Spongy

I might drop a new chapter this weekend or early, depending on my worsening insomnia.

                    "There, now it matches reality. As usual, you remain my most attentive audience." What made it weird, Y/N seemed relieved. He stepped back, crouched down, and addressed them as though they were fellow philosophers. 
          
                    "Too bad we're not alike. If you could talk, I might even ask for your help. If you could spit some wisdom, I'd probably hit you up for advice. Seems like a common theme, huh? Creatures opening their mouths and spewing crap. But then again, perhaps not. Most talking creatures eventually become disappointing, you're stuck being mute, and I'm stuck being a disappointment to everyone. I believe I can do a favor... for you. Although everyone in this era has been an ass to me since the beginning. But that's hardly unique; we are ever thus. You've seen it yourselves. How they treat your kind: chased away, driven out, hunted, enslaved by the capitalistic Ms. NewBabel... She's a dictator. They speak the word beast with such confidence, and they never see the reflection of themselves: they never stop to consider that the beast may have been them all along. They're the ones who drove you out, who never stopped to question their own savagery."
          
                    The wind seems quite strong today, and he exhales theatrically. "Fortunately for you, Vice President Constantine is currently trapped in a game of chess so elaborate that she has yet to notice Manus Vindictae slipping through the cracks of the institution. I believe the fate is finally on my side, and it has decided to do bidding for me. What a marvelous age, this era is meaningless."
          
          
          The critters continued to play the role of his audience.
          
          
                    The Tempest weighed the ruined painting in his hands. Half of him wondered whether he should continue, the other had already given up. The debate might have continued for another hour had fate not intervened yet again.
          
          
          Or rather...
          
          'She' had intervened.
          
          
          "Fair Esquire, what art thou doeth out here alone?"
          
          

Can anyone confirm that "Collapsible Section" was working on my fanfic (AO3 site version). You can find it on chapter 1.

Which is better—cheap happiness or exalted sufferings?
          
                    Would you rather be a happy cow or a suffering human being? Meaning is not always hidden somewhere in suffering but if suffering arrives anyway, you can choose what to do with it. Happiness when it comes, endurance when suffering comes. 
                    Okay, Greta doesn't care about it anymore. At some point after 1914, she had started leaning more and more toward absolute pragmatism. Her faith in the Foundation's ideals and values and meaning and virtues hadn't disappeared overnight, but year after year—piece by piece, it kept eroding at a slow but gradual pace. Everything they all liked to talk about—a narrative of preserving meaning in a collapsing world felt increasingly distant. At the same time, her nihilism regarding humanity's future was steadily growing; all of it seemed to point in the same direction, and it shows that Mankind was doomed long ago. Arcanists were thriving more than ever, while ordinary humans struggled to keep up and seemed to be sleepwalking toward extinction. The gap widened, and there was no hope left for them, they're finished. It was already over. It is over. IT IS SO OVER, or is it? Perhaps she simply needed to touch grass, grab an iced coffee, and stop doom posting internally for five minutes. 
                    Who knew, not all Field Investigators were alike. Some treated the outside world like their personal playground. They barged in and shoving themselves into history and people's lives, rewrote destinies, interfered with events, and forced all of it toward whatever outcome they deemed necessary. 
          
          In the end, they still submitted paperwork claiming they had merely been "observing." 
          
                    Greta wasn't one of them. She never understood that approach—rather preferred to watch, observe, and record.
          
          Then there was Lorentz Butterfly. Well... That 'Special' Field Investigator.
          
          Marguerite, was it?

Shit, I accidentally deleted the draft (it was a document doc file).
          
          
          BRUHHHH, crap. I have to restart the whole chapter again. WAHHHHHHHH
          

So how was it how was the story any thoughts and what's your opinion about the collector

Hey bro it's a week to release one chapter in the meantime I want to share this story for you to listen 
          https://youtu.be/Tv3HxPcpo14?si=x0Qb1sXsormJmJFr
          After listening to it I want to here you'r thought

"No, I am not leaving."
          
          Phew... 
          
          Her relief is almost palpable—she felt the panic slowly die until he added...  
          
                    "However, I will not be available during the Storm of 1921. You may handle that and everything yourselves." And with that, he simply turned around and began walking away, strolling off as if he was leaving an inconvenient meeting.
          
          
          
          ????!!!!
          
          
          
          Vertin stared at him in utter disbelief.
          
          Why was he walking away already?!
          
          
          
          "I am not finished speaking yet!" She quickly caught up to him.
          
                    Meanwhile, Y/N continued swaggering forward at the speed of a profoundly unbothered gentleman. The Timekeeper moved before he could continue walking. Boldly, almost impulsively, she grabbed the hand he had clasped behind his back—the gesture was enough to stop him. 
          
          He turned his head toward her, visibly confused.
          
          
          
          "What?" he asked innocently. "Is something wrong?"
          
          
          
          The sheer cluelessness on his face irritated her.
          
          
          
          She deadpanned, "Explain yourself. I need clarification regarding your absence during the Storm. What exactly are you planning to do?"
          
          
          
          A polite smile appeared—unbearably calm as always.
          
                     He shrugged lightly. "You said that regardless of circumstance, it remains a choice. Very well. If watching is immoral, then at least permit me the choice to rest. I need time to clear my head while waiting for the arrival of the next era to begin."
          
          
          
          "You are... taking a nap?"
          
          
          
          "What?" He blinked. 
          
                    "Is sleeping morally wrong now as well?" Then came the sheepish grin. "Come now. Everyone enjoys sleeping during rainy weather. Well... perhaps not everyone, but certainly the majority."
          
          
          
          A god taking a nap during a catastrophic phenomenon.
          
          What a ridiculous world she lived in...
          
          
          
          "I am not letting you leave. Not this time."

Ok, I am back—I've never been so happy :D

When you Lowkey drop the fic for personal character development (that's mean life) and see the amount of peak that this mad lad makes in months (you should write a original book by this point gawd damm):