#25 without even studying

[popcorn-plots]

Me: I got a 25 on the ACT!

Mom: it won't get you into BYU, especially with your math grade the way it is.

Me: I have a 3.7 GPA, and I can always retake the ACT?

Mom: you're going to need a really good admissions essay if you want to get into BYU.

Me: thanks, mom.

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

reading stuff about how many hours' work postgrads are expected to do each week tends to freak me out until i go look at what the same universities say for undergrads and then i'm like. oh yeah i didn't do that either and i still got a first so we're fine

[satocidal]

Fuck my life because 😃😃😃

[mw00nie]

you always knew you had a thing for older men.

It wasn’t just the salt-and-pepper stubble or the slow, practiced way they carried themselves. it was the stillness. the grounded energy. the calm. like nothing could touch them. like they’d been through hell and came back clean, sharper for it.

nanami kento was the embodiment of that.

you weren’t supposed to end up in his bed. it started with drinks after a shared mission, a conversation that lingered longer than expected. you were tipsy. he wasn’t. and yet he watched you like you were a puzzle worth solving. carefully, patiently, without a single wasted glance.

you’d had sex before. enough to know what you liked. enough to know that most guys your age didn’t really care about what that was. they rushed. they fumbled. Some were sweet, but rarely satisfying. even the slightly older ones, 25, 26, still had the attention span of a squirrel and the emotional intelligence of a wet sock.

but nanami?

nanami touched you like he’d studied you. like he had time. like he didn’t need to prove anything because he already knew he could ruin you. and would. he took off your clothes like unwrapping a gift he’d waited patiently to open. every touch was intentional. every kiss a quiet promise.

you thought you were prepared.

you weren’t.

his mouth on your neck, your chest, between your legs. devastating. the kind of slow burn that made you forget your name, arching into him with a gasp so raw you almost felt embarrassed. until you looked up and saw the way he was watching you. focused. like he needed to see what he did to you..

you expected him to be good. he was older, refined, deliberate in everything he did. from the way he sipped his whiskey to the way he looked at you, like he could read every need you hadn’t voiced. But this?

this was beyond anything your imagination had dared to stretch toward.

you're on your back, legs spread and trembling over Nanami’s shoulders, body pinned to the mattress like you were meant to be there. like he built this exact moment out of patience and control and years of knowing exactly what he was doing.

his cock stretches you open with a slow, thick thrust that makes your spine arch off the bed. he’s not fast. not frantic. he moves like a man who knows he doesn’t have to rush, because you’re already falling apart under him.

“good girl,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, as if he’s rewarding you for every helpless sound you make. “you can take it. i’ve got you.”

and you do. you take him. inch by devastating inch. because you can’t not. he fills you in a way no one else ever has. deep. heavy. the kind of depth that forces a raw, gasping whine from your throat with every stroke.

your nails claw weakly at his forearms, the only parts of him you can reach in this position. he’s got you folded open, helpless, a mess of sweat and slick and trembling limbs beneath him. his hips grind slow, controlled, like he’s studying how each angle wrecks you.

“too much?” he asks, and it’s maddening how composed he sounds while you’re unraveling like silk in his hands.

you try to answer, but nothing comes out but a high-pitched, wrecked little moan. your head tilts back. eyes flutter shut. brain static.

he leans in closer, the weight of him pressing into you deliciously, lips grazing your jaw. “words, sweetheart.”

you manage a shaky, whined: “don’t stop. please. don’t stop.”

his lips curve into the faintest smirk against your cheek, and suddenly his thrusts get deeper. not harder. not faster. just…more intentional. perfectly timed to make you feel every ridge, every drag of him against that sensitive spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.

your vision goes blurry. your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. And then it happens: Your brain short-circuits.

everything goes white-hot, your body locking around him with a desperate cry you barely hear. your climax rips through you with a sharp, clenching heat that leaves you breathless and boneless, twitching beneath him as he fucks you through it with devastating care.

“beautiful,” he breathes, watching you crumble.

you’re too far gone to even feel embarrassed at how wrecked you sound. you’re crying a little overstimulated, completely taken, the term “fucked dumb” no longer a meme, but a diagnosis.

he slows down. pulls out just enough to let you breathe, but not leave. his hands slide down your thighs, soothing, grounding.

and then, without warning, he’s back inside you. slower this time. softer. but it still hurts, in the way pleasure hurts when you’ve already come once and your nerves are still singing. you whimper, and he kisses your shoulder.

“i know, i know,” he whispers. “just one more. you can do one more.”

you don't know if you're nodding or crying, but it doesn’t matter. he keeps praising you, guiding you back to that high again with practiced care and relentless control. and when you finally collapse beneath him, thighs shaking, tears wet on your cheeks, he kisses you like you’re something fragile he’s honored to break.

he doesn’t leave right after.

he wraps you in a warm, damp towel and carries you to the bath. cleans you gently. makes you tea. sits beside you as your body catches up with your soul.

and when he says, “you’re safe,” you believe him.

and you realized then: you’d never be able to go back.

how could you? to twenty-something-year-old men who needed validation, who didn’t know what to do with a woman who needed to be held, not just touched? who didn’t understand the ache that came from deeper wounds. wounds that wanted comfort, not conquest?

nanami wasn’t just good in bed.

he understood. he moved with restraint, with precision. the kind of man who didn’t need to be loud to leave a mark.

you looked up at him. his calm, unreadable expression softened only by the way his thumb brushed over your hip. and it hit you:

you weren’t just ruined for boys.

you were recalibrated.

no one else would ever compare.

[stelashe]

Pro ai dude Bros are the new antivaxx

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[tmblrplsdonutbanme]

Statistics- Again

men constitute 97% of (non fatal) strangulation attacks

men constitute 99% of acid attacks

men constitute 99.99% of child pornography

men constitute 98% of mass shootings

men constitute 99.8% of rapists

men constitute 86% of homicides

men constitute 95% of forcible incest

men constitute 99.99% of child sex abuse

men constitute 99% of molesting cases

men constitute 96% of domestic violence/abuse

men constitute 99% of drugging

men constitute 90% of stalking

men constitute 99.99% of human trafficking perpetrators

men constitute 99% of sex trafficking abuse

Men constitute 99% of animal abuse

Men constitute 98% of bestiality

_________________________Original Post_________________________

92.6% of makeup companies are male

97% of all creative directors are male

98% of modeling agencies are male

92% of fashion media is male

96% of the fashion industry is male

___________________________Rape_________________________

Women are 21x more likely to get raped, yet this is seriously underreported considering the dead bodies

1/3 of all women internationally report being sexually assaulted. we know this number to be much higher due to autopsies reported in the census

Women are 400,000,000x more likely to DIE from RAPE than a man

not one man has ever died from rape, accounts for no coroner report ever, whereas tens of thousands of women and children die a year.

i tried to find a statistic refuting this but i could not

________________________Sex Trafficking________________________

50 million women are sex trafficking victims

women make up for 95% of labor trafficking

70% of child labor is FEMALE

25 million women are forced into child marriages

650 million girls are in arranged marriages/ marriages consummated below the age of consent

_________________________Fetish / Kink_________________________

Men make up most 98% on average of every fetish community

Men make up 99% of pedophilia.

10% of men are pedophiles

_________________________International_________________________

in 70 countries - that comprise 26% of the world population, women need men's permission to learn, work, or travel.

There are 50 countries in which the law states you can sell and buy women into marriage. - These countries, including India and Pakistan, make up 38% of the entire world.

There are 178 countries that do not have the same legal rights for women, where written law specifically excludes women from freedom.

There are 2.4 billion women globally who are born in countries that have written law that restricts them completely, but even more so without a man.

6 billion people believe in a religion that states that women are less human than men

_________________________Original Post_________________________

Infographic Sources

_________________________More Studies_________________________

Study on objectification

Study on empathy

Some Fashion Industry Stats & Sources

Infographic

[glowettee]

✧˖° studying without suffering: how to actually enjoy learning (yes, it’s possible)

✧˖° let’s talk.

hey angels, it's mindy!

most people treat studying like a punishment. something to be endured, not enjoyed. it’s that thing you force yourself to do, like taking bitter medicine or running a mile in gym class. but what if that’s the reason you struggle with it?

the secret? you were never meant to hate learning.

somewhere along the way, school made it boring. maybe you had teachers who sucked the fun out of it. maybe you associate studying with stress, deadlines, and exhaustion. but learning is supposed to be exciting. when you actually enjoy it, everything changes. you focus longer, retain more, and (ironically) spend less time studying because your brain actually absorbs the information.

so, let’s fix it. let’s make studying something you want to do instead of something you suffer through.

✧˖° ➼ step 1: detach learning from school

(school & learning are not the same thing. stop letting school ruin your curiosity.)

the first mindset shift? realize that school does not own learning.

➼ school is about structure, deadlines, and tests. it’s designed to measure performance. ➼ learning is about curiosity, deep thinking, and exploration. it’s designed to expand your mind. and help you grow as a person.

if you’ve only ever studied because you had to, your brain associates it with pressure. break that pattern. find something outside of school that you actually like learning about. philosophy, psychology, art history, neuroscience, fashion design, whatever makes you curious.

even if it’s unrelated to your classes, it rewires your brain to see learning as an intrinsic activity, not just an obligation. once you enjoy learning in general, you can transfer that energy back into your studies.

✧˖° ➼ step 2: romanticize the process (but actually make it feel good)

("romanticizing studying" doesn’t mean just buying cute stationery. let’s go deeper.)

sensory association is everything. your brain links experiences to the way they feel physically. so if studying feels uncomfortable, you’ll avoid it. the solution? make it a luxurious experience for your senses.

✧ visuals → clean, minimalist desk, soft lighting, aesthetic study materials ✧ sound → rain sounds, classical piano, lo-fi beats (music that enhances focus) ✧ touch → cozy blankets, warm tea, smooth pens gliding over paper ✧ scent → vanilla candles, fresh coffee, the pages of an old book

this isn’t just about aesthetics. it’s neuroscience. when studying feels pleasurable, your brain stops resisting it.

✧˖° ➼ step 3: use high-dopamine study techniques

(forcing yourself to study the “normal” way is why you hate it.)

some study methods are literally designed to be boring. ditch them.

instead, try:

➼ blurting method: instead of passively reading, close your book and write down everything you remember. then check what you missed. (way more engaging than just re-reading notes.) ➼ dual-coding: mix visuals with text. draw tiny sketches next to your notes. turn concepts into mind maps. watch a video explaining a topic right after reading about it. ➼ pomodoro stacking: instead of the typical 25-minute study sprints, customize it. (ex: 50 min deep focus + 10 min break with an actual reward.) ➼ interleaving technique: mix subjects instead of block studying. it forces your brain to stay engaged.

stop making studying harder than it needs to be. find what works for you, and your brain will stop fighting it.

✧˖° ➼ step 4: make studying social (but in a smart way)

(because you’re not supposed to do this alone.)

studying alone for hours? miserable. but studying with others who are just as serious as you? instant motivation boost.

but instead of chaotic group study sessions where no one gets anything done, try:

✧ parallel studying: hop on facetime or join a study livestream. silent, focused, but together. ✧ teaching method: explain concepts to a friend. if you can teach it, you truly understand it. ✧ study accountability: check in with someone daily. send each other your study goals, no excuses.

even just knowing someone else is studying at the same time can trick your brain into feeling more engaged.

✧˖° ➼ step 5: shift your identity

("i hate studying" isn’t a personality trait. it’s a mindset problem.)

if you keep saying “i hate studying,” your brain will never enjoy it. change the narrative.

➼ instead of “i suck at studying,” try → “i’m learning how to study in a way that works for me.” ➼ instead of “i can’t focus,” try → “i’m training my brain to focus longer every day.” ➼ instead of “i don’t feel like it,” try → “i’m someone who gets things done, whether i feel like it or not.”

become the type of person who enjoys learning. once that becomes your identity, everything else follows.

✧˖° ➼ step 6: create emotional attachment to your goals

motivation dies when your goals feel distant and impersonal. if you’re studying just because you “have to,” it’s easy to procrastinate. but if you link it to something deeply personal, it becomes non-negotiable.

try this: visualize your future self. imagine the version of you who already achieved everything you want. who is she? what does she do? how does she study?

then, make it emotional. ✧ if you dream of getting into your dream school, print pictures of it. make a vision board. ✧ if you want financial freedom, imagine the luxury of never stressing over money. ✧ if you want to be respected in your field, remind yourself that your knowledge is your power.

when you make studying personal, it stops being a chore. it becomes a commitment.

✧˖° ➼ step 7: stop making everything harder than it needs to be

(struggling doesn’t mean you’re working harder. it just means you’re struggling.)

too many people study inefficiently because they think suffering = productivity. but studying smarter is always better than studying longer.

some ways to make it easier on yourself: ➼ use study apps → quizlet, pomdoro apps for focus, notion for organization ➼ summarize like you’re texting a friend → rewrite notes in your own words, no unnecessary fluff ➼ study in “levels” → don’t jump straight into deep studying. warm up with light review, then increase intensity ➼ take advantage of spaced repetition → stop cramming, your brain retains more when you review over time

efficiency = less stress, better results. don’t work harder than necessary.

✧˖° ➼ step 8: replace toxic productivity with high-performance habits

studying 10 hours in one night ≠ academic excellence. true high-achievers prioritize sustainability.

➼ quit glorifying exhaustion. taking breaks improves focus. it’s not laziness. ➼ learn when to walk away. if you’re zoning out, step away. 10 minutes of real focus > 2 hours of fake studying. ➼ protect your sleep. all-nighters don’t make you hardcore, they make you ineffective. your brain processes info while you sleep.

the goal isn’t to study the longest. it’s to study in a way that keeps your mind sharp and focused.

✧˖° ➼ step 9: master the “dopamine pull” method

instead of forcing motivation, use dopamine to your advantage.

➼ habit stacking → pair studying with something enjoyable (ex: study while drinking your favorite matcha) ➼ mini rewards → after finishing a chapter, reward yourself with something small but satisfying ➼ gamification → track progress like a video game. every completed task = a “level up”

your brain loves dopamine. give it reasons to associate studying with good feelings.

✧˖° ➼ step 10: let go of perfectionism (but keep high standards)

perfectionism leads to procrastination and burnout. instead of striving for flawless, aim for consistent excellence.

✧ done is better than perfect. stop rewriting notes 5 times. ✧ progress is the goal. each study session should move you forward, even if it’s small. ✧ your worth is not your grades. strive for success, but don’t let school define you.

when you release perfectionism, you actually start achieving more. keep your standards high, but don’t let them paralyze you.

✧˖° mindy’s personal tips

(things that helped me romanticize studying & actually make it enjoyable:)

➼ set a 5-minute timer. just start. most of the time, your brain stops resisting once you begin. ➼ don’t let study guilt ruin your breaks. rest is productive. ➼ have a “study fit.” i swear, dressing up just a little makes a difference. ➼ invest in one high-quality pen. something that glides effortlessly. small detail, huge difference. ➼ study in cafés, libraries, parks. switch locations to keep it interesting. ➼ make it ✧ cozy ✧. fuzzy socks, oversized sweaters, soft blankets. your comfort matters.

✧˖° homework: rewire your study experience

➼ for one of your study sessions this week, try at least two of the techniques above. ➼ write a short journal entry: how do you want to feel while studying? how can you make that happen? ➼ change just one thing about your study setup that makes it more enjoyable.

then come back & tell me. did studying feel better? (you can always message me or send me an ask in my inbox)

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from @liberwolf:

Could you explain Tariff's , like who pays them and what they do to a country?

Well, I can definitely guess where this question is coming from.

Honestly, I was pretty excited to get this prompt, because it's one I can answer and was part of my studies focus in college. International business was my thing, and the issues of comparative advantage (along with Power Purchasing Parity) were one of the things I liked to explore.

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

At their simplest, tariffs are an import tax. The United States has had tariffs as low as 5%, and at other times as high as 44% on most goods, such as during the Civil War. The purpose of a tariff is in two parts: generating revenue for the government, and protectionism.

Let's first explore how a tariff works. If you want to be confused, then you need to have never taken an economics class, and look at this graph:

(src)

So let's undo that confusion.

The simplest examples are raw or basic materials such as steel, cotton, or wine.

First, without tariffs:

Let us say that Country A and Country B both produce steel, and it is of similar quality, and in both cases cost $100 per unit. Transportation from one country to the other is $50/unit, so you can either buy domestically for $100, or internationally for $150. So you buy domestically.

Now, Country B discovers a new place to mine iron very easily, and so their cost for steel drops to $60/unit due to increased ease of access. Country A can either purchase domestically for $100, or internationally for $110 (incl. shipping), which is much more even. Still, it is more cost-effective to purchase domestically, and so Country A isn't worried.

Transportation technology is improved, dropping the shipping costs to $30/unit. A person from Country A can buy: Domestic: $100 International: $60+$30 = $90 Purchasing steel from Country B is now cheaper than purchasing it from Country A, regardless of where you live.

Citizens in Country A, in order to reduce costs for domestic construction, begin to purchase their steel from Country B. As a result, money flows from Country A to B, and the domestic steel industry in Country A begins to feel the strain as demand dwindles.

In this scenario, with no tariffs, Country A begins to rely on B for their steel, which causes a loss of jobs (steelworkers, miners), loss of infrastructure (closing of mines and factories), and an outflow of funds to another country. As a result, Country A sees itself as losing money to B, while also growing increasingly reliant on their trading partner for the crucial good that is steel. If something happens to drive up the price of B's steel again, like political upheaval or a natural disaster, it will be difficult to quickly ramp up the production of steel in Country A's domestic facilities again.

What if a tariff is introduced early?

Alternately, the dropping of complete costs for purchase of steel from Country B could be counteracted with tariffs. Let's say we do a 25% tariff on that steel. This tariff is placed on the value of the steel, not the end cost, so:

$60 + (0.25 x $60) + $30 = $105/unit

Suddenly, with the implementation of a 25% tariff on steel from Country B, the domestic market is once again competitive. People can still buy from Country B if they would like, but Country A is less worried about the potential impacts to the domestic market.

The above example is done in regards to a mature market that has not yet begun to dwindle. The infrastructure and labor is still present, and is being preemptively protected against possible loss of industry to purchasing abroad.

What happens if the tariff is not implemented until after the market has dwindled?

Let's say that the domestic market was not protected by the tariff until several decades on. Country A's domestic production, in response to increased purchasing from abroad, has dwindled to one third of what it was before the change in pricing incentivized purchase from B. Prices have, for the sake of keeping this example simple, remained at $100(A) and $60(B) in that time. However, transportation has likely become better, so transportation is down to $20, meaning that total cost for steel from B is $80, accelerating the turn from domestic steel to international.

So, what happens if you suddenly implement a tariff on international steel? Shall we say, 40%?

$60 + (0.4 x 60) + 20 = $104

It's more expensive to order from abroad! Wow! Let's purchase domestically instead, because these prices add up!

But the production is only a third of what it used to be, and domestic mines and factories for refining the iron into steel can't keep up. They're scaling, sure, but that takes time. Because demand is suddenly triple of the supply, the cost skyrockets, and so steel in Country A is now $150/unit! The price will hopefully come down eventually, as factories and mines get back in gear, but will the people setting prices let that happen?

So industries that have begun to rely on international steel, which had come to $80/unit prior to the tariff, are facing the sudden impact of a cost increase of at least $25/unit (B with tariff) or the demand-driven price increase of domestic (nearly double the pre-tariff cost of steel from B), which is an increase of at least 30% what they were paying prior to the tariff.

There are possible other aspects here, such as government subsidies to buoy the domestic steel industry until it catches back up, or possibly Country B eating some of the costs so that people still buy from them (selling for $50 instead of $60 to mitigate some of the price hike, and maintain a loyal customer base), but that's not a direct impact of the tariff.

Who pays for tariffs?

Ultimately, this is a tax on a product (as opposed to a tax on profits or capital themselves, which has other effects), which means the majority of the cost is passed on directly to the consume.

As I said, we could see the producers in Country B cut their costs a little bit to maintain a loyal customer base, but depending on their trade relationships with other countries, they are just as likely to stop trading with Country A altogether in order to focus on more profitable markets.

So why do we not put tariffs on everything?

Well... for that, we get into the question of production efficiency, or in this case, comparative advantage.

Let's say we have two small, neighboring countries, C and D, that have negligible transportation costs and similar industries. Both have extensive farmland, and both have a history of growing grapes for wine, and goats for wool. Country C is a little further north than D, so it has more rocky grasses that are good for goats, while D has more fertile plains that are good for growing grapes.

Let's say that they have an equal workforce of 500,000 of people. I'm going to say that 10,000 people working full time for a year is 1 unit of labor. So, Country C and Country D have between the 100 units of labor, and 50 each.

The cost of 1 unit of wool = the cost of 1 unit of wine

Country C, having better land for goats, can produce 4 units of wool for every unit of labor, and 2 units of wine for every unit of labor.

Meanwhile, Country D, having better land for grapes, can produce 2 units of wool per unit of labor, and 4 units of wine per unit of labor.

If they each devote exactly half their workforce to each product, then:

Country C: 100 units of wool, 50 units of wine Country D: 50 units of wool, 100 units of wine

Totaling 150 units of each product.

However, if each devotes all of their workforce to the product they're better at...

Country C: 200 units of wool, no wine Country D: no wool, 200 units of wine

and when they trade with each other, they each end up with 100 units of each product, which is a doubling of what their less-efficient labor would have resulted in!

The real world is obviously much more complicated, but in this example, we can see the pros of outsourcing some of your production to another country to focus on your own specialties.

Extreme examples of this IRL are countries where most of the economy rests on one product, such as middle-eastern petro-states that are now struggling to diversify their economies in order to not get left behind in the transition to green energy, or Taiwan's role as the world's primary producer of semiconductors being its 'silicon shield' against China.

Comparative advantage can be used well, such as our Unnamed Countries (that are definitely not the classic example of England and Portugal, with goats instead of sheep) up in the example. With each economy focusing on its specialty, there is a greater yield of both products, meaning a greater bounty for both countries.

However, should something happen to Country C up there, like an earthquake that kills half the goats, they are suddenly left with barely enough wool to clothe themselves, and nothing for Country D, which now has a surplus of wine and no wool.

So you do have to keep some domestic industry, because Bad Things Can Happen. And if we want to avoid the steel example of a collapse in the given industry, tariffs might be needed.

Are export tariffs a thing?

Yes, but they are much rarer, and can largely be defined as "oh my god, everyone please stop getting rid of this really important resource by selling it to foreigners for a big buck, we are depleting this crucial resource."

So what's the big confusion right now?

Donald Trump has, on a number of occasions, talked about 'making China pay' tariffs on the goods they import into the US. This has led to a belief that is not entirely unreasonable, that China would be the side paying the tariffs.

The view this statement engenders is that a tariff is a bit like paying a rental fee for a seller's table at an event: the producer or merchant pays the host (or landlord or what have you) a fee to sell their product on the premises. This could be a farmer's market, a renaissance faire, a comic book convention, whatever. If you want to sell at the event, you have to pay a fee to get a space to set up your table.

In the eyes of the people who listened to Trump, the tariff is that fee. China is paying the United States for access to the market.

And, technically, that's not entirely wrong. China is thus paying to enter the US market. It's just the money to pay that fee needs to come from somewhere, and like most taxes on goods, that fee comes from the consumer.

So... what now?

Well, a lot of smaller US companies that rely on cheap goods made in China are buying up non-perishables while they can, before the tariffs hit. Long-term, manufacturers in the US that rely on parts and tools manufactured in China are going to feel the squeeze once that frontloaded stock is depleted.

Some companies are large enough to take the hit on their own end, still selling at cheap rates to the consumer, because they can offset those costs with other parts of their empire... at least until smaller competitors are driven out of business, at which point they can start jacking up their prices since there are no options left. You may look at that and think, "huh, isn't that the modus operandi for Walmart and Amazon already?" and yes. It is. We are very much anticipating a 'rich get richer, poor go out of business' situation with these tariffs.

The tariffs will also impact larger companies, including non-US ones like Zara (Spanish) and H&M (Swedish), if they have a huge reliance on Chinese production to supply their huge market in the United States.

If you're interested in the repercussions that people expect from these proposed tariffs on Chinese goods, I'd suggest listening to or watching the November 8th, 2024 episode of Morning Brew Daily (I linked to YouTube, but it's also available on Spotify, Nebula, the Morning Brew website, and other podcast platforms).

[cosmosluckycharms]

Super Rich Kids

A/N: hey guys warning this is sosososo bad im tryna get out of writers block by forcinf myself to write help

reader is loosly based off haruhi fujioka but not that much (you dont have to know anything about ohshc to understand this)

reader is gender neutral

ugh sorry this is so bad

After your mom died at an early age, around when you were 5. you and your father were by yourselves.

At first, it was difficult, you kept yourself company most of the time due to your father working hard to keep you both afloat.

You lived in an okay apartment, one that was in the middle of an area that was cheap, but dangerous to live in.

Gotham.

You knew how to cook and do chores around the house due to your mother teaching you before she passed.

In middle school, you threw yourself into your studies to be able to have a better life in the future.

You barely went out with friends, and when you did you'd leave early.

It wasn't that you didn't like or care for them, you were just busy trying to get into higher education.

It worked out for you. You were able to get a scholarship into a high school you used to dream of entering.

Gotham prep.

It wasnt the best, but it was better.

You had to leave your old high school midway through 9th grade.

It meant that you had to leave all your friends and teachers.

youd miss them, but a scholarship is a scholarship.

Plus, maybe you could still see them around?

You couldn't afford to get the fancy uniforms that cost almost as much as your rent, so you decided to procrastinate on getting one.

Your teachers would understand, right?

Your teachers did not understand.

They refused to let you go around the school without a uniform, so you had to use an old uniform from the lost and found.

It was dusty and had a couple of holes, but it'd have to do.

You also somehow kept managing to get lost, so whenever you walked into your classroom, you were usually 10 minutes late.

So much for a good first impression.

As you got to your 4th class of the day, you fumbled around with the doorknob, trying to open the classroom door without dropping your books and supplies.

You struggled a bit until a black-haired boy saw you looking a little stupid out the small window on the door.

He got up and unlocked it for you, and you almost dropped your pencil case

Thankfully, he picked it up and gave it to you before it hit the ground.

"Be careful next time," he smirked and held the door open for you.

As you were about to thank him, you heard the teacher clear her throat.

"And who might you be?"

"I'm Y/n," you spoke, trying not to look stupid in front of a class of 25 people.

She checked her attendance roster. "Last name?"

"L/n."

"you aren't on the roster. Are you sure you're in this class? You aren't skipping, are you?" she raised an eyebrow at you.

"I moved here like, two days ago. I have my schedule, though." you handed her your paper schedule, making sure not to drop anything.

Once the whole attendance thing was sorted out, you were sat down next to the blue-eyed boy.

You kept glancing at him through the corner of your eye.

He took notice and looked at you fully, catching you off guard.

You straightened your posture and looked at the board, making him chuckle.

"Why are you staring so hard?"

"Sorry, I don't know." you looked away in embarrassment.

The truth is, you didn't even notice you were staring. You were just taking notice of your surroundings.

Plus, he looked familiar

"You're Y/n, right?"

"Yep."

"I'm Tim." he put his hand out so you could shake it.

"Quiet you two." the teacher yelled, shutting you both up.

The class went by slowly. Luckily for you, the class was easy to pay attention to.

Most of the kids had their heads down and were asleep, including the boy next to you.

Sucks for him.

That was your last class of the day, and you started to make your way back to your apartment.

You had your slightly mangled wired headphones in, and didn't hear footsteps behind you.

You didn't notice the presence of a certain someone until you felt the tap of someone on your shoulder.

You turned around and saw Tim, and a blonde girl right next to him.

"Hey," Tim spoke

You took your earbud out "..Hey?"

"This is Steph, she's one of my friends. She's coming with us." Tim said, pointing to the blonde.

"To where?" you questioned, tilting your head.

"To his house, duh," Steph stated.

"I'm not coming." you tried walking ahead of them, only for Steph to hold your wrist.

"Why?" Tim questioned

"Because I have things to do." you had to start working on your resume to get a job.

"C'mon, just come over!" Steph insisted

"I'm fine."

"c'mon, we're your friends!" Tim spoke

You rolled your eyes ".. I just met you guys.."

"Whatever!" Steph dragged you by the wrist and started dragging you to Alfred's car.

You had to be pulled into the car by both Tim and Steph as you all made your way to the manor.

You didn't want to go, but you had no choice.

Both of them were insistent.

You didn't take notice of the driver and how surprised he looked to see you. You were spaced out looking at the window beside you thinking about how you could've avoided all of this.

"And who might you be?" the older man spoke

You jumped at his words. "I'm y/n— one of Tim's classmates."

"That's quite strange, he's never mentioned you."

"yeah, I just moved here like, two days ago. We just met like an hour ago."

"Oh, that's alright."

You pulled out your phone and texted your dad to let him know you wouldn't be getting home until later.

You knew he wouldn't see the text until later.

He was at work.

You looked out the window and spaced out on your way over to the manor.

Once you felt the car stop, you noticed how big the manor was.

You were surprised at how someone could live in it or even afford it.

It seemed that Tim could sense your shock.

He nudged your shoulder and snapped you out of it.

You, Steph, and Tim all made your way inside.

They knew their way around, so you had to follow behind them like a lost puppy.

You all made your way to the kitchen and sat down on the island.

The entire manor looked too fancy, like that fake house set at Ikea.

The countertops glimmered and shined in a way you've never seen before.

"Do you want something?" Tim asked

"I want to go home." you your your head down on the cold marble island.

Tim rolled his eyes "I meant like to drink or eat."

"Oh, uh, could I get some water?"

"Coming right up." he started making his way to get water.

You and Steph both went on your phones.

Steph liked talking, a lot.

It was sort of overwhelming for you, especially since you weren't used to talking to a lot of people.

You liked the quiet.

About around 5 minutes of being on your phone, you felt a gust of wind pass by you, and you saw what looked like an 11-year-old boy arguing with an older boy who had a tuft of white hair.

You put little to no mind to it as you continued to scroll on your phone.

Three seconds later Tim made his way back to the dining room.

You looked up from your phone to see Tim looking at the boys.

"Could you guys cut it out? We have company." Tim handed you a bottle of water

"My bad." the boy with the white tuft of hair walked up to you "I'm Jason."

You shook his hand. "Y/n."

"I will not apologize to them." the green-eyed boy spoke.

"Damian–" Tim tried to reprimand him

"that's fine." you got up from your chair "Do you know where the bathroom is?"

"Yeah, it's past that hallway." Jason pointed

"Thanks."

As you made your way to the bathroom, you could hear Damian getting scolded by Tim.

You checked your phone and noticed how your father still hadn't seen your messages.

You sighed and made your way back to the kitchen, not noticing the guy in front of you.

You accidentally bumped into him

"Sorry, my bad," you said.

"It's okay." you watched as the man scratched his head in confusion "I don't think I've seen you around, did Bruce just adopt you?"

"huh?" you tilted your head in confusion. "I'm just visiting, Tim and Steph invited me over."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"im Y/n."

"I'm Richard, most people call me Dick, though."

You snickered at the nickname, and Dick pretended to dramatically look offended.

You both made small talk as you made your way to the kitchen.

You sat back down on a seat and went back to scrolling on your phone, ignoring the ever-growing chaos of the siblings fighting.

Steph sat up and grabbed her bag, making her way out the door and waving goodbye to you.

You waved back.

After a minute or two of getting bored of your phone, you got up and grabbed your bag, ready to walk home.

"Y/n!" Jason called

"Hm?"

"Tell Damian to let go of my book!"

"I refuse, Todd!"

The name gave you deja vu like you've heard it before.

Wait a second.

You locked eyes with Jason, and you noticed how much he looked like Bruce Wayne's dead son.

From his eyes, to his nose, to his ears.

He had the same name too.

You gasped quietly.

How did you not notice sooner?

"You–you're Bruce Wayne's dead son!"

"What?" Jason's eyes widened

Jason started walking towards you, trying to intimidate you.

You started backing up in fear, not taking notice of the vase behind you.

You bumped into it, making it shatter onto the floor.

You looked at it and noticed how expensive everything looked.

Damn, rich people.

"Shoot, I'm so sorry! I can pay you guys back!" You tried putting the pieces back together but there was no use.

It was shattered.

You just had to hope that it wasn't too expensive–

Dick interrupted your train of thought "That vase was around a million dollars, I think."

You turned around to look at him, hoping he was lying ".. You're joking."

"I'm serious. We got it at an auction. One of a kind, you know." Tim spoke

"Shoot." you were visibly sweating "I cant afford that! I couldnt even afford a school uniform!"

"I have a way you could pay it back." Alfred spoke up from the shadows (how did you not notice him?"

"How?"

"Working as my apprentice."

this was so ass im sorry omg

yay this reader is NOT neglected 🥳🥳🥳 slightly better childhood 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

this is so ass omg

[nightblackowlbat]

Soulmate AU Dead on MAYn 25 day 1

Trope: Ghost culture is weird

Word: Bones

Scenario: Jason meets Dany as a ghost

Dialogue: “Wait, you can see me?”

Ever since Danny’s soulmate words came in, his parents’ attitude towards ghosts had done a 180. After all, what else but a ghost would say something like “wait, you can see me?” as an introduction? And if their perfect boy’s soulmate was a ghost, then ghosts couldn’t be all that bad. Jack and Maddie were soulmates after all, and they would never dream of trying to keep their son from his fated other half. (Maddie had the question “did you just build a spirit box out of a crockpot?” along her inner arm and Jack had “Obviously!” Stamped on his forehead.)

All that’s to say that the Fentons were no longer obsessed with catching any old ghost to study. No, instead they were obsessed with catching Danny’s soulmate to add them to the family. It made things pretty awkward when the portal opened up and the Fentons chased down every ghost to introduce their son, only to find Danny gone at the last minute and Phantom appearing to chase the other ghost back into the zone.

Danny was just about ready to die again of shame when Jack brought up the possibility that Phantom was his shy yet jealous soulmate, not ready to meet him yet but hating the idea of Danny meeting any other ghost first. Luckily Jazz pointed out that since Danny’s words were “wait you can see me?” It implied that his ghostly soulmate was a much weaker, invisible ghost that would only appear outside of Amity. Danny had never appreciated his big sister so much. He carefully didn’t mention that Phantom could go invisible at will.

Alas, one cannot stop a determined Fenton couple, only redirect them. Which is why they were on this grand family road trip to visit every cemetery and graveyard in America. Or at least, have Danny visit them. Jazz once again came in clutch insisting that nobody needed their whole family hovering around as they met their soulmate and demanded the parents visit colleges with her while Danny explored graves on his own.

Danny didn’t mind really, wandering around graveyards was far from the worst way his parents could have made him spend his summer. Besides, cemeteries were peaceful, beautiful even. And meeting (and teasing) the few ghosts who actually stuck by their graves was nice. Hey, as an obsession based ghost it was his right to poke a little fun at those boring graveyard ghosts who just stuck around their bones.

“Are you seriously haunting your own grave? I’m not sure I can think of anything more cliche and that’s coming from a ghost who goes by Phantom.” Danny tossed out as his usual cheeky introduction.

The ghost whirled around with a look of shock on his face. “Wait, you can see me?”

Danny felt his soul mark burn and his jaw dropped in mirrored shock. “Well I’ll be darned!” He laughed out loud. “I guess this trip wasn’t useless after all. Nice t’meetcha soulmate! I’m Danny.”

The ghost huffed. “Oh a’course I only meet my soulmate once I’m dead. Shouldn’a ‘spected any different given my weird ass words.”

“Uhm, I’m guessing you’re Jason? Or do you have a dead name you’d rather go by?” Danny nervously asked.

“Isn’t that an oxymoron? No one wants to go by their dead name. That’s the whole point.”

“Oh! Ghost culture is weird. Dead name means something different. It’s- a ghost’s dead name is who they want to be in death rather than who they were in life? Hmm. No, that’s not quite it. It’s who they always were, just crystallized and purified from everything that tainted it in life. Like, it’s who you are without life getting in the way.”

“Then. I guess I’m Robin. He can’t take that away from me now that I’m dead, now can he?”

[reasonsforhope]

"A large clinical trial in South Africa and Uganda has shown that a twice-yearly injection of a new pre-exposure prophylaxis drug gives young women total protection from HIV infection.

The trial tested whether the six-month injection of lenacapavir would provide better protection against HIV infection than two other drugs, both daily pills. All three medications are pre-exposure prophylaxis (or PrEP) drugs.

Physician-scientist Linda-Gail Bekker, principal investigator for the South African part of the study, tells Nadine Dreyer what makes this breakthough so significant and what to expect next.

Tell us about the trial and what it set out to achieve

The Purpose 1 trial with 5,000 participants took place at three sites in Uganda and 25 sites in South Africa to test the efficacy of lenacapavir and two other drugs.

Lenacapavir (Len LA) is a fusion capside inhibitor. It interferes with the HIV capsid, a protein shell that protects HIV’s genetic material and enzymes needed for replication. It is administered just under the skin, once every six months.

The randomised controlled trial, sponsored by the drug developers Gilead Sciences, tested several things.

The first was whether a six-monthly injection of lenacapavir was safe and would provide better protection against HIV infection as PrEP for women between the ages of 16 and 25 years than Truvada F/TDF, a daily PrEP pill in wide use that has been available for more than a decade.

Secondly, the trial also tested whether Descovy F/TAF, a newer daily pill, was as effective as F/TDF...

The trial had three arms. Young women were randomly assigned to one of the arms in a 2:2:1 ratio (Len LA: F/TAF oral: F/TDF oral) in a double blinded fashion. This means neither the participants nor the researchers knew which treatment participants were receiving until the clinical trial was over.

In eastern and southern Africa, young women are the population who bear the brunt of new HIV infections. They also find a daily PrEP regimen challenging to maintain, for a number of social and structural reasons.

During the randomised phase of the trial none of the 2,134 women who received lenacapavir contracted HIV. There was 100 percent efficiency.

By comparison, 16 of the 1,068 women (or 1.5%) who took Truvada (F/TDF) and 39 of 2,136 (1.8%) who received Descovy (F/TAF) contracted the HIV virus...

What is the significance of these trials?

This breakthrough gives great hope that we have a proven, highly effective prevention tool to protect people from HIV.

There were 1.3 million new HIV infections globally in the past year. Although that’s fewer than the 2 million infections seen in 2010, it is clear that at this rate we are not going to meet the HIV new infection target that UNAIDS set for 2025 (fewer than 500,000 globally) or potentially even the goal to end Aids by 2030...

For young people, the daily decision to take a pill or use a condom or take a pill at the time of sexual intercourse can be very challenging.

HIV scientists and activists hope that young people may find that having to make this “prevention decision” only twice a year may reduce unpredictability and barriers.

For a young woman who struggles to get to an appointment at a clinic in a town or who can’t keep pills without facing stigma or violence, an injection just twice a year is the option that could keep her free of HIV.

What happens now?

The plan is that the Purpose 1 trial will go on but now in an “open label” phase. This means that study participants will be “unblinded”: they will be told whether they have been in the “injectable” or oral TDF or oral TAF groups.

They will be offered the choice of PrEP they would prefer as the trial continues.

A sister trial is also under way: Purpose 2 is being conducted in a number of regions including some sites in Africa among cisgender men, and transgender and nonbinary people who have sex with men.

It’s important to conduct trials among different groups because we have seen differences in effectiveness. Whether the sex is anal or vaginal is important and may have an impact on effectiveness.

How long until the drug is rolled out?

We have read in a Gilead Sciences press statement that within the next couple of months [from July 2024] the company will submit the dossier with all the results to a number of country regulators, particularly the Ugandan and South African regulators.

The World Health Organization will also review the data and may issue recommendations.

We hope then that this new drug will be adopted into WHO and country guidelines.

We also hope we may begin to see the drug being tested in more studies to understand better how to incorporate it into real world settings.

Price is a critical factor to ensure access and distribution in the public sector where it is badly needed.

Gilead Sciences has said it will offer licences to companies that make generic drugs, which is another critical way to get prices down.

In an ideal world, governments will be able to purchase this affordably and it will be offered to all who want it and need protection against HIV."

-via The Conversation, July 3, 2024

[venusbyline]

Newborn — Lucerys Velaryon.

— summary: Lucerys never filled his cousin-wife’s cunt with his cum, and you always drank moon tea after having sex with your brother-husband. Lucerys had kept his promise to never get Rhaena pregnant, and you also had kept your promise to never let Jacaerys get you pregnant.

— pairing: Lucerys Velaryon x older sister!reader

— type: fluff

— word count: 728

— tags/warnings: female!reader, aged-up!Lucerys Velaryon, Targcest (younger brother/older sister), secret relationship, forbidden love, infidelity, post-childbirth, implied breeding kink, past underage sex (Lucerys was 16 when he lost his virginity and reader was 20, but now Lucerys is 21 and reader is 25), dry humping mentioned, oral sex mentioned, handjob mentioned, fingering mentioned, loss of virginity mentioned, forced marriage, minor Jacaerys Velaryon/reader, minor Lucerys Velaryon/Rhaena Targaryen, mention of cousin incest, open ending, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession). no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— author's notes: This one-shot is based on an anon ask that I received and it's inspired by one of my horny thoughts too. ❤️❤️

— high valyrian words used: Mandia (older sister), Ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved).

❥ Lucerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist • Horny Thoughts

— crossposting: AO3

❥ about me • main masterlist

Lucerys waited near the garden, sitting on a wooden bench and admiring the flowers that had been decorating the lawn due to the arrival of spring. The young prince took a deep breath, counting to one hundred over and over again since he got there.

The garden reminded him of his older sister, always lying down with him under a tree to study High Valyrian, always saying that the fresh air would make the two of you concentrate much more than the cold and dull walls of the library.

Most of the time, you always ended up fucking on the floor, devouring each other's lips as if you were still two young people with hormones raging.

It had been during one of these typical nights of studying that you had taken Lucerys' virginity, two moons after you became Jacaerys' wife. Rhaenyra had explained that the moment a woman marries, she should not spend too much time alone with any man other than her husband, much less without the supervision of guards or servants. Even if you were a princess and her heir, even if that other man in question was just your little brother.

Obviously, you did not care about your mother's lectures or about Lucerys' initial hesitation, all it took was a few purred words and naughty touches for the innocent boy to surrender a little more to your charms.

That night, you, at twenty, claimed your sixteen-year-old brother just as you claimed Silverwing seven years before. You claimed a dragon that would soon belong to someone else.

To your cousin, Rhaena.

Her engagement to Lucerys had been revealed a week after your wedding ceremony with your brother Jacaerys. Rhaena had not wanted that, and neither had Lucerys.

The Velaryon prince had sworn off his destiny as Corlys Velaryon’s heir and left the titles to Joffrey. He did not want to succeed his grandfather as the next Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark… He wanted to stay in King’s Landing forever, following your every move, never leaving his dear older sister.

Then Lucerys allowed you to take his virginity before Rhaena had the chance to do that.

You had not gotten pregnant with Jacaerys in the first moons since you were married. Your womb was empty when you felt Lucerys' cock inside you for the first time, so fucking better than the times you spent hidden away, just rubbing against each other's body or just using your mouths and hands to give and receive pleasure.

Your womb was empty until Lucerys' seed took hold.

However, five years passed and Luke needed to stay away from the doors for a while, once again waiting for his older brother to emerge from your chambers after one more successful childbirth.

"He is so perfect..." Lucerys smiled softly, caressing the newborn's little face white you lay in bed, trying to recover yourself from the stress endured during the childbirth, from those hours that seemed to never pass and from that pain that increased with each contraction. "I am so proud of you, Mandia. You did a good job."

"You mean both of us, Ñuha jorrāeliarzy." Your words made Luke's heart clench and melt at the same time.

He knew very well what you meant.

The newborn was still too young for Lucerys be able to distinguish the features properly, but deep down he knew that the little boy was his son. Just like all your other children.

The twins girls who were the firstborns, the boy who was born a few days after his sisters' second name day... And now the new baby boy too.

All of them looked too much like Lucerys, enough so that the Court whispered about the kids being his children and not of your brother-husband Jacaerys. Enough so that your mother, the Queen, felt disappointed every time Rhaena told her that Lucerys always refused to spill his seed inside her since the consummation of their marriage. Enough so that Jacaerys refused to ask the truth, because deep down he already knew it, choosing to live without the harsh reality.

Lucerys never filled his cousin-wife’s cunt with his cum, and you always drank moon tea after having sex with your brother-husband.

Lucerys had kept his promise to never get Rhaena pregnant, and you also had kept your promise to never let Jacaerys get you pregnant.

[sojumimi]

又 : loving you again ──── 西村力 (니키)

SYNOPSIS : where two meet as strangers and then become friends, but then one leaves the other behind, and that they are strangers again... will they mend their relationship to become friends again or even something more, or would they leave everything as they had left it?

COUPLE : high school student!ni-ki x high school student!reader to ➤ ???!ni-ki x ???!reader

GENRE : romance, slice of life, reality check, and a sprinkle of angst [maybe a little more than a sprinkle, but you know what i mean], slow burn!!

BEFORE READING : the story starts out when both ni-ki and the fmc/fl [female lead/female main character] are in high school, it’s a bit of a long start before they meet again, cause like you need development and plot ��ㅠ ⋮⋮ face claim of the fmc/fl [female lead/female main character] is only for imagery purposes only!! in no way shape or form am i shipping her with ni-ki! ALSO FYI TIME WILL NOT MAKE SENSE- I didn't think this through guys ㅠㅠ

WARNING : vulgar language, and kys/kms jokes will be made, and some maybe nsfw jokes

CAST : enhypen members, leehan [bnd], sungho [bnd], eunchae [lesserafim], myung jaehyun [bnd]

STATUS : on going

STARTED : 20250330 @ 23:11

ENDED :

ꜱᴏᴊᴜᴍɪᴍɪ : my first SMAU and I think my storage is dying 哈哈哈哈, and plot may not be plotting, please bear with me ㅠㅠ

chapters & profiles :

PROFLIES : [daisie.co] || [#popular] || [honorable mentions]

CHAPTERS :

01 im sorry what, now?!

02 why. why would you choose that-

03 research

04 group hangout (not)

05 fracture, dumb shit happened

06 who the hell is that?

07 planning?

08 cafe date!

09 disaster

10 looking after a man child, only for tutoring ofcourse

11 oh- she's mad

12 arcade

13 results, shedding happy tears

14 group study session?? and more injuries

15 all nighter #grumpy yn

16 exam season midterms, finals, and ap exams

17 more all nighters

18 extra circulars

19 collage aps

20 bowling? youre a bowl???

21 that’s gay

22 ate night gathering

23 crushes, teasing, getting love from hyungs

24 k-tv, #sunghoon and sungho embarrassing moment

25 summer plans

26 news

27 letters and sobs

28 did she delete her account?

29 gone, she’s gone?

30 graduation

31 starting again ( time jump second year of university)

more coming soon...

reminder all chapter titles are subject to change! <3

──── taglist : closed

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated !

© all rights reserved sojumimi 2025

do not copy, steal or repost my work without permission.

[gabriellessworldd]

Do i make you nervous?

shy, nerdy Armin x bold black fem reader

wc- 1.4k!

☆ warnings ☆: js a lil smth for my armin girlies! very light smut nth too crazy 18+, oral (f receive, you sit on his face 😛), armin is obsessed with you, so when you asked him to be your tutor he thanked his lucky stars.

"Excuse me, Miss L/n, could you stay after class, there's a pressing matter." your chemistry professor Mrs. Clark announced whilst sending you a look after she graded your assignment. "Yea i'll stay." you mumbled opening up your macbook, checking the damage, '13% no. fucking. way.' sure you weren't the best student but it was never this bad.

Class was finally over and honestly you wanted nothing more than to go back to your apartment and take a long ass nap. "Miss L/n, don't keep me waiting! Come here please." honestly you didn't want to hear what she had to say, but if you wanted to pass this class you would have to work your ass off. "Yes ma'am, what's the matter?" you were trying to be polite and sweet so maybe she'd have mercy on you but, that plan didn't work.

After 25 minutes of her lecturing you about your grades, she finally offered some help. "I would suggest you get a tutor, it could give you that extra push you need. Hearing the same stuff from me everyday clearly isn't helping you." She looks at you and shrugs, "You can see yourself out now, enjoy your afternoon." As much as she annoyed you, your professor was right, and you had the perfect tutor in mind.

Armin Arlert. Not only was he smart as fuck but he also had a gorgeous face. It made perfect sense, if that pretty boy had been teaching you chemistry you probably would've had perfect attendance and 100's on all your assignments. You saw him walking off campus and rushed after him, you weren't sure if he would help, but what's the harm in asking?

"Hey Armin!" he turned around looking for who was calling him then he spotted you waving him down. 'is y/n looking for me?' he felt his stomach do an olympic level gymnastic routine (😜) and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was captivated by you, there was just something so perfect about you. The way you laughed, your voice, your beautiful eyes, your entire being had him enthralled.

He walked over to you, "h-hey y/n" he tried not to get too nervous but the small voice crack gave him away. "hi! i was wondering if you could do me a favor?" you batted your eyelashes and smiled brightly. "o-oh! y-yea of course, what's the matter?" he said it almost too quickly, Armin was just glad he could talk to you. You studied his face, it was perfect, the way his glasses sat on his face, the pink tint on his lightly freckled cheeks, even his pink plump lips. 'wait, why is he blushing?' you smiled at the thought, this would be so easy.

"s-so you need m-me to tutor y-you?" he stumbled over his words, an hour and thirty minutes alone with you, luck really was on his side today. "Yup, that's it! Think we could start today?" you checked the time, it was 3:47. "You could come to my house now if you're free! There aren't any distractions and it would be just me nd you!" There was no way Armin was turning this down, "yes that works for me." 'fuck yea i finally made it through a sentence without stuttering' he smiled softly showing his teeth, and your knees nearly buckled.

You opened your door, the scent of vanilla and strawberries clouded Armin. Your place was comfy nd clean, "You can sit at the table over there, I need to shower quickly if you don't mind!" He nodded his head 'i can't believe im in y/n's house right now' he pulled out his textbook nd laptop, not that he would really need it.

"Thank you so much for waiting!" you walked out of your room in your pj's and matching house slippers. "You want anything to drink? I've got dr pepper, pineapple fanta, nd water." Armin watched you walk to the kitchen, your small shorts shrinking with every step, "u-uhm dr pepper is fine. thanks." You sat back down with the two drinks, your boobs bounced slightly in your exposed cheetah print push up bra. you noticed Armin's face heat up and slightly turn pink, you decided to tease him.

you leaned over the table and showing more cleavage and placed your hand on his arm, "Do you mind explaining this to me? I don't get it" Armin tried not to make eye contact with you and took a sip of his drink, but when he finally gave in your seductive eyes almost killed him. He choked on the dr pepper, "um y-yea it's dea-" "Wait.. do i make you nervous?" you cut him off, not caring about chemistry anymore, that assignment could wait.

You scooted closer to Armin and leaned in close to his face, "you're a very pretty boy Armin, did you know that?" You looked at his lips and back at his eyes, "n-no I've ne-never-" You went to kiss him and he immediately took the chance. His soft hands instantly squeezed your tits, and you ran your fingers through his soft blonde hair. The kiss was sweet but it was also passionate, it felt desperate like you both needed more. Armin slid down the straps to your top and bra, freeing your boobs. His soft hands pinched and rolled your nipples, you softly moaned into his mouth and he slipped his tongue in. But he still wanted more.

Armin pulled away from the kiss, face flushed and cheeks red, with a light sheen on his lips from your lip gloss. He lowered his mouth to your right nipple, slipping it in while still playing with the left. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, tugging at his locks. Armin left hickeys all over your chest, wanting to mark you, he needed to know that this wasn't a deluded dream and that you were right there letting him touch you. He looked up at you while sliding your tit out of his mouth with a pop, "c-can we go to your room?" his face was filled with lust, he looked so divine. "of course" you stood up and grabbed his hand, leading him to your room. Armin was anxious obviously, but the was something he needed.

You laid in your bed with your legs propped up on Armin's shoulders as he sloppily ate you out. "Fuck Armin! right there please!" He sucked on your clit, he needed you to cum, he wanted to taste how sweet you were. "o-oh fuck armin, mmhm, right there" He came up, his lips covered in your arousal, " I want you to cum in my mouth y/n." He went back to sucking your clit, you felt a familiar pressure build up in the lower half of your stomach,"a-ah mm armin. That feels soo good!" You could feel yourself about to unravel as he pushed his tongue in and out of your hole. "Cmon y/n, c-cum for me, please." he felt you pulse on his tongue and pull his hair, he started getting sloppier.

Your thighs squeezed his head as you felt your high coming. "ah Armin 'm gonna cum, fuck!" you moaned out as he sucked on your clit, making you throw your head back and squeeze your eyes closed, mouth dangling open. You felt yourself squirt and looked down at Armin watching him lick up everything.

"Can, can you s-sit on my f-face?" He wanted you to say yes, he needed you to say yes. You looked at him puzzled, "You want me, to sit on your face?" "Yes. please y/n." You nodded your head at the blonde, Armin quickly sat down, laying down fully when he saw you stand over him. You straddled his face, not fully sitting down all the way. "Y/n sit down all the way please, I promise I'll be alright." You listened and sat down.

"o-oh fuck armin, oh my god please!" his nose rubbed your sensitive clit as he continued tongue fucking you, his groans vibrated against your core. He loved the way you moaned, it sounded so heavenly, it was his new favorite sound. You needed more, you started to slowly grind on his face, "c-can you go faster y/n please." You picked up the pace, his tongue worked wonders, it was like Armin knew exactly what you liked. "a-ah Armin! 'm too sensitive, gonna cum again" You were on cloud nine, his tongue continued the ravaging pace. "c-cum for me sweetheart." The overstimulation and sloppy licks to your clit drove you over the edge "Fuck! ah Armin!" your vision went clouded as you came down from your high. Armin was satisfied, this was all he needed, to taste every bit of you.

a/n ☆: hiiii my lovebugs!! firstly i js wanna say i'm so grateful for all the interaction with "Never get yo bitch back!" also next part will be coming soon! lmk if y'all wanna get tagged in my future projects!! (y'all like the color switch for different characters or js keep pink?)

-with lots of love, gabrielle <3

[odileeclipse]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 25

<<<Previous Next>>>

It had been three weeks.

Three long, buzzing, sleepless weeks since your portfolios were submitted, carefully reviewed, triple-checked, and delivered into the arcane dropbox guarded by an enchanted golem who had politely wished you “good fortune” in five different languages. 

And now, the final wait was nearly over. The results would be posted tomorrow at dawn. You sat at your usual spot in the dining hall, the table glowing under soft lanternlight, half-listening to the hum of your friends’ voices. Every student around you carried the same barely-contained energy, like the whole Academy was holding its breath.

“I swear,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered, slumping dramatically over his tray, “if I don’t get placed in the Mythos Lab, I’m transferring to one of those boring wizard academies by the marsh.”

“You’d last two days before dying of boredom,” Chai Latte Cookie replied, poking at her mashed roots with her spoon. “Or trying to enchant the entire faculty into giving you snacks.” Hazelnut grinned. “So I’d go down in history.”

“You’d go down in flames,” Earl Grey said dryly, not looking up from his tea. “Which would be poetic, but still tragic.” 

You chuckled softly, but your thoughts wandered. Three weeks. It felt like a blur and an eternity all at once. Between lectures, late-night study sessions, and whispered evenings in the Scholar’s Wing, it had passed without warning.

“Do you think we’ll all get in?” you asked quietly. The table stilled for just a breath. Chai was the first to speak. “I think we’ve done everything we could. We worked hard. We submitted early. We made each other better.” 

She gave you a pointed look, warm and firm. “You’ve come so far.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti nodded. “We’ve got a real shot.”

“And if not,” Earl Grey added smoothly, “we’ll simply rewrite the future until it suits us. That’s what scholars do.” 

That drew a laugh from all of you. But the nerves didn’t quite fade .As you reached for your tea, Chai leaned forward suddenly, that familiar glint in her eye.

“And speaking of rewriting futures…” she said slyly. “What’s going on with you and the Sage of Truth?”

You blinked. “What?”

She grinned. “Shadow Milk Cookie. You’ve been seeing him almost every day for weeks, and I’m just supposed to believe you’re only talking about metaphysics and portfolio formatting?” 

Hazelnut made a quiet “ooh,” and even Earl Grey quirked a brow with interest. 

You hesitated. “It’s… kind of the same. I mean, we’re close. There’s this understanding between us, this rhythm we’ve fallen into. But-”

“But?” Chai’s voice softened.

You exhaled. “It’s like there’s this barrier we keep pretending doesn’t exist. We’re not just friends anymore. I think we both know that. But there’s no label. No definition. And it’s… starting to feel like that lack of definition is keeping us from something.” 

Earl Grey set down his tea. “From moving forward.” 

You nodded, voice quieter. “Maybe.” Chai looked at you, really looked, and reached across the table to squeeze your hand.

“You’ve already walked into the unknown once,” she said. “What’s one more step?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at your friends how far you’d all come. How much tomorrow might change. And how much, already, had changed. Maybe in the morning, there’d be answers. Maybe even the kind that couldn’t be written into a portfolio. 

Your fingers curled around your cup, the warmth grounding you as you exhaled softly. 

The laughter and chatter that had filled the table moments before quieted, a subtle shift as your friends sensed the sincerity behind your silence. “It’s not that easy,” you said, voice low but honest. Hazelnut Biscotti, halfway through chewing a roll, paused. Chai Latte leaned in just a bit, eyes softening. 

Even Earl Grey tilted his head slightly, setting down his teacup. “It’s not like we don’t care about each other,” you continued. “I know we do. But there’s this… line. One neither of us wants to cross.”

Chai gave you a gentle smile. “Because of who he is?” 

You nodded slowly. “Because of everything he is. He’s the Sage of Truth…Shadow Milk Cookie. He’s someone with centuries ahead of him, someone who speaks in riddles and answers with stars. And I’m…” 

You gestured vaguely. “Just a student. One who nearly flunked their way through the first half of the semester and once tried to enchant pineapple ice cream.”

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a soft snort. “A noble disaster.”

You smiled faintly but didn’t look up. “I guess… I don’t know where we stand. We never really say anything. It’s always these quiet moments holding hands under the table, walking in the gardens after dark, falling asleep in his office. But we don’t call it anything.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to name it first,” Earl Grey said gently. 

You looked at him, surprised. “He’s older. Wiser. But that doesn’t mean he knows how to navigate this,” 

Earl continued. “Maybe he’s giving you room. Letting you choose if you want something defined…without putting pressure on it.” 

Chai reached out and brushed her thumb lightly over your knuckles. “But not knowing still hurts, doesn’t it?”

You gave the smallest nod. “It’s like… it doesn’t matter if we both know what this is if neither of us says it out loud. It feels like we’re keeping it in a box we’re both too scared to open.” There was silence, but it wasn’t heavy. Just thoughtful.

“I’m not asking for anything big,” you added. “I just want to feel like we’re standing on something solid. That I’m not imagining it.”

“You’re not,” Chai said quietly, her hand still resting over yours. Hazelnut raised his cup. “And if he breaks your heart, we’ll steal his ink bottles and sabotage every quill he owns.” You laughed, the tension in your chest loosening just enough. “Thanks, I think?”

“Anytime,” he said, grinning. “You’re doing fine,” Earl added, calm as ever. “Better than most.” And for the first time that evening, you believed that might be true. That maybe even the undefined had meaning. And maybe tomorrow would bring something more.

Your fingers curled around Earl Grey’s hands, seeking reassurance, seeking something that felt steady. His warmth was grounding, the weight of his certainty anchoring you even as doubt pulled at your edges. 

“…Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice quieter than before. Earl Grey’s gaze was unwavering, calm as ever, yet beneath it, there was something almost tender. 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” The world around you faded just slightly. The dim glow of the dining hall, the quiet hum of voices none of it seemed to matter as much as this moment.

Your hands remained clasped across the table, a touch that to you felt natural like time itself had woven trust between you both, like this was just another moment in the long thread of your friendship. 

But to an outsider? To someone watching from across the room? It looked like something entirely different. Chai Latte’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she masked it with a small sip of her tea. Her fingers twitched against the table, as if resisting the urge to say something. 

Hazelnut Biscotti, however, never resisted such urges. “Oh no,” he gasped, placing a hand over his chest with theatrical flair. “Are you two eloping? Has true love blossomed right before our eyes?” Hazelnut Biscotti was just jesting and his bluntness was more playful than Earl Grey’s.

Your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly knocked over your tea. “What?!” Chai Latte groaned, reaching over to lightly smack him on the arm. “Hazel, I swear-” But before she could scold him properly, something changed. A presence. A shift in the air, subtle but impossible to ignore. 

Hazelnut Biscotti, who had been grinning just a second ago, stiffened. Chai Latte’s shoulders squared, and her gaze flickered just past you. Even Earl Grey composed, unshakable Earl Grey tensed ever so slightly.

Slowly, you turned. And your breath caught. Shadow Milk Cookie stood behind you. His eyes were unreadable, sharp yet measured, scanning the scene before him your hands still clasped in Earl Grey’s, the warmth between you unmistakable, the way your friends had suddenly gone completely silent. But more than that, he felt different. The air around him carried weight, the kind of presence that made words feel insignificant. And then, your eyes dropped to his hands.

Your notebook.

Your forgotten notebook.

Your stomach twisted.

Shadow Milk Cookie lifted it slightly, his voice smooth, yet oddly restrained.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

You hesitated, barely breathing as you reached for it. Your fingers brushed against his just for a second, fleeting but tangible. His gaze did not waver. “…Thanks,” you murmured, your voice smaller than you meant it to be. For a moment, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. The world shrank down to the inches of space between you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air, thick as ink spilled over parchment. Then, slowly, his eyes shifted not to your notebook, not even to you, but to Earl Grey. You barely noticed the way Earl’s fingers subtly pulled away from yours. 

The moment stretched. Too long. Too quiet. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flickered back to yours, something unreadable in his expression something composed, but not detached. Something lingering. “Try not to leave it behind next time,” he said, his voice perfectly even. Then, without another word, he turned, steps sweeping behind him, disappearing as quickly as he came. You exhaled shakily, suddenly hyper-aware of the tension hanging in the air. 

Hazelnut Biscotti cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “…Sooo. That was dramatic.” 

Chai Latte snapped out of her daze and smacked his arm. “Hazel, shut up!” 

“I’m just saying! That was a moment.” 

Earl Grey took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, expression unreadable. “Intriguing.” But you weren’t listening. Because Shadow Milk Cookie had left. But something stayed. A presence, an impression, a lingering sense of something unspoken yet undeniable. And for the first time, you wondered…Was this a line being crossed? Or a boundary being drawn?

Your fingers curled around your notebook, grip tightening as your mind tried and failed to catch up with what had just transpired. You stared at the door Shadow Milk Cookie had disappeared through, heart pounding, an unsettled feeling creeping up your spine.

“…What just happened?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it make sense. 

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Oh, you’re in trouble.” 

You turned to him, eyes wide with something close to panic. “What do you mean I’m in trouble? Should I- should I go after him? Should I just leave it? What do I do?” 

Hazelnut leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I mean, if it were me, I’d probably start worrying about Earl here.” 

Earl Grey blinked. “Pardon?”

“Yeah,” Hazelnut continued, as if he were making some grand revelation. “You should probably watch your back from now on.” 

You paled slightly. “What? Why? What did he do”

“Relax,” he said, waving a hand dismissively as he turned to Earl Grey. “He wouldn’t do anything. You’re (y/n)’s friend. But if looks could kill? Earl’d be a goner.” 

Earl Grey exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment. “You are truly a master of easing tension.”

“I try,” Hazelnut Biscotti said, grinning. You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “No, but…what do I do?” You looked toward the door again, heart still thrumming against your ribs. “Do I go after him? Do I just pretend that didn’t happen?” 

Chai Latte finally leaned in, resting her chin in her palm, gaze softer than usual. “Well,” she said, tilting her head, “if I were him, and I walked in on that little moment between you and Earl? I’d probably be spiraling.”

You stiffened. “What…why?” Chai gestured vaguely toward where your hands had been clasped just minutes ago. “I mean, come on. If you were an outsider looking in, that whole moment looked intimate.” 

You hesitated. “But Earl and I-”

“I know it wasn’t that kind of moment,” Chai interrupted, waving a hand. “But if he did or didn’t hear the full conversation? If he just saw you two, holding hands, looking all serious and soft with each other?” 

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’d be spiraling.” Hazelnut Biscotti nodded solemnly. “I mean, you were looking at Earl Grey like he hung the stars for you.” Earl Grey sighed. “You are really not helping.”

You groaned again, covering your face with both hands. “I wasn’t! I mean, maybe a little? But that was just…he was just giving me advice! I needed to hear that from him!”

Chai tapped her fingers against the table. “And now Shadow Milk thinks you’re running off to elope.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti let out a loud snort. “You should’ve seen his face. That was the face of a man having an epiphany he wasn’t ready for.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Are you guys sure he was…?” 

Chai Latte gave you an exasperated look. “Do you really think he’d show up here just to return a notebook? He wanted to see you.” You opened your mouth, then closed it.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no no no.” Hazelnut Biscotti clapped a hand over his mouth, clearly thriving on your panic. “They’re realizing.” Earl Grey, ever composed, simply sighed. “Would you like to calm down before you decide what to do?” 

You didn’t respond immediately. Your brain was moving too fast, rewinding through every interaction you’d ever had with Shadow Milk Cookie, trying to pinpoint the exact moment you had somehow caused this mess.

“I have to talk to him,” you said finally, voice firm even though your heart was still a frantic mess. Chai Latte smiled, just slightly. “That’s probably a good idea.” Hazelnut Biscotti looked vaguely disappointed. “So no eloping?” 

Chai smacked his arm. “Shut up.” You barely registered their bickering, already grabbing your notebook and standing on shaky legs. Whatever just happened you needed answers. You barely registered the scrape of your chair as you pushed back from the table, the voices of your friends fading into background noise as your pulse roared in your ears.

You had to go after him.

Your legs carried you before your mind fully caught up, weaving through the dining hall’s thinning crowd, past lingering students, out into the dim corridors of the Academy. You caught a glimpse of him ahead, his clothes moving fluidly with every step, his pace measured but unwavering. He wasn’t storming off, wasn’t making a scene, but there was a distance in his stride that you felt.

A deliberate parting.

The kind that hurt.

“Shadow Milk!”

Your voice cut through the hush of the hall, sharp, urgent. Eyes watching but he didn’t stop. You picked up your pace, practically jogging to catch up, your heart hammering wildly.

“Shadow Milk Cookie, wait!”

At last, he halted.

But he didn’t turn right away.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the subtle way his hands curled into fists at his sides before relaxing again. It was as if he was composing himself building walls you hadn’t even realized you were capable of breaking. When he finally faced you, his eyes were not cold, not indifferent, but guarded.

“I returned your notebook,” he said, voice even.

“That’s not-” You exhaled sharply, stepping closer. “That’s not the only reason why you left.” 

“No,” he admitted. You hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. But there was something else in the way he looked at you, something just beneath the surface, something aching. You swallowed. “Then why?”

His gaze flickered, just barely. Then, in a voice quieter but no less sharp.

“You turned to him.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“Earl Grey Cookie,” he said, his expression unwavering. “You looked to him for the answers you sought. Not me.”

A strange, unfamiliar panic clawed its way up your throat. “I-I didn’t” You took another step forward, shaking your head. “That wasn’t-”

“You asked him,” Shadow Milk continued, and this time, there was an edge to his voice, something rawer than you’d ever heard from him before. “You held his hands. You let him be the one to give you certainty.” You stared at him, chest tightening. How much had he heard? Not like it mattered but still. You wondered if he had really good hearing, or if you lacked spatial awareness…maybe both. Still you had to say something anything.

“Because you never do!” The words left you before you could stop them, too loud, too vulnerable. They hung in the space between you, trembling, fragile. Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes darkened just slightly. “And do you believe I would give you falsehoods?”

“No!” You ran a hand through your hair, exasperated. “That’s not what I…god, you always do this! You always make me untangle things myself, always guide me but never say anything outright! I needed something clear, something solid!” Something you wouldn’t dance around like a riddle. Something you wouldn’t have to question.

His jaw tightened just slightly. “And you believed Earl Grey was the one to provide that?” 

You faltered, breath uneven. “I just” You swallowed, hands curling into fists at your sides. “I don’t know. Maybe. I needed to hear it from someone. That what I feel is real.”

“And my actions have not made it real?” His voice was lower now, careful, but lined with something sharp. 

Your heart twisted. “That’s not what I meant,” you whispered. A silence stretched between you, heavy and taut. Then, quietly he asked “Do you not trust me?”

Your breath stilled.

You looked up at him, at the slight furrow in his brow, at the rare, barely perceptible hesitance in his expression. His eyes held you in place, searching; waiting.

“I do,” you murmured. “I do trust you.”

Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for the briefest moment. “Then tell me, scholar.” His voice was softer now, but no less serious. “What is it that you seek from me?”

You hesitated.

“I-” Your fingers trembled at your sides. “I don’t know.” A long pause.

“Would you like me to name it?” Your breath caught. Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze was steady, unreadable. His posture was composed, but there was something behind it, something that made your chest ache. For a moment, you stood frozen, the weight of the question pressing against your ribs.

Would you?

Would having a name for this make it easier? Would it make it real in a way you were both too scared to face? This is what you wanted is it not?

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Shadow Milk studied you for a long moment, then, without a word, he let out a quiet breath.

“…Then we wait.” 

You swallowed thickly. “…Wait?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable once more. “Until you are ready to cross the line you claim neither of us dares to step over.” 

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding came out shakily. He wasn’t giving you riddles. He was giving you the choice. The realization hit you with startling clarity. Shadow Milk had never been holding you back. He had been waiting for you to step forward. You let out something between a breathless laugh and a sigh, rubbing your temples. “You’re impossible.”

A faint hum. “So I’ve been told.”

You glanced up at him, expression softening. “Shadow Milk-” He tilted his head slightly. “Yes?”

You studied him for a moment, the way he watched you patient, unwavering, genuine

“…I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmured.

Shadow Milk’s lips curled, barely perceptible. “Tomorrow,” he echoed.

You walked back toward your friends, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in your chest like an unfinished sentence, words unsaid, truths skirted around, both of you sidestepping the things that felt too fragile, too dangerous to bring into the light. Nothing had been resolved. Not really. All you had done was push it aside, tuck it neatly away like a book neither of you were ready to read, ignoring the way the pages still ached to be turned.

And so, you let it rest for now. When you reached your table, the atmosphere had simmered down. The initial chaos of your sudden departure had faded, replaced by the quiet hum of conversation, half-eaten plates, and stolen glances in your direction. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was the first to speak.

“Hey, uh-” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely sheepish. “Sorry about earlier. I got a little carried away.” His gaze flicked to Chai Latte. “I’m apologizing…Partly because someone nearly yanked my arm out of its socket.”

Chai Latte huffed, arms crossed. “You deserved it.”

“But also because I-” He exhaled, looking at you more seriously. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I thought I was being funny, but I should’ve read the room better.”

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “It’s okay, really.”

“It’s not, though.” Hazelnut Biscotti frowned. “That was a whole thing. And I guess I kinda made it into even more of a thing.”

Earl Grey Cookie, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. “It’s not your fault,” he said smoothly, setting his teacup down with precise grace.

“And perhaps… maybe I was in the wrong. A little bit.” Chai Latte immediately turned to him, eyes narrowing. “Oh, don’t you start.” 

Earl Grey gave her a look of polite skepticism. “You don’t think I was at least partially responsible?”

“You did nothing wrong,” Chai declared, shaking her head. “Seriously, what is with all of you acting like you committed some grand crime?” 

Hazelnut Biscotti raised a hand. “To be fair, you literally just scolded me.”

“Yes, because you turned it into a whole dramatic scene,” Chai shot back, before gesturing vaguely to Earl Grey. “But him? He was just sitting there, minding his own business, and then boom he’s caught in some weird, unspoken relationship war.” 

You winced. “Please don’t call it that.”

“Then what should I call it?” Chai asked, giving you an exasperated look. You hesitated, lips pressing together. Chai let out a long sigh. “See? This is the problem.” 

Hazelnut snorted into his drink. “She’s got a point.” 

Earl Grey, ever composed, simply hummed. “Regardless, I meant what I said earlier,” he said, meeting your gaze with something softer than his usual impassiveness. “You’re not alone in this.”

Your chest ached, but in a way that felt warm. “…Thanks,” you murmured. 

Chai Latte reached out and flicked your forehead lightly. “You stress me out,” she grumbled. “I’m stealing your desserts for a week.”

“That’s excessive,” you protested. She raised a brow. “You’ll let me.” You groaned, but didn’t argue. The tension from earlier wasn’t entirely gone but here, in the company of your friends, it didn’t feel as suffocating. Though nothing was fixed not yet it was enough to know that you didn’t have to carry it alone. Still though, Chai latte just had to ask…

“Soooo…What happened?” 

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as you finally finished recounting everything. Your friends sat in varying states of contemplation, processing the storm of emotions you had just unraveled before them. 

Hazelnut Biscotti was the first to break the silence. “…Okay, first of all, damn.” 

Chai Latte Cookie let out a slow, theatrical breath, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I told you this was a slow-burn academic tragedy waiting to happen.”

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, leaned back slightly, studying you. “So… that’s where you left things?” His voice was careful, like he was handling something delicate. 

You nodded, still feeling the echo of Shadow Milk’s words in your chest. “Yeah. I-I don’t know if I handled it right. He looked… I don’t know. Disappointed? Or maybe just done with this whole thing.”

Chai Latte shook her head. “No, no, no…he’s not done. He just threw the ball into your court. He’s waiting.” Hazelnut Biscotti looked deep in thought. “I mean… he literally asked if you wanted him to name it. You could’ve had all the answers right then and there.” 

You groaned, dropping your head onto the table. “I know! But I panicked!” 

Earl Grey sighed, fingers steepled. “It’s understandable. Naming something makes it real.”

“Exactly,” you muttered, lifting your head just slightly. “And what if once we say it, we can’t go back? What if it changes everything? What if I’m wrong?” 

Chai gave you a pointed look. “Are you?”

You hesitated. “No,” you admitted softly. 

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “There it is.” 

Chai clapped her hands together. “Alright, so you do love him.” You immediately recoiled. “I never said-!”

“You never denied,” she sing-songed, leaning in closer.

Earl Grey merely raised a brow. “You have feelings for him. That much is clear.” You rolled your eyes, feeling entirely too seen. 

Hazelnut Biscotti snickered. “I’m just saying, if you’re gonna elope with him, warn us first. I need to know what kind of outfit is required for a ‘Fount of Knowledge’ wedding.” 

Chai immediately turned and shook him. “Shut up.” Earl Grey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hazelnut, please.”

You could feel your face burning. “We are not eloping!” Hazelnut Biscotti only grinned. “Yet.”

You buried your face in your hands again. “I hate all of you.” Chai patted your shoulder, but there was an undeniable gleam in her eyes. “You love us.” You muttered something incomprehensible into your hands. 

Earl Grey, sensing that you were moments from combusting, redirected the conversation. “Jokes aside,” he said evenly, “you’re going to have to talk to him again.”

You let out a breath, still not looking up. “I know.” Chai nudged your side. “And what’s the plan?”

“…Survive.”

Hazelnut Biscotti shot you a glance. “Not a great plan.” 

Earl Grey sighed. “At least be honest with yourself.” You let your hands fall from your face, finally looking up at them at the concern, the support, the absolute lack of judgment.

“…I just need time,” you admitted. Chai Latte gave you a soft smile. “Then take it. But don’t take forever.” 

Hazelnut raised his cup. “To our poor, lovesick friend, may they figure this mess out before we all die of old age.” You groaned but clinked your cup against his anyway.

Earl Grey simply shook his head, but you could see the quiet amusement in his eyes. You sighed, slumping forward onto the table, your hands tangled in your hair as the weight of everything settled heavily in your chest.

“So, what do I do?” you asked, your voice muffled. “I didn’t fix anything. We didn’t actually talk about it. I just ran after him, panicked, and now it feels like we shoved everything under the rug again.” 

Chai Latte Cookie hummed, sipping her tea before giving you a thoughtful look. “Well… you could talk to him.”

Hazelnut Biscotti snorted. “A revolutionary idea.” 

You shot him a glare. “You know what I mean. What if he’s actually upset with me? What if he thinks I don’t trust him? What if I made things worse?” 

Earl Grey Cookie tapped his fingers against the table. “Do you really believe that?”

You hesitated.

“...I don’t know,” you admitted, pressing your forehead against your palm. “Maybe? I mean, he did leave. That means something, right? If he wasn’t upset, he would’ve stayed.” 

Chai Latte reached out, flicking your arm lightly. “He was upset. But not in the way you think. If he was actually angry at you, do you really think he would’ve stood there, listened to you, offered to name whatever it is between you?”

Earl Grey nodded. “He’s waiting. That much is clear. But you’re right about one thing, this conversation isn’t over. It’s just on hold.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “So, how do you unpause it?” You stared at the table, feeling the pit of uncertainty clawing at your stomach. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I want to talk to him, but how do I even start? ‘Hey, sorry I looked to someone else for answers because I was scared of what yours would be’? Yeah, that sounds great.”

Chai sighed dramatically. “If only there were a world-renowned scholar of truth and knowledge who could help you work through the answers you’re looking for.” You shot her a flat look. “Helpful.”

“I am helpful,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But seriously, you’re overthinking this.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti snickered. “Like that’s new.” Earl Grey ignored him. “Start simple. He’s always been someone who gives you the space to figure things out, hasn’t he?”

You frowned. “Yeah…”

“Then take that space. But don’t leave it empty,” Earl Grey said. “If you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding the conversation entirely, show him that you’re still there.” 

Chai smirked. “Or, you know, just ambush him in his office and demand he help you understand what you want.”

“That’s what I always do,” you groaned. Hazelnut clapped your shoulder. “Then you’re already ahead of the curve.” You shook your head, laughing despite the tightness in your chest. “You guys are terrible at giving normal advice.”

“We’re terrible at normal in general,” Chai corrected. Earl Grey sipped his tea. “You don’t need a perfect plan. Just take a step forward.” You exhaled, rubbing your temples. “Alright. Fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Hazelnut grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now, if you do elope, can I officiate?” Chai immediately lunged at him, and you buried your face in your hands again. You had no idea how you were going to fix this. You let out a groan, dragging your hands down your face before dropping your head onto the table.

“Why doesn’t he just take the lead?” you grumbled, voice muffled by the wood. “Why does it always have to be me asking the questions? Why does he answer every single one with another question? Shouldn’t he be the one to fix things?”

Chai Latte Cookie let out a soft snort, sipping her tea with amusement. “You do realize who you’re talking about, right?” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Yeah, we’re talking about the Sage of Truth. Mr. ‘The Answers Lie Within You,’ Mr. ‘Have You Considered the Implications of Your Own Inquiry?’ Mr.-”

“Alright, alright,” you groaned, waving a hand to cut him off. “I get it.” 

Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, tilted his head slightly. “Do you really want him to ‘fix’ this? Or do you want him to say something you’re too afraid to say first?” You huffed, crossing your arms. “Both.”

Chai Latte smirked. “Oh, so now you want him to tell you what to do?”

You slumped further into your seat. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” You lifted your head just enough to glare at them. “I’m allowed to rant.”

Hazelnut Biscotti leaned back, grinning. “Of course. Please, go on about how the all-knowing scholar should do all the emotional labor for you.”

You groaned again, flopping back into your chair. “I don’t mean it like that! It’s just…he always makes me figure things out on my own. Even now, when it’s us. It’s like he’s waiting for me to piece together some grand revelation, and I’m just” You gestured wildly. “floundering around like an idiot.”

Chai Latte patted your shoulder, not unkindly. “Sweetheart, you’re always floundering.”

“Not helping.”

Earl Grey, who had been quietly observing, finally sighed. “He’s not doing this to frustrate you.” You huffed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“He’s giving you control,” Earl Grey continued, voice calm. “If he were to take the lead and define this for you, that would mean he’s the one deciding what it is. That’s not how he operates. You know that.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to argue but then you paused. Because, well… he wasn’t wrong. Shadow Milk Cookie never imposed his truth onto others. That wasn’t his way. He let others seek, find, discover and let them come to their own conclusions. So of course, when it came to this, to you he wasn’t going to define it for you.

You slumped, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Ugh.”

Hazelnut Biscotti raised a brow. “That’s it? Just ‘ugh’?”

“Yes.” You gestured vaguely. “Just… ugh.”

Chai Latte laughed. “You really are hopeless.” 

Earl Grey simply took another sip of tea. “You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.” You sighed. “I know.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti smirked. “But for the record, if you do decide to confess dramatically, let me know so I can sell tickets.”

Chai Latte smacked him on the arm. This was going to be a long night. Not just for you, but for poor Hazelnut’s arm…

The following day anxiety ate away at your will. The sun had barely crested the horizon when the four of you found yourselves huddled together in the main hall, where the announcement would be posted. 

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with anticipation and unspoken prayers. The events of the night prior still lingered in your mind Shadow Milk Cookie, his unreadable expression, the weight of everything left unsaid but right now, there was only this.

The results.

The Spire of Knowledge’s early decisions.

Chai Latte Cookie bounced on the balls of her feet, hands clasped together like she was physically holding herself back from sprinting straight to the notice board. 

“I hate this,” she whispered dramatically. “Why do they make it feel like we’re awaiting some divine judgment? Just post the names and let us live.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie cracked his knuckles, squinting at the large parchment still being pinned to the board by one of the faculty assistants. “I say we just charge in. Strength in numbers. If we’re gonna be disappointed, let’s at least be disappointed together.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching at your sides. The weight of weeks, months of inadvertent effort, of sleepless nights and endless study sessions, pressed against your chest. 

You thought of the research statement, the carefully compiled portfolio, the nights spent poring over notes until your vision blurred. You thought of Shadow Milk Cookie’s revisions, of the way he had taken your work and strengthened it with a precision only he could wield.

You thought of him, and what it would mean if your name wasn’t there. Earl Grey Cookie, the only one among you who appeared remotely composed, adjusted his cuffs. “It’s posted,” he murmured. 

Chai Latte let out a tiny noise of distress. The four of you exchanged glances. Then, all at once, you surged forward. The notice board loomed in front of you, names scrawled in elegant script beneath the seal of the Academy. Students rushing towards the board didn’t help your anxiety. Your eyes scanned frantically, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

Then-

You found it.

Your name.

It was there.

You got in.

A sharp breath left you, disbelief crashing over you in waves. For a moment, you could only stare, the words blurring as something deep and overwhelming settled into your bones. Relief. Joy. Maybe even a little fear, knowing what came next.

“YES!” Chai Latte Cookie practically screamed. “WE DID IT!” Your head snapped toward the list again, your hands shaking as you searched for their names. There, Earl Grey Cookie. Chai Latte Cookie. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie.

All of you.

You all got in.

“Holy!” Hazelnut Biscotti choked out a laugh, gripping Earl Grey Cookie’s shoulder and shaking him slightly. “We did it! We actually ha!” 

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning like a fool. “This isn’t a dream, right?” Earl Grey Cookie exhaled slowly, a rare, pleased smile tugging at his lips. “It would appear that it is not.”

“Oh my gods,” Chai Latte Cookie wheezed, clutching your arm like she needed to steady herself. 

“I was so ready to start crying. I was so ready to throw myself into the abyss of despair.” Hazelnut Biscotti laughed, light and full of life, and suddenly, it felt real. You turned back to your name, tracing over the letters with your eyes like they might vanish if you blinked too hard. You did it.

You were going to the Spire.

You let out a breathless laugh, your chest feeling so full you thought you might burst. Your friends were still celebrating beside you Chai Latte was gripping Earl Grey Cookie’s sleeve and shaking it wildly, Hazelnut Biscotti was dramatically wiping an invisible tear from his eye but all you could do was stare at your name, committing it to memory. 

Then, without thinking, you turned to them, voice shaking with laughter. “We actually did it.” Chai Latte Cookie let out a small, breathless sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sob. “We did.” Hazelnut Biscotti threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning ear to ear. “You’re stuck with us now. There’s no going back.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a quiet chuckle, nodding. “Indeed. The Spire won’t know what hit it.” And as the excitement buzzed through the air, filling the space between you and them, between the past and the future, between the uncertainty of last night and the surety of this moment.  You realized something.

Even with all the unanswered questions.

Even with the ache in your chest that hadn’t yet faded.

Right now, this was enough.

For just a little while longer, you let yourself celebrate.

The moment the realization hit that you had made it, that all of you had made it was the same moment the rest of the Academy surged forward. Or perhaps in your own excitement you hadn’t noticed it…

A tidal wave of students pressed in, eager, desperate to see their own names among the chosen. The quiet tension that had filled the hall just moments ago shattered into an excited frenzy as hopeful scholars rushed to the board, jostling against one another, voices rising in overlapping cries of victory, disbelief, and, in some cases, quiet disappointment.

The four of you barely had a moment to bask in your triumph before the wave of bodies closed in. “Oh!” Chai Latte Cookie yelped as she was nearly knocked off balance, gripping your sleeve like a lifeline. “Chaos! Absolute chaos! I love it!” 

“MOVE!” a particularly aggressive student bellowed, elbowing their way toward the list. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie barely sidestepped a flailing arm. “Okay! Okay! We got our results, time to retreat!”

“We can’t retreat!” Chai Latte Cookie shot back, clinging to you as the crowd pressed in tighter. “We have to bask!”

“There is no basking in a stampede,” Earl Grey Cookie muttered, though even he had to take a careful step back, his usual composure momentarily disturbed by the sheer force of bodies colliding around him. You barely managed to keep your footing as someone stumbled past, their arm nearly knocking the air from your lungs. 

The press of students was relentless, an eager, anxious current sweeping through the hall like a flood. For every scholar who cried out in joy, another walked away in tense silence, their shoulders stiff with disappointment. For the four of you, though for you and your friends it was nothing but exhilaration.

“We did it,” you gasped out, ducking slightly as someone leaned in too close to read the names. “We actually did it.”

“Yes, and we will continue doing it if we can get out of here alive,” Earl Grey Cookie noted dryly. Chai Latte Cookie beamed, gripping Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s arm as she practically bounced in place. “I thrive in this energy. It’s like an academic battlefield.”

“We need to move before someone accidentally takes us out,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, already maneuvering away from the thickest part of the crowd. 

You didn’t argue. Pushing through the mass of bodies wasn’t easy, but eventually, the four of you managed to escape, stumbling into the open hallway where the air was clearer, where you could breathe. Eventually finding a table. And that’s when it finally sank in.

No more wondering.

No more waiting.

No more agonizing over whether your name would be there.

You were going to the Spire of Knowledge.

Chai Latte Cookie turned to all of you, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. Then, suddenly, brightly she laughed. “We did it.”

This time, there was no rush of students, no chaotic crowd, no distractions.

Just the four of you.

Just the weight of this moment.

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We did.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on its two back legs. “Okay, but why does it feel like such a big deal? The Spire is literally brand new. It’s not like there are centuries of tradition tied to it.” 

You sighed, tapping your fingers against your tea cup. “Because it’s not just about the Spire. It’s about him.”

Chai Latte Cookie pointed at you in triumph. “See? You get it!” 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course, I do. The Spire is being built in his name. It’s not just an extension of the Academy…it’s his legacy.”

Earl Grey Cookie gave a small nod. “Exactly. The ceremony isn’t just for the scholars who got accepted. It’s also for Shadow Milk Cookie; he's being formally named the Fount of Knowledge. That title isn’t just honorary. It means he’s the first of his kind, the foundation upon which the Spire will be built.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle. “No pressure or anything.” 

You let out a slow breath, staring down at the steam curling from your cup. You’d known all of this, but hearing it said aloud framed like this made it feel heavier. Chai Latte Cookie, of course, picked up on it immediately. “And you,” she added, leaning in with a grin, “get to have a front-row seat to all of it.” 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’m literally just a student. And you know we won’t be in the front row.”

Chai Latte Cookie gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “How dare you reduce yourself to such a common title! You are his student. The most special student.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned. “Maybe he’ll mention you in his speech.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped again, dramatically this time. “‘To my most persistent and exasperating scholar…’”

You deadpanned. “Can we not do this right now?” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, but his voice was even. “It’s understandable if it feels overwhelming. This is more than just an achievement for you it’s entwined with him.”

That was the part that made your stomach twist. Because of course it was entwined with him. Your acceptance into the Spire, your entire academic growth, everything had been shaped by him in some way. He had challenged you, guided you, waited for you in ways that even now you weren’t entirely sure how to name. 

And now, as the Spire’s foundation settled into place, he was at the center of it. Chai Latte Cookie gave you a softer look, resting her chin on her palm. “Have you even asked him how he feels about all of this?”

You blinked. “…I guess not.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nudged your arm. “You should. You are his” He wiggled his brows. “favorite.” 

Chai Latte Cookie clasped her hands together. “Ooooh, what if he really does mention you in his speech? ‘And to the scholar who nearly burned down my office…’”

“I hate all of you. And for the record I didn’t come close to burning anything…I just thought I could do a magic trick…”

Earl Grey Cookie sipped his tea, unconcerned. 

You sighed, shaking your head. “Okay, so just to clarify…there’s no dramatic tradition yet, right? No elaborate robes, no candlelit rites of passage, no century-old academic oaths?”

Chai Latte Cookie shrugged. “Nope. Just a very official ceremony.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “With him in the spotlight.”

Chai Latte Cookie shot you a knowing look. “And you watching from the front row.” 

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table before finally blurting out, "I have to face him today." 

Your friends stilled for a moment before Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a low whistle, setting his cup down with exaggerated care. “Wow. You sound like you’re about to march into battle.”

Chai Latte Cookie, ever dramatic, pressed a hand to her forehead. “A noble warrior, braving the battlefield of emotional confrontation.” You shot her a flat look. “I mean it. I can’t just ignore what happened last night. If I don’t talk to him, it’s just gonna sit there, all weird and unspoken.”

Earl Grey Cookie hummed, ever composed. “That does seem like the wisest course of action.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “Yeah, no offense, but watching you both avoid the actual problem is kind of exhausting.” 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I know! And I hate it! Why does he always answer my questions with more questions? Why can’t he just take the lead for once and fix things?” Chai Latte Cookie grinned, resting her chin on her palm. “Oh, you’re mad mad.”

“I’m frustrated,” you corrected, lifting your head. “Why does everything have to be a slow-burn philosophical riddle with him? I ask him one thing, and suddenly I’m left wondering if I even know what I’m asking.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pointed at you. “That’s a you problem.” You shot him a betrayed look. Earl Grey Cookie finally sighed, placing his teacup down.

“You should know by now that Shadow Milk Cookie has never been the kind to force things. He waits. He guides. But he will not define this for you, no matter how much you want him to.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “…So it is on me.”

Chai Latte Cookie shrugged. “Pretty much.” You inhaled deeply, then exhaled through your nose. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix yesterday. And then we can all sit in a circle and sing kumbaya together like civilized people.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie burst out laughing. “Oh yeah. That’s totally what’s gonna happen.” Earl Grey Cookie gave you a knowing look. “You’re aware this might not resolve everything in one conversation.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I have to try.” 

Chai Latte Cookie grinned, nudging your arm. “That’s the spirit. Now go on, brave scholar. Face your fate.” You huffed, rolling your eyes but standing anyway. Your heart pounded as you pushed back from the table, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. This wasn’t going to be easy. But nothing worth holding onto ever was.You marched down the corridors of the Scholar’s Wing with renewed determination, your friends’ words still echoing in your ears. Face it. Fix it. That was the plan. No more avoiding. No more waiting. The heavy wooden door of Shadow Milk Cookie’s office loomed ahead, its familiar presence oddly reassuring. You knocked thrice out of habit more than anything before pushing it open, already preparing to dive straight into conversation.

But the room was empty.

You blinked.

For a moment, you hesitated, hand still gripping the door handle as you scanned the space. The usual air of careful organization lingered the scent of parchment, ink, and something faintly celestial. The room looked exactly as it always did, as if time itself hesitated to disturb it in his absence.

But he wasn’t here.

You frowned. It wasn’t like him to leave his office unlocked if he wasn’t expecting someone. Did he step out for a moment? Get caught in some impromptu meeting? You had no idea. 

Your gaze drifted toward his desk. More specifically, his chair. It looked… comfortable. Too comfortable for someone who spent so much time seated in it. Sturdy, elegant, high-backed and well-worn from years of use. 

The kind of chair that radiated both authority and the promise of unparalleled back support. You glanced at the door behind you. Then back at the chair. Well. He wasn’t here. And you’d come all this way. What was the harm? Without a second thought, you strode forward and lowered yourself into the seat. And immediately understood why he sat here so often.

“Ohhh,” you muttered under your breath, leaning back against the plush cushion. “This is dangerous.” The chair cradled you in luxury, the perfect balance of support and comfort. 

You stretched your arms over your head before resting them against the armrests with a sigh of satisfaction. No wonder he always looked so composed. With a chair like this, you could solve existential dilemmas and nap without consequence. 

Your gaze flicked to the neatly stacked papers on the desk. From here, the entire office looked different. His perspective, not yours. This was where he sat when he pondered over ancient texts, where he rested his chin in thought while listening to you struggle through complex theories.

A strange thrill ran through you at the thought. You drummed your fingers against the desk. I could get used to this. Smirking slightly to yourself, you mimicked his usual poised demeanor, lacing your fingers together and resting your chin atop them. “Hmmm,” you mused in your best impression of his voice, “and what is it, that you wish to unravel today?” You snorted at your own ridiculousness, shaking your head. Maybe this was the real source of his power an excellent chair and a great vantage point.

You barely had time to revel in your success before you heard the faint click of the door handle turning behind you.

Your stomach plummeted.

Oh no. 

The second you heard the door handle turn, panic took over. Every logical thought vanished, replaced by one singular, all-consuming instinct: hide.

Without thinking, you dropped.

One second you were basking in the absolute power of Shadow Milk Cookie’s chair; the next, you were crouched on the floor, heart hammering in your chest, palms pressed against the cool stone beneath you.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You barely had time to scramble into a somewhat reasonable position before the door swung open. Footsteps graceful, measured, and all too familiar crossed the threshold. You squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, bracing yourself. Silence.

“…I see,” came the calm, level voice of Shadow Milk Cookie. You did not see. You didn’t see anything. You were on the floor. You cracked one eye open. From your incredibly dignified position below the desk, you could just barely make out his shoes and the pointed dip of his shadow against the floor. He hadn’t moved past the doorway yet, meaning he was

Probably staring at this entire mess. Slowly, carefully, you tilted your head up just a fraction. Shadow Milk Cookie stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on you. He was holding a book in one hand, as if he’d been carrying it absentmindedly. His brows were slightly raised, but beyond that, he conveyed nothing. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Dare I ask,” he continued smoothly, “what you are doing?” Your mind went blank. Every excuse you could think of was horrible. 

There was no reasonable explanation for this. You scrambled for words, for dignity, for anything. “I uh” You cleared your throat, shifting slightly. “I was looking for something.”

He blinked. “Under my desk?”

“Y-yes?”

Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression did not change. “And did you find it?”

You hesitated. “Not… yet?” A pause.

“I see.”

You had no idea what he saw, but you knew it was bad. Your hands twitched against the floor. Should you just commit to this? Stay here forever? Was this your life now? He took one step closer, barely brushing the edge of the desk. “And, if I may, what exactly were you searching for?” You opened your mouth then shut it. You could not say ‘my dignity.’

“…Something important,” you said vaguely. Another silence. Then, to your absolute horror, his voice dropped into something… thoughtful. “I could assist,” he mused, as if genuinely considering it. “If it is so crucial, surely a second pair of eyes would-”

“NO.”

Your panic made your voice slightly too loud, slightly too fast. You winced immediately. Shadow Milk Cookie arched a single, elegant brow. You scrambled, waving your hands. “I mean no, no need. I got it! All good!”

 “…Is that so?” 

“Yep. I-uh-I should probably get up now.” Shadow Milk Cookie gestured, utterly composed. “By all means.”

Very slowly, very awkwardly, you shuffled out from under the desk, brushing off nonexistent dust and avoiding his gaze as much as possible. You straightened your back, willing yourself to look casual completely normal.

His eyes flickered to the chair.

Back to you.

A moment passed.

“…You sat in it, didn’t you?”

You froze.

Your silence was incriminating enough. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled, closing his eyes briefly, as if collecting some last shred of patience. “I would ask if it was everything you dreamed,” he murmured, “but I suspect I already know the answer.” 

You, still wildly off balance, had the audacity to cross your arms. “Listen, in my defense-”

“There is no defense.”

“You weren’t here!” Shadow Milk Cookie sighed through his nose, shaking his head in a way that somehow managed to be fond despite everything. You, still flustered beyond repair, threw your hands up. “Okay, fine! I sat in the chair. It was dangerously comfortable. But you weren’t here, so what was I supposed to do? Stand? Like some kind of commoner?”

“You are a student,” he pointed out.

“Semantics.”

“Order.”

“Semantics.”

A long, drawn-out sigh. “You are truly impossible.” 

You grinned, recovering just barely. “And yet, here I stand. Not banished from your office.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a slow, unreadable look. Then, finally he turned, setting his book down atop the desk. “For now.” Your victory was minor, but you took it.

And as he settled into his chair, you couldn’t help but eye it one last time, mourning the sheer luxury you had just lost. Maybe if you were subtle, you could try again. The playful air between you wavered. Just slightly. Because even though Shadow Milk Cookie matched your banter with effortless grace, even though he sighed in that way that made it seem like you were merely an amusing puzzle to him yesterday still lingered between you, unspoken, unresolved. You could pretend things were fine. He certainly wouldn’t stop you.

But as he settled into his chair, the one you had just vacated you hesitated. Your gaze flickered up to his, searching. He didn’t look upset, not exactly. But he was composed in that way that felt too careful, like a book shut too quickly before you could finish reading the last sentence. It made something in your chest tighten. You fidgeted slightly, fingers curling against the hem of your sleeve. “…Are we okay?”

Shadow Milk Cookie stilled. For a moment, the room was quiet just the faint hum of the enchantments woven into the walls, the soft rustle of his sleeves as he adjusted his posture. Then he sighed, long and slow, like the weight of the question was something he had already anticipated.

“I have no quarrel with you,” he said, voice as even as ever. That wasn’t the same as we’re okay.

A/N So it's been a while since I last posted so sorry to keep you all starved, I hope this makes up for it next chapter is coming out soon just need to finish editing it but I thought may as well let you guys read this while I finish ch 26 edits and revisions, I have to say I'm not entirely happy with this chapter but I hope that I'm just being overly critical of my own work.

Anyways....

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥

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