#this is completely self-indulgent mkay??

[imaginariumwanderer]

Mkay last post before logging off. Featuring silly pixel art I made w/ my mouse.

This chart was actually made out of pure self-indulgent a while back with no intention of being posted, I ended up scribbling(?) all over the thing. Hopefully it's readable when zoomed in.

It's "my ship in 5 minutes" but I can make it 30 if you want. WARNING: Tons of sappy yapping+pixel art download under cut.

About "tropes": The trope is called Angel-Devil shipping, oh but I don't think PV is an angel. He's more like a God for SM (at least that's my preference)… Thinking at all the possible tropes that suits them make me really wonder why some people consider Shadowvanilla a crack/pro ship. Enemies to lovers or villain/hero ships have been pretty archetypal since the day of olds. Compared to all the ships I've encountered in the past… Shadowvanilla is more or less the "slightly out of the norm" on the "problematic ships scale" <- typing this out make me feel like an old fandom veteran haha

About "how it happens": I have no idea where to put PV on that chart. He's the one who approached first, but not out of romantic intents, him falling for SM is as unexpected as can be. SM fell first and slowly, and in 'slow' I meant decades upon decades. It's inevitable, painfully so, spending all those years watching over this cookie who's so perfect in his imperfections, how could one not feel something? Of course it's not so simple, that 'something' is a horrid mixture of disgust, envy, hatred, understanding, both the need to preserve and destroy… And maybeee the tiniest crumb of affection? SM realized something around the first couple hundredth years mark, he then spends the next thousands in denial of it. No matter. Whether it's PV or the Soul jam, his birth-given rights. SM knows what he wants and he WILL get what he wants. (He's wrong on both fronts. And somewhere in the back of his mind, SM knows that. But he'll never admit it. He'll never ever admit anything. Until it's too late. In a way, the same goes for PV)

About a certain someone who's not clingy, but would die for attention: I think PV gets lonely easily. As he's hyper-aware of himself and considerate of others, appearing clingy is the last thing PV wants. So PV would put extra efforts in taking care of those around him, be it cookies, animals or the greenery in his garden. A healer is always busy, always helpful. If he's always needed by others then he would never be afraid of being alone. Ironically enough, this ended up making PV come off as a little overbearing. As of late, the only ones able to see through the facade are Hollyberry cookie and you-know-who.

Other scattered thoughts: These two are completely different yet can't be more similar, on the various sliding scales they're either stuck to one another or are flung to both ends. On another note, honestly I can't see these two doing anything domestic together, the most I can see is cooking, which is basically the same as magic in the cookie world. Anyways, are they in "love"? Are they dating? Not really, no. It's more of a a parasitic-turned-symbiotic-soulbond, a will-they-won't-they-destroy-the-world situationship (iykyk) I do enjoy relationships that's hard to put into words. Their feelings are somehow romantic, somewhat deranged and something much, much deeper.

My desire to ship these two comes from the desire to see them grow beyound their archetypes. Being with PV does give SM the chance to be horrible as can be, yeah, but I'd like to think SM does have a personality outside of being a villainous tormentor. He spends so long observing others, and now for the first time he's being seen. Now SM have met someone who can see right through him, who can glimpse into those dammed vulnerabilities of his. Being with SM does let us see PV in his darkest moments, but it's at the same time the moments where PV can shine the most, to prove SM that his ideals isn't naïveté or simple platitudes. In canon, SM+PV works well as enemies, but it is the many contradictions born when romance is added into the mix that got me shipping. They simultaneously break down and bolster one another's greatest traits. Like binary stars, they orbit around the other, so close yet so far apart, lest they collide. They could've been so perfect for each other. But not in this life, or the next, or the next...

Pixel art time! I have way too much fun w/ Smilk's many faces, his and PV's combined came to around 22 expressions. These are quick to made due to their small size (25x25 px). Zip file includes both the og and 75x75 sizes. I don't mind if any Vanilla milkshakers might use these, just please remember to read the my art terms and conditions first! (which can be found in my About)

Some disclaimer: some images may have different names. This is the first time I'm using Getuploader so sorry if something broke.

Link

[q1ngqve]

🪷🫧💭 — this is completely self indulgent i need to fuck this man so bad it's not even a joke at this point

CW; fem! reader, blow job, slight bondage, you're wearing heels, lipstick, and your nails are long enough to scratch at him (lmao)

a big smile spreads across his face as you pepper kisses all over his collarbones, your hands roaming over his chest, mapping him out with your soft fingers, almost giving away his act of being restraint by you.

you have him tied up in thick red ropes that weave around his upper body, his hands bound at the back. a soft ‘thump’ echoes through the room as your heels land between his legs on the chair. the smile on the general’s face widens at the sight before him, earning himself a peck on his lips from you.

"pray tell, what did I do to receive such an amazing view of my wife today?"

your hands reach up to grab his chin, squeezing his cheeks and tilting his head up. "it's your reward for working hard this week." you smile as a soft "hnng" escapes from the man below you when the bottom of your heels presses against his bulge.

jing yuan reciprocates your smile, his golden eyes hooded as he feigns confusion, playing along with your game. "why am i tied up then? I want to touch my beautiful wife." you both know he can easily escape the restraints, but he enjoys letting you take control once in a while. it's not often he gets to be pampered by you like this.

you lean back, both feet planted firmly on the ground. "just sit back and enjoy, mkay?" the general's eyes never leave you, even when you get on your knees, your hands sliding teasingly up along his inner thighs.

he laughs to himself at how absolutely smitten he is with you, observing every inch of your face as you release him from his pants and wrap your hand around his base. your lips part slightly as your breathing quickens, tongue darting out to lick at your lips at the sight of him, hard and leaking pre-cum.

you plant kisses on his tip, smearing his pre-cum all over your lips, making them shine like gloss. jing yuan curses under his breath as he watches you play with him, and the sound of him cursing has you clenching your thighs together.

"my love— stop teasing."

you pull away slightly and look up at him through your lashes. "but where's the fun in that? I'm supposed to make you feel as good as possible." he chuckles at the pout on your face; if his hands were free, he'd be patting and caressing your head affectionately right now.

despite your protest, you take him deep in your mouth, quickly retracting once he hits the back of your throat, repeating the process a few times until he's bucking his hips to meet your lips, desperate to stay in your warm cavern.

unable to take all of him, your hands play with the base of his cock, squeezing and softly scraping your nails against it, knowing it gets his nerves tingling and head dizzy.

your head snaps up sharply, releasing him with a 'pop', your lips still parted and your tongue slightly lolling out. he's managed to free himself from the restraints while you were busy teasing him, determined to drive him over the edge.

jing yuan practically whimpers at the sight of the hints of red lipstick on his dick left behind by your swollen lips. "I don't mean to ruin your fun, my love, but you're driving me insane." your yelp is stifled as he presses your head, stuffing you full of him once more.

your whines reverberate around him as he fucks your throat, your eyes widening when you feel him grow impossibly big inside you. "fuck— just like that, baby. you're doing so good f'me." a swell of pride fills your chest, knowing you've managed to make the mighty general feel so good he's slurring his speech.

with one hand at the back of your head, his free hand cups your cheek, his thumb swiping away your tears. beautiful groans emerge from deep within his chest as his fucks you faster, his hand tugging at your roots as your throat constricts around his tip deliciously.

you whimper when hot spurts of cum fill your mouth, your eyelashes fluttering as you watch him roll his head back, a loud moan of your name echoing throughout the room. you continue sucking until he's come down from his high, gently tugging you away softly with a tender smile on his face.

jing yuan releases your hair and grabs your chin, tilting your head up. your mouth opens and your tongue slips out slightly, showing him that you've swallowed every drop. he laughs at your reaction, your eyes big and teary, waiting for his praise eagerly.

"thank you for the reward, my love." he pulls you up, making you straddle his lap as he plants kisses on your neck, making you giggle. "now, I do believe it's my turn to reward you for doing such a good job, don't you think?"

[husbandohunter]

YOOO hello!! first of all, I hope you are doing well Nya ^^ remember to take care of yourself, stay healthy, and drink lots of water, mkay? good good :) (ur writing is astounding btw i love it sm)

second, may i request a childe angsty (not much tho, just missing him- does that count as angst lmao) + fluffy scenario (or the uh dot hcs thing?? with lil scenario after it?? idk how to call it 💀 but yeah you can choose :D) with a timid, reserved s/o? like... you're feeling a bit down and miss him, waiting for him to return- and when he does, you just- dash into his arms, while he sits there paralyzed, since you don't generally initiate the affection. too shy to do so- however when u do he softens at ur cuteness,, (regretting your decision afterwards cause he makes you blush while praising you- way too easily- and he admires you more while u bashfully avoid his gaze-)

and while cuddling he asks as to why you did that, if something occurred... noticing you were sniffling instead of talking, he halted to take a look at your face, freezing once he saw your profile, crystal clear tears painting it. wiping them away, he cupped your cheeks with his greater hands and before he could utter another word, you answered him, his worried expression transforming into a surprised one unimaginably fast.

"I just... love you so much Ajax. I love you..."

repeating that over and over while delicately holding his hands close to you, a soft smile decorating your lips as you leaned into his palms. and he just. smiles too completely melting-

aand that's all i can think of-- i hope that gave you enough fuel to think of the scene hh- obv take your time with it pls don't feel rushed okay? ik you're busy and have many requests already hh ^^ take a break if you must! farewell!!

Sweetness [Childe x Reader]

Synopsis: Childe can expect all kinds of ambushes but not the one that attacks him in the heart!

Genre: gender neutral reader, mild angst to fluffy fluff

(A/n): First off you’re so sweet anon. I don’t mean to take this long but I do think about the blog and you guys every once in a while. I hope this was to your liking, though got self-indulgent with the last part xD Childe is either badass or an absolute clown🤡 there’s no in between

============================

• Childe had been sent away on a mission in Snezhnaya two months ago. He wrote letters to you in his absence. Until the weekly letters became nonexistent. It was due to the fact been busy over the course.

• But you didn't know that. Demands of being the 11th Harbinger had made things difficult for him to even sit down and relax.

• And when he finally got the chance to pick up his inkset, the man falters yet again over another crumpled sheet tossed into the waste basket.

• How on Teyvat should he begin after weeks going cold? Since when was the last time the two of you properly talked? Were you so furious that you didn't write back?

He felt as if he was being physically beaten by these incessant questions, plagued by scenarios that don't exist.

Childe blankly stares at the ceiling of his hotel suite. It was deathly quiet. The candle burns alight, confined in the glassjar designed by Snezhnayan antiques, and he swore he could even hear wax dripping down the sides.

The Harbinger slaps a hand over his face and groans, "Haaaa, I can't believe I'm actually losing my mind over this."

Hopefully no one sees him in his current state. Their Fatui leader fussing with love letters akin to a teenage boy's first crush. Earlier the evening Childe announced to his assistant that no one shall disturb him while he is issuing an important message to overseas, otherwise they meet a harsh punishment under his command. That was an excuse. A very silly excuse. There was no diplomacy to be made overseas, just one man missing his lover.

The picture of your most recent expression shows up and Childe meticulously carves it out of his imagination. While you were not the type to be vocal about your affections, reserved and somewhat aloof, somehow that itself was a charm of yours. Perhaps he likes a good challenge, perhaps the spark between you two ignited when he kissed you on a fluke. And when you couldn't form the words to your clouded thoughts, actions alone were more than enough for the man to be satisfied.

"Let's see where this goes, yeah?"

Then one meeting turns to another, three dates turn to four, and before he knew it, Childe has been looking forward to spending time with you ever since. A part of him waiting for answers yet to be said. Do you like him the way he likes you? Even though everything he does appears to be whimsical and reckless? This long distance makes him think they were almost not real drives him mad.

What if you were seeing someone else?

A pause, the information too great for him to process. Childe spasms in his seat and slaps both palms flat on the surface table, sounds resonating through the room, enough for his assistant outside to hear.

Nah, who am I kidding? The man waves off the idea like an impractical joke. There's just no way. Sure you were attractive and alluring with mystique, Childe is certain that he had no competition. After all he was a Fatui Harbinger for Archon's sake. Crafty, handsome, strong with a good sense of humor, he's your ideal man. No one's got a shot at this other than him.

Except all those statements existed only in his head.

How the hell should he know what you're thinking about?! The man rests his face on a propped up palm, tapping the desk with the other as he thought deeply. No, a love letter won't work anymore. He needs a new way, preferably something enough to encapsulate his charms as he sweeps you off your feet and makes your heart race at the idea of him. He needs a strategy.

Should I invite them for a fancy dinner?

Childe has already done that a few times, something fresh would be more preferable. Oh, he could pull off the classy tactic of buying a bouquet of flowers and surprising you with it. But that's so cliche. Ugh, he cringes, what if you think he's lame?!

The assistant guarding outside knocks on the door, "Sir, is everything alright?"

"Yes," Childe replies back, rather annoyed, "I thought I told you not to bother me."

"M-My apologies," he hears the assistant scurry away in quick steps.

Finally, some peace. The Harbinger checks the time. It was half past sunset. All the soldiers should be assigned to their pre-booked rooms since was going to be their last departure.

"Fuck...." Childe breathly mutters. This is taking longer than it should. He already had you guessing over his actions, for a month in fact. At this rate, he'd have to show up without a pre-warning explanation of why he wasn't answering your calls.

The snowstorm outside ceases to relent like a reflection of his own. What he feels right now, what he's doing, the Harbinger knows well enough this wasn't some fluke. Childe sinks into his arms and looks at the flickering candle, focusing on it's small flame, wondering, if you're thinking of him the same way.

• Sitting by the windowsill, watching the view that leads to your front yard, visualizing a cheerful man with ginger hair and waving from the trees.

• Ajax. You missed him but wasn't sure how to say it. Papers and envelopes were tucked away in a corner where you could easily reach, savored and impatient for his return.

• They were mostly filled with stories about his homeland, places that he wanted to take you, and sometimes mentioning how his work got the better of him. You figured his silence must be the fact he was busy. At least, that's what you convinced yourself to believe.

• What could he be doing right now?

Ajax's name hasn't appeared in your mailbox for quite a while.

The splash of water runs when you release the tap, absentmindedly scrubbing away remains of leftovers and takeout from last night's dish. Two months ago he appeared at your doorstep in his usual brazen entrance. And it was the same day he had to announce his departure.

"Borsche," you said with a smile. Ajax mentioned how he'd personally bring ingredients from Snezhnaya, bringing as in sneaking, so you could be his first ever foreign taste tester. Of course you'd like anything he'd cook regardless, but he was joyful talking about his family from home that you wanted to explore a little more of this new side of his.

You thought you wouldn't mind the long distance communication, however, it seems you've severely overestimated yourself. After the final meal at your house, Ajax walks towards the exit, the both of you knowing how agonizingly slow it was. You recall looking at him in that deep ocean gaze, trying to say what wanted to be said. Him waiting with anticipation.

"Good luck with your mission!"

• What a mistake, that was the perfect chance and you just couldn't muster up the courage to tell him. You know he was expecting something, you know he's been patient with you, and you're tired of guessing.

• There were days where a part of you doubts if he still feels the same. Days when you felt that all of this might be one sided and you were just another fling in his eyes. Days when you think he actually wouldn't return.

• Eventually, you couldn't help but truly believe he left you for someone else, finally fed up with you beating around the bush.

Despite all the obvious signs from Ajax's lack of communication, you wanted to try one last time.

Yesterday was the day he said he would be coming back to Liyue. The sky looked as if it were about to rain any moment. People crowded under the nearest roof they could find. Their bustling noise drowned out to mere background noise as you stayed, keeping an eye out for that cheerful man of yours all the way till the last ship parked beside the Harbor. 

It was empty. By the time the other families went home with their loved ones, you stood there alone, holding a single umbrella.

"Excuse me!"

No news or a forewarning. You had no idea what must have happened. Regardless, you wanted to try again.

Running across the pavement, you tried to catch up with the sailor keeping watch of the seas, "I want to ask if you've seen a tall man with orange hair leave just now?"

He takes out the cigarette chewed between his teeth and takes his time to answer, "Ah you're the person from yesterday," the sailor comments, "Sorry kiddo, but the merchant shipments will be the only ones dropping by this hour."

Your stomach makes an uncomfortable churn as your heart denies what must be accepted, "Ah, I guess that makes sense."

There was no point in being optimistic about it anymore. The seldom appearance of letters, the disappointment evident on his face when you didn't tell him what he wanted to hear, the chilliness of the rain when it hits your skin, hand trembling by the obvious cold. Everything was so much clearer.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you quickly added while wiping your eyes, unable to contain your sadness, "I'm just missing someone. That's all."

The sailor spares you a look of pity, assuming what story it went on with the clues you gave him. He mutters words of consolation but it felt deaf to your ears.

Why couldn't you just say it? Why did you have to be such a coward in the end when all he was trying to do was making this relationship work? Biting your lip, you kept your eyes casted down to not be blinded by the sun, otherwise you might actually cry. You should've known better to not hold back. And now, he's gone forever.

"Hey."

• Childe watches you turn over your shoulder, hesitant as ever and time seems to have halted in the small pocket of this instance.

• Damn.

• You were as beautiful as the day he last saw you. Though of course nothing about your appearance changed at all. Only his feelings, they grew and more apparent during the days he wasn't by your side.

• Yeah, I'm way over the crush phase, aren't I? He could only imagine what kind of expression he was making.

Tension fills the gap between the two of you as neither made an initiative to close it. Childe examines you, unreadable and without his default grin. Your eyes blown wide under the deep furrow of your eyebrows, mouth turned downward.

Welp he deserved the silent treatment. What nerve does the guy have when he shows up to his lover empty handed and a day behind his promised schedule? Minus all the Fatui fiasco he had to deal back in Snezhnaya and no explanation whatsoever.

"So uuuhhh," Childe glances at you tentatively. Ah shit they're mad probably. He was unsure how te begin. It was almost as if you were strangers and that pained him a little, "So how have you been?"

Slap. He mentally facepalms. That was so stupid.

Well fix it you idiot! A million suggestions run simultaneously that reduces his brain into a pile of mush. He had it all planned out earlier, the flowers, the dinner, the play to sweap you off your feet and make you fall for him again. Seems that his reliable swagger had betrayed him entirely. No fancy entrance. No funny remarks to distract the awkwardness. Right now he was just Childe the lovesick man.

"Look, I know I haven't replied to you," Childe rubs the back of his neck and avoids eye contact, "And I understand if you're pissed about it. We went through a lot back in Snezhnaya which is why don't have any ingredients I promised," he pinches the bridge of his nose, "Ah, I guess I should probably apologize for that too."

This isn't going well. He knew he was trying way too hard to play it cool and most likely makes him look as if here were creating excuses. Screw it, just go straight for the heart, "What I'm trying to say is-"

You threw yourself around him in an instant and buried your face in his chest. Childe nearly stumbles backward, completely off guard for once. He can instinctively expect and attack but not this kind of attack.

Almost gave him a heart attack.

"[Name]...?" He finally whispers out, his sleeve covered arms crawling to return your embrace. The man was trying to feel, to make sure if this was real. Did you just...hug him?

"Ajax."

Then it occured to him that your voice was breaking. The tightening of your hold and the point of your nose against him, he could sense the faint quivering of your shoulders. Childe surrenders all intentions to fulfill his previous agenda as the matters in front of him were much more important.

"Hey, what's on your mind?" he gently hushes, cradling your head with one hand and the other on your back, "I'm listening."

Yes, that's what you needed right now and he'll gladly give it to you, as much as you want. If you allow him that is. Childe knows he can be a bit selfish sometimes and maybe he's jumping to conclusions, but holding you like this is a moment he wants to indulge in. Just cherishing you like he should have.

"I just..." you began, breathly, "love you so much, Ajax. I love you..."

Damn.

Childe is sure he just felt what it's like to float on cloud nine. As cheesy as it sounded. He's somewhat glad your face is buried in his coat right now so you wouldn't be able to witness the goofy smile he's shamelessly wearing. Looks like he had nothing to worry about. Man, did it feel good to know you felt the same way all this time.

He releases you, though not enough to be fully apart because why would he? Your nose was tinged with red and eyes watery, the man swore his heart must have been hit with a pyro reaction. What a cutie pie.

"I've got you, don't worry," he reassures while cupping your face. He leans down to peck the corner of your lips before properly placing a chaste one. The action was so sudden that you weren't mentally prepared for it. He laughs, the same boyish charming manner, "Sorry, couldn't help it. You're too irresistable."

"Y-You're," shades of crimson layers across your cheeks that he's glad he has the privilege for a closeup, "Irresistable..."

Hooooooolddd up.

Childe pulls to a mental stop for a double take. Was that a compliment just now? No, it was a confession. He wasn't used to being praised like this. You may not be the type to vocally speak your true feelings but you were also the type to wear them on your sleeves. A smug smile makes it's way to his face and he tilts his body ever so slightly so you were dipped backwards in a mid-tango pose.

Childe's mouth was mere inches away from yours as he drinks up the image of your vulnerable look, underneath him and no one else to intrude.

"Ajax?!" You stuttered.

"I don't think I heard you clearly. Mind saying that again?" Yes he was being indulgent right now but the opportunity was hard to come by. Also those two months made it so agonizing to bear he needs a remedy to soothe all that drama.

You're pouting now and Childe tips down to kiss you on the cheek, "Don't tease me. Not here in public," you whisper-yelled well trying to push him away similar to a smothering puppy.

"Oh? Now you're going to reject me? I thought you said I was irresistable?" Childe's words muffles against your skin and the vibration spreads across like wildfire.

"Ajax!"

"Fine, fine," he chuckles heartedly, not letting you go. Instead, he repositions his arm until it was swung around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side, "By the way I wanted to say that I shouldn't have left you hanging. The mission got real messy last minute and I didn't wanna half-ass a letter to you."

You shook your head, "It's not your fault. I know you were busy. Just that..." you breathed out, somewhat relieved and anxious at the same time, "I thought you were angry that I wasn't being honest with you. I was afraid for some reason. But now, it's a lot easier than I thought."

"Huh? What do you mean?" He asks.

"I thought you left me for someone else."

A moment where his brain short circuits and Childe lets out a howling laugh. You looked at him with awe. What was so funny all of a sudden?

"Gotta say that I'm being tossed left and right with these surprises," he mused, "Guess that even if we're apart, we're still that close, eh?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, "What do you mean?"

Childe slides his hand up your shoulder bone to pinch your cheek, "Nothing, sweetness."

• You chased after him demanding for answers but Childe doesn't budge. The only thing you could tell that he was in an extremely good mood after that.

• Oh well, all is well, ends well does it?

"Since I don't have anything to cook the Borsche I mentioned to you before, we'll have to settle for something else I'm afraid," Childe shrugs, "Anything in mind you wanna do?"

You sighed, fondly at least, "I already said I don't mind as long as you're cooking."

"S'that so? Well then," Childe moves renewed with energy, extending his hold in a beckoning manner and you laughed at his antics, "Shall we go, my snowflake?"

You take it and squeezed it, "I'd love to."

[kimoralov3]

dating chad meeks martin

a/n: this is completely self indulgent. i have literally been driving myself crazy the past 10 days thinking about this man. so if you don't agree with some of this, that's cool. but keep it to yourself mkay 😁

warnings: cursing, the slightest of scream vi spoilers, there are no pronouns used for reader

this man right here

you would think that he would be just your stereotypical jock when it comes to courting right???

well as proven in scream vi, you'd be fucking wrong

this man is literally so sweet it makes your teeth rot

for example

not long after the two of you met (y'all have english together or some shit) he knew he had a crush on you

so obviously he's gonna come up with an excuse to hang out with you because the two of you have barely even had a real conversation

and luckily for him, y'all's teacher assigned some partnered project

and before anyone could even ATTEMPT to ask you to be their partner chad was right beside you

and that's how it all began

even after the two of you were done with the project (you got an a), chad was still finding excuses to hang out with you

he noticed that you missed out on a class for some reason?? he took publication-worthy notes so he could stop by your dorm and give them to you

and then would proceed to stay over so he could go into further detail about the things you might still be confused on

there's a really big test coming up?? he'll meet you every day leading up to the test at 3:30 to help you study

doesn't even matter if he has the class or not, he just enjoys being around you

mindy definitely bullies him about taking too long to make an actual move

and as much as he would hate to admit it, she has a point

so one day after school, he stops by your favorite cafe and gets you your favorite drink and pastry because if he chickens out, at least he has an excuse as to why he was there

you were in your usual spot at the library, reading up on some material from the beginning of the semester

chad sits across from you and the two of you just kinda chill for like 30 minutes

chad takes that time to really plan out what he was going to say, cuz he'd be damned if he fucked up his shot

he goes on this like ramble about how he was interested in you from the moment he laid eyes on you, and how he'd make up stupid excuses to come see you

y'know cute shit like that

he'd end his little speech by flat-out saying the words i like you, but he'd also say that he understands if you need some time to think about his words

turns out that he didn't have to worry about that tho because you literally jumped across the table and kissed him

best way to say yes ever

anyways y'all were officially together after that and he could not be happier

some people might think that he'd stop all the sweet shit he was doing before, but no

in fact he does it even more now, saying that he wanted to cause you happiness as much as possible

you'd spend a lot of time in his dorm, cuddled up and watching movies and things

he'd also insist that you'd wear his hoodies and his letterman jacket, because "you just look so cute in them"

he'd make a point of the two of you going out on a date at least twice a month because again, he loves spoiling you

also he is definitely the protective boyfriend type

but not in like an icky toxic way

he'd step in at a party if he noticed that someone was making you uncomfortable

and it'd only get physical if the person refused to back off

like when he was about to fight that guy that was tryna sleep with tara? yeah he'd 100% do that for you without a moment's hesitation

one of his favorite things to say is that he's lucky to of found you

all in all he's literally the best fucking boyfriend ever and the two of you will never let each other go

[nyx22-blogs]

Imagine Watching a Horror Movie With Riley Poole

A/N: This is purely self-indulgent 😂

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Riley! Please, c'mon it's not that bad." You whined while sitting on the couch.

You were trying to convince your boyfriend to watch a horror movie with you, specifically 'The Conjuring'.

"Y/n, baby no. The last time you went out with Abigail to watch a horror movie you couldn't sleep properly for a week. Also horror movies are stupid and I don't wanna watch it."

You knew that Riley actually didn't find horror movies stupid, he was just as scared of them as you were- well no he could handle them a bit better then you. Which was really saying something considering his whole encounter with the skeleton.

You were the one to get nightmares after watching the movie, he was more of the get scared while watching it and then forget about it afterwards kind of guy.

"This one isn't stupid at all I promise, it's literally considered one of the BEST horror movies ever!"

"Nope, there's nothing you can do to convince me to watch it." He said as he walked over to where you were and sat on the couch.

"Nothing at all?" You said with a smirk on your face.

"Nope, nothing at a- what w-what are you doing?" He said, very flustered.

"Nothing at all." You said as you climbed on top of him and straddled his lap.

"Y/n- c'mon you're not actually gonna do it."

"Won't I?" You said grinning like the Cheshire Cat. You furthered your actions and gently pushed him down so he was laying on the couch. You dipped down and started to kiss down his neck, pulling away everytime he tried to initiate something.

"Y/n...please c'mon.." He said, desperate for you to do something.

"Uh uh, watch the movie with me and maybe we'll see where this goes. Mkay?" You said giving him a nice kiss on the lips and pulling him up with you.

"Fine, you're evil y'know that?" He said loudly as he walked to the kitchen to get some snacks for you guys.

"Yup! I know!" You said going to your bedroom to get a blanket for you two.

10 minutes later

"Oh my god!" You yelled and hid into your boyfriend's chest.

"I- y/n? It's not that bad c'mon. It's not even that- OH GOD!" He yelled and looked away for a second.

"SEE! Her face is so CREEPY!"

He snorted at your comment.

"Really? She kind of reminds me of you. Y'know temper and all." He said and laughed when you hit him on the chest.

"Shut up! Jerk.."

You looked back up and endured the rest of the movie. It was a great movie, you were sure you had a heart attack at least once but it was still worth it.

Riley got scared of the movie a couple of other times but after it was done he was completely fine.

Oh and by the way, you didn't sleep properly for two weeks.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Bonus:

"Riley?" You whispered in your bed.

"Hmm?" He groaned sleepily.

"I heard something." You said, scared.

He rolled over and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible. He pulled the blanket over the both of you until it covered your shoulders.

"It's ok y/n, nothing's there. And if something is there they'll have to grab me first, mkay?"

"Ok.. I love you baby."

"Hmm, love you too sweetheart. Sleep." He kissed your neck a couple of times and you both fell asleep.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Bonus again!

Warning: cute fluffy images are below!

IM SORRY I HAD TO DO IT, LMK IF U GOT SCARED LOL-

@sierraaf11

@captainannamerica

@where-dreamers-go

@ashlaieblobfish

@executethyself35

@aceaoki1316

@why-must-i-be-like-this

@beetears

@donut-rambles

@naturalswifty89

@riley-poole27

@ash-theart-witch

[slash-em-up]

I Was (Not) Born To Be A Cowboy Pt. 2

Last Time:

‘Thank FUCK you’re both here! These ranch-hand bastards are trying to kill me!’

Asa sighed deeply.

“Hello Jesse...”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

You chortled at Jesse’s miserable look. You couldn’t help it.

“Weeelll howdy, partner! Golly, if you ain’t the cutest rootin’est tootin’est lil cow-poke I ever did see!”

Jesse glared at you then looked pleadingly at Asa.

‘Make them stop.’

Asa huffed and moved past you into the bunk house.

“...Oh, to have that power...”

You moved to follow, and judging by the look Jesse was throwing you, if there was a snowbank nearby you’d be tossed in head-first with no hope of rescue.

Thank heaven for little miracles.

Entering the cabin, you couldn’t help the small whimper that left your lips at the shabby conditions. 

You’d stayed in a very similar place during camp one awful summer; but that had been summer. This was a frigid Montana winter, and from the looks of it the only source of heat was a wood-burning fireplace which was giving off the world's most pitiful excuse for a glow.

“Really, Jesse?”  

You moved quickly to save the fire, re-arranging the logs so they didn’t smother the flame, and adding a few pieces of kindling.

Immediately the cabin brightened, and you smiled.

The aggressive unzipping of a duffle-bag brought your attention back to your partners. One of whom was trying his hardest to loom over poor Brody as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Uh... Hey there Mr. Jesse...”

A stony glare answered him.

“You - uh – you look like you’re all recovered from your tumble this mornin’...”

Now he had Asa and your attention.

“No need to worry... everyone falls off their horse at least once... or four times...”

You were pretty sure you heard Asa mumble an annoyed “Jesus Christ, Jesse...” under his breath before carefully refolding his sweaters and placing them in the bedside cubby.

Under Jesse’s baleful gaze, Brody seemed to determine that it was time to beat a hasty retreat.

“Well, I’ll let you folks get settled!” he gave you a friendly nod and Asa an intimidated “Sir..” before turning to leave the bunkhouse.

“Breakfast’s at four!”

Jesse rubbed at his eye in a beleagured motion as you jumped up from your seat.

“Four?! WAIT... Brody, FOUR AM?!?”

But Brody was gone.

A large arm curled around your shoulders and Jesse gave you a sympathetic squeeze.

‘Welcome to Hell.’

*************************************

These bunks were not made to hold more that one person at a time.

You determined that Mr. Ephriam had to be homophobic. You could almost read the sign ‘No Brokeback Mountain-ing On My Good Cattle Ranch’ and it was about to make you cry.  

You were so cold.

And Asa had the audacity to be sleeping like a baby, that bastard.

Jesse looked like he was wearing at least five pairs of socks, because beyond not being anywhere big enough to fit more than one person, the bunks were also clearly not built to hold anyone taller than 6’.

Even Asa was a little smooshed; but somehow he was making due.  

Jesse, on the other hand, could almost plant his feet on the floor if he laid flat and he looked miserable.

“Jesse...” you hissed.

The veritable mountain of blankets covering the bunk to your right shifted, allowing a blurry brown eye to peer out questioningly at you.

“Bring your blankets over by the fireplace, I have an idea.”

Jesse seemed to intuit what you were thinking because he speedily shuffled himself and his pile of coverings in front of the fire, laying several down as a barrier between your bodies and the cold wood floor.

You did a shimmy of happiness as you laid down next to Jesse’s reclining body, already feeling the heat from the fire and the large form of your partner saturate your chilled skin.

Sighing in joy, you let Jesse pull you in tightly so he was spooning you, nearly covering you with his own body in his quest for heat.

His chest rose and fell with a deep exhalation as you both settled into a comfortable position for the first time that night.  

You were so cozy that the pair of you only barely shifted when, a few minutes later, you heard soft grumbles and movement from the other bunk as Asa rolled to his feet and walked over to join you.

The heat of the two large men caging you in had you nearly purring in delight, and the atmosphere had lightened considerably – enough that moments later Asa jolted up and punched Jesse roughly in the shoulder.

“Hands off my ass.”

Jesse’s chest shook with laughter, and you couldn’t contain your tired giggles if you tried.

A hand rose from it’s resting place on your waist to make a dismissive gesture at Asa before spelling out ‘Thanks you two.’

You turned slightly to press a kiss to Jesse’s scarred chin.

“Anytime.”

Asa grunted in acknowledegement before telling you both in no uncertain terms that you had less than three hours before breakfast and he wanted to sleep – so quiet down.

********************

The loud clanging of a bell woke you from what had turned into a rather pleasant slumber.

“Nooooooo...” you groaned, burying your face into Jesse’s chest.

Asa was already up and sorting through his luggage, looking for his glasses as you and Jesse slowly untangled yourselves from your blanket nest and stumbled over to your own bunks.

“What does one wear to a proper chuck wagon breakfast?” you asked jokingly.

Asa smirked but Jesse was less than amused.

‘I think a gunny sack and fur cap would make you fit in perfectly.’

Apparently, Jesse was not at all impressed with the ranch’s dress code.

You played along.

“Aww and here I left my coonskin cap at home...”

The door to the bunk clattered, allowing Spann to enter.

“I have an extra if you want to make an impression...”

“Hey Spann. Love the flannel.”

It seems that Brody handn’t been exagerrating when he said Spann was settling in to the routine of the ranch. You couldn’t recall ever seeing her dressed so casually; and had NEVER seen her without a full face of makeup and jewelry.

Clearly, she was nothing if not adaptable.

“I see you’re making the best of ranch life.”

She gave you a small grin.

“My mom’s family owned a dairy farm. I was pretty handy with a pitchfork before I moved to Florida.”

“Haha, and I guess it’s just like riding a bike?”

“Something like that.”

Jesse interrupted your joking around with a curt ‘cute’ before huffing past the two of you out onto the porch.

You raised an eyebrow at Spann before following her out the door.

Oh, well that explained why Jesse was in such a mood already...

Two horses waited by a hitching post for their riders to join them.

It was pretty easy to tell who’s was who’s. 

Spann’s horse was a beautiful little red thoroughbred – already saddled and waiting for the petite woman to mount and take off towards the mess hall.

Jesse’s was... sized appropriately... you guessed.  

The huge draft horse stood untacked, and you could swear it was glaring as Jesse approached it slowly.

Asa joined Spann and you in leaning against the railing, watching the battle about to commence.

“Her name is Sugar...” Spann muttered to the two of you.

“Mr. Cromean’s has fallen off at least twice every day we’ve been here, and he still can’t get his saddle on tight enough...”

You could hear Jesse making clucking noises with his tongue at the huge animal – but you were sure he was simply cussing Sugar out internally.

He’d pulled a large Western-style saddle off the porch railing before approaching the horse, and you watched with amused disbelief as your boyfriend proceeded to charge at Sugar – saddle up – who quickly danced out of reach.  

This chase continued for several minuted before Asa shifted away with a snort of disgust, pushing his glasses up his nose before stepping to intercept Jesse as he tore after the prancing horse once more.

“Give that to me, idiot. We’ll be here all day if we wait for you.”

You had to admit, you were a little turned on watching as Asa swiftly took the saddle out of Jesse’s limp grasp before confidently walking over to settle the blanket and leather tack comfortably on Sugar’s back; pressing his thumb lightly into the horse’s flank as he tightened the girth with swift and sure movements.

One final check, and he’d gripped the reigns and mounted.

Jesse’s back was to you; but you could just imagine the mixture of awe and embarrassed anger that was probably plain as day on the tall man’s face.

Asa rolled his eyes, giving a click of his heels into Sugars sides and trotting over to where you stood.

“Ready to go?”

You couldn’t hold back your stupid grin as you nodded quickly, grasping Asa’s offered arm and holding tightly as he swung you from the porch to sit in front of him on the saddle.

“Hold the pommel and grip with your thighs...” he murmurred into your ear.

“Well you know I’m good at that.” you teased.

“Cheeky...”  

Asa’s eyes sparkled with a hidden grin as he moved the large horse towards the mess.

“Coming, Spann?”

You nearly let out a hoot of laughter at the sound of boots rushing over to catch the two of you.

Jesse skidded in the muddy ground and jerked back as Sugar moved her head to nip at him.

‘Hey, you stole my horse!’

Asa snorted.

“It didn’t look like you were using it.”

‘It’s a quarter mile to the mess hall do you expect me to walk?!’

“I suppose you could round up a posse and arrest me for horse-thieving; but I think breakfast will be over by then...”

Jesse looked like he was about to start stomping his feet in anger.

‘I hate how much you’re enjoying this.’

You giggled as one of Asa’s arms wrapped itself around your waist and he motioned Sugar into a quick canter, Spann and her red mare following close behind.

“Better run, Jesse!”

[celosiaa]

mkay so i’ve been sitting on this one for a while and I’ve decided that i’ll never finish it completely so here’s a REALLY messy and self-indulgent sketch from my fic ill for the holidays

sometimes you have to make the art you want to see in the world lmao

[yeenybeanies]

A Little Tipsy

i was semi-productive, so i’m rewarding myself with self-indulgent nonsense. shoutout to the anons that suggested drunk!devin. not a whole lot of shenanigans, but it's still nice :>

arthur morgan & devin clarke ( oc )

1436 words

language & alcohol warnings

reblogs > likes!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! 

Borrowing is tough. Being a borrower and having to borrow is tough. Borrowers, of course, know this, and anyone lucky enough to know a borrower knows this. Being only a few inches tall comes with a countless many risks. Danger is everywhere; nearly everything is a threat.

Naturally, bearing all of that in mind, it would be completely asinine for a borrower to partake in certain human pleasures, such as gin or whiskey or ( the debatable pleasure ) moonshine. With intoxication comes lowered alertness and reaction time and coordination––all of which can be fatal to a wandering borrower. While it’s not typically a spoken rule that borrowers shouldn’t get drunk, that they should avoid the liquors and beers and wines humans so enjoy, it’s common sense.

And it is common sense. Devin has that common sense. They understand the logic. They really do.

But goddamn, everyone has moments of weakness. Even the most sensible of borrowers break sometimes. Well––Devin wouldn’t say they’ve broken; they’d say they’ve just . . . cracked a little. Temporarily. They’d say they deserve this little pleasure, even if it tastes awful. What’s a couple of drops from a toppled bottle of moonshine going to do? Who’s going to miss it?

Hindsight is sure to have a few words with Devin later, but, right now, they can’t stop giggling. It’s loud, too––loud enough for Arthur to hear them from under the wagon next to his bed. The gunslinger sits up, brows furrowed, and peeks through the wheel spokes. He knows the voice, of course, but he’s never heard them so . . . bubbly.

“ Devin . . .? ”  Worry pricks his mind as he scans for the borrower. This is highly unusual behavior; Devin is not the kind to be noisy––especially not in the camp!  “ Devin, what’re you doin’? Where’re you at? ” 

“ ‘m over here, ”  comes the tiny voice. Devin steps out from behind a crate, wobbly, still giggling. They grin up at him, and Arthur’s finds himself a little taken aback. He’s seen this plenty of times before in many a man and woman, in himself, but never in Devin.

The borrower’s drunk. They’re either drunk, or under some other form of intoxication. Arthur closes his journal with his pencil holding place for the drawing he’d been working on, and leans over, arm and hand through the spokes toward his friend. They lift one tiny boot, looking almost like they intend to step towards him, but their balance isn’t what it normally is, and they fall backwards, just out of Arthur’s reach. He curses a little under his breath and tries to push his shoulder more through the gap.

“ C’mon now, Devin. Work with me here. ”  He tightens his jaw, face pressed against the wheel, but he can only manage to graze one of Devin’s boots with his middle finger. A few seconds more of scrabbling, and Arthur’s ready to try this from a different angle when he feels a pair of tiny hands hook onto the tip of his finger. That finger quickly flexes, pulling Devin up and close enough for his hand to gently wrap around them. Ever careful, Arthur lifts them from the ground and brings them to eye level. They’re still giggling. His heart aches with how sweet a sound it is.

“ Now just what did you get into? ”  Fingers loosen a little with the borrower’s squirming, just enough for them to get their arms free, but not enough for them to wriggle out of his hold.

“ Arthur! ”  They yell, and Arthur flinches, eyes wide. Devin stretches their arms out towards his face, their hands beckoning him.  “ Come here. ”

“ I’m right here, Miss Dev––– ”

“ Closer, damn you! ”  They beckon again, and Arthur is at a loss. He hesitates for a moment, then slowly brings the little being nearer to his face––close enough for him to catch a whiff of the alcohol on them.

“ Christ, Miss Devin, what’d you get into? Is that whiskey? ”  Nose tipped up just a little, Arthur gives the borrower a sniff. They take an opportunity in the same moment, though, to freeze him right in his tracks. First they rest a hand on his lower lip, feeling across the ridged, sensitive skin; then they press their own lips to his upper lip. Arthur’s breath catches. He dares not move.

It’s got to be moonshine.

“ Mkay. ”  They pat his chin after a few seconds, and he pulls them away from his face, looking more surprised and bewildered than ever. Oh, and he’s blushing. Of course, Devin is a little flushed in the face themself. They can’t suppress their giggles.  “ Sorry, I––I dunno. First time I’ve, um, done anything like that. First time I’ve had moonshine too. ”

There it is. Moonshine.

Arthur’s fingers uncurl, and he brings his other hand up to cup securely under Devin. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards, despite his lingering fluster. He can’t smile, though! It quickly comes back to him that Devin is drunk.  “ Miss Devin, I seem to recall you explicitly sayin’ that it’d be detrimental to your well-bein’ if you were to lose yourself like this. ”  It’s not as harsh a scolding as perhaps he ought to give; it’s awfully hard to reprimand them when they’re so damn . . . cute. ( And they’re always cute, damn them. )

“ Don’t be mean to me, Arthur! ”  God! Bless their heart. Arthur tightens his lips and sighs through his nose.  “ I’ve . . . had a rough week. And I didn’t know it’d hit so fast. ”  The giggles die down with Devin looking away, now quite somber in expression. So quick is the change that it almost gives Arthur whiplash.

“ Hey now . . .. Stuff’s bound to hit fast when ya weigh about as much as a ball a’ cotton. ”  The gunslinger shifts his position, back now leaning against the wagon while he rests his hands on his stomach.  “ Wanna tell me what’s got you so worked up to drinkin’? ” 

“ Not really. I’m just . . .. ”  They trail off and wipe their eyes. For a moment, Arthur thinks he can see a minuscule tear being brushed away, but he can’t be sure. There’s nothing of the sort when Devin looks back up at him, giving him a reassuring smile.  “ I’ll be okay. Always am. Just had to . . . loosen up a bit. ” 

Mission accomplished.

A thumb lightly brushes the borrower’s shoulder. They respond in kind with their hand to the pad, fingers rubbing over the rough whorls. Arthur doesn’t care much for the answer he got, but he isn’t going to push. If Devin wants to tell him, they will when they’re ready. In the meantime, since they’re with him now, they can safely enjoy their buzz.

“ Were you drawing? ”

“ Hm? ”  Arthur glances down at the set-aside journal, page still kept with his pencil.  “ Yeah. Writin’ down some thoughts, sketchin’ some things . . .. ”  And again his cheeks warm.

“ Can I see? ” 

Warmer still. Arthur clears his throat. With the hand not supporting Devin, he takes the journal and flips it open to the saved page, holding it to where they can see. It’s a little embarrassing to him. Their silence isn’t helping much either. There are a few scribbles across the span, among them a detailed sketch of Devin themself. Arthur’s drawn them smiling, relaxed and sitting on the edge of something with one leg hanging down. It’s really a nice drawing.

“ That’s . . . me? ”  They blink, turning back around to look up at Arthur.

“ Yep . . . yeah. ”  He can’t bring himself to meet their eyes. It’s not uncommon for Arthur to draw people in camp, or people he meets, but Devin isn’t some normal person. The time they spend together feels special, intimate. Arthur hadn’t ever asked if it would be okay for him to draw them. Someone else might see his journal and see those drawings ( not that he couldn’t just say he had a bit of imaginative inspiration ). He’s about to backpedal, maybe offer to tear out any drawings of them, but they interrupt him before he can speak again.

“ Do you have any more? ”  Ah, they’re . . . blushing again. It seems they both have an uncanny ability to make each other red in the face. Arthur can’t help but smile as his fingers curl around them just a little bit more. They might be drunk, and that might be unwise, unsafe; it might warrant a scolding later on, once they’ve sobered up ( if the subsequent hangover isn’t going to be punishment enough ), but at least they’re here with him, where he can protect and watch over them. Damn. They sure wormed their way right into Arthur’s heart, softening the stone-cold gunslinger right up.

“ Sure I do. Here, I’ll let’cha see. ”

[liberty-barnes]

Writing Update

mkay so i know i haven't been writing much lately

mainly cuz i'm on vacation woohoo

and also cuz i can't write

(also pardon any typos or anything in this, i'm sick and i can't see well)

so anyway

i got a bunch of ideas and concepts and stuff, just need to like, figure out a way to turn them into actual stuff

but just so you know here's what we're working with as of now

a 1D fic that i started yesterday (platonic) angst

a completely self indulgent TJS blurb fluff

a harrison x reader fic that will be angsty but i still haven't decided on the ending

fluffy boyfriend!liam payne fic

angsty angel!reader x peter fic (also haven't decided on the ending)

soulmate mob!tom x reader au (that will either be angst+fluff or fluff/will make you laugh like hell)

actress!reader x tom (fluff and laughing a lot)

and if i ever figure out what exactly to do with it, a harry styles x reader fic (it's got flowers and bandana harry and also the shirts that are half undone and just..........uuuggggh oh and haz speaking french)

so yeah that's that

as soon as i'm no longer sick, emotional, and whiny i will get to it...hopefully

but anyway, love you all, thank you for your patience, byeeee🤍🤍

[salamoonder]

Dark Side |  [ch. 1]

Patton is hunger.

He’s self aware; he knows what he looks like from the outside. Knows that everyone thinks of him as the sweet one, the innocent dreamer. No one can see how empty he feels inside, how he’d do anything to get rid of the nagging, clawing feeling that he isn’t and never will be enough.

Logan is helpless.

What’s the point of having an above genius level IQ and a scholarship that’ll more than take care of him for the next four years if he can’t protect his family? Time has always been comforting to him, assuring him that ever second will be the same exact length, dividing the universe into neat, even fragments. Now it’s turned against him and he can’t do a thing to stop it from running out.

Roman isn’t real.

Yes, he’s consistently cast in every lead role he applies himself to, yes, they all say he’s brilliant and daring and larger than life. But does any of it mean anything? Does anybody actually care about the person behind the persona? Is there even a person left?

And Virgil? Well, Virgil’s a complete mess.

Plagued with anxiety and panic attacks since before he can remember, the very last thing he wants to do is leave his boring but safe hometown to go to university. But he’s been following Patton around all his life and he’s not about to stop now.

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Panic attack, nausea

A/N: Welcome to my Sanders sides College AU!!This fic gets pretty dark so I would advise you to proceed with caution and always check the warnings. In other news AHHHH I’M 50K INTO THIS AND IT IS OFFICIALLY THE LONGEST PIECE OF WRITING THAT I HAVE EVER POSTED PUBLICLY even if the other 47k isn’t available yet (rip). I’ll release the playlist as soon as I’m done with it.

|| Read it on AO3 ||

“Virgil, breathe.”

“Can’t,” Virgil pants, and grips the edge of the counter till his knuckles go white. The sky is so bright it’s hurting his eyes, so he closes his eyes and shrinks further into the snack booth.

He’s vaguely aware of Patton coming around and unlocking the door. He wants to tell him to get back on the stand and keep lifeguarding, because he’s not worth this, not worth Patton getting written up, but he knows Patton won’t listen. Even if it means risking his job.

A second later Patton lays a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away. “Don’t touch me. I just. Just need.”

He takes his hands off the counter and curls them into fists.

“I’m sorry, Virge. Please breathe?”

“It’s not-” Virgil makes a huge effort to take a breath, in through his mouth, and suddenly he’s hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey, easy. Look at me.”

Virgil shakes his head to clear it, tries to focus on Patton.

“Breathe in-Virgil, just try-”

“Trying.”

Virgil sits down heavily on the concrete floor in the corner of the snack booth, fixes his eyes on the ceiling, and breathes in. His throat stutters over the air and he resists the urge to just continue hyperventilating. Patton’s sitting down too, ignoring the stool in front of the counter in favor of sitting on the damp concrete with Virgil.

It takes him a couple of minutes, but he’s able to breathe without getting dizzy again. As soon as he’s able to speak, he says, “Patton, you’re gonna get fired.”

Patton shrugs. “No one’s come in in the past half hour. It’s not like Sam cares. And Felicity’s out there keeping an eye on things.”

“Or sleeping,” Virgil mumbles.

Patton swats his arm gently. “Hush, you. She’s covering for me, isn’t she?”

Virgil shrugs. He’s always gotten the feeling that Felicity doesn’t like him very much. Then again he’s never gotten the feeling that anybody particularly liked him, so Felicity’s pretty much the norm.

Patton stands and offers him a hand up, but Virgil’s still feeling a bit weird about touch and so he gets up himself, glancing guiltily at Patton’s hand. But Patton drops the hand, looking thoroughly unbothered. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“But we’ve still got-”

“Half an hour. Last day, Virge, Felicity doesn’t care.”

“You already asked her?”

“No, but I covered for her last week, she owes me.”

“You think she can run things by herself?”

“Do I think she can watch an empty pool for half an hour? Absolutely.”

Virgil lets out a half laugh and Patton’s face splits into a grin. “There we go. Feeling better kiddo?”

“I’m...three months older than you.”

“Even so.”

“Ugh.”

“Well, are you?”

“A little,” Virgil admits as he follows Patton outside. His hands have stopped shaking, anyway. But it’s been getting worse lately, and he’s worried he’s just going to keep going downhill.

“You wanna talk about what set it off?”

Virgil scrubs a hand over his face, and instead of answering fishes the keys out of his pocket and yells across the pool. “Hey, Felicity!”

Her head jerks up and she catches the keys after he flings them across the deep end. “Virgil!” she complains. “I could’ve dropped those in the water!”

“Do you think you could keep an eye on things for us?” Patton asks, tone coaxing and sweet.

Felicity’s arms uncross from her chest and her demeanor immediately brightens. Everyone likes Patton. “Sure, is something wrong? Do you need help?”

“Nothing really,” Patton tells her. “It’d just be a really nice favor to me. Thanks, Felicity.”

“Of course.” She tucks the keys into her pocket and goes back to staring listlessly at her reflection.

Patton nudges into Virgil’s shoulder as he’s sliding into his flip flops at the gate, nearly causing him to overbalance and fall. “You don’t have to tell me, but I think it might help.”

“Uh. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Virgil hunches his shoulders. “Can I drive?”

“If you’re asking because it’ll give you something constructive to focus on and take your mind off stuff, then yes. If it’s because you’re feeling reckless, then absolutely not.” Patton puts one hand on his hip and Virgil has the sudden urge to laugh at his sternness even though there’s not really anything funny about the situation.

“I’m fine, Dad, it’ll help me calm down.”

Patton chews his lip. “Alright, but we’re pulling over if it gets to be too much.”

“Patton, my house is literally like two minutes away. We could’ve walked.”

“Still.”

“You sound like me,” says Virgil, half smirking as he climbs into the driver’s side seat. “Stop worrying.”

Patton walks around, straps himself in, taps Virgil’s seatbelt. “And you sound like you’re trying to deflect.”

Virgil says nothing as they pull out, nothing as he turns onto the smooth main road of his neighborhood. They’re almost to his house before Patton says, “If you really don’t want to talk about it I’ll shut up.”

“No, it’s…” Virgil grips the wheel a little harder than necessary as they approach his house, anxiety spiking through him again. “Patton, um...I haven’t started packing yet.”

“What?” Patton screeches, and Virgil winces. They’re in his driveway now, but neither of them makes a move to get out of the car. “Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly. “But Virgil...what the heck? Are you okay?”

Virgil shrugs and buries his face in his hands. Both of his arms itch to do something, but the thought of everything he has to do before tomorrow morning at five am makes him want to lie down and never move again.

“Virge?” Patton’s unstrapped and is leaning over him, concerned. “Let’s get you inside, mkay? When was the last time you ate?’

“Not sure,” Virgil mumbles. He can feel himself falling back into panic and shoves his door open, gets out and begins to pace to stave it off.

“C’mon, Virge, stop that. It’s okay.” Patton takes his hand and leads him inside and Virgil’s skin itches again but he doesn’t want to let go of Patton, even if it’s uncomfortable.

Patton taps in the house code and they both slip off their flip flops at the door and walk inside. It’s almost too cold in the house; Virgil gasps as his feet hit the gleamingly white tile. The air conditioner’s made it like ice.

Virgil’s always been a little embarrassed of his house. The ceilings are indulgently high and the whole first floor is impeccable tile and ikea furniture. The kitchen is far too large for a family of three, especially one that usually doesn’t eat together and is more likely to order takeout than not. The staircase looks like an art installation, and his mother keeps the place clean enough that it doesn’t even look lived in.

Truthfully, it’s barely lived in. Virgil’s the only one in the house all the time, and he’s not sure he could call what he does living. The first time Patton slept over he couldn’t stop staring, reverently wandering the house and gazing at the abstract art that Virgil’s mother filled the house with, taking care not to touch anything, even at the age of twelve. Sometimes it felt like staying in a museum, Virgil the only living display. The rare Depresso anxietus.

“Virgil?” Patton squeezes his hand, trying to shake him out of his reverie. “Is there food in the house?”

“Uhh…” Virgil opens the fridge, eyes flickering over the overstocked shelves. “Yeah...yeah, there's food in the house.” He steps aside so Patton can see. “What should we make?”

“Sandwiches,” says Patton, already pulling out the bread. Virgil hops onto the counter to watch. He doesn't feel like making decisions, however small, so he's grateful to Patton for not making him think much. One question at a time. “Do you want pickles?” “Swiss or cheddar?” This or that, yes or no, low energy things. It would probably seem silly to somebody else but right now Virgil is sure that sandwich ingredients, handled indelicately, could probably send him into a spiral of panic.

They eat at the breakfast bar almost in deathly silence. Virgil can see Patton sneaking concerned looks at him but he doesn't volunteer up any information. He feels too guilty.

Tomorrow morning he and Patton are going to pack Virgil's car and make the three hour drive up to Riverpoint University. It should be exciting. What kid wasn't excited the day before move in? Virgil wants to kick himself. Patton is clearly looking forward to it. Riverpoint is Patton's entire dream. He’s going to go off and win a Nobel peace prize for environmental conservation and stage large scale protests and plant new rainforests in South America and photograph penguins in Antarctica. He'll be a reporter for National Geographic or a famous blogger or something, no matter how unlikely it looked. Patton is charismatic and determined and he’ll undoubtedly rise beyond any expectations set for him, Virgil has no doubt of that.

On the other hand, all Virgil wants to do with his future is not have one. He wants to curl up in the back of his closet and be left alone. All his interests are nowhere near as passionate or as deep as Patton's. You can't make a career out of folding sad poetry into paper cranes. Well, maybe Patton could figure out a way to make that work. Patton could save the entire world if he wanted to, Virgil is sure of it.

He’s half smiling into his sandwich now. Maybe all he wants to do with his future is live vicariously through Patton.

That’s kind of the reason why he’s going to RU. He can’t fathom being apart from Patton for even a day. They’d grown up together, elementary through high school, and when they’d gotten older they’d started hanging out on the weekends, every weekend, and some days Patton felt like the only piece of life Virgil was holding onto. So naturally at the midpoint of junior year when nearly every class was interrupted by an office assistant sending someone or other to the counselor’s office to “discuss future careers and higher education”, Virgil panicked. It’s what he did best. What he still does best. Because of course while all Virgil wants is to have the world stand still around him, to sit up in his room and read and pretend that everything outside doesn’t exist, Patton has kept going. Kept moving. Patton wants to do something with his life.

When Patton applied for colleges, Virgil applied for colleges. He wrote cheery, over enthused entrance essays (he always was good at fiction), compared tuition costs (not that it mattered), scoured school websites for information. Patton’s top choice was Virgil’s top choice. Patton’s safety schools were Virgil’s safety schools. When Patton got his acceptance letter to Riverpoint, Virgil had pretended his hadn’t come yet, waited two days, and then pretended to be surprised when his showed up in the mailbox again, taped shut.

He doesn’t want Patton to know that the only reason he’s going to college is because he can’t stand the thought of being without Patton. It’s the most pathetic thing he’s ever done, and he’s starting to regret it.

Before it wasn’t fully real. It was just something he had to do. Get into the same college as Patton, stay with Patton. Right now the full implications of “college” are starting to cloud out the reality of “Patton”.

What was he thinking? He can’t do college! Much less college three hours away with parties and shared bathrooms and classes that are not with Patton and eating by himself and-

Patton’s reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Kiddo?” he says gently. “You okay?”

Something must’ve shown on his face.

“M’fine.” says Virgil, and forces himself to take a deep breath. He takes a bite of his sandwich for something to do and chews slowly.

“We should get started soon,” says Patton. “I don’t want you up too late.”

Virgil nods and stuffs the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth. He collects Patton’s plate, which is already empty-when did that happen?- and put both in the sink.

When they get up to Virgil’s room, he’s scared the sandwich might come right back up again. There are boxes and clothes everywhere, but nothing actually in the boxes. None of his books have been taken down from the shelves either. It actually just looks like Virgil’s normal messy room plus boxes, which is pretty much what it is. He’s been locking his room and telling his mom he’s packing while actually playing Fortnite for weeks now.

Patton must sense his panic, because he leads him over to the bed, makes him sit down, and tells him to close his eyes. Virgil does.

“Not looking at it isn’t going to make it go away,” Virgil mumbles. He can hear Patton shuffling around.

“I know,” says Patton. “Just cleaning things up a bit, kiddo. It’ll take no time to pack. You’ll be fine.”

A couple minutes go by, and Virgil says, “Uh,” and then stops. Patton doesn’t press him, and for once Virgil wishes he would give him a gentle push in the right direction.

But Patton doesn’t push. He waits, and he listens, and sometimes he makes Virgil feel like a wild animal in that he handles him very, very carefully- and like he might get bitten. “Patton?” he says carefully, on an exhale. Like the name got lost on his breath, and he’s not quite sure if he wants to say it.

“Mhm?” the response comes from somewhere over by the window, so Virgil turns his head in that direction.

“I’m...scared.”

“Of what?”

Virgil listens to Patton moving, shifting boxes and the soft thump of clothes.

“College,” says Virgil, and immediately feels stupid.

“Okay…?” says Patton, leaving the word open on the end, as though he’s waiting for Virgil to finish whatever he was saying. Virgil doesn’t want to finish whatever he was saying. “Can I open my eyes now?” he asks plaintively.

“In a minute,” says Patton. “Why are you scared of college?”

“I dunno…” says Virgil, trying not to immediately summon all of his fears just by touching the subject in his mind. He’s unsuccessful. “It’s- it’s not home.”

More shuffling. “I never got the impression that you particularly liked it here,” says Patton conversationally.

“No,” Virgil concedes. “But it’s. Home.” he says again, feeling unable to come up with anything more. “It’s...familiar,” he tries, and it fits. “I don’t like unfamiliar,” he says, finally putting his finger on it.

“Open your eyes,” says Patton, and he does. Patton’s sorted his clothes into two piles, apparently clean and dirty, and all the boxes are stacked inside of each other near the closet. His books are on the floor in neat, even towers.

“Oh,” says Virgil, and smiles. It’s symmetrical. Comforting. Patton smiles back at him. “More doable, hm?”

“Yeah,” says Virgil softly. “I still don’t see how we’re going to get all this done by tomorrow morning. And still sleep.”

“Easy, Virgil. One piece at a time.” He walks over to Virgil’s desk, opens his laptop, and pulls up Spotify. “Classical or modern?”

“Mm...modern.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Yours.” Virgil doesn’t feel like making any more choices today. He’s listened to all of Patton’s playlists hundreds of times anyway, and he likes all of them, even if they’re not his. Today’s not a My Chemical Romance kind of day though.

According to Patton, it seems to be an Owl City and Postal Service kind of day. That’s fine. It’s bouncy and light and thoroughly optimistic.

They sort through the clothes systematically; bring or leave for clean, fold, bring or leave for dirty, throw in a load of wash, lie on the bed and do nothing, dryer, fold. The books are harder; Patton’s trying to be gentle but he’s also trying to keep Virgil from bringing his entire library and Virgil would sooner leave one of his own limbs at home than leave a book, if he thinks he might need it.

“Is 1001 mushrooms and fungi really necessary, Virgil? Really? You don’t even go outside.”

“I do, sometimes,” Virgil says, around the dictionary sized book in his arms. He doesn’t. He just likes the idea of knowing what’s poisonous and what’s not. Of knowing what would sustain you if you got lost in the woods for any reason. In the end they leave it, but not without a considerable fight from Virgil.

After that he’s somewhat at a loss. What exactly do you need besides clothes and books? Tons of things, he’s sure, but Patton keeps telling him they’ll pack toiletries in the morning and if he’s really forgotten something crucial they can just buy something new at the campus store.

“Or in town,” he says. “It’s a really nice college town, Virgil, I can’t believe you got out of orientation. I can’t believe you wanted to.”

Virgil shrugs “They wouldn’t have let me stay with you, would they?”

“No, the rooms are randomly assigned. But, Virge, that’s a good thing! You get to meet new people! Get thrown right into the thick of things.”

Virgil shudders. Thick of things sounds like thicket. Maybe he’d prefer that. Being thrown into a jumble of thorns sounds better than meeting new people.

“Patton?”

“Mm?”

“Can you stay over tonight?”

Patton hesitates, and Virgil feels horrible. He has a family to go home to. This is their last night at home, both of them. Virgil’s family (if you could call it that) probably wouldn’t even notice if he was out at a club till four in the morning. They’d probably be relieved, actually, at their son actually being normal. Patton’s little siblings shriek and cling as soon as he’s walked through the door, like over excited dogs. Or like he’s Santa. They shriek and cling at Virgil too, who tries to pry them off as gently as possible while internally freaking out.

But he doesn’t want to be alone in this big house tonight, so big that you couldn’t tell anyone else was in it, even if his parents do come home. Even if they want you to know they’re there.

He’s being incredibly selfish, and he hates it, and he’s halfway to telling Patton to go home when he smiles and says, “Sure, Virge.”

They pull Virgil’s high end sleeping bags out of his closet and pop popcorn and watch Coraline on Virgil’s laptop. The tv downstairs is bigger, but Virgil’s feeling unusually attached to his room tonight. And there’s a higher concentration of Patton per square inch when they’re in a small space.

That sounds stupid, but Patton always uses math to make him feel better. More orderly. Patton can make it sound like all the numbers in the universe are falling together for him.

“What are the odds?” he’d ask. “What are the odds that in all of time and space, between all the planets and space dust and dinosaurs-”

“Space dust,” Virgil had snorted.

“Space dust,” Patton confirmed. “That you and I would be human? That we’d be born on the same planet, in the same country, in the same town, go to the same school? That we’d exist at the same time? What are the incredible odds?”

“What are the odds that you’d like me?” Virgil mumbled, and Patton had cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “How could I not like you, Virge? That’s the only sure statistic.”

Patton’s asleep now. Virgil’s laptop, which is balanced on his stomach, rises and falls every time he breathes. Virgil takes it carefully and pauses the movie, then gets up to turn off the lamp.

When he lies down on the sleeping bag again, Patton rolls over and rests his head against Virgil’s chest.

“Did I wake you up?” Virgil whispers.

“A little bit,” says Patton sleepily. “ ‘M falling back asleep tho. Love you, kiddo.”

Virgil huffs out a tiny sigh so he won’t disturb Patton’s head on his chest. “I love you too.”