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22ayla21 · 3 months ago

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Fathers and Their Children Part II

The Twisted Wonderland boys as fathers.

Third year Second year First year

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle, being a proponent of order, tries to raise his children with discipline, but after the events of his youth, he realizes that excessive strictness can be harmful. He demands respect, but doesn't turn his home into a barracks. He has certain rules (like "Don't play with food at the table" and "Do your homework before sunset"), but he's no longer the boy who blindly followed his mother's rigid norms.

Although he doesn't always express his feelings in words, his children know he loves them. He's willing to sit by a sick child's bedside at night, gently tucking in their blanket as they fall asleep, and brew their favorite tea if they've had a tough day.

He's proud of his son, especially when he shows intelligence and diligence in his studies. However, he's very soft towards his daughter—she's the only one who can persuade him to break a rule or simply give in to her cute eyes. If she asks for a little more time before bed or an extra cookie, he initially shakes his head sternly, but a few minutes later, he gives in.

When his mother comes to visit, the atmosphere in the house immediately becomes tense. She thinks Riddle is too lenient with the children and tries to impose her "order." For example, she might criticize her son for his too "weak" control over the family, demanding that the children sit with perfectly straight backs and eat only "proper" food.

• The children try to escape her in any way possible. If she comes, they suddenly become "very busy" in their rooms or find urgent errands outside.

• The son sometimes openly protests, saying, "Dad, you're not going to make me sit and listen to her for hours, are you?!"

• The daughter initially tries to be polite but then just hides behind her mom.

Despite his strictness, he tries to instill in his children truly important principles: respect, responsibility, and a thirst for knowledge. He's proud that his son and daughter aren't afraid to voice their opinions, even if they contradict his views.

Sometimes, when no one is watching, he allows himself to be just a dad, not a strict head of the family. He might play chess with the children or even magic games, although he later pretends it was purely "for educational purposes."

If the children misbehave, he doesn't yell or make a scene. Instead, he gives them logical punishments: for example, skipping dinner (but with tea, because he's not cruel) or writing an essay on why it's important to respect rules. But if someone hurts each other or anyone else—then he's truly strict.

Riddle isn't perfect, but he tries to be the best father he can be. His children help him understand that sometimes it's okay to just be happy, even if the world around them isn't perfect.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie, of course, loves his son, but raising a child is a real headache. He might grumble when the boy makes a mess or asks too many questions, but deep down, he's proud of how clever and cunning the kid is becoming.

His son is a real little rascal. He quickly figures out how to get what he wants with minimal effort: "Dad, if I help you clean up, will you give me a meat pie?" Ruggie initially laughs, but then realizes that's exactly how he taught him.

Although he's quite relaxed about parenting, he won't let his son be lazy or slack off. If the boy starts being too blatantly cunning, he'll put him in his place: "Listen, son, if you want to be smart, at least don't show it."

Ruggie believes it's important for his son to be able to take care of himself. He teaches him to cook, find easy ways to earn money, and even pull off small adventures: "If you want a tasty meal, help get it first!"

If he's spending time with his wife, his son is sure to periodically steal his mother's attention. For example, he might sit between them when they're relaxing or deliberately demand that Mom read him a story instead of Dad. Ruggie just sighs, "Well, you've got quite the character, little bandit..."

Sometimes, he's surprised to see how independent his son is becoming. It fills him with both pride and a slight melancholy, because once this little one held onto his tail, and now he's handling his own affairs.

When his son starts laughing, the sound is a mix of childish giggles and Ruggie's signature "hyena laugh." He's scared people more than once by suddenly bursting into loud laughter at an inappropriate moment. Ruggie just smirks, "Oh, why are you so scared? It's just a kid!"

Ruggie teaches him the main principle: "You can be smart, you can be strong, but it's best to be flexible." He passes on his experience, but also allows his son to make his own mistakes so he can learn from them.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul thought his daughter would be a perfect, obedient child who would share his love for intellectual games and business. However, reality turned out to be more complicated: the little girl was too curious, energetic, and inherited his cunning mind, but was much more free-spirited than he expected.

Azul often tries to act like a strict but fair father, but his daughter has a special talent for disarming him with her spontaneity. If she tugs on his sleeve with a sincere "Daddy, play with me," he, of course, initially feigns displeasure, but eventually gives in, especially if Floyd is nearby and already hinting that "daddy's a wimp."

The daughter inherited his traits: on land, she looks like a regular human, but when she gets wet, she turns into an octopus. This was a surprise for Azul, but he quickly adapted. However, he's very worried about how she'll perceive her dual nature. He remembers suffering from insecurity himself, so he does everything to make his daughter not feel inferior and be proud of who she is.

The first time the little girl realized she wasn't like the other kids on land, she was scared. Azul gently explained to her that it was her strength, not her weakness. Inspired by his own experience, he showed her how to use her extra limbs in the water—for example, to play with multiple toys at once or scare Uncle Floyd.

Azul tends to be overprotective of his daughter, especially when it comes to water. He fears she might be rejected like he was as a child. He even considered limiting her contact with water, but eventually realized it wasn't the solution. Instead, he teaches her to be proud but discreet—"use your power, but don't show it off to everyone."

He started teaching his daughter business skills early. At five, she could already negotiate for extra sweets, and at seven, she could give him such a convincing look that he'd sign a "contract" for an extra hour of playtime before bed. Jade, watching this, once remarked, "Looks like another cunning one is growing up."

Floyd is the uncle who's always fun (and a bit dangerous). He was the first to teach the girl to joke and be a little mischievous. Jade, in turn, taught her patience and manipulation—Azul doesn't like it, but he understands that his daughter's skills can be useful.

Every time the little girl says this, Azul has a bad feeling. It usually means she's found some loophole in the rules, just like he did as a child.

Azul wants his daughter to grow up confident and not repeat his mistakes. He does everything to make her accept her nature and be strong. However, he fears that one day she'll face the same cruelty he did as a child. Therefore, he always reminds her:

"You're special not because you have octopus tentacles or human legs. You're special because you're you."

Jade Leech

From early childhood, Jade teaches his daughter not only etiquette and manners but also the art of subtle manipulation. He tells her how to choose her words, when to smile, and when to remain silent. At the same time, he never forces her to follow his methods—he simply explains how to manage a situation more conveniently, should the need arise.

He's not a strict father, but if someone dares to offend his daughter, he'll act as he always does—calmly, subtly, but inevitably. The offender might not even realize they're being hunted until their life gradually turns into chaos.

From a young age, Jade takes his daughter on hikes through forests and mountains, telling her about rare plants and creatures. He loves to watch her discover the world with delight. However, if someone tries to instill fear of nature in her, he'll only smirk and say, "It's not predatory beasts you should fear, but those who hide behind kind smiles."

Jade always admires his daughter's uniqueness, her ability to change form in water. He doesn't consider it a flaw; on the contrary, he's proud of it and teaches her to be the same. He might ask with a light mockery, "Have you decided where you prefer to live—on land or in water?" However, he never pressures her choice.

When she first transforms into a moray eel, Jade looks at her with a sparkle in his eyes, slowly claps his hands, and says with a gentle smile, "Ah, how lovely. You're simply charming. Want to learn how to hunt underwater?" Then he teaches her to swim, feel the currents, and use her predator instincts.

He explains to his daughter that humans and sea creatures live by different rules. In water, you can follow instincts, but on land, words and subtle maneuvers are important. "It's all about balance, my dear. Isn't it interesting to know when to smile and when to show your teeth?"

His brother, of course, is very fond of his niece and often takes her on chaotic adventures. Jade doesn't forbid it but comments with a light smile, "Just don't let Floyd drag you into some adventure that'll be hard to get out of."

When his daughter first tries to pull off some cunning game or manipulation, Jade, of course, notices. However, instead of scolding her, he nods approvingly and says, "Not bad. But try to make it a bit more subtle next time."

Floyd Leech

Floyd laughed when he found out he was having twins. "Haha, what a coincidence! Or maybe it's fate?~" he joked. But when the children were born, he wasn't laughing anymore—he was completely thrilled. Two little creatures, just like him and Jade once were... only now they were his own children.

Floyd eagerly awaited the children's first contact with water. He knew they had inherited not only his appearance but also his nature. And when it finally happened—their skin covered in patterns, and their legs replaced by flexible moray eel tails—he couldn't help but laugh with joy: "Waaah, there you go! Now you're real little moray eels!~" He proudly swims with them, teaches them to dive and move in water like predators, telling them it's their family's "natural state."

Like Floyd, the children have a capricious nature. One moment they're laughing and hugging, and the next, they're sulking and refusing to talk to anyone. And they both quickly lose interest in things...

Floyd just shrugs:

"Well, that's normal! They're mine!~"

However, even if Jade admits that the children are too headstrong, Floyd only replies:

"Come on, let them enjoy life!~"

As with everyone else, Floyd doesn't use ordinary names for them. For example, he might call them "Little Eel" and "Gill Bubble." If the children try to protest, he just laughs and says they should be grateful they weren't named something like "Tiny Octopus."

Despite his playful and capricious nature, Floyd is a caring father. If the children are unwell, he instantly switches and becomes attentive. If someone offends them—no matter who, child or adult—he'll deal with that person.

"Huh? He upset you? Well, I'll have a word with him...~" he says, his smile turning frighteningly dark.

Although he loves his children, he sometimes acts like he's not their father but an older brother. He might support their pranks, take them fishing, come up with new tricks. If his wife looks at him disapprovingly, he just puts on an innocent face and says, "Well, they need to have fun!~"

When the children are sad or scared, Floyd doesn't comfort them with words—he just grabs them and squeezes them in a tight hug (of course, he controls the strength of the hug). His warmth and closeness quickly restore their good mood.

"Hey, don't mope, my little eel!~"

Kalim Ali-Asim

Kalim is the parent who's always ready to play, come up with adventures, and throw noisy parties for his children. He happily organizes home picnics, jumps on pillows with the kids, pretending to be dangerous sandstorms, and even lets them ride on his back like a camel.

His children never lack anything. Kalim strives to surround them with care and attention, buying them the best toys, sweets, and gifts, just to see them happy. However, sometimes his generosity goes too far, and Jamil (who's still in his life) has to remind him that parenting isn't just spoiling.

Kalim is proud of his sons, even if they're completely different. One might be cheerful and easygoing, while the other is more serious and responsible, but he praises them both equally. He sincerely rejoices in their successes, and even if one of them fails, he supports them with phrases like, "Don't worry, you'll definitely manage! Just try again!"

Kalim simply adores his youngest daughter and always carries her in his arms. She can ask for anything—and he'll fulfill her wish immediately. Sometimes her older brothers even get jealous, but Kalim sincerely loves them all equally. The daughter quickly realizes that Dad is soft and learns to use it to her advantage.

He doesn't like to scold children and, if they do something wrong, he's more likely to explain the situation gently than to punish them strictly. Perhaps because of this, his children sometimes get out of control, but at such moments someone (like their mom or Jamil) has to intervene to restore discipline.

Before bedtime, he tells the children stories about distant lands and magical creatures, sometimes adding elements from his own adventures. He also sings them lullabies, but gets so carried away that the song turns into a real concert with dancing.

If someone offends his child, Kalim is the first to rush to their defense, even if he doesn't fully understand what's happening. He might innocently approach the offender and say, "Hey, let's just be friends, okay?"—but if that doesn't work, he'll do everything to ensure his child doesn't suffer again.

Despite his naivety and clumsiness, Kalim is the kind of father who teaches children to see the good in the world, not to be afraid to dream, and to always remain kind. He wants his children to grow up happy and free, not intimidated or limited by strict rules.

Jamil Viper

Jamil treats his daughter as the most precious treasure in his life. He is ready to turn into dust anyone who dares to offend her, but at the same time he tries not to suppress her freedom. However, if someone even thinks of upsetting her - this person will instantly disappear from his social circle.

He is not the kind of father who will yell or punish with words. He does not even need to do this - one cold look is enough for the child to understand that he has gone too far. However, he is never really angry with his daughter, even if she has done something wrong. He sighs, explains the mistakes and helps to correct them, but inside he is already planning how to prevent chaos next time.

Jamil teaches her everything he knows from an early age. He teaches her discipline, strategy, dancing and even cooking, but he never pressures - if she does not like something, he simply suggests trying something else. However, one thing is a must - self-defense. No one should threaten his daughter, so he makes sure that she can stand up for herself.

Jamil is a master at cooking, and of course his daughter gets the most delicious and exquisite dishes. Even if she accidentally spills spices or spills something on the table, he doesn’t get angry - he just quietly cleans up the mess and continues to teach her how to mix flavors correctly.

If his daughter comes to him with an offended face and says: “Abi, he offended me!”, Jamil will not start a showdown, but this person will disappear from her circle. Before she even has time to understand what happened, the problem is already solved.

Despite all his seriousness, Jamil cannot refuse his daughter. She is the only person in front of whom he loses his restraint. If she asks for five more minutes before bed? Good. If she wants him to read her fairy tales until she falls asleep? Of course. If she wants to sit on his shoulders while he works? Why not.

Jamil never says it out loud, but he is more proud of his daughter than anyone else in the world. Even if she just says something smart or takes a step forward in her studies, he smiles to himself, knowing that she will definitely achieve everything she wants. He will not answer right away. Maybe he will say something neutral to avoid unnecessary conversations. But when he is alone, he always knows the answer. His beloved daughter.

Silver Vanrouge

Despite his tendency to fall asleep at unexpected moments, Silver sincerely tries to be a good father. He listens to his daughter with amazing patience, even if he himself is already on the verge of sleep. Even if he falls asleep next to his daughter, the slightest strange sound or her restlessness instantly wakes him up, and he is immediately on guard.

Even when she was a baby, he often rocked her in his arms. Even as she grows older, he continues to do this, although not as often. He often takes on the task of lulling the baby to sleep, but, as a rule, falls asleep faster himself. Sometimes the daughter just lies next to her and watches her dad already sweetly dozing, and her mother laughs at it.

Silver rarely raises his voice and always prefers to explain everything softly, but if his daughter is in danger, his calmness will instantly be replaced by cold-blooded determination.

He wants his daughter to be safe, so from childhood he teaches her the basics of fencing and defense. Of course, in a soft form - with a toy sword or a wooden stick.

Lilia simply adores her granddaughter, and she reciprocates his feelings. They arrange fun games for her together, and then Silver only sighs tiredly, watching how his father has again taught the baby some “useful” prank.

If his daughter creates a little chaos in the house, he does not scold, but simply carefully analyzes the consequences and, if necessary, gently explains why it is not worth doing.

He is sure that his daughter has inherited her mother's beauty and character, but Lilia always corrects him with a smirk: "She is so much like you!" Despite all his gentleness, if someone offends his daughter, Silver becomes incredibly serious. That same warrior's look flashes in his eyes, and no one doubts that he will do anything to protect her.

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twst #riddle rosehearts x reader #ruggie x reader #azul x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd x reader #kalim x reader #jamil viper x reader #silver vanrouge x reader

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the-library-alcove · 3 months ago

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I'm enjoying the latest antitheist to stick their nose in and say that, in their ideal world, Judaism would be gone, and then being upset when the Jews take offense at this, because "Judaism is just a religion". Seriously, you just can't buy quality entertainment like this.

More seriously, though, I find it fascinating how these types are almost always English-speaking Christian-background Westerners. When you actually game out what they're saying, it's actually quite interesting, because they're dealing with a fundamental conflict of their desires and their ideology.

What I mean by that is that they want cultural imperialism (everyone across the world speaking, acting, behaving, and thinking like them specifically) but they're coming from an ideological space that frowns on or demonizes overt cultural imperialism of that sort (at least from their own culture).

So you have this "I want to impose my culture and my beliefs on others, but I can't say that I want that, so I'll just imply that it'll happen as a natural result as time passes" passive-aggressive stance as a result. And whenever that stance gets called out for the "So you want us gone, but you're not willing to own up to that?" bullshit that it is, they get so defensive and intellectually dishonest--because their entire outlook is based on intellectual dishonesty, of wanting one thing but saying another.

The really interesting thing is that you only really find these types in English-speaking Western Leftism or Leftism-adjacent spaces. My theory on why is that most other cultures with imperialist spreading tendencies own up to that fact and aren't ashamed of it, or at least acknowledge it: Russification, the Great Commission, Tabligh, Fracisation, Arabization, Turkization, Americanization... even going back to the ancients, we had Hellenization as a deliberate effort to make other societies more Greek-like.

But in this specific brand of Western Atheists... they want their personal culture to be the template for the secular monotheism that they desire. HOWEVER, as colonialism and imperialism is seen as wrong and shameful by their ideology, they need to square that circle, and the way they do that is to make it a passive-voice cultural genocide. Oh, those other cultures and religions will just vanish of their own accord as time passes. So sad, but good for the human race... and for me, because certainly my culture will endure!

In essence, they want all of the benefits that come with cultural assimilation and imperialism... but not any of the social downsides that come with advocating for it, and you're only going to find that combo in places where:

1) their language is already the international dominant tongue, so they're catered to in cultural hegemony already.

2) their political ideology actively rejects "imperialism" from their own culture, to the point of self-disownment of their supposed principles

3) their culture is a combination of superficial multi-culturalism alongside deeper demands of conformity

Is it any wonder that as soon as someone points out that their antitheist ideology is discount cultural imperialism they get defensive and angry? Because, on some level, they know it, and they can't defend it with their supposed principles, just with emotional appeals. So they deny and lash out with immature petulance, like the "well, I'll stop defending you because you're mean, so there!"

Buddy, if your defense was predicated on you wanting us gone anyway, that defense was worthless.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #jumblr #judaism

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yutassweetangel · 22 days ago

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𐙚 my hero

ii. saturdays

{spiderman!scaramouche x reader}

YOUR POV

As you woke up that morning, you were immediately sick in the gut. Lumine likes scaramouche. Sweet baby lumine, likes disgusting wretched scaramouche.

The thought alone made your stomach turn and twisting in knots. And she, expected you, you, to be kind to him of all people. At least show some decency, she said which made your stomach churn the more.

You would have to commit the impossible for your best friend.

Trudging into the school building, you feel something hard bumps into you. To no surprise at all, it's Scaramouche.

Right, decent.

"Hey, Scara." You greeted, bitting the inside of your teeth—and tasting iron in the process— in an effort to not curse at him.

He, immediately, raised a brow, not sure to believe what he just heard. You guys were rivals, you never exchanged greeting. Only curses, middle fingers and insults.

He looked around, as though trying to find some kind of hidden camera in the school hall, nope. none. You were actually greeting Scaramouche Kunikuzushi Raiden.

"This is a joke, right?" He asked, like he was still trying to see the joke behind all this. "Is this some sort of prank?" you shook your head, and he snickered.

"if your trying to be nice to me for, some reason beyond me, like, trying to get me to like you? then forget it." He said, folding his hands with mockery written all over his face.

Ah, now that's why you hated him,

He was an irritating, egotistical, narcissistic jerk.

"Well, it's not for that reason. Believe me I wouldn't want you liking me for any reason whatsoever." you pointed out, matter—of—factly

"Whatever makes you kill yourself." how about you kill yourself, huh? You said, silently. "I don't have your time so I'll go to class now, if you don't mind." not that you needed his permission. You huffed walking away from Scara when he opened his stupid big mouth again to saying another meaningless thing.

"You know no one's in the school except for us, right?" he said, crossing his hands and doing that sassy stance he always did to make you feel dumber.

You retorted, "and so?" You turned on your heel, eyeing him up and down. "What are you insisting?" You questioned him. He followed your actions—eyeing you up and down—before responding. "There is no class as of now, you fatuous idiot."

this.... ugh.

He scoffed seeing the annoyed and angry look on your face."I guess your smarter in those pictures the principle loves hanging around." He insulted you before walking off his back turned to you and you had resist the urge to hit the back of his head with a rock.

If there were a day where you could kill anyone on earth, Scara would be the first on your fucking list.

Decent my ass.

I mean, what did lumine see in this guy?

Well, you friends were of no help.

You peaked over the book that covered your face to see Scaramouche, either listening to music, or chatting with friends on his phone.

It felt so.... awkward. You would wished for someone, anyone to break the silence. And unlucky for you, he did.

"will you stop ogling your eyes over me? It's annoying." He leered and you kinda wished he'd just continued to shut up.

"if you don't like me looking at you then why'd you follow me here?" You retorted, gritting your teeth in between your words. You also slam the book on the table to cause some sort of reaction from him—but he remained unfazed, not even jolting or flinching.

"Excuse you? You followed me, remember? Your afraid of the dark." He said, narrowing his eyes at you in disgust.

And that was true, you were afraid of the dark and it was just becoming morning, and it was still very dark, and you'd rather be with the worst person in the world than being alone, but how did he remember?

You told him you were afraid of the dark years ago when you were on a camp trip in tenth grade and you, Venti, Lumi, Childe and him got lost and you just started venting about the dark because, one, it was dark, two you thought you'd die that day.

It wasn't really a secret, but you didn't expect him to remember, and if he did you expected him to be taunting you.

You pushed these thoughts away though.

"I'm not. I just... prefer to be around people." You said, denying the further—very true—claim. He scoffed, tauntingly. "Then go to a cemetery, there are plenty of people there."

you'd know, huh? You mused, silently.

"Didn't know little miss. perfect could bite." He said and you then realised you said that out loud. Curse his good hearing.

"Whatever, how did remember that I was scared of the dark anyways?" You asked, you curiosity getting the best of you. You just wanted to know, you wanted to stretch the rubber, the rubber that your relationship with him stretched.

In your head, you had a rubber for everyone—friends, family, enemies—to stretch your comfort zone. For every time you ask something weird, or out of place, or uncomfortable.

And right now, this one might just snap.

He looked at you, both amused and unreadable, only Scara could do both at the same time. "What would I gain if I told you?" Of course he wouldn't tell you. He was so.. stubborn. "Come one. Don't be so childish, tell me."

"Childish?" He looked almost offended. Guess you hurt his ego with that one, heh. "Yes, childish." You took a deep breath. This is exactly what you were talking about. Childish. Then, forcefully,continued, "you should really grow up a bit, Scara. We're in our senior year after all."

Then, it hit you like a fucking train. It was your senior year. The final year. And maybe, the last time you'd see scara. I mean you were happy! You really were. But another part of you, was sad.

Again, you shoved all that bullshit away. "Grow up? I think I have clearly grown a lot better compared to you." You clenched your fist. "You've been, what? Five foot three since middle school?" Unclench. Take a deep breath. Don't talk mindlessly.

Nobody—excluding the librarian—was in this room. But the walls had ears, they said. If whatever you say to Scara spread out, before you graduated, your done. Deep friend to the crisp done.

"I could fit you in my luggage., you know?" The rubber might now have snapped, but your patience, you dignity, you sanity—is about to snap. "Look at you! So small, so petite, so frail, so—"

"if I'm so short—" you paused, huffing in anger and emphasising on the short—"then why don't you out some inches in me?" You smirked, as if you solved a difficult equation before everyone else in the class.

What you said wasn't your fault though. Venti, who you realised wasnt a very good influence, used to say this to Zhongli when he used to fancily say he was short. This comment would shut him up.

But then, you realised—Scara isn't Zhongli.

No no no nonononononononono. You didn't mean that. You didn't actually mean to say that. It was a slip of tongue! You kinda—really—hoped he'd ignore it, but telling from his shocked face to smirk, you knew he'd taunt you for this till you die.

"Please ignore tha—" unexpectedly, Scara interrupts you and says something to embarrass you more.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You. wanted. to. die. That was the last thing both of you said before you went back to both your businesses in the library—even in the awkward silence—before students started pouring in, tired and mumbling curses either at the universe, Adam and Eve for eating that goddamn apple, or the school.

You stood up, ready to get to class before you caught, from your peripheral vision, Scara sleeping peacefully, slumped over with his head resting on the surface of the table.

At first, you snickered. Thinking of the devious things you could write on his face with a Sharpie while he slept, but then another train hit you—this time a little harder than the first time—he was actually.... cute? When he didn't speak, of course.

However, you realised—WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING? Scara? Cute? Haha, kill yourself.

You quickly pulled a Sharpie out, and drew on his face, a little cat nose and whiskers before walking triumphantly to class, ignoring any of those... things you thought earlier. You'd rather walk dead than thing that vacuous imbecile cute. Ha, cute. Don't make me laugh.

"wait, wait, wait. Slow down." Your friend, Hu Tao stopped you mid-ranting. "Your telling me, he remembered you were afraid of your the dark.. and you didn't hop on his dick right then and there?" She said and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"Not helping, one and Lumine likes him, two." You said before continuing on to the part where you... told him to put some inches in you.

Despite this being the most horrifying thing to ever happen to you, this caused Hu Tao to let out a fit of laughter. "Wait, what? LMAO did you actually say that?" She exclaimed, causing people to side–eye you from afar.

"Shhh, be quiet, and yes unfortunately, I did." You drag your hand into your hair in frustration and embarrassment. "Damn, why didn't he fuck you then?"

"Bro!" Why did you have such senseless friends? This is why you talk to lumi about this stuff, but you couldn't tell your best friend that you told her crush—your enemy—to fuck some inches into you.

"Ok, ok," she raised her hands up as if in surrender. "Uh, just, let it pass?" You groan. Knowing Scara, the last thing he'd do is let you forget you ever said that. He'd the type of person to post a tweet saying: remember that time you said that thing in the library and tag you with a smiling face with three hearts. That's just Scara for you.

You bury your face in your hands and groan at the thought. You slide your hands down your face, wiping your palms on your face and sighed in frustration. "I'm going to go to class." You say, already getting up.

"Why?" She asked, looking like a five year old asking you how sex worked. "Because I don't want to speak to you anymore." Is what you would've said if you weren't such a nice friend. "I need to help the teacher with something earlier." Hu Tao nodded, opening a box of cookies and cream pocky she had been saving since.

You walk towards class, your friends still filled with thoughts of the incident in the library—what if he tells Lumine? Or worst, if he tells the whole school. What if he actually takes it seriously? gasp what if he tells Childe.

All these filled your mind before the scent of something burning crossed last your nostrils, squeezing your lungs of the stench. Smoke. Was something burning?

You rushed quickly to where the scent was more prominent, making your way to the school garden filled with multiple non-toxic flowers like tulips and jasmine's—the multicoloured tulips of blue, orange, pink, complimenting the plain white jasmines. It was... surreal to look at.

The garden was popular for confessions, or where couples hung out, or where wanna-be-influencers took sceneric photos of themselves. Or where you stayed when you wanted some peace and quiet. The birds chirping, the sky greeting you, the fairy lights on the fences—which only glowed at night—making it looks aesthetically pleasing.

And not to mention, the most important part of this whole garden, the big oak tree in the middle of the tulips and jasmines, surrounded by fairy lights covered fences. It was magical. If you were younger, you would've wanted to build a tree house on that tree and never leave.

Either way, you approach the tree, scrunching up your nose when you realise the scent is coming from behind the tree. And what was behind the tree didn't shock you all too much, but it did amaze you: Scara, that purple headed bastard, under the tree smoking a cigar in the morning.

You watched as he inhaled and exhaled the intoxicated air like it was a breathe of fresh air. You could never understand smokers. What you thought was burning was not the school, but rather Scara's lungs.

You watched immensely as he repeated his actions, watching as his lung probably cried for help and cried for him to stop before he dies, but he continues anyways, unaware of how much damage was going on to his body. And he was a biology major for that matter.

"Gonna continue watching me or are you gonna come over here?" said the gremlin. "What—im not watching! In my defense, I thought something was burning. I didn't know a biology student who knew what smoking does to his lungs was smoking up a blunt here. If I did, I wouldn't have even come here—" You explained, stopping when you realised you were talking too much, and two, he probably didn't even care.

So, you approached him, resting beside him on the tree, your hands behind your back and propping you off the tree. "Is that so." He finally said, eyeing you from beside you and suddenly making you self-conscious before continuing to smoke.

The air was filled with silence—and smoke—and you didn't even realise why you were here, sharing your morning with Scaramouche. Again.

It filled with much rage that your body and mind worked like two different people.

You decided to speak, since he didn't do much of that. "So, you still smoke?" You asked, as if it weren't obvious. You expected a, "no shit, Sherlock." or a, "and grass is green." Comment to come out of him. Maybe even "what do you think I'm doing?" Instead, you given a simple, "yeah.

Yeah. Maybe the cigar did something to him. You were used to his nonchalant attitude, but not towards you.

"Oh, is that so." You should really stop talking and go to class, but another question itched at the back of your brain, and you suddenly didn't want to leave until you had asked it. "Just say it." Scara said, as if knowing you wanted to say something.

"Oh...b—but it's kind of—" he cut you off, smirking, "personal? Just spill it. If I'm uncomfortable then I won't answer." Wow. You surely weren't expecting Scara of all people to be mature about this.

"Unless your asking me to fuck you again." There it is. The teasing Scara you were accustomed to. You take a deep, staggered breath before speaking, "do you.. still do drugs?" You immediately wanted to stop. You weren't close enough to be doing this. The rubber band was snapping slowly.

"No, I try not to." He said simply and you wanted to kill yourself. Maybe you should take Kokomi's advice. "Oh, well, that's cool." That was all you said before the two of you went back to silence.

Why were you even here? Weren't you going class or something? How did you get here?

Suddenly, Scara throws the cigar in the ground, crushing it under his designer shoes and tucking his hands into his even more designer jacket.

And all of a sudden you felt self-conscious, but kept affirming yourself that you didn't need designer to look cute—you thought in your baggy grey sweatshirt and jeans.

A smile creeps up on his face, "Race you too class?"

"What—?" Before you could even process the challenge, he's already sprinting to class, looking back at you to stick his tongue out before facing forward. You immediately followed his actions, sprinting forward, a few spaces behind him.

Looking at the nape of his neck and wishing you could stab into it and watch blood gush out it.

When you get to class, panting and bent down with your hands on your knees to catch your breath. You see Scara leaning on the wall beside the class door, arms folded and a triumph look on his face. He was sweaty, but not breathless. At least not as you were.

"I won, you lost." He declared before smirking his smirk of mockery and entering class while you stood there, still panting.

Twenty-fifth. That was the twenty-fifth time Scara best you at something. You always counted it in your head mentally how many times you best him—how many he beat you. It was stupid, dumb even. But it felt so good when you rang in your head a twenty or a score higher than that in your head every time you beat him.

Right now, you two were tied. You didn't want to count it as a win, but a win was a win. If you were better, faster, you would've won him despite being far behind.

You let a grunt that came out more like a whimper due to just running to class without even stretching. You cursed Scara's name.

To your delite, the class door opens again, and without looking up, you immediately start insulting the person in front of you, thinking it to be Scara. "You vacuous asshole! That was an unfair race! I call for a rematch."

You suddenly look up to find a longer pair of legs wearing blue, torn jeans, a plain button up shirt and a confused look on his face. Childe. His ginger hair bounces as he tilts his head slightly, face flushed and his veiny arm—which you would would choke you, in a non-kinky way of course—reach to the back of his head, scratching it.

"Ohmyfuckinggosh—" you cursed, standing straight now and a hand slapped over your mouth in both shock and for shutting yourself up. "Hey yn—"

"That wasn't meant for you." You cut him off, not meaning to. A pause of silence passes. "Huh?" He said, almost dumbfounded, as though he didn't hear you just curse out his purple-headed friend earlier.

"What I'm saying is—i mean— sorry?" You apologised, coming out like a question. You didn't know whether you should kill yourself or kill Scara for this mess. For one, you were sweating, patches of visible on your forehead and underarm. Second, you were caught not being... The brightest person in front of your crush.

"Oh, no. no, no, no." He repeated his no's, getting lower each time he did. You wished you could make his voice your new alarm in the morning.

"You don't have to do that. Your not insulting me, right?" He reassured, giving that that rivalled even summer. A smile that made flowers grow in your stomach and your heart to kick the heck out your ribcage. "Oh, yeah. Of course." You said, trying to sound calm and leaning on an imaginary armrest.

"Anyways," he continued, letting the awkwardness pass, "I just wanted to know if your still on Saturday. I heard your a pretty busy person—" "of course, I'll be there."

Pause. That sounded too eager. Like you were dying to see him on Saturday (Which you were.)

"I mean—yeah, yeah. I'll see if I'm still free on Saturday. And if I'm busy I'll inform you." You went on. "Great! Would love to see you there." Love. He said he'd love to see you there.

And suddenly your day was ten times better. He gave you that signature wink, which looked more like he was blinking than a wink—but it was still cute.

Saturday started to sound like a show which only aired once in while which you were dying to watch.

Class was casual. It was normal, until the end where you got a 87.90% on a test.

Hold the phone.

While other cheered at getting just a 60 percent and above, you debated with your teacher, asking him to have a reconsideration, give you a make-up test, at least approximate your score to 90 percent instead that outrageous and selfish 86.90.

Meanwhile, Scara made fun of your desperate from his seat, waving his 98 with his tongue stuck out. It's like the universe was fucking with you today.

"I can give you then 90 percent and that's it." Professor. Alhaitham, your philosophy teacher said, pushing his glasses the met the bridge of his nose. You gave him an exasperated thank's before leaving the classroom to find Scara there, leaning against the wall opposite the door.

Had he been standing there? That's embarrassing.

You snorted at the thought of him just standing here for the past five,ten, maybe twenty minutes, just waiting as people walked passed him, giving him weird looks.

He cleared his throat. "Anything funny?" You shake your head, rolling your head in the process. "Yeah, but I wouldn't tell you." He repeats your action, rolling his eyes too. "Whatever."

He pushes himself off the wall, and was now standing a few inches away from you. He wasn't that tall, but you still had to look up to see his unbearable and disgusting face. "Two points for me, zero for you. How does it feel to be a loser?" He said, egotistically, and you couldn't help but scoff. "I expect a award, you know, maybe a gift." You answered jokingly and it was his time to scoff. "Wouldn't you be a good girl and like to get a reward?"

This bitch. Why did he have to make everything kinky.

"I didn't—i didn't mean it like that." You sudden confidence wavered. Your face was now heated. "Aha!" He exclaimed, like he just discovered something that could change the world forever. "So, you're a prude."

"What—" you said in disbelief. "I am not! I'm just... Shocked." You defended yourself, hugging yourself and tugging at your sleeve.

"Prude." He repeated.

A frown, soon followed by a deep sigh escapes your lips, "not."

"Prude."

"Not."

"Then you have a praise kink."

"The fuck. No."

"Yes, you do."

"No."

"Yes—"

The both of you go back and forth for a while before you realise—what was the point of this. You sighed, pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. He was stubborn, you'd give him that. "Ugh. I don't have time for this." You groan, kind of admitting defeat. "So, you admit you have a praise kink and a prude?" /

"That's not what i—ugh, forget it. Reasoning with you is as round as circle." You bellowed, your patience wearing thin. "What's that meant to mean?" He asked, brow raised. You didn't know what it meant either. "I guess I'm saying is that... It's like going in circles." You explained as though you were explaining maths to a second grader.

He snorted, "that's dumb."

"Whatever." Was all you said before walking away.

You rolled in your bed, curled up with your dove covering your whole body, leaving your head pocking out, head and phone buried under it. I

In the dark, the other source of light provided was the blue ray of your phone as you let out a sigh. You don't know how many you've let out just today. Suddenly you get a text from Childe.

Right. Saturday. Saturday might just be your new favourite thing. Maybe name your child Saturday and explain to them why. "Well, mommy and daddy actually fell in love on a Saturday."

But you were getting ahead of yourself. Saturday hadn't even come yet. You just had to wait.

Soon enough, Saturday comes rolling around. When you wake up, you breathe in the fresh air which smelled like—a dead rat?

You sniffed the air some more, confirming what you just smelled. Yep, that's definitely a dead rat roaming around your room. You moved closer to find the rat under your sink plumbing system.

You scrunched up your nose, pinching it your hand and picking up the rat with a piece of paper you found nearby your coffee table. Looked like an old newspaper which you never read.

When that was done you trashed the rat with the rest of your disgusting trash—old paper, black nylon probably filled with a dried, smelly period blood stained pad, mushy, wet rice, rotten apple and other trash considered things.

At 4:31 am (cause you woke up early), you brushed your teeth thoroughly, using that new mint toothpaste that your grandma bought you, took a bath using a body scrub you bought on sale, washed your hair, applying a leave-in conditioner to make it smell nice.

Afterwards, you do your skin care which included a cheap variety of products also bought on sale—a cleanser, a moisturizer you stole from your older sister and sunscreen so you don't, you know, burn.

Then you applied light, clean makeup, apply a fruity perfume dressed in a strawberry print pattern on a white background with a red long sleeved cardigan on top. You paired this with a thin gold necklace and earrings.

By 5:08 you were out with a white messenger bag filled with a laptop, notes and a few necessities—mini makeup bag, lip gloss, perfume, mirror, water etc.

Once you were outside, you regretted your choice of clothing. It was cold once you entered campus grounds—since childe was a boarder.

The cold wind of autumn caresses your skin and you shiver. Suddenly, someone bumps into you and a tired "oh, sorry." Comes from beside you. Followed by the sound of your phone collapsing to the ground.

You reach down to pick it up, reassuring the person when they had already bent down to pick it up for you. You reach up to collect your phone and say thank you when you realise who it was—Scaramouche.

Yep you guessed it.

You immediately change and narrow your eyes. "What are you doing here?" You asked, snatching your phone from him. "Not even a thank you?" He ignored your question, sighing and looking away for a bit before looking back at you.

He wore a black basketball jacket with the letter "S" imprinted onto it paired with a black button up shirt, one button undone. It was a simple choice of fashion, but it still looked expensive and model perfect.

Everything he wore looked expensive and model perfect.

Suddenly, his eyes roamed around your body. And you felt self-conscious, tugging your short red cardigan to cover your—whatever you could cover up.

He looked back at your face, and you swore something flicked in his eyes, or you saw his ears turn a slight shade of pink. Maybe it was the cold or your head playing games with you.

"Well?" You asked again. "Why are you here?" You interrogated him, folding your arms. "Huh? Oh, I live here." He responded hurriedly, pointing at the boarder building which you look over at.

"Oh." Was all you let out, realising you were stupid for questioning him like he was a stalker. "Well—why aren't you in your room?" You continued to question him, like he didn't have the right to walk around where he lived. "Uhh, I was taking a walk."

"Why?"

"Hey, why are you questioning me? Why are you here?" You stayed silent for a moment, almost forgetting your purpose for being here. "I'm here for Childe." You simply said.

"Oh, your date thingy. Well, congratufuckunglations." You knew he didn't meant it. So you huffed when you walked past him before he grabs your wrist, pulling you back in front of him causing you to let out an "ack!"

"What gives?" You asked, the warmth of his hand on your wrist still burning his wrist and out of nowhere, you stopped being cold. "You can't enter in there." He warned.

The fuck? Was this fucker out of his mind?

"Why can't it?" You asked. "Because, it's a male boarding house." He stated, and suddenly you felt stupid. "Oh." Was all escaped your lips. And you almost winced when you felt the warmth of his hand leave your wrist.

"So, what? You expect me to stand and wait for him to come?" You asked, your patience wearing thin. "Pretty much." He answered. You scoffed. "This is ridiculous!" You exclaimed, making a little hmph sound.

He rolls his eyes before the next line fall from his lips to your ears, "I can escort you to our room, your royal highness." He said, the nick–name said with every ounce of sarcasm, causing a rush of agitation to rush to your neck.

"Fine. Whatever." You said simply. You walk down the campus at it was there—when you weren't rushing to class or the library to finish a last minute assignment—that you take in, fully, the beauty of the campus.

Like, as of now, the two of you stood at the car park where whites lined were formed to assist the drivers to park properly, patches of grass, covered with cobble were rowed Infront of each parked car and empty slot for a potential parked car with the smell of mother nature—dog shit, flowers and grass—mixed into the air.

Soon the air shifted as you enter the boarding house. It becomes... More tense to say the least. Or maybe it was you. You shifted uncomfortably in the male boarding house. Chandeliers that hung above you which glowed gold and coated the white walls a similar colour, the smell of... Male up in the air—which consist of socks, dirty clothes and male perfumes.

It wasn't a home you'd like to live in, but a home Childe lived in. Even the bastard beside you lived here.

As you walk up the luxurious boarding house, Scara comes to a halt and you bump into his back. You quickly stand straight, quirking a brow at him when he turns to face you.

"Here it is. Me and Childe's room. Rule number one, don't peep into my stuff while I'm gone. Rule two, don't steal snacks that specifically read "scara's food don't eat or I'll cut your fingers off. Rule three—" you cut him off before he could continue his rambling. "What makes you think we're going to stay here?" You asked, anger laced in your voice.

Arrogant asshole.

"I'm aware of that," He says, rolling his eyes. "I just don't want you peeking at my stuff, you know since you asked me to fuck you—" Scara is cut off by the sound of the door clicking and flying open.

There, you saw your dream man at your door; messy ginger curls, black hoodie, dark grey puffer jacket, dark grey baggy jeans.

You swapped your hand over Scara's mouth before he says something to fuck you up as usual. "Hey yn," it was like lights flooded behind him as angels sung. "Ready to go?"

prev || next

╰┈➤ my hero materialist

synops𝐢s → scara was many things to you—the cause of all your headaches, the stone in your shoe that could never seem to get out, the reason you go to sleep crying—but definitely, very obviously, you hated him. maybe 'hate' is strong, it's just some rivalry. and spiderman was the opposite of that. he was muscular, his suit tugging at his biceps and quadriceps you couldn't help notice. He was heroic, friendly—like you said, the opposite of scaramouche. But soon,the truth is revealed and you find out the secret identity of your superhero was actually your worst enemy?

૧ᵘᵉᵘⁱⁿᵍ : ˢᵒ ʰⁱᵍʰ, ᵈᵒʲᵃ ᶜᵃᵗ

notes - sorry this took so long AUGH I was hyper fixating about Caleb and my body was not resonating with my mind

Caleb is just so AUGH. making a fic about him the

This is so short and so bad help. Next chapter is better trust 😭

Had to watch a venom movie for prt 3 to be good can somebody say power 😔

also childe whas curls and no one can prove me wrong 👹😡

Also the reason the screenshots are so big is cus I'm using a tablet. No, I am not an ipad kid. Yes, I don't have a phone. LET ME BE. 👹

Also, scara bio major? Anyone??? Tell me this isn't canon.

And anyone digging the rubber band thingy? Like relationships so thin it can cut like a rubber band if not taken care of 😭 idk how to explain it but you get it.

a/𝐧 → thank you all SM for the love and support couldn't have done it without yall mwah mwah THANK U FOR 90 FOLLOWERS TH IM JUST A GIRL HELPPPPPP this one is SM better than the last draft I think the world was basically saying that it was bad. Sorry the smau is so short, I'll try to do more next chapter

p.s - next chapter has HEAVY angst and my indecisive ass decided to make it dual pov instead of one for each night or chapters or whatever 😭

taglist (open):

@kyouzki, @rumitome @wandereryumee, @procacao, @w2atissense, @erebhs, @fuhrasloves, @lyzisbitchingagain, @emvss, @anaxugoras, @yu-yumi, @mywillt0live, @key2yourheart, @franaby, @lxkeeeee, @hanakokunzz, @marivaudages

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justinspoliticalcorner · 7 months ago

Text

Keith Edwards at No Lies Detected:

Fascism doesn’t come for every generation, but it has come for ours. This is not a fight on the beaches of Normandy, but in our own country. This article begins a series on what opposing Donald Trump and his movement can look like. I hope you will join me as these progress.

[...]

Do not leave. Faced with the might of the United States government aligned against you, you might consider resigning preemptively to avoid the humiliation of inevitable termination. This is counterproductive for at least two reasons: If you leave, you save Trump Administration officials the time and effort of identifying you, which otherwise could have taken months or years. Second, your principled stand would likely only result in your replacement by an unprincipled Trump loyalist. By staying on, you may find yourself helping to implement policies you find hateful, but by refusing to leave, you can ensure that you have some influence on those policies, because then you can...

Delay. Delay. Delay. Waiting out the enemy until he moves on, gives up, or forgets is a time-honored strategy not just among civil servants but also history’s best generals. That email about a proposed rule change to healthcare protections? Bury it in everyone’s inbox by sending it late. A meeting on reviewing the U.S. government’s foreign aid commitments to a region you oversee? Oops, you’ll be out that day! That agency conference your political-appointee boss requested you arrange? Next month didn’t fit everyone’s schedule, so you had to push it to after the new year! Slow-walking is the classic tool in any bureaucrat’s toolbox, and in the next Trump Administration, you can use it in defense of the Constitution.

Be intentionally incompetent. As a career employee, you likely have always had the advantage of knowing your workplace better than your politically appointed overlords. This is perhaps your most potent weapon against Trump. Draft rules unlikely to survive judicial review. Favor lengthy rulemaking or review processes over expedited ones. Complete tasks sequentially rather than in parallel to draw out timelines. Add complexity, stakeholders, and process wherever possible. In short, exploit the knowledge gap you hold over your bosses to diminish, defuse, and defeat their plans.

Leak. Federal employees have the right to report what they believe to be illegal or abusive of authority to their agency’s inspector general (IG) without fear of retaliation. Trump however has singled out IGs for replacement after one played a pivotal role in his first impeachment, so the availability of this option may depend on how politically prominent your agency is. Fortunately, you can anonymously tip prominent news outlets like the New York Times and Washington Post, which boast extensive investigative units and employ rigorous safeguards to protect sources’ identities. You can also seek out sympathetic elected officials, such as Democratic members of the House Oversight Committee, whose main function is investigation of the federal government. (If you choose disclosure, be sure that the information is not classified, the unauthorized disclosure of which carries stiff federal penalties.)

Disregard and refuse. When you have exhausted all other options, you may want selectively to resort to riskier behaviors. These include going behind political appointees’ backs to subvert their activities, say by picking up the phone and countermanding their directions. In extreme cases, you may have outright to refuse direct orders to the appointee’s face. Though such actions seem like a fasttrack to termination, you may still be protected by the fact that overwhelmed political appointees might hesitate to go through the onerous process of finding a politically reliable replacement. Remember, the longer you stay in, the harder you make it for Trump to do what he wants. Know your rights. If the worst happens and your agency moves to terminate you, you can still fight back. There are multiple avenues an employee designated for dismissal can pursue to delay, reduce, or reverse agency penalties against them.1 The beauty of these options is that they can take months or even years to resolve and may be appealed to higher bodies, further extending the process. All the while, you are collecting a salary and occupying a full-time equivalent (FTE) position that your agency can’t fill until you finally depart. (This is not legal advice. If you find yourself in this situation, please seek a lawyer.)

Keith Edwards writes in his No Lies Detected Substack on how civil servants can show resistance to the tyrannical Trump 2.0 Regime from within.

#Donald Trump #Trump Administration II #Kash Patel #Robert F. Kennedy Jr.#Tulsi Gabbard #Elon Musk #Keith Edwards #Civil Service #Civil Servants

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acid-ixx · 8 months ago

Note

They aren't finished but I wanted to give you these! They're all WIPS so so far. Some are a bit older and you can tell what the newer ones are that I just made right now.

Thank you for posting a new chapter. It was an amazing read and I just loved it so much! Still trying to find those song references 😂

chapter spoilers and drafts (again &. again)

— masterlist ! ; chapter 4 ; ash's commisions

OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A BLESSING??? BANGER AFTER BANGER AFTER BANGER I SWEAR 💞

ash, you have always provided my little fanbase for my series so much food for thought, this is absolutely beautiful in every way. i literally don't care if they're wips or unfinished because either way you always make do with what i write, descriptive or not. i love your artstyle and how soft you draw the mc and how handsome conner is (i literally showed your art off to all my friends). you're so talented and i wish to reciprocate all the efforts you've done for this series 😭

i'm serious. from your portrayal of the mc, to them flying with conner, you never once disappoint anyone.

because of this, i'd like to leak some parts of my story from chapter five and beyond 💕! thank you so much for this, and i hope my yapping below suffices.

major spoilers below the cut!

the graduation photo! i have something planned with that, and i'd delve so much deeper (soon) with just how much a single photo can influence bruce's line of thought once he discovers that picture frame. love how happy mc is in the photo because, for me, it symbolizes them growing up (quite literally) and acknowledging a new path in life, alongside only finding alfred as their only father figure compared to bruce.

you consider yourself reserved, and prefer your life living within the confines of privacy and protection from media exposure. your mother always told you: better safe than sorry once; right after you've asked her about why you can't seem to find personal information about your father when she helped you search him up occasionally.

all the questions you ask her about the lack of your father's preferences — because you merely wanted to know more about him beyond the stories she told you! — she rebutted with a soft smile, a kiss on your head, and an explanation.

she'd warn you about the dangers of media exposure, about how your father and her prefer to keep their relationship a secret, and how too much cameras and paparazzi flashes can blind you.

she said that someone's perception of another person could be ruined once their deepest secrets are revealed. that's why your papa isn't seen beyond the doors of the manor he resides in; because people are attracted to mystery and allure.

hence why she'd restricted you from the usage of any devices within your household during your childhood, other than the excuse of having no money to afford it.

and you always abide by that principle of secrecy; especially right after alfred had saved you from... whatever happened years ago in elementary. from when that man... no, those men knew about your identity...

so, safe to say you were an introvert, at least when it comes to social media. the concept of the fear of missing out never once rattled your brain, no matter how anxious you are whenever you're with your friends; scared that you wouldn't fit in. but they never cared and accepted you with open arms, so it doesn't really matter, no?

you're safe now that you're at metropolis.

and like she always said, better safe than sorry! keep it within you and never out!

so why?

why is it just right after you've opened your twitter app— why is it that your face is plastered all across news accounts?

anyways, the second and third images are so romantic!!! and cute, and cured my depression i swear. i showed this to my one friend and she told me that conner's hand size compared to mc's is straight up hot, and i agree! i love the hand placement, and the way conner holds the mc so softly! yes, i too, would love to touch his man-tits beyond his impeccably tight shirt and play with his hands!

and the cute little panel with him squishing their face and desire their confirmation that, they do, in fact, think they're hot. he's a very insecure man after all, and his self-worth would revolve around your perception of him. he doesn't see you as god, but he doesnt see you as his everything. every opinion matters from you, and that's what makes the green flag part about him.

fun fact about him in the series! he loves to moisturize his hands with lots of skin care products because he read from an article once that some people prefer the feel of soft or moisturized hands. he definitely did not wait for the moment for you to touch him for the first time in forever since he first saw you! yeah, he's a bit more freaky than i let him out to be. the more you're exposed to him, the more you'll learn just how obsessed he is.

as for all the people asking if i'd write more about him: the answer is yes! he's a vital character, so don't worry because he'll appear in many scenes either way. for those concerned about why he didn't save the mc— well, chapter five will explain soon 🩷

and this art perfectly portrays it! it's seen from an outside perspective and they look very pretty, yet from what they see with their eyes is a different thing. the longer you stare at yourself, the more your image is distorted. i intentionally added the flower analogy because flowers are portrayed as pretty, no matter the size and shape. even as they wilt or sag, they still retain some color and a semblance of what was once a history of their prime.

then lastly! the mirror scene. it all returns to chapter three, chapter four was a sequel of their breakdown containing mirrors. reflections and the perception of one self is an important aspect of my series because it reminds me of myself, so them nit-picking each and every insecurity whilst staring at the mirror; that's a scene i wrote based off of a real life experience of mine. having both attractive parents, or those acknowledged as conventionally pretty, whilst being in an environment filled with as equally smart or attractive people, comparing yourself to them all the time, is a struggle.

the only way to make flowers 'ugly' is by destroying them, by stepping on them, ripping them apart, never once caring for them. i think that's very crucial because people do see anything destroyed or stripped away from its foundation a mess, or so. but there's always beauty in everything and i abide by that thought!

again, thank you so much ash for drawing this and bringing my story to life! you, alongside many other users who send in their fanarts, are always such an inspiration for me to write! you guys are the backbone of my series and i stand by my sentence!!! may you get plenty of commissions and plenty of money to support you <333

also, the FLOWER BOTTLE AND THE CAT PAW REFERENCE! i love how everyone accepts that we have a canon cat now based solely off of this. i think that's precious, and having a feline pet is a great little choice for my own plot (just to lessen the pain of the angst).

i hope you enjoyed this little mess rant!

(as for the songs, don't worry, the lyrics become more prevalent for chapter five! chapter four doesn't have any explicit lyrics contained in them, only implications.)

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prokopetz · 1 year ago

Text

The Victor Ninov situation is one of my favourite cases of scientific fraud because it's rare to see so straightforward an example of someone being brought low by their own hubris.

Like, okay, faking the synthesis of a previously unobserved element: it's one of the few varieties of scientific fraud that actually has a clear gameplan for getting away with it. The physical properties of unobserved elements are, in principle, predictable, and there are only so many ways to go about synthesising them. If you do your homework, it's not outside the realm of possibility that your claimed results will end up being at least mostly consistent with the results of subsequent legitimate efforts to synthesise that element, and any minor discrepancies will end up being dismissed as statistical anomalies and/or the product of sloppy experimental design. It's by no means an easy game to play, but it's a game you can conceivably win.

And Victor Ninov did it. He rolled the dice and he won – twice. His fabricated results for elements 110 and 112 were corroborated by later work, and nobody noticed that his actual data was a crock of shit. He got away with it as cleanly as he could have hoped. It was only the third time he tried it, with element 118, that he biffed it and claimed results which nobody could replicate, and this is the only reason his earlier frauds were discovered. If he'd quit while he was ahead, it's likely the first two incidents never would have come to light.

Like, they say the third time's the charm, and buddy here learned the hard way that sometimes, the opposite also holds true.

#science #physics #chemistry #scientific fraud #experimental fraud #victor ninov #swearing

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arciam · 3 months ago

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Underrated JayVik moments/lines (18/∞)

"I was supposed to die."

(I can NOT get over how absolutely livid he looks.)

I always did wonder what precisely Viktor meant by that.

Because although we are led to believe that the main reason for his ire is that Jayce broke his promise to destroy the HexCore, not only would this line be entirely unnecessary for that, but this is the line that sees the focus fully on Viktor's delivery and expression (whereas his comment on Jayce's broken promise is instead "shot" from behind, with the focus falling squarely on Jayce's reaction).

All this - and adding to it how inherently striking a statement it is to tell someone you were supposed to die in the first place - goes to put a much heavier emphasis on this line over the other one, really. But why?

I believe it is because (though their parting was likely already inevitable at this point due to additional factors such as the HexTech weapons) it is in fact a crucial part of what informs Viktor and Jayce's disconnect in this scene. As I see it, one of the various ways Jayce goes wrong here is in dwelling on the HexCore and interpreting Viktor's disapproval as solely targeting Jayce's failure to "cling to principle", when the scene direction already told us he was supposed to have paid closer attention to the line above instead.

So, since the show insists - let's unpack this, I guess.

To me, the key to understanding is the question I posed in the very beginning; the question of which of Viktor's two possible deaths this line is actually referring to - his prognosed death by disease or his de facto death in the explosion (neither of which Jayce was "supposed to" avert by using the HexCore). And after some consideration, I think the answer is this:

It makes precious little difference to Viktor - and a world of difference to Jayce.

Let's take a look at the situation from their respective points of view:

"Promise. Me."

When Viktor made Jayce promise to destroy the HexCore, it's not like he wanted to die (even his suicide attempt was more of a bid to escape his guilt and despair than a death wish), but he was coming to terms with the inevitability of it. He may not know that he has only hours left to live here, but at this point, what's the difference really?

And then, something extraordinary happens:

While we don't get to see it, it is heavily implied - both by the way Viktor saying "We have to make it right" is played over the image of Silco reading Jayce's request for parley, and of course, by how he and Jayce end up presenting it to the council together - that this negotiation for peace with Zaun is a joint endeavour.

After all of the lonely struggles Viktor fought over the course of acts 2 and 3, he spends his final day working united with Jayce the way they used to be, and his final moments seeing his people be granted independence through his and Jayce's own efforts.

With him dying - or at least being knocked unconscious - instantly in the explosion, this was the "roll credits" moment of Viktor's life, and he would never have to learn how everything went to shit.

If your death was inescapable anyway - what moment could have been more beautiful to leave the stage?

...Only to wake up in a body horror nightmare, standing less than human before the person you needed to trust more than anything having broken his promise to let you die on your own terms.

"I was supposed to die." - Why did you put me back here just because you could?

"Okay... Okay. I promise."

When Jayce promises to destroy the HexCore, he doesn't want to, but he would hate to deny Viktor's plea even more. And I do genuinely believe he would have gone through with it, too.

However, imagine how exactly Jayce is interpreting what is being asked of him in this moment. To a staunch optimist like Jayce, while a devastating blow, this is not the end of all hope. This is not a DNR.

In a way, it is merely a "back to square one" - the prospect of spending however many months remain working urgently to find a different solution, perhaps. But more importantly:

It is the solace of still having those months.

(If nothing else, then just to prepare emotionally. As someone who lost her father to illness young, believe you me when I say that having the time to prepare for what's coming is invaluable.)

Jayce is not imagining the death he is unwittingly promising Viktor here to be a sudden, frantic thing. Bloodied and dirt-streaked amidst rubble and smoke, his body cast aside and broken against stone like another piece of furniture that happened to stand in the way of the blast.

Jayce is not imagining ever looking at Viktor's corpse in a state that suggests he never mattered at all.

And Jayce - no matter what Viktor thinks his promise should entail - did most definitely not promise to be able to keep his head cool and his heart detached in a situation so far removed from anything he was ever expecting to handle when he gave it.

"I never asked for this!" - It was never fair of you to ask me for this!

Speaking of fair: that's another thing I want to touch on real quick.

Because even though Viktor acts like it should have been a matter of course for Jayce to accept Viktor's death, I have often wondered what Viktor wouldn't have been willing to do if their roles were reversed; if it was Jayce caught in the blast instead. (After all, Viktor knows he is a doomed man, but not Jayce. That's not how it's supposed to go.)

Now, I don't know that he would have gone full Singed, but luckily, we don't have to know. The show tells us exactly what Viktor would do to save Jayce's life, over and over again if need be.

Forget breaking a promise - how about breaking the very fabric of time and space itself? I know we often talk about Viktor as being the one "doomed by the narrative", and while that is true, make no mistake:

For whatever it's worth, Jayce was "supposed to die" too.

If not in the snow storm, then perhaps by his own hand, or through the Glorious Evolution. All of which Viktor simply... refuses to let happen, cosmic integrity be damned.

Long story short: In Jayce's defence, your Honour - Viktor is equally unwell about him.

Additional thoughts I didn't know how to include:

The idea for this entry is very closely tied to this video edit I made (although in a classic "chicken or egg" situation, I wouldn't be able to say which inspired which first), so if for some reason you'd like to see these themes put in a music video format - there you go.

For more on "Jayce is the one doomed by the narrative", please do read this meta by @zecroswe. While I don't agree on every detail, I absolutely see the vision and highly recommend giving it a read.

I've been wanting to expand on Jayce's POV on the necromancy thing ever since part 2 (where I said Viktor "knows that Jayce broke his promise to destroy the HexCore, but not of the wide-eyed desparation with which he scrambled for any way at all to save Viktor"). On that post, @luciansuir made a comment that I really want to include here because they kinda nailed some of my thoughts all the way back then:

Jayce fumbled so bad that he pulled excuses like “maybe the HexCore wasn’t so bad, maybe Heimer was wrong” Man how was that ever about the features of HexCore? Of course Viktor was convinced that you experimented with his death and treated him as a sample. Just tell the truth that you were so desperate and couldn’t bear the thought of losing him

Part 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/7½/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20

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#Underrated JayVik series #JayVik #JayVik meta #Arcane meta #Jayce Talis #Viktor Arcane #Jayce x Viktor #Arcane

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gatheringbones · 4 months ago

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[“Magnificence in clothes was considered a prerogative of the nobles, who should be identifiable by modes of dress forbidden to others. In the effort to establish this principle as law and prevent ��outrageous and excessive apparel of divers people against their estate and degree,” sumptuary laws were repeatedly announced, attempting to fix what kinds of clothes people might wear and how much they might spend.

Proclaimed by criers in the county courts and public assemblies, exact gradations of fabric, color, fur trimming, ornaments, and jewels were laid down for every rank and income level. Bourgeois might be forbidden to own a carriage or wear ermine, and peasants to wear any color but black or brown. Florence allowed doctors and magistrates to share the nobles’ privilege of ermine, but ruled out for merchants’ wives multicolored, striped, and checked gowns, brocades, figured velvets, and fabrics embroidered in silver and gold. In France territorial lords and their ladies with incomes of 6,000 livres or more could order four costumes a year; knights and bannerets with incomes of 3,000 could have three a year, one of which had to be for summer. Boys could have only one a year, and no demoiselle who was not the châtelaine of a castle or did not have an income of 2,000 livres could order more than one costume a year. In England, according to a law of 1363, a merchant worth £1,000 was entitled to the same dress and meals as a knight worth £500, and a merchant worth £200 the same as a knight worth £100. Double wealth in this case equaled nobility.

Efforts were also made to regulate how many dishes could be served at meals, what garments and linens could be accumulated for a trousseau, how many minstrels at a wedding party. In the passion for fixing and stabilizing identity, prostitutes were required to wear stripes, or garments turned inside out. Servants who imitated the long pointed shoes and hanging sleeves of their betters were severely disapproved, more because of their pretensions than because their sleeves slopped into the broth when they waited on table and their fur-trimmed hems trailed in the dirt. “There was so much pride amongst the common people,” wrote the English chronicler Henry Knighton, “in vying with one another in dress and ornaments that it was scarce possible to distinguish the poor from the rich, the servant from the master, or a priest from other men.”

Expenditure of money by commoners pained the nobles not least because they saw it benefiting the merchant class rather than themselves. The clergy considered that this expenditure drained money from the Church, and so condemned it on the moral ground that extravagance and luxury were in themselves wicked and harmful to virtue. In general, the sumptuary laws were favored as a means of curbing extravagance and promoting thrift, in the belief that if people could be made to save money, the King could obtain it when necessary. Economic thinking did not embrace the idea of spending spending as a stimulus to the economy.

The sumptuary laws proved unenforceable; the prerogative of adornment, like the drinking of liquor in a later century, defied prohibition. When Florentine city officials pursued women in the streets to examine their gowns, and entered houses to search their wardrobes, their findings were often spectacular: cloth of white marbled silk embroidered with vine leaves and red grapes, a coat with white and red roses on a pale yellow ground, another coat of “blue cloth with white lilies and white and red stars and compasses and white and yellow stripes across it, lined with red striped cloth,” which almost seemed as if the owner were trying to see how far defiance could go.”]

barbara w. tuchman, from a distant mirror: the calamitous 14th century, 1987

#barbara w. tuchman #currently reading #history stuff

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odileeclipse · 3 months ago

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In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 10

<<<Previous Next>>>

A/N Early updates are NEVER happening again/j because I just lost a GAJILLION aura uploading the WRONG CHAPTER. anyways my meeting got cancelled so I worked on this instead <3

“You’re absolutely brilliant, you’re good at what you do.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow, but there was a certain satisfaction in his expression, subtle yet undeniable. “If I have managed to make you understand, then the credit lies with your own efforts,” he said smoothly. You shook your head, your grin unwavering. “No way. You’re amazing if you were able to get me to understand this.” You tapped your notebook for emphasis. “I mean, come on, you saw how bad I was at this before.” His golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his tone remained even. “A willingness to learn will always yield results.” You let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe, but let’s be real if I was learning this on my own, it would’ve taken me three times as long. If not longer.” You leaned forward slightly, propping your elbows on the desk. “So yeah, you’re amazing, Sage of Truth. There’s no arguing that.” He tilted his head, and for a moment, you thought he might try. But instead, he merely regarded you with quiet amusement before finally speaking. “I see you are not above using flattery to smooth your path.” You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Me? Flattering you? I would never.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a slow blink. “Mm.” You laughed again, the sound spilling out before you could stop it. There was something so genuinely fulfilling about the moment. About the fact that, just this once, there were no corrections, no mistakes, only the confirmation that you had done something right. Still smiling, you glanced at his desk. “Do you have the notes for today’s lecture? I want to go over them while I have the chance.” His expression shifted, the faintest hint of approval lingering. “You wish to review so soon?” “Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve got you here, don’t I? No sense wasting the opportunity.” He regarded you for a moment longer before giving a small nod. “Very well.” With a practiced motion, he reached for a neatly stacked set of parchment and slid them toward you. As you took them, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth in your chest the quiet contentment of knowing that, at least for now, you had a place here.

Shadow Milk Cookie had barely set his quill down before you launched into your first question, your voice filled with determination. “Okay, so this part here” you tapped at a particularly dense paragraph in the notes, “I think I get what Professor Almond Custard was saying, but can you explain it in a different way? Because I feel like I’m missing something.” His golden eyes flickered toward the passage, and with a small hum, he leaned back slightly. “This concept hinges on the foundational principle we discussed last week. Recall the framework of magical equilibrium-” You furrowed your brows. “Right, but how does that connect to this specific theory?” And just like that, the questions kept coming. Each time he answered, you found yourself grasping onto something new, yet more uncertainties bubbled up in their place. You weren’t holding back today, determined to leave with no gaps in your understanding. Shadow Milk Cookie, ever patient, answered each one with unwavering precision. He never grew frustrated, never sighed in exasperation. If anything, there was a gleam in his eye that told you he welcomed this exchange his mind always at ease in the presence of questions, as if they were the lifejam of his existence. After what felt like an eternity, you finally sat back, exhaling deeply. “Okay. I think I got it now.” He regarded you with something almost amused. “A thorough interrogation.” You grinned. “You wouldn’t expect anything less, right?” “Certainly not.” With that settled, you reached into your bag and pulled out a neatly folded paper, sliding it across the desk toward him. “By the way… could you take a quick look at this?” Shadow Milk Cookie lifted the paper with a curious glance. “This is not yours.” You shook your head. “It’s Earl Grey Cookie’s. He, uh… kind of slipped it to me earlier and asked if you could look it over. I think he was too nervous to ask you himself.” His fingers brushed over the parchment as he skimmed the first few lines. “A written report.” “Yeah. He worked really hard on it, and I just… I want him to do well, you know?” You hesitated before adding, “You don’t have to, of course! I know you’re busy, and he didn’t want to impose or anything, but I figured…”

“I will review it.” You blinked. “Wait, really?” Shadow Milk Cookie simply nodded, already flipping through the contents. “If he seeks knowledge, he will receive it.” Something warm settled in your chest. You hadn’t doubted that he’d help, but hearing him say it so simply so naturally made you smile. “You’re the best,” you said before you could stop yourself. He glanced at you briefly, expression unreadable, before returning his focus to the report. “…I am merely doing what is expected of me.” You couldn’t help but think that wasn’t entirely true.

A loud grumble broke the silence. You froze. Shadow Milk Cookie, who had been reviewing Earl Grey Cookie’s report, paused mid-turn of the page. His golden eyes flicked toward you, brow slightly raised. “…You have not eaten.” Your face burned. “I…what? No, I mean, maybe, but it’s fine! I just got busy, that’s all.” His gaze lingered, clearly unconvinced. “You should not make a habit of this.” “It’s not a habit!” you protested, though your stomach loudly disagreed. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled through his nose something bordering on amusement before reaching into one of the many folds of his robes. With practiced ease, he withdrew a small, neatly wrapped package and set it down in front of you. You blinked at it. Then at him. “…You carry snacks?” He inclined his head slightly. “I account for long hours.” Carefully, you unwrapped the package, revealing a small honeyed pastry, still faintly warm. The scent alone made your stomach tighten with renewed hunger. You hesitated for a moment before glancing at him again. “Are you sure? You don’t have to” “I would not have offered if I were not sure.” Fair point. You took a small bite, the sweetness melting across your tongue. “…Thanks,” you murmured, chewing thoughtfully. Then, unable to suppress your curiosity, you asked, “Do you usually eat in your office, then? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the dining halls often.” “I dine when it suits my schedule,” he replied simply. You squinted at him. “That doesn’t really answer my question.” A faint, knowing glint flickered in his eyes. “I do not often require the communal setting.” “So you eat alone.” “On occasion.” You huffed, taking another bite of the pastry. “You’re really not one for straight answers, are you?” His lips quirked ever so slightly. “Would you prefer a false one?” You groaned. “That’s not ugh, never mind.” He returned to reviewing the report, but the subtle amusement in his expression remained. Despite yourself, you found that the warmth of the pastry and the unexpected thoughtfulness of the gesture settled something else inside you as well.

Between bites of the pastry, you glanced up at Shadow Milk Cookie, watching as his sharp gaze flicked over Earl Grey Cookie’s report. The room was quiet save for the occasional sound of pages turning, and for a moment, you almost forgot the embarrassment of your stomach’s earlier betrayal. You swallowed the last bite and wiped your hands on a napkin. “So? How is it?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. “I know Earl Grey is brilliant! I mean, one of the smartest cookies I know but did he do as well as I think he did?” Shadow Milk Cookie hummed thoughtfully, his golden eyes scanning the final lines before he set the report down with a quiet tap of his fingers. “His argument is well-reasoned, and his methodology is sound. There is confidence in his approach an admirable trait in any scholar.” You grinned. “I knew it. He always acts like he’s second-guessing himself, but I swear, half the time he’s the one helping me figure things out.” “There is a difference between questioning one’s understanding and lacking it,” Shadow Milk Cookie mused. “Doubt, when harnessed correctly, sharpens the mind.” You nodded, twirling your pen between your fingers. “Yeah… I guess that’s true. Earl Grey always says he’s ‘double-checking,’ but I think he just doesn’t give himself enough credit.”

Shadow Milk Cookie gave a slight nod, sliding the report back toward you. “He has a strong grasp of the material. If he continues refining his work, he will go far.” You couldn’t wait to tell Earl Grey about the praise though knowing him, he’d probably wave it off with a dismissive comment. Still, it felt good to hear it from someone like Shadow Milk Cookie. With a satisfied sigh, you leaned back in your chair, stretching a little. “Well, at least one of us is naturally gifted,” you joked. “Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Effort is no lesser virtue than talent. You would do well to remember that.” You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t scolding, nor was it mere encouragement it was a truth he simply expected you to accept. “…Right,” you murmured, looking down at your notes. Perhaps you were starting to believe it too.

You slid the copy of Earl Grey Cookie’s report back toward him, tilting your head slightly. “Would you mind writing down a few notes for him? Just, you know, some pointers?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flicked from you to the document, then back again. “He is more than capable of refining his own work.” “I know that,” you said quickly, shifting in your seat. “But he’d appreciate the feedback. And don’t worry it’s a copy of the original, so you can write on it.” There was a brief pause before Shadow Milk Cookie took up his pen, tapping it lightly against the parchment. “Very well.” You watched as he began writing in the margins, his script elegant and precise. His notes were efficient, no stroke wasted, each remark direct yet constructive. Even in something as simple as this, his intellect was undeniable. You propped your chin on your hand. “I think he’ll actually frame this,” you joked. “A critique from the Sage of Truth? That’s got to be a collector’s item.” Shadow Milk Cookie let out a quiet hum amusement, perhaps? As he finished the last remark. “Then I trust he will make use of it rather than merely admire it.” You chuckled. “Oh, he will. He takes his work seriously, even when he thinks he’s messing up.” Shadow Milk Cookie set the pen down and slid the report back to you. “Then let us hope my insights prove useful.” You took the paper with a grateful smile. “They will. Thanks for this.” He simply nodded, as if such a favor required no thanks at all. You leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms slightly before letting them drop to your lap. “Well, I don’t have any more questions about today’s material,” you said, glancing at the clock. “But it’s not time for dinner yet, so now I’m at an impasse.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with his usual composed expression, his hands folded neatly atop the desk. “An impasse?” You exhaled through your nose, drumming your fingers lightly against the edge of the desk. “Yeah. Too early for dinner, too late to start something new. So, what now?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You ask as if I am meant to provide an answer.” You gave a small, sheepish laugh. “I mean, you usually do.” For a brief moment, his golden eyes glimmered with something unreadable before he leaned back ever so slightly in his chair. “Then, logically, you must consider your available options. You could review past material, seek further clarification, or-” “Okay, okay,” you interrupted with a wave of your hand, grinning. “I meant more like… what do you do when you have time like this?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a moment, as if measuring the weight of your question. “I read. I analyze previous findings. I prepare for upcoming discussions. Time is seldom unoccupied.” You gave him a half-lidded stare. “Of course you do.” A small chuckle left him, soft and brief. “Would you have expected anything else?” You sighed dramatically, slumping slightly in your seat. “No, I guess not.” You glanced at the clock again before propping your chin on your hand. “I don’t know… Maybe I’ll just sit here for a bit until it’s time for dinner.” Shadow Milk Cookie made no move to dismiss you. Instead, he regarded you with quiet amusement. “Then sit,” he said simply. And so you did, letting the comfortable silence settle between you.

You tapped your fingers idly against the desk, staring at the neat stacks of parchment and books arranged in perfect order. The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made your thoughts a little louder in your own head. After a moment, you glanced up at him. “You know,” you started, voice slower, more thoughtful, “I think you probably know a lot more about me than I know about you.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow, but he didn’t interrupt. You shifted slightly in your seat, tapping your fingertips together. “I mean, you know how I think how I approach problems, where I struggle, what I need to work on… but I don’t really know much about you, outside of, well, this.” You gestured vaguely to his desk, to the books, to the very walls of his office that practically radiated his dedication to knowledge. He regarded you with that ever-composed expression, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. “And what is it you wish to know?” You hesitated, then leaned forward slightly. “What’s your favorite thing to do other than all of this?” You gestured to the papers in front of him. “Like, if you’re not researching or studying or being the Sage of Truth, what do you actually enjoy?” Shadow Milk Cookie looked mildly taken aback. It was subtle just the briefest pause, a slight tilt of his head as if considering the question more deeply than you’d expected. “…I am always learning,” he finally said, but his tone wasn’t dismissive. If anything, it was contemplative. “But if you are asking what I pursue outside of my academic obligations…” He trailed off for a moment before continuing, “I find fulfillment in music. Composition, particularly.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait you compose music?” A small nod. “It is an exercise in structure and interpretation. Patterns and expression in tandem.” You blinked. “Huh. I didn’t expect that.” “And what did you expect?” he asked, amusement threading into his tone. You squinted. “I don’t know. I just figured you spent all your free time unraveling the mysteries of the universe or something.” Shadow Milk Cookie let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Even the mind must find balance.” You grinned. “So, what kind of music do you compose?” He gave you a knowing look. “Perhaps another time.” You pouted slightly but relented. Still, the thought of him composing music lingered in your mind, shifting something in your perception of him something subtle, yet significant. You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the desk, eyes still alight with curiosity. “Okay, if you won’t tell me about the music itself… can you at least tell me what instrument you play?” Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled softly through his nose something close to a quiet laugh, though far more composed. He studied you for a moment, as if weighing whether he should indulge your curiosity. Then, after a brief pause, he answered, “The harpsichord.” Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait really?” He nodded in confirmation. Somehow, you had expected something more… modern. Or perhaps something more obscure, something you’d never even heard of. But the harpsichord? That was something you could picture something regal and refined, yet intricate in its mechanics.

“That’s…” You trailed off, searching for the right word. “That’s actually really fitting.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow. “Is it?” You nodded. “Yeah. It’s… deliberate. Everything about the way a harpsichord sounds is precise you don’t get the same kind of resonance as a piano, so every note matters. It’s like… the musical equivalent of how you think. Every argument, every conclusion you always get to it with exactness, no wasted movement.” There was a flicker of something in his expression subtle, unreadable, but present. He didn’t respond immediately, instead tapping a thoughtful finger against the desk. “…An interesting perspective,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before. You grinned, satisfied with your analysis. “So, do you perform for people?” His expression returned to something more neutral. “Rarely.” That wasn’t exactly a no, but you could tell you weren’t getting anything else out of him at least not today. Still, the image of him seated at a harpsichord, playing something intricate and masterful, settled in your mind. You found yourself wanting to hear it. The office settled into a comfortable silence, save for the faint scratch of your pen against paper as you reviewed your notes. Shadow Milk Cookie, meanwhile, remained focused on whatever he was examining perhaps his own research, or maybe reviewing another scholar’s work. You weren’t entirely sure, and you didn’t ask.

There was something oddly peaceful about this quiet. No pressure to speak, no lingering embarrassment from your earlier questions just the steady rhythm of work. You underlined a few key points from today’s lecture, then flipped to another page, going over older material to solidify what you’d learned. Every so often, you glanced up, watching the way Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes moved over the parchment in front of him, how his fingers occasionally tapped against the desk in thought. Before long, the hour passed, and you realized it was time to meet your friends for dinner. You closed your notebook with a soft thud, gathering your things as you stood. Shadow Milk Cookie barely looked up, but you still offered him a polite smile. “I’ll be heading out now. Have a good evening, Sage of Truth.” His quill paused mid-stroke, and for a brief moment, he regarded you before giving a small nod. “You as well.” With that, you slipped out of his office, making your way toward the dining hall. The quiet still lingered in your mind, though you weren’t sure why. You made your way to the dining hall, the familiar hum of conversation and clinking dishes filling the air as you grabbed a hearty meal larger than usual, to make up for skipping lunch. The scent of warm bread, roasted vegetables, and something sweet lingered in the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

With your tray balanced carefully in hand, you spotted your usual table and headed toward it, a content look settling on your face. Chai Latte Cookie, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, and Earl Grey Cookie were already there, deep in conversation about the latest academic workload. “Finally!” Chai Latte Cookie teased as you sat down. “You took forever! What, were you having another study date with the Sage of Truth?” You rolled your eyes, ignoring her as you set down your tray. Instead, you reached into your bag and pulled out Earl Grey Cookie’s report, sliding it across the table toward him. “Here. He looked over it.” Earl Grey Cookie’s eyes widened slightly, his usual composed demeanor slipping for just a second. “Wait, seriously?” He carefully took the parchment, scanning over the notes that had been added in the margins. “Of course,” you said, picking up your utensils. “I told you I’d ask.” The moment he spotted the first few notes, his brows furrowed, and he leaned in closer, as if absorbing every single mark on the page. Then, after a pause, he let out a small breath. “His handwriting is… incredible.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Right? It’s almost unfair. He could write anything, and it’d still look like it belongs in some ancient, prestigious manuscript.” Earl Grey Cookie hummed in agreement, still fixated on the notes. “His feedback is precise but thorough. He even pointed out areas where I could expand my argument instead of just correcting me outright.” “Well, that’s kind of how he teaches,” you said before taking a bite of your food. “He won’t just give you the answer, but he’ll make sure you realize what you’re missing.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. “You sound like you’re actually enjoying tutoring now.” You paused mid-bite, glancing away with a slight huff. “I never said that.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked knowingly but didn’t push further. Instead, the conversation naturally shifted, and the evening continued with the usual back-and-forth between your friends. Still, even as you ate, your mind drifted back to the precise, elegant strokes of Shadow Milk Cookie’s writing. A reflection of him, in a way structured, refined, and ever so careful with every detail. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “You won’t believe the kind of day I had,” he huffed, setting his utensils down with a little more force than necessary. “I almost had a full-blown argument with Professor Chamomile Truffle Cookie.” That caught everyone’s attention. Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow, Chai Latte Cookie leaned in with immediate interest, and you paused mid-bite. “Wait, what? What happened?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “So, we were going over spell refinement techniques in class today, and I made a counterpoint to something he said about the sustainability of layered enchantments. And instead of considering it, he just-he completely dismissed me!” Chai Latte Cookie whistled. “Oof. That bad?” “Oh, it gets worse,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, clearly still irritated. “I asked him to clarify why my point was invalid, and he just gave me some vague answer about ‘conventional wisdom’ and ‘historical precedent’ instead of actually addressing what I said.” Earl Grey Cookie sighed. “Classic.” You frowned. “But your argument had merit, right?”

“Exactly! I even cited a recent paper on the matter, but he just waved it off like it wasn’t worth discussing.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I respect the guy, but I hate when professors refuse to acknowledge that newer research exists.” You nodded in understanding. “So… did you drop it, or did it actually turn into an argument?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hesitated, then sighed, slumping slightly. “I almost pushed it further, but I stopped myself. Barely. He’s still my professor, and I don’t want to dig myself into a hole just for the sake of proving a point.” “Smart move,” Earl Grey Cookie remarked. “Though I’d argue it’s still worth bringing up again. Maybe outside of class, in a setting where he’s more likely to actually listen.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “That’s the thing, I don’t know if he ever would. He’s set in his ways, and I doubt he sees me as anything more than just another student with too many opinions.” Chai Latte Cookie patted his arm reassuringly. “Well, we think you’re brilliant. And you’re right just because something has been accepted for a long time doesn’t mean it can’t be challenged.” You nodded. “Yeah. Besides, if you’re really onto something, the research itself will prove it over time. Even if he doesn’t listen now, someone else will.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed again, but this time, it was less frustrated. “Yeah… maybe you’re right.” Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “Of course we are. Now, eat your food before you turn this into a whole lecture of your own.” That finally got a chuckle out of him, and just like that, the tension eased, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. You smiled to yourself, relieved to see your friend in better spirits. Even so, a thought lingered in your mind. You had been lucky, your tutor, despite his intimidating presence and overwhelming knowledge, had never dismissed you. He never waved off your questions or belittled your struggles. Even when your progress was slow, he always made space for your thoughts, your learning.

You wondered if Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie had ever wished for that kind of guidance, too. Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eye, practically bouncing in her seat. “You will not believe what I saw today.” You blinked, mid-bite. “Is this about them?” “Oh, it absolutely is.” She waggled her brows, eyes gleaming with excitement. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “Stars above, not this again.” Earl Grey Cookie, however, merely sipped his tea. “Go on.” Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “So, I was passing by the faculty greenhouse, right? Minding my own business, being a completely innocent scholar with no intention of overhearing anything-” Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow. “That sounds unlikely.” “Hush. Anyway, I hear voices, so obviously, I investigate.” She paused for effect, then dramatically placed a hand over her heart. “And there they were Professor Star Anise Cookie and Professor Frosted Clementine Cookie, together.” You straightened. “Oh? What happened?” Chai Latte Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. “They were arguing but not in an angry way, more like a ‘we have unresolved feelings but neither of us wants to admit it’ way.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a long sigh. “Why do you know what that sounds like?” She ignored him. “I couldn’t catch everything, but I swear I heard something about ‘this isn’t the right time’ and ‘what do you expect me to say?’” She gasped, clutching your arm. “It was so tense! And then! Oh, you’re going to love this he reached for her hand again!” “No way,” you whispered, eyes widening. “Oh, yes way.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked. “But she pulled back. Not in a bad way, though more like she was flustered, but trying to act like she wasn’t.” She placed a hand on her chest, sighing dramatically. “It was so tragic.”

Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “Professor Clementine is rather reserved. If something is truly going on between them, she may not want it to be public.” “Exactly!” Chai Latte Cookie pointed at him. “Which makes this even more intriguing.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shook his head. “I don’t understand how you all have the energy for this.” “Because we thrive on it,” you said with a grin. Chai Latte Cookie snapped her fingers. “Exactly! Life is exhausting, studies are grueling, but a little mystery and romance? It fuels us.” Earl Grey Cookie smirked. “So, the real question is what happens next?” “Oh, I will find out,” Chai Latte Cookie declared with determination. You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course you will.” As much as you worried about your studies, about everything that lay ahead, moments like this sharing stories, teasing each other, losing yourselves in silly intrigue made it all a little easier. You narrowed your eyes at Chai Latte Cookie, your spoon hovering over your plate. “Wait a minute… You didn’t just happen to pass by the faculty greenhouse, did you?” Chai Latte Cookie gasped, a hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “How dare you imply such a thing?” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, setting his teacup down. “So, you did go looking for them.” Chai Latte Cookie huffed, crossing her arms. “Look, after what someone said yesterday” she gestured dramatically at you “I had to confirm. You can’t just drop a revelation like that and expect me to not investigate.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Chai, I told you that in confidence! You were supposed to just enjoy the information, not go snooping for more!” Chai Latte Cookie grinned unapologetically. “Oh, please. You knew exactly what would happen the moment you told me. Besides, aren’t you glad I did? Now we know there’s something going on!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I don’t even have the energy to argue with you anymore.” Chai Latte Cookie wiggled her eyebrows at you. “Admit it you love that I found out more.” You tried to look exasperated, but a small part of you was curious. “…Okay, maybe a little.” “I knew it!” She beamed, victorious. Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “You are relentless.” Chai Latte Cookie flipped her hair. “Thank you. I try.” You sighed, shaking your head but smiling all the same. “You’re impossible.” Chai Latte Cookie nudged you. “And yet, you’d be lost without me.” Despite yourself, you laughed. She wasn’t wrong. You leaned forward eagerly, unable to hold back your excitement any longer. "Okay, but listen I got all my homework right today. All of it." Chai Latte Cookie gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. "No way! Not a single mistake?"

You shook your head, beaming. "Not one! He even praised me for it. Said my reasoning was solid and everything!" Earl Grey Cookie raised an eyebrow, impressed. "That’s quite the accomplishment, considering your usual complaints about the assignments." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked, stirring his tea. "So, what you're saying is… our dear scholar is finally learning?" You huffed, but it was hard to act offended when you were still so overjoyed. "Yes, finally! You guys, I can't even explain it, it just felt so good hearing that I did well. No corrections, no misunderstandings just right." Chai Latte Cookie practically melted, clutching her heart. "Ugh, I love this for you! All that work is finally paying off!" Earl Grey Cookie gave you a small nod of approval. "You should be proud. It’s not easy getting through material at that level without a single error." "I am proud," you admitted, grinning. "I mean, I know I still have a long way to go, but for once, I didn’t feel completely lost." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. "That’s how you know it’s real progress." Chai Latte Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. "So, did he look proud of you?" You blinked, caught off guard. "I mean, he said I did well. And he did smile a little…" She gasped dramatically. "Ohhh, a smile? From him?" Earl Grey Cookie sighed, shaking his head. "Here we go." You groaned, covering your face. "Chai, please" But she was already giggling. "What? I’m just saying, it’s cute!" You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. "I swear, you will find romance in anything." "Of course! It makes life more interesting." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie rolled his eyes but smiled. "Alright, alright. Let’s not let their achievement get buried under your dramatics." "Thank you," you said pointedly. Chai Latte Cookie stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to you, squeezing your hand. "Seriously, though. I’m really proud of you. We all are." The warmth in your chest grew, and you gave them all a grateful smile. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."

It really did. Dinner ended on a high note, laughter lingering in the air even as you parted ways with your friends. The warmth of their encouragement, their easy camaraderie, and the sheer joy of the evening stayed with you as you made your way back to your dorm. The cool night air did little to temper the giddy excitement bubbling in your chest. You did it. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had a moment where everything clicked where you weren’t just barely scraping by but actually succeeding. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was Friday. The last day of classes for the week. Maybe you’d sleep in after that. Maybe you’d allow yourself to just exist for a little while without worrying about coursework or expectations. The thought made you sigh contentedly as you unlocked your door, stepping inside and shutting out the world for the night. For once, things felt good. And you’d let yourself enjoy it. The morning light streamed through your window as you groggily blinked awake, stretching with a lazy yawn. You glanced at the clock far earlier than you usually managed to wake up. Maybe it was the excitement from last night still lingering in your bones. With a sigh, you swung your legs out of bed and prepared for the day, grabbing your things before heading out. That was when you checked your schedule… and stopped dead in your tracks. Professor Almond Cookie had canceled class.

For a moment, you just stood there, blinking at the notification as if rereading it would somehow make it untrue. A free morning? No impending doom of assignments or lectures? Your first instinct was to mope after all, what were you supposed to do now? But then another thought hit you, one much more pressing. Breakfast. Your stomach grumbled as if in agreement, and without a second thought, you took off toward the dining hall. You weren’t about to waste a rare opportunity for a peaceful morning meal. In your pursuit of food, you turned a corner a little too sharply, nearly colliding with someone. You skidded to a stop just in time, breath catching in surprise as you found yourself face-to-face with none other than “Shadow Milk Cookie?” The Sage of Truth blinked at you, clearly caught off guard. But as quickly as the surprise came, it melted into his usual composed demeanor, golden eyes steady as they regarded you. "Such haste this early in the morning?" he mused, crossing his arms with a slight shake of his head. "I would hope you are not fleeing from trouble." You huffed, straightening up. "I am not fleeing from anything," you said, before flashing him a grin. "I’m just excited for breakfast! No class today, so I figured I’d get an early start." Shadow Milk Cookie gave a hum of understanding, though there was still a hint of amusement in his gaze. "A fortunate turn of events, then." "Right?" You rocked on your heels before glancing at him curiously. "Wait, are you headed to breakfast too?" "It would seem so," he admitted, falling into step beside you as you both continued toward the dining hall. You hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him with a small smile. "Would you want to sit with me and my friends? If you're not too busy, I mean."

There was a brief pause as he considered the offer. Then, in a tone just as measured as ever, he replied, "If you would have me, then I suppose I shall accept." You grinned, barely able to contain your excitement. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Chai Latte Cookie’s face when she realized who was joining you all for breakfast. You grabbed a tray and followed Shadow Milk Cookie into the dining hall, scanning the variety of food laid out before you. As you both moved down the line, you found yourself glancing at his choices his plate was neatly arranged with an assortment of nutritious foods grains, fruits, and a balanced portion of protein. It wasn’t anything particularly extravagant, but there was something refined about the way he selected his meal, as if even his breakfast was chosen with careful consideration. You weren’t sure why, but it made you hesitate for a moment when it was your turn. Normally, you might have gone for something simple, maybe something indulgent since you had the time to enjoy it today. But instead, you found yourself reaching for waffles then topping them with an artful arrangement of fruit and a generous dollop of yogurt. Unconsciously, you even made sure to pick a balanced variety, adding a side of nuts for protein, almost as if…You blinked, realizing what you were doing only after your tray was already full. Shadow Milk Cookie, of course, remained oblivious to your internal realization, calmly waiting for you before heading toward the seating area.

You followed, trying to push away the sudden awareness creeping in. It wasn’t like you had done it because of him… right? It was just… breakfast. A normal, completely regular breakfast. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you took your seat beside him. Chai Latte Cookie, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, and Earl Grey Cookie hesitantly approached the table, their gazes flickering toward Shadow Milk Cookie before settling on you. You wasted no time addressing them the moment they sat down. "Okay, why did nobody tell me class was canceled?" you demanded, placing your fork down with a huff. "I walked all the way to the lecture hall only to find an empty room! I could’ve just come straight here for breakfast!" Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t check your messages?" You blinked. "There was a message?" Earl Grey Cookie let out a quiet sigh and took a sip of his tea. "Professor Almond sent out an announcement last night. I assume you were too busy with your notes to notice?" Your face heated slightly. Okay, maybe you had been too caught up reviewing your material, but still! "Would’ve been nice if one of you sent me a reminder," you muttered, spearing a piece of fruit with unnecessary force. Chai Latte Cookie grinned, leaning on the table with her chin in her hands. "Oh, but then you wouldn’t have had this lovely little breakfast moment, would you?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief as they flickered between you and Shadow Milk Cookie. You gave her a look. Not now. Shadow Milk Cookie, to his credit, remained composed as ever, merely observing the exchange with mild amusement as he continued eating. Hazelnut Biscotti sighed, shaking his head. "You make it sound like we plotted against them."Chai Latte giggled. "I'm just saying, things worked out pretty well, didn't they?" You rolled your eyes, but despite everything, you couldn't help but smile. Even with the morning mishap, the warmth of familiar company and an unexpectedly pleasant breakfast companion made up for it. Earl Grey Cookie set his teacup down with measured precision, regarding Shadow Milk Cookie with a curious yet respectful gaze. “To what do we owe the pleasure of the Sage of Truth joining us this morning?”

Shadow Milk Cookie, composed as ever, stirred his tea before replying, “A simple convergence of circumstances. Your friend and I happened upon each other on our way to breakfast.” His gaze flickered to you, just barely amused. “With great enthusiasm, I might add.” You bristled slightly. “I was just… walking.” “Hmm.” Shadow Milk Cookie made a soft, knowing sound, but said nothing further. Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “I didn’t even know you ate breakfast in the dining hall. You must be so busy that we never see you.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a small, thoughtful nod. “My schedule is… fluid. But when the opportunity arises, I see no reason to forgo a well-balanced meal.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hummed, inspecting the spread on his tray before glancing at yours. “So, is that why they suddenly decided to eat like an actual scholar today?” You blinked, looking down at your plate fresh fruit, yogurt, whole grains all things you had absentmindedly grabbed while walking alongside Shadow Milk. Only now did you realize how closely it resembled his own meal. Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “Ohhh. Interesting.” You hurriedly shoveled a bite of food into your mouth. “I just wanted something healthy!” Earl Grey Cookie smirked. “No need to justify it. Imitation is a form of admiration, after all.” You groaned. “Can we not start this early?” Shadow Milk Cookie, seemingly unbothered by the teasing, merely sipped his tea. “Curiosity is natural. And if it results in a more mindful approach to one’s well-being, I see no reason to object.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Translation You got caught copying him, and he’s letting you off the hook.” Chai Latte Cookie laughed. “Hey, at least now we know the Sage of Truth is a good influence.” She then turned her attention back to him. “Speaking of which you’re always buried in books, but what do you actually do for fun?” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded her for a moment before answering in his usual, measured tone. “Truth-seeking is inherently enjoyable.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “That’s not an answer.” Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “It’s the answer we should have expected.” You tried to hide your smile behind your teacup, feeling lighter than you had in a while. Breakfast with your friends was always a good way to start the day but having Shadow Milk Cookie here, for once, made it feel… different. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. There was an odd sort of warmth in knowing something about him that no one else at the table did. As the conversation carried on Chai Latte Cookie enthusiastically leading the charge into another round of campus gossip you let yourself sink into your thoughts. The harpsichord. The image of Shadow Milk Cookie, so composed and measured, playing something intricate and beautiful, lingered in your mind. It was almost impossible to picture, yet at the same time, it made perfect sense.

A secret, just for you.Chai Latte Cookie called your name, but the sound barely registered, lost in the hum of conversation around you. Your thoughts had wandered, lingering on the quiet revelation from earlier that Shadow Milk Cookie played the harpsichord. You were still caught up in the quiet satisfaction of knowing something about Shadow Milk Cookie that no one else did…that he played the harpsichord, that there was a piece of him separate from the scholar, the beacon of truth, something personal. It felt almost delicate, like if you dwelled on it too long, it would slip through your fingers. It felt nice, knowing something so small yet personal about him, like a secret meant just for you. He was always a figure of knowledge and composure, admired from afar, but this? This made him feel… real.

A light tap against your wrist jolted you back to the present. "You seem rather lost in thought," Shadow Milk Cookie remarked, his tone even as ever. He had barely moved, his golden eyes steady on you, but there was a quiet insistence to his words. You blinked, realizing the table had gone quiet, all eyes now on you. "Finally," Chai Latte huffed. "I called you like three times!" Earl Grey Cookie raised a curious brow, sipping his tea. "You looked practically entranced." You opened your mouth, scrambling for an excuse, but before you could speak, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned forward slightly, eyeing you with mock concern. "Did you eat anything questionable in the past twenty-four hours?" he asked, half-joking but still watching you like you might suddenly pass out. "Something expired? A cursed snack, maybe?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "No, I’m fine. Just thinking." "About?" Chai Latte pressed, eyes gleaming. "Nothing important," you muttered, reaching for your drink. Hazelnut Biscotti still looked suspicious. "If you suddenly start floating or speaking in tongues, I’m calling an exorcist." You snorted, shaking your head as the conversation moved on. Still, you could feel Shadow Milk Cookie's gaze lingering just a little longer before he, too, returned his focus elsewhere. You suddenly perked up, energy returning to your voice as a thought struck you. "Oh! Speaking of weird things, I actually heard-" You stopped mid-sentence, your mouth hanging slightly open as you quickly reevaluated your words.

Right. Shadow Milk Cookie was here. Your excitement deflated in an instant, and you cleared your throat, waving a hand dismissively. "Ah, never mind. It’s not important." Chai Latte Cookie immediately narrowed her eyes. "Oh, absolutely not. You don’t just get all excited and then drop it like that. Spill." "It’s nothing," you insisted, shoving a spoonful of yogurt-covered waffle into your mouth for good measure. Earl Grey Cookie smirked. "Is it nothing? Or is it something you don’t want to say in present company?" Your eyes darted toward Shadow Milk Cookie, who, to his credit, looked completely unbothered, idly stirring his tea as he listened. "You are under no obligation to filter your words on my account," he said, voice as composed as ever. "However, if it is something you hesitate to share, I will not pry." Which, somehow, only made it worse. "No, no, it’s not that!" you quickly denied, feeling your face heat up. "It’s just… a dumb rumor about a professor I had last semester. Probably baseless, so no point in spreading it." Chai Latte Cookie groaned dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But if I hear it from someone else first, I’m going to be personally offended." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie gave you a side-eye. "So it is gossip." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I am not engaging in slander first thing in the morning, thank you very much." "That’s personal growth," Earl Grey Cookie quipped. Chai Latte rolled her eyes. "It’s boring, that’s what it is." Despite yourself, you laughed, the conversation moving forward with ease. Still, as you stole a quick glance at Shadow Milk Cookie, you couldn’t help but wonder did he really not care for gossip? Or was he just exceptionally good at keeping his thoughts to himself?

You huffed, leaning forward on the table. “Alright, since you’re here, you have to contribute something.” Shadow Milk Cookie blinked, clearly amused by your demand. “Oh?” “You’ve been sitting there, listening to our gossip, but you haven’t shared a single thing,” you pointed out, tapping your spoon against the table for emphasis. “That’s unfair.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “They’re right! The Sage of Truth is holding back the truth? How scandalous!” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, swirling his tea lazily. “A betrayal of principle, truly.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shook his head with a sigh. “You all sound ridiculous.” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he rested his chin on his hand. “And what, exactly, do you expect me to share?” You grinned. “I dunno. Something. What’s the most interesting thing you’ve overheard lately?” He hummed, appearing thoughtful. Then, in a calm, deliberate tone, he said, “I did hear an amusing rumor recently… Apparently, a certain group of scholars has been sneaking into the Academy gardens at odd hours to perform what they claim are ‘rituals’ to enhance their studies.” Chai Latte Cookie immediately perked up. “What?!” Earl Grey Cookie quirked a brow. “Rituals?” Shadow Milk Cookie nodded. “Yes. They believe that by studying under the moonlight, they can absorb celestial wisdom and heighten their comprehension.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “That’s ridiculous.” You, however, were intrigued. “Wait… who even started that rumor?” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head slightly, his smile unreadable. “One could say it started with them. Whether or not it holds any truth… well, that is another matter.” Chai Latte Cookie practically vibrated in her seat. “Okay, but who are they?” Shadow Milk Cookie simply sipped his tea. “Now, now. Wouldn’t it be more fun to find out for yourselves?” Earl Grey Cookie sighed. “Of course. We should’ve known he wouldn’t just hand us the answer.” You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. But next time, you owe us actual gossip.” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled knowingly. “We shall see.”

Chai Latte Cookie huffed, leaning back in her seat. “Honestly, I don’t know what I expected. Of course he wouldn’t just spill everything.” Earl Grey Cookie took a measured sip of his tea. “Still, that’s an interesting rumor. I wonder if it’s just a group of eccentric students or if there’s more to it.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, however, looked unimpressed. “There’s nothing to it. Some students just get desperate before exams and do whatever they can to convince themselves they’ll do better.” You snickered. “So, you don’t think the moon is whispering secrets to them?” He shot you a dry look. “Absolutely not.” Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, eyes glimmering mischievously. “Now, imagine if the Sage of Truth himself did something like that. The entire Academy would go into shock.” You turned to Shadow Milk Cookie, grinning. “Do you have any secret study rituals?” His expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of amusement in his golden eyes. “If I did, I would hardly reveal them now, would I?” Chai Latte Cookie gasped. “So you admit it?” “I admitted nothing.” You shook your head, laughing. “Alright, alright. I won’t press further.” You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a content sigh. “Well, since I have nothing to do now, I might as well tag along with you.” The words left your mouth before you fully processed them, and the moment they did, the atmosphere around the table subtly shifted. You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of their stares. Had… had you just spoken to Shadow Milk Cookie like that? So casually? You set your fork down, glancing at Shadow Milk Cookie with barely restrained curiosity. Maybe it was the energy from breakfast, or maybe it was just the fact that you were feeling bold after already speaking so casually to him once. Either way, the question left your mouth before you could think twice. “So, what are you doing after this, Shadow Milk Cookie?” A follow up question to test the waters but, the moment his name left your lips, you realized how easily it had slipped out. There was no heavy title, no layers of formality just his name, spoken like you might address any other scholar. And your friends noticed. Earl Grey Cookie’s spoon clinked against his cup, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s gaze flickered toward you, and Chai Latte Cookie, ever so perceptive, shot you a look that practically screamed, Oh? You ignored all of them. “Do you have to teach a class or anything?” you added, trying to make the question sound completely normal, as if you hadn’t just stunned the entire table. Shadow Milk Cookie, to his credit, did not look fazed. If anything, his golden eyes flickered with amusement, as though he were fully aware of the effect your words had on the group but chose not to comment on it.

“I do not have a lecture to give today,” he answered smoothly, setting his teacup down. “My time, for the most part, is dedicated to my research.” That piqued your interest. “What kind of research?” “Various inquiries, as always. But I am currently focused on an ongoing analysis of arcane inscriptions found in the older halls of the Academy.” Your brows raised. That did sound interesting. “Oh, so you’re just going to be reading all day?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips curled slightly. “Would that be disappointing?” “No, I just…” You hesitated before leaning forward slightly. “Can I come see?” For the second time that morning, your words seemed to surprise your friends. This time, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie actually stopped eating to look at you properly, and Chai Latte Cookie made a quiet noise of intrigue. Earl Grey Cookie simply observed, as though waiting to see how Shadow Milk Cookie would respond. And respond he did. “If you are truly that interested,” he said, eyes gleaming, “then you are welcome to accompany me.” You blinked. “Wait… really?” “Did you expect me to refuse?” “Well… maybe.” He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Curiosity should not be stifled. If you wish to see what I am working on, I see no reason to deny you.” Chai Latte Cookie made a small movement, crossing her arms with an amused smirk. “Huh.” You did not like that ‘huh.’ But instead of engaging, you focused on Shadow Milk Cookie, feeling a spark of excitement. “Alright then. I’ll come with you.” And just like that, you had agreed to spend the rest of the morning with the Sage of Truth himself.

Your friends bid you farewell, each with their own expressions of intrigue. Chai Latte Cookie gave you a knowing smile, Earl Grey Cookie simply nodded in acknowledgment, and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie well, he had other plans. Just as you turned to leave, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “If you see anything interesting, bring me back a souvenir.” You blinked. “A… souvenir?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shrugged. “I mean, he’s letting you tag along to his research. That counts for something, right? Who knows what you’ll find? Maybe an old scroll, a mysterious trinket” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t think it works like that.” “Still,” he said, crossing his arms, “if there is something, I’d appreciate it.” You gave him a skeptical look, but there was no real harm in humoring him. “Fine, if there’s something. No promises.” He smirked, satisfied, before nudging you toward the waiting Shadow Milk Cookie. “Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting.” With one last glance at your friends, you turned back to the Sage of Truth, who had been waiting patiently, his expression unreadable but amused nonetheless. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning for you to follow. And with that, you walked beside him, ready to see just what kind of research he had in store. As you walked alongside Shadow Milk Cookie, the air felt different lighter, almost surreal. Maybe it was the quiet between you both, or maybe it was just the lingering excitement from being invited into a space most scholars could only dream of.

A/N Nothing happened earlier I never ever reuploaded ch 9 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 But anyways tomorrow is FRIDAYYY!!!! and everything I was supposed to go this weekend got cancelled bc "Lack of funding" LIKE WHAT I REGISTERED FOR THIS CONFERENCE 2 WEEKS IN ADVANCE WDYMMMM

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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