#I do wonder how many of you recognized these

[unsolicited-opinions]

I generally detest the New York Post, but they're the ones reporting on the EEOC complaint of Mr. Wilson and Mr. Torres, Columbia janitors.

Both men are making claims under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, alleging that they faced retaliatory harassment at the institution for “reporting antisemitic and racist conduct.”

...

“Hours after President [Minouche] Shafik issued her statement [that the university had become ‘unsafe for everyone‘], an antisemitic mob assaulted two janitors inside Columbia’s historic Hamilton Hall, calling them ‘Jew-lovers,'” the two complaints for both men recalled of the Hamilton Hall takeover in April last year.

It all began around November 2023, shortly after the bloody Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel sparked a war. Racist and antisemitic graffiti started to pop up, scrawled all around Hamilton Hall — and the campus’s janitors were forced to clean it up. “Mr. Wilson recognized the swastikas as symbols of white supremacy,” Wilson’s complaint alleges. “As an African-American man, he found the images deeply distressing. He reported them to his supervisors, who instructed him to erase the graffiti.” “No matter how many times Mr. Wilson removed the swastikas, individuals kept replacing them with more.”

Wilson lost track of how many swastikas he had to scrub, but his colleague Torres, who is Latino, pegged it in the dozens and eventually reached a point where he had enough, his complaint said

“They were so offensive, and Columbia’s inaction was so frustrating, that he eventually began throwing away chalk that had been left in the classrooms so vandals would not have anything to write with,” Torres’ complaint alleged. “However, Mr. Torres was reprimanded by his supervisor for doing so.” ...

In one instance, around Dec. 6, 2023, Torres and Wilson observed masked protesters storm through Hamilton Hall chanting “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” and scrawling swastikas as well as other obscene graffiti in the building.

After Wilson reported that, he was told by campus security that “the trespassers and vandals were exercising their First Amendment rights” and that “nothing could be done,” per the complaint.

On the takeover of Hamilton Hall:

Rioters had moved vending machines and zip-tied doors to barricade the exits and entrances. After deciding he was out of options, Torres decided to battle his way through the mob. ‘”I’m going to get twenty guys up here to f— you up,'” one masked rioter who had “violently” shoved Torres threatened, per the complaint. “Mr. Torres pulled a fire extinguisher, which was within arm’s reach, off the wall to defend himself and replied, ‘I’ll be right here.’” During that confrontation, Torres was repeatedly struck on his back by other rioters. After repeatedly navigating to blocked-off exits, he eventually found a way out that had been blocked by zip ties and a bike lock. Following his pleas, one of the rioters cut the zip ties and let him out. Wilson had been separated from Torres during the havoc and had quickly tried to escape after determining the rioters were taking over. During his scramble to get out, rioters smashed furniture into him and pushed him repeatedly, per the complaint.

“He recalls saying, ‘I work here. Let me out,'” the complained alleged. “The rioters responded by laughing at him and mocking him. He remembers being told, ‘You work for the Jews,’ and ‘You’re a Zionist.’ Eventually, someone opened a door and Mr. Wilson was physically pushed out of the building.”

Added 3/18/25, from May 2024:

If you have paywall issues, use this.

[odileeclipse]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 9

<<<Previous Next>>>

You drummed your fingers against the edge of your notebook, staring at the corrections Shadow Milk Cookie had pointed out. You had already rewritten most of the problem areas, refining your explanations, filling in the missing steps. Soon, your work would be as polished as it could get. And then what? You swallowed, shifting in your chair as a thought that had been lingering in the back of your mind finally surfaced. “How many more of these do you think I’ll need?” Shadow Milk Cookie, seated across from you in his office, glanced up from his own work. His golden eyes flickered with quiet curiosity. “Clarify.” “These tutoring sessions,” you said, feigning nonchalance as you tapped your quill against the parchment. “At some point, I’ll be good enough on my own, right? So… how much longer before I don’t need them?” He regarded you carefully, setting his papers aside. “That is not a question I can answer definitively.” You huffed out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Of course not.” “Improvement is an ongoing process,” he continued, unbothered by your reaction. “It does not cease simply because one reaches a threshold of competency.” You nodded absently, but your mind had already started to drift. Of course, he was right he always was but that wasn’t really the heart of what you were asking. At some point, these tutoring sessions would end. At some point, you would stop meeting with him like this just the two of you, in the quiet of his office, surrounded by books and the faint scent of parchment and old ink. Your stomach twisted slightly. You had been struggling for so long that improvement felt like a distant dream, something to chase but never quite reach. And now? Now it was finally happening. You were getting better. He had acknowledged it himself, and though he would never coddle you with outright praise, you could tell he recognized your efforts.

But what happened when there was no more need for his guidance? Shadow Milk Cookie was a figure far beyond your reach in the academic world. He only taught high-level courses, ones you had little hope of qualifying for anytime soon. If not for these tutoring sessions, you would have had no reason to interact with him at all. And when they were over… you wouldn’t anymore. You shifted in your seat, the realization sitting uncomfortably in your chest. “I guess I was just wondering,” you murmured, eyes fixed on your notes, “when I’ll stop needing to come here at all.” Shadow Milk Cookie observed you for a moment before responding. “Is that what you desire?” You blinked, glancing up at him. Was it? You had dreaded tutoring at first dreaded the thought of being under the scrutiny of someone so renowned, someone so impossibly intelligent. And yet, now… Now, the thought of not being here felt strangely hollow. You forced a small smile, shrugging. “Well, all good things have to end eventually, right?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice as composed as ever, he said, “Perhaps.” The single word lingered in the air between you, neither a confirmation nor a denial. And yet, something about the way he said it made your chest tighten just a little. You lowered your gaze back to your notebook. For now, at least, these sessions weren’t over yet. And you weren’t in such a hurry for them to be.

Your fingers curled slightly around the edge of your notebook, your gaze drifting from the pages to the scholar seated across from you. The warm glow of the enchanted lamps cast soft shadows across his desk, illuminating the meticulously arranged books and parchment. Shadow Milk Cookie, ever composed, was glancing over a separate manuscript perhaps something unrelated to your session, or perhaps some ancient text that only a mind like his could decipher with ease. You hesitated, staring at him for a moment longer than you should have. The words formed slowly, heavy on your tongue before you finally managed to voice them. “And… after all this,” you began, carefully, “would I still be allowed a fraction of your time?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s golden eyes lifted from his work, meeting yours with quiet intensity. His gaze was steady, not startled, not dismissive, just… observing. As if measuring the weight of your question before offering an answer. You quickly looked back down, fingers tightening around your notebook. “I know you’re busy,” you continued, keeping your voice level. “You’re a scholar, a mentor. There are plenty of students who actually belong in your classes, who actually need your time. I’m not-I mean, I wasn’t even supposed to have these sessions in the first place, so I get it. I just…” You exhaled slowly, feeling foolish for even asking. “I just wanted to know if when this is all over I’d still be able to come to you. Even if it’s just once in a while.”

There. You had said it. There was silence for a moment. Not uncomfortable but weighted. You forced yourself to look up again, only to find Shadow Milk Cookie regarding you with that same unreadable expression. When he finally spoke, his voice was as measured as ever. “It is true that I am often occupied.” Your stomach twisted slightly. “But,” he continued, his tone softer than before, “if you have need of guidance, I would not turn you away.” Your breath caught. It wasn’t a grand declaration. It wasn’t an invitation, nor was it a promise of time freely given. It was simply… an acknowledgment. A confirmation that, despite the inevitable end of these sessions, despite the divide between your standing and his, you would not be dismissed outright. It wasn’t everything. But it was enough. You swallowed, nodding. “Right. Of course. Thank you.” Shadow Milk Cookie inclined his head slightly before returning to his work, as if nothing had changed. But for you, something had. Because even when these sessions ended, even when the structure of weekly meetings and guided lessons fell away, there would still be a path back to him. Not as a student in need of tutoring but as a scholar seeking wisdom.

You carefully gathered your things, slipping your notebook into your bag as you rose from your seat. Shadow Milk Cookie had already turned his attention back to his manuscripts, his golden eyes scanning the delicate inked text with unwavering focus. You hesitated for just a moment before speaking. “…Thank you for your time.” He didn’t look up immediately, but he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Use it wisely.” You weren’t sure if he meant the knowledge he had shared with you or the time itself. Maybe both. Either way, you nodded, gripping your bag a little tighter as you made your way to the door. The cool brass handle was smooth beneath your fingers as you stepped out into the quiet corridors of the Scholars’ Wing. The moment the door shut behind you, you released a slow breath, as if shaking off the weight of the session. Not that it was a burden no, if anything, you felt lighter in some ways. More certain of your steps. But also… heavier in a way you couldn’t quite describe. You shook your head. No use lingering on it now. You had other things to focus on. Adjusting your bag, you set off toward the dining hall, your pace brisk. You hadn’t had the chance to chat with your friends earlier, and after spending so much time analyzing, correcting, and reevaluating, a little familiarity sounded nice. If you were lucky, Chai Latte, Hazelnut Biscotti, and Earl Grey would already be there, saving a seat for you. The halls of Blueberry Yogurt Academy carried their usual late-evening quiet, the kind that settled after most scholars had retreated to their dormitories or study halls. The faint glow of enchanted lanterns flickered along the walls, casting a soft, ethereal light as you made your way through the winding corridors. As you neared the grand entrance of the dining hall, the distant murmur of voices and clinking silverware greeted you. The warmth of the space seeped into your skin before you had even stepped inside, a stark contrast to the cool air of the Scholars’ Wing. And for a moment you allowed yourself to set aside formulas, calculations, and the lingering weight of scholarly expectations. For now, you just wanted to be with your friends.

Balancing your tray, you weaved through the bustling dining hall, the comforting aroma of warm, freshly prepared food lingering in the air. The glow of enchanted lanterns cast a golden hue over the long wooden tables, where groups of scholars sat in clusters, deep in conversation. Your eyes quickly found them Chai Latte, Hazelnut Biscotti, and Earl Grey, huddled together at your usual spot near the wide arched windows. The three of them were already deep in discussion, voices low but animated, leaning in as if exchanging some grand secret. Of course. They always ended up like this, discussing whatever academic gossip, theoretical debate, or absurd rumor had surfaced that day. It was tradition by now no matter how busy you all were, dinner was the time to reconnect. As you approached, Chai Latte Cookie spotted you first. Her ears perked up as she waved you over, a warm grin spreading across her face. “Oh, finally! We were starting to think Shadow Milk kidnapped you for extra lessons or something.” Hazelnut Biscotti chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Given the way you’ve been practically living in the Scholars’ Wing, I wouldn’t have been surprised.” Earl Grey, who had been sipping his tea with an unreadable expression, finally glanced up. “I assume it went well?” You set your tray down, sliding into the open seat between Chai Latte and Hazelnut Biscotti. “Define ‘well.’” Chai Latte smirked, resting her chin in her hand. “That bad, huh?” You exhaled, picking at your food absentmindedly. “It’s not that it was bad. I just…” You hesitated, unsure how to put the feeling into words. It was true that you were improving. Shadow Milk himself had acknowledged it. But the thought of your tutoring eventually coming to an end it lingered in the back of your mind, unwelcome and difficult to shake. Earl Grey studied you for a moment before setting his cup down with a soft clink. “Something on your mind?” You glanced down at your plate. “…Just thinking about how much longer I have left before I don’t need tutoring anymore.” For a second, there was silence. Then, Chai Latte hummed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You sighed. “I mean, no. Obviously, it’s good that I’m getting better. I just…” You frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “I won’t really have a reason to see him after, will I?” The words felt strange coming out, but they were true.

Shadow Milk was a renowned scholar, an academic figure so highly regarded that students like you would never have had the opportunity to be taught by him under normal circumstances. He wasn’t a professor for general coursework; he lectured at the highest levels, among the greatest minds of the Academy. Once your tutoring ended, what reason would he have to spare time for you? Hazelnut Biscotti tapped a thoughtful finger against the table. “You could still ask for guidance,” he mused. “He hardly seems the type to refuse an earnest pursuit of knowledge.” Earl Grey nodded slightly. “It isn’t as though he’d suddenly forget you exist once your tutoring ends.” Chai Latte elbowed you lightly. “And hey, maybe you’ll impress him enough that he’ll let you take one of his classes someday.” You snorted. “Yeah, right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” But despite your skepticism, their words eased something in your chest. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as simple as the end of tutoring, meaning the end of knowing him. Maybe there would still be a way a reason to stay in touch. For now, though, you shook your head, letting yourself settle into the warmth of your friends’ company. There would be plenty of time to figure things out later.

Chai Latte Cookie leaned in, eyes gleaming with barely-contained excitement as she dramatically whispered, “Alright, so you all won’t believe what I heard today.” Hazelnut Biscotti sighed, already adjusting his glasses. “Here we go…” Earl Grey, ever composed, simply lifted his teacup, the slightest raise of his brow the only indication that he was mildly intrigued. You smirked, propping your elbow on the table. “Alright, let’s hear it.” Chai Latte grinned, clearly reveling in the anticipation. “So, you know that second-year alchemy student, Chestnut Praline Cookie? The one with the horrifically unstable potions?” “The one who accidentally turned the entire east corridor into a swamp last semester?” Hazelnut Biscotti deadpanned. “That’s the one!” Chai Latte beamed. “Anyway, I heard from very reliable sources” “Meaning?” Earl Grey interjected smoothly. She waved him off. “Irrelevant! The point is, I heard that during today’s lab session, they were supposed to be brewing a simple fortification tonic, but” she paused for dramatic effect, looking at each of you before continuing, “they messed up the proportions so badly that instead of a tonic, they made an unstable crystallization compound. It reacted immediately, turned rock-solid inside the cauldron, and then exploded.” You blinked. “Wait. Exploded? Like, actually exploded?” “Like boom,” she confirmed, flinging her hands outward to emphasize the blast. “Whole classroom covered in glittery, indestructible shards of whatever-the-heck they created.” Hazelnut Biscotti groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How does this keep happening?” “I have no idea,” Chai Latte admitted, clearly enjoying herself. “But here’s the best part…they panicked and tried to neutralize it with a dissolving elixir, except they grabbed the wrong bottle and-” “Oh no,” you murmured, already sensing where this was going. “Oh yes,” she grinned. “It was a growth solution. The shards expanded. The entire back half of the classroom is apparently a crystalline forest now.”

You choked on your drink. Earl Grey, despite his usual impassive demeanor, actually sighed. “Professor Mulberry must be exhausted.” “Oh, definitely,” Chai Latte agreed. “I mean, they tried to undo it, but apparently the magic stabilized too fast, so now it’s… permanent.” You buried your face in your hands. “No way.” “Oh, yes way.” She was practically vibrating with amusement now. “The Headmaster had to step in, and his solution was to just leave it there. Apparently, it looks ‘aesthetically pleasing’ and they don’t want to risk another alchemy accident trying to remove it.” “I give it three weeks before it’s declared a ‘historical landmark of academic perseverance,’” Hazelnut Biscotti muttered. You snorted. “Honestly, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing this Academy has immortalized.” “Exactly!” Chai Latte gestured wildly. “That’s why I love this place. Any other academy would call that a disaster. Here? It’s just Tuesday.” Hazelnut Biscotti sighed heavily. “Remind me why I still have hope for the future of academia?” “Because deep down, you love the chaos,” Chai Latte teased. “You pretend to be the responsible one, but I see you, Biscotti. I see the way you actually enjoy our nonsense.” He shot her a flat look. “I tolerate your nonsense.” “You enable it.” “She’s not wrong,” Earl Grey added, casually taking another sip of tea. Hazelnut Biscotti exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I should find new friends.” “No, you shouldn’t,” you said, nudging his arm with a grin. “You’d be miserable without us.” For all his grumbling, he didn’t argue. Chai Latte smirked, propping her chin in her hands. “See? This is why dinner is the best part of the day. Where else would you get quality entertainment and deep philosophical insights into the state of academia?” You chuckled, shaking your head. As much as you stressed over your studies, over the uncertainty of the future, moments like these made everything feel a little lighter. No matter what else happened, you had this this ridiculous, wonderful group of friends who made even the strangest days feel like home.

You leaned in slightly, a smirk tugging at your lips as you tapped your fingers against the table. “Alright, since we’re on the topic of unbelievable things, I have something, too.” Chai Latte Cookie perked up immediately, eyes sparkling with interest. “Oh? Do tell.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie arched a brow. “If this is about your last failed experiment” “It’s not,” you interjected quickly. “This one isn’t about me, thank you very much.” Earl Grey Cookie gestured lightly with his teacup. “Then by all means, enlighten us.” You glanced around conspiratorially, then lowered your voice. “So, I was cutting through the Academy gardens earlier today you know, taking the long way to clear my head-” “Procrastinating,” Hazelnut Biscotti muttered.

You ignored him. “when I saw something very interesting near the Moonvine Pavilion.” Chai Latte gasped. “Not the Moonvine Pavilion! You know everything that happens there is scandalous!” “Exactly,” you said, enjoying the dramatic effect. “So, I’m walking by, right? Just minding my own business. And then I see Professor Star Anise Cookie” Earl Grey blinked. “The Divination professor?” You nodded. “Yes, him. Mister ‘I Foresee All, Nothing Escapes My Gaze’ Star Anise Cookie.” You paused for effect, then leaned in closer. “Holding hands with Professor Frosted Clementine Cookie.” Chai Latte practically squealed, grabbing your arm. “WHAT?!” Hazelnut Biscotti’s spoon clattered against his saucer. “You must be mistaken.” “Oh, I am not mistaken,” you said, voice full of certainty. “They were standing real close, talking in hushed voices, and then clear as day he took her hand. And she blushed.” Earl Grey actually set his teacup down. “That… is unexpected.” “I know!” you said, grinning. “I always thought Professor Clementine was too icy for romance, but apparently-” “She’s been thawed,” Chai Latte finished dramatically. You cackled. “Exactly!” Hazelnut Biscotti groaned, rubbing his temples. “Stars above, why do we care about this?” “Because it’s deliciously interesting!” Chai Latte countered. “Think about it two esteemed professors, secret romance, destiny versus logic-” “Truly, a tale for the ages,” Earl Grey murmured, amused. Chai Latte turned back to you, grinning. “Okay, but what happened next? Did they notice you?”

You shook your head. “Nope. I stayed hidden behind the wisteria trellis.” Chai Latte gasped. “You spied?” “I observed.” “Same thing.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I didn’t stick around too long, but I swear, they were lingering. Like, full-on ‘I-have-more-to-say-but-should-I-say-it’ lingering.” Chai Latte fanned herself dramatically. “Oh, this is juicy. I need to know what happens next.” “We all need to know what happens next,” Earl Grey said. Hazelnut Biscotti sighed, shaking his head. “You all are ridiculous.” “And yet,” you teased, “you’re still here listening.” He scowled, but said nothing. Chai Latte grinned. “This is why dinner is essential.” She looked around the table. “Academics? Stressful. Life? Chaotic. But gossip? Gossip keeps us alive.” You laughed, shaking your head. As much as you worried about the future, about your studies, about everything, moments like this reminded you that some things friendship, laughter, and a little bit of intrigue made it all worth it.

Chai Latte Cookie turned toward you with a sly grin, resting her chin in her hands. “Sooo… since we’re already talking about romance in the academic world…” You froze mid-bite. “...What about it?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed, already sensing where this was going. “Chai.” “No, no, I have a valid question,” Chai Latte insisted, waving him off before turning her full attention back to you. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with the esteemed Sage of Truth lately.” Your stomach flipped. “That’s because he’s tutoring me.” “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” she teased. “Yes,” you deadpanned. Earl Grey Cookie smirked slightly over the rim of his teacup. “You do talk about him quite often.” “That’s because he’s my tutor,” you repeated, heat creeping up your neck. “And because I have to. It’s academic.” Chai Latte hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mmmhmm. But is it just academic?” You groaned. “Yes! What else would it be?” “Well, let’s think about it,” she mused, tapping her fingers against the table. “You spend hours together, he personally reviews your work, you get that look whenever you talk about him-” “What look?” you interjected defensively. Hazelnut Biscotti exhaled through his nose. “The one you’re making right now.” You covered your face with your hands. “I hate all of you.” Chai Latte cackled. “Oh, relax! I’m just saying, if you did develop a little scholar’s crush, it would be so poetic.”

“It would be pathetic,” you muttered. Earl Grey quirked a brow. “I don’t know. There’s a certain… tragic beauty in it. A scholar seeking wisdom from an untouchable figure, only to long for something far beyond mere knowledge.” Chai Latte gasped, clutching her heart. “Ohhh, that’s good. Forbidden academia love!” Hazelnut Biscotti groaned. “Don’t encourage them.” You shook your head aggressively. “No. Absolutely not. He’s a respected scholar, and I am…” You gestured vaguely. “Me.” “So?” Chai Latte shrugged. “All I’m saying is, you’re getting a lot of personal time with him, and if something were to happen-” “Nothing is happening,” you interrupted firmly. Chai Latte just smirked knowingly. “Mmmhmm.” You sighed, stabbing at your food with more force than necessary. “Can we talk about literally anything else?” “Oh, of course,” Chai Latte said sweetly, before shooting you one last teasing look. “But just so you know if you ever do need to talk about a certain someone, you can always confide in me.” You groaned again, but despite yourself, a tiny, conflicted part of you wondered If all good things must come to an end… would your time with him, too?

You leveled Chai Latte Cookie with the flattest stare you could muster. “I would be caught dead before anything like that happened.” Chai Latte giggled, undeterred. “Oh, would you now?” “Yes,” you said firmly. “And even if such a ridiculous thing were to happen, I wouldn’t tell you because I know you’d never let me live it down.” She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like you’d struck her. “Me? Tease you? I would never!” Earl Grey Cookie raised an eyebrow at her. “You absolutely would.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded in agreement. “Without hesitation.” Chai Latte huffed. “Okay, maybe a little hesitation.” Then she grinned at you. “But only because I’d need time to craft the perfect response.” You groaned. “And that is exactly why you’ll never hear a word from me.” Chai Latte pouted. “Aw, c’mon! You can’t really expect me to believe you’ve never thought about it, even just a little.” “Nope.” You popped another bite of food into your mouth and chewed, staring blankly ahead as if the conversation had ended. She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re a terrible liar.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, voice perfectly monotone. Chai Latte leaned in. “I will crack you, you know.” You met her gaze, unblinking. “No, you won’t.”

A challenge sparked in her eyes, but before she could escalate further, Hazelnut Biscotti cleared his throat. “As entertaining as this is, some of us would like to enjoy our meal without listening to Chai interrogate our friend like a suspect in a crime novel.” Earl Grey nodded. “Besides, we wouldn’t want them to actually drop dead just to avoid answering.” Chai Latte sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Fine, fine. I’ll drop it.” You exhaled in relief. Finally, some peace. Then she smirked. “But if I ever hear a whisper of something happening, just know I will have my moment.” You rolled your eyes. “Duly noted.” Even so, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny prickle of unease. Not because she was onto something because she wasn’t…Right? Earl Grey Cookie set down his fork with a sigh, running a hand through his neatly combed hair. “As much as I enjoy listening to Chai torment you, I have my own set of troubles to air.” You glanced at him, thankful for the change in topic. “Oh? What’s got you sighing like that?” He exhaled again, dramatically this time. “Professor Mulberry Bark assigned another impossibly long analysis on pre-Astral Convergence enchantment theory. Again.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie winced. “Didn’t he just assign something similar last week?” “Yes. And the week before that. I am convinced he enjoys watching us suffer.” Earl Grey shook his head. “If I have to analyze another obscure spell construct with a name that’s longer than my lifespan, I might actually collapse.” Chai Latte Cookie snickered. “Well, at least you know what to expect. That’s something, right?” Earl Grey shot her a tired look. “That’s precisely the problem.” You chuckled but tilted your head when you noticed him studying you for a moment, like he was debating something. “What?” you asked. Earl Grey hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “I heard something about you earlier.” Your stomach twisted slightly. “...Should I be concerned?” He shrugged. “Not really. Just thought you should know. There’s been a little talk about how you’ve been spending a lot of time with the Sage of Truth.” Your heart nearly stopped. “...Oh.” Chai Latte Cookie practically lit up. “Ohhh?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie frowned. “That’s not surprising. They’ve been struggling in class. The Sage is their tutor. That’s normal.”

Earl Grey nodded. “Right, but, you know how the academy is. If you see a student spending too much time with a high-ranking scholar, people start making assumptions.” You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Let me guess someone thinks I’m dating him?” Chai Latte gasped. “Are you?” “No!” Hazelnut Biscotti gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “Don’t let it bother you. You know how people love to speculate about things that have nothing to do with them.” Earl Grey hummed. “Agreed. Just figured I’d give you a heads-up. It’s nothing serious, but it’s always better to be aware.” You sighed, slumping back in your chair. “Great. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with.” Chai Latte leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Well, if you ever do want to confirm or deny anything to the masses, I’d be happy to act as your spokesperson.” You shot her a glare. “I would rather let the rumors consume me whole.” She giggled. “Fair enough.”

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossed as you mulled over Earl Grey Cookie’s words. Try as you might to brush it off, the thought itched at you. It was one thing for idle rumors to float around, but another entirely if people were actually taking note of you specifically. You leaned forward, lowering your voice just slightly. “Do they know who I am?” Earl Grey Cookie regarded you carefully before answering. “Not exactly.” You tensed. “What do you mean, not exactly?” He took a slow sip of his tea, as if weighing his words. “No one’s mentioned your name outright not that I’ve heard, anyway. But people have noticed you.” Chai Latte Cookie’s ears practically perked up. “Ohhh? So they’re talking about the Sage of Truth’s mysterious pupil rather than our dear friend?” You groaned. “That’s not better.” Earl Grey chuckled. “It means you still have some anonymity. But if you keep showing up with him, that might not last long.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie offered you a reassuring nod. “It’ll pass. The academy cycles through rumors like the seasons. By next week, they’ll be onto some other scandal about some other student.” Chai Latte Cookie wiggled her eyebrows. “Unless something happens that fuels the intrigue.” You shot her a warning glare. “You are not helping.” She grinned. “I know.” Still, you couldn’t shake the unease settling in your chest. The academy was full of whispers, and if you were becoming the subject of them… well. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. You frowned, still turning it over in your head. “But how would they even know?” you asked, skeptical. “The Scholar’s Wing is only for the best of the best. Everyone there is too busy with their studies to care about me.” Earl Grey Cookie gave you a knowing look. “You do realize that scholars gossip just as much as anyone else, right?” You blinked. “...No, they don’t.” Chai Latte Cookie snickered. “Oh, sweet, naive you.” She leaned in, resting her chin in her palm. “You think just because they’re studying complex theories and groundbreaking spells that they don’t have the time to notice a new face trailing after the Sage of Truth?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded in agreement. “It’s a closed circle up there. Any change, no matter how small, is bound to be noticed.”

Your stomach twisted slightly. It wasn’t like you had expected to go completely unnoticed, but you hadn’t thought you’d stand out enough to be talked about. You had assumed you were nothing more than a passing presence just another struggling student seeking guidance. “So what exactly are they saying?” you asked, dreading the answer. Earl Grey took another slow sip of tea before replying, “Mostly just curiosity. Some are wondering why the Sage of Truth took on a student at all.” You shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not like that. He’s just helping me with my studies.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked. “Oh, we know that. But they don’t.” You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. This was the last thing you needed being a subject of curiosity among the scholars of the academy. It was hard enough trying to keep up with your studies without the weight of expectations or scrutiny. “Great,” you muttered. “Just what I needed. More reasons to embarrass myself.” Earl Grey Cookie gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “At least it’s just talk. Nothing malicious.” “Yet,” Chai Latte Cookie added with a playful grin. You shot her a glare. “Not helping.” She winked. “I know.” You knew she meant well attempting to lighten your mood.

Dinner had ended with laughter, the warm kind that settled in your chest and reminded you why you treasured these moments. No matter how exhausting the day had been, sitting among friends, sharing stories and teasing jabs, made the weight on your shoulders feel a little lighter. Even with Earl Grey’s quiet reminders of your newfound attention among the scholars, even with Chai Latte’s relentless teasing, even with the lingering ache of your tutoring session tonight, it had all felt manageable. For a little while, at least.

But now, alone in your dorm, the silence pressed in. You shut the door behind you, exhaling softly as you leaned against it. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of your enchanted study lamp casting long shadows over your desk. Your books sat in neat stacks where you’d left them that morning, your notes still open from the frantic reviewing you’d done before class. It was strange walking back in after everything that had happened today, as if stepping into a space untouched by time. Like you had changed, but your room had stayed the same. You crossed the room and sat on the edge of your bed, rubbing your hands over your face. You had asked Shadow Milk Cookie if, after all this, you’d still be allowed a fraction of his time. Even now, the question sat heavy in your chest, the weight of it something you weren’t ready to unpack. Because the truth was You didn’t want this to end. You should. It was just tutoring. Just guidance. And eventually, you’d get better. You were getting better. You were fixing mistakes faster, answering questions with more confidence. And once you had proven you could stand on your own, you wouldn’t have any reason to sit across from him in his office, feeling the steady rhythm of his voice guiding you through your work. You swallowed, running a hand through your hair. For all the exhaustion, all the frustration, all the times you had felt like you weren’t good enough, there was something about his presence that settled you. He was direct, sometimes painfully so, but there was never malice behind his words. No mockery. No disappointment. Just… expectation. And when he expected something from you, it made you want to rise to meet it. What would it feel like when that was gone? You frowned, lying back against your pillow and staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t as if you had some grand claim to his time. He was a scholar of the highest caliber, someone who spent his days immersed in pursuits far beyond your reach. Eventually, he would move on to the next great pursuit, and you…You’d go back to being just another student at Blueberry Yogurt Academy. The thought left a strange hollowness in your chest. You shut your eyes and let out a slow breath. For now, at least, it wasn’t over yet. There were still problems to solve, still concepts to master. And as long as you still had those to cling to, you had a reason to be there to see him. You just wished it didn’t feel like something you’d have to let go of too soon.

Morning came far too quickly, the night passing in what felt like mere moments. You had tossed and turned more than you’d like to admit, thoughts looping endlessly in your head, yet somehow, the sunrise still managed to sneak up on you. Still, routine was routine. You got up, dressed, and made your way to breakfast, finding comfort in the familiar sounds of the dining hall the clatter of plates, the hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from a particularly lively table. Your friends were already gathered in your usual spot, Chai Latte waving you over before launching into another enthusiastic recounting of last night’s gossip. You let the conversation wash over you, contributing here and there, but your mind was already half elsewhere. Lecture passed in its usual blur taking notes, trying to keep up, nodding along even when you weren’t sure if you fully grasped what was being said. But today, there was no office hours afterward. No quiet moment in Professor Almond Custard’s study. Today was a lab day. It wasn’t that lab worried you, exactly. It was necessary, practical, the kind of work that let you take theory and make it tangible. But something about it always felt daunting as if the moment you stepped into that room, everything you thought you understood would be tested under an unflinching lens. Mistakes were easy to make, and unlike a homework assignment where you could take your time correcting them, here, they were immediate. Unforgiving. Still, you steeled yourself as you made your way to the lab, tucking your notes under your arm. It would be fine. It had to be. At least there was something to look forward to after.

The laboratory was already buzzing with activity by the time you arrived, the steady hum of voices mixing with the occasional clang of glassware and the flickering glow of enchanted burners. The air carried the faint scent of alchemical reagents earthy, metallic, with an underlying sharpness that hinted at something volatile. At your shared workstation, Chai Latte Cookie was already setting up, adjusting the height of a distillation apparatus while glancing over the day’s experiment guidelines. She looked up when you approached, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. “Well, well, look who finally decided to join me in our noble pursuit of scientific progress,” she teased, flicking a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I was beginning to think you were going to ditch me.” You rolled your eyes as you set down your materials. “You’ve been here for, what, five minutes?” “Five minutes alone, which is practically an eternity when there’s no one to complain to about this absolute mess of instructions,” she sighed, tapping the alchemical guide on the table. “I swear, do they try to make these as convoluted as possible?” You pulled your copy of the instructions closer, skimming the details of today’s experiment. A multi-step reaction sequence designed to test your ability to control magical yields if done correctly, it would produce a shimmering, stable potion infused with starlight essence. If done incorrectly… well, you didn’t want to think about that. “It’s not that bad,” you said, though your confidence wavered as you tried to make sense of the notations. “We just have to be careful with the reagent additions. One mistake and the whole thing destabilizes.” “Right, no pressure at all,” Chai Latte muttered, pulling on her gloves. “Okay, genius, where do we start?” You took a breath, rolling up your sleeves. “Let’s take it one step at a time.” Despite the initial nerves, there was something grounding about working in tandem with her. The two of you had fallen into a familiar rhythm over the semesters passing instruments back and forth without needing to ask, watching each other’s work to catch any potential mistakes before they became disasters.

You and Chai Latte Cookie worked in quiet concentration, the only sounds between you being the measured clink of glassware and the soft bubbling of the mixture as it reacted to each new addition. The instructions required careful precision one misstep, and the starlight essence could either dissipate entirely or, worse, cause an unstable chain reaction.

Chai Latte handled the base mixture, combining the ethereal dew and powdered astralite while you carefully calibrated the enchanted heat rune beneath the flask. The potion had to remain within an exact temperature range for the essence to bind properly too hot, and the components would burn off; too cold, and they would crystallize before infusion.

“Alright, heat’s stable,” you murmured, adjusting the rune’s glow to maintain the proper balance. “How’s the solution looking?” Chai Latte squinted at the swirling liquid in the flask, giving it a slow stir. “I think it’s at the right consistency it’s got that whole ‘liquid moonlight’ vibe going on.” She stepped back slightly and gestured at the next reagent. “Your turn. Time to add the starlight essence.” You nodded, taking the small vial of softly glowing liquid in hand. According to the instructions, the essence had to be introduced in an incremental spiral pattern a slow, deliberate movement that would ensure even diffusion throughout the solution. Lifting the dropper, you steadied yourself, exhaling before carefully letting the essence fall into the potion in a spiraling motion. As the shimmering liquid made contact, the mixture pulsed with a faint, otherworldly glow. Chai Latte whistled. “Okay, that looks really cool.” You didn’t respond immediately, too focused on ensuring the reaction stabilized. A few more careful additions, a few more slow stirs, and then, finally, the glow settled into a deep, mesmerizing blue with flickers of silver threading through it like tiny stars suspended in liquid. Chai Latte leaned in, inspecting it closely. “I think we did it.” You studied the potion as well, double-checking the indicators from your notes. “Yeah… that looks right. No weird discoloration, no sudden temperature spikes…” You allowed yourself a breath of relief. “We actually pulled it off.”

Chai Latte grinned, nudging you lightly with her elbow. “See? Maybe all that tutoring is finally starting to pay off.” You gave her a halfhearted glare, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Or maybe we’re just a good team.” “Obviously,” she said smugly, crossing her arms. “Now let’s just hope we don’t jinx ourselves. We still have to get it approved.” Right. The professor would be coming around soon to check everyone’s results. You took a final look at your work, double-checking for any overlooked mistakes. With the experiment successfully completed and approved, you packed up your station, cleaning up any stray residue while Chai Latte Cookie hummed to herself. By the time everything was put away, the weight of responsibility lifted ever so slightly. “Alright, that’s that,” Chai Latte announced, stretching her arms above her head. “And we’re free until our next class. Or, in your case, free until tutoring.” She shot you a knowing look. You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I know.” She grinned, leaning against the lab bench. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna go grab a snack before you spend the rest of your afternoon basking in the wisdom of The Sage of Truth?” Her voice took on an exaggerated, reverent tone. You gave her a dry look. “I was just thinking of walking around for a bit.” Chai Latte raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. By yourself?” “…Yes?” She huffed dramatically. “Fine, be mysterious. But don’t think I haven’t noticed how much time you’ve been spending in the Scholars’ Wing lately.” Your stomach twisted slightly, though you tried not to show it. “It’s tutoring,” you reminded her. “Tutoring,” she echoed, smirking. “Right, right. Well, don’t work yourself to death. I’ll see you at dinner later?” You nodded, and with a wave, Chai Latte Cookie disappeared down the hallway, leaving you standing in the now-empty lab. With still nearly an hour before your tutoring session, you had time to breathe, to wander. The idea of heading straight to the Scholars’ Wing so early felt… too much. Instead, you found yourself walking toward the academy gardens. The crisp afternoon air met you as you stepped outside, the scent of enchanted flora and old stone pathways filling your lungs. Your feet carried you forward on instinct, weaving through the familiar paths of the gardens, past the towering moonlit trees and the delicate, glimmering flowers that thrived under the academy’s protective enchantments. The place was quieter at this hour, most students still busy with their classes.

You let your mind wander. You had improved. That was undeniable. Shadow Milk Cookie had acknowledged as much himself. And yet, the closer you got to mastering your coursework, the more uneasy you felt. Because once you did what then? Would this all just… end? Would he simply nod, satisfied, and send you on your way? And then what? You’d go back to struggling through everything on your own? The thought of it left an odd hollowness in your chest. You sighed, rubbing your temples before shaking your head. You were overthinking again. For now, you still had today. You still had tutoring. You still had time. With that thought grounding you, you turned and began making your way toward the Scholars’ Wing. You hesitated at the doorway, one hand lightly gripping the frame as you took in the scene before you. The door to Shadow Milk Cookie’s office was slightly ajar, just enough for you to hear the unmistakable cadence of his voice measured, rich with knowledge, yet tinged with something… lighter. Amusement? You couldn’t make out every word, but the conversation was fluid, the way one spoke when deeply engaged in an exchange of ideas. He wasn’t alone. Another scholar, most likely. Someone of his caliber. Someone who belonged in this space. You shouldn’t feel so strange about it. And yet, you found yourself rooted to the spot, fingers tightening against the wood of the doorframe. You had always known, of course you had that he was a renowned scholar, well-respected, well-sought after. He didn’t just make time for you. Still, you’d never walked in on him mid-conversation before. You weren’t sure why that bothered you. The question now was whether you should make your presence known or wait. Logic told you it wasn’t a difficult decision. It wasn’t as if you were interrupting anything truly private. You had a scheduled session, after all. If he was too busy, he’d tell you. And yet, another part of you…the part that still struggled with being here, in his space, in his world hesitated. Would it be better to wait? To not intrude? You swallowed, debating your next move. You took a breath, steadied yourself, and knocked lightly against the door. The conversation inside paused for only a moment before Shadow Milk Cookie’s voice rang out, steady as ever. “Enter.” You pushed the door open, stepping inside. The atmosphere of the room shifted slightly not in a way that was obvious or outwardly hostile, but in a way that made you hyper-aware of your presence. Seated in the office, gathered around the central desk, were three other scholars. Two women and one man, all poised with an air of effortless intellect. Their robes were neatly arranged, their notes methodically placed before them. They belonged in this room, in this world of academia, their presence natural expected. And then there was you. Your gaze flickered between them briefly before settling on Shadow Milk Cookie. He remained as composed as ever, but you couldn’t ignore the way the three scholars regarded him. Their eyes, bright with admiration, held something deeper, something lingering beneath the surface adoration. It wasn’t surprising. Who wouldn’t look at him that way? You shifted your weight, suddenly feeling out of place. This wasn’t your space. You were just a struggling student, given the privilege of his time through necessity, not merit. “Ah,” Shadow Milk Cookie said, closing the tome in front of him. “Right on time.” That pulled you from your thoughts. You hesitated, then nodded, gripping your notebook a little tighter. “I yeah. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The man among the three scholars tilted his head, eyes flickering over you in quiet assessment. “A student of yours, Sage of Truth?”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. “Not quite,” Shadow Milk Cookie answered smoothly. “But an eager learner nonetheless.” You weren’t sure why, but that phrasing stung just a little. One of the women smiled, though there was something unreadable in her gaze. “How fortunate to receive such direct guidance.” You gave a small nod, unsure of what to say. Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you briefly before gesturing to the side of the room. “Take a seat. I will conclude here shortly.” You obeyed, moving to the seat he had indicated, but even as you sat down, the sense of displacement remained. They resumed their conversation something about magical theorem applications but your mind was elsewhere, thoughts caught on the undeniable truth. You were not like them. And maybe you never would be. As the three scholars rose from their seats, they exchanged their final words with Shadow Milk Cookie, their voices carrying a warmth that felt both familiar and distant. “Until next time, Sage,” one of the women said, her fingers ghosting over the edge of his desk before she stepped away. The other woman offered a gentle smile, her eyes lingering just a second too long. “Conversations with you are always illuminating.” The man gave a slow nod, expression composed but reverent. “Your insights remain unparalleled.” Then, with a final exchange of glances ones that seemed to hold something unspoken as they departed. You hadn’t meant to watch them so closely, but there was something in the way they carried themselves that you couldn’t ignore. Something in the way their voices softened when they spoke to him, in the way their gazes lingered just a breath longer than necessary. You shifted uncomfortably, staring at the door they had left through before glancing back at Shadow Milk Cookie. You had only caught fragments of their discussion snippets of terminology and references to studies far beyond your grasp. It had been like listening to a language you had only just begun to learn, the meaning slipping past you before you could latch onto anything concrete.

Still, what unsettled you wasn’t the academic distance between you and them. It was the way they looked at him. And the quiet realization that he was always surrounded by people like that. People who understood him. You hesitated before speaking, trying to keep your voice neutral. “…Were those your friends?” Shadow Milk Cookie, who had been straightening his desk, paused only briefly before resuming. “Colleagues.” The word was delivered so smoothly that it almost seemed rehearsed. You frowned slightly. “So, not friends?” He regarded you for a moment before answering. “Friendship, in academic circles, is often secondary to the pursuit of knowledge.” That was… not exactly an answer. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but something about his response sat strangely with you. Something about the way he had said it, as if dismissing the notion entirely. “…I see,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. You swallowed, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I… really saw how much they admire you,” you said, keeping your voice light, as if it was just an idle observation. Shadow Milk Cookie looked at you with mild curiosity, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue. You let out a small breath, averting your gaze slightly. “They just… seemed so comfortable talking to you. Like they already knew exactly what you meant before you even finished a sentence.” There was something strange in the way those scholars had interacted with him and how naturally they seemed to fit into his world. You weren’t sure why it lingered in your mind so much, but the feeling sat heavy in your chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome. “I guess I just…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I don’t know why I feel this way, but… it kind of made me wonder if I’ll ever be able to understand you like that.” It was an uncomfortable thought; one you hadn’t fully grasped until you said it out loud. You had been learning, studying harder than ever, and yet somehow, today had made you feel like an outsider again. Like there was an invisible wall between you and him, between you and the world he truly belonged to. Shadow Milk Cookie was silent for a moment, his golden eyes steady as they regarded you. He didn’t immediately dismiss your feelings, nor did he rush to correct them. Then, with a measured tone, he finally spoke. “There are many paths to understanding,” he said. “Not all must be the same.” You met his gaze again, and though his expression remained composed, there was something deliberate in his words as if he was choosing them with care. He was not denying the gap that existed between you, nor was he pretending it wasn’t there. “I guess… I hadn’t thought about it like that,” you admitted. “But sometimes, it feels like no matter how much effort I put in, I’ll always be behind. Like I’m chasing after something I can’t quite grasp.” Shadow Milk Cookie considered this, his expression unreadable. “A scholar’s journey is not a race,” he said. “Nor is it a simple ascent. There will always be others who stand at different points along the path some ahead, some behind. But progress is not measured by where you stand in relation to them.”

You frowned slightly, tapping your fingers against the desk. “That makes sense, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s still a gap.” He nodded. “No, it does not. But gaps are meant to be bridged, not feared.” Something about the way he said it made you pause. He spoke as if the answer was so simple, so obvious like it wasn’t a question of whether you could catch up, but when. The thought settled strangely in your chest, a mixture of comfort and something you couldn’t quite name. You glanced down at your notes. The hesitation from earlier still lingered, but it no longer weighed as heavily as before. “I… guess I’ll just have to keep going, then.” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head slightly. “Was there ever any doubt?” You let out a quiet huff, shaking your head. “I don’t know. Maybe a little.” His lips quirked just slightly, an almost-smile, before he gestured toward your notebook. “Then let us ensure your doubts do not linger.” And just like that, the moment passed, leaving you with something new not quite confidence, but something close enough.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly in your seat before sliding your notebook toward him. “Anyway,” you said, trying to sound casual, “I finished the assignment for Professor Almond Custard’s class. I think I did well on it.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flickered to the notebook, and he reached for it with his usual practiced ease. You watched as he scanned through your work, his expression remaining unreadable as his fingers ghosted over the lines of your calculations and explanations. You told yourself you weren’t waiting for his reaction but you were. A part of you hoped, maybe even expected, that this time, he’d simply nod in approval and move on. That he’d confirm what you were feeling that you had done well, that you had finally gotten it right. Shadow Milk Cookie turned the pages with practiced ease, his golden eyes scanning your work with a meticulous gaze. You tried to sit still, to keep yourself from fidgeting under the weight of his silence, but every second that passed made it harder. Then, finally, he set the notebook down and looked at you. “…Well done.” You blinked. “Wait, really?” He nodded once, fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the desk. “Your reasoning is clear, your calculations correct. The structure of your argument is sound. This is a marked improvement.” For a moment, you just stared at him, half-expecting some kind of ‘but’ to follow. When none came, a rush of relief, no, pride bloomed in your chest. “I actually got everything right?”

“Indeed.” You exhaled, barely resisting the urge to sag against the desk. “Finally.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with something almost amused. “Did you expect otherwise?” “Honestly?” You huffed a small laugh. “Yeah.” His expression softened, just a little. “Doubt is natural. But in this instance, unnecessary.” He tapped the notebook again, deliberate. “You are capable. This work is proof of that.” It wasn’t an elaborate speech, nor was it overly sentimental but coming from him, it meant everything. You let out a breath, rolling your shoulders back. “I’ll take that as high praise.” “It is.” Your chest felt lighter than it had all day. You beamed brightly, laughter spilling from your lips pure, unrestrained, the kind that came from deep within your soul. Just knowing you had finally done something great, something without the need for corrections, overwhelmed your senses in the best way possible. “I can’t believe it,” you admitted between quiet chuckles, shaking your head as if that would make the moment feel more real. “No mistakes? Not even one?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips curved ever so slightly. “Had there been, I would have pointed them out.” You grinned, still riding the high of accomplishment. “Wow… I actually did it.” For the first time, you weren’t scrambling to make last-minute fixes, weren’t leaving his office weighed down by another list of errors to correct. It was strange, in a way like standing at the peak of a mountain you had been climbing for so long, unable to believe you had finally made it. Shadow Milk Cookie watched you, his gaze steady. “This is the result of your perseverance. Do not diminish it with disbelief.”

You paused, taking in his words. He was right. You had worked for this. You had earned it. You straightened, exhaling a breath that carried away the lingering doubt. “Then I’ll just say… thank you.” He inclined his head slightly. “No thanks are necessary. You have proven yourself through effort alone.” Still, you smiled, warmth filling your chest.

A/N no update tomorrow I won't have time to finish the chapter, but it'll be started and then finished+editing by hopefully Wednesday latest Thursday you might be asking yourself "Odile how do you get these chapters out so fast?" The simple answer: I'm hyper-fixated...+ It...'s break week and it was raining all day...My friends and I had to call it a day early cause it was pouring...so it gave me time to use the rest of my day to write and cook a good dinner etc...

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

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[romanarose]

What: An event to highlight disability visibility in the Pedro Pascal and Oscar isaac fandom! Writings or art MUST include some disability. In the header, I have chosen 4 characters with canon disabilities, but you can write for anyone! For examples:

Marcus Acacius losing eyesight Llewyn with a reader with a reader with epilepsy Javier Pena x Steven Murphy and Steve has cancer

Fics and art can be NSFW, friends, romantic, canon characters only, x reader, solo fics, ETC. If you want to explore a bonus chapter within a series you already wrote, that works, but,

MUST BE NEW CONTENT!

Who: Anyone who wants to make art or write a fic!

Where: Tumblr, but if you want to post on ao3 and send a link that works!

When: Through the month of April!

Why: It's important for all of us to look at the beautiful diversity of this fandom! There have been many discussions around race and gender/sexuality biases especially in the PPCU recently, and I want to not derail, but rather add to this conversation.

Rules: I'll try to keep it simple

Not a dead dove event: While dark content can be discussed or shown and I am not a dark hater, please no dead dove, non con etc. Not for this event.

Minor characters are allowed, but obviously no NSFW minors. You want to have Marc and reader in their teens, thats fine! but not smut.

No minors!: I am aware I cannot stop nor do I wish to stop minors from reading, but interacting with this event is strictly 18+

Non-disabled people can write, and disabled folk can write for disabilities they do not have, but do research: Reach out to friends who have a disability you want to write about. Watch youtube videos. Read book and blog posts. I'll link some resources at the bottom!

TRY not to fall into trope or harmful traps. Again, I'll link tropes in the bottom, try our best!

Try to end light. This is about the beauty of diversity. Like with my pride event, I'm not naive to hardships the disability community faces and we can explore that, but lets not let that be the main focus.

Readmore: Use the READMORE option! I'll reblog all fics but ONLY if theres a readmore

Add alt text to any pictures. I have literally done this maybe twice and that's my fault. it takes a minute, I have no excuses, but its very important for people who use aids online.

And this isn't a rule but a few notes. try to avoid the inspiration porn shit. If you don't know what it is, look it up and if you're still not clear you can ask me! Also, I recognize major depressive disorder , PTSD, anxiety ETC can be disabilities, these are things that are depicted a fair amount in fics already. If you choose to write to draw with these disabilities, that is okay! I'm still more than happy to include your work! I just want to gently encourage people to think of other disabilites we can try to include so others feel welcomed!

And as always with my events, I want to encourage you to think beyond the standard x fem reader. It's all wonderful and beautiful, but if you wanted to write reflecting your experience as a black disabled woman or a trans disabled man or writing about Santi's experience being queer and disabled I WOULD LOVE TO SEE IT ALL!!

Events tend to not have a lot of art, so I'd really love to see artists participate too!

HOW: SEND ME THE LINK ASKS OR DMS! asks in preferred so I can keep track. Do to internet safety, I wont look at anonymous links. If you have to be on anon bc you use a sideblog (looking at you, Haru!) then tag me in your fic or post, I'll open up a dm with you on that blog and you can send it there. I''ve had issues in the past trying to keep things organized so this is best for me! Everything will be reblogged, and then put into a masterlist!

I will be posting the masterlist on my new blog, @cosmic-kid-in-motion. I wanted to start the event here where I actually have followers, but the final product will be on my new blog, transferring things over.

I am so excited to see what you all come up with!!!!

Disability Visibility Project: An online page talking about disability issues. The sight is ran by Ali Wong. She also has a book of essays from different people called Disability Visibility, I HIGHLY REC. We read this book and used this site heavility in my intro to disability class, its why I named the event this!

Ableist tropes in media

Youtuber who is a friend of mine, Andy

Deaf awareness by same youtuber

Another youtuber I like

Disabled palistinian comedian

If anyone has other links they recommend im all ears!

I also open for any questions, and if any other disabled tumblrinas wanna open up for questions, comment below! You totally dont have to, but a wider range is always great! I have a few physical and mental disabilites and like I mentioned, I took a class. Im also good friends with the tuber i linked above and he's done a lot of disability advocacy and I've learned a lot from him, So I feel confident but if theres another I dont know I'll open it up! Any input or ideas are welcome!!!

Im so excited to see what everyone comes up with!

[whosyourmommy69]

Broken promises Pt1

You’re sitting on the couch, your fingers nervously twisting the hem of your shirt as you glance at the clock. It’s past midnight. Rafe was supposed to be here hours ago.

You’d texted him twice, called once, and there’s been nothing but silence. Your stomach churns, the familiar feeling of disappointment sinking deeper into your chest.

It’s been like this for a while now. Every time you think things might be turning around, every time he seems like he’s showing you a glimpse of the guy you used to know, he slips back into old habits. The late nights. The excuses. The friends that always seem to pull him away at the last minute, and the drugs that keep him distant, unreachable.

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, pulling you from your thoughts. You reach for it, hoping, praying that it’s him.

But it’s a text from your friend, asking if you’re okay.

You sigh and drop the phone back onto the table. You're tired of pretending everything is fine. You’re tired of hoping things will change.

You’re not even sure when you started losing yourself in this relationship, but you feel it now. Like a slow erosion of who you were before him. You were strong, independent. But now? You don’t even recognize the reflection in the mirror anymore.

You stand up, pacing the room, trying to shake the tension out of your body. You don’t want to be the girlfriend who constantly nags or questions his actions. You’ve tried to play it cool, let him do his thing, trust him, believe him when he says he’ll be there for you.

But deep down, you know it’s just words. Always just words.

The door creaks open, and your heart skips a beat. It’s Rafe, finally stumbling through the door with a look on his face that’s half irritation, half apology. His eyes are bloodshot, his movements sloppy, like he’s not quite sure where he’s been or how he got here.

"Hey," he says, his voice a little too casual for your liking, like he hasn’t just kept you waiting for hours, wondering if something had happened to him. "Sorry, I lost track of time."

You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed over your chest. "Track of time? Rafe, it's almost 1 AM. You didn’t even bother to answer my calls."

He shrugs, tossing his jacket onto the chair as he walks past you toward the kitchen. "I was with the guys. You know how it is. We were just—" He pauses, running a hand through his messy hair. "We were just hanging out."

You can smell it now, the weed, which always meant something more. That familiar, sharp scent of something that always makes your stomach tighten with anxiety. Your mind races. How many times has he done this? How many times has he chosen them, his friends, his habits over you?

You feel your heart sink even lower. "And you couldn’t even send a text? You couldn’t just let me know you were okay? I was sitting here, Rafe, thinking something happened to you."

His face tightens at your words, but he doesn’t look at you, digging through the fridge like he hasn’t just shattered your trust all over again. "I didn’t think you’d care that much."

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and cold. It’s not just the fact that he’s late, or that he’s high again. It’s the way he makes you feel like you’re the problem. Like your feelings don’t matter. Like everything else comes first.

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it’s no use. "Are you serious right now?" you ask, your voice shaky. "You didn’t think I’d care? You’ve been blowing me off for weeks now. Every time I need you, you’re with them. Or you’re high. Or you’re somewhere else."

Rafe spins around, his expression shifting. The familiar anger starts to creep into his voice. "Don’t start with me, okay? I’m just trying to have some fun. It’s not like you care anyway."

You flinch, the words stinging more than you expected. "That’s not fair, Rafe. I care too much, and that’s the problem."

He rolls his eyes and turns back to the fridge, popping open a can of beer. "God, here we go again. You’re acting like I’m doing something wrong just because I want to hang out with my friends. Get over yourself."

Your breath catches in your throat, the frustration bubbling over. "You know what? Fine," you snap, voice rising. "Maybe I should get over myself. Maybe I should stop caring about someone who doesn’t give a damn about me."

He slams the fridge door shut and turns to face you, his expression darkening. "Don’t pull that shit with me. You think you can just walk away every time you get upset? You think you can just—" He takes a step toward you, his voice escalating. "—control me? Because you can’t."

You’re frozen for a moment, every muscle in your body tightening with that all-too-familiar fear. You want to fight. You want to scream at him. But the words get caught in your throat, trapped by the weight of everything, all the times he’s let you down. All the promises he’s broken.

Instead, you just stand there, unable to breathe, staring at the man you thought you knew. The man who used to make you feel safe and loved, but now, all he makes you feel is insignificant.

"I can’t keep doing this," you whisper, the words so quiet they barely make it past your lips. But they’re enough. "I can’t keep chasing you, Rafe. I’m not going to be here every time you decide to show up when you feel like it."

Rafe stares at you for a long moment, something dark flashing in his eyes. Then, with a bitter laugh, he shakes his head. "Whatever. If you can’t handle it, then leave."

You open your mouth to respond, but the words die in your throat. Because you realize, as much as you want to stand your ground, you’re terrified. Terrified that he’ll push you away, terrified that he won’t care when you finally walk out that door.

You don’t say anything. You can’t. So instead, you just turn away and walk to the door, the sound of his laughter following you as you step out into the cold, your heart shattered all over again.

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

(I love the implication that no one knows or recognizes the name Danny Fenton. The implications are wonderful)

Jasmine Fenton didn’t legally exist.

Such was the result of growing up inside of a death cult. Homeschooling, mad scientist parents, and legally being non-existent.

She wasn’t allowed to leave the house. There were locks on the door preventing Jazz from leaving.

There were times growing up that Jazz would ask to leave. She wanted to know what sunshine felt like on her skin, what birds sounded like, what

Her parents loved her, but she had come to understand that they were problematic in many ways. They were obsessive, neglectful, and keeping your children locked in the basement where no one knew they existed was fairly… negative behavior.

There wasn’t much she could do about it. She didn’t have internet access where she could report things to the police. She didn’t have anyone to talk to other than her parents, or sometimes the ghosts they kidnapped.

She couldn’t even do anything when Danny died. They took his corpse away to a different part of the lab.

But about a year after his death, she overheard her parents talking about how Danny’s body went missing. They blamed ghosts, of course they did.

Sometimes, Jazz wished the ghosts would take her away too.

Hopefully, someday soon, Jazz would be free.

/-\-/-\

There were more people here than there should have been, Sam noticed.

When Bruce Wayne announced he was flying in to meet his dead son, Sam expected two people to come. She didn’t expect five.

Barbara Gordon was a wheelchair-bound redhead. Sam didn’t trust the way that she stared at everything.

Zatanna Zatara was Barbara’s girlfriend. Sam recognized the name of the famous magician. Zatanna was done up in a fancy outfit, and a fine layer of makeup like the most poplar members of Sam’s class. She recognized tbe band on Sam’s shirt, which made her somewhat cool.

Jason Todd was the half-dead son of Bruce Wayne. Sam vibed with him best. He was chill.

Then there was Damian Wayne, an uptight prick of a child who insisted on meeting his sibling. Sam thought he’d be dissapointed. Hopefully Bruce Wayne explained to his kids that Danny was dead before coming.

Then there was Bruce Wayne himself, a celebrity Sam was indifferent to. She found his obliviousness annoying, but she appreciated that he donated quite a bit to ecological restoration projects. Sam also had seen the man at galas, where he’d help her sneak away from the crowds and towards quiet and shadowy places where she could sneak all the desserts she wanted.

Still, they deserved to see the grave. Sam led the group to her private garden, on the edge of the property.

“I don’t want you messing with the grave.” Sam asserted. “He deserves to not be prodded, and it’s already going to be a lot of work to replace the plants he was buried under.” She leads the group to a small garden. Dark roses block the area from trespassers, only one bush having been trampled. There’s a stone pathway leading up to it. A dwarf cherry tree stands above the grave, clover and bugloss mixed in a wild gradient as shade made way to sun.

In the very center of the garden was Danny’s headstone, a decorative marker without a name.

“Phantom didn’t know his name yet when I made the carving. I’m working on a new one,” explained Sam.

“How did he-“

Sam cut off Bruce Wayne. “Dude, no. That’s the rudest thing to say to a ghost. If he wants to tell you, he will. He probably won’t say. He hasn’t told me, and we’ve been friends for a year now.”

“He could’ve been murdered. The killer could still be out there. Surely he’d want justice?” Bruce said.

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant. Phantoms body partially came in jars. He took it from a GIW base.”

“This town is haunted, right? When is Danny coming?”

Sam shrugged. In truth, Danny was watching invisibly.

Damian was staring at the grave, silently contemplating something. How young was too young to contemplate the reality of death? Sam had gotten started around eight, the beginning of her goth phase that only grew stronger. This was probably fine.

Bruce Wayne was also watching in silent contemplation. He was probably feeling guilty. Sam had also felt guilt after meeting Danny. There logically wasn’t anything she could do- she didn’t meet Phantom until he was a ghost- but she still wished she could’ve met him while he was alive.

Sam plucked out the dandelions that had started growing between the lilies. If you didn’t weed out the dandelions, you’d have a garden of just dandelions and nothing else. She saved them for compost.

They needed to meet Phantom. Danny wouldn’t show himself until he knew it was safe. Sam decided to speed things along.

“What are your thoughts on ghosts, mister Wayne?”

“Hello, Mr. Wayne. I’m calling on behalf of the Amity Park police department. I… god, there’s no easy way to say this. We found a dead body, and genetic tests identified you as the next of kin.”

A mixture of icy fear and confusion pooled in Bruce’s chest, and he felt himself lean against a wall for support. “What? Who? But, Damian was just here!”

“Don’t worry, it’s not him.”

“He’s the only blood relative I have.”

The officer sighed. “I dunno what to tell you. We don’t know. Kid was dead for months before we dug ‘im up, so identifying any other details towards his previous identity has been… difficult. Doesn’t even match any missing persons reports. Quite frankly, we were hoping you’d know something, ‘cause we’ve been coming up blank.”

“I will,” Bruce rushed out unthinkingly, his mind still caught up on the word ‘kid’.

“What?”

“I’ll help however I can. Amity Park, you said? Where is that? I’ll book a flight right away."

“No, really, sir. I appreciate it, but you don’t need to do that. No offense, Mr Wayne, but you’re not a forensic analyst.”

The words ‘yes I am’ balanced on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. Batman was the detective, not Brucie Wayne. But Batman didn’t have any reason to travel so far afield to investigate a single dead kid, so Bruce Wayne would have to do.

“I at least want to take a look.”

[winniethewife]

Ignite our dreams of starry skies

(Creature!Vessel x Gn!Reader)

A/N: Thank you @midgardian-witch for beta reading!!

As Always if you want to hear me shout into the void about this band (And others) Please follow me over at @lyricallymelodic  

CW: Drowning, Vessel is still so sad, Sleep was mean, Vessel has Trauma, Angst

Disclaimer: All fan fic written by me for this fandom is based on a fictional depiction of the personas of the band members, no real people were perceived in the making of this fiction.  

Ao3 link

Part 2: Autumn: Is this real love I’m falling in?

Last Chapter - Next Chapter

Words:1541

It had only been a couple weeks into their stay when the leaves started to turn. The weather had started to get a little colder and yet they hadn’t even thought about regretting the choice to stay. Vessel had spent the days teaching them the ways of the forest, where the paths in the forest twisted on themselves, where you could get fresh water, how to find food. In turn Vessel asked questions about the world they came from, what they did on a daily basis, who mattered to them back home, what their life was like before being selected. The days became shorter and that meant they were setting up camp earlier and earlier. Vessel knew it would get too cold for his human companion to sleep out in the woods soon. He needed to get both of them to his winter shelter before long. This plan and other thoughts of their survival and comfort were racing through his mind as they sat by the fire. They were watching him: The way the flames glowed and reflected on his antlers, the strands of his ash colored hair peeking out from under the hood. It wasn’t something they think they could ever get used to.

“You’re beautiful,” They said unexpectedly, the words slipping past their lips before they fully recognized what they were. Vessel turned to look at them as his eyes widened, never having been called beautiful before. In regards to himself, kindness was a foreign concept, something he would never give himself and never expected anyone to give him.

“I’m…what?” He stuttered as his gaze met theirs. They felt embarrassed, as the heat rose in their cheeks, trying to figure out how to fix what they had done. They hadn’t even meant to say it out loud; it just happened. What if they ruined everything?

“I-I sorry I just, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I do think you are…but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” They stumbled over their words as they looked down in shame. Vessel wasn’t sure exactly how he was supposed to react, but he knew he didn’t want them to feel bad about his reaction.

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was just not expecting you to say that. Much less think such a thing.” He was still baffled. He was a monster, a creature, something that should be hidden for all time. That he knew. They could sense that arguing the point would be fruitless; he would not believe them. So they decided to ask something else.

“Have you always been like this?” The question was something that they had been wondering from long before they had set foot in the forest, back when they had only heard stories of the creature who lived in the woods. Vessel snorted.

“No, of course not. You think I was born like this? With runes and scars all over my body? You’re quite funny to think that.” Vessel chuckled, a sound they hadn’t heard from him before now. It was like music; then again his voice always sounded like music to them.

“I suppose I would have to wonder how you were born with such large antlers if that was the case.” They playfully replied, drawing another melodic laugh from him. He shook his head and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. Vessel was starting to feel like his walls were coming down, bit by bit. After so many years it was nice to get to know someone, to not be alone all the time. He leaned forward resting his arms on his knees as he looked into the fire.

“I was born human. On the night I was born the sky was full of constellations that have drifted from view by now.” He began. It was time to tell them his story, one he hadn’t told in a long while. “I grew up different. I could hear things, see things. The world spoke to me. The voice was the loudest in the sea, so that is where I went. I spent my early years sitting by the water listening, learning, but once I was mature I finally spoke back. And that is when I found Sleep.” They listened to his every word with fascination.

“Sleep told me I could be something more, something special. That he could make all the hurt I ever felt seem insignificant. He promised that no one would ever forget me. That I would be cared for. All I had to do was drown in his waters. So I did.” He lifted his head slowly, their eyes meeting, and his fingers traced the scars on his neck. “I lived in the depths of the ocean, becoming one with Sleep, learning his ways. In that time I lost my mortality and learned what exactly I had agreed to when I entered that world. My past pain was forgotten and I was never alone. But I had to change, adapt. I had to become what Sleep needed.” His gaze had returned to the fire. Although he was still telling the story to them, he seemed far away, perhaps all the way back to the underwater world he once inhabited.

“At some point I had spent so long in the water I had forgotten what the sun felt like, yet I still missed it. When I expressed to Sleep that I wished to return to the surface he was not pleased. He told me he could not keep me safe from the pain that I would experience up here, that when I left he would have to keep his promises. I didn’t understand what that meant then. I do now.” He sounded so defeated by this. He seemed to return to the present in that moment, after blinking slowly he looked up and over to them, as if sensing they had something to say.

“What does that mean?” they asked cautiously, unsure if they were allowed that question.

“It means exactly what he said. When I returned to the surface I experienced suffering so unbearable that nothing I had ever experienced compared. Physical suffering was only the beginning. My first transformation, the adaptations to living underwater happened slowly over time, the change to this form was quicker but excruciatingly painful.” Vessel winced at memory. How his skin had burned in the sun the first time leaving the marks on his skin, how he felt his gills seal closed when he took his first breath of air. Most painful of all was the feeling of his antlers breaking through, he’d never forgotten the feeling. They moved closer to him, their presence was a comfort. He wasn’t used to that, feeling safe.

“What about the other promises?” they asked, their eyes examining his expression.

“Well, as you well know the villagers still tell stories of me to this day. As for being taken care of, this forest has everything I could ever need and yet still Sleep tells the seers to send sacrifices and offerings that I either don’t want or need.” He scoffed in annoyance. They felt odd, after all they had grown up with the traditions of their village, the regular offerings of food and goods to the creature of the woods. The sacrifices of young people as ordered by the gods. Or so they were told.

“You said that the physical suffering was only the beginning. What of other suffering? What else happ-” Vessel interrupted them.

“That’s a story for another time. For now you should rest. We still have a long distance to travel tomorrow.” He stood up and moved away from the fire, checking the perimeter of the campsite. The likelihood that some of the dangers of the forest would encroach on them was low, but he felt better checking himself rather than taking the quiet for granted. They watched Vessel intently. They didn’t know how to describe this feeling; it was unlike anything they had felt for any other person. It was beyond attraction, it was like finding something they never knew they lost. They moved to get into the nest-like bed that Vessel had put together for them to sleep in, as he had done every time they set up camp. Did he just do it out of necessity because he thinks they couldn’t take care of themselves? They weren’t sure, but they hoped it was more than that. As they curled up in the makeshift bed Vessel came over to sit beside the nest, watching over them as they slept.

“Do you ever sleep?” They asked with a yawn as they felt their eyelids get heavier. Vessel chuckled again.

“Not like you do. I rest for periods of time, but I can’t truly sleep anymore.” He explained in a soft tone, his bright red eyes meet theirs for a moment and he smiles. That smile, his sharpened teeth didn’t even bother them, they were entranced. “You however still need to sleep. Rest your eyes. Let Sleep carry you to the dream world.” His voice was soothing. The last thing they saw as their eyes flutter shut is the glow of his irises, a glimmer of affection in his expression.

~

Masterlist

Taglist: @silvernight-m @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @stellasplendens @ierofrnkk @bloodmoon-bites @buckyreads001

[kiwimintlime]

A Simple Favor

SEASON 2 SPOILERS!

for @terrickweek2025

word count: 2.3k

prompt: betrayal (this is technically for the wrong day but I did want to post it today for @icy-book's birthday)

cw: angst

notes: this takes place like 2-3 years before the start of season 2. I'm bad with my timelines so if that doesn't make sense shhhhhh. this is definitely not my usual wheelhouse, but I did enjoy writing this. happy birthday Icy! (also I literally just finished writing this no beta we die like Doug)

Terry wondered if he was getting just as paranoid as Lark. All day he’d felt the sensation like he was being watched. Something just at the edge of his periphery, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He’d tried scanning the area with magic, and once he could’ve sworn that he just felt something, but no luck. And he could only look over his shoulder so times before he started getting weird looks.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” his date, Veronica, asked him, “You seem on edge.”

“Uh, yeah,” he did his best to give her a reassuring smile, though he had no idea how convincing it actually was, “just a bit stressed from… work… is all.”

“Oh, well we can end things early tonight if you’re too tired, I completely understand.”

“No,” Terry took her hand and smiled. “Being with you relaxes me.” He did genuinely mean that. He liked Veronica, he liked her a lot. And even if it was only their fourth date, he could see things going pretty far.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” The two of them walked hand in hand in the cool night air through the park, simply enjoying each other’s company. After a while Veronica slowed down, looking quite serious. “So, Terrance.”

“Yeah? “

“I like you, a lot,” she bit her lip, “I like what we have and I want to keep seeing you.”

“I feel the same way, “ Terry gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m glad, “ she brightened up a bit before steeling herself again, “I just feel you should know, if we are going to keep seeing each other and this thing is serious, that I have a kid.”

“Oh!” Terry didn’t know quite what to say. He didn’t mind at all, he just didn’t know what exactly was the appropriate reaction.

“She’s thirteen. Her name is Theresa, but she actually also goes by Terri.”

“What a coincidence, I like her already.” Terry grinned, “Thirteen huh? I’ve got friends with kids around her age.”

“So… you don’t mind? “

“Not at all. As a matter of fact—”

There! There it was again. That feeling of being watched, even more intense this time. It wasn’t just a feeling anymore either. It was more tangible, a presence, a… scent. And a scent Terry recognized all too well, no matter how many years it’d been. Something somewhere between wood smoke and incense.

“Terry? Are you okay?” Veronica asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Talk about shit timing. He had to get her out of here. “Um, no actually. Look, I hate to do this l, and I promise it’s not because of what you just told me, but I really have to go. I promise I’ll call you okay?”

She looked crushed, though she hid it the best she could. “Um, okay. I’ll be waiting on your call.”

Terry watched her leave, chest tightening.

“Ooh, yeah, she definitely hates your guts now. A real shame, she seems nice.” A voice said from behind him. Terry whipped around, swinging as he went. He’d always been the stronger of the two. But to his surprise the blow was easily blocked and parried, with his weight being used against him. He somehow ended up pushed up against a tree, wrists held above his head, a razor sharp tail close to his throat.

“Nicholas.” Terry spat out.

“Now is that any way to greet an old friend?” Nick flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh and this,” Terry looked pointedly down to the tail at his throat, “is friendly to you?”

“Hey, you swung first.”

“What do you want?” Terry hissed.

Nick’s eyes slid away from Terry’s face for a moment. “I need to ask a favor.”

“You’ve got a funny way of asking for one.”

“I— oh for fucks sake” Nick’s tail darted away from Terry’s neck and into his pocket, snatching out his phone. He looked Terry in the eye. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to attack me and hear me out.”

Terry thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Fine.”

True to his word, Nick let him go. Terry rubbed his wrists. He didn’t remember Nick being that string, especially with just one arm. He looked at Nick. “Can I have my phone back? “

“I think not. I’d prefer you didn’t call for back up, considering what happened the last time we were all together.”

“You mean the time I asked you for a favor? I don’t know what makes you think I’d do you one now.”

“Because this could solve all our problems.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“There are literally hundreds of other worlds out there, if not more. The problem is getting to them.” Nick explained, “You knew how to get to hell, which is why you needed me. I’ve spent the last ten years searching for access into any of them. Terry, I’ve found one I think could be perfect. And the access point is just about two hours from here.”

This was bullshit. It had to be. Terry himself and everyone at D.A.D.D.I.E.S. had spent just as much time looking for the same answer. For it to fall into his lap like this, hand delivered by the person who had the most reason to hate him… it just wasn’t possible.

“Why come to me with this?” Terry asked.

“I need a sorcerer, they’re not exactly easy to come by.”

“I know for a fact hell’s got a few of those. Hell, you’ve got a decent amount of magic yourself.”

“And all their magic, like mine, is touched with The Infernal. The portal I found is non reactive to natural phenomena, and extremely volatile to everything from hell. I need magic that doesn’t have Satan’s stink on it.” Nick’s voice got louder. “You think I didn’t try other options? You think I want to be here, asking you for help?”

Nick looked… desperate. It didn’t look good on him. Something tugged in Terry’s chest. Something he pushed down.

“I can’t trust you.” Terry said.

“The feeling’s mutual.” Nick sighed. “Look, the sooner we fin a solution the sooner our lives go back to normal. Wouldn’t that be nice? No more everyday battle, no more looking over your shoulder, no more constant worry about the safety of those you care about. I— I could see my son again.” Nick’s voice cracked. Badly. Terry reached out a hand without even thinking but Nick batted it away. “Don’t… don’t patronize me man. Are you helping me or not? “

Terry gave it a last thought. “Fine.”

Nick’s face brightened into the kind of smile Terry hadn’t seen in a long time. That tug on his heart was back, and it was harder to pretend that it wasn’t. He cleared his throat.

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Hell no. At least not until you see that my idea is viable. I don’t need to others jumping me again when I least expect it.”

“I— I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, real convincing. Come on.” Nick led Terry around the corner to where a convertible was parked. It was covered in flame decals because of course it was. “Hop in.”

Terry did and once Nick was in the driver’s seat they sped off into the night. Out of San Dimas, out onto the highway . The night air was cool and the stars were stunning. What felt like a million lifetimes ago Terry and Nick had spent their summers just like this. Open road, less worries, more freedom. Sometimes with the others, a lot of times just the two of them. A million lifetimes indeed.

“How long have you been following me?” Terry asked.

“Don't flatter yourself. Just today. I wanted to know how much of a problem you’d be to deal with.” Nick smirked. “Clearly not much. Guess brawling with presidents pays off.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

They were quiet for another ten minutes before Nick asked, “Why you? Lark I would’ve understood. He thinks this whole thing is his fault and it’s his job to fix it. He’s the mot desperate of all of us. And Sparrow will go with whatever he wants. Grant… I dunno. But you? You were my best friend, you were my— Just… why?”

Terry exhaled a long breath. “I don’t even know anymore. I’ve thought about it for years and I— I think I thought you would understand. I didn’t think things would end up this way. I figured we’d force your hand and you’d make the right choice.”

“The right choice?” Nick’s voice was dangerously low.

“That’s not—” Terry sighed again. “I don’t know. All of us were so miserable, so worn down. I thought if it came down to it you’d choose us.”

“My dad is the king of hell, I have a responsibility—”

“I know. I know that now, I understand better.”

Another silence fell between them. Then Nick spoke. “I wasn’t just following you around today. I stopped by Taylor’s school. He’s doing alright. Could use some more friends, but he seems happy enough. Cassie’s doing a great job.”

“That’s good.”

“Mhmm.” Nick's voice was quiet again,“He doesn’t need me Terry. I’ve turned out worse then Glenn. At least he came home every couple weeks.”

The pit in Terry’s stomach grew deeper. He knew what it was like not to have a dad, and he’d taken one away from this kid.

“Did you ever think about taking him with you?”

“To hell? At the beginning yeah. But it was no place for a kid that young, a kid with no frame of reference for what was going on. Not to mention his mother had no idea about any of it. And now… now it’s too late. Can’t exactly show up with a gallon of milk, ya’know? Especially not with the FBI on my tail. I keep an eye on him, I’ll be there if he needs me, but until this whole thing is sorted out it’s better I keep my distance.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that Taylor had to go through all this.”

Nick just kept his eyes on the road.

“Me too.”

They drove on in silence. Terry must have fallen asleep to the sound of the engine and that wood fire scent, because next thing he knew Nick was shaking his shoulder.

“We’re here.”

Terry looked around. They were out in the desert, on a patch of road as unremarkable as the rest of the highway. “Where’s here exactly?”

“Come on.” Nick started walking out into the desert, stopping about 20 feet away from the road. He looked back. “Come on, it’s hard to see from far away.”

Terry got out of the car and walked towards Nick, peering into the moonlit night. Sure enough, if he looked just the right way, there was a ripple in the air. “Oh my god.”

“Right? Watch this.” Nick picked up a stick and tried to poke at it. The stick stopped just short of the ripple, evidently unable to go any further. He then set his hand ablaze with infernal flame and reaches out to touch it. This time, the tips of his fingers just barely made it through before the ripple spat him back out. For a split second Terry caught a glimpse of something beyond. Nick looked at him. “Your turn champ.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I dunno, just… magic at it.”

Terry sighed and got closer to the portal. He reached out towards it, and as his hand got closer it almost felt like it was being sucked in. “I don’t know about this.”

“Are you kidding me? This is it! It’s another world, it’s exactly what we’ve been looking for. This will fix everything.”

Terry’s hand crossed the barrier. It felt almost like a soft, fleshy curtain. He felt himself being tugged further in, all the way up to his elbow. “Nick, I don’t like thi—”

“Yeah I bet you wouldn’t. It’s not the best feeling.” Nick's voice was velvety soft and dangerous, “But hey, at least you won’t lose the arm.”

“What the hell—” The portal was all the way up to his shoulder now.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, it’s not like it’s a 1v4.” He was clearly holding himself back from laughing now, a dark chuckle in his voice.

“Nick!” Terry felt his chest being almost folded up into it, pulled in an unnatural way.

“I got stuck in here a little while back. It’s not like a full world per se, more like a pocket dimension. Kind of like the one Willy’s in actually. Definitely not pleasant, but I survived.”

Terry’s entire torso was inside the portal, his legs soon to follow.

“’Course, the difference is, I had people who knew exactly where I was. Dad sent some demons out here to get me in just a couple hours. You, on the other hand, don’t .”

If this thing followed any sort of natural logic, Terry’s legs should’ve been snapped backwards at the pelvis. As far as he could tell, nothing was broken, but it all just felt so wrong.

“A bit naïve, don’t you think? Following someone who hates you out into the middle of nowhere. I honestly didn’t think this gambit would be so easy.”

“Fuck… you…” Terry managed to spit out. His head was the only thing still sticking out.

“I’ve got demons in hell for that darlin’.” Nick leaned in, “It’s not a nice feeling is it? Being betrayed. Oh and before I forget.” He took out a paper seal and slapped it on Terry’s forehead. “Can’t have you figuring your own way out of here with magic.”

With that he pushed Terry’s head the rest of the way in. He just stared at the ripple for a moment before walking back to the car. Terry’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Nick looked at the screen. It was a text from Veronica. He shrugged before burning the device to ash in infernal fire. Not his problem. He opened up a portal to hell and drove back home.

[vyvienne]

Whispers In My Mind

I had reason to return to the inn for an evening. I walked through the streets and noticed Silvermoon City looks reborn in many ways. People are stopping to chat on the benches and near the fountains, shopping and even sharing confections and drinks as they promenade through the lovely golden hued twilight.

I find twilight to be one of my favorite times of day. It is the breath that holds between day and night, that moment of magic, like midnight, where anything is possible. But like all things, it is fleeting. You cannot hold it in your hand for it slips through your open fingers like sparkling water dripping back into the ocean. But the magic is there, for anyone who knows how to recognize it.

Like the first breath of life, death is also only a moment in time. Like twilight, it happens and then we go beyond it, continuing our journey where we are supposed to go. For those left behind, it is a nightmare which you cannot escape. Holding your breath, the dying go beyond our hold, just like the water through our fingers. But what of those who can pull us back from death? Not those, like me, who can restore a spirit after a momentary slip. But those who can truly bring us back?

We do not speak of them. Or if we do, we only whisper for fear they may turn their gaze upon us. The Lich King. Gul’dan. Sister Svalna. Powerful enough to preserve that moment of death forever. For those who aspire to this power, they do dare to whisper the word.

It is Necromancy. And I aspire to it.

I have started to believe this is the reason I hear the whispering of what I think are the dead. No one has been able to disabuse me of this possibility. I do not speak of this to any, though I have finally found those who I *can* discuss with and they will not consider me insane. If they consider me “evil” it will only serve to foster a deeper embrace of fellowship, I believe.

It is my understanding that any cosmic force may be used to reconstruct the flesh and bones of any undead creature. This means one does not have to only use death magic, or perhaps a combination of various cosmic forces in case one would need to supplement the area of magic one might lack.

I have noticed that when I am near a dead thing, there is something akin to a scratching at the back of my magical mind. An itch that I cannot quite reach, a moment in time that, like twilight, slips through my fingers. The whispers become *almost* clear as any voice around me, but there is a block that prevents me from hearing them fully.

I wonder if it could be the Light in its own way prohibiting me from where I want to go, but since imbibing that large amount from the Bloodcrest Font, I have discounted that notion. The Light is simply another cosmic force and cannot restrain my power should I wish to use it. Therefore I strongly suspect it is a mental block and I even further posit that I know where it comes from.

The lingering influence of Drex and Angeline still keenly felt, without me recognizing it until now. Their power seeped into me, and I have unconsciously limited myself. For them. For love and friendship of those who wished me to be other than I am, have always been. For fear of what they may think of me, even though both are gone now and have no conscious hold on me. No more of this. I am shedding the chains that have held me back.

Necromancy is not an easy topic to research. There is very little to be found in most libraries on the subject. It is a forbidden topic by the Church of Light and it is my understanding that most other “legitimate” libraries also prohibit books on the topic from entering the annals of their halls. So what is the aspiring necromancer to do?

Go to the Damp, of course, where books on every topic are not only encouraged but included. I also feel certain I could speak with either Varethuun, Zalilirah or the Defiler and find what I seek. I would ask Nezzok but I don’t think I am on his Winterveil holiday card list presently. I hope to see them soon but if not I will reach out over the Sanguine.

This is the first I have written about my desire. The first time I have been willing to acknowledge my interest on the subject. For obvious reasons, even I have shied away from it. But how will I ever reach my goals if I continue to turn from areas of power that I feel are speaking to me?

@dinthoqaf @zalilirah @nezzokthecollector

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

I've been seeing a trendy tag game on here, which is posting your ten favourite movies as gifs. And since the likelihood of me getting tagged are devastatingly low, I shall just do the game on my own post and tag others in it. Why, cuz it's fun! Anyways, here goes!

In no particular order and probably different to my list of ten movies from a month or so ago:

no pressure tags! @virtie333 @thekenobee @russell-crowe

[javierduffy]

different.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[sysig]

He was a human pirate, which you wouldn’t think you’d have to specify and yet (Patreon)

[mel-loly]

Dont mind me:3

I- Tsu.. You didn't need to... But.. Yeah, uh... Thanks..😅💛

(no pressure, but if you can read the tags, I'd be happy! and that doesn't just apply to tsu but to everyone)

[milfbrainrot]

I feel insane for cringing every time I get recommended a video of a teacher teaching in their classroom where you can hear the kids answering questions etc but 1) what happened to no filming policies in schools and 2) if my siblings were ever being even tangentially used for content I'd kill someone especially because 3) so many of these are in the US with the teacher's whole name and face attached and in an age of school shootings and stalking becoming 100000x easier with the internet I really don't get how bringing this much attention to your specific classroom and students is allowed, and I'm not even touching on the high school teachers who include their kids' faces

[deoidesign]

I have a question, but it may be already have been answered in the story (my brain is just not the best with memory).

Since vampirism symbolises for you chronical illness (which, omg, that is a hot take I've never thought off before and love from now on), does Steve count as chronical ill, too, with the whole halfvampire thing going on? So, would his uncontrollable time jumping each month be a symptom of that chronical illness?

not in the story, no worries! Just a possible interpretation and my personal intent when writing.

As a small aside I personally don't like to think of chronic illness as something that people "count" as, so to speak, it's an extremely personal label and incredibly varied between individuals and as with all disability there is never such thing as hard lines or black and white... but I understand why you worded it that way and I understand what you're asking.

So, yes, Steve is also chronically ill within this framework. The entire comic is sort of shaped around this, to be honest! I mean he canonically has some pretty extreme memory issues... He's also canonically homeless (not that this is an illness but I just mean it's something I think most people forget about him when discussing him). And, yes, his condition is uncontrollable and is severely impacting his ability to live the life he wants to live.

He has just been barely coping up to the point we meet him, and has been very desperate which is what led him to creating that list of deviations. He has periods where his body is out of his control, he is unable to form relationships, he hurts others without meaning or wanting to... Yeah. He's metaphorically relating to a lot of things, really.

So, yknow, you're welcome to interpret him as you'd like! for me I relate a lot with my various issues and conditions and thus that's why I've projected on him the way I have, but of course I would understand entirely different interpretations of what is inherently metaphorical.

[pineapplesagainstpizza]

Okay okay one last thing because it pissed me off.

This whole attitude of framing anxious and cautious women of being hysterical and going "Oh the chances of assault are so slim. I carry a gun so it'll never be me yada yada" will not shield you from assault or harassment. The people that always say this aren't victims; they've never been assaulted, harassed, stalked and followed home. They think that because it never happened to them that its not experienced frequently by other people. It's a take lacking empathy