#anyway just wanted to say about the hate because i was so surprised

[holy-mother-of-whumpers]

I'd like to explain why I disagree.

Disclaimer.

I have not been around TikTok stuff so I have no idea what is this against. Maybe I'd agree with them against it, but just don't know. All it follows is NOT against the book tok culture but just a polite disagreement of this post or what it made me think about.

This is not about booktok

"If someone told me... There is an enemy to lovers... Why are you spoiling the story?" -> spoiling is bad and marking the tropes is spoiling.

Spoiling is bad.

Spoiler works on some kind of content, like Marvel, which is a lot of surprise value and 'disposable' stories. If the narrative is good a spoiler (provided it isn't about the plot twist) doesn't decrease the enjoyment but enhances it (there is a whole thing, may even be called spoiler effect? Spoiler paradox?).

If spoiling or knowing the content would ruin things, there wouldn't be classics. Nobody would read LOTR, dracula, the Iliad/Odyssey, Count of Monte Cristo. Yes there are always going to be people who come at it free of previous knowledge, which is great for them, but usually people are aware of the story bits (like that the suspicious count in Dracula is in fact a vampire - I knew that and yet the book was an absolute blast, very suggested! It even got me trying epistolary novel as a format) and read it anyway. More, they read it because they kinda know what they are getting into.

So no, not all spoiling is intrinsically bad, in fact nobody would read a story they know nothing about. I'd say the trick is to 'spoil' the setting and the character dynamics... Just NOT something the author was playing as a reveal. Of course at this point we shouldn't even use 'spoil'.

What can we call the setting and character dynamics?

Marking the tropes is spoiling.

We can call them tropes and genres, they are broad characterizations that help people have an idea of what they are getting into. We all prefer a few genres.

What if we were allowed to prefer a few tropes as well, or just be free to avoid those we don't like?

The entire discussion that happened about fantasy romance (before it had a name) was that people got into what they thought it was fantasy but ended up with just romance, with basic characterization, minimal world building, no intrigue or epic battle between good and evil. It was very unsatisfying; so more classification of the book is better than less (with common sense, nor I nor anybody else wants a list of every single thing that's in there).

'Classification' as in to guide to to find the book you like or to let you know if you want to try something different than usual or again, you found a trope you never knew (like me with the reincarnation trope in webtoons) and you want to proceed and eat that in copious amounts until you have wrung every last bit of serotonine/dopamine from it.

If you don't want to know, you should be allowed to know where the trope markers are, so to avoid and go in blind (like I do with movies I know I'm interested in: I just don't watch the trailer. A legit choice I'm allowed to make and happy because of it).

Conclusion: if you think marking a trope is spoiling, they probably did it wrong, because it shouldn't. It should be supposed to give you an idea, so you aren't buying a book for the pretty cover.

Note! From fanfiction to published books it would be a good idea to use warnings, to some extent - I'd love to skip historical novels with gratuitous sa because it's 'realistic'... At this point it's its own trope which I'd like marked so I can avoid it. I have had enough of it ok. No hate but I want to keep away.

I'd like also a protagonist marker, examples, Reluctant Protagonist (no hate, just dislike) or pov protagonist (especially in fantasy romance so I know they aren't going to do anything and we are admiring together the brooding tragic-backstoried main lead).

Saying: 'I am annoyed by this thing' is legit and I support presenting narratives in a way that allows people to choose how much to know about it. Like a general summary behind, a tropes list inside the cover (or something) for those looking for the tropes. Saying 'you can't use fanfiction terms' is incorrect, tropes aren't fanfiction terms, and wrong in the 'you', because 'you' (publishing industry?) should cater to people taking into account that different people want different things and consume the book in different ways, nobody should be forced to consume a book any other way that the one makes them happy :)

Second post.

Again, I don't know about booktok so I'll keep to "encourages authors to built their entire story around marketable tropes [...] turn more of a profit".

The placing (<- marketing term) of a book on the market is hella hard ok. Like, so much. Very often what makes a book great is subtle, hard to explain, and people have a short attention span anyway. Building a story around a trope may be a bad idea, but many writers start the story around a image or a scene floating in their mind, all stories are Bron from an idea. Tweaking the core idea to a marketable trope make the author sell. "Turn more of a profit" yes?? Yes please??? Begging here??? If I have spent like the last five years working on this story I want people to a) find it interesting (thus I am brought to play on the main tropes in there) and b) make money out of it. I worked on that story for the last five years. Am I so evil to think I want a revenue so I can focus on my next book instead of doing so in scraps of times in this capitalistic hellscape? Yes I want the money so I can do what I want with my life and time (writing in this case) and give people meaningful stories.

If the trope-marketed story isn't meaningful I'm afraid the problem is the writer didn't care for it - which leads to another entire can of worms, kinda related (writing for the money and not for the story is an unfortunate rotten compromise for people who need money and can write but aren't paid enough to afford the time for a proper story).

So: writing a story around tropes is bad if it's demanded from the publisher like this, and with limited time to develop it, because it's what is popular now.

Using the tropes inside the book to market it, is just how you market a book. Who never ran into a great book which never got the popularity it deserves? It's because it was marketed wrong, or unsuccessfully.

Again placing and marketing a book is HELLA hard and often it's what makes it or breaks it for the book itself, even more than the content.

Let's cut authors a break on this ok (lol we can harass publishing companies though, just a little tee hee).

Third post

Do you know I actually dislike long posts??? How did I get here. Ah yes, frustration.

Why is fanfiction considered easier. 'cheaper' narrative?

Because you already know and care about the characters. Making people love our little guys is also rather hard.

If it works you will end up caring though, and people will put them in Coffee au.

This third post seems to misunderstand what tropes are. Characters are kinda always in a trope. You know that joke, after reading the vocabulary all books area remix? Tropes are how we categorize stuff happening in books (technically the recurrent things, but once we have given a name to all thing (and we have actually) everything is low key recurrent). Yes it often devolves into cliches, when a trope is cheap and obvious and kinda gratuitous. But they are 'places' where the characters are.

I, a living person, am always in some place or 'surroundings' since I am made of matter which occupies a space surrounding me. A trope is the surroundings of the characters.

You can made to care about original characters in a coffee shop, like if you are reading a cozy (example) and slowly get to know the people meeting for coffee.

The post seems to suggest that characters in books exist outside tropes. Not really. But also not a crime, I hope I explained politely why I disagree.

Why should you care for some randos meeting in a coffee shop? Well, if this is a book, consider it an essay explaining you exactly that ✨

More disclaimers.

Again, this isn't about booktok

This isn't against the publishing industry, if you have critics of them I'll probably agree.

If you take one of the things I said to the extreme to make it absurd, that is cheap, argumentative and I will ignore you. Same if you warp something away from what I meant, or your reply is based on an incorrect knowledge of this stuff, or you are just being provocative for the sake of it. Be polite and chill people.

Sorry it’s early but you really can’t use fanfiction terms in a non fanfiction context like if someone is trying to sell me a book to read and they tell me there’s an enemy to lovers I would be annoyed because why are you spoiling the story lol

[spidybaby]

Makeup Voice-over

Madrid Boys x Influencer!Reader

Summary: You ask your boyfriend for help to record the voice-over of your makeup routine.

Warnings: cursing.

A/N: Hi guys! Many of you asked me to do a version of Barca Boys but with Madrid guys. I took the most mentioned in the requests, hope you like it, love you 🙂‍↔️❤️

Jude

"So, I just have to do say what you are doin'?" He asks, confused while you place the airpods on his ears.

"Yes, baby." You smile at him.

"What if I don't know the name of the product?" He asks, worried. "Or the name of the tool?"

"Jude, just do it your way, call it whatever."

"Alright, boss." He smiles.

You left the room, leaving him to do it alone. You walk with a laundry basket to the laundry room. Wanting to be surprised with the video once it's done.

Jude does what you told him, play the video, and start to say what you are applying with a lot of detail.

"Hello' mates, I'm Y/n, your favorite one. Today, I'm doing a tutorial so you can look as amazing as I do."

He chuckles as he stops the video. You recorded in parts so he could pause and do the voice over slowly.

"I'm applying this green gel, I think that's for hair." He says, confused. "Oh, on my face, okay." He doesn't understand why you would apply that to your face. "Now I'm grabbing this and putting drops of it on my face. As you can see, it's the same color as my skin." He explains.

He takes a pause to drink some water.

"With a sponge, I know that cause my amazing boyfriend who I adore gave it to me!" He says proudly. "I spread it all over my face, then you grab another product with the same color and put it under your eye, in your chin, in your forehead."

He tries to understand what you are doing but he doesn't really know much about makeup and he doesn't really know much about the names.

"Okay, so now you need to use powder, place it all over the stuff you just spread." He confusingly says. "Now I know this one, you need to blush your face just like when my perfect boyfriend gives me a compliment. Love you, darling." He chuckles.

He feels happy that he knows what you are doing, he might be dumb but he wasn't dumb to blush.

"Now apply brown powder cause why not." He explains. "Also, now with a brush, you grab this other brown powder and apply it to the eye, close it before, we don't want to become blind."

He praised himself for the knowledge.

"Now that your eyes are powdered with brown, you grab an even darker brown and do it to only a part of your eye." He says, obviously thinking he is correct. "Now you take this shiny powder and apply it to the other part of your eye, yes."

He pauses again, taking a other sip of his drink.

"Okay, mates, and you grab this mascara. Yes, that's the name. Write it down. You apply it to the lashes twice, apparently."

You are downstairs finishing with loading the washing machine, not thinking that it was going to be as funny as it was being.

"Now we apply lipstick, but if I'm being honest let's skip it, fuck!" He says, very confident. "Oh, shit. Not this glossy thing. Okay, apply a glossy thing to your lips but don't kiss your man because that will end up on his lips."

He hates gloss, everybody knows that now.

"And then you spray your face, why? I don't know." He chuckles. "Thank you guys, now go buy a real madrid jersey with the number 5, bye."

Kylian

"Bonjour à tous, je suis Y/n."

"Kyks, in English, please!" You say from the kitchen. He was recording the voice-over on the couch.

"Anyways, today I'm doing my skin care and makeup. Let's start." He says in a very sweet tone. "First wash your face if you don't disgusting."

You can't help but laugh at him.

"Shhh, I'm working here." He says, trying not to laugh. "You now need to pass this cotton thing with this mmm, water?" He questions.

You shake your head, he tries to praise that he knows everything but clearly don't.

"Pass it around and let it dry." He nods at himself. "Then you need to apply this silicony gel, make sure it's spead correctly because if not you will root and die."

"Kylian!" You warn him. "You can't say that to people."

"I know what I'm doing, mademoiselle." He tells you. "Now that you did, apply foundation on this plate and add some of your skin care. Why? Don't know, but do it just like I do."

He pauses the video to talk to you.

"What is the plate?" He asks.

"It's a mixing pallette." You explain. "You use it to mix products."

He nods, understanding. "Now you pick it up with a brush, applying it to your face. Blend it up calmly because if not, you might break an arm." He chuckles. "Then you move to your small foundation, I think that's not what is called but Google it. It's Dior as you can see."

He makes sure to say it because when you did a video asking him to guess the price he was impressed that Dior had makeup.

"Once that's done, you grab this brown cream. Grab the brush and take some product, apply to the forehead and the cheeks." He explains. "And grab this blush, one dot on each cheek, blend it."

You smile at how he looks like he is enjoying doing it.

"Grab the powder and powder yourself, make sure to be very powder, or you'll be all wet with the other products, and you will be the clown of the party."

You cover your mouth, can't believe how extra he was being.

"Then you'll grab another brown product, applying it again, same with the blush, do it again. Don't worry if it seems wasteful. Make your boyfriend get you another one."

He chuckles, knowing that he was being a hit.

"Now you need to move to the eyes. You are going to grab a pallette and apply a color to the eyes. You then gran your marker and draw a line, make it sharp, it needs to be able to cut the enemies."

You shake your head no, laughing at him being so extra.

"Once you do that, you need to apply more lashes, bigger ones." He explains. "They glue to the eyelid, and once it's done, grab a mascara, apply it."

You move from the kitchen to where he is. "Almost done? The food is ready."

He nods. "You are going to grab a color pencil. Paint your lips with it because you'll need it for the lipstick. When you are done, you need to apply a spray."

He tries to remember the name of that spray but he can't.

"And done, now I leave to go to a Real Madrid game to see my boyfriend, love you Kylian, the best, vote for him on La Liga player of the month, bye."

Arda

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" He asks, very shyly.

"Yes, love." You smile, caressing his face. "It's just a voice-over of my makeup tutorial."

"But I'll mess up things."

"No, you won't." You smile. "Just name things as you think they are, okay?"

"Okay."

He walks over to your studio, you let him alone to do it because he asked you to.

"Okay, shit." He takes a deep breath. "Hello everyone, my girlfriend is doing a makeup tutorial. First, she's applying this skin color cream with an eggy looking sponge."

He's confuse at the sponge but won't pay mind to it.

"Then you need to grab another skin color cream. This one is, I think, a little bit more bright, or maybe it's the light." He says, very confused. "You need to hit your face with the sponge and move the cream around. Then you are going to grab a big brush, she's using one I gave her for her birthday, don't ask me, my mom helped me." He chuckles

He didn't lie. He got you a lot of makeup things for your birthday. Thanks to his mom, he got everything right because he was lost.

"Now, with another brush, she's grabbing this thing to make her face have shape or something like that. You need to apply it to the jawline, the cheek, your nose, everywhere basically."

He's confuse about why is it everywhere, but he won't question you.

"Okay, now a different brush. This has been in her collection for a long time, I know cause I once almost broke it, and she told me that." He chuckles. "You grab this pinky powder, apply it to the cheeks and I don't know why she's also applying it on the top of her nose and on her eyelids."

He's confused at why you are doing that but won't complain. He isn't a woman, he can't argue with you about it.

"Okay, now she's using this eye makeup. She likes orange, and she will use it on her eyes. This makeup was when we played with the orange jersey. Love that jersey. Also, the white one is cool, but this one has its own thing."

He's rambling, but you don't mind about it. It was supposed to be something fun for you and him. So you told him to be himself and to ramble if he wants.

"After the eyes, she usually grabs this lash comb, makes her eyelashes grow, they look amazing." He admires the image of you. "She doesn't like gloss or lipstick, so she's using this belly thing on her lips, tapping it with her fingers to make it seem natural."

He was almost done. He knows it because when you do this, you then apply a spray and say you are done.

"To finish you grab this spray, it makes your makeup last. Why? I'm not sure, but I just trust the process, apparently." He says, trying not to chuckle. "Now we are done, and as you can see, she looks amazing. Thank you for watching."

Brahim

"Bueno gente, let's start this." Brahim says. "You'll need to be pretty cause if you are not as pretty as me, sad." He says.

You shake your head no, trying not to let the big laugh you are holding out.

"You need to use some foundation, I use this one from Rihanna." He mentions, not sura about brands but dealing with it. "You grab the sponge, hit your face with it, hard please so you can stamp that makeup on."

You lost it, letting the laugh out.

"Shhh, amor venga!" He says. "Okay, move on, you grab your concealer. In this case, I couldn't sleep because I like to watch my boyfriend who is very handsome, guapo el chico!"

You laugh again.

"You then grab this powder, also grab this triangle, press the powder, and then place it under the eyes, the forehead, the cheeks." He explains, feeling like a pro. "You then grab that cocoa powder lookalike. Then please grab a brush and a blush, I love the kiko one, muy bueno, mucho pimiento!"

"Pigmento!" You laugh

"Exactly," He says. "Now I don't like to add much eye shadow, I place this light brown, como café corto de leche, then I add highlight."

"Coffee with light milk?" You ask.

"Shhh, guapa." He says, waving his hand. "To finish, I apply my favorite mascara. It's named better than sex, even tho it is not because my boyfriend joder!"

You almost pee yourself from how hard you are laughing at his silliness.

"Now, apply a lip oil and go around your day." He says sassy. "Also, don't forget to go and see my boyfriend, The Brahim Diaz, highlights on La Liga Instagram. Adiós, kiss kiss." He finishes with a kiss sound.

[nikoniclove]

Hey so today’s my birthday, and birthdays kinda always suck for me (I’ve never known why and I’m fairly sure I’m not alone on this). But anyway, I was wondering if you could write something about Ace’s first concrete birthday with Jemily and maybe it kinda feels weird for her too?

Happy birthday! Sending you virtual love 💜

The First True Birthday

(Available on Ao3 here)

Even though you promised you’d tell her about your birthday, you don’t. Mostly it’s because you’ve spent decades ignoring your birthday, so it’s just another day on the calendar like any other. Also the makeshift celebration JJ planned last year when your work anniversary rolled around and she realized she never celebrated your first birthday with the team… well that was so over-the-top. Fun, sure, and very overwhelming and unnecessary. You don’t really want a repeat of that, and you don’t have anything you do want, so you keep your mouth shut. You don’t mention it, figuring it’s better for her to be mad at you for a bit than suffer through the discomfort of celebrating your birthday.

When the day rolls around, you wake up to JJ singing merrily. You groan and bury your head under the pillow. If even part of your brain thought you’d get away without a birthday celebration, you should have known better. “Happy birthday, baby,” JJ congratulates, ducking her head under your pillow too to give you a sweet kiss. “I know we have work, which is less than ideal from a celebration standpoint, but don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

“I’m worried because you have a plan,” you counter. “We don’t need to do this. If you insist on it, maybe just something lowkey that doesn’t make me crawl out of my skin please.”

“It’s your birthday. You deserve to be celebrated. I know you. It’s nothing crazy,” she swears.

“You do realize that even knowing my birthday and singing to me is more than I’ve done any other year, so that in and of itself is fine. We don’t need more than that. How did you even know anyway? I didn’t say anything.”

The pillow’s weight lightens as Emily removes your hiding place. “How many times have you been hospitalized, even briefly, in the last six months? I can recite your medical file verbatim.” You forgot about that factor. “Birth date is right up there, my love. Now we know, and you won’t be forgotten again.” Your forehead creases into an expressive frown. Emily kisses the furrowed spot. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” you groan.

You briefly consider calling in sick to avoid whatever plans JJ might have concocted throughout the day. The idea of decomposing in the bed under a mountain of blankets and ignoring everything birthday related sounds more and more appealing. Emily grabs your ankle and drags you to the edge of the bed. “You’ll be okay. You can stomach us loving on you a bit.”

“Can I? Are you sure about that?” She lifts your pajama shirt off, tossing at the headboard to be dealt with later. “I do so well with surprises and things that are different from the norm,” you snark self deprecatingly. “And I just love to be the center of attention.”

“Trust us,” Emily implores. “If you need a break, give me a sign and I’ll get you to a quiet spot where you can take the time you need. You matter, my love, and it’s important that we get to show you that today of all days.” She helps you into clean underwear and jeans, though it’s mostly manipulating your uncooperative self because you hate the thought of this day more and more. “Up you go.” Your hands trapped in hers, Emily levers you up and nudges you toward the bathroom. You grab a black, long sleeve T shirt and deem it good enough. Deodorant. Face sunscreen. Eyeliner. Chapstick. Your morning routine takes all of six minutes. JJ stops you at your braid, taking the brush out of your hand. She takes the time to do a French braid, adding to the plait sections little by little as she moves down the back of your head.

You’re in the backseat with your work bag before you even realize you’re thirty minutes earlier than normal. The additional time makes sense when Emily parks outside of a little Parisian bakery that makes delicious croissants and lattes. When she pops in, JJ turns around in the passenger seat to look at you. “Let me celebrate you, baby, please. It’s important to me.” You clench your jaw and give her the smallest nod. You don’t really have a choice. When Jennifer Jareau sets her sights on something, nothing short of an apocalypse could stop her, and even then, you’d still bet on JJ.

When you walk through the bullpen’s double glass doors, you freeze, absolutely rooted to the spot. Your desk is a mess of color. “I did not do this,” JJ insists quickly. “I know you would hate something like this. I didn’t do this.” You hum some monosyllabic sound and force your feet forward. There are balloons and literal confetti that you already despise. There are cupcakes and little plastic characters everywhere.

The characters tell you all you need to know about who set this up, and it’s confirmed when Garcia squeals through the bullpen, shouting about your birthday with an exuberance that rivals a small child hopped up on cocaine-laced skittles. Your eyes widen at the volume. Your body instinctively braces for the inevitable hug. “Happy birthday, peaches! Oh you look stunning. A year older looks so good on you.” She bustles past you to your desk. “Okay, we have all of my favorite chachkies to keep you company throughout the day. Obviously balloons and cupcakes because it’s your birthday. I didn’t know your favorite flavor combination, so I got a bunch! I have candles and matches at my desk when you’re ready to make a wish! Oh! I love you so much,” she shrieks, pinching your cheeks dramatically.

You don’t know how to make this stop. You’re desperate to make it stop, for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. But it keeps going. You can’t tell Penelope how insane it all is because she’d be gutted that she made you uncomfortable. You manage a thank you and return the second hug she gives you. Emily squeezes your hand, a silent encouragement to keep it together.

When Garcia thankfully skedaddles back to her lair, you look at your desk in horror. It feels like everyone is looking at you, and your skin crawls with the weight of the presumed attention. You miss the silent conversation Emily and JJ share behind your back. You’re overwhelmed and uncomfortable in a very visible way in an environment that those adjectives are not… “Come with me, baby,” JJ whispers in your ear. “C’mon,” she soothes, her calm words interrupting your train of thought. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you manage. You know Garcia meant well, and this is too much. It’s too much attention.

JJ takes matters into her own hands, dragging you up the short staircase to her old liaison office. The door thuds behind you, the deadbolt clicking into place. “Breathe, baby.” Clinging to her, you bury your face in her neck, letting her long blonde hair act as a curtain to hide you away from the attention on the other side of the door. Her own breathing follows the four count you know from decades in therapy. In two three four. Hold two three four. Out two three four. Hold two three four. JJ continues the pattern until your body mimics hers. “That’s my girl. I know that was a lot. Emily will take care of it, okay? I’ve got you. Emily’s got all of that,” she repeats. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t like my birthday,” you mumble. “I can’t… I can’t call attention to myself like that. I can’t stand out like that. I need to just… blend in. I need to survive.” You don’t have to see JJ’s face to know her blue eyes shine with unshed tears. You can feel her sadness for you.

“Stop making yourself small. You deserve to take up space,” JJ states, holding you tightly. “I understand why. I do, but, baby, you’re not that kid anymore. You have made a life for yourself out of all that hurt. You found people who love you, who want to celebrate you. You did that. Let us love you loudly, baby. There’s no scenario that you end up alone. Not anymore.”

“I don’t like my birthday,” you repeat, feeling pitiful in the face of her kind words that make you feel seen while also making you want to burrow away.

The knock on the office door startles you until Emily’s voice filters through. “Just me,” she announces. JJ reaches around you to flip the lock open. Emily locks it behind herself. “Just like old times, huh, Jen?” It’s meant to give you a second to settle again. “Everything’s shifted away from your desk. Just your coffee and pastry is there.”

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings. It’s sweet. It’s just a lot.”

“I know. I’ll explain it to her,” Emily promises. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Emily kisses the side of your head tenderly in response.

You’re relieved to see your desk mostly back to normal when you escape the reassuring confines of JJ’s arms (and her old office). There’s a large stack of case files for you to lose yourself in, and murdering serial killers distract you from the birthday nonsense from the morning.

Around noon, JJ appears at your desk. “C’mon.” You can’t help the grimace that stretches your lips. “Letting me love you loudly, remember? Trust that I know you.” You gather up your stuff and follow your partners out of the federal building.

The second you’re clear of the doors, Emily takes your hand, fingers interlacing together. They let you follow along in quiet companionship. They have a clear direction in mind, and you’ll go along with, trying to trust that JJ’s intention isn’t to make you uncomfortable.

JJ pops into a cafe, coming back out quickly with a stapled take out bag. She winks at you as Emily takes off walking again. It’s another few blocks before you’re in a small, grassy community park nestled between buildings. It’s adorable in its isolation. A pop of green serenity amongst the concrete. Emily leads you to a picnic table where JJ sets out different containers. “See? Nothing outrageous. Just lunch with your favorite people.”

“Who said you’re my favorite,” you retort playfully, the fresh air doing you worlds of good. JJ smacks you lightly. “I mean Emily’s definitely on my list of favorites.”

“You bitch,” JJ teases. “Eat your lunch.”

There’s something about being outside that helps you reset. The banter, the easy conversation, the company - it all feels almost celebratory. A happiness you never expected to feel on your birthday of all days. “You’re smiling,” JJ accuses, bumping your hip as you walk back to the office. You don’t bother denying it, laughing as she slings her arm over your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

When you blindly reach for the next file in the stack around 4 PM after you’ve refilled your coffee and snacked on one of Penelope’s cupcakes, your to-do pile is empty, your fingers grazing the metal wire of the intake basket. You stare at it, unsure if you’ve ever actually caught up on all the cases and the paperwork. Your phone buzzes with a text from Emily, wishing you a happy birthday. You know there’s no way she took all of your remaining case files, so you’re betting she divvied them up amongst the team. It’s sweet and loving in a quiet way.

You’re even more surprised when JJ and Emily pack up at an appropriate time, nearly shoving you toward the elevator at 5:30 PM on the dot.

“This… umm… it was nice. Thank you,” you mumble self-consciously on the drive home.

“There’s a little bit more.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“Okay?”

“Trying to let you love me loudly. I trust you.”

At home, there’s a wrapped package in shiny purple paper on the coffee table. You trace its precise edges carefully. For a moment, tears burn in your eyes. You can’t remember the last time you got a real birthday present, so this feels monumental. “You can open it, you know,” Emily encourages, tugging your hips back onto the couch. JJ puts the box in your lap. “Hey, you okay, my love?” You nod, not trusting your voice. “You sure?”

“I’m okay. I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“It’s your birthday, baby. Of course, we’d give you a present.” You’re gentle peeling the tape, almost like a diffusing a bomb. You don’t want to rip the paper. “Hold on for a second. Talk to us. What’s going on?”

“I… just… I… uhh… I don’t remember getting a present on my birthday before,” you mumble, somehow hoping they heard you so you don’t have to repeat yourself and hoping they didn’t hear you at all. The hitch in JJ’s breath says she heard you loud and clear; she pulls you into a tight hug, professing her hatred for the world that made that a reality for you. “It’s okay. Really. It’s just new to me, so it feels intense. Good, but intense.”

To avoid driving the conversation further into volatile territory, Emily nudges you with her knee. “Go ahead, love. Open it.” The box shakes and rattles as you unfurl the tape pieces and gingerly peel apart the shimmery wrapping paper. Inside is a Lego set of the Milky Way from the art collection. Over three thousand colorful pieces to give depth and texture to the finished product, which can hang on the wall when it’s done.

“Will you build it with me?”

“Of course, baby. Do you like it?” You nod exuberantly, your fingers once again reverently tracing over the details on the box. “Good. Happy birthday, baby. We love you so very much.”

“Thank you… I… thank you for all of it.”

[umi-adxhira]

ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 021

FANDOM: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Um Dion, knocking reader unconscious

AUTHOR'S NOTES: :)

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

It’s been a week since the incident, and now you’re able to walk, although the stitches and bandages wrapped around your body mildly restrict your movements. You make the decision not to leave your room - it’s unsafe to walk around vulnerable when demon children lurk in every shadow. You’ve already lost two maids. Now either Roxana or Griselda brings you food, carefully tasting it beforehand to ensure it isn't poisoned.

Technically, you could walk if you wanted to, but the truth is, standing for too long makes your legs weak. You hate the feeling of helplessness, of fragility, but you know better than to push yourself too soon.

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Why are you spacing out?” Jeremy, the boy in front of you, tilts his head, curiosity flickering in his sharp eyes. You blink a few times before offering him a small smile.

“Sorry. Just thinking,” you say, brushing off your wandering thoughts.

This time, neither Roxana nor Griselda was available, so Jeremy has taken it upon himself to bring your meal. You watch as he takes a bite of the steak and vegetables first, chewing thoughtfully before nodding.

“It’s fine. Eat up.”

He hands you the plate, and you thank him before picking up your fork. Silence settles between you both as you eat, the clinking of cutlery against porcelain filling the quiet.

After a while, Jeremy speaks. “It’s good that Fontaine died.” Your hand pauses mid-motion. Jeremy doesn’t look at you as he continues, his voice nonchalant, as if discussing the weather. “No one liked him much anyway. But it’s annoying that bastard Dion was the one who killed him.”

You swallow your bite, washing it down with water before responding. “Dion isn’t that bad. He’s been nice to me so far.”

Jeremy scoffs. “He’s annoying. Stubborn, too. Roxana doesn’t like him, so I don’t like him either.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you feel like you have to dislike the same people Roxana does to win her favor? Because if so, you really don’t need to. I’m sure she’d appreciate your true self more than an imitation of her opinions.”

Jeremy’s expression darkens as he turns away with a huff.

“Shut it.”

But you don’t miss the small blush dusting his cheeks. It’s faint, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Smirking, you reach out and pinch his cheeks.

Jeremy flinches, jerking away from your touch. “Why the hell did you do that?!” he exclaims, standing up abruptly.

You giggle. “Because you were cute. You were blushing while thinking about your sister.”

Jeremy crosses his arms, his expression shifting to something more prideful. “Of course I care about her. I love my sister. She even says I’m her favorite person in all of Agriche.”

You laugh. “That so?”

Jeremy puffs his chest slightly, looking smug. You take another bite of your vegetables, but before you can fully chew, Jeremy suddenly leans forward and bites your cheek.

You jerk back, startled. “What was that for?!”

Jeremy smirks. “You looked like a squirrel while eating.” Laughter bubbles up from your throat, muffled slightly by the food still in your mouth. You shake your head, finishing your meal before reaching out to ruffle his hair. His golden locks become a tousled mess under your fingers. “Hey!” Jeremy whines. “I just had it done!”

You offer a teasing smile.

“I can brush it back for you if you want.”

“No way,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. He lingers for a moment, though, hesitating before he turns back to you. “You know,” he starts, rubbing his arm awkwardly, “you’re not as bad as I thought.”

You blink at him in mild surprise before grinning. “That’s quite the compliment.”

Jeremy clicks his tongue, looking away. “Whatever. Just… don’t die or anything.”

Your smile softens. “I’ll try my best.”

Without another word, he loudly announces, “I’m leaving,” and storms out, slamming the door behind him. You sit there for a moment, staring at the closed door before shaking your head with amusement.

He really is just a kid.

You finish your food in silence, letting your thoughts drift. You think back to Jeremy, the way he acts tough but is still just a 14-year-old boy who loves his sister more than anything.

Just as you let out a soft sigh, the door swings open again. This time, without a knock.

Dion.

The atmosphere shifts instantly. You look up at him, your body unconsciously tensing, knowing what he did to Fontaine. He takes slow steps into your room, closing the door behind him.

“You’re looking better,” he remarks, his tone as unreadable as ever. You keep your expression neutral, offering only a slight nod in response. Dion walks over, his sharp gaze scanning you, as if assessing your condition. Then, with a smirk tugging at his lips, he moves closer - too close. “Did Jeremy bore you?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

You hesitate, unsure of what he wants to hear. Dion is unpredictable, dangerous in ways that are difficult to define. Your instinct tells you to tread carefully. “No, he was fine,” you say cautiously.

Dion chuckles, his voice low.

“That kid is too soft on you. I wonder how long that will last.” Dion leans down slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You look better when you’re nervous,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing the edge of your jaw before trailing down to your hand.

Your breath catches, heat creeping up your neck. What is he doing?

Slowly, he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles in a deceptively gentle motion. His touch is light, teasing, yet there’s an undeniable control behind it.

“You’re still trembling,” he notes, voice barely above a whisper. “How fragile.” You swallow hard, refusing to react, but the way his fingers trace over the back of your hand sends an unfamiliar warmth curling in your stomach. Dion smirks at your silence, then moves, sitting on the edge of your bed. “You should be careful,” he muses, still playing with your hand. “You never know who might take advantage of you.”

His words are laced with amusement, but you sense something darker beneath them. You pull your hand away, but he doesn’t let go immediately - he lingers, just for a second, before releasing you.

Then, before you can react, his hand moves swiftly, pressing against the side of your neck in a precise motion. A sudden wave of dizziness washes over you, and your vision blurs.

What-?

The last thing you see is Dion’s smirk before darkness consumes you.

TAGLIST: @evaxmisu , @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus

[ollieofthebeholder]

I used to get violently ill every time my church had a celebration. Like, VIOLENTLY ill. I was fine with the regular potluck, but if it was, like, a graduation party, with cake and a punch bowl and all of that? I would be sick most of the night. I spent about ten years getting scolded for eating too much cake at these celebrations, as it was assumed that I, as an obviously fat child with no self-control, was simply lying when I said I'd only had one piece, or that I hadn't even had any because it was obviously whipped icing and I hated whipped icing.

Then when I was about fifteen or so, I was waiting patiently for the woman in charge of the punch bowl to add more soda so I could have a second cup of punch in hopes that the carbonation would settle my stomach, which was already starting to hurt, because the rest of the guests had drained it dry. I watched her come out with the bottle. I watched her pour it. I noted the paler label on the soda bottle. I expressed surprise (and mild dismay) that she was using diet soda in the punch bowl.

I was informed that she always used diet soda in the punch bowl.

It might seem like not such a big deal to YOU, because it tastes just as good and it's healthier and you don't need that much sugar anyway and and and...I've heard all the excuses, trust me. But saccharine triggers migraines, and sucralose gives me digestive issues, and aspartame does both, and even stevia makes my mouth hurt. I cannot drink diet sodas without getting sick.

And because nobody told me that was what was going on, I spent ten years getting fat-shamed by people who were trying to fix the wrong problem.

I'm also allergic to grapes. Guess what one of the most common filler juices is. Guess how many commercial cookies have raisin paste in them. Guess how many recipes use wine, or sherry, or brandy. (That's also one I have a lot of people trying to fix the wrong problem with. I ask if there's wine because the recipe commonly has wine in it, they assure me that even if it DOES the alcohol all cooks out, I explain that you can't cook out the grape, they get a very panicked look and say they'll find out.) Did you know that cream of tartar is a byproduct of wine making, and that cookies (like traditional snickerdoodles) that have cream of tartar in them are therefore unsafe for someone like me?

I'm also allergic to bananas. Guess what the most common egg substitute is in vegan baking.

And you know what? My brother hates mayonnaise. Absolutely loathes it. It's not an allergy thing, he just doesn't like it. And I still wouldn't give him food that had mayo in it without telling him. (I did once, at my mother's instigation. I'd made a pasta salad in scouts and brought it home for dinner, and my mother told him it had marshmallow fluff in it. He ate it, and afterwards, she told me to tell him what was REALLY in it. He threw up. Don't know if it was a genuine reaction or just him making a point. Don't care. I've never done that since.)

Don't sneak people food without telling them what's in it. Even if you want to show them that something is just as good as [insert food here], even if you know it's just a preference and not an allergy...just. Give them the courtesy of making their own damn decisions.

“Meatless alternatives are getting so good, you should try them! I bet you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference! In fact….”

Please

Please

Please stop trying to sneak-feed me meat alternatives.

I am willing to prepare and share a vegan meal with you, I’m willing to skip animal products in our group spaces.

Please.

Stop trying to sneak-feed me meat alternatives.

[nesscel]

hi nesscel, I have a question about your oc! ^_^

has ever Cyril met/interacted with Ness after getting hired into the bllk project? if he did, how was it, and how did he react to seeing him for the first time irl?

I hope the question is not too boring to answer, btw!! I was interested in knowing about the way he perceives Ness now that he has the chance to be closer to him :)

(I saw on ur post that he has his sign, how cute🥲)

they have met! there’s a few scenarios i usually imagine for them that i’ll put under read more ^_^ to make a long story short it’s like this:

for additional context: Cyril and @kaiserposting’s Tsubasa share in the same universe :) so Ness is double crashing out. Why would Lord Kaiser leave me for disgusting bug Isagi and manipulative pest Tsubasa 😡😡😡

and before anime-ntality’s sensors activate and he makes another post about hating women and yumes ruining canon: we changed some details about how project blue lock works so our characters can be there without needing to replace any of the already existing ones and so they can make more money

their first interactions were at various fansigns and on social media, Ness retweeted a picture of the Ness shrine at one point and Cyril got another picture of it signed at the next fansign… just to let Ness know who his biggest dickrider fan was. you get it. so at this point he’s obviously in love and everything is great and even though Ness has to do fanservice and be nice to everyone he’s sweet and beautiful and kind and he’s only saying those things to him ^_^🩷❤️‍🩹

i wanna dump some more backstory. he’s not an “official��� bllk staff member and his first job wasn’t even related to managing the program, he was looking for photographer gigs and they hired him to take photos of all the players that they’d sell as signed prints later (let’s be real, he only got hired because he cost less than professional photographers). he offhandedly mentioned that he needed to get a job to Anri who heard “CHEAP LABOR ALERT”, so if anyone asks he’s “from the social program for people with disabilities”. so he basically just does whatever task Anri gives him, like moving crates of water and gatorade or sorting everyone’s medication into little psych ward cups or going to the store because Ego is a little hungover and wants chicken soup and electrolytes. if a beautiful woman told you to do some bullshit then praised you for doing such a good job and handed you some money once in a while you’d do it too.

anyway, this may be wishful thinking but i think Ness would find the concept of someone being that into him a little alluring… especially if Kaiser and him were having marital spats. it feels good af for a bpd to have a groupie. Cyril felt sort of weird seeking out interaction from someone he had a parasocial relationship with, but he was put in a lot of situations where it wasn’t that awkward because Tsubasa and him became basically instant besties, and if Tsubasa is somewhere then Kaiser and Ness are too, so they had a chance to actually get to know each other outside of the idol/fan or work dynamic. Cyril was a bit surprised that Ness was, for a lack of a better term, a weird crybaby theater kid, but they’re both weird freaks who want to have a good day no matter what so he was still like #NeedThat and pined over him and acted tsundere if anyone even mentioned Ness and sighed wistfully watching him from across the field (he’s on the field to take pics of everyone training. BLTV is getting a twitter!)

since i love negativity and suffering sometimes i imagine Cyril actually getting the courage to tell Ness that he likes him and Ness saying that he’s flattered/he likes him too but if he was in a relationship he’d be violating his loyalty to Kaiser and Kaiser is the most important person to him. so all Cyril can do is watch Ness pine after Kaiser and spend his every waking moment with Kaiser and cry over Kaiser and be sad and limerent. YAY!

and then there’s the other scenario where they actually start d*ting… WOJFIDKFODNTRKKFNSSI-8;!:@83);&/6;£[!,*😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 <- this is what being in love feels like.

cyril is a real lover which is why he asks REAL questions like this ^

(ness would ask people if theyd love him if he was a worm though -_- and he’d be super serious about it 🪱)

[dimdiamond]

There are people who hate OHSHC and Tamaki???!!! This is hilarious, people really don't know how to have fun!

[jhuzen]

old and new [gn/m.reader]

good lord i have been gone for a long time. i am so sorry, i am recovering from bloccus writicus. also i may have been… getting in touch with my thirst for strong women. women are so beautiful. i love them. to all my requesters (? how to english), please excuse my tardiness. allow me to rev my engine before delivering them once again. i’m gonna warm up with a few posts (including this). ALSO THIS STORY IS JDIADMC IDK.

𖦹 big on genshin lore because i am nerding out, creator reader but not sagau reader, like i’m talking you are a character in the story, ooh look at me diverting from my agenda of overseer reader (i blame skirk’s master).

The mere ability to create is something so vast and so elaborate, placed upon the pedestal for all to see. If one is gifted with the passion and talent to create, they are the envy of all — to craft the most divine pieces, create something so intricate that it is nothing short of impressive.

And through it all, an artist hones one’s skills until they have reached the peak — until they’ve viewed every perspective, until they’ve used every shade, until they’ve done every stroke, all of it comes down to their prized creation;

Their Magnum Opus.

That… was Teyvat to you.

It was your pièce de résistance. If the myriad of heavenly bodies that lay before your trail were thought-provoking and terrifyingly beautiful to a fault, then Teyvat was your inexplicable masterpiece, one that took trial and error as your gentle hands shaped and carved every landscape, as your breath that blew into it became the protecting breeze, and as the tears that you wept from joy became the primordial seas of the world that birthed new life forms that you managed to call a mere happy accident.

It was yours. Many worlds before it were mere prototypes, but something you’ve cherished nonetheless. To you, Teyvat was the product that will possibly never get any better and a creation that will never be bested by anything else.

You granted it laws that were akin to the past worlds you’ve crafted with your own hands, you gave it life through the creatures that crawled around the earth. It thrived and you gave it autonomy once you thought it could work on its own course with your given gifts to let it thrive.

Teyvat was your cherished creation.

And the same rings true until now upon your quiet descent. Your immaculate robes that were woven with stardusts suddenly turning into a soft silk. You walked the earth in your bare feet, the blades of grass a mere tickle underneath you as you journeyed through the world.

The breeze blew by your hair and you felt the sheer invigoration, forcing a tiny titter out of you. You embraced the fruits of your hard labor, recalling the eons you nearly wept in agony as you continued to sculpt everything down to its tiniest detail.

And out of all of that, you birthed your pride and joy, this world that could never measure up to anything else.

Your eyes which held the countless stars and worlds you’ve created soon found itself gazing across the vast lands of this realm of light you’ve created, finding the realm of void opposing the one you were on.

Countless times you’ve heard your fellow artisans question you for creating such an unconventional place to be. But you sought balance in this perfect world of yours, where every creature can walk on their own respective realms. And if you can create pure beings of light, who’s to say that you can’t create the creatures that lurk within the void?

Your feet pattered against the grass that rustled as you hoped to approach and visit the opposing realm when you felt the ground beneath your rumble and shake. You stilled yourself with ease as you looked over your shoulder.

And your eyes had never known such beauty until now.

For the first time, a creature of divinity such as yourself was gobsmacked at the sight of a huge Vishap that stood before you.

It was a beautiful one — its blue scales that blended with the water from your tears of joy that you’ve shed upon your creation, its eyes holding the purest intentions that matched its pure being. You can feel the waters surge within its very form, like a fresh cold spring on a hot summer day.

Your eyes suddenly filled with tears as you felt your heart constrict with so much love as you watched it approach you. You have never seen such beauty that it truly nearly knocked you off your feet. Your chest ached with so much want as you continued to marvel the creature that you only hoped of succeeding in creating several eons ago.

“Oh… look at you…”

Your voice, honeyed and smooth as a silk, tinkled across the lands — waking up the creations that you gave life to upon your very own creation of Teyvat. Your voice, filled with so much love and tenderness, directed to the Vishap that towered over your tiny mortal form with ease, rang out, as if to call for it to come closer.

And it does.

The earth shakes with every weighted step that it took and you followed, contrasting the loudness with the silence of your own steps. You met it halfway until the very concept of distance no longer exists between you and the Vishap.

“…Such a beautiful one you are,” you whispered, your voice emitting a lilt of care and intense joy that you managed to suppress for a good measure before it overwhelmed you.

You lent a hand and its gaze directs towards it.

The Vishap leans into your touch and you can feel the waves of the primordial sea flow through you. With it, you can feel the joy you’ve felt once you’ve reached the end of your creation. You’ve felt the nostalgic satisfaction that kept you fulfilled even until now. You’ve felt the overwhelming love and excitement that you had when you took a step back and got a good look on Teyvat’s finality.

“You, who cradled our lives in your hands,” it spoke with a bellowing voice, making it seem like your own was but a mere squeak. “…Why do you pursue a creation as grand as this?”

You took a second as you pondered its question.

“…For the love in me is much too big not to share.”

“We have anticipated your descent. Nibelung has prophesied the return of the tearful artisan.”

You felt yourself flush at the title that was given to you unceremoniously, “Are my tears so ineffably embarrassing that I deserve such a name from my beloved creations?”

It huffed at your light jest, “It is nothing more but a praise. Your tears brought life in this barren world. Your tears gave birth to a new life that not one could hope to achieve—

“Your tears are my waters, to which I have complete sovereign on. Your tears are my will, to which I am eternally thankful for.”

You felt the inevitable warmth flow through your tiny body from the Vishap’s words alone. While it was satisfying to finish Teyvat on its own, you suddenly found a level beyond that feeling after receiving gratitude from your own creation firsthand. It melted your lonely soul and you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the feeling of it alone.

Such a simple gesture it was — to thank you — and yet the feeling it gave transcends every other emotion you’ve felt throughout the course of your long and eternal life.

“May you continue to prosper with the gift I’ve given you.” You blessed it with your small voice, barely above a mere whisper.

Your palm that shaped many worlds emitted the kind of warmth from a starting kiln and the Vishap relished in the feeling, a pleased growl echoing through the empty vast land of the light realm.

“The life that I owe to you will be cherished and used to its fullest. And should I perish, I will return with memories of you, no matter how faint.” It promised in one breath.

Your silken robes billowed against the breeze that blew by again. You can only feel your thoughts and feelings mingle with the Vishap’s. For once, you are able to see how it and its fellow Vishaps came to be, how each of them walked through the light realm and claimed its own homes where they ruled with incredible prosperity and indomitable ambition.

You were able to appreciate the further creation of life on this world that you deemed perfect, and was able to see how it went when you slept to rest for a good few centuries.

It was a feeling so invigorating, that you could feel your heart swell with so much love and pride for these dragons that walked the haven you’ve created. It mattered not to you how they came to be, only that they were able to live in peace and free from cumbersome bothers. It eased your heart, knowing that they are able to propagate their kind with so much freedom under the autonomous law that you gave to Teyvat.

You were feeling genuine satisfaction.

And it feels your jovial heart, with the way it continued to nestle its luminous scaled body into your touch.

“Protect this world with all your might. And you… you that holds my tears, will be given the authority to bring judgment of all life that makes a home on this world for centuries to come.”

Among the array of emotions that flowed through you, you felt its grateful pride surge through you.

A draconic pride that will leave its mark on you.

You had hoped it was a bad dream — a childish nightmare, no matter how unheard of it was among the divinity like you.

You hoped that the constriction in your loving heart was a jest in poor taste, that it was just a passing act of scare that you will laugh at. But as your eyes gazed at your magnum opus, your heart nearly shattered into a million little pieces.

The waters that were intimately connected to your essence, your very being, was tainted with anguish and anger. You can feel the hardships that started to brew from a few tiny nicks of pain in your heart. Teyvat was quite literally anchored to you through the primordial waters that flowed through it.

And as it continued to suffer contamination from something foreign, your heart further corroded into something that inflicted pain. You can feel the blood that soaked into the waters cry for desperation, you can feel the way it boiled with so much thirst for vengeance against whatever caused the first tragedy on Teyvat in the first place.

You placed full faith on the seven sovereigns, you had given them blessings that will aid them to guard your precious creation, but you could feel the tinge of betrayal flow through your veins when you threw a quick glance and saw Nibelung seeking something far more dangerous to defend their realm.

Something not from Teyvat. Something you know the laws that you placed which granted autonomy would reject and inflict sorrow upon those that were affected by it.

You fell into a state of unrest, pained with the grief of betrayal and longing for those that fought to protect your very own creation. A part of your mind condemns you for placing such a burden on your creations that cannot be better than outworld creatures that transcend them. But another part of you screams genuine belief to those you have tasked, that they will prevail and honor your simple wish.

Normally a couple of decades was nothing to you — as it could pass as quick as a mere minute, but to experience excruciating pain that throbbed like a vile tumor on your heavenly being was not something to sneeze at. Your heart ached for so many decades as you watched the sovereigns fall before those that intruded in your lovely creation.

And as it stole the authorities of the sovereigns, like a widow bereft its lover, you were forced into a state of slumber, lasting for centuries to come.

The new world thrives with lush life, creatures alike living as though its lives weren’t owed to the slumbering deity that was consumed with so much grief after all the tragic events that happened since its arrival on your world.

Perhaps it was the gentle mercy granted upon you that you stayed asleep when it parted a new realm for humanity’s arrival. When it was challenged by someone of the same nature, resulting to more catastrophic devastation that marred your heart with more fresh scars while you slept.

Perhaps it was best that you were unconscious as your closed eyes poured out tears endlessly that would sure tire you out for years as it happened.

And perhaps it was its atonement for the damage it caused you when you woke up and saw your Teyvat as something entirely new. Something that you didn’t create, something… completely alien.

Your pride as a divine creator was shaken, but you were quick to brush it off, wanting to see just how much your precious world was defiled and turned into something you know would never pass up as befitting into your standards. It was admittedly unbecoming of you, to turn your nose up against a creation, you always held some form of admiration and appreciation towards anything. You loved — and loved so much that you had to create to share it with your creations.

But Teyvat was once your magnum opus, it was… yours. It bathed in your heavenly tears, it felt every caress of your hands as you molded it into something you called your greatest masterpiece eons ago. You broke into a sweat, slaved away for the sake of your satisfaction upon completion, and when you finished it, you cried from happiness alone.

You descended, the flurry of stardust in your divine robes coagulating into the familiar silken robes that you wore whenever you would visit the seven sovereigns.

How many years have you been asleep? Dreaming up a reality where you shared a meal with the humongous and serpentine Dragon of Verdure, where you watched the Dragon King roar with pride, and where you exchanged the most insightful and heartfelt conversations with the Dragon of Water — the one that held your tears.

The grass underneath your bare feet feels as though it had a million stories to tell you, that among those years you’ve been forced into a slumber, you had missed a good chunk of what made Teyvat into this.

But the familiarity of the empty landscape was enough to urge you to keep going forth.

And that same familiarity ended the moment your eyes landed on fallen structures — ones you’ve never seen before. You can decipher that it once stood at a towering height, just from pillars that could squash your tiny mortal form with ease should it fall at the slightest disturbance.

You could feel a sense of tyranny from these structures, a tyranny broken by a hope from perhaps the creatures that felt trapped by it. You may have been asleep when it happened, but you can almost see how the tyranny of the past ruler of this place fell against the unity of those who longed freedom.

“Freedom… huh…” You murmured softly and a breeze rustled the grass beneath you. A lone leaf from the many trees landed on your hair, prompting you to take it and look at it.

You wondered how the Dragon of Verdure was fairing. If it had the same authority over the luscious life of Dendro as it did before.

Your feet continued to take you somewhere else, as though it had a sense of where to go. You never questioned it — as alien as Teyvat was to you now, it was still your world. And as long as the primordial waters are around, it stays anchored with you.

It didn’t take long before you ended up before a civilization — one you have never seen before when you descended before it came to challenge the seven sovereigns. Your eyes widened at the sight, pupils dilating as you watched humanity flourish and thrive within that patch of rock where a city sat.

Never had you expected to wake up to the sight of humans thriving in your world where there was once none.

Your sense of cautiousness dropped in a quick second and you took yourself towards it, foot against the hard cobblestone bridge as you walked towards the walls of this… civilization.

If you looked odd approaching this city in such a state, then you were certain they brushed it off as the guards welcomed you with a smile.

“Weary traveler, welcome to Mondstadt, the City of Freedom, blessed by our beloved Anemo Archon, Barbatos himself!”

For the first time since you had woken up, you felt the same overwhelming sense of love and tenderness as you were welcomed with living mortals, living in your creation like it was a normal occurrence for them.

Never had you known that humanity, no matter how it came upon your world, could be so beautiful.

And just like the day you met that beloved Vishap of yours, you wept.

“You sure know a lot of things about this place! Paimon could even say that you’re far more knowledgeable than Zhongli could be!”

Your laugh rang through the streets of Fontaine, angelic and seeming like a song from the heavens itself.

It had been so many years — dare you say centuries even, since you first descended after sleeping for so long with all the catastrophic events that has happened. You had traveled far and wide, discovered every single hidden civilization from the time you were asleep, learned every little conflict that happened.

You had to do the hard part of reading through every ancient tome that had a different language with each ancient civilization, but filling in the gaps was much easier. Despite it being your creation, the mere fact that you gave it autonomy only meant it wasn’t always subservient to you. It had its own laws even if you were the very being that gave those laws.

It was a refreshing change, quite frankly. Teyvat treated you like any other mortal and you could see and experience how humanity managed to adapt to the laws of your creation. It was honestly tear-jerking. You may not be the one that introduced humanity — rather it was the one that caused devastation to you and your dragons, but it was nonetheless still an endearing sight that you cherished.

You had to relearn Teyvat’s new history as it began embarking on a journey as a new world, where humans thrived and dominated, where beings in a mortal body but with a higher threshold, power, and purpose called gods were the ones to govern instead of the elemental sovereigns.

Somehow throughout it all, it felt as though your world was no longer yours.

But the waters ring familiarity, as it held your feelings from all those years ago. And now it’s far more potent in the Land of Hydro that you were currently on as you accompanied the blonde traveler that gained infamy across the nations you too journeyed in the past.

You felt for them, much like you before, they had to learn the secrets of this world. Only that they had to do it blind, while you managed to fill in the blanks of the tragic past of this world. And as much as you’d like to play the hero, since your descent after your sleep, you have learned to let everything play out on its own.

“I’m not one to claim superiority over Mister Zhongli’s prowess. Surely he knows far more than I do,” you deny with a genuine conviction. You learned he was the oldest of all archons, and have a better grasp of the world than you do when you were asleep.

“Mm. Let’s just call it quits and say you and him are even!” The tiny floating guide chirped, clapping in satisfaction after her own little conclusion.

You only nodded, conceding to her whims before finding the traveler walking up to you and giving you a serving of fish and chips and a double of serving for Paimon. You thanked them kindly and they only offered you a polite smile and a nod.

“Oh! Right! We should be heading off to pick up some bounty for more mora! Are you coming, [Name]?” Paimon asked, looking at you.

You caught their gaze and shook your head, “I think I’d like to take a walk around for a moment. I’ll see you two in awhile.” You said with the same unwavering smile that offered nothing but fondness for either of the two.

With a nod from them, off they went to Euphrasie to hound her for more bounty and its fruitful rewards.

You walked through the streets, basking in the noise of every call from every vendor within the side of the street, indulging the bustling nature of the busybodies in Fontaine, and savoring the air of nostalgia that perhaps only you can understand and feel.

Your feet halted at the remote parts of Palais Mermonia, admiring the flowers while you embraced the sense of familiarity that coursed through your veins. It was a welcome feeling above all, as it was the same feeling when you first truly experienced happiness.

And what luck it was when the Iudex himself was passing by for a quick break, to take a tiny breather from the suffocating throes of workload that was hurled on him as one of his many responsibilities.

You perked up when you heard a pair of footsteps echo within the cavernous structure of the Palais Mermonia and you looked over your shoulder.

Suddenly, that nostalgic feeling increased and your heart throbbed and ached with so much longing.

Suddenly, the breeze felt like it did centuries ago.

Suddenly, the hard concrete floor felt like the gentle grass beneath you.

And suddenly, the man behind you felt like the bearer of your tears.

You took a moment before facing him and found a smidgen of confusion and surprise that broke through his otherwise stoic expression. You had heard his impartiality and people reveled in him, word of the mouth was that the great Iudex, Mister Neuvillette himself, was the very symbol of Justice in Fontaine.

You didn’t know whether or not it was a wasted chance, but it never occurred to you to even ask if he kept his promise.

To come back with the faintest memories of you.

Instead, you smiled, bowed so gracefully and respectfully to him like any other mortal who have heard of his achievements would.

But you had to give him a few words yourself; just for old time’s sake.

“Look at you now…”

Your voice, much like millions of years ago, held the same sweetness and fondness, honeyed to perfection that it can lull anyone within earshot to a sense of comfort and warmth. Your voice beckoned him to come closer.

And he does.

“You’re thriving so beautifully… living among humanity…”

You could see the way his breath hitch in his throat, and you stifle a tiny laugh and suppressed the nostalgic fondness and love in your heart that was close to bursting at the seams.

“You did well.”

And you left him then and there, like a soft breeze in passing, in search of the traveler and their tiny emergency sustenance, without you knowing, that for once, it wasn’t you who cried.

It’s true, the new Teyvat felt alien to you.

It is no longer your world, but theirs — they, the humanity that staked its claim and lived for generations, they, the creatures that survived every catastrophic event that struck this world, and they… the beings that claim dominion over it.

And as this world’s creator, you would do well to enact the safety of the life it nurtured, even if you were overshadowed by the very being that devastated you.

After all, with all the love in you, it would be hard not to share it with the world you once knew.

[rainingincale]

[itspileofgoodthings]

ALSO I am learning how to teach very introverted students, something my natural skillset as a teacher does not help me with.

[chatdae]

Grace FUMBLED Ryan! BAD parenting to preach respect and then act contrarily (ie saying she wants him to feel safe, then not allowing him any autonomy). She should've let him leave and come back... or at least explained why she didn't want him to leave before deciding (ex: 'Homelander will kidnap you', etc). She needed to let him make the decision for himself... agh. AAAAA.

And now Butcher's no use because he's committed to being evil and can't offer ANYTHING good to Ryan!!! He was so right, they NEEDED to give Ryan more space... I know the external pressures seemed impossible, but dammit, Grace, this was no way to beat the odds!

(this is about The Boys season four)

[simptasia]

being in the DS9 fandom, you'll discover there are so many ways for people to be wrong about julian bashir

[a-shadowedvales]

when jane's powers return in season four (and because they were regained by her confronting and accepting her past, rather than being retraumatised with it!) they're stronger than they ever were. when she starts getting a handle back on them, she very quickly comes to realise not only have they affected her, but her mother, too. one of the biggest losses that came about with her losing them was the fact that she could no longer visit terry in the void; while there was no real communication there, it did allow jane to sit with her, and gain a little more connection than she could in the real world. when she first visits the void after their return, it takes her three hours to find terry, something that is both unexpected and incredibly worrying. but when she does, it's something of a miracle. jane's increased strength and control over the void actually wakes terry up from her catatonic state, but only in the void. there's no way to help her mother physically, but she does do so (unbeknownst to her) mentally. terry is reborn in jane's newfound control over the vale of shadows; she becomes the woman she once was, and while her body remains frozen in a "good dream", her mind connected to jane's own allows her some freedom. jane is able to speak to her mother in the void, is able to be held by her, and while it's still unfair and jane cannot stay in there forever, it's something. this only lasts for about eight months, as each visit slowly begins deteriorating terry's physical and mental state, and jane's health begins declining after spending hours upon hours in the void each and every day.

when jane finds out these visits are actually killing her mother on the outside, she deems to stop, but terry expresses the importance of them being able to speak, that she'd prefer to die on the outside, if it meant she could have just a few months with her daughter like this. terry and jane's connection was always so strong, which ultimately led to terry "waking up" in the void, but even jane's newfound strength cannot save her from the harsh realities. each visit nearing the end of those eight months, terry fades more and more, becomes weaker in the void, and her real body eventually gives up. jane's in the void when her mother eventually passes on, and physically feels their connection weaken, like some part of her suddenly becomes lost in the shadows, a part she'll never find again. jane falls into a depressive state for weeks after her mother's death, given she's technically lost her a second time, but soon comes to realise she was lucky to have even shared those eight months together. it was better than nothing at all. there is a proper burial and funeral, (and when jane dies, she's buried next to her mother) which allows jane some sense of closure. she never fully recovers from losing terry, nor from the fact that she never had a proper relationship with her, but she does eventually find some peace with it all.

[todayisafridaynight]

Since you mentioned it, what did you think of Speak No Evil? I was thinking of watching it myself :0

i really liked it ............ my friend scoffed at me when i told her i was watchin it so take my opinion with a grain of salt tho </3

[adore-gregor]

Yeah whatever but you're still my goat 🐐 either way Gregor 😌

[obeymeow]

being neurodivergent is all fun and games until you remember those hourly quote bots on twitter and think well maybe I can't make a bot anymore but I could schedule a few quotes a day, that shouldn't be hard. it sounds fun to have a bunch of quotes of my favorite character Thirteen from hit mobile game Obey Me! and its sequel Obey Me! Nightbringer. and then you think about how arduous collecting the quotes is going to be but she's only been in the games for maybe a year and a half with little screentime and you love collecting things so you start but then you remember that you love collecting things so naturally you have ALL of her screentime in the game and suddenly you have 45k characters of quotes and are several lessons into season 4 (which is truly a trial in and of itself) but not nearly close enough to the end but you refuse to just stop collecting the quotes and make the account with the EXCESS of what you have already because you literally only have season 4 to get through and if you don't do it just seeing the bot (because now you've been informed you can make tumblr bots instead) will haunt you with that knowledge even if nobody else would ever know. this is a general anecdote of a situation that could easily happen to anyone though and not in any way related to my life