- Macnult
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i leave home to study in a martial arts monastery. it’s not a fantasized escape or some form of soul searching — i am honing my skills. my knuckles are like split pages for every punch i’ve learned. my kicks are as powerful as they are deliberate. i can breathe.
it’s the middle of winter. i leave the martial arts monastery and return home. nobody is there. an hour goes by and i hear my dad pulling up into the driveway. he steps out of his car and notices something in the front yard. he’s astonished, carefully adjusting his glasses while gawking in amazement. before him stands a flawless hand-punched ice sculpture of me and my waifu
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Nov 26, 2020 08:56
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