#my mind is connecting dots that are not even on the same piece of paper

[oh-men-of-dark-and-dismal-fate]

Since Billy Bibbit and Charles Lee Ray were both played by the same actor, I propose an AU where Billy did not die in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, but dissociated with his real personality and crafted a new one. When he finally signed himself out of the ward, he left Billy behind and walked out as a new man. He walked out as Charles Lee Ray. He traded one prison for another.

[vvanillal]

𓄹⠀𓈒⠀ㅤׄ Forbidden Desires꣑ৎ 𓄹⠀𓈒⠀ㅤׄ

Summary- You and Harry were supposed to be ‘Causal’.

Warnings- Harry Potter x F!Reader, Angst, Smut, Jealous!Harry, Possessive!Harry If You Squint, Fingering, Eating Out

Word Count- 2.6k!

A/N- AHHHH ANOTHER HARRY SMUT. I loved writing this one. Also don’t mind that the reader is a Slytherin 2 fics in a row. MY REQUEST ARE OPEN

It was a secret: you and Harry. You’d both made a promise to each other not to say anything. You also made another promise: no strings attached. It was hard, truly. Especially since it had been Harry. He could have any woman he wanted, and for some reason he chose to be… something, with you.

At first, it went fine. You could even say it was the happiest you’d been in a while; sneaking around with Harry. He would do sweet things, like pass you notes in classes you shared. ‘You look beautiful today,” one had read. That day, all you did was curl your hair; you hadn’t even put makeup on. Then, it became something he would just do. You were sure people noticed in class, when you’d giggle to yourself with a little piece of paper in your hand. You’d just be walking in the hallway some days, and feel someone pull you into a darkened corner. Harry, or you, were never even sure it was ‘safe’, but you never heard any talk about it. So you kept doing it. After every class, you looked forward to feeling a hand jerk you away from the crowd. He’d push you against the cold, brick wall, pressing himself against you as close as possible. His lips would nip at your neck, trying not to leave marks. Your breath would be heavy as you tried to be as quiet as possible. “Harry, we’re going to be late,” you’d whisper. “I just need to feel you for a few more seconds,” he’d whisper back, his lips parted against your collarbone. Each time, he touched you like he hadn’t in days. Harry craved you, all day every day.

Just like you expected though, the happiness didn’t last long. Soon, it became apparent that for Harry, you couldn’t breathe in the same direction as another man. You could tell when he was mad; you could see it in the way his stare was hardened with yours, and you could feel it in the way his touch was rough enough to leave bruises. “Harry? I know you’re upset, so tell me what’s wrong,” you said one day. You watched as he slammed his books shut and shoved them into his backpack; everyone else cleared from the classroom. His leg had been bouncing the whole class, and his fist was clenched on top of the table. He clenched them so hard his knuckles had turned white. “Don’t act dense, Y/N.” You watched as he stormed out of the classroom, leaving you to dwell. That had been the first time he’d genuinely been upset. It didn’t take you long to connect the dots, realizing the pattern. He’d only act like this when he caught you socializing with another man.

This particular time though had left the two of you not talking for days. You and Neville talked a little too much at dinner, apparently. And apparently Neville fixing your hair after it was sticking up, was too much. You weren’t going to listen to Harry criticize him when he was one of your friends. Once you admitted Neville had been one of your friends, he stormed off to his bedroom. He hasn’t talked to you since, Harry.

You didn't know when Harry was going to talk to you, but by the looks of it, he hadn't planned to. You watched him from the end of the Slytherin table as he flirted with Ginny. Sure, he had always been flirty with other girls; because of course, you two were casual. But he hadn’t flirted like this. He was touchy, way too touchy. And he walked Ginny to every class, and you were sure you had seen them kiss. Or they were about to, you looked before you could watch the rest.

The truth was, Harry wasn’t casual to you. You had feelings for him, real feelings. Countless nights you had cried over his hurtful actions, and then the next day he was sweet. It was a never ending cycle. It wasn’t like you could talk to people about it; you truly kept the secret, not even telling your best friend. You could never bring yourself to tell Harry how you felt, because you were sure he didn’t feel the same. You were sure he just thought of you as casual.

It had been exactly a week, today, since you and Harry had spoken. And you are certain now that he didn’t give a shit about you anymore. It was going to be hard, going to watch the Quidditch match later, and acting like you didn’t support him. Harry knew before whose side you were on, whether or not you were in a different house or not. But that’s what you did; you went to the Quidditch match and pretended you loved that Gryffindor was losing.

The match was intense. It had always been this way for Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor, but today was just different. Harry wasn’t playing like he normally would. He seemed slower on his broom, and he still hadn’t caught the snitch. You couldn’t stop watching him, because every once in a while, his eyes would meet with yours in the stands. The match halfway over, and still neither of the seekers had caught the snitch. But then, Harry spotted it, and he was after it. The opposing seeker was right on his tail though, following him intently. Harry reached out and tried to grab the snitch, but he missed. The Slytherin seeker took a shortcut, suddenly, and cut off Harry. Apparently Harry wasn’t watching very well though, because they bumped into each other. And apparently he wasn’t holding on very well either, because he’d fallen from his broom. The Slytherin seeker smirked, and was off after the snitch once more. You let your hand cover your mouth, listening to the eruptions of whispers around you. You stood on your tippy toes to see Harry sitting on the ground, his hand covering the right side of his forehead. He was okay. He’d just gotten a cut it looked like. You couldn’t resist going to check on him though, even if it was just a little cut. You saw him get up from the sandy ground, and found yourself pushing between people. “Excuse me, sorry- Excuse me,” you said as you made your way across the stands, watching Harry go back into the Gryffindor locker loom. The game looked to be resuming though.

You looked behind you to make sure no one was following you into the locker room, and you saw Harry sitting on the bench with a paper towel against his cut. He looked up, seeing who walked in, and his eyes softened for a split second at the sight of a worried you, and then turned into a glare. It was beginning to be a classic for him. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here, Y/N,” your name was like poison escaping from his lips. “Harry please, don’t act like this.” That’s all you could say, it was the only words you could find. You hadn’t even meant to come off so desperate, but you know you did. He scoffed, flipping over the towel to the clean side. The towel was soaked with blood. “Jesus Harry, let me see,” you said with concern, walking over to him quickly. He didn’t protest, lifting the towel enough for you to see. It was a nasty cut, small, but nasty. You looked around the room for anything as you saw a door with a first aid kit hanging on it. “Come here,” you said, grabbing his wrist. He stood up, but jerked his hand back. “I’m not fucking incapable of walking,” he snapped. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t.

The room was small, a little bit bigger than what’s considered to be a large pantry. Backed up against the back wall was an infirmary bed, with 2 chairs beside each end. And behind the door was a sink, with a cabinet above it. “Sit down,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit off the door, closing it and walking over to the sink. You looked through the cabinet for sterile saline to clean his wound; unmistakably feeling his eyes watching you. You found the saline, and gauze along with it. You stood between his legs, dabbing his wound with the wet gauze. He winced, and his face scrunched in pain. The pushing together of his skin only made it bleed more. “Hold pressure,” you said, and Harry did as you said. You dug through the first aid kid and found wound closing tape, exactly what you needed. You got a new gauze, wetting it with saline again.

“Harry, we can’t keep doing this,” you broke the silence, trying to get the wound to stop bleeding; “I can’t keep doing this,” you rephrased. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, his eyes locked with yours. “I know you don’t give a shit anymore. It’s been obvious for a while. I wish you would just end things properly instead of giving me false hope and then continuing to fuck other girls,” your voice was shaky. This was hard. You applied the tape after his wound stopped bleeding, but you didn’t move from your spot. You only backed up to give him room; and Harry still sat on the bed. “What are you talking about, Y/N,” he raised his voice, his eyes darkening. “Oh please, don’t act like I haven’t seen you and Ginny. Don’t act like I didn’t see you kiss her in the hallway. How many more are there that I’m not seeing,” you scoff, arms crossing over your chest to comfort yourself. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, laughing mockingly. That had done it… he’s just pissed you off. “No YOU are ridiculous. We’re supposed to be casual, but I didn’t know that it came with rules. I didn’t know you would get pissed off when I breathed in another man’s direction. This is tiring Harry, truly. I can’t keep doing this and getting hurt,” you were crying now. Whenever he didn’t say anything, you shook your head, “we’re done,” you said. You turned on your heels, ready to walk out.

Just before you could get the door open, you felt Harry grab your wrist, pulling you back and against the wall. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” he said, cageing you between his body and the wall. Then, you slapped him across the face, and you didn’t know why. You hadn’t even thought about it, you just did it. “It’s your fault,” you spat. His hand came up to the side of his cheek, feeling the hotness your hand left behind. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, his hand now coming to the side of your face, letting his thumb caress your cheek. “No you’re not. This was never casual for me, Harry. I feel things for you… I have feelings for you,” you admit, raising your voice in front of a rather calm Harry. You open your mouth to say more, but he cuts you off with his lips against yours. You push him back as quickly as you could, “Don’t you dare. You’re dirty, Harry. It’s untelling how many other people you’ve kissed in the past few days,” you scream, pointing a finger at him. You were kind of being a hypocrite now. He just engulfs your hands in his. “I haven’t kissed anyone else, Y/N. I haven’t touched anyone else,” he says softly, looking at you with equally soft eyes. “Why do you keep hurting me then? And how do you explain Ginny, ” you ask, sniffling. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. I just can’t stand to see you even talking to another guy. I feel nothing for Ginny. I swear it was only to make you jealous. I have feelings for you too, Y/N. Can’t you see that?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You couldn’t even think at that point. You grab his face roughly, smashing your lips against his. He returns the energy, instantly deepening the kiss by squeezing your waist. You feel for the doorknob, locking it. “I’m so sorry,” he said between kisses. “Shut up,” you moan.

He lets his hand slip onto your back, guiding you to the infirmary bed, his lips never leaving yours. Your ass hits the back of the bed, and you moan as his tongue enters your mouth. “Let me repay you,” he says, breaking the kiss just to begin kissing your neck. You moan at his words, “how?” He drops to his knees, looking up at you with big eyes full of desire. You get the message, quickly pulling down your skirt. He groans at the sight of your red, lace panties, “you’re still so perfect,” he whispers. His eyes just looked hungry now.

You throw your leg over his shoulder, letting your thigh rest on the space. You tangle your hands in his hair as he presses a kiss to your clothed clit. “I missed you so much,” you say, lips parting at the sight of him looking up at you. He moves your lace to the side, his wet mouth coming in contact with your clit. You shiver at the coldness, pulling at the strands of his hair, producing a groan from him. The vibrations went straight to your core, causing you to whimper in delight.

This wasn’t the first time he ate you out, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. He loved doing it, and every time he did, he ate you out like it was his last meal. He loved watching your face twist in pleasure, and hearing the sweet sounds leave your lips. It was no different this time.

His tongue worked against your sensitive bud; even more sensitive now from getting nothing for a week. You nearly scream when you feel two of his fingers push past your entrance. “Fuck Harry, just like that,” you whine. Your legs were beginning to become weak from the pleasure. You look down at him and find him watching you, observing the pleasure he was giving you. He curled his fingers in your cunt, and you had to cover your mouth. You feared the people all the way outside, in the stands, would hear you. You bring your free hand up and begin touching your clothed nipples. Harry moaned against your clit at the sight.

“I’m so close, Harry,” you moan, not caring how loud you were being now. He inserted another finger in you, and curled his fingers once more, pushing them in and out. He felt for your sweet spot, until he found it. “Shit,” you moan, throwing your head back. You didn’t know whether to focus on the feeling of his tongue flicking sweetly against your clit, or the feeling of his fingers pulsing into you. Either way, you were close. He knew this already, you didn’t have to tell him. He could feel you clench around his fingers. “I’m gonna-” you came before you could even finish your sentence. “Fuck,” you groan, the feeling of your orgasm overtaking your body. Your legs shook weakly.

After the feeling of your orgasm subsided, you freed your leg from his shoulder, and he stood up, helping you put on your skirt. “Am I forgiven,” he said, a smirk on his face as he licked you off of his fingers. You watch him, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m going to do better,” he said, pulling you closer to him. “You’re forgiven,” you said, smiling. The sound of celebrating Gryffindors could be heard coming into the locker room. Apparently they had made a comeback. How were you going to explain why Harry’s hair was messed up, and why both of you were red, and why you had taken so long for such a small cut, and most importantly why you were in the locker room.

[mentalknot]

Mathematical Memories #1:

TW: Mental Health Topics

During the spring semester of my freshman year at college, I was hospitalized for a mental health emergency, and let me tell you... the worst part was easily the lack of chalkboards in the facility.

Questionable jokes aside, a conversation with a couple friends today reminded me of a brief memory from stay:

As I sat at the small table, trying my best to comprehend the printout of an academic paper my mentor had given me to review at the start of our project, when one of the other patients called over to me,

"Hey math girl, can you explain the Good Will Hunting problem?"

I was quite rusty on the specifics of the film, and also knew better than to claim understanding of what could possibly be a problem on par with some millennium problems (given my vague understanding of the math Hollywood finds interesting). Nonetheless, I told him to find the movie, and I'd try my best.

The rest of the patients gathered around as the man who asked the question, Alan, located the film, and paused the screen so I could see what was written on the chalkboard in one of those early few scenes... graph theory, thank god. The first few questions were as follow:

Find the adjacency matrix A of the graph (the graph had four vertices, not horrible)

Find the matrix giving the number of three-step walks (also not terrible, but ramping up)

Find the generating function for walks from point i to point j. (getting more interesting...)

Find the generating function for walks from point 1 to 3. (similar to the previous question... probably worse)

Although I knew about the core pieces of the questions from my recent combinatorics course, I knew better than to test my chances on 3 and 4. Still, there were people staring at me eager to learn math, and I couldn't disappoint them.

"Have any of you taken a course in graph theory -- networks maybe? No experience needed, just gaging the room..."

Silence. I grabbed a piece of paper and a colored pencil to begin regardless.

"Ok, let's start with the basics: a graph is a mathematical structure built from vertices and edges. Vertices are these 'dots' or 'points' I'm drawing here, and edges are the 'lines' connecting them. If two vertices, say A and B, are connected by an edge, it shows some sort of 'relationship' between A and B."

I scribbled a quick simple graph on the page, and with the group nodding in agreement, moved on to multigraphs, explained that an adjacency matrix is one tool we can use to understand whether any of our vertices share an edge or not, and finally I threw in trees for fun.

Trees got them. They loved trees. Walter, who was a college freshman as well, inquired

"Is there such thing as an 'infinite' tree, like one with infinitely many leaves?"

I'd never thought about such a thing before, but saw no reason why such a graph couldn't exist... and imagined that 'spreading the leaves out evenly' would yield a depiction that looked somewhat like a circle... only one way to check.

We ran over to the communal tablet and started looking up "infinite trees, graph theory" much to the amusement of the nurses on duty for the evening. We never found an image that exactly matched what we head in our minds, but discovered enough to convince us that the idea wasn't baseless. The rest of the group had since dispersed, and Walter and I soon did the same to prepare for sleep.

Reflecting back on that day, I can't help but wonder... what is it about early career mathematicians getting fixated on wacky graph theory ideas?

referencing no personal experience of course...

[qwertyprophecy]

hi !! i recently played storyseeker and really loved it !! i was curious about how you went about designing the story for it ?? was it hard to keep track of all the moving narrative parts ?? how did you decide where to reveal what info ?? hope you dont mind me asking -- i really love your art !! have a great day !!

I'm glad you enjoyed Storyseeker! Old as it may be, out of everything I've made it's still the game I'd most like to make a spiritual successor to.

Answers to narrative design questions after the cut:

It's funny, Storyseeker's design process was so organic that realistically it should've turned into a right mess. But just as organically it lead into design principles that made organising the story a breeze, honestly.

What I mean by organic: As touched upon in this reply regarding worldbuilding, the story kept writing itself as long as I kept asking it questions, so I just let it do its thing. The player is meant to experience the narrative in much the same way, with me imposing as little control over them as possible while they travel as they please and narrate to themselves the story of what they see.

It sounds freeform and terribly unstructured, but I established a principle of design that aims to help the player connect the dots instead of feeling lost in a cacophony of random details. While making the game I called them "paths": routes the player is likely to take or subtly guided to take, that connect together related parts of the narrative. Visually some are literal paths or roads, but they could be anything that the player might follow. Footprints, streams of bubbles, the line of sight of an NPC, the sight of something irregular peeking at the edge of the screen...

A path presents both a question and a direction to go look for the answer. Oftentimes, the exact questions I was asking myself when building the world piece by piece. Where does this road lead? Where are these weasels swimming to (or, approaching from the opposite direction, where did they come from)? What dislodged itself from this hole in the ice and where did it go? What kind of a body are these giant toes connected to? Ie., to answer your question of when to reveal information: when the player asks for the information by moving towards where it's revealed, whether on purpose or unknowingly.

If the player follows the direction they must end up on another path because good answers beget more questions. The single most important design document I had was a piece of scrap paper with a rough sketch of the map and a whole lot of coloured lines flowing across it to mark the paths I was prepping for the player. (Lines, not arrows, since I couldn't predict which direction they'd be traveled in.) By visualising them I tried to make sure none of them stopped abruptly or looped in a circle, and that all the places of interest were covered.

(The biggest exception to this design is of course the dead end of a room that is the game's final area: the temple interior that can only be found by completionists. That's why it "completes" the game by being a narrative dead end, too.)

I genuinely didn't even plan it this way on purpose, but it turns out that it really helps keep track of a narrative when you make a game where webs of cause and consequence are all visually illustrated on a literal map. :D If you're the type of person who benefits from visually organising things, I don't see why you couldn't draw abstracted maps of your narrative even if it's not so visual in nature.

I know I definitely need to do more of that! Just last week I rescued my current project's dialogue rewrite with visualisation and arrow doodles. It had grown into an overwhelming mess of unplanned splitting and rejoining branches and microreactivity, so to have any chance of looking at it without inviting a migraine, I closed the document and instead mapped the whole script into a single page outline of what each conversation is supposed to convey to the player. It's so much easier for me to think about the shape of the story when I can see it in one glance!

[bitterbutblue]

a sunday and robin story

two birds on a wire ☆ robin and sunday alt universe story

~ my friend loves sibling angst so im giving them some sibling angst so they'll be sad

sunday is working to find his sister's killer ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

He had been sitting in the same spot for so long, he may as well be a statue frozen in time. The only sound that echoes through the room is the sound of his fingernails tapping against the whiskey glass. Clink, clink, clink. He swallows dryly, scanning at all the papers that lay out in front of him- the photos, notes, testaments. Everythnig is laid out in front of him and the dots should have connected by now but it's not. None of it is connected. It's like puzzle pieces that each just have a slight edge to them that makes them unable to be pieced together properly.

"Robin..."

It had been fifty three days since he found her body in the bathtub, a massive wound through her chest. Every time he closes his eyes he remembers that scene in front of him. She looked at peace, as if she was asleep. As if the world around her had halted, as if everything had finally decided to come to a rest for just a bit. Sunday remembers screaming, crying at somebody- anybody- to call the cops. He held her body tight in his arms, sobbing into her shoulders. He grips her so tight, he's worried he might break her already fragile body. The cops pried her away from his grasp, leaving him on the ground. His white jacket stained in her blood as he sits and stares. He stares and stares at that spot on the ground where he first found her. In his anger his own vision went white as he teared up everything in his bedroom. He threw his glasses at the wall, smashing each cup and bottle he saw. He tore his bedsheets wide open, he ripped his books in half. The exhaustion in his bones and muscles are nothing compared to the ache he felt throughout his entire body and all he can do is scream. He was not one to let out emotions yet now he can't help himself His own sister was dead.

The police eventually came to a dead end, of all things. They stated that there were no suspects in mind yet he himself could list out at least ten right off the top of his head. So he decided take matters into his own hands and here is he is now.

With each passing day, the possibility of finding the real suspect lowers and lowers.

"Sunday."

Gallagher enters the room, sighing as he catches the stench of alcohol once again.

"That's enough."

"YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH."

Gallagher doesn't even flinch anymore at Sunday's outburst. He just straightens his tie as he stands by the door.

"You- You know nothing. NOTHING."

Sunday's voice is so hoarse he can barely recognise it himself. His words slurred but his anger still evident.

"I wanted you to give up."

His words hit him like nothing. Sunday just lets out an empty laugh.

"Why? Why do I need to give up? Haven't they done that already."

A file is flung onto his table, inside it only containing a single USB.

"What the fuck is this?" He snarls

"What I've been protecting from you."

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY OFFICE!"

He couldn't stand seeing Gallagher's face. Gallagher had been trying to tell him to give up ever since he started his own investigation and he hated Gallagher for that. He watches as Gallagher begins to give up. Gallagher stopped coming in every day to check up on himas Sunday grew more and more restless and irrational. A part of Sunday is sure that he has scared off the one person who has persisted in caring for him over the past month and more and he's been pushing him away. But he couldn't stop himself.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, Gallagher."

He couldn't bear to look at Gallagher in the eyes because he knew that Gallagher would have the same look. The same look every time where he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to hide the pain that can be evidently seen. His face will be stone cold, but behind that Sunday can always tell there is lingering pain that is trying to fight its way out. Sunday grabs at the letter opener that sits near him, pointing it at gallagher and gesturing with it wildly. He is sure that his eyes has the most frantic look, like a madman on the verge of breaking into pieces and crumbling into dust.

"Get the FUCK OUT OF MY OFFICE."

He leaves. He doesn't even want to say anything this time. He doesn't even open his mouth and he walks out of the room, slamming the door.

Sunday stares at the USB that lies on the table. His fingers itch to to grab it and plug it into the nearest computer but a part of him is scared. He's scared to find the truth of what happened to his sister because what will drive him after? Perhaps nothing- perhaps he won't have a drive anymore. and then what?

Yet his body moves without him really thinking about it. He grabs at the USB and plugs it into the computer, clicking into the drive that pops up. Inside was a video file, the name being the date Robin's body was found. Sunday can feel his blood go cold as he hovers his cursor over the video. The room was now dead silent, and he can feel himself trembling so hard his teeth are practically chattering. He takes a deep breath in, but it's shaky. His palms are sweating through his gloves as his free hand grips at the armrest of the chair. His stomach churns uncomfortably, swallowing back his fear as he sighs.

"Fuck."

He clicks onto the video.

The next three minutes were the slowest of his life. He watches in horror as it all is unfolded right in front of him. Hours upon hours of collecting evidence- evidence that he nows sees is completely useless and was never on the right track to begin with.

He watches as Robin greets the person with a smile, before her face shifts into one of panic and horror as the other person lunges with a knife, stabbing into her over and over as she cries.

She cries. She cries out his name in her last dying breath and he wants to throw up.

She cries. She cries out his name in her last dying breath because the figure was him.

He doubles over- unable to even get out of his chair before he throws up on the ground, coughing and gagging as he fears the familiar burn in his throat. His eyes sting with tears as he wipes at his mouth, hearing her wheezes and pleas through the computer from the video he hasn't stopped. He picks up the computer, hurling it across the room as he lets out a horrified scream.

Gallagher must've lied. Gallagher must've made things up- could he have used some form of artificial intelligence? Could he have done this just to get under his skin? No- no that look on Robin's face was far too sincere and far too real for her liking.

"Robin.."

He moves himself off the chair, gripping the letter opener tightly.

"Robin-"

He cries. He cries out her name.

[technotalksnimien]

Techno Conclusion

My fifth blog to comply, but I hope this is not to make. I still want to continue writing my blog that reflects my everyday learnings. As promised, I will have a double update today. Last Wednesday, it was concluded that technopreneurship course for this semester is about to end. I am feeling mixed emotions, happy because it's over and at the same time, sad because it's over. I didn't paid that much attention to our entrep subject in Grade 11. And I must say, I didn't learned a lot as well because it was in modular, and I don't even read modules. I am beyond grateful to encounter technopreneurship as it taught me many things.

1. Small idea makes great good things

Why are we encouraged to pitch our ideas? Is it merely to comply and pass the subject? NO. I have learned that not matter how small, or silly and idea can be, an idea is still an idea. However, an idea itself won't bring you to success. You have to put effort. Like a seedling, it requires ample amount of sunlight, water and care to survive

If you start doubting yourself, you also doubt the things you might do. If you have something in mind, that you think will contribute to the society, work on it, tell others about it, tell them about your plans. Help and money will come along the way. The key to success is your perseverance.

SEED is an acronym for Self-Mastery, Environment Mastery, Enterprise Mastery and Development of Business Plan.

2. Think outside the box

I can still remember it. We had an activity wherein we were tasked to connect the 9 dots without ifting the pen. I wasn't able to do it because I am stressing out how. My classmate figured it out and later on, our professor explained. We must think about the box and do't limit our learnings. We do not only learn in school, but also to outside.

"Think outside the box" means approaching problems and situations in an innovative and non-traditional way, breaking free from conventional thinking patterns. It involves using creativity, exploring unconventional ideas, and challenging existing assumptions.

3. Follow instructions

following simple instruction is very important because if you are not doing it, you cannot run simple programs.

In that activity, we were told to bonly used blue pen, luckily, I have all colors of ballpens in my bag. Then he told us to write our name. I was hesitant at first and I was like, "are we gonna have a surprise quiz?". Then he gave us additional instructions. To write it in all capital letters. Some of my classmates frowned as they get another piece piece of paper and ignored the first one. Then I realized, I should wait for him to finish giving the instructions first before I write on mine. That's it guys, always follow instructions!

4. Trial and error

from my previous blog, I said that I first failed my techno pitch but got it the second time. I almost lost hope but of course, I have to think and try again. Just like what research taught us in junior and senior high school, trial and error. Just don't give up trying. You will only fail if you stop. Using the trial-and-error method is the only way we can truly learn. When we make a mistake or fail at something, we allow ourselves the chance to reflect, make changes, and try again.

5. Love what you do; do what you love

Syeve Jobs said, "Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle."

Love what you do - love it because you are doing it. Do what you love - Do it because you love it. These are two different things, you can be in either of it, or both. I have learned that if we put passion and love in the things that we do, we are bound to have great things ahead. Learning to appreciate yourself, your job, your family and friends is a great facctor in being happy.

I hope that you learned something from me. I am happy that finally, I finished my five blogs. If I have time, and I have something to share, I will surely remember technotalksnimien. Thank you so much!

[minmocat]

alright! here's a more detailed post. you're going to need any digital art program that has two things: 1. layers, and 2. layer effects. being able to apply drop shadows to layers helps a lot, but when i started, i didn't use that and just faked the shadows using multiply layers.

my friend skitty is going to be helping me out. i use the same ol copy of paint tool sai ive been using since 2012, and i do some post-processing stuff in photoshop.

using this sketch, i start off with lineless art with each individual piece of it on a different layer. lineless art's not as scary as it seems! i use my sketch as the lineart & just delete it later. keep depth in mind when you're arranging your layers. things further in the back are going to be towards the bottom, while things closer to the viewer are going to be towards the top. you can draw on details with any traditional brush you'd like.

version with & without sketch for reference. here's what my layers look like. i tried to name them to make them easier to parse!

(that last one is supposed to read "inside of ears + line that connects dots to tail.) the locked layers are from where i drew on details that wouldn't need separate layers - mostly adding the yellow to the head + body.

next, you're going to need pictures of paper. you can find some online, or you can take photos yourself. i switch between stock photos of paper textures and pictures i took of crumpled up paper with my phone camera. you don't need anything too fancy.

here's the stock photo i'm going to use for my example. i use a different picture for every layer to give it more depth & intrigue - if you reuse the same picture over and over, your brain starts to connect that there's a repeating pattern and it can look a little "off".

i'll copy and paste this on top of a layer and apply a layer clip/layer mask. this is called different things in different programs, but if you see it, i'm sure you know what i mean.

i set the layer mode to "overlay", which gives me this:

it changed the color a little bit, so i'll adjust the colors to make it grayscale + a little darker.

(comparing adjusted colors with & without the overlay setting)

then repeat this process for every layer.

ta-da! we have textures! i recommend anyone trying this to have fun with this step. try out layering multiple textures over one part. try out different types of paper. you dont even need to use just paper! what about cardboard? plastic? go nuts!

at this point, i save the file as a .psd and migrate over to photoshop. transparency!

in photoshop, i start applying drop shadows to each layer's layer style. double-clicking each layer, i get to select:

repeat for every layer. you can adjust the settings of every drop shadow to get different depths. i mostly change two settings, distance & size:

a large distance with a large size will make a layer look like it's coming forward more, while a small distance with a small size will look like it's closer to the layers underneath it. compare the head (distance 10, size 9) with the details on the face (distance 3, size 2):

repeat for every layer, and we get:

yay! yippee!

at this point, i start doing post-processing stuff. adjusting colors, contrast, etc. once that's over, i'm all done! ta-daaaa!

hi your paper cutout art style has fundamentally changed my brain chemistry ever since i saw it(like 5 seconds ago) and now the wizards in my brain are melting everything rapidly. can i ask you how you achieve such an edible and fantastic effect

thank you so much! the tl;dr is that it's a basic lineless art style with texture overlays + drop shadows but i can make a more in depth post to explain it more ^_^

[persephonescottage]

PONY | 15.

Pairing: Billy RussoxFem!Reader

Summary: You might get banned from a certain coffee shop.

Warning: References to sexual situations, swearing, obsessive thoughts. Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include stalking, somnophilia, CNC (between two consenting adults), knife play, age gap, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting and other triggers I will include as we go along, please only read if you’re 18+. If any of this warnings trigger you please don’t read.

A/N: Hi guys! Next two chapters are smutty chapters be ready (to judge me lol) only one more chapter for the gala wohoooo!!!!!

Also after this whole BB drama if I’m tagging you and you don’t wanna be tagged anymore let me know I completely understand :)

&

“Here’s your flat white and the brunette barista’s number, at least pretend to look at it this time, he gave me a free bagel as as bribe to give it to you.”

You look up from the table of the coffee shop where your gaze has been stuck for the past twenty minutes. Gianna asked you to come along  to the fitting of her dress for the gala and you hoped it would take your mind away from Blackbird’s call.

You glance back at the bar and there he is.

Green shinny eyes and dimples with a shy smile, you look at Gianna alarmed.

“What is wrong with you?”

“What?”

“Is he even eighteen?”

“He said he was in his twenties!”

“Gianna! That child lied to you, do you want to get me arrested? Throw that piece of paper away and you better put the value of that bagel in the tip jar! My god!”

“I’m sorry! Didn’t realize you were into older guys, since I’ve never seen your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Yeah you do. Murderous and psychopathic.”

The table was suddenly quiet as you debated on telling your friend what happened last night and this morning.

And this afternoon.

“He came back last night Gigi.”

“I know he did.” You look at her surprised and she smiles “Oh please honey I’m not and idiot! Out of the blue you start grinding on poor Henry, who by the way looked like he would pass out from disbelief.”

“We were drunk.”

“You were drunk, he was completely sober after he saw you pull your phone from your bra right in his face, not cool by the way.”

“Couldn’t help it I’m a horny drunk.”

“I know that’s why I thought you were finally gonna do it when you dragged him out of the club after dancing for like ten seconds. I thought you were gonna fuck Mr. Big Check and hopefully poke a hole in the condom and collect a check for the rest of your life-“

“Lower you voice Gigi!”

She’s practically yelling in the coffee shop and you’re afraid someone will connect the dots and you’ll embarrass yourself in deuxmoi next.

“But next thing I know he’s calling me at nine in the morning to see how you’re feeling and what kind of soup you like better when you get a cold. Poor thing I had to convince him I had already brought you food.”

“In my defense I did consider sleeping with Henry last night.” You admit mumbling to your friend before sipping on your warm paper cup of coffee. 

“But?”

“But then he fell asleep on the way to Brooklyn and he just looked so… so… so rich!”

“Oh you’re a snob!”

“No I don’t mean it like that! He just looked so clean, so pretty you know, so Brad Pitt. Just perfect.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Can we not talk about him in public? I’m getting paranoid?”

“Ok, let’s talk about Blackbird. No one knows him.” She finished with a mouth full after bitting her bagel “Not even you.”

You give her a mean look.

But she’s right.

“Did he say why he left?”

“No.”

“Did he say where he was?”

“No.”

“Did you meet him formally.”

“I was in the same room as him.”

“So you saw him.”

You’re silent and the loud conversations in the establishment suddenly feel like they’re drowning you. Gianna raises a quizzical brow at you and you know she’s waiting, judging you by how long your answer is taking.

Why wont you answer?

Because you don’t know how to.

“What happened last night babe?”

“He came over.”

“When you were still drunk?”

“Yeah.” You omit the cupcake detail, her judgement is making you feel two inches tall already, you don’t wanna fuel her. “We talked on the phone while I was still pretty drunk and I called him a coward and I asked him to come over and he did.”

“You’ve got a death wish. Did he wear the mask?”

“No, but he turned the lights off.”

Gianna laughs and you can’t help but laugh with her because your story sounds pretty stupid to yourself too. 

“Did you play hide and seek too?”

“He ate me out.”

The laughter stoped abruptly and you could hear the way your friend gulped loudly her coffee. Her eyes where big in surprise and you couldn’t read her expression. Maybe you finally crossed the line, maybe her traditional Italian upbringing would finally come through and she would stop being your friend.

“You fucked a man you’ve never seen?”

“No we didn’t fuck. He ate me out.”

“You sucked his dick?”

“No!”

“He ate you out and left? Just like that? Asked for nothing in return?”

“Took my panties. Left me a sweater, pretty sure it’s the one he was wearing last night and he fixed my AC, thank god cause I’m sure my landlord was never going to do it.”

“Did you come?” She was so serious.

“Gigi.” You face was serious too and you took your friend’s hand on top of the table. “That man ate the soul out of my body and I don’t think I got it back.”

“! fucking hate you!” She laughs. “I date and do everything right and you get a handy man that gives your orgasms and fucks off? That’s so unfair!”

“Listen, here’s the important part, I asked him if I could touch his face and he said yes and I felt a scar.”

“The one you saw on his neck at the dumpster.”

“Could be connected or could be two because this one was near and on, or around his nose too. Could that help us?”

“Oh so I get he isn’t gonna tell you who he is?”

You feel your shoulders sag. 

“I called him this morning to thank him for the AC.”

“And the orgasm” she smiles.

“And the orgasm.” You smile too “And I told him about Henry inviting me to the gala and he said he would prefer I wouldn’t go with him.” You put a little make up on the truth to make it sound nicer for your friend. “But then I waited for him to say he’d go with me and he said nothing.”

“Why didn’t you ask him to go with you?”

“It’s not lady like.”

“Oh so you can ride his face but you can’t ask him to a black tie event. Classy…”

“I didn’t ride his face…” you mumble. 

“Let’s go. They’re waiting for us at the fitting.” You see your friend pick up her bag and stand from her chair. “I can’t believe i have to get this dress altered because Mr. Russo wants me to specifically work the door, he’s like obsessed with me or something.” 

“Well maybe his hot friend Frank Castle did talk about you…” 

“Don’t get my hopes up.” She laughed “Call Blackbird and ask him, you’re one of the lucky ones Billy Russo doesn’t have in a ridiculous position at the gala, who knows, maybe he can get the full pussy experience at the after party.”

Jesus, you were never going back to this coffee shop.

Tag list: @bxtchopolis | @wheresthesunshinesblog | @adriennebarnes | @restingbitchsblog | @sm2324 |@fruityfucker | @ruleroftides | @lilacs-lavender | @dragon-of-winterfell | @virginsvicide | | @spear-bearing-bi-witch | @iiirhiane-g | @simpforbuckyb | @snowkestrel

[oh-holy-slut]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, blood sharing, mentions of death, oral sex

Word Count: 2,6k

Summary: Stefan forced Damon to try his animal diet. Damon hated it, but didn't had a choice... until Reader makes a suggestion. Suddenly things get steamy.

Being with Damon was complicated. Him and Y/N have seen each other a lot in the past weeks. The two of them had a lot of fun; saw a lot of movies. Actually, Y/N was sure Damon secretly hated many of those. However, anytime Y/N suggested another dramatic, romantic cliché movie like "Last Song" - the vampire groaned, put his arm around her shoulder, let her head rest on his chest and endured every single second of the movie of her choice.

Damon even flirted and teased Y/N here and there, but didn't lead to anything more intimate so far.

Today was another of those days. Y/N stuck around at the Salvatore boarding house, brought a few of Damon's favorite groceries and a bunch of movies, of which she thought that they will suit his taste. Even if they were a little to bloody and brutal in her opinion.

"Pick one!", she demanded, holding all three Blu-ray sleeves in front of him. Damon just shrugged, not bothering to even look.

"Don't be a killjoy, Damon Salvatore!" Y/N sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong or pick a movie. You've got no choice. And besides that... Which number of drink is this?" Y/N frowned, pointing at the liquor in her friends hand. Damon usually consumed his beloved bourbon with pleasure.

But the man on the couch didn't seem pleasured at all. His facial features totally hardened and a look in his eyes like he was ready to rip someone's heart out.

You put the disc's back in your handbag, closing the zipper and put the bag on the floor.

"Fine. No movie night today. Who are we going to kill?"

A small smirk appeared on Damon's lips, finally looking towards Y/N.

"Stefan and his hero hair. He made me go vegetarian... well, for a vampire... and I can't get myself to eat one of those chipmunks, bunnies or bambis." He shook himself with disgust.

"And why did he count you in? You clearly aren't excited about the changing... So, why did you agree?"

"He said, he would kill me, which is kinda funny. But-" Damon made a wide gesture "he stole my daylight ring. And he wouldn't give it back until I stop feeding on innocent people - and kill them."

"So, you truly let your younger brother blackmail you like that?! Wow... I don't know how to feel about your dieting or your new path. Or whatever this is supposed to be."

"You don't like me killing people either", Damon maintained, while taking another sip of bourbon.

"Well, I don't", Y/N agreed, took a step forward, stole the glass from the vampires hand and put it on a small table nearby. "But I don't believe in forcing as a method to get people to change their minds. I believe that change for the better must be an intrinsic motivation," she added quickly, giving the vampire an innocent smile.

Damon's lineaments suddenly turned from annoyed to curious. "Any suggestions, little one?" The vampire raised an eyebrow and a little smirk showed up on his lips. On the one hand, Y/N blushed over the nickname, Damon called her.  On the other hand she felt skittish looking forward to making a deal with him. Not only a deal. It's far more than a simple agreement.

It's Y/N, actually giving Damon a part of her. The red elixir of life. She was about to give him total control of her body and she not even for a heartbeat doubt that Damon will use it against her.

"Actually... Yeah. There's something on my mind." Y/N said chewing on your lip. "I could open up a vein for you. I mean, you could feed on me. And since you have my permission, there's nothing for anybody to have objection about."

Damon frowned and gave her an incredulous look. "You would do that for me?" The vampire couldn't believe, he understood correctly. Why would Y/N want to get involved with him feeding on her? What's in it for her? Damon tried hard to connect the dots, but he wasn't able to. It all seemed to make no sense. Y/N wouldn't have an advantage of that. The vampire hesitated, pinning his dangerously blue eyes on the girl in front of him.

"Is it so suspicious of me, that I'm trying to help my closest friend?" It pierced Y/N's heart, realizing, Damon's trust in her was rather fragile. "Never mind", she waved the pain away and forced herself to keep her composure. "I only had a hasty idea; you really don't need to fee-"

Suddenly Damon appeared behind Y/N, using his vampirism. "Shhhh", he whispered softly. "I never said, that I don't want your blood. I'm thinking about if we are going to cross a line? Blood sharing can be very personal..."

"It can be? It is personal already. Believe it or not - I'm not gonna offer my veins to all the vampires of Mystic Falls." Y/N rolled her eyes, her arms folded on her chest to point out the indignation she felt right now.

"Kinda sensitive today, huh?" Damon gently stroke a strand of hair behind her ear, Y/N could hear this smug smirk through his words. It was a true 'Damon thing' to do. "I didn't mean it like that, princess." He sighed; unsure if he should agree or not. Damon didn't want to act selfish towards Y/N. He compelled a lot of girls for the purpose of drinking blood in the past. He literally used them as long as they weren't too annoying - and then he acted like they have never met. Damon Salvatore couldn't imagine this scenario with Y/N. They've been so close, the vampire couldn't stand loosing her. The offer was risky, but it also could bring each other even closer.

Damon tried hard to avoid any serious attraction between Y/N and him, afraid of messing up. Indeed, he found himself thinking, and even dreaming, about Y/N more than he wanted to admit. She was smart and had this special sense of humor, the vampire adored so much. She was the only one, who could make him feel good no matter what. Needless to say she had that glimmer in her eyes, when she did something she truly loved. In these moments she was even more pretty. Y/N was hard to resist.

And maybe now he could have her like nobody else. At least the vampire gave in. He wanted her blood. He wanted her.

Y/N flinched by the feeling of Damon brushing her neck with his lips.  "Oh, Damon", she gasped. "Bite me." Y/N almost begged for the vampire's teeth breaking through her skin. Damon loved the sound of her husky voice. In less than a heartbeat he turned into his vampire shape. "If you insist", he grinned devilishly, ready to place his teeth on to her skin.

Suddenly Y/N made a slight move forward with the intention to interrupt her friend. "Did you change your mind?" Damon was close to switching back to human, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Mostly a lack of understanding, but also a little of disappointment and even anger. Was Y/N playing games on him? While Damon Salvatore was sorting feelings, Y/N turned around, standing now in front of him.

She was so close, not even a piece of paper would fit between them.

Y/N slightly exhaled breath, her eyes darting between the vampires eyes and lips. It was the first time Y/N saw him like this. The icy blue of his eyes, she loved so much, has turned darker. Purple veins appeared under his eyes; Y/N couldn't help herself. Damon's appearance fully intoxicated every fibre of her being. Her fingertips found their way gently brushing over his dark purple veins. She felt heat and softness, while tracing one of them.  It took her a few seconds to get out of trance, realizing what she had done. "Sorry", she murmured with a voice barely audible. "Don't apologize, little one." Damon tilted his head, his lips curled up in a self-assured grin, exposing a perfectly white vampire fang. "I never saw you like this before, you loo-"

"... look like a monster?"

Y/N shook her head. It was nothing like that. Yes, he did look unfamiliar. And she should be scared under normal conditions. Instead, his look hit her in an unexpected way. He looked hotter as a vampire, if it was even possible. 

Y/N cleared her throat, looking up at Damon. "I feel... attracted to you."

"So nothing's changed", Damon teased, raising his eyebrows. The girl in front of him softly slapped him on his shoulder; which was only possible because the vampire permitted. "You are always so full of yourself." She smirked, feeling more confident being to something, they have had been so many times before. Granted, he was terrifying accurate, but she wouldn't serve her feelings on a silver platter.

"I'm still into it. You can bite me; feed on me. I only needed to see you before..." 

A shockwave of electricity flowed through her body the second Damon took her hand and pulled her close.

"I'll be careful", he promised, nuzzling his head into the nap of her neck. Damon once again placed his lips on her soft skin. 

Suddenly a harsh pain made Y/N feel like in a kind of haze. She flinched and let out a groan at the same time, unintentionally biting her lower lip. 

During Damon embedded his fang deeper and deeper, she started feeling dizzy. Her hands searched for the vampires upper body, finally wrapped around his neck. She needed him to lean on. A narrow trickle of blood flowed down her neck. Let Damon feed on her felt like flames licking up every fiber of her body. 

With every passing second Y/N could feel her control slip away. Her body was now firmly pressed against Damon's, like she would want to merge them into one.

Damon noticed her staggering, wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her.

Bloodlust already messed up the vampires mind, so he continued feeding on Y/N.

A tempting moan escaped her lips, but she didn't care to cover up. Y/N's heart was racing, her eyes flattering. It was almost as if he was about to push her over the edge, but in a different way. "Mmm, this...this… feels soo weird... and so good...", she whispered under a shallow breath.

As soon as Damon heard her fading voice, he abruptly

quitted drinking from her.

"Fuck!" He rapidly laid her on his lap and checked Y/N's vital signs, to make sure she was okay. Instinctively he bit his wrist, pressed it against Y/N's mouth. He knew his blood would heal her, but it wasn't going fast enough. A few seconds passed through, to him they felt like centuries. Y/N finally blinked and Damon was relieved. He cupped her cheeks, his gaze never leaving hers. "I thought, I'd gone-" Damon cleaned his throat. "I'm so glad, you are doing well", he whispered, while trailing her lips with his fingertips. "So, fuckin' glad..." The vampire exhaled a deep breath. 

"It... You made me feel good. Strange, but good", Y/N appeased and flushed over the memory. "Maybe you got a little carried away, but I don't mind. I wouldn't trade the feeling for anything."

Y/N quickly interrupted herself, before she could reveal too much.

However, Damon used his vampire skills, noticing that Y/N was hiding something from him. "Isn't there anything else you want me to know?", Damon asked without taking his eyes off her. Y/N shifted and flushed even more. "It's unfair. You use your vampirism to get everything out of me."

"Well, if that were the case, I could easily compel you." Damon shrugged and found back to his smugly self. "Tell me, what you are hiding". He said in a seductive voice.

"I wanted to get lost in you."

Her confession sent shivers all over the vampires body. At first he could not decide, how to handle this. "Are you sure that's what you want? I could really hurt you..." Y/N hummed.

In the next split second, Damon pinned Y/N against a wall, smashing his lips on hers, kissing her with all the passion he had to give. The vampire devoured Y/N with a new kind of hunger. He didn't know he could crave someone so much.

"Fuck me, Damon..."

The vampire felt him getting hard, only by hearing those little three words out of her mouth.

"Say it louder. Tell me, what you want me to do."

Y/N pulled him closer, gently biting his earlobe.

"Fuck... me, Damon." It took her a second to focus and forming the words again. After she was near to climax earlier, it wasn't a long way getting to the edge once more. "Make me cum... You almost had me there..."

A deep moan got over the vampires lips, once he understood, what Y/N was trying to tell him.

With the next blink Y/N found herself in Damon's bedroom, lying on his bed.

From now on there weren't many words needed. Damon's hand's found their way under her shirt, cupping her breasts and make her moan over and over again.

He closely listened to the rhythm of her heart, making sure he would be able to delay her climax to the point he needed her to.

"Don't cum yet... I want to taste your little pussy first."

Y/N grabbed the vampires head, running her fingers through his dark hair - pushing him down, since she was unable to form a single word.

As Damon got down, he didn't take his eyes off Y/N.

He used a hand pushing up her skirt and lightly stroking over her panties with his fingertips.

"My girl is so wet", he praised in a low husky voice."-and I barely touched you."

His dirty words in combination with his touch lead to another moan, almost turned into a scream.

Damon pushed the fabric aside, leaving sloppy kisses on the inside of her thighs.

Y/N's eyes fluttered, when his soft lips reached her middle.

Damon's tongue licking around her entrance was driving her nuts.

"...so delicious..." were the only words she was able to catch up. Damon knew, he couldn't thrill her forever, so he got back to her. He spit on his palms, stroking his hand over his crotch. In under a second Y/N finally felt this releasing pressure of his cock. It was like a switch went off in her brain and she braced herself for the hard thrusts that would follow.

Damon dimmed the whining noises Y/N made with a passionate, hungry kiss.

He cheated with his vampirism to give it to her deeper and faster, knocking out all the air of her lungs while Y/N screamed out Damon's name. Her walls clenched around him and made him twitch. It was like her pussy massaged his dick the best way possible.

Every time he hit her harder and rougher he was making sure he hit her spot with every thrust.

Damon gathered speed one last time and pushed her over the edge until she was a moaning whimpering mess.

With her last contraction around his shaft, Damon was cumming inside her.

"You are so tight, little one", he whispered under his breath. "We should make arrangements more often."

Please like or/and reblog if you enjoyed reading or/and want me to write more stories about Damon.

Thanks guys ❤️

[mctreeleth]

Here it is! The instructions to make a pieced and quilted plague doctor mask!

Just as a heads up, this pattern is not really recommended for beginners. There is not a whole lot of explanation of the basic techniques, and it requires a fair bit of precision, two types of fusible interfacing, and an assumption that you can keep a consistent seam allowance and do some hand sewing and know when to sew things right sides together and such.

I am not promising anything, different methods will yield different results, I have never made a pattern exactly as it was written and neither should you. If you want something the same as the next person, go to the shops.

Actually, nevermind, this is a quarantine craft, stay home.

There are two ways to do the piecing for this project. The first is a quilting technique called English Paper Piecing, there are plenty of tutorials online, but it is done by hand and I do not have the patience for it. Still, if you have the time but not the machinery, it is probably your best option for a very good finish. Cut the pattern net out of card, glue the bits onto your fabric, sew them up, pull them out and add interfacing after. I sewed three hexies together once and got bored and gave up.

The method I actually used involves my favourite cheat for sewing: you can use an inkjet printer to print on non-woven fusible interfacing! There are ridiculously overpriced pre-cut packs available, but also you can just cut up some midweight to the right size. I just have a boring old Epson printer, and I can get away with just putting some scotch tape along the edge that feeds in for a bit of stability. Alternatively, depending on the brand, you can “fuse” it onto some non-stick baking paper, cut it to size, and then peel it off without losing too much adhesive. (My pictures look a little different because my original A4 version fits on the page differently than the shared version)

Printing onto interfacing means I know my dimensions are perfect, and I have the markings on the pieces so I know what joins to what. If you only have a laser printer, or your inkjet hates you and wont let you print on interfacing, I still recommend using fusible interfacing for structure and precision piecing. You will just need to keep a lot better track of what is what, because the pieces are all slightly different and they only go together one way.

The actual “pattern” for this project is a geometric net. I highly recommend making one in paper or cardstock first, because we all have different sized heads.  As with most quilting projects, it will generally get to be a little bit smaller again once it is all sewn together, so keep that in mind.

This is a link to the PDF on Google Drive. It is a 4 page document, for printing on US letter size. There is enough space around the pieces that it can also print onto A4 paper: the one inch square should measure 2.5cm. Similarly, the extra space means it can be scaled up a bit before any gets cut off, if you have a particularly large face.

(Edited to add: if you were going to make this in a single fabric rather than pieced together patchwork pieces, I have uploaded a simplified version of the pattern, which has more curved seams which are easier to match. The technique is otherwise the same, but note that these patterns do not have seam allowances - you will need to add them when you cut your fabric so that the pieces match.)

The body of the mask is made up of two mirrored (four total) pieced together bits, plus some circles to go around the lenses. There are two mirrored top pieces, and two mirrored bottom pieces. The top pieces are numbered 1-14, and are split over two pages and need to be joined together. The bottom pieces are lettered A-H. On one side of the pattern the numbers and letters are circled, so you know which side you are working on. There are also small dashes in the corners of the pieces; single dashes connect to single dashes, double dashes connect to double dashes. At the parts that become the edges of the eye holes, there are little dots at the end of the dashes.

Even if you are printing onto interfacing, you will also need to do a paper printout, as it will be used later as a pattern to cut the batting and the lining. The paper printout can also be used to work out your fabric placement, if you are going for a certain look (again, this one was printed as an all in one A4 sheet, but it works the same).

Cutting the Patchworked Outer

If you have managed to print onto fusible interfacing, all you need to do is cut the pieces. Otherwise, do what you need to trace the pieces onto interfacing, making notes of where they go and which sides align to what.

Once you have your interfacing pieces cut and organized, fuse them to your fabrics with at least enough room between and around them for seam allowances on each side.

I use a 1cm seam allowance, but feel free to use a quarter or half inch if that is what you are used to.

Trim all the pieces to have a consistent seam allowance.

Lay the trimmed pieces out on the paper printouts. This will let you know if there are any pieces missing, or any parts where fabric duplicates might share a seam.

Piecing the Patchworked Outer

First, piece together the nets of the bottom pieces. Put a straight pin straight through at the corners of the interfacings of two neighboring pieces, so they are perfectly aligned. Then angle the pin on the right hand side so it comes back up along where the seam will go, and angle the one on the left so that it is going across.

Sew along the edge of the interfacing, aiming for just alongside of it, not on it.

Finger press the seams open, then repeat until all the pieces are together.

The technique for the top pieces is the same, but at any join which ends at an eyehole (marked on the pattern with a black dot on the ends of the dash), backstitch at the end of the interfacing, so that it won’t pull apart at the edge. The seam allowance at this part will be cut off, so it needs to be secured before that point to prevent it from pulling apart.

Batting and Quilting

Properly press all the pieces, with the seams open.

Using the paper pattern, cut out two mirrored top and bottom pieces from fusible batting.

Iron these onto the inside of the pieced parts, so that their edges line up with the interfacings. In my experience, the best way to iron on fusible batting is from the right side, so I pin them in place and flip them over, iron a little bit so they barely stick, pull out the pins, and fuse properly.

Do some quilting. I just went 5mm to the side of every seam, because the next lot of seams need to be topstitched in the same way, and I like the consistency.

Assembly of the Patchworked Outer

Join together the gap in the top pieces. The batting was aligned to the interfacing, so the technique is the same.

Press the seams apart and topstitch the seams to either side.

Trim off the excess seam allowance around the eye holes to the edge of the batting and interfacing. this was why we needed to backstitch earlier.

The next step joins the top and bottom pieces together. The bottom piece attaches to the more curved edge of the top piece - that last seam that was joined after adding the batting will meet these side seams, angled towards the tip of the beak. Sewing the sides is the trickiest bit to do on the machine, so, while I would normally say basting is for cowards, if you want the points to match perfectly, this is a time when pinning will not really cut it. I just hand sew through each point where the seams join, go back through a couple of threads over, and tie it off. 

Then I put pins through the longer seams.

When sewing it with the machine, try to keep the lines as straight as possible, making turns only at the seams where you put a basting stitch.

Once both sides are sewn, press the seams open and topstitch to either side.

Repeat this step for the top centre seam. You can just pin baste this one if you would rather, because the angles match, but it is literally right there in the middle where everyone can see it, so if you are not confident in matching points, baste it.

Press the seams open and topstitch.

The technique is the same for the bottom centre seam, but topstitching all the way to the tip of the beak is not possible, so you will have to do the last bit of top stitching by hand.

It doesn’t matter so much if it is a bit messy, because it is not in a place where it can really be seen, but spitting the seam will help it hold its shape more nicely.

That is the pretty outside bit done.

Making and Attaching the Lining

To make the lining, use the paper pattern to cut two mirrored pieces of the top and bottom pieces, with whatever seam allowance you prefer.

The gap on the top piece will have a maximum possible seam allowance of about a quarter inch, but this is enough for a secure internal seam. The eye holes do not need a seam allowance.

Sew together the gaps in the top pieces, then sew the top seam of the top pieces and the centre seam of the bottom pieces together.

Open up both pieces and sew the sides together. You should have a lining piece that is a floppy, boring version of the outside piece.

I have not included a step for how to make a strap, because everyone has their own preferred methods, and there are plenty of alternative options. If you don’t want to worry about making strapping you can use ribbon or elastic, or put a small loop there to thread something through afterwards. Whatever the choice, pin to the centre of the back edges of pattern pieces #10, facing towards the eye holes.

Put the lining piece, facing right side in, over the pieced outer and the strap pieces and pin around the edges, lining up the four seams of the lining with the seams on the outer.

Sew around the edge.

Turn the piece right side out through one of the lining’s eye holes. You just sort of pull the pieced outer (which is currently inside) back a bit, until the tip of the beak can come through an eye hole, and then try to pull it through as gently as possible so that the raw edge of the eye hole doesn’t get too stretched and frayed.

Then push the lining back into the pieced outer body of the mask.

Pin around the edge, so that the lining is all tucked neatly inside.

Top stitch over the edge.

Eye hole time!

Pin the outer and lining together in the eye holes, and top stitch about 4mm (1/6th of an inch) from the edges. Trim any fraying bits.

Hand stitch 1 inch wide bias binding to the inner edge of the eye hole, just over the top stitch.

Flip the bias binding through the eye hole to the outer, fold the raw edge of the bias binding under itself, and hand stitch it down to the outside. Repeat for the other eye.

This next step is the worst bit, and if you have another method, go for it. Theoretically you could use something thicker that wouldn’t fray, like a felt or leather, so that you didn’t have to worry about lining the eye holes, but it depends on the look you are going for.

Cut out four circles from fabric, two of the biggest size, two of the medium size. Draw the smallest size circle in the middle of the back of the medium sized circle, and stack it on top of the centre of the big one, right sides together. From the fusible batting, cut two donut shapes of the medium size with the smallest circle cut out of the centre.

Using very small stitches, sew around the small circle drawn on the medium sized circles. Fuse the donut of batting to the back of the large circle, with the inside of the donut matching the sewn line. Cut an even smaller hole out of the middle, so that the seam allowance that remains is a slightly smaller width than the batting. Clip this into at least 12 pieces.

Press the smaller circle towards the centre, so that it can be turned in though the hole. 

This will take a lot of careful ironing and pinning. Let it sit for a bit, so that it learns to be there.

Then unpin it, but hopefully the little clipped bits will stay there. Fold the bigger circle down over them – you will need a lot of little tiny pleats – making the outer edge as round as possible.

Then press that smaller circle back down over the pleats, so that it is level with the folded outer edge. If it sticks over in any places, trim it back, but only just.

Pin this donut shape over the eye piece. The inside edge of the donut should be level with the inside of the bias binding, the raw edge up against the outer fabric.

Hand sew around the outer edge of the donut to the pieced fabric. Make sure that the raw edge from the smaller circle is under the donut, but do not let it flip out through the middle. On the machine, top stitch about a quarter inch from the outer edge.

This should catch the raw edge inside, and leave a ridge between the outer eye donut and the bias bound eye hole. From the inside, it should be possible to pop in a round lens from a pair of sunglasses, or an improvised lens such as a circle of clear plastic cut from the lid of an old takeaway container, or some transparent holographic vinyl, such as this stuff on amazon. Repeat for the other eye hole.

Hooray! You are all done!

I am really not sure on the efficacy of this as an actual viable mask. On the one hand, there are a lot of seams through which germs could pass, but on the other hand, the fact that the lining is a bit loose and baggy inside the beak might cancel that out.

Depending on your materials, it should be machine washable, although it will almost certainly look a lot less crisp.

I had a lot of issues with my lenses fogging up after a couple of minutes of me wearing it, but who knows, maybe I am just a very wet breather.

I am not going to charge anything for this pattern, nor am I going to place restrictions on what you do with the items you make. I do not control your right to profit from your work. All art is derivative, and you making your own version transforms this pattern. Don’t let assertions of intellectual property rights be another way you are alienated from your labour. If you decide to sell your work, demand fair remuneration for your time and skills. Someone offering to pay for the materials is not enough. If you have decided to take an activity you love and turn it into work, make it worthwhile.

On the flip side, please don’t try to sell this bit of writing or the PDF of the pattern net or these photographs. They are free for you and for everyone else. Resist society’s message that you should try to profit from your every action, and especially resist the notion that true success is achieved by profiting from anyone else’s labour.

If you want to discuss this stuff further, I would love that! I am researching the commodification of creative knowledge for my PhD, focusing on quilt patterns and designs. Message me @mctreeleth on tumblr and instagram or @sarasewsstuff on twitter for my uni email.

Edit: I have added in a link to a simplified version if you are going to make this with a single fabric rather than patchwork piecing. 

[wis-art]

She keeps saying that salem dated a groomer, while ommiting the fact that said groomer abused the FUCK out of him and preyed on the fact he was a suicidal lonely mentally drained adult after visiting the psych ward many times. He was as easy of a target for an abuser as a fucking kid. She keeps this fucking traumatic experience of being in abusive relationship with a fucking pedophile over his head and treating it like he is supporting that piece of shit, i hate that she treats the fact he was gaslit and manipulated by a abuser as the same as finding victims and bringing children to him, and posting every single fucking PRIVATE conversation i had with her telling her to cut it off and to fuck off as proof of me somehow harassing her, fuck you.

Even i was fucking tricked and charmed into thinking that, yeah this person is alright after talking with them but as soon as i fucking connected the dots that no, salem's abuser is in fact a pedophile abuser, i fucking went off to apologize to her and she just went off on me and kept threatening me and telling me that i am somehow defending pedophiles and how that makes me a hypocrite??? I felt so incredibly dirty with myself and ashamed and swallowed my pride to apologize, and all you did is just argue with me so i get angry so you can have more screenshots of me being mad at you. As soon as i found out i went to tell you that you're right and that you should fuck off from us, you went into a blind rage about me and him being serial harassers, stirring shit up and cooking up a devious callout on salem on twitter by using some random 17 year old's platform, on your paper thin proof and evidence you pulled by lying and using salem's trauma to frame him as a fucking groomer. You suck and i dont care what happens to you. While you are right about salem's ex being a groomer you also omit the fact he is the victim OF THE SAME EX AS YOURS YOU DATED THAT GROOMER TOO, YOU ARE NOT ANY BETTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You keep asking me for proof and evidence, evidence for what??? Did you forget about all this happening when you did it or do you need a picture you can claim is out of context, leave us the fuck alone. You are blaming a victim of the same person you are a victim of because he doesn't like you one bit. It's such an obvious smear campaign you have been keeping up for literal fucking years by now that caused salem so much emotional harm you can't even comprehend.

I do not like you, nor your enabler gf who did nothing else than glaze him in his DMs about art advice and constantly drawing his old puppychan era OCs publically while constantly publically talking about Salem saying these nasty horrible things about him and whining about him never changing. No he never changed, he is still salem you just want him to be somebody else, somebody you can both wrap around your fingers and keep him around for clout and fame, so you can be the two who "fixed" puppychan. Fuck right off. No amount of crocodile tears you shed for me hurting your feelings by telling you that you guys are abusers is going to make me change my mind.

holy fuck me and salem have been going through basically the same fucking thing for months now

[letarasstuff]

Doesn't she love me anymore?

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it as much as I do!

Summary: Spencer's daughter starts to question why her mother left the small family early on

Warnings: Mentions/undertones of bullying, an absent parent and descreptions of the concequences for the child, So. Much. Angsty. Feelings.

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

“Daddy?” Spencer turns around from the frying pan to look at his daughter. Against common belief, he is quite the cook. But this only started when he became a father, after he realized a child won’t be able to live off of a diet consisting of coffee and anxiety, just like he did at the time. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

She looks down to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter in front of her. “Why did Mommy leave us?”

The spatula falls to the ground. It’s a question the father did not expect on a Tuesday morning before school. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? She saw me the first time and didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault Mommy left us, left you, just like Linda said.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

“No no no”, her father is quick to turn off the heat and walks around the island to hug his daughter. “None of this is your fault. I don’t know what this Linda said, but it is not true. Your mother had her own reasons to stay out of our lives, but it has nothing to do with you.”

This doesn’t calm her down. “What are her reasons? Why did she leave us? Why did leave me?” Frantically she tries to keep her sobs down in order to speak. Spencer never has seen her this upset.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you are in the right state to talk about it now? Why don’t we calm down and get something for breakfast on our way to school and talk about it after I pick you up this afternoon?” He suggests, hoping the thought of a cup of hot chocolate from their favorite bakery would help her.

(Y/N) looks up at him with bloodshot and glassy eyes. Snot runs down from her nose. Spencer is quick to get her a tissue and make her blow into it, cringing internally about all those germs. “Do you promise to tell me more after school?” Big eyes look up at him and the father hurts. It hurts him, because there are so many things in her future that will break her and all that because of her mother. He can’t shield her from all of it, as much as he wants to he isn’t able. Because there always will be people, people like this Linda, who will make the girl conscious of her absent mother.

“I promise”, he tells her and holds his little finger out for her. (Y/N) smiles while linking hers with his, knowing her father will keep this promise just like any other of his. “Good, and now pack up we got a bakery to visit!” Quickly the girl grabs the piece of paper in front of her only to shove it into her backpack.

A little later she sits at her desk and looks at her teacher expectantly, just like her fellow classmates. “Ok children, today we won’t work further on our addition and subtraction worksheets-” The teacher’s sentence is cut short by the eruption of cheerful shouts. Just (Y/N) looks at the multiplication sheet in front of her.

The teacher is quick to quiet the class again. “Instead we will continue our work on the mother’s card you started doing yesterday. Linda was so kind to tell me that you don’t have the chance to finish them at home, because your moms are there. That is why you do it here and your worksheets at home.”

With a frown on her face (Y/N) pulls out the blank piece of paper that made her feel bad ever since her teacher handed it out to her yesterday. While everybody around her chatters happily with other classmates, she just stares at the paper. It is a reminder of something she doesn’t have, something she lacks and will never get: A real mother. A hug from her mother. Not even the motherly reassurance one gets after a nightmare. Nothing.

“Hey orphan. Ya realizing your mom doesn’t love you and that’s why she left you?” Linda, someone (Y/N) later learns to call a Mean Girl, struts up to the younger one’s desk. A sigh leaves her lips before answering. “You do know for an orphan I need to have neither a mommy nor a daddy. And I do for a fact have a dad, a loving one actually.”

A more light than hard slap on the back of her head makes the girl’s body jolt. “I don’t care, but I know that your mom hates you enough just after looking at you to know she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” After that Linda goes back to her table, leaving (Y/N) feeling more miserable than before.

Some starring on the paper later her teacher passes her table. “Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart? You seem very sad.” That is an obvious fact. Finally the girl is able to lift her gaze. “Miss Ramirez, I don’t know what to do.” This is probably the first time ever she said this sentence in school.

“Mother’s day is in a few days, Sweetie, and this is why we all make these cards. It’s a thank you to your mom and a way to show her how much you love her. You love your mom, don’t you?” The shake of her head shocks the teacher. Immediately an alarming signal rings through her head, because this is a red flag. “Why? Did she do something?”

“Miss Ramirez, I don’t have a mommy. She- she left Daddy and me.” Tears fill (Y/N)’s eyes. Her teacher is quick to hug and sush her. “Oh Sweetie, this is not a bad thing. I’m sure your mom loves you very much, even if she is not there with you. Do you wanna go out for a bit to calm down?” Meanwhile she connects the obvious signs of a single dad in her mind. Missed parent teacher conferences, unnecessary hovering over the child and the tendency to be categorized as a helicopter parent. Yes, Dr. Reid ticks all of those boxes.

It’s the second time of the day that an adult asked (Y/N) to calm down, and frankly it doesn’t really help with the situation at hand. “Can I do my homework outside? It’s too loud in here”, she asks between sniffles. Both of them know that the class’ volume is not the real reason for the request. “Of course, Sweetheart. If you need something, just come in and ask me. Alright?” (Y/N) nods and gets her multiplication sheet and a pencil before leaving the classroom.

At the end of the school day, Spencer is there to pick up his daughter. For days like these, where are no cases, Hotch gave him a free pass on (Y/N)’s very first day at school to leave the office earlier to be able to pick her up himself. As a father and someone who works the same high demanding job as him, he knows that little things like these are often the most important. And even if there were a case today, Spencer would have stayed back. He promised his daughter the truth and this is what he is going to tell her.

“Hey Dr. Reid. Do you have a moment?” Her teacher greets him at the classroom door. Concerned about his child’s wellbeing he nods and follows her back out of the room. “I gave the children the assignment of creating a card for their mothers, because mother’s day is rolling around. Today (Y/N) told me her mother left you, is that right?” This is the moment Spencer connects the dots. This is the kick off that made her question her mother’s motives about leaving all of the sudden.

The young doctor clears his throat. “Uhm yes, that is right. Actually, I’m going to talk to her about it right after school on her demand.” Miss Ramirez nods with an understanding nod. “Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Reid. I also want to warn you, in two days we will hold a celebration in honor of mother’s day with the kids’ mothers. You are invited as a father, because this is a special situation. But I also give (Y/N) a free pass for this event. It can be very traumatic for her.”

The dad thanks her, but his thoughts are somewhere else. He is mad. He is mad for his daughter, because she will always be the one with a “special situation”. The odd one, because yeah, it isn’t uncommon for fathers to leave (which isn’t anything less sad and traumatic), but an absent mother hits differently.

But Spencer is also hurt. Hurt, because for her young age, there is already the word “traumatic” thrown around. No, it isn’t enough that her dad works a job with the risk of him not coming home from a case again, or being the target of an enemy. No, she also has to go through the experience of missing a parent, never knowing how her life would be if it wasn’t for someone like her mother.

Even with Spencer trying to fill that role, there will be a time where (Y/N) will ask herself all of the “what ifs”. He can’t stop it from happening, and that is his biggest pain right there. Because he can’t shield her from her own thoughts. At the age of six she already is a bright, brilliant and talented mind. Now in a few years or maybe just months, she will start to think about her mother being the root of her pain, bad experiences and hurt. Her thoughts will lead to a downward spiral of how a person can do something like her mother, who acted like that with the knowledge of which consequences will follow. And Spencer can’t stop this from happening.

“Daddy!” A small thud comes from (Y/N) colliding with his leg. Just by the way she squeezes it he knows that she hasn’t had a good day at school. “Hey Baby. Do you want to go to the office for a bit? I think your Auntie Penelope told me something about a new science set she got for you. Or do you want to go straight home?” Spencer asks after lifting her into his arms. Immediately she hides her face into the crook of his neck. “Home”, she murmurs. Home it is then.

“Aaaaaand here comes the little missy’s hot chocolate!” The father says in a funny voice while carefully putting the cup into his daughter’s hands. She sits covered in a blanket on the sofa, looking expectantly at her father.

Spencer sighs at the lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” (Y/N) nods adamantly. “Ok, but I got to go a bit back for this story

“It was about eight years ago, I worked on a case with your Aunties and Uncles back then. I was the one who had to get the last round of coffee for the night at a small 24/7 diner. As I walked in I thought I died, because I was sure an angel stood right in front of me. Well not-” “Is that Mommy?!” (Y/N) cuts him off excitedly. Spencer smiles slightly. “You need to listen to the story!” The girl shifts in her seat. “Right, sorry.”

As I was saying: well in front, because she sat at the bar waiting for her order. I nervously ordered the coffees and had to begin three times, because I kept messing up, mesmerized by her sole atmosphere. As the waiter went to put the coffee pot on, the woman turned towards me and introduced herself. After that she asked me what I was doing late at night in a small town like that and we somehow forgot everything around us by just talking. After that we stayed in touch. Six months later we became a couple, she moved to DC in order for me to still be able to do my job here.

“Two years later your Mom got pregnant with you, and it was quite a surprise to us. But we felt ready at that time and so she moved in with me and we had you. The first few months were great, we couldn’t be happier. BUt then you continuously became ill. At first just a cold, then the pocks and so on. I think it was the third night in a row where you held us up all night. I took a year off from work to care for you with your Mom. I carried you through our apartment the whole night, giving you a bottle, singing, reading, doing anything.

“Then I saw her standing in the doorway. Even though there was baby vomit on her sweatpants and I had never seen her eye bags being this dark, she was the most beautiful woman to me. I approached her with a smile, but her frown only deepened. I thought it was because she worried about you and your health. Instead she told me she can’t do it. She can’t be a mother, that she wasn’t cut for this job.” Her exact words still resonate in Spencer’s ears to this day. He knows exactly what she said, word for word, and they never stopped to sting any less.

“So Mommy left us because I was too much trouble?” (Y/N)’s voice sounds even sadder than before. “No, it never was because of you. She knew exactly what it meant to have a child. Your mother knew what kind of work it takes and what the future brought. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. Some people are just not made to be parents and it’s better when they realize it themselves and leave the situation.”

(Y/N) nods, her mind running wild. All of that makes plenty of sense but at the same time not. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I will never leave you. You are my everything and I’m so happy to be a dad to such a wonderful little girl like you. I want you to remember that your Mom may not be here with us, but she still loves you. And I’m here for you, for anything you need, want or don’t want. Do you understand me?”

She nods again and curls up into her father’s lap. “Can we watch something?” She asks after a bit of silence, where both of them indulged their own thoughts. Quickly the TV turned on and some kids movie plays. The rest of the day the small family spends all the time cuddled on the couch, because at the moment they need to feel the other there with them.

The next two days Spencer calls (Y/N) in sick at school and himself at work, because together they fly to Vegas. Just because her own mother wasn’t ready for the job, doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate the work her grandmother did as a mother. That and you never know how much time you have left with the people who are dear to you.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[kaeyamonsoon]

IT'S ABOUT TIME I FINALLY HAVE THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE SMTH ABOUT KAEYA AND DILUC IN THE HIDDEN STRIFE EVENT (it's more of a summary and further explanation + my personal hcs/theory + kaeya character story + webtoon + minor discussion about Kaeya and Collei but it's just my usual nitpicking of connecting the dots—)

this includes spoilers of the hidden strife event with scattered interactables seen in the overworld after completing the last quest of the event

So if you interact with the shiny thing at the top of the KOF HQ, you'll see that Kaeya hid things that are of sentimental value to him.

So apparently Kaeya had the initiative to save this certain piece of paper where his “Father” helped him to improve his handwriting + snippets of Khaenri'ah lore that reveals their clan's purpose(?) and what they've done to serve the royals, stepping up as regents.

Since they're said as regents, then Kaeya isn't exactly royal blood but is able to step up as one to rule Khaenri'ah if the first line of royals aren't able to do so. Him being a prince or a ruler might still be a probable theory, as he's said as the “hope” of their homeland as well as being placed as a pawn in Mondstadt.

Now that it's revealed that he's actually a regent and have probably told that to Diluc the night they fought—

While Kaeya's Character Story — Vision, mentioned that he anticipated Diluc's anger, in the paper here he wrote— it seems like he didn't expect any conflict? Based on my understanding, he knew that he would be angry but not to the point where “violence” will be included. That's understandable as Kaeya and other people have always described and seen Diluc as a kind gentleman flawless etiquette, who's perfect in any way. With Alice revealing that she had been observing Diluc for awhile now, mentioning that Diluc had taken care of Klee well when she was out catching crystalflies in the vineyard, accompanying her bacm home and even replied to Alice's letter saying that they're most welcome to visit and the head maid shall provide them with sufficient snacks for them (🥺).

So Diluc actually pointing his sword at him might've been a bit unexpected but Kaeya seeing reason through everything and technically has a 4D mind (+ underlying guilt), he felt that he deserved it or unsurprised, quoting "he asked for it" considering he really chose the time where Diluc is in the moment of grieving.

Alright so here comes my word vomit:

I personally think Diluc did that as a means to see Kaeya's "true" self probably because he believes that "in the face of death, everyone's true self will be revealed" or to be a bit realistic, his anger might've blinded him to do so, an outlet perhaps.

In relation to that, Kaeya used that same method Diluc used "against" him to allow him to reveal Collei's true colors the time where he faces her off. (I've seen some discourse about how Kaeya is a bad guy for hurting a literal child, but can you really blame him when she herself is a threat, at first, due to the fact that she was the cause of the fire and the death of two Snezhnayan diplomats, with a person— no matter what age, who has the capability of becoming a threat to the lives of Mondstadt wouldn't go unnoticed or ignored by Kaeya imo :'()

I like nitpicking so I'll also headcanon that Diluc using that kind of method to Kaeya was also learned from his father, Crepus, as he used an unknown power that Diluc didnt know he possessed, meaning Diluc learned that people will use what they got no matter how reckless it is once faced with death. Maybe it's also a reason why Diluc uses violence against the Abyss Order (specifically the Abyss Mages) in order to spill the truth.

It's my personal views is all ^^

[misteria247]

Night Raven College was a lot different from what you'd remembered. Then again after six years of not seeing it, it was bound to change in some way. While the buildings remained the same it was quite clear that the Ramshackle Dorm had changed. Following closely behind Grimm with Elliott trailing behind you, you couldn't help but stare at your old dorm in awe. The once somewhat decrypted building was now somewhat restored, the grass area was kept clean and the garden by the graveyard in the back was in full bloom. As you looked at your old home in stunned silence, your beloved son Elliott peeked his face from behind you to get a better look. His bright green eyes seemed to sparkle as they landed on the graveyard and with it it's massive gargoyles that sat on display.

"What is this place mama.....?"

Elliott asked his tone curious and full of wonder. Grimm was the one who answered his question.

"This is Ramshackle, me and your mom's old dorm. Back in the day she was my minion, helping me become the greatest mage within our school!"

Grimm said with a large smirk. You rolled your eyes at the feline's words but didn't bother to correct him. Elliott's eyes seemed to widen even more, making your heart twist slightly as the expression made him look so much more like his father. Even though he had your luscious (H/C) locks, everything else was completely his father's. Grimm seemed to do a double take at Elliott his ears flickering.

"Wow.....he really does look like him doesn't he?"

Grimm asked sounding slightly dazed. You gave him a small smile feeling a sense of pride hit you.

"He definitely has his looks doesn't he?"

You mused much to your son's confusion. Grimm just gave you a small look and led the two of you into the dormitory. As soon as you stepped inside you were ambushed, three familiar ghostly figures coming at you, Grimm and Elliott. Your son let out a startled shout as he clung to you while you jumped before smiling brightly.

"Is that anyway to greet me?"

You asked somewhat teasingly. The ghosts froze before their faces broke out into large grins.

"(Y/N)!!"

They cried in joy quickly surrounding you to welcome you back. Elliott clung to you tightly obviously uneasy and you were quick to break it up. Three confused faces glanced at you before catching sight of your little one. Bringing Elliott gently in front of you, you gave them a smile.

"This is my son Elliott. Elliott these are the ghosts that me and Grimm roomed with while I stayed here."

You introduced them. Elliott shyly clung to your hand feeling suddenly put on display. The ghosts took a good look at your child their eyes widening.

"He looks like your one friend!"

The first ghost exclaimed in shock.

"Is he....?"

The second one asked tilting his head towards you. You gave him a nod to confirm his question and were met with startled looks. Before anymore questions could be asked Grimm stepped in.

"Speaking of Elliott, would you three keep an eye on him? I need to speak to my minion here."

Grimm said his tone surprisingly mature sounding. The ghosts were quick to agree and with an encouraging push from you for Elliott along with a thinly veiled threat to your old roommates regarding your son's safety, the trio left dragging Elliott along with them to show him around the Ramshackle Dorm. Once you were completely alone Grimm all but turned to you his gaze serious.

"(Y/N) how are you going to keep him a secret?? Just from one look alone anyone can tell that he's Tsunotarou's!"

The monster feline exclaimed startling you slightly. You couldn't help but feel a sudden sinking feeling hit you. You knew that in reality it wasn't possible to keep Elliott's existence a secret like you'd wanted to. It was nearly impossible to given that much like his father, Elliott had a tendency to disappear and explore different places. Anyone in Twisted Wonderland could see him and quickly connect the dots of who exactly his biological father was, given how famous Malleus was in this world what with him being the literal king of the Valley of Thorns. But the illogical side of you wanted to try. You wanted to keep Elliott's existence quiet, you wanted to keep him safe from the possible dangers that he could face should he be discovered. Not only that but you were afraid.

You had no idea how Malleus would react to the knowledge of having a son. While in your heart you wanted to believe that he'd love Elliott you knew that logically it might not be the case as much as the thought crushed you. What would he even say? Would he even accept Elliott as his son? What would those of his kingdom think? That their beloved king technically had a bastard child, who wasn't only part dragon fae but part human as well? What if......Malleus had already moved on? It'd been six years after all and a lot could happen in six years. For all you knew Malleus could already be married and have several children, having completely forgotten all about you and the feelings you both shared (the thought nearly made your heart shatter into pieces and your throat tighten). As if sensing your thoughts Grimm put a paw on your cheek. You blinked back the sudden sting in your eyes and sniffled.

"I.....I know I can't keep him a secret but Grimm it's.....it's been six years. What me and Malleus had.....is probably long gone. I can't just barge back into his life and tell him. It wouldn't be fair to him....."

You said sounding somewhat desperate. Grimm gave you a small saddened look before turning away, biting his lip.

"Well.....you may have to....and rather soon....."

Grimm said trailing off. You stiffened slightly at his tone, the sinking feeling you'd been feeling getting bigger.

"Grimm......what do you mean soon....?"

You asked nervous and slightly on edge. Your companion gave you a somewhat guilt filled expression.

"Well there's a reason why I'm here......the Headmaster Crowley has invited everyone from our old classes back for a reunion. So......Tsunotarou might be here sometime soon....."

Grimm mumbled ears flickering nervously. You on the other hand had seemed to stop functioning, barely able to process what Grimm just revealed to you.

'Malleus was coming back......Malleus was going to be here......he's going to see Elliott.....!'

The thought made you snap out of your terrified stupor and with an almost panicky response you grabbed Grimm and shook him slightly.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?!?! For hell's sake Grimm!!! I've got to get Elliott and we need to leave now-!"

You were cut off mid panicked rambling by one of the ghosts.

"(Y/N)!!! We're so sorry!!! We only turned around for a moment-!!!"

The ghost exclaimed sounding extremely upset. You turned towards him, the world seemingly tilting as you realized that Elliott wasn't with them.

"Where's Elliott....?!? Where's my son?!?"

You asked fear creeping into your voice. The ghost flinched guilty before finally answering your question.

"We....we lost him."

That one sentence threw your world into chaos.

~~~~~

Being a magical being had it's perks, especially when you wanted to go off and explore. For Elliott it'd been an easy task for the six year old. Now said child was currently walking around what was considered a courtyard, taking in the sights and sounds. Despite being nervous and on edge from this whole endeavor, the fae child couldn't help but want to explore the place. It was rather large and vast and had many things a young boy his age wanted to see. Walking past the fountain he caught a glimpse of a pathway that was lined with statues. Curious he changed his course to explore the pathway, taking in the strange statues that decorated the trail. The first statute was that of a woman. Her stature was short and somewhat stout, a large, strange dress covered her. The gown was covered in hearts and in her hand was a small wand with the same pattern. A strange dark spot covered one of its corners, almost as if it'd been burned at one point. The second statute was that of a lion, its fangs pulled up into a sinister grin and a lone eye was covered in a jagged scar.

The third statute was that of a woman whose lower half was of that of an octopus, a piece of paper held in her grip. The fourth statue was a man dressed in robes and a turban, a staff shaped in the likeness of a snake held in his boney grip. The fifth statute was of a beautiful woman who carried an apple in her hand. The sixth was of a man covered in robes and flames, a sharp toothed smile on his boney face. The last one was of that of a woman, a large staff held in her grasp. A long robe like gown covered her but there was something else about her that made Elliott stop in his tracks to look at her. With wide shocked eyes Elliott sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her head.

Horns.

She had horns, just like him. Without thinking about it Elliott removed his bangs from his face, revealing the small horns that grew from his forehead. Touching them he looked at the statue, a sudden feeling of confusion and awe hitting him. Elliott wasn't the only one who had horns. There was someone out there who had them too. It blew his mind, questions racing about in his head.

Was there anymore like her? What was she? Was she someone his mother knew? Did......did his father know her?

Elliott didn't know much about his father. His mother rarely talked about him, getting upset whenever the subject was brought up. All Elliott knew about his mysterious father was that he was someone who his mama loved more than anything in the world and that he could use magic just like him. Everything else was a mystery for the small child. Elliott felt his heart sink as he recalled all the nights he'd hear his mother's quiet sobs when she'd thought he was asleep. The lingering sorrow that always seemed to surround her no matter how hard she tried to hide it from him.

'And now mama's gonna be even more upset because you brought her back here. You don't even know if your papa is even here.'

The nasty thought made his chest hurt. He'd only wanted to make her smile, and while she'd been smiling quite a bit since they'd gotten here, his mother had also looked uneasy. Like she was expecting something bad to happen. Seeing his mother like that made him want to protect her even more, especially from this mysterious Tsunotarou the cat Grimm had mentioned. Getting lost in his thoughts the child hadn't noticed the sudden shadow that covered his form until a voice spoke up.

"Oi what's a kid doing here??"

The voice made him jump, the boy whirling around to see who had spoken. Having moved so fast he'd accidentally tripped over his own two feet causing him to fall into the statue and scrape his elbow against it. Pain shot through it and the scent of copper filled his nose. Elliott felt himself start to tear up and before he knew it he'd begun to sniffle. The owner of the voice, a young man quickly grew panicked at the sudden tears.

"O-oi! Are you alright?! I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you!"

He said panicked as he bent down to help Elliott up. As he reached out to grab him Elliott took notice of the man through his tears. The man looked to be at least a few years younger than his mother, large reddish brown eyes gazed at him with concern and guilt. Over one of his eyes was a heart that decorated his cheek, and his head was covered in unruly red hair. Elliott let out a loud hiccup as he tried to get his crying down, however given the stress and sudden injury he'd received it was rather difficult to. The man meanwhile watched him, uncomfortable and lost when another voice called out.

"Oi Ace! What are you doing-is that a kid!?! What did you do to him???!!"

The second man asked sounding instantly protective and scolding. The first man Ace sent a panicked look at the other man gesturing towards Elliott in an lost manner.

"I didn't mean to! I startled him and he got hurt and I have no idea what to do!"

Ace said panicked. The second man let out an exasperated sigh and with a practiced ease took over for Ace.

"It's okay little guy, we're not going to hurt you. My name is Deuce. Deuce Spades and this is Ace Trappola."

The man Deuce introduced himself. Elliott sniffled gazing at him before muttering back in a shaky manner.

"Elliott.....my name is Elliott."

Elliott said. Deuce gave him a small smile, helping him up the rest of the way to his feet.

"Elliott that's a cool name. Tell me Elliott are you lost? Do you know where your parents are?"

Deuce asked somewhat concerned. Elliott froze when he realized that he was indeed lost making him get upset again. At the small cry Deuce gave him a small hug, picking him up and holding him close.

"Hey, hey it's okay! No need to cry! It'll be alright we'll help you find your parents okay?"

Deuce said soothingly. Ace gave him a baffled look.

"We will???"

Ace asked only to be met with a dark teal gaze. Realizing that Deuce was serious he bit back his groan of frustration.

"Yes we will. Elliott do you know the name of your parents? Maybe me and Ace can help you find them quicker."

Deuce asked rubbing his back. Elliott gave a rattling breath and nodded.

"I.....I know my mama's name....."

He said in a watery way.

"That's great! Can you tell me her name?"

Deuce asked. The duo listened carefully as Elliott pulled himself together somewhat, unaware of the chaos that they'd be met with.

"Her name is (Y/N)."

*I know I'm supposed to be on hiatus but after doing the Thirteenth chapter for the Princess and her Dragon I was struck with inspiration for our lovely little family of two. I can't help but treasure my twst children sgdgdgdgg. Anyways sorry it's so short and crummy, but I hope it'll bring y'all some entertainment!! Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Now back to my hiatus. But first!!! Tagging list!!!! @genshin-idiot @ditsy-anime-thot @ctannth @reaperfeels.*

[delimeful]

the shapes in the silence (13)

warning: illness, mild emetophobia, arguing, panic attack, dissociation, altered mental state, guilt 

-

They had very little time to process, after Puff-- Anxiety-- their rescuer collapsed limply to the ground.

Roman and Patton each burst into their own hysterics, but Logan was utterly silent. He was frozen, mind racing and connecting a thousand little dots, like realizing a constellation had been right in front of you, you’d just somehow missed the brightest star.

The form of Anxiety was sprawled out undeniably in front of them, struck down by the attack that had been levied against Puff, because he was Puff. He’d wondered why Anxiety wasn’t prone to their shrinking dilemma, but he’d been dealing with it the longest. Anxiety’s withdrawal and Puff’s strange behavior were causation and correlation.

Anxiety lay before them, but whatever he had done to change his form, to protect them against attack, it had changed him. Small purple scales curled over his cheekbones, two curved, deer-like ears lay limp on the sides of his head, and even a tail where there had been none before.

If there had ever been any way to refute his connection to Puff, his appearance now countered it single-handedly.

In the end, it was the doubts that snapped them all out of it.

Sinuous, shifting forms that changed with every blink, they crawled up from their blind spots, appearing in the corners of their vision.

Roman snapped his sword hand back up reflexively, frowning, but Logan could easily read the confusion scrawled across his posture. He’d complained at length about the creatures, their persistent aggression and the way that they always heralded Anxiety’s appearance in this realm, like the world’s creepiest minions.

But Anxiety lay prone at their feet, in no state to control anything, and furthermore, the glittering eyes of the doubts seemed almost… locked on him, glinting with malice.

More questions, and the only one who could answer them was unconscious and quickly gaining a sickly tint to his skin. The doubts were creatures of despair, and if they reached Patton or Anxiety-- the more emotion-driven pair out of the four of them-- the results could be disastrous. They needed out, now.

Logan firmed his shoulders, moving to cut through the panicked back-and-forth his companions were doing.

“Roman,” he called, taking reference from every instructor that Thomas had ever respected to insert authority into his tone, “pick Anxiety up.”

The creative side jerked, his eyes drawn down to Anxiety for a second before flickering away. “And give up my stalwart defense? We’ll be overcome before we reach anything resembling an exit!”

“You need to pick up Anxiety,” Logan repeated, and took a deep breath, shedding all the dirt and gore that he had accumulated while trekking through the Imagination. “I’m bringing the exit to us.”

Applying his function to a space that wasn’t real tended to... destabilize it. It was a last resort, the sort of thing that they’d figured out early on should be avoided. Roman demonstrably put his heart and soul into his work, after all, and fracturing it hurt Creativity as much as the realm itself. Even something as small as Logan breaking his own immersion made Roman twitch, let alone what he was about to pull.

Roman’s eyes went wide with understanding, and then grim determination. He sheathed his sword back into nothing and knelt down at the fallen Side’s side, only hesitating for the barest moment before sliding his arms under his shoulders and knees and lifting him into the air.

The motion seemed to jar Anxiety, and he let out a pained whine that wouldn’t have sounded out of place coming from Puff. Lifted up like this, they could see the singed gouge that tore through the back of his hoodie, the smoking, rotting injury lined up on his spine in the exact same place it had hit Puff.

“It looks bad,” Patton whispered, his eyes wet and his hands half-pressed over his mouth. The doubts were closer now, circling like wolves. They couldn’t be allowed to worsen Anxiety’s condition.

“We will handle it,” Logan said, not allowing even the slightest tremor in his voice as he held his hands out. He met Roman’s eyes, one last warning, before closing his own and focusing all his attention on dismantling the environment around him.

It was all illusory, from the faint scent of ozone lingering in the air to the cold stone around them. None of it was real, not the magic or the monsters, not when one thought about them logically. The Imagination was a limitless space, shaped and crafted by Creativity, and so any distance between them and the placement of an ‘exit’ was simply imaginary.

There was no logical reason to traverse an imaginary path, and so with one yank, Logan pulled and then folded the space between them and the exit, like crumpling a piece of paper to make two ends meet.

The landscape crinkled around them, bricks shattering and environments crashing together with discordant scraping. Roman would be feeling the effects of the hole in his work for a while, but there was a doorway ahead of them and the doubts were scattered and caught in the folds and tears Logic had created.

“Move,” Logan said through gritted teeth, and Roman staggered through the exit, Patton hot on his tail. He stepped through as well, the door slamming shut on its own behind him. His presence wouldn’t be tolerated in the realm for a good long while after this.

He beckoned Roman over, shoving away the guilt he felt at the other Side’s pained grimace. If his power had just held long enough for the Imagination’s effects to be wiped from Anxiety as well--

The wound pulsed once, as though to announce its stubborn survival. It was glowing a painful violet, the injury resembling nothing more than a slowly expanding Lichtenburg figure.

Logan’s knuckles went white as he looked down at it. He hadn’t even managed to make the injury into something real, something more manageable to treat.

He reached out, grasping again for that sense of unreality, of rejection, and Roman pulled away, backing up.

“No more,” he said firmly, his voice a sharp contrast to the shaking of his arms. Logan felt that familiar guilt threaten to flood for a moment, before-- “Specs, you’re about to pass out. You used too much.”

He blinked, glancing down at his hand. It was shaking, too. He’d overtaxed himself, been too involved in the previous daydream to shut it down without any backlash.

Logic shouldn’t have been too involved in anything. He clenched his fist, abruptly furious with himself.

“Whatever that witch’s calamitous curse caused, it’s spreading slowly for now,” Roman announced, still seeming almost skittish with Anxiety in his arms. “We have yet time to uncover the truth.”

Patton pressed the back of his hand against Anxiety’s forehead, hissing sympathetically. “He’s burning up. I don’t know about curing curses, but-- we can at least help with this.”

They all had memories of Thomas’s parents coaxing him through fevers and flus, but Patton was the best at actually following that example. He directed Roman to the couch, flitted back and forth between the kitchen and the living room with all the classic illness aids.

“This is a spell-based sickness. There’s no reason to believe that this illness will function similarly to Thomas’s past experiences,” Logan started, and then was promptly cut off by Anxiety jerking halfway up off the couch, twisting, and vomiting into the small trash can Patton had just brought out. “... I stand corrected.”

His voice seemed to drag Anxiety’s attention from his retching, his head bobbing up to look around.

He stared out at them with bleary eyes for a heartbeat, all of them quiet and frozen and waiting, and then he slumped back down into both the couch cushions and unconsciousness. A mutual breath of relief went around the room.

“So, are we… going to talk about it?” Patton asked, as though half-dreading the answer.

“Talk about what?” Roman snapped sarcastically, crossing his arms. “The fact that apparently our dear draconic companion has been none other than Anxiety, the scourge on our home, the blight on our fields, the bane of Thomas’s existence, this entire time?”

“We don’t own any fields,” Logan interjected.

“Well, if we did, the guy would probably blight them! He’s a-- a blighter!” Roman replied, increasingly higher in pitch. “This is probably some kind of trick, a foul villainous plot for some greater purpose we don’t understand yet. Anxiety can’t possibly be— have been—!”

“Talking shit?” A familiar drawl rang out, a dark figure appearing on the stairs between one blink and the next and making them all jump. “I thought I heard someone say-- Anxiety?”

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone looked between the two identical figures in the room.

“Well,” the Anxiety that was clearly actually Deceit said, glancing over the three of them, “I don’t suppose I could convince you that he’s the fake one? … No? What a shame.”

He lifted his shoulders from Virgil’s perpetual slouch easily, shedding his disguise in favor of his usual attire. Several more puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“You were the one who appeared when we introduced Puff to Thomas,” Logan said, cutting off the startled exclamations from the others. “And just now-- you returned from appearing to Thomas, didn’t you? As Anxiety, not yourself.”

Deceit rolled his eyes, adjusting his cufflinks absently. “Yes, well, someone had to do his job while he was… preoccupied. Or were you all so remiss as to not notice the decline that comes with a complete absence of Anxiety?”

They all bristled in unison. “All we’ve been doing as of late is trying to figure out why Thomas has been struggling recently,” Logan replied stiffly. “We cannot jump to conclusions based on the seemingly random reticence of one Side.”

“Oh, but now you know it’s not random at all, don’t you?” Deceit purred, stepping down the stairs one by one. “After all, Occam’s Razor has never proved to be true before.”

“You’re the one who’s slithering around impersonating other Sides!” Roman cut in with a sharp accusation. “How do we know you’re not the reason dear Thomas has been acting off?”

Deceit’s lip curled, displaying a curved fang. “I haven’t been the only reason Thomas hasn’t fallen apart entirely! But if you’d really like to cast blame, I’m happy to inform all three of you that this is your fault.”

“Our fault?” Roman and Patton’s voices overlapped, one outraged and the other alarmed. Logan frowned, smoothing down his tie absently.

“Are you speaking under false pretenses again? Only moments ago, you were claiming that Anxiety’s… disappearance was the source of Thomas’s recent struggle.”

Deceit’s gloves crinkled with the force of his grip on the banister. “You three are the ones who drove Anxiety to believe that he was superfluous, to the point that he decided somehow trapping himself in the form of a— a pet was better than spending another moment as himself in your presence,” he spat, each word furious and bitter.

There was a tense pause, and Deceit visibly reeled in his anger with a deep breath. “I refuse to spend any longer debating sins with you. If you’ll hand over Anxiety—,”

“No!” Logan startled himself with the sharp response, but Roman and Patton alike had echoed it. They exchanged looks, all of them struggling for a moment to put it to words.

Finally, Patton turned to where Deceit was staring at them with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know why Anxiety chose to— chose this, but I do know that he got hurt trying to protect us. And if it really is our fault-- ...Well, it wouldn’t be right either way, making you or him deal with this alone.”

“And that’s assuming you even have the tools to deal with it,” Logan added, earning himself an irritated glare from the Dark Side. “That was not a slight against you. To elaborate on my meaning, Roman’s experience with the realm and the perpetrator behind the injury could be invaluable in treating it. It would be remiss for us to not offer aid.”

There was a beat, and Roman looked up belatedly from Anxiety, his face pale and eyes distant. “Right,” he said, and then stronger, “Right. We’ll help Anxiety overcome this curse, and then speak with him ourselves on the matter of blame.”

Deceit looked between the three of them assessingly, gaze occasionally flickering down to where Anxiety lay. “I could handle this perfectly well,” he snapped, “but fine. However. If you worsen his condition and force me to continue this ridiculous charade… you will all certainly enjoy the consequences.”

He let the threat sit in the air ominously. Logan thought his forced disdain was a rather strange way to express protectiveness over Anxiety’s well-being, but to be frank, Deceit’s motives could be difficult for him to parse on a good day.

“Deceit,” Patton called before the other Side could sink out. “You’re welcome to come check on Anxiety whenever you’d like. I… I just wanted you to know.”

Deceit cast a glance back at Anxiety, unreadable, and sank out without another word.

—-

Half an hour after Deceit’s revelations, Anxiety woke up.

They hadn’t noticed at first. Patton had been in the kitchen, making enough soup to feed a small army, and Logan and Roman had been preoccupied with bickering, trying to piece together a timeline.

“—can’t be certain that any of the appearances prior to Puff’s introduction to Thomas were Deceit. Anxiety did not withdraw entirely until after that event,” Logan was saying, sharpening his tone to keep Roman from interrupting for the sixth time.

“But the things he said, it has to have been Deceit,” Roman retorted again. “Perhaps this has been going on for months, all part of a plot to replace Anxiety!”

“And do what? Thomas actively ignores Anxiety as often as possible,” Logan stated, the fact making something in his stomach twist oddly. “It would be pointless for Deceit to replace someone with little to no influence.”

“Who knows how the minds of Dark Sides work?” Roman scoffed, and then glanced over Logan’s shoulder and stood. Logan turned to watch him adjust the blankets that had shuffled part ways off of Anxiety.

Roman paused, and then leaned in slightly. “The curse mark—,” he started, and then was cut off by two and a half blankets being tossed directly at his face.

Anxiety scrambled off of the couch with surprising speed for someone who clearly could barely feel any of their limbs. His eyes were wide with unmistakable terror, pupils slit, and Logan lifted his hands non-aggressively.

“Anxiety, calm down,” he started, and Anxiety shot off towards the stairs with frantic and unsteady steps. From this angle, Logan could see the way the wound left from the curse was pulsing and expanding, and felt his own jolt of fear.

Patton rushed out of the kitchen just in time to see Anxiety overshoot and slam into the wall beside the stairs, bouncing off without a sound and struggling to regain his momentum like an animal mindlessly fleeing for its life.

“Patton, grab him before he hurts himself even further!” Logan called, and Patton hurriedly half-tackled the Side, pinning his arms and lifting him up.

Anxiety keened, voice warping into that double tone, and then kicked out against the wall, nearly toppling the both of them. By now, Roman had freed himself, and he jumped to Patton’s side to lend a steadying arm.

Logan hurried forward, careful to stay out of range of Anxiety’s still-kicking legs.

“Anxiety. Anxiety, can you hear me? You need to breathe deeply now, please follow this pattern,” he tried to count steadily, even as Anxiety stared right through him and made awful, gut-wrenching whimpers. His eyeshadow was streaked down the sides of his face like inky tear tracks. “3, 4, 5– Please, Anxiety, we’re not trying to hurt you.”

“It feels like it’s growing,” Patton whispered, Anxiety’s back still pressed to him. Roman pushed the neckline of the other Side’s hoodie aside, and swore at the dark, angular tendrils that were creeping up to his shoulder blades.

“We need him to calm down,” Logan said, but there wasn’t a single soothing method that would work if the person was too far gone to even sense him. “I don’t—,”

“Okay. Okay, I’m— I’m going to calm him down,” Patton said firmly, and then stepped back from the other two and maneuvered Anxiety so he was facing Patton. Logan recognized what Patton was attempting only a moment before Anxiety was pulled into a firm, encircling hug.

Patton’s ability to share positive emotions through physical contact— once jokingly dubbed a ‘drug hug’ by Roman— hadn’t been used frequently since they were all significantly younger. Nowadays, with Logic clearly not needing emotions and Creativity too prideful to ask for one, Patton mostly only used the ability accidentally— slipping up when he was hugging someone while too excited or happy.

Since switching over to this half of the Mindscape, Anxiety had never been exposed to this particular ability. The other Side twitched in Patton’s grasp for a moment, tail thrashing, holding out far longer than Logan expected before slowly melting into the embrace. When Patton finally pulled away, Anxiety was blinking dazedly but seemed considerably more aware of his surroundings.

“His back,” Logan started, and then stopped short.

The wound’s unnatural spread had stopped, the previous panicked pulsing of it reduced to a slow, muted metronome.

“His— Is it based on his heart rate?” Logan asked, bewildered and hating it. “It can’t be consciousness, he’s conscious now and the growth has stopped entirely, but it hadn’t receded at all earlier—,”

“Fear,” Roman said, his mouth set grimly. “A curse for Anxiety that feeds on fear. That’s exactly the kind of cruel irony that the Dragonwitch loves.”

Patton tightened his grip on Anxiety’s hand, his face wrinkled with worry. After a moment, Anxiety squeezed his hand back, still seeming a little distant from the actual conversation.

Logan knew from experience that getting one of those hugs at full power could feel like the emotional equivalent of being dropped into cold water unexpectedly-- it was a shock to the system, one that took a while to adjust to. He wouldn’t be surprised if Anxiety’s nonverbal state lingered for a while longer.

“Then… how do we fix it?” Patton asked. “Do we need him to… stop being afraid for real? Can we do that?”

Logan was quiet, thinking about how fearful Anxiety had looked for the brief moments he was fully aware around them. Roman looked away, and then shook his head.

“I need to return to the Imagination to check on something,” he announced, gaze distant. “I should… probably begin restructuring it, as well.”

Logan hid a wince. “I apologize for being so rough on the realm,” he said, remembering the way Roman had shaken with strain.

Roman waved it off. “You did what you had to, to get us all out. More useful than… well, consider yourself magnanimously forgiven.”

With a smile that seemed a pale facsimile of his normal one, he departed.

Logan turned to Patton, who looked a little wobbly at the knees. “We will be able to help him eventually, we just need more time to investigate,” he said as gently as he could, leading them both back to the couch. “Until then, we can take shifts to look after him.”

Patton curled his free hand around Logan’s, searching his gaze as though seeking some kind of solution. “We’ll figure this out together, right?”

“Right.”

[zenith-impact]

i don’t know if you’re still accepting may prompt requests, so if you aren’t, just ignore this!

could i get either memory lane + xiao or albedo + homecoming? i adore your writing btw!! you’re probably my favorite genshin author as of rn. i hope you have a great/day night— oh, and happy anniversary to you and your husband!! 💞

Thank you so much ☆ ～('▽^人) Reading that really made my day!

I went ahead and did both prompts! Albedo's half will be under the cut. Thank you for the request!

The rain drizzles off of the roof of the inn, catching the light from the sun as it slips gently out of the sky. A rainbow curves in the distance, but it too is starting to fade. Some, like the people standing on the balcony below, might call a day such as this beautiful. Others, like the guests curled up by the fire or locked up in their rooms might call it a bother. For Xiao, it was a time to reminisce. A time to think on the centuries he's lived and piece together the small things that keep him going. The voices in his head retreat, leaving only the sound of the water plopping against the wood. His skin is covered in droplets but he ignores them, preferring to stare into the horizon.

Memories were difficult for Xiao. Not because he has a bad memory, but because he doesn’t have very many good ones. Meeting Rex Lapis was a shining beacon in a sea of violence and chaos. Darkness is often the only thing he sees. A haze in which he is disconnected from the pain he suffered in his early years. Other times his memories are crystal clear- something the voices that plague him make sure of. He reflects on all of this, ignoring the rain as it seeps into his skin. He is an adepti. The cold doesn't bother him, nor will it ever.

And yet, as he tries to focus on the karmic debt he holds, he finds his mind drifting back to you. The moments you share are much more recent. They are events that he never thought he'd experience. Memories that he never imagined would be his own. Laughter that makes his heart race. The gentle caress of fingers on his battle hardened skin and scars. The feeling of your hand in his, squeezing as you tell him another story of the life he has become a part of.

Years ago, he almost rejected you. Now, he can't imagine a world without you in his life.

"Xiao?"

He looks down, realizing that the balcony is now empty save for you and the towel in your hand. The rain has ceased as the sun dips below the horizon, giving way to the full moon. You are as captivating as ever, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame. "Why are you here?" He says.

You smile. "Because you are."

He huffs as he hops off the rooftop. "And if I wasn't?"

"Then I would have waited for you."

"For how long?"

"As long as it took."

Satisfied, he leans on the railing overlooking the Dihua Marsh. You join him, still smiling. "I can fix that you know."

"Fix what?"

You gesture to him in a dramatic fashion. "All of that."

"Are you implying I need fixing?"

You roll your eyes. "I'd just be drying you off, silly."

"I do not need your help," He says, though his dripping hair betrays him as water slithers down his face.

"Please," you say, holding out the towel. Your Hydro vision glitters, taunting him. "Water is my specialty."

Xiao huffs, crossing his arms. "Do what you will." You were moving before he even finished his sentence, dropping the towel on his head with little fanfare. He glares at you, but you just laugh as you massage his scalp. He feels the water seeping into the towel, drying his hair in record time. You leave it there as you take a step back, drawing a circle in the air with your finger. Water rises off his body and clothes, gathering in a ball in front of him. You reach your hands out, directing the ball to float between them as you draw more in. The dampness on his skin fades. His clothes return to their normal softness. The last of the drops that cling to his mask slip away. You grin, mesmerized by your own handiwork.

Xiao's expression softens as he watches you, committing every detail of this moment to memory. The way your eyes glisten. The way your skin and muscles move with every small flick of your wrist or twist of your arm. The way the clothes fold and stretch with your body. The rising moon that fills the background with silver light and accentuates everything about you. The grin you give him as you make the water disappear. "Come on " you say, looping your arm in his. "Let's get out of the cold." With that, you guide him back to the room that has become your second home. Xiao follows, his heart yearning for you every step of the way.

Of all the memories Xiao has tucked away over the years, he decides that you will always be his favorite.

Albedo liked to think he was good at managing his stress. Experiments often went awry and he was always there to calm everybody down and get it under control. His time on Dragonspine was inherently stressful but he never let it get to him as it was just another experiment but in colder weather. Oftentimes he didn't even acknowledge things that should have been stressful to begin with. He doesn't have the same worries as someone like Sucrose or Timaeus. Albedo simply focuses on the task at hand and gets it all done.

But today was the day you were coming home after nearly two months away, and Albedo felt nothing but sheer anxiety.

"Albedo?" Sucrose said, peering over her notes. At first he said nothing, staring down at his sketchbook without actually seeing anything. He swore he heard his name, but his brain doesn't connect the dots. It wasn't until Sucrose cleared her throat and tried again that he was actually able to listen. "Albedo!"

"Yes?" He said, glancing up at her. His posture was rigid. His hand was tight on the pencil. His eyes felt the urge to dart around the room as the rest of him wished he could pace to relieve some stress. It is an uncomfortable position to be in, and Albedo couldn't help but feel bad as worry flickered across Sucrose's face.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Albedo sighs. “They are coming home today.” Sucrose nods, her expression flickering to understanding.

“Why does that worry you?”

“It’s been so long…”

“Two months isn’t very long.” Sucrose puts a finger to her chin in thought. “Actually… this is the first time that they’ve left Mondstadt, isn’t it? Usually its you that has to go on these excursions.”

“That is the most common scenario in our relationship, yes.”

“But they’ve started coming with you,” Sucrose said.

Albedo nodded. “During our last two investigations.”

“But you had work to do for the Knights.”

“Yes.”

“Are you worried they won’t come back?”

He ponders this. He is not worried that you ran away or something like that. Your entire life is in Mondstadt. Not just your relationship with him, but your family, all of your friends, your livelihood… you weren’t the kind of person to abandon everything on a whim. You’d even been slightly nervous about the trip, as it was rare for you to leave the city without him or your family by your side. You were a capable person, yes, and you’d trained for years to defend yourself. Anything life threw at you, Albedo was confident you could handle. So, he said, “No I’m not.”

“Are you worried they don’t love you anymore?”

Albedo froze at that statement, but quickly parsed through it. The two of you had been together for quite some time now, and he had long since gotten over his fear of losing you. He couldn’t think of any glaring holes in your relationship. You had left for this excursion on the best of terms with both of you taking a few days off before the event to enjoy your time together. You had even expressed sincere regret that you could not take him with you. So, once again, he said, “No I’m not.”

“Then what is there to worry about?”

Albedo didn’t know, yet his stress didn’t dissipate. Sucrose seemed to notice this, for she just tilted her head and smiled. “You’re worried about seeing them again.”

“I… don’t follow.”

“It’s been so long,” She said, putting her notes down on the table. “You probably want everything to be perfect.” She sat at the seat next to him, reaching for her own pencil. “You probably imagine them running through the gates of Mondstadt and straight into your waiting arms. Maybe you’re even holding flowers or a nice gift. Maybe you’ve planned the perfect dinner or cleaned the house. Maybe you just want to spend time with them, just the two of you.”

“None of that is inherently stressful.”

“But the idea that things might not be perfect is to you,” She said. “But you know them. They’ll want to return to life as seamlessly as possible. No fanfare. No worries. No problem.” She pointed the end of her pencil at Albedo. “You just want them to know how much you love them.”

Albedo glanced down at his sketchbook where an unfinished drawing of you lay. It was one of his slowest drawings to date as he worked between his experiments, only committing to paper what he was absolutely certain was perfect from his memories. He’d started it the day you left, reflecting on everything that made you, well, you. He’d taken multiple pages just sketching your eyes, your hands, your feet. He’d spent an entire day working on the various ways you might mess with your hair during the excursion and imagined the clothes he knew you took with you. But even now, the day you were meant to come home, his image wasn’t quite done. He needed to see you again. Commit another version of your form to his memory so that the image was as perfect as you were.

“Perfection,” He muttered.

“Don’t worry about that,” Sucrose said. “Just be yourself.”

Albedo turned back to his drawing and got to work, pulling on the images that filled his mind on a daily basis. He drew the gates of Mondstadt, open and inviting. He drew the dandelions floating in the wind outside and the grass just on the edges. In the center, he finished his sketch of you - bright eyed and smiling like you always did. He picked apart every detail down to the laces on your shoes. The more he drew, the more his anxiety slipped away. This was his comfort zone. This was what reminded him of the person he was waiting for.

“Albedo?”

He rose at the sound of your voice, sketchbook in hand as he rushed to meet you, his stress finally forgotten.