#sorry I forgot to upload it here oopsie

[why-its-kai]

Full resolution detail scan of the illustration by Trigun key animator and episode director Yoshimitsu Ohashi printed in the “Monthly Satellite Times” newspaper insert included in the Trigun Stage 4 Laserdisc release.

Scanned, stitched, and newsprint paper texture removed by me.

[sangoqueenkoko]

KAVEH

beautiful

Fluff

MAIN MASTERLIST | DENDRO MASTERLIST

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my baby boy kaveh came home! cocogoat came first but he bought dehya along!

Summary: he simply cannot get enough of you, to him you are simply beautiful. and he can just go on and on explaining how.

Warnings? Non! Just Kaveh being himself <3

Uploaded on my birthday!

Contains Alhaitham and my bbg, Kaveh!

There Alhaitham was, sitting in his room with his nose in a book. Well... it was. That was until Kaveh came into his room to give him his clean clothes, as it was his turn to do them that week. And he had not long come back from a date with you. And my oh my! Alhaitham was convinced at some point he could see hearts in his eyes. He was defiantly struck with cupids bow.

He knew you were beautiful.

Alhaitham sighed, his hand resting on the side of his forehead, "will you calm down and give talking a break for a while? You have been talking to yourself about (Y/N) ever since you came home from your date. I could even hear you from here while you were doing the house chores! Through closed doors!"

"Sorry Haitham" Kaveh said, with a genuine tone, "but they're just so nice! They don't mind if I just talk on and on, th-they just listen! Not saying that you don't, but they- I like them Alhaitham. I really do. I think they're beautiful."

He mentioned that word a lot.

Beautiful.

Kaveh's roommate thinks that he tends to be overly sensitive about everyone and everything he crosses paths with, and he's constantly making a fuss about nothing. Maybe it's because he's too emotionally fragile? That's what he thought, but ever since he met you, Kaveh has been much happier, with a genuine smile. And both of them were Okay with the idea if Kaveh forgot his keys, which that being a lot of the time, he could stay with you for the night. This means Alhaitham can get a quiet night's sleep.

Until there are nights when he can't.

And that was because Kaveh was awake doing his architecture stuff, OR, you had come over for the evening. Alhaitham didn't mind at all, he loves you, and he thinks you're a real sweetheart. But the thing that annoys him is when Kaveh doesn't tell him in advance so that he can tidy up the place to make it pleasant for guests. Which of course you said you didn't mind.

But after you left, Kaveh got a small scolding from Alhaitham.

...

Anyway! Ahem...

"Alhaitham?" Kaveh called out as he stood by the front door inside their shared house, "do you know where I put my keys when I came in yesterday?" he asked, as when he came in yesterday, he was a little preoccupied, you see, it was your birthday soon, and Kaveh wanted to make you something absolutely perfect, something that you will remember until the end of the universe. But amongst making your present, he had realised that he needed something as he was cut short, thus him needing to go shopping. But he needed his keys. Wherever they may be.

"Uh, no idea" Alhaitham said as he was, surprise surprise, reading a book. Hoping that he answered correctly as he wasn't really paying attention.

"Ugh fine, you better be home when I get back!" Kaveh exclaimed, opening the door before leaving with what mora that he had saved up for anything for you. He would rather not be locked outside. Again.

Whilst walking down the busy streets of Sumeru City, Kaveh counted the mora he had in his little pocket purse to make sure he had all that he needed. Until he accidentally bumped into someone, sending them and himself to the ground, some coins falling to the ground with them.

He sighed and shook his head, rapidly collecting himself before looking up to see who fell with him.

And oopsie daisy.

It was you.

"(Y/N)! I am so sorry! A-Are you Okay?" He asked as he got up and immediately helped you onto your feet and collect the dropped mora.

"Yeah, I'm fine" he nodded with a smile and a small laugh, "may I ask what you're in the city for? Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all" he chuckled, melting at the sight of your beautiful smile, "I just came out to pick up some things I need for a project. I hope you'll like it when it's done."

And once it is done, he will get to see your beautiful smile once again.

--

god i am so rusty

apologies that it is short, it has been a while, life is a bummer

aiya

he’s so baby boy

[covencupid]

I Want You (or The Cabin Story)

Fair warning, I wrote this on discord and then copy pasted it onto docs, so if there are some inconsistencies I apologize, but maybe I just like to keep ya on your toes.

BIG THANKS to @mamamemequeen because I pretty much wrote this in the DMs oopsi.

Danny's had his eye on you. He's been finding himself enjoying the times he interacts with you a little too much. He's got to get you out of his system. A little house call. Once that's done it'll be easier for him to go for the kill. Right?

Pairing: Danny Johnson X Fem!Reader. Use of gendered language.

TW/CW: The usual (stalking, manipulation, threats of violence, actual violence) gore, descriptions of torture, corpses, and murder. Psychological horror, child murder (imma need you to hold your judgement on this one, it's not what you think, but it's also not good), hallucinations, descriptions of visual hallucinations.

Tags will be updated as needed, but to be honest I kinda forgot what I put in this.

I will be posting as much as I can in one go, but it's long, so I might have to upload in parts. Yeah, I'm definitely posting it in parts. This is chapter one.

Word Count is 15k+, this was supposed to be a one-shot about y'all fuckin at the drive-in, I don't know how it happened.

Oh one last thing, there is kinda a prequel/backstory part I haven't finished about Danny and "prom". Whatever you think it is, it's probably not gonna be like that.

Sorry one last last thing that I'm seeing now reformatting this from discord to the docs to here is that I kinda wrote Danny and Reader's POV back and forth but a little inconsistent. I will try to make the changes in POV a little clearer with spacing, but I apologize for any confusion!

Your Place // The Cabin // The Woods

~I Want You~

~Chapter One - Your Place~

Danny waited for the perfect night. A storm was coming. The whole neighborhood was snuggled up tight in their big warm beds and you? You were painting your nails while a gorey Japanese B-Movie played on the small tv in your bedroom. You had no idea you were being stalked, hunted like a deer in the forest. 

Danny had to stop and take a look at you first, before he went in. He saw you, legs bent to give you a place to rest your hands while you painted them. God, your legs. He watched the light of the film dance off your legs, following the glow that reached your thighs. How it faded as it dipped to the little peek of your ass from the bottom of your shorts where you sat. He swallowed harder than he meant to. He’d have to readjust himself before he continued inside.

Danny waltzed into your home from the back patio door. Unlocked? Baby there’s a killer on the loose. He stepped into the dark entry way, noting how little the sound from your room carried. That would be useful. He eased into your hallway hearing the lovely lilt of your laughter as he neared your door. The sound made him salivate. He plucked a delicate metal frame of a vintage botanical illustration and let it fall to the floor as he swiftly crossed past your door to the opposite end of the hallway. In a second you were out and making your way for the pesky little frame.

“God you little shit!” you scolded the picture. You had complained to your friend about the framed piece you had been gifted that had a nasty little habit of slipping off it’s nail. Always a bit too heavy. Danny breezed into your room while you degraded the drawing of little flowers. Too easy. You’re just letting me right in, huh?

“And you better keep it down out there!” you called out to the frame as you shut your door on the way back. When your head whipped back to your bed your heart jumped to your throat and fell back down to your gut. A howling ghost stared back at you, reclined in your bed, your nail polish in hand.

“H-how did y-you-” you struggled to find your words and he, seemingly mercifully, cut you off.

“Get in? You let me in, sweetheart. Thanks by the way, really saved me time.” You could feel his smug smile radiating from underneath his mask. Dread chilled your veins. You were frozen by the door. As much as Danny enjoyed the doe-eyed look of fear you were giving him, you were too far for his liking. He pat the bed beside him. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

For a moment it felt like you lost all ability to move. You lifted your right foot to take a step forward but your leg unexpectedly shook. Before you could process your involuntary movement you heard a laugh from the hooded figure lounging in your bed. “How can I have your legs shaking when I haven’t even touched you?”

Heat spread across your cheeks, breaking through the ice in your veins. Indignation rising in your chest.

“You- You’re a murderer! Showing up here in my bed, I’m gonna be scared! It has nothing to do with- I am not-” The words flowed out from your mouth faster than you could string them together cohesively. The sound of his rippling laughter cut you off. You wanted to slap him and wipe off the smug look you knew he was wearing. He crossed his arms

“Hey! Do I look like a threat to you? I’m just hanging out here. Lookin for a manicure, and maybe a better movie.”

You scoffed. “I can see your knife holster from here, not exactly “hanging out” gear. And for the record Blossom of Blood is a cult classic, not that you would know anything about it.”

Danny leaned forward. “First of all, how do you know I’m not just happy to see you? Second, no. You’re thinking of Bloody Blossom, what you’ve got is the cheap knock off made ten years later. Get your facts straight before trying to get all snobby with me.”

You mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. The nerve of this psycho to break into your home and lecture you about your movie choices.

“Hey” The aforementioned psycho snapped at you. Patting the bed next to him more aggressively. You inched your way closer to him. You felt uneasy looking down at him the moment you reached the bed. He sat comfortably nestled in your plush pillows, using a stuffed animal to prop up his arm. You wanted to beat him over the head with it. It would likely be your final act on this earth, but you felt you would feel at peace. “Sit.” There was no space for argument in his tone. Not exactly a command, but still decidedly firm. You sat where he told you to and began to look intently at your hands, gripping each other tight. From your periphery you could see the black mass of his form lean in to loom over you. You felt him delicately take your chin between his thumb and forefinger with his gloved hand. The skin on your arms pricked up with goosebumps. He’s turning your head to look at him as he’s telling you in a sing-song tone “look at me”.

You stare, wide eyes welling up with tears you wanted to keep hidden, into the black holes of his mask. You wish to look so far into them to reach the eyes you felt boring into you. As your eyes remained locked on him, he plucked your hand from your own grip to place the bottle of nail polish in your palm.

“Go on.” he said as he reclined back into your bed, crossing his feet as he extended a gloved hand out at you.

“Uh- you want me to-?” you looked between the bottle of polish and the masked man before you.

“I said I’m here for a manicure, sweets. Come on and make it nice or ya know…” he wiggled the hunting knife in your face. You gasped and grabbed his other hand in an instant. He chuckled as you held his large gloved hand with your comparatively small one. You held the polish right next to it. Does he want me to take off his glove? Paint the fingers? No, right?

Sensing your conflict, he wiggled his fingers in your face. “You can take it off.” He teased.

You put the polish down beside you as you worked the glove off his hand. You placed it on your lap. You felt hot, feeling his eyes rake over you as you gently held his hand, surprisingly warm. The tips of your fingers lightly grazed over his and felt the callouses there. You felt flushed. A killer walks into your room at night… and he tells you to paint his nails? He’s insane. You laid his hand on your lap as you picked the bottle of black nail polish back up and twisted the top off. You held the bottle between your thighs and picked his hand back up slightly. Your hands shook slightly as the applicator neared his nail bed. When you finally laid the first coat down you felt like you could breathe a sigh of relief.

Danny, feeling your unsteady breath reach the top of his hand, blurted out “Don’t fuck up!” quick enough to make your heart jump.

“Fuck! Don’t do that, that’s gonna make me fuck up!” You gripped his hand a little tighter. The feeling of your soft, warm hands on his sent a wave of heat course through him. He chuckled. As you were about to paint the next nail he quickly pulled his hand back and held it in front of you. A small sound of annoyance got caught in your throat. He reached his hand back out to you but pulled it back when you reached for it. You were getting flustered. The way your brows knotted together as the speckles of blush played on your cheeks was just delightful. It was so easy to work you up. He extended his hand out to you again. You stared at him for a second before going to reach back out for him. You looked between his hand and himself in rapid fire succession until you went to get his hand. In an instant he went to whip back his hand but you slammed your free palm into his and gripped his hand firmly until his fingers softly folded over yours. His fingertips rested on the back of your hand. A soft, self satisfied smile danced on your lips as you plucked the applicator back up to paint the next nail. Danny felt the grip you maintained on him. Firm, warm, tender. As you painted the rest of his nails, his thumb slowly ran along the side of your hand, down to graze your wrist. You just needed his thumb, but it continued it’s slow glide along your skin. What were you feeling? Annoyance for sure, he wants something done and won’t even stop moving to let you do it. But the way his thumb caressed the stretch of skin he was able to reach, you felt a flutter in your belly. Stop, what are you even thinking. His hunting knife is dangerously close to his free hand. But should you tell him to stop? Should you try painting it as it teases the delicate flesh of your wrist? Should you tell him he has to stop, so you can paint his nail. And then? Let him continue? Let him run the freshly painted hand up your arm, up to your neck, down to your- Stop. Just. Stop, what are you thinking? This is a monster, in your bed, in your grasp. Think like you want to make it out alive.

Danny can see the muscles of your throat straining as his thumb stroked up and down. It was getting harder to just have you there sitting in front of him. He was beginning to need to close the distance between you. He noted how intently your eyes watched his thumb dance over your skin. You looked entranced, he wanted to see that pretty face up close. Danny thought about his options. The pros and cons flittered about his head but the most overwhelming image was of you, those pretty legs straddling him as his freshly painted hand gripped the creamy flesh of your thigh. Feeling your palm turn clammy, his grip on your hand turned into a vice as he pulled you down to him with a force that wrenched a yelp from your lips. That was nice. He thought. Oh the sounds you could make for him. His other hand went to grip your waist. Your left leg sat between his as the sudden movement had jerked you haphazardly over him.

“What the fuck?” you managed out as you tried to pull yourself up from the place on his chest where your head landed. He smelled like leather and oak. Something else too, slightly sweet mixed with something metallic. Your free hand helped you gain some leverage on the bed. His hand on your waist went down to pat the side of your thigh.

“Move this over, straddle me.” the words made you blush, this time obvious and bright.

You sat uneasily on his lap, scared to put your full weight on him. Modesty? How cute. Danny mused as he grabbed you by your hips and forced you to sit on him. A little gasp escaped you from the force. Danny was drinking you up. The incredulous look on your face, the way your hands fell to his chest for stability. Fuck. Restraint was going to prove much more difficult.

You felt frozen in place. What the fuck. What in the actual ever loving fuck? The screams coming from the movie on your left made it feel all the more surreal. They were pitched up and down and underscored by a synth that harmonized with the wails. Normally this would be your favorite part to point out to the people who you would (force to) watch this with. Usually met with strained smiles and equally strained eyebrows raised to the hairline. You forgave the expression on account of the dizzying fifteen minute chase scene that preceded it. You acquiesced that it was "a bit much" for the casual viewer, but damn was it beautifully shot. God, you wanted to feel normal again. Movies, and painting your nails, your nails. Not the nails of some psycho freak that is making himself comfortable on your bed. He got mud on your sheets. You wanted to reach your hands just a bit forward, just enough to reach his neck and strangle him. But his chest felt broad, sturdy, and his grip felt strong. You didn't like your odds in that fights. He didn't feel threatening though, hunting knife aside. He felt like a boyfriend trying to turn a movie date frisky. God, what are you even thinking. Be normal for the love of everything good.

You defaulted to your brand of normalcy. "The screams in this scene were pitched up and down according to their tone. If you pay attention you can hear that they added a synth to subtly harmonize with the screaming." The words just tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. You weren't even looking at him. Your eyes were locked on the screen glowing bright with scenes of carnage.

For all of the cruelties Danny had doled out, this was true torture. With the glow of the television illuminating her, she looked absolutely divine astride him. He wanted to see those pretty lips part and recite his name like a prayer, instead he heard her mumble out a little fun fact about the movie he was currently ignoring. He wanted to see those lips move again, closer this time. Danny grabbed at her wrists and pulled her down to be inches away from the mask that hid his cheeky grin. Her forearms were resting on his chest, her hands gripped in fists under his chin. "Tell me again, about your movie."

No, no, no. This is not normal, we are actively walking far, far away from normal. Fuck, he's got my hands restrained. His grip is so strong. The angle he had brought you down to made you arch your hips down. Is that? Oh. You felt him. You wanted to ignore it, to ignore him. The masked killer that was terrorizing your town, a man reacting to you atop him. Your body reacting to being on top of him. What are we doing here? What are you even thinking right now. This is not the time for biological responses, he's a killer! He's not a regular guy.

He pat your thigh at your lack of response. "Hello? Movie? Synths and screams?" You felt his fingers flutter at your hip. You tried to collect yourself.

"Right they- uh the director had them mix in synths kind of like a vocoder to play ben-" a sudden movement jolted you out of your train of thought. He had rolled his hips up as he lifted his legs up. The movement, deliberate and drawn out, elicited a yelp in response from you. With the way it had pressed against your most sensitive spot, the squeak you let out had been dangerously close to a moan. A fact that Danny noted instantly.

"Just trying to get comfortable, sorry go on." he acknowledged as he adjusted his grip on your wrists with his left hand while giving your hip a reassuring pat with the other.

Danny's game with his little pet was having an unexpected effect on him. He had anticipated getting a bit worked up with you. A little edging, if you will. Just playing with his food, nothing serious. But the more Danny played this game, the more he felt he didn't want it to end. Looking at her struggling to form words, he wanted to watch her forget the entire English language underneath him. He let his right hand meander back up to her waist, the glove that remained encompassing the last of his strength of will to not flip her onto her back and fuck her right there. No, no, Danny. Let her talk, or at least try to.

What were you talking about? Right, the fucking movie. "The...movie vi- the cinematographer on this... he only made car commercials before this." You felt him chuckle. A rumble you felt pass through your own chest, down to your belly, down further.

"That's not what we were talking about." You could hear his smile through the mask. You were stumped. You felt trapped in his gaze. Your mind felt like it was turning to mush by the second. "The synths? The vocoder...?"

Right, fuck. What was I thinking? You wanted to disappear. You wanted to this all to be some sort of nightmare. Or wet dream. You felt your legs turn to jelly.

"The vocoder, yeah. It was added in underneath the actor's lines because he wanted to make the dialogue sound like it was coming from hell." Your hips ached to move ever so slightly, to tease him back. Getting comfortable, my ass. Nothing about this felt innocent, of course it wasn't. He broke into your home and made you straddle him. What exactly did you think this was going to be?

Focus on her words, Danny. What's she saying? She could be speaking in tongues by now for all he cared. All that mattered was the way he felt her belly press down on him as she breathed and how her legs had splayed further to accommodate him. Danny didn't exactly have an end goal for this night, but when he felt her hips rock a bit her fate was sealed in stone. This night would end, but their game wouldn't. Besides he still had another hand she needed to paint. He met the movement of her hips by using the hand at his waist to help prop both of them up. The hand that held her wrists now supporting her back. The space between them smaller than ever before. He could almost taste her. He had to. He used the thumb of his gloved hand to hike up his mask up to reveal his jaw. Without a second thought, he held the back of her head and pulled her into an all consuming kiss.

You had thought you made a mistake, trying to match him. You went to far, goaded the bull. Now he was going to kill you. When he hoisted the both of you up you thought he was about to deal his killing blow, maybe slash your throat as you sat upright. The strike never came. Instead, he stopped your heart another way. It had barely registered in your mind that you were actually seeing his lips, seeing a part of his face, before they came crashing down on you. He had taken advantage of the way your mouth gaped open in shock when he had lifted you up to let his tongue explore the inside of your mouth. It was far more pleasant than death. He was kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole but had to restrain himself. It would be easier to just let him, and just sit there numbly in his hands. But the way his tongue darted in your mouth you felt compelled to chase after him. Your tongue met his with an equal measure of primal instinct. You wanted to familiarize yourself with the taste of his mouth.

Damn this girl. Danny wanted her to fight him on this. Not for the sake of having her struggle, though there was a measure of thrill in that. He wanted an excuse to be annoyed with her. To want to be done with her. Instead she paid him back in kind, her hands resting on his chest inching up to his shoulders. This night was supposed to make it easier for him to kill her off later. Get his rocks off a bit without leaving evidence to find later. Instead that raw, needy feeling that built up inside him when he saw her only continued to grow. This hunger would not be sated, could not be. It would only continue to fester the more he was apart from her. The only way to keep it under control would be to keep her within arms reach. No distance to make the heart grow fonder, only tight, close proximity to make the crushing feeling turn suffocating. Then he would be tired of her, then he could be rid of her. But for now he had to get her out of here, back somewhere he could really stretch his legs. It almost pained him to break from a kiss so decadent. She wore a dreamy, almost dumbstruck expression, with a flushed face and plush, swollen pink lips to match. He wanted to drink her up.

"After all that you're gonna think I'm a real dick for this, but you'll learn to forgive me." Her drowsy expression gave way to a look of confusion. A silent question answered by an equally wordless blow to the side of her head. Light's out. "Sorry, doll. Gotta move the sleepover to my place."

[unikornavenger]

Pairing: Platonic Moxiety

Warnings: General anxiety, cursing, homophobia, family issues, money issues

Word Count: 2,738 words

A/N: Ah, so it’s been a while. Haha like one and a half years. Uh oopsie. I hope someone reads this lol. I finished this sometime in 2018 and then forgot about it, so I’m uploading it now. Also, I kinda don’t like this, and I’m finishing a new fic very sooon. and sorry for this horrid formatting. (i can’t add a read more on mobile sorryyy)

Summary: Virgil can’t get a job and he accidentally takes his anger out on poor Patton.

Alright, onward with the story!

Virgil stares at the paper in his hands as his breath speeds up without his awareness. The edges begin to crinkle in his fists. It’s shaking.

He doesn’t deserve this letter. He refuses to accept the words that are screaming back at his face. Not after everything that he’s tried. Not after all of his hard work. He doesn’t deserve to read the words “We regret to inform you” again.

After so many pieces of paper with the same phrase ended up shredded in the trash, it feels so easy to just stop trying. Because he’s trying so hard to get a job. It’s so unreasonably difficult.

He’s applied for jobs he’s overqualified for, underqualified for, and ones that he was certain that he would get hired for. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much. Because he knows that he should have gotten a way to earn income on his own by now.

The desire to just be able to stand on his own two feet is overwhelming. He’s tired of staring into the black hole that is his wallet and deciding that he hasn’t done enough to pay for a cup of coffee. Friends keep paying for simple things that he insists he doesn’t want or need.

It’s the building guilt that’s getting to him. That’s it. He doesn’t want them to pay for the things that he should be able to pay for himself.

And another rejection? Virgil’s sure that he has applied for all the operating stores in a five-mile radius. There have to be more desperate places where he could apply. He just has to look harder and dig deeper.

But if he receives another “we regret to inform you” letter, he’s going to lose his mind.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, Kiddo? You okay?”

Virgil takes a deep breath, “Yeah, it’s just another rejection.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” Patton leans his head on Virgil’s. It’s supposed to be comforting, but it feels like the action is full of pity. Patton must be tired of Virgil using him as a crutch. He probably thinks he’s manipulative and only has him as a friend because he wants money.

“Thanks,” Virgil manages, hoping that Patton can’t hear the weird raspiness in his throat. “It’s just exhausting trying and trying and then to keep… you know?”

“I know,” Patton rubs Virgil’s arm. He finally gently shakes himself out of Patton’s hold to place the letter on the counter.

“I don’t know how I can support myself anymore.”

Patton slowly nods his head, “Are you sure you can’t ask your parents for help?”

As close as Patton and Virgil are, Virgil’s never told him about his situation with his family. It’s embarrassing and dirty and awkward. But he’s thankful for it because he was able to meet Patton. His parents essentially kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen because they couldn’t handle a gay son in their house. He would be a bad influence on his younger siblings. His behavior was “unacceptable”.

He isn’t really mad at his parents for thinking like that though. He knows that they grew up in a generation where “gay” was a slur and there was so much negativity in the media about the queer community. He couldn’t really change their mind.

He just wishes he could for his siblings’ sake.

That being said, Virgil can’t ask for his parents’ help. He told them he could manage on his own. He told them that he could support himself better than they could support him.

And here he is. Drowning in his empty pockets, leaning on his friends for everything. Once again his parents prove him wrong even though they are thousands of miles away.

He promised himself that he would be independent and he’s become more able to do things on his own. He thought he could handle it, but evidently not.

“Yeah, I don’t think they would be able to help me.”

A strange expression washes over Patton’s face. Virgil can’t read it. “Are you sure?”

Virgil rolls his eyes. Maybe he’ll take the hint and bite his tongue. “Yes, Pat. I have to do this myself. On my own.”

Patton crosses his arms, “Okay, then, I just don’t understand why you refuse to ask your parents for help. They’re your parents. They have to understand your situation.”

He resists the urge to laugh. He would rather not think about them being his parents because they never really seemed like his parents. “I don’t understand why you think that I can ask for their help.”

“Well, when I’m struggling, I just give my mom a call and have a chat with her and I always feel better. I think you should explain your situation to them, and they can help you out while you find a new job.”

“Okay, well, some of us don’t have the luxury of calling our parents. Some of us don’t have everything served to us on a silver platter. Some of us have to actually work in order to float. Some of us actually have to try.”

Virgil could tell by the amount, condition, and brand of Patton’s clothes that he grew up in a wealthy family. Or at least one that never needed assistance from the government. Maybe that’s why Patton’s always happy. Because he already has everything he could ever need in life.

Patton shakes his head as he takes a step back, “That’s not fair-”

Virgil laughs dryly. How thick can he be? “You’re right. It’s not fair that I’ve had to work so hard in order to be able to survive up to this moment in time and you have been able to feed off of your parents to this day.”

He snatches the letter from off the counter before storming off to his room, shaking his head.

He latches the door behind him slowly, preventing himself from slamming it because he told himself he would never ever slam a door.

Sure, maybe, his actions are a bit immature. But, as he stares at a crumpled piece of paper in his hands, his actions seem justified.

He leans his head against the door and closes his eyes. Patton didn’t understand. He can’t just bring up Virgil’s family and expect the conversation to go over well. After everything Virgil’s done to prevent phrases that his par- phrases that they’ve said from resurfacing. Patton can’t just make them bubble up to the forefront of his mind.

He’s made progress that he’s proud of. It’s wrong to remind him of the past without warning. Patton has no idea how difficult it has been to not think about the people that raised him. They were his foundation that he relied on until he couldn’t anymore.

Patton has no idea.

Wait, Patton has no idea.

Sugar honey iced tea.

He turns around and grasps the door handle. He pauses. If he goes out there, Patton could be upset that Virgil just lashed out at him for no reason.

His hand falls.

He doesn’t want to be reprimanded by Pat. But, if he stays in his room, he’s afraid he might explode. Of guilt or anxiety? He’s not really sure.

He looks around him until he notices the window that leads to a fire escape. Perfect.

It takes a few moments to carefully traverse the rickety metal steps. And once he reaches the ground, he feels an actual weight being lifted from his chest.

Freedom. The air in his apartment is far too heavy with the guilt of hurting Patton and the combined failures crumpled up in messy spheres in his garbage.

He needs to talk to someone else.

His legs guide him to the library where Logan works. The walk is peaceful, side for the hum of cars whizzing past him. Memories of his youth flood his mind. When he was younger, he would walk hand in hand with his mother and the cars driving past would cause him alarm. They were so close to him and they could so easily jump the pavement and hit him.

But, everything was alright because Mom said so. She told him that the drivers knew what they were doing. And since she was there, she would always protect him. The cars would have to get past her first.

She always placed herself between the street and her son.

The rush of air from the entrance of the library brings him back to the present. Taking out his earbuds, he approaches the front desk to see Logan rapidly shoving items into his messenger bag as some random librarian assists the person checking out a stack of books. His phone is sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear.

He said he never does that because it is dangerous, and one could easily drop their phone. Yet, here Logan is, disregarding his own advice.

“I’m on my way. Try to calm down. Take a few deep breaths,” Logan hangs up the phone before throwing it into his bag.

Scrunching his eyebrows together, Virgil asks, “Logan?”

Logan whips around, interrupting his frenzy to face Virgil. “Virgil? Why are you here? Are you okay?” His voice is low in volume but still incredibly urgent.

Virgil takes a step back so his brain can comprehend the words that are quickly exiting Logan’s mouth at Mach 2 speed. “Uh, I’m fine.”

“Then why the hell-” He cuts himself off as he looks around him. Virgil is suddenly aware of him wringing his hands together. He watches as Logan takes a deep breath before informing the librarian that he has to step out for a second. The librarian nods once sharply in conformation.

Logan silently slips out from behind the counter and leads Virgil to the front of the library. He tucks them into a side street branching from the library.

Virgil feels his throat go dry. He’s pretty sure that Logan didn’t bring him here so he could beat him up, but he can’t stop the thought from crossing his mind.

“Would you like to explain to me why Patton just called me panicking because he thought that you ran away and would quote-unquote ‘do something bad?’” Logan urges as he crosses his arms across his chest.

Virgil takes the tiniest step back at Logan’s tone. It’s like his words are made out of steel. “I might have upset him.” It sounds more like a question than a statement.

“That might have been the largest understatement that has ever exited your mouth.” He sighs loudly, “Excuse me, I have to tell Patton you are alright before he keels over.”

His stomach flips as Logan turns around, pulling out his cellphone from his pants pocket. Hurting Patton is the absolute worst thing Virgil has ever done.

That might have been an exaggeration, but in this moment it feels like it. Patton didn’t deserve Virgil’s stupid outburst. He didn’t deserve any of the shit Virgil puts him through. And yet, he continues to tolerate Virgil’s presence.

Logan’s voice cuts through the stale air, “Hi, Patton. I’ve run into Virgil, and he is fine.” Virgil shuffles his feet and sniffs, “Yes, I’ll tell him… Okay… Okay… 10 minutes… Goodbye.”

Logan turns back around as he pockets his phone once again, “Patton is awaiting your arrival back at the apartment. I told him that it would take you approximately 10 minutes for you to return home. Please hurry back and fix this mess because he is very worried.”

Virgil feels like he just murdered someone. That’s how much intense guilt is crushing what is left of his soul. He doesn’t deserve friends like this.

“Thanks, Logan.”

“Anytime,” he leads Virgil to the end of the side street before pausing and turning Virgil to face himself. “Just please try to not do this again.”

Virgil swallows, “Duly noted.”

Logan makes off toward the library as Virgil is left wallowing in his own mind as his feet trudge back to his apartment.

As soon as Logan leaves, Virgil feels light, whispiness in the air leave with him. He doesn’t want to face Patton yet, but he’s already done enough damage. He’s taken Patton’s money, lied to him, and screamed at him. Why does he still care?

Why does Patton have the capacity to care about him?

It doesn’t seem fair. Virgil has absolutely nothing to offer Patton. His implanted negative attitude always brings everyone down with him. He’s not smart like Logan and can’t solve any of his own goddamn issues. He’s not funny like Roman and can’t make anyone laugh to brighten their day. He’s not empathetic like Patton and can’t help anybody. He’s just a goddamn nuisance.

He’s exactly what his parents told him he would become.

A monster.

A monster who craves power and feeds off of exuberant people.

A monster who is the villain that rampages other people’s wallets and destroys their happiness.

A monster with absolutely no purpose.

Virgil looks up to see his apartment complex. His fingers wrap around the keys in his pocket. They feel heavier than usual.

He drags his feet as he maneuvers through the small crowd of people gathering in the lobby.

Virgil decides against using the stairs as he’s afraid his legs just might collapse underneath him.

Entering the elevator, he feels like he’s breathing through cheesecloth. The keys jingle in his left hand as he uses his right to push the button for the fourth floor. Luckily, the elevator doors slide closed before anybody else could enter the small box.

He glues his eyes to the ascending floor numbers that seem to be changing far too quickly.

This problem must be solved for Patton’s sake. The monstrous puddle of guilt gushing into his stomach agrees with him.

The elevator dings as it comes to a stop on the fourth floor. Virgil exits and soon enough he is staring at his apartment number.

He should just run back down. Forget about this whole ordeal and deal with it tomorrow. He can’t open this stupid door. His hands refuse to fish for the keys in his pocket.

No.

He has to do this. If not for himself, then for Patton.

Deal with the consequences.

He wills his hands to take out his keys and insert them into the keyhole.

Here goes nothing.

The door creaks open and Patton is standing in the living room. His back is to the door. His hands are tangled in his hair and he holds his glasses in his left hand.

He turns around quickly, “Virge?” Patton makes a mad dash for the door.

Virgil’s legs suddenly don’t work, so he allows Patton to wrap his arms around him. Virgil slowly pats his back before using his foot to close the door behind them.

Patton sniffs before he lets go, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you to talk about your parents. And I’m so sorry I made you feel like you had to leave. But I wasn’t thinking and-”

“Woah, Pat,” Virgil interrupts, “It’s- It’s,” he laughs humorously. “It’s not your fault. It never was.”

“Of course it was!” He exclaims, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “I should have never made you- I should have just been there for you, no questions asked.”

“Patton,” Virgil chuckles quietly, “That’s insane! We’re best friends. I should have never expected you to blindly catch my fall. That’s asking way too much of you.”

“Wait,” Patton pauses, “You still think we’re best friends?”

Virgil takes Patton’s hand, “Of course I do. One disagreement doesn’t equal the end of the world.”

Patton looks at the ground, “Oh.”

“Patton, none of this is your fault. I was just scared because I didn’t think you would understand the, um, situation with me and my parents.”

“I can assure you that I will do my best to be here for you.”

“It’s just,” Virgil pauses. The words won’t exit his tongue. His mouth is filled with cotton. He didn’t realize how difficult this would be until he was actually in the moment.

“You don’t have to tell me tonight, Virge. I trust you to tell me when you’re ready. And if that day never comes, I will respect your decision.”

“Thanks.”

“Well!” Patton shouts, “I think this calls for a tea and Netflix night. What do you think?”

Virgil smiles as Patton grins widely, “With that smile, how could I disagree?”

[toplesstopics]

Oopsie, I spoke too soon! Didn't wake up to a banned Twitter account, but @Youtube did decide to remove a #prochoice #freethenipple vlog that's been up for over two years, thanks to angry forced-birthers false flagging it as "profane sexual content!" Yay misogyny!

I submitted an appeal even though the appeals never, EVER work, because I enjoy wasting my time and proving what hypocritical pieces of shit social media moderators are.

Oh sorry, I forgot, “Youtube doesn’t take videos down because I saw one once with a nipple in it.” Right?

BTW, here’s the exact same video uploaded to Vimeo, as the only video sharing website that DOESN’T automatically ban women’s nipples as “profane sexual content,” as long as you keep paying them for a Plus account: https://vimeo.com/149583597

[faeydria]