginning of class. It had simply slid off her mind.

In the back of the classroom, a guy with golden curls and clear eyes didn’t take his gaze off of her for the rest of the class.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Bruce wasn’t expecting any visits this early in the day.

He had recived plenty of calls from Dick, trying to check on him and see how the investigation on the case had been going but he didn’t pick them up. Tim had gone to stay at the Titans’ tower, claiming his sleep schedule was messed up and staying at the manor wasn’t helping keep him focused on the case (Bruce had the fleeting suspicion that Conner had something to do with that decision.)

He was more than sure that everyone was clear that he wanted to be left alone at the moment.

But Jason couldn’t give two fucks about what Bruce wanted.

The past Robin had parked his bike by the Batmobile, leaving his red helmet hanging by one of the handles of his vehicle. Sauntering towards the concentrated detective, who was sitting in front of the main computer and surrounded by many documents and files both on the screen and on paper.

“You look like shit.”

Bruce only switched the documents in his hands without lifting his head.

“Gordon told me about the bodies.” He answered, a cold tone in his voice.

Jason threw himself on the nearest chair, legs spread as he stared at Bruce’s back with a smug air around him. 

“Jealous much?” He snarked. “That I got to them before you did?”

He was pushing his buttons. 

Jason wanted to see how far he could get. 

He was hoping for a fight, that way he could at least calm down the fury still running in his veins.

“You left them headless, and Gordon is still looking for their fingers, Jason.” Bruce hissed, finally turning around to glare at the guiltless man.

“They had it coming.”

“That was execution, Jason. It’s not how-”

“I ain’t one of your little robins, Bruce,” Jason retorted, leaning forward with his fists curling and gaze flashing green. “I did what you should have done the moment she was attacked.”

“There wasn’t enough proof yet-” The older man argued back, making Jason scoff and get up from the chair harshly.

The outlaw began to roam beneath his jacket, taking out crumbled files and dumping them over the keyboard of the computer. As soon as it hit the surface, pictures and documents fell out of it onto the ground and the desk.

“Take a look at your precious proof.”

Bruce took a moment before picking up a few of the pictures that had fallen on the floor. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened when he realized what the image showed.

It was from a surveillance camera. All the pictures were from different cameras around the city. The school grounds. The city parks. The mall. 

And even from the abandoned public pool.

In all of the pictures, she was there. Getting pushed around. Harassed by the same four guys. He could recognize that they had the same uniform as her from the academy. Maybe seniors, since they easily towered over her. 

The ones from the school contained different scenarios. Getting a phone flash shoved right in her face. Shoved down the stairs. Pushed on the school fountain. Yanked by her school bag or clothes. Getting too touchy with her, to the point of it being visibly rough.

One of the pictures showed her running in one of the parks, face blurred in panic as she looked over her shoulder at the boys trying to catch up to her.

Another one showed all five of them at the pool. Her on the ground, holding her head as it bled. Two of the boys were crouching down to hold her down while the others lifted a bloody brick.

He slammed the pictures down with a shuddering sigh. Throat tight, cold anger sinking from the tip of his fingers.

How long had this been going on? For how long had she been keeping this quiet? Why had she kept it quiet? Why didn’t she say something?

‘Had she said something? Did she say anything about it?’ His mind came on empty as many questions surfaced.

All those times he had turned her away, her knocks at his office door, and her silent voice asking if he was too busy. Always shutting her down, dreading to see her face and find old ghosts staring back at him. 

Was it right there? Did she reach out just for him to turn her away? 

Bruce felt a burning sensation behind his eyes.

“The documents are the transcripts of what I managed to get out of them on record.” Jason’s voice sounded far away.

Did she gather up the courage to come to him, and he gave her his back?

“Sick bastards, the lot of them,” Jason spat. “They had been tormenting her for years.”

Did she feel by herself in this? Nobody willing to listen? No one to trust?

“It went on from simply things. Spreading rumors about being into witchcraft and stuff. Saying that she would curse people with her bad luck if they came near her and odd shit like that to isolate her.”

How many times did he even talk to her? How many chances did he allow her to have to tell him about this?

“Then it moved to more physical stuff. Shoving, pushing, typical asshole stuff. Did you notice any bruises on her when she came from school?”

Bruises? What bruises? She was always wearing long sleeves, claiming it was too cold in the manor.

“You did notice, right? They said that it got ugly plenty of times.”

Long sleeves. Even when it was hot out. She always wore them. How could he never piece it together? How many bruises did she hide from Him?

“Bruce? Did you-”

His daughter. Bianca’s child. With long sleeves. Bruises. From that filth. How many? How many times was she hurt? How many times did he not notice? Gods, did she also- Had she also done it to herself? Had she felt there was no other way out of the lonesome existence he had put her into? That he was the one to inflict that on her? That would explain her current attitude. Her anger. Her glares. Her snarls. How could he ever blame her for acting out when it was all on him? Only himself to bla-

The sudden throbbing pain in his jaw snapped him out of his thoughts, making him stumble back as he looked at a fuming Jason with a lowered fist.

“No,” His glare was agitated, chest heaving, and teeth in a snarl. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself.”

Bruce took a sharp breath, his gaze lost as the sharpness of Jason’s words cut deep into his throat, making him unable to utter a word.

The younger man pointed a shaking finger at him in anger, taking steps closer towards the shocked man. “Either you fix this and admit you failed her, just like you failed me,”

Jason got up in his face, fist hitting against Bruce’s chest with a shuddering breath. Eyes blazing a toxic green, staring right into his grey ones.

“Or I will make sure that she turns out just like me.”

With that, Jason turned around and stomped to his bike. The engine roaring to life as he took off from the cave without giving him a single look back towards the currently shocked, quiet man.

Bruce then sank to the floor, hands tangled on his hair strands as he took deep breaths. Mind echoing with many words and questions.

But he could only choke out a few words to himself and the air.

“Oh, Bianca, I fucked it up to hell and back, didn’t I?…”

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The piano room was too silent.

Ever since Cassandra set foot in the manor, the piano room had always been filled with contained noise. The keys echoing down the halls, a soft melody that made her skin embrace the foreign warmth of a ballad repeated over and over, day by day.

She hadn’t heard a single note in the past week.

It made the air in the manor heavy and constricted, the halls darker, and the silence almost unbearable.

Cassandra didn’t plan to pass by the piano room. Her feet just led her wandering steps towards the halfway-opened wooden door. The creaking made goosebumps break out on her skin.

The curtains were closed, and no natural light entered the room. Just a few lamps that flickered every once in a while and a very cold sensation covering her when she stepped inside.

Her legs guided her to the untouched piano. A hand passed over the worn keys, feeling a thin veil of dust under her fingertips.

A shard of guilt stabbed right through her stomach.

She had gotten exactly what she wanted…

Silence.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

Call it pettiness or whichever useless feeling people came up with, but Cassandra was done with all the noise that she made.

It's always the same song. The same melody. The same lyrics.

She was tired of it.

She stood by the door, staring directly at the young girl who didn’t seem to notice her as she continued to sing that ballad over and over.

“If I can’t reach you, let my song teach you,” the younger girl sang softly, eyes closed as her fingers played smoothly over the keys.

Cassandra clenched her teeth. 

She wanted silence.

“All you need to keep our love alive,”

She was tired of her playing.

“If I can’t hold you,”

She was tired of her.

“Remember what I told y-”

“Could you keep it down?”

The girl startled, smashing the keys and making an awful sound. Both of them cringed at it. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” She tried to apologize with a stammer as she stood up, stumbling and fidgeting fingers.

But Cassandra didn’t let her finish.

“You don’t know any other songs?” she questioned.

“Not really. My mom only taught me this-”

“Then why play at all?” She didn’t understand. It was useless to know just one song on the piano. A waste of skill and talent, if she were honest. It didn’t make any sense.

The girl took a sharp breath, hands wringing with the hems of her sleeves and fingers. “It’s an important ballad. My mom used to say it was a protec-”

“It’s too loud. Keep it down.”

Cassandra didn’t care about the importance of the song. She just wanted silence. Her ears were ringing, and she could feel a headache coming on if she heard another keynote from the piano.

They stayed quiet for a moment. A slow nod from the younger girl was answer enough for her.

Cassandra turned around and left.

She had blessed silence for the rest of the day.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

That happened years ago. She still played the song, but kept the door closed and put heavy curtains to muffle some of the noise. It still managed to slip through, but Cassandra didn’t really care as much anymore. It had blended into the background noise of the manor. 

It had become part of their daily life. Something that just fitted right in.

And now that it was gone, the absence of it had been loud.

Such a loud silence.

She didn’t like it.

Cassandra hummed to herself, looking around the room one last time before walking outside into the. Leaving the door open behind her.

Maybe she could ask her if she could play again after she came from school? It wouldn’t be too much to ask of her. It wasn’t like the younger girl had done a lot around the manor lately. Just stay in her room all day and night, only coming out to eat and talk with Alfred, and then just go back to her-

‘If I can’t reach you…’

Cassandra came to a full stop at the end of the hallway.

The piano played slowly inside the room.

‘Let my song teach you…’

Her chest became heavy. Throat tight, as if cold fingers wrapped themselves over her shoulders. A wet sensation was sinking through the fabric of her shirt, making shivers go down her spine.

The voice was like a whisper, only for her to hear.

“Am I too loud now?” Cold lips whispered in Cassandra’s ear.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra only managed to see a tangle of wet, dark hair and a bloodshot grey eye with blood dripping down a side of her deadly pale skin.

When she finally got the strength to turn completely around, the hall was quiet. Not a single echo or resonance of the keys was heard. 

Cassandra patted herself down quickly, shaking away the sudden cold over her skin. She felt over her shoulders, trying to find any wet spots on her shoulder or near her ear and back.

There was no trace of it.

She left the hall quickly, deciding to put this on the back of her mind as a headache invaded her head.

The lights flickered in the piano room, the door creaking closed by itself.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“I wasn’t expecting to like history that much.”

It was already past three in the afternoon, the classes had barely been over a few minutes ago.

But Bobby had already dragged her through the halls towards the baseball field so he could practice some pitching and bat swinging. As he had explained excitedly over lunch to her, shortly after Mr. Munroe’s class. It would be just like playing catch, but with some real damage on the side.

She could play catch! She remembered playing it with Billy before!

And with a white haired man.

And by herself, oddly enough…

“I guess Mr. Munroe just knows his stuff,” Bobby suggested, dodging a few students who walked in the opposite direction from them. He then grinned, “You could even say he lived through it with the way he talked about war stories.”

“He can’t be that old.”

“Just saying. I mean, how old could he be?” He quipped with a shrug.

She wheezed a short laugh. “Can’t be older than the Great Depression.”

Both of them were wheezing as they stumbled down the stairs, shoving and hitting each other on the arms and shoulders. That gained them a few odd looks, but they didn’t notice it at all. Too busy fighting to stay upright and keeping air in their lungs.

They made their way through the front doors of the school, taking the outside route but still inside the school grounds to the sports field.

“He has such a stern air around him, too. He kind of gives-”

“Please, don’t even go there.” She pleaded with a hiss. But Bobby only began to whisper loudly to her.

“Hey, everyone was looking at him like a piece of meat.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

“Oh, please. You totally looked.”

“Did not.” She denied with red ears.

Bobby looked way too smug. “Liaaaarrrr.”

She shoved him, making him burst out laughing as she stomped faster and a couple of steps ahead of him, ready to take a corner.

To which she instantly froze on the spot with a wide-eyed look.

Bobby took notice of her sudden change, still laughing as he looked over her shoulder. “Hey, what’s-”

She quickly pushed him back until they were back to back with the corner wall, away from the view of the hall. Her hand gripping his vest with white knuckles as she looked carefully over the edge. Holding back her breath, cursing to hell and back the person standing by the front gate.

Dick Grayson was leaning against a expensive sports car, looking at his watch every five seconds when he wasn’t looking around the premises and between the groups of students walking around.

‘The fuck is he doing here?!’ She shouted in her head as she bit her tongue.

She had written to Alfred that she was going to stay for a longer time to hang out with Bobby. Why was the touchy asshole here? He was supposed to return to Bludhaven yesterday and give her some peace and tranquility!

“Um, you good?” Bobby muttered, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. She quickly let him go and apologized.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “It’s my, ugh, brother.”

That last part was said between her teeth. Bobby frowned at that. “I guess you don’t get along, then?”

“Not exactly.” She remarked with a wince, giving a quick glance back towards the gate. He had moved closer.

That wasn’t good.

“We gotta be quick,” she urged, pushing Bobby back slowly as he let her guide him.

Before they could take off without catching too much attention, someone decided it was the right time to yell her ‘last name’.

“Wayne!”

The duo snapped their heads forward, towards the male voice that echoed through the hall. Her eye was twitching in annoyance.

A guy with golden curls and a snobbish air around him approached them with decision and fists curled in fists. He looked furious, and even then she could appreciate his handsome features. 

He looked straight out of a magazine, to be completely honest.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed in her face, fuming.

If she weren’t in such a hurry, she would have given him a few choice words. But she really needed to run.

“Office hours are closed at the moment, sorry!” She stated, pulling Bobby deeper into the hall behind them. He looked with wide eyes between the three of them.

“Suddenly got a sense of humor?” The guy chided with a roll of eyes, following her steps forward. “Where have you been?! Did you forget about practice?! We have the damned recital in two weeks!”

“Listen,” she fretted, eyes bouncing around to make sure Dick wasn’t nearby. “Right now is not the time to discuss this. I gotta-”

“No, you and I made a deal.” He claimed with a hiss. “I help you with your recital and you-”

“Hun, what is going on here?”

The cold tone made the three teens look at the tight-smiling man who stood beside them. His arms crossed over his chest with his head tilted to the side, blue eyes staring directly at their hands.

Now that she noticed, the two boys had taken hold of her arms while standing between them.

It stayed quiet for a bit. Dick smile becoming tighter and tighter.

‘Fuuuuucckkk-’

“Who are your-”

She didn’t even let him finish. Her legs moved before she could even process it.

It all happened too fast.

She had taken off running, dragging with her the still startled boys down the hall and leaving Dick behind with the words in his mouth. The man also looked caught off guard, yelling after them as he began to run after them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck-” she repeated over and over while Bobby and Goldielocks shouted at her.

“Unhand me! You’re ruining my shirt!”

“Take a left! Take a left!”

Without thinking about it too hard, she listened to Bobby and took a sharp left. Shoes squeaking as the three of them almost slammed against a poster board, before taking off again. 

They took several turns, with mixed shouts and yells between all of them. Mostly with Bobby yelling directions and the other guy screaming in her ear about going too fast.

It all came to an end when all three of them ran over someone.

Well, more like they slammed solidly against someone and crashed to the ground.

They became a tangle of limbs and curses. Bobby was face-first on the ground, complaining about the heavy weight, trying to lift them off the ground but too tired to do so. The goldilocks was cursing while swinging his arms and legs around, flailing like a stray cat. And lastly, the young girl who lay over the two of them with a manic grin on her face and laughing to herself.

‘That felt soooo good!” She gushed as she laughed breathlessly. 

It felt so right. Running like that felt so right. She had to do it again! Her heart was about to burst out in excitme-

A gruff grunt made all of them fall into silence. Three heads looking up with a gaping expression.

Mr. Munroe stood before them with a crushed cigar by his feet. An annoyed frown in his face that made them gulp at the same time.

“Drake. Worthington. Wayne.” The teens looked at each other with pale faces.

“Detention. Now.”

…That could have ended worse, to be honest.

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's Note: The gangs all here! Finally got to introduce Maximoff's core friends! And so much happened in this chapter too! I had so much fun writting it, you guys have no idea. And logan is now in the plot ( I will shove my Storm x Wolverine agenda down your throats and YOU WILL LIKE IT-) Let me know what you guys liked, theorize or go and scream in the asks. I love reciving asks and answering them💖💖 Lots of love and hugs, GG✨

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr @im-so-goddamn-tired @lovebug-apple

Bonus Memes:

[cryptotheism]

Tell us about the wellness to fash pipeline tho

Here's a recent piece from the guardian on wellness communities and Qanon, so don't take my word for it.

"Wellness" is not just alternative medicine, it is essentially a theory of the body which posits if something makes you feel better, you are better in some meaningful way. I would argue it one of the most commonly held nonreligious magical beliefs in the modern world.

Wellness as a concept has its genesis in the 1950s with "workplace wellness" programs, a sort of budget alternative to offering employee healthcare benefits. This was an era soaked in itinerant business preachers offering classes on things like "hypnosis at a management level" and "yoga to improve leadership abilities". I am exaggerating for effect, but not by much.

The capitalist medical system regularly abandons people. We've all heard stories of profit driven pharmaceudical companies holding the ill hostage for extreme markup on life-saving medicines. People have real, legitimate, reasons to mistrust medical professionals.

Let's say you have chronic pain, and everything your doctor offers you is either ineffective, expensive, or addictive. You are desperate for literally any release, so you start looking into other solutions. You will find an OCEAN of snake-oil salesmen willing to sell you "the secrets doctors don't want you to know."

What is frustrating, is that pain is actually partially psychological. Some wellness techniques may have an actual, medical, benefit on some patients. The worst thing a conspiracy theorist can have is a point. So now you actually do kinda feel better, and you have a sense of loyalty to the grifter selling you 300$ Sumerian Cock Oil Pills. These people are the core of the wellness industry. They are the examples that everyone else points to and says "Well it worked for them!"

Reactionary thought blooms in environments like this. If the medical industry can't be trusted, what else can't be trusted? At any given time, you are two clicks away from "vaccines cause autism." Three clicks away from "Cavemen were 15 feet tall because they only ate meat." And four clicks away from "The medical industry is controlled by The Jews to drain our wallets and keep us sick." Echoes of Nazi attitudes towards German-Jewish doctors are a common backbeat.

Wellness itself is relatively harmless, (compared to the things it is adjacent to) but it acts as a sort of idealogical airport that exposes the curious to a deluge of potentially radicalizing communities. The longer you spend in communities like this, the higher the chance you'll come across something that meshes perfectly with your own biases.

If y'all wanna learn more about wellness and pseudomedicine grifters, I highly recommend the podcast Maintenance Phase.