#and to repeat: I AM NOT SAYING THEY ARE ~STUPID~

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [wlw][mdni][tw: spiders][hints of prior canoodling][betrayal][maybe a bit of angst?][flashing][slight exhibitionism?][hatefuck, maybe][fingering][oral (f! rec)][rekindling][strap-on mention]

The air's just a bit warmer in the Arachnology Department than it is in the rest of the faculty building. There's a distinct scent of plants and almost the metallic smell of floor cleaner, mingling with the undertone of that soft, almost sweet scent that Natasha's come to associate with you.

Her heels click against the tiled floors, the white catching the glimmer of the overhead lighting, dimmed to perfection and she looks around at the various glass tanks, filled with various foliage and soils, all to make the little creepy crawlies comfortable.

She tries not to wince at the way fuzzy paws tap against the glass, eight distinct taps following one another.

And she focuses on the tiles instead.

Despite the fact that she doesn't really have a fear of spiders, this many make her uneasy. She can feel eyes. Far too many eyes, following her movements as she tries to navigate her way through the winding pathway.

"Viewing hours are closed." Your voice is bored, a monotonous hum as you continue to hold your hands in the little holes of a tank, gaze focused on the arachnid that creeps across your thickly gloved fingers. Magnifying glasses rest on the bridge of your nose.

"I am not here for viewing hours." Natasha's voice is quiet, her arms folded across her chest as she moves to stand just a bit closer, near one of the other tanks and she tries to ignore the way several jumping spiders come to stand near the glass, eyes peering up at her inquisitively.

You inhale sharply, eyes fluttering shut as you try to centre yourself, pulling your hands out of the tank-attached gloves, and you spin in your chair, hands laced in your lap.

Your expression isn't welcoming. Not in the slightest.

Doe eyes hardened and accompanied by furrowed brows, glossy lips pressed into a thin line and the way your jaw clenches makes her just a bit nervous. You've never looked at her that way before.

"What do you want?" Your question is blunt. Manicured nails tapping on your knuckles, and you stare at her. Hardened gaze unwavering.

"I don't want—"

"You always want something." You interrupt. "That's the thing with you people."

Her expression falls, indifference turning into something cold, and she takes a step forward, booted heels clicking against the tiles.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Spies. S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Gingers." You hum. "Take your pick."

You glance back towards the spider in the glass case, long, wiry legs carrying it along the soil-cluttered bottom before you stick your hands back into the gloves, wiggling your fingers.

And you hum, lips curling into a soft smile as it clambers into your palm.

And you coo. "Natalia," your voice is sweet, "the only one of your name that doesn't lie and trifle like a man."

And you glare at Natasha over your shoulder, before you trace your finger over the enlarged abdomen, tracing along that distinct red marking.

"You're being a child." She rolls her eyes, dragging one of the chairs, metal legs screeching as they're dragged along the floor before she drops into the seat, rather unceremoniously.

"I swear to God, I will throw this spider at you." You grit back.

"And I'll stab it." She retorts. "I'll stab your precious little Natalia and I'll make you eat her."

And your scowl deepens, before you're setting the arachnid on a leaf, and you slump in your seat.

"Just tell me what you want." You exhale. "I don't have the time for your long-winded bullshit of lies and cat shit."

"Cat shit?" She repeats, a dark, wine red brow raising at your words and she crosses her legs over one another.

"I can't say 'bullshit' twice." You answer with a huff. "It just sounds stupid, then."

Crimson painted lips form an 'o' shape, before she lets out a quiet hum, ice blue eyes glancing towards the various display cases before she meets your expression again.

And she lets out a breath.

"I'm here to apologize." Her accent is thick, something so velvety that it makes you nearly blind to the four years that you were just part of a deeply, undercover mission. "I shouldn't have... Dragged it on, for so long. I should've been honest, and I shouldn't have involved you in something I didn't need to."

And your lips press into a line, your nails digging into the flesh of your biceps as you fold your arms over one another.

"I'm sorry, kukolka." Natasha whispers softly. "Prostite menya?"

"I don't speak Russian, Natasha."

And she sighs. "I'm asking for your forgiveness." Her tongue brushes across those porcelain teeth, perfect, perfect. Incisors just a bit elongated and she purses her lips.

"Please."

And you hum, lips pursed almost pensively, your nails tapping against your lab coat before you sigh.

"You know," your shoulders go slack, "my therapist —yes, I go to therapy now, thank you for that— but, my therapist said that I need to... Practice letting go. Of anger, of regret, of all those... Negative emotions. You know?"

And you inhale sharply.

"But colour me a petty bitch, because I hold onto hate. I hold onto the fact that we dated for two years and were engaged for another two, and I hold onto the fact that you left me with a fucking note saying, 'goodbye, wish you well', like a fucking cunt. So, you know, I'm a hater." And your fingers lace.

"So, no, Natasha, if that's even your real name—"

"Why wouldn't it be my real name?"

"Because you're a pathological liar. You lie for a living. You have a lie-festyle." And your eyes narrow. "You lie. And I can't believe I let you water my plants."

Natasha doesn't know what stings more. The fact that that's not even a euphemism for the sex, or the fact that she actually watered your plants.

She spent sunny mornings in your arms, and chilly evenings bundled in your covers, watching you moisturize in the doorway of your en suite while you rambled about work. She spent Saturdays listening to you talk about spiders for hours, only for the words to die on your tongue once she tilted her head that specific way.

She's never seen 45° make someone so shy before and she'd abuse it every time, watching you get facts wrong about your literal passion just because of the way she'd watch you.

"You didn't have to do all of that, Natasha." Your voice is quiet. "I wasn't involved in your ridiculous fucking mission, in any way."

There's a tinge of pain in your voice, your brows furrowed and you don't meet her gaze.

She extends a booted leg, hooking her foot around the base of your chair before tugging you closer to her, and her hands cradle yours, and your eyes flicker to hers.

Glacial blue, framed by long, fluttery lashes, accompanied by the sharpest wing you've ever seen eyeliner make and she brings your hands to her lips, pressing kisses to your knuckles.

"How can I make it up to you, solnyshko?"

"You can't." You pull your hands back. "What you did hurt. You can't just fix it."

You swallow the lump in your throat.

"Can you leave now, please?" Your voice is soft. "It's feeding time."

⊹♡🕷️♡⊹

Your slippers shuffle against hardwood floors, brows bunched into a frown and your hands grip the edges of your fuzzy gown.

It's nearly 1AM.

Your expression's pulled into a frown at the sight of Natasha's face in the peephole, and you huff out a breath, unlocking your front door, arms folded over your chest as you glare up at her.

Those stupid heels always give her a few inches more.

"What—"

You're cut off by the rustle of her coat as she pulls it open, flashing you for a good long while.

Vibrant red hair falls flawlessly, bangs framing her face in that way that makes her look like a 50s Hollywood starlet, brilliant blue eyes staring at your expression, your gaze roving over her like you're taking screenshots with your mind.

The only thing Natasha's wearing other than that fucking coat, are those black, platform heels.

Alabaster flesh, sculpted like a fucking model. All leans muscles and perfect swells.

Nipples hardened by the nighttime breeze, her belly flat and toned, the dip of her waist is something that should be studied by the way it pulls your eyes.

Long legs, toned.

And you scoff. "I'm not a man! I'm not just gonna forgive you, because you're flashing me."

And you slam the door shut. Abruptly and loudly.

Natasha lets out a heavy breath, her hands braced on her hips, keeping the lapels of her coat spread and she glances up, towards where that pretty lantern above your front door dangles.

And you open the door back up, phone in hand, before you snap a picture.

And you suck your teeth.

"Do you have clothes in your car?" You fold your arms over your chest, the fabric of your ratty, and worn My Little Pony T-shirt. And Natasha shakes her head.

If there's one thing she knows she can bet on, it's that you're soft.

"You're leaving in the morning." You step out of the way, your jaw clenched at the way Natasha hangs up her coat on the coat rack, her heels clicking against the wooden floorboards and she moves towards your kitchen.

Your eyes follow the curve of your back, that delicious curve in her spine that you'd trace absentmindedly as she slept. The way her hips move, the curve of her peachy ass and the way the cold had rendered the pale flesh just a bit rosy.

Natasha looks around your kitchen, taking in the homey decorations before she opens up your fridge, taking one of the water bottles and she opens it.

Gaze fixed on yours as she brings it up to her lips.

"Are you gonna put your tits away, at any point?" You're trying to be steadfast in your words. That you're not easy. That you won't forgive her at the drop of a stupidly expensive coat.

But you are, in fact, no better than a man.

Eyes lowering to the way how her breasts sit so pretty, that it's unfair. You remember how perfectly those milky swells would spill out from between your fingers, warm to the touch and you tear your gaze away.

"It does not look like you want me to, malyshka." She hums quietly, before moving around the granite counter, setting down onto one of your sofas, legs crossed over one another but that doesn't stop you from catching a glimpse of glossy folds and you swallow hard.

"I'd prefer it." You grit back.

This isn't what you need right now. You had evening plans. Good plans.

Risk salmonella and eat cookie dough by the spoonful, while binging yet another home renovation show and allow your ego to gaslight you into thinking that, if you had that budget, you'd be able to do it better.

And top the night off with a leisurely bean-flick session and fall asleep watching 'Angels of Passion'.

"Do not stifle me, kukolka." She hums softly, pushing herself up before she comes to stand in front of you, and you catch that whiff of Prada and leather. It's a smell you'd never think you'd miss, but the feel of her warm palm, resting along the curve of your cheek...

It makes an ugly longing burn in your belly before your brain stifles it.

And you scowl.

"My love," her voice is soft, and that stupidly sexy accent makes your brain turn to mush, "let me atone. I can fix it, if you let me."

You suck your teeth.

You're not a whore. You're not a whore. You are NOT a whore. And yet—

"I don't want eye contact."

⊹♡🕷️♡⊹

When you said, 'no eye contact', you thought it'd be easy. Like, how you avoid eye contact in every social interaction ever, instead, choosing to focus on the spot between peoples' foreheads but right now?

All you want is to look down at Natasha.

To watch the way those slim, dextrous fingers disappear into your soaking cunt, silver rings and diamonds kissing your plush lips with each pump of her digits, fingertips pressing against that spot that you've never managed to reach yourself.

Your lips part, your chest heaving with a deep breath and your lashes flutter, eyes threatening to roll back in your head and your hand reaches out.

You refuse to look at her.

"What are you trying to touch, Stevie Wonder?" There's amusement in her voice, and you can hear the curl of your lips, and on instinct, you lift yourself onto your elbows, eyes narrowing at her despite the way your belly dips inward when she scissors her fingers.

You're slow. You don't look away quick enough, your eyes meet hers and you feel like the wind's knocked out of you.

Glacier blue just a bit darker, stormier, rimmed (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠) by a deep, cerulean hue, flecks of silver around the iris and pupils blown wide as she watches you. And she swallows, her tongue brushing along her bottom lip.

And you feel all those buried feelings bubble up to the surface when she dips her head down between your supple thighs, pink tongue darting out and dragging between your glossy folds.

"Ho-holy shit..." Your voice is a panted breath, your hand moving to rest on the crown of her head, sinking your fingers in gingery strands and you drag your nails along her scalp. And she purrs.

And you're fucking gone.

Gone in the way she watches you like you're art, gone in the way her fingers curl and you soak her digits down to her knuckle and you're gone in the way her plush, pillowy lips wrap around your clit, suckling so sweetly.

"You taste so sweet, malyshka." She croons, lapping at the slick of your cunt and your thighs tremble.

You can't come up with a snarky retort about your personality still being salty, you can't even call her by her born name, Nata-liar. A play on Natalia.

You can only melt further into your mussy sheets, pushing silky tresses out of her face as she pushes you towards an orgasm that makes the stars behind your fluttering eyelids turn into supernovas.

Your thighs press against her ears and all you can hear is your whines, her muffled coos and praises, and the thrumming of your heart pounding right next to your tympanic membranes.

You try to piece yourself back together. You really do. She doesn't deserve to feel like she's shattered your world, but her tongue's so long. Dragging along your slick, burying her face between your thighs and she's already lacing her sodden fingers with yours.

Leisurely licking long strokes along your slit, from the bottom, all the way up, her gaze remaining fixed on yours. Like she wants to watch your walls crumble.

Like she wants you to fall in love all over again.

She lifts her head, stormy gaze fixed on your face, the lower half of her face glistening and she presses her lips against your thigh, before sinking her teeth into the flesh.

Sucking hard enough to leave a hickey in her wake.

Before she pulls away, tucking a crimson strand behind her ear, glinting piercings on display and she inhales the scent of your cunt, lashes fluttering and her cheeks turning rosy.

"I've got a strap-on in my car." She whispers softly, her accent seemingly thicker and it takes you a good couple of seconds before her words register.

"You have a strap but not a change of clothing?" Your voice cracks, you're breathless and your skin's tingly, electricity buzzing in your legs.

And she hums.

"Priorities, kukolka, priorities."

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[dumplingsjinson]

List of “smartass x dunce (and they fall in love!)” prompts

Requested by: Anonymous Request: “HELLEOEODLIDOWIDLDIXO. may I request ‘smartass paired up with fucking idiot for a project and then they fall in love’ ? I love your prompts kiss kiss”

“Did you even understand what the instructions were?” “Well, not really, but I know you’re smart so I’m just kind of relying on you.”

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do that!” “Stop yelling at me and tell me how to do it, then!”

“If you don’t want to fail this, you might want to do it my way.” “You sound like a dictator.”

“You don’t have to be an asshole to get your point across.” “In what way is calling you out on your shit job done me being an asshole?” “That’s exactly what I mean!”

“Can you stop bossing me around? I can manage to do this without your help!” “Well, you’re not really showing you’re capable of that, are you?”

“You know what, just leave this whole thing up to me.” “No, but I actually want to help-” “Well, your contributions are actually kind of making things worse.”

“…That’s not what that means, look at the dictionary.” “I did! I swear that’s the definition on Urban Dictionary.” “Urban Dic- oh, for fuck’s sake-"

“This is how you do it.” “…Ohhhh-"

“I’m not that stupid, and you’re not that smart. You’re just acting like a know-it-all, maybe that’s why you don’t have friends.” “Well, that- I don’t need friends.”

“Oh… Your writing’s kind of cute.” “Oh? Uh, thanks.” “Yeah, well, I do compliment people when they deserve it.”

“See! I just needed a demonstration so I can do this myself!” “Yeah, I’ve repeated this like… Ten times now but sure, if it finally helps then that’s my goal reached, I guess.”

“Gosh, here, let me do that for you.”

“You know you can ask for help when needed, right?” “Yeah, well, you don’t exactly make yourself approachable.”

“I’m not sure what’s happening, but you seem more patient with me now.” “Oh… Am I? That's false, why would you even say that?”

“I do like being told I’m doing a good job.” “Oh, so I should do that more often?” “…Are you flirting with me?” “No, you idiot- what? Focus on the work, goddamn it, letting one compliment get to your head like that…”

“That… Was decent.” “You know complimenting me more than that isn’t going to kill you right?”

“Do you use your brain to think or…” “Why would I need to do that when I have you here?”

“Your dumbassery is infecting me.” “Well, you know what they say. Great minds think alike.”

“Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought.” “That’s a huge compliment coming from you.”

“We should probably see each more outside of this project.” “…Say that again, I didn’t hear you.”

Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation

[troglobite]

i've said it before and i'll say it again

the most head-empty dog in the entire world?

the [cavalier] king charles spaniel

i do not mean this as an insult, and i am not evaluating their so-called "intelligence"

i truly, truly mean that when you look a dog in the face, you can kinda "see" what they might be thinking. sometimes it's "PLAY PLAY PLAY" or "FOOD" or extreme judgment and skepticism or just "love you :)". lol

but when you look at a [cavalier] king charles spaniel.

there is simply nothing. nothing is going on behind that face or those eyes.

they're sweet, capable, lovely dogs. but every single one i've ever met has had absolutely No Thoughts in that head of theirs. they respond to everything as it comes and their baseline is True Mental Silence. absolutely hilarious and incredible. i love their little faces and head empty expressions.

every photo on the AKC website confirms this. their eyes are warm, due to being large and brown and soft and round. but they are empty as fuck. lolol

[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.

[izzyfishie]

i feel like the sgtwt to sg tumblr messenger/pipeline atp 😭

context: now they're accusing people who dislike aliwoo of.. being racist??

the reasoning behind that is "people ship 2015 in-ho with gi-hun and he has a wife!! why not ali and sang-woo??"

(then the comments started saying shit like "it's because he's pakistani!!"

..this feels illogical to me. i feel like accusing people of RACISM for disliking a ship is.. very far. especially for SQUID GAME, the capitalism critique show that canonically has no priority for romance.

i guess it could be read as suspicious? but i really don't think that's people's intentions-

i personally don't fw romantic aliwoo at all for a multitude of reasons. i think they're better off platonically, i can see them being friends but that's it. but that doesn't make me racist wtf

(gonna put out there rq that i'm aware twitter is a cesspool. i personally don't interact with it much apart from grabbing fanart and shit, but it is fun to make rants about the bs going on there.)

[cassiomaximo]

Cough... plas.... plaswoozy..... WIN (desperate)

[stopmyhearts]

fuck Burnout. Fuck Depression

[dearweirdme]

.

[thefaultinoursprinkles]

not to sound like a redditor again but holy fuck it’s actually so annoying to be smarter than most people and it creates actual problems in my life. I have to be so careful about anything I say because even if it’s correct, people my level and above me will feel like I am making them look bad or challenging their authority so every fucking thing I say has to be this careful construction of explaining the same thing over and over again until I can finally lead them to the right answer so they don’t feel like I’m smarter than them.

[songsforthedeaf2002]

my bpd & adhd fighting over which one will ruin my life first

EDIT: i have no idea how total strangers are finding this but please stop liking this if we're not mutuals. what's happening why are strangers here. sorry i'm sure you're nice but please leave me alone

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

Chat, I think I might be getting more depressed lately

[gio-cosmo]

Mannn I wish I had the supplies and general knowledge on how to make YouTube vids it seems so fun 💔 imagine if I could play through persona and yap the whole time…revolutionary

[khihi]

accepting the fact i will do something deeply embarassing at least once a day so when it happens i'm not gonna spiral into self hatred, i'm just gonna go "oop, that's my embarassing thing done for the day! now i can relax about it!" like it's a side quest

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Whumpers, what are your earliest memories?

Mine is from when I was about two or three. I was in a stroller, at my cousin’s Irish dancing recital. After the recital, my aunts were talking down to me in the stroller, and to each other. I was experiencing extreme anxiety because I couldn’t understand what they were saying, when I felt I should have been able to communicate with them like they were communicating with each other. I was also very tired and dazed. I did not cry though… I probably looked normal on the outside.

I also remember when I was about four or five, I went to the beach with my dad and one of his friends. I somehow found my way onto the dock, planted my little rear end on a jet ski, untethered it from the dock, and started floating into the sunset. There was an old lady lounging in a donut inflatable out some way; she said something to me, but I couldn’t understand what she said, despite trying really hard. I’m assuming it was something along the lines of “Oh my god get off that jet ski you’re going to fucking DIE, kid,” but again… couldn’t understand a word of what she said, and got frustrated because she was speaking English (without an accent) and I should know how to understand adults speaking English to me.

At this point, my dad is yelling at me from across the water, and a young lifeguard drags the jet ski back. On land, my dad lectured at me very harshly as he led me back to the car. I didn’t know I had done anything wrong, and was very confused. At some point this guy starts quoting the Bible at me, and the only thing I could pick out were the words (spoken very emphatically), “Your days are numbered.”

“My days are numbered?” cue a vivid mental image of a calendar, with dates listed for every day of the week, “What does that mean?” Later on I figured out this was the Bible’s way of referencing death at God’s hand which just made me even more confused as to what I did, until at age thirteen, I figured out, “Oh a baby who can’t swim floating on a jet ski is terrifying, actually.”

Tagging: @kaleidoscopr @redd956 @hereissomething @astudyinpanda @c0ldbrains @straight-to-the-pain

[amystarrstuff]

i am the only one on this planet with correct opinions about that fictional character.

[wookgerine]

Love that they take Bella with the gym with them all the time