#ssshhh this is for a Secret Project =)

[delatoid]

Villager practice

[watcheraurora]

Jimmyyyyyyyyyyyy! All the Jimmy!!!!!

I'm so excited!

Jimmy looks so cute in a vest! With the little freckles! I love him! 😁

And more FinFault yesssssss *rattles bars of my enclosure in excitement*

It’s WIP Wednesday Thursday!

Thank you @silliest-sideblog and @watcheraurora for tagging me!

First up, we’ve got a Jimmy design from a Super Secret Project I Can’t Share Yet:

Why is he in a vest? Are those freckles? Who’s he looking at? All to be answered in due time ;)

I also have a snippet of FinFault Ch12!

Jimmy pov?? At the Garrison??? With new characters for him to interact with???? It’s more likely than you think ;)

(Also this is in the working doc, so sentence subtleties are subject to change in editing.)

No pressure tags: @basil-the-bulbasaur and @eydilily

[ahh-fxck]

#14 & #18

14. A fic you didn’t expect to write

Straight up? I didn’t expect to write any of them, but especially not Warrior’s Blues. @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog triple dog dared me and I went for it. WHAT HAVE I DONE?! Seriously though it’s been one of the best experiences of my life I regret nothing. Writing fic again has been so rewarding.

( @alwaysfoolsparsley hey darling I got your ask almost at the same time as I got this one! I answered here.)

18. current number of WIPs: Only five, thank fuck. Warrior’s Blues, my two Secret Santa projects, an unpublished fic, and A Sparrow Flies. I try to be really strict about my WIP count so that I stay focused, because otherwise Nothing Will Ever Get Done and I Will Be Sad. So far so good, but we’ll see how it goes as I stay in this fandom longer! Note that this only counts WIPS that I have started a file on. I have several more in my head knocking around, but ssshhh...

from this list of asks

[today-only-happens-once]

the only exception

Title: the only exception

Word Count: 4,549

Summary: College!AU, Musician!AU. Patton shows up to a music festival that Virgil—along with his twin brother, Roman—is headlining, hoping to surprise him. Turns out, it’s Virgil that surprises him first. Romantic Moxiety, brief background Logince. Song-fic.

Warnings: lots of fluff and softness and sappiness, mutual pining elements, declarations of love, description of crowds, cursing, discussion of anxiety, mention of anxiety attacks, kissing, Virgil “writes” a song that’s actually written irl by Paramore but ssshhh Paramore doesn’t exist in this AU, please let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: Someone on tumblr once made a textpost that said “The Only Exception” was a Moxiety song, and weeks later I listened to it and realized they were right. And then I had this image in my head that wouldn’t go away for like. Months. And then eventually I decided to write this. It’s basically a song-fic. Crazy self-indulgent, heh. Also, I’ve never written Romantic Moxiety before, nor have I written a Patton-POV focused fic. So writing this was a whole boatload of new. I hope it turned out okay! Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine.

You can listen to the song Virgil sings at the end here! 

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, and also @randomslasher because moxiety! ^u^

…

Present. March. Junior Year.

Patton shoulders his way through the crowd as rock music blares loudly over the speakers. The late March air is cool, and the breeze tugs at the COLLEGE-PALOOZA MUSIC FEST banner hanging from the amphitheater’s stage. A few people he recognizes from his classes wave to him as they nod their head to the music. Patton slows as he finds a small gap in the crowd, not particularly keen on getting into the tightly packed mosh pit that had formed right in front of the stage.

The sun is beginning to set, casting the sky in a light purple hue. Perhaps ironically, it reminds Patton of the guy he’s actually here to see perform. Patton glances at the stage, but there’s no sign of him. He checks his phone for the time. The group was supposed to be on now, but perhaps he’d missed them already.

He looks at the guy beside him—leather jacket and sunglasses, holding a Starbucks cup—and asks over the music, “Which group is this?”

The guy takes a long swallow and then jerks his head towards the stage. “Planets Align. They had trouble getting the sound system working, so they’re running behind.”

Patton nods his understanding, smiles, and thanks him. Planets Align was scheduled to go on right before them, if the pamphlet he’d found on Virgil’s desk was anything to go by. He’d felt terrible at the time when he realized that the band Virgil had formed with his twin brother, Roman, would be headlining a music festival the same day Patton had already promised to help with a group project.

But the other members of his group canceled the meeting earlier today and rescheduled it for next week. So Patton really didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t come support Virgil. And if he maybe didn’t tell Virge in the hopes of being able to surprise him… well.

Besides, he had a feeling Virgil could use a nice surprise. He’d seemed really nervous about the festival when Patton was talking to him about it when he found the pamphlet. Virgil often seemed nervous, but… more nervous than even Virgil’s normal.

Patton smiles a bit to himself when he remembers when they first met.

…

September. Sophomore year.

“For the purposes of this research presentation, I will allow you to choose partners. We will need one group of three, but that certainly seems manageable.”

Patton glances around the stuffy lecture hall. It was only the third time the class had met, so Patton hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to many of his classmates yet. On top of that, it was a pretty big class. Patton had a feeling that he wouldn’t know everybody even by the end of the year. The professor waves her hand to indicate that they should select a partner and begin discussing the project.

Chatter rose up—most people leaning over towards people they were sitting next to, a few calling to friends across the room—and there was shuffling movement and the scraping of chairs as students milled about to find a research partner. Then Patton caught sight of a black and purple hoodie in the back row.

What was his name? Patton couldn’t remember, despite the ice breaker during their first class. He does remember the snort the guy had released when Patton had made a pun about his name when introducing himself. He also remembers the way he’d immediately ducked his head a second later when Patton grinned at him.

Patton gathers his things and squeezes through his classmates. “Hey,” he says. The guy in the hoodie looks up, seeming startled. “Wanna be partners?”

The guy blinks at him, then shifts in his seat and motions to the empty chair on the other side of his desk. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“I’m Patton, by the way.”

“Virgil. What, uh, what are you studying?”

Patton pulls his laptop out of his bag. “Oh! I’m an early education major. What about you?” As he asks, Patton casts a quick glance at the laptop in front of Virgil and notices the stickers on it: SANDERS in messy black scrawl, a thundercloud with a bolt of lightning, a small circle with a paint-smear style gay pride flag, and a few music notes.

“Graphic design with a minor in music,” he replies. Patton notices him glancing at the buttons on Patton’s backpack that he threw in the empty chair beside him—some about cats, some about dogs, a heart with glasses that he thought was cute, and a pride pin from last year’s Pride week.

“That’s pretty cool. You play music?”

Virgil lifts a shoulder. “With my brother, mostly.”

“Wow. That’s… really awesome,” Patton says, sincerely impressed. He’d always loved music, but really only dabbled in the ukulele. He’d always thought musicians were cool: having skills like that took a lot of work, and a lot of dedication. That seemed pretty admirable to Patton.

Virgil smirks. “If you say so.”

“I do. I mean it.” For a fleeting moment, Virgil looks taken aback by the insistence in Patton’s voice. “What do you play?”

…

Present.

“Roman is totally the hot one,” Patton hears a girl behind him say to her friends.

“Elliot thinks he has a crush on Logan Berry, you know.”

“He’s gay?” The girl sounds surprised, but not hostile.

“Ace, I think. Panromantic, if the stickers on his laptop are anything to go by.” Patton recognizes that voice as one of the girls in the LGBTQ+ club that Patton was secretary for.

“You have class with him?”

“We had English 100 together freshman year. Elliot’s in class with him and Logan, though, and says they want to gag literally any time the two so much as talk to each other.”

Patton grins to himself. Subtlety when he had a crush had never really been Roman’s strong suit. That was another place where Virgil was markedly different from his twin brother. Both Roman and Virgil had ways of keeping their distance from others, but where Roman put up a front of fearlessness and confidence and friendliness… Virgil seemed more likely to withdraw into himself.

Patton had learned that, and many other things about Virgil, slowly as meetings for the research project gradually developed into hanging out regularly and casually. Patton picked up on things about Virgil relatively quickly. He gets quiet and irritable when he’s actually anxious about something. He tends to catastrophize, especially when it comes to academics. He hasn’t yet learned how to accept compliments—something Patton didn’t let deter him from giving them. He hopes that the more he’s able to expose Virgil to them, the easier it will eventually get for him to accept them.

Patton learned that Virgil is fiercely protective, too. The fastest way for Virgil to overcome his anxiety about a situation is usually when it’s related to someone he cares about. He still remembers the fire that had alighted in his eyes when someone had started harassing Roman when he, Patton, Roman, and Logan had been heading back from a party on a Friday night a couple of months ago. Logan had been the one to diffuse that particular situation, but Patton hadn’t missed the way Virgil hovered closer to his brother and looked ready to fight when he’d seen the shaken look in Roman’s eyes.

But then there were the softer moments from Virgil, too. The fleeting moments when Patton saw something gentle and relaxed from him that a secret part of Patton liked to believe were just for him. They were a sign of trust from Virgil, and Patton had always cherished that trust precisely because it was so rare.

   …

April. Sophomore year.

“What time is it?” Virgil asks with a yawn. He’s sitting on the floor of his dorm, his guitar in his hands. His back is leaned up against the drawers of his desk. Patton sits on the floor across from him with his back against the cinderblock wall and his legs stretched out in front of him.

Patton digs his phone out of his pocket and checks. “Almost 1 in the morning.”

Virgil nods and strums a few chords softly. “You’re welcome to stick around, Patton, but… y’know. It’s chill if you’d rather go home.”

Patton shakes his head “I like it here,” he says. For reasons he is still figuring out, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Patton watches him; he watches the way Virgil’s bangs fall in a soft sweep across his face, the dark eyeshadow smudged under his eyes, the slight parting of his lips as he mouths unheard lyrics. He always loves watching Virgil play guitar. There’s something about watching him hold the light brown acoustic instrument—like it steadies him, like it’s a shield that protects him—that Patton can’t help but love. Virgil seems to… breathe easier when he has a guitar in his hands.

“Virgil? Can I ask you something?” Patton says suddenly.

Virgil glances quickly at him, then back down at the guitar in his hands. Avoiding his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.” His voice sounds oddly tight to Patton.

“Why do you play music?”

The question seems to catch him off guard. Virgil stops short for a moment, glancing back up at Patton. His hands still against the instrument, his eyes flit away in thought.

Then—to Patton’s surprise—he sets the guitar aside.

“It… gives me a space where I can… connect, I guess?” He rubs the back of his head, glancing at Patton as if unsure whether or not his own words made sense.

“Connect?”

“Well,” Virgil pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on top of them, “Yeah. I’ve never been good at… at the whole…” He waves a hand and sighs. “At the whole ‘words’ thing that’s required for making friends or helping someone or… whatever. I’m always afraid I’m gonna say the wrong thing, or make them feel awkward, or… shit, I don’t know. But music is different. It…” He huffs a frustrated sigh as the words escape him. Then he tosses Patton a wry smile. “See what I mean? Words aren’t really my thing. Music is different, though.”

Patton nods. He glances around at the MCR and Dear Evan Hansen poster on walls of Virgil’s side of the room. “I think I get it. Music lets you speak from where you are emotionally at a given moment, and people can come to you—or your music—to find that connection and community. It… lets you express yourself, and by doing that, lets you connect to other people.”

When Patton looks back at Virgil, he’s looking at him with something like disbelief. But there’s a softness and light in his eyes that makes Patton’s stomach flutter. “Yeah,” Virgil says eventually. “Exactly.” Patton meets his gaze with a small smile, even as he feels suddenly like Virgil can see all the parts of himself that he wants to hide.

The corner of Virgil’s mouth quirks slightly and he digs a small purple leather notepad out of his back pocket. He grabs a pen from the top of his desk and scribbles something down.

“Whatcha writing?” Patton asks curiously.

Virgil folds it and slips it back into his pocket. “Nothing, Pat.” He still has that soft kind of smile and look in his eyes even as he grabs his guitar and pulls it back into his lap.

…

Present.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Planets Align!” The emcee shouts into the mic as he runs on stage and the band waves as they exit to the cheers of the crowd. Patton applauds them and briefly considers moving closer to the stage before deciding against it. He’d never done well with tight crowds.

The sun has dipped below the horizon now, the sky darkening quickly. The lights from the stage bleed out onto the grass clearing, providing some lighting of the crowd itself as well. The air is a bit colder now, but Patton doesn’t mind. Besides, all the people around him moving and dancing have helped keep it from getting too cold anyway.

“Next up, the ones you’ve all been waiting for. Let’s hear it for… SANDERS!”

Patton lets out a cheer as the crowd screams. He sees Virgil’s twin brother—though you’d never know it from how differently they do make up and their hair—run on stage with his arms up to encourage the crowd’s response. The cheers get louder, and Roman grins and strikes a hero pose. He’s energized. Patton smiles at his evident excitement.

Virgil follows behind him, an electric guitar strapped to his back. Even from his distance from the stage, Patton can see him shaking his head at his brother’s antics. He gives a small, appreciative wave to the crowd. His eyes scan it, and a part of Patton can’t help but wonder if he’s looking for him someone.

Reasoning, though, reminds him that Virgil said he always tries to get a feel for the size of a crowd when he goes out on stage at a venue for the first time. It had started as a nervous thing—how many people might see me fail?—but as Virgil’s confidence in performing grew, it had mostly just become a habit.

“What is UP, everybody?” Roman says into the mic. He’s wearing a bright red leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, shiny gold skinny jeans, and red high top converse. “We’re so glad you could come out tonight. How about this awesome weather, yeah?”

More cheers. Patton watches as Virgil pulls the guitar from around his back with a smile. He’s in his familiar hoodie, purple shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, and his black sneakers with purple laces. At first glance, he doesn’t seem too nervous—Patton had long ago gotten in the habit of glancing at him to check if he’s okay when he knows Virgil might be getting anxious—but it’s hard to tell from this distance.

“My brother, Virgil, and I thought we’d kick things off with an original song. How’s that sound, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals?”  There’s louder cheering, and the two of them waste no time starting a song that Patton remembers from previous concerts of theirs he’d attended.

…

November. Junior Year.

Patton’s phone dings while he’s eating lunch in the student union and flipping through an education textbook to study for his quiz tomorrow on Vygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development. Exams are quickly approaching, and Patton had always struggled to remember theorists’ names for some reason.

It’s a text from Roman. Is V with you?

Patton frowns and types back quickly. No. It’s Tuesday. Then he sends a second text. Why?

The student union is bustling with students breezing through to grab lunch before rushing off to the library or their class. Groups are clustered around tables to hash out the details of final projects as their deadlines approach in the next week or two. Exhausted English majors slump over their stale coffee cups and computers as they edit their final paper for the eighth time. Engineering students running on caffeine and spite chug another energy drink before hurrying off to the lab building. A couple others that Patton can see are watching Netflix in a desperate attempt to give themselves a break before plunging back into the grind of end-of-the-semester assignments.

Roman’s reply comes almost immediately. He sent me a single letter text which usually means he’s freaking out but idek where he is

Patton stands up and forgets his half-eaten sandwich, dropping it in the compost bin as he slings his backpack over his shoulder and hurries out of the building. Have you tried calling him?  He texts quickly.

R: Yeah. No response… just lemme know if you see him or if he texts you or something ok

Patton rolls his eyes. As if he’s just going to go about his day and not try to help. Especially if V might be freaking out. We’ll find him, Roman. You check the science center and I’ll check the music floor of Stokes Hall.

R: ok.

R: Thanks

Patton turns his ringer on at full volume and braces against the cold air as he hurries to the building beside the Student Union. The November air is biting. Students bustle with their noses tucked into their scarves and red fingers curled around coffee cups. There was no snow on the ground, but the grass still crunches under Patton’s shoes as he hurries across the quad towards Stokes Hall. His light blue beanie is pulled low over his light brown hair.

He’s wishing he had a scarf to hide his nose in—instead opting to try to tuck it into the sleeves of the sweatshirt tied around his shoulders—when he walks straight into someone.

“Shit! I’m so sorry—”

“Virgil?” Patton asks, immediately recognizing the voice. He looks up, and Virgil seems frozen for a moment. It only takes Patton a second to realize that his eyes are red and sunken slightly. His usual sweep of hair is a disheveled mess under the hood of his sweatshirt that engulfs his frame.

If Patton’s being honest, he looks… rough. Concern twists in Patton’s chest.

“I’m so sorry, Patton. I’m an idiot, I just wasn’t watching where—”

“Hey, it’s all good, Virge,” Patton says, quickly but sincerely. He places his hands on Virgil’s shoulder to anchor him. “Breathe.”

Virgil laughs but it’s humorless and shrugs out from under his grip. Patton frowns. “I’m fine. I know I look like a mess, but really. It’s fine now. I was just. Um. Coming outside for some air.”

Patton considers the deflection and decides to meet Virgil half-way. “I could use some too.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Honest, V. The cold air is kind of nice.” Patton slips his phone out of his pocket and sends a quick text to Roman. Got him. He offers a small, reassuring smile to Virgil.“ You wanna take a seat?”

Virgil meets his gaze, then glances away. He seems to think about it for a moment, then relents with a slight sag to his shoulders. “Sure. Fine.”

Patton wanders over to a bench across the pathway and takes a seat. He looks around as students rush quickly towards their classes, smiling brightly as a service dog trots dutifully beside his owner and pushes the button to open the door as the student hurries inside. He intentionally keeps his gaze from lingering on Virgil, even as he hesitates before sitting beside him.

Virgil waits until most of the students have rushed off before breaking the silence between them. “You aren’t going to ask?”

Patton glances over at him. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and you seemed reluctant to talk about it…. Should I ask?”

“No. Yes?” Virgil groans, zipping up his hoodie against the chilly air. “It wasn’t anything like. That bad. Y’know? I just get… anxiety attacks sometimes, and sometimes they get…” He trails off. Patton senses more than sees the way Virgil glances quickly at him. “Anyway. I’m fine now.”

Patton isn’t sure what to say. He’d known for a long time now that Virgil struggled with anxiety. That Virgil had anxiety attacks doesn’t exactly surprise him, and it definitely isn’t off-putting or anything of the sort. But Patton hates the way Virgil keeps trying to deflect… something. Judgement. Concern. Patton suddenly and fiercely wishes Virgil would just let someone care about him. Let someone love him.

Patton thinks maybe he already does.

“Virgil….” Patton says softly, looking at his hands folded between his knees, “It’s okay. You know that, right? You can talk to me about it. And I’m not gonna judge you or think you’re weird or that there’s anything wrong with you.”

“I… I’m fine.”

Patton lifts a shoulder. “Okay. But… it’s okay if you aren’t, too. And either way… you’re definitely not alone. You know? You know Roman’s there for you, but… but I am too. I care about you.”

In his peripheral, he sees Virgil look at him. “Patton—”

“There you guys are!” Roman exclaims as he jogs up to the two of them. Patton smiles at Virgil—who looks, for all the world, like the ground has shifted underneath him.

Patton wants to ask him why. He never does.

…

Present.

SANDERS has played through five songs, which means they’re nearing the end of their set. Patton is beaming. Virgil and Roman play off each other so well, and their music seems to be a blend of both of them in a way. They balance each other on stage. They’re fun to watch. Patton can’t help but think, though he may be biased, that if they really wanted to… they could make a career out of it.

But then they do something that surprises Patton, and apparently everyone else too from the way the crowd starts to murmur.

Virgil trades out his electric guitar for his light brown acoustic one. Roman grabs a wooden stool from one of the wings and sets it in the middle of the stage. Virgil adjusts the strap of the guitar around his shoulders, nodding his thanks to Roman.

“So I hope you all don’t mind if we close out with something a little different than our usual pace,” Virgil is saying into the wireless mic attached to him. “But I lost a bet against Roman, and that means I gotta do this.”

“If I lost I was gonna have to wear jorts for this concert. You all should be thanking me,” Roman quips back through his own mic. There’s a chuckle from Virgil as well as the crowd.

“Yeah, well. This is a song I wrote over the course of… probably about a year. It’s about someone very… important to me. He couldn’t be here tonight, but… he’s pretty great. Anyway, it’s a little different, so uh.” Even under the stage lights, Patton thinks he can see Virgil flushing slightly. “I hope you all like it.”

Virgil starts strumming and all Patton can do is watch him, transfixed by the sound of an acoustic guitar and the sight of Virgil under a spotlight on stage. It’s a much softer song already than any other song in their entire set. Virgil ducks his head slightly, his black sneaker tapping out the ¾ meter. And then Virgil starts to sing.

“When I was younger I saw my daddy cry, and curse at the wind.

He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore that she would never let herself forget.

And that was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.

But darlin’ you are the only exception. You are the only exception…”

As Virgil sings, Patton can’t help but feel rooted to the spot. Virgil sitting and playing his acoustic guitar reminds Patton suddenly of that moment again back in Virgil’s dorm room. That moment of honesty and openness from him that always felt so rare. Patton feels like he’s experiencing that again, despite the crowd and the spotlights. Because this is not performance-Virgil, this is just…. Virgil. At his most honest. At his mot exposed. And it’s breathtaking.

Patton doesn’t even fully realize that he’s moving closer to the stage until he almost trips over a girl that’s swaying and holding her phone with a flashlight up in the air.

Virgil breaks into the second verse, and Patton feels his stomach fluttering all over again at the sound of his voice.

“Well maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts.

And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face.

And I’ve always lived like this. Keeping a comfortable distance.

And up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness,

‘Cuz none of it was ever worth the risk.

Well you are the only exception. You are the only exception…”

And a part of Patton—a part he’s afraid to admit to—suddenly starts to grow insistent with the realization that he might be really, truly, unequivocally in love with the person singing on the stage in this moment. The one with his bangs falling into eyes that had always looked to Patton to be a little bit afraid and a lot brave.

This song, this moment, is no exception to that. Music, for Virgil, had always started from some place deeply personal. It is what allows him to connect to others, after all. And Patton doesn’t know if the song is about him, but he wants it to be. Because that deeply personal space that Virgil is singing from resonates with Patton in a way that leaves only one thought repeating in his head. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Almost as if he hears the thought itself, Virgil looks up and starts scanning the crowd again as he reaches the bridge.

“I’ve got a tight grip on reality  

But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here.” He’s scanning, scanning, scanning…

“I know you’re leaving in the morning. When you wake up,

Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream. Oh…”

And then his eyes settle squarely on Patton, and Patton swears he hears the very faint catch of Virgil’s breath through the mic.

Patton gives him a small, faint smile. There’s a brief moment where uncertainty flickers through Virgil’s dark eyes, and then something sets firmly in them. As if he’s made some kind of split-second decision. Virgil stands up from the stool and starts making his way towards the stage stairs, continuing to play and sing as he does so.

“You are the only exception. You are the only exception….”

Patton loses sight of him as he steps down to ground level, the crowd blocking his view. But Virgil keeps singing that line over and over, you are the only exception, as if imploring Patton to hear it and understand it and know it is meant for him. As if perhaps Virgil has to repeat it himself to fully believe in its truth, but each time he sings it, Patton can hear the conviction growing. Far ahead of him, Patton can see people shifting around in the mosh pit in front of him.

Patton doesn’t move. He doesn’t think he knows how to.

And then through the crowd of people in front of him steps Virgil, still playing. Still singing. And Patton can’t help but notice his eyes look wide and scared and vulnerable—but unwavering—as he sings the final line.

“But I’m on my way to believing…”

He plays the final chord and stands there, looking up at Patton. He’s so close. The guitar and a few inches is all that separates them. Patton swallows past the lump in his throat and brings a hand up to cup Virgil’s jaw before leaning his forehead against Virgil’s and whispering.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see Virgil’s relieved, crooked grin. But he feels it when Virgil presses his lips to his own.

[crimsonimagines]

Dating Deceit Would Include

Gets a little smutty at the end, just a fair warning. I mean Deceit is a babe

▪️Sometimes starting conversations but loving the silence of the moment.

▪️At classes seating close to each other. Sometimes sitting together but mostly for potions and projects because you know even a little bit how his mind works.

▪️At night he never lets you ram around the mind palace without him.

▪️After he tells you about how the sides hate him, understanding why.

▪️But still doing after and it becomes a thing for you.

▪️Starting to let you in more about his plans.

▪️But carefully

▪️Loving (ssshhh) your curious side and how you wanted to know more about the light side.

▪️"So If that's the most painful place for a man where is it for a woman?"

▪️"Well aren't you a curious little thing dear. "

▪️The other dark sides not minding you.

▪️He obviously had told them not to harm you.

▪️You getting along with Remus after you get to know each other a little more.

▪️"Okay now I know why he is your favourite. He is really interesting under his arrogance and big ego. " you say and Deceit smirks.

▪️"Hey I heard that f-! " *Deceit looking disapprovingly* "......lovable normie"

▪️Taking a stroll with him in the forest with his snakes.

▪️Gripping his hand tightly.

▪️Playing it cool but when a bird scares you, you scream and fall into his arms.

▪️"You know this is kinda ironic right? I can probably harm you more then anything in this forest. "

▪️"Oh hush! " you say.

▪️Kisses in secret passages of the mind palace.

▪️(Getting closer sentimentally to you.)

▪️Seeing him battle and win his opponent is a total turn on (Sorry not sorry)

▪️Mostly rough sex

▪️Like taking his time with you

▪️Slowly approaching the pain-pleasure subject especially after he founds out that you like spanking and choking (sorry not sorry again).

▪️Blowjobs for sure.

▪️Like when he is feeling pissed and generally needs to feel like a powerful man you are right there.

▪️You feeling sometimes that he might not do some things because he might not think you are good enough

▪️But he kissed you to shut you up

▪️Talking back to him one day while going to your .

▪️Telling him not to blame the light sides.

▪️Pinning you to the wall.

▪️"Listen to me dear. You don't tell me what to do. Also someone has to be blamed."his hands lowering to your waist and leans to your ear. " You have to get used to it love if you want to be with me." his hands slowly trailing up your thighs. "So now shut your pretty mouth because it's not going change anything" he says smirking to you now caressing you.

▪️Sighing and accepting that there is nothing that you can do. Kissing him while he leads you to your room too pissed to be around anywhere now.

[mitchmarnier]

9 and 16 please 🥰

Reddie + 9: Secret Relationship & 16: Cuddling for Warmth

Send me two prompts from this list and a pairing, and I’ll write a short ficlet for you! PROMPTS CURRENTLY CLOSED WHILE CATCHING UP ON PROJECTS!

Richie actually hated camping. He wasn’t much of an outdoors guy to be begin with, he could be convinced to go a nice post-rain nighttime walk every once in a while, but anything that included the sticky warmth of summer and being outside for hours at a time was a no from him. 

It was a constant sore spot with the rest of the Losers- excluding Bev- who all greatly enjoyed their outdoor summer activities. They always wanted to spend the days at beach or just simply fuck around outside. Go for pointless walks for hours with no destination in mind. And of course... camping. Spending days and nights outside. No thanks. Richie always tried to find a way out of it, and so far he had been successful.

But in the past, he and Eddie hadn’t been dating. It was much harder to say no to Eddie now. With those big puppy eyes and battling eye lashes, Eddie knew how to get Richie under his thumb. 

They hadn’t been officially in a relationship for very long. After leaving for college, they’d both been forced to admit to themselves that their feelings towards one another were more than just the deeply platonic that happened within the Losers Club. After they ended up making out while watching movies at Richie over Thanksgiving break, they had to admit it to each other as well. By Christmas, they were together, but fighting through the struggles of going to school on opposite sides of the country. They’d yet to tell the rest of their friends had their change in status just yet, waiting to see how things went once they could be together in person before getting any sort of ball rolling in the world.

As their summer in Derry finally was kick starting, so was their relationship. They were both serious about, more serious than maybe they should be so early in, but it wasn’t as though they were new to one another’s lives. Or had any other intentions of dating anybody else. 

Richie was, though, sort of considering breaking up with Eddie for forcing him to go camping in May. 

He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and curled up into a ball on the ground within their tent. Eddie, in just his over sized NYU sweater, laughed at his boyfriend. “Stop being such a baby.”

“A baby?” Richie gasped, barely visible between the blanket around him and black hat pulled low on his head. “It’s fucking freezing! And raining! It’s not even summer!! And we’re sleeping outside at night!”

“Ssshhh!” Eddie shushed him through giggles, crawling over to Richie’s side of tent. “If you’re so cold, you know the best way to warm up to exchange body heat, right?”

Richie’s face burned bright red at Eddie’s words, despite how cold he was. Since that faithful day in Richie’s bed over Thanksgiving break, the pair hadn’t been particularly intimate as a couple. It was hard when they didn’t see each other in the four months since Chrstmas and had been surrounded by friends or family nearly every moment since they’d gotten home the week before.

Eddie must have been able to read the panic on Richie’s face because he laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Richard, I’m going to to deflower you. I’m just going to make you my little spoon.” 

Richie smiled a little bashfully. Sometimes he regretted informing Eddie of his most embarrassing truth- that was he was still holding onto his virginity. It was maybe not a shameful secret of exactly, but it was one he wanted to keep under wraps. It went against his image enough that Eddie hadn’t quite believed him when Richie had told him.

Richie let Eddie crawl in beside him, curling his arms around Richie’s middle. He felt Eddie’s breath against his neck and sighed happily. He allowed himself to be spooned for a moment before he rolled over and blinked at his boyfriend.

“You know I wouldn’t be totally against you deflowering me. Just saying.”

Eddie grinned. 

[rhntaoyyan]

Why Ray Anthony Rocks?

What secrets hide behind “Ray Anthony” that makes it rock? Your first name is more than just a name!

R - is for refreshing, the sparkling you.

A - is for abundant, your cheer knows no bounds.

Y - is for yearn, your innermost desires.

A - is for absolute, for you know your mind.

N - is for neatness, your orderly way.

T - is for thoughtful, the caring you.

H - is for hero, as you appear to many.

O - is for openness, it’s refreshing!

N - is for nice, need I say more?

Y - is for young, the years never show!

Your name in reverse order is “Ynohtna Yar.” A random rearrangement of the letters in your name (anagram) will give ‘Rhntao Yyan.’ How do you pronounce that?

The true meaning of ‘Ray Anthony’ cannot be described with just a few words. Your name is your destiny, heart’s desire, and personality. Ray Anthony is a name that suggests you give up what you want so other people can have what they need. Like a six-sided cube, your personality is steady and balanced. You are very creative and artistically oriented but also willing to take action to accomplish your goals. Often you volunteer to work on civic projects and make your fair share of responsibility. Others seek your advice because you carefully listen to their problems.

Your heart’s desire is success in its fullest meaning. Wealth, power, and material comforts are important to you. You want fame for doing something impressive or unusual. You possess a creative mind with excellent problem-solving ability. Balancing emotions should be important to you. Others might feel that you try to control people without any consideration for their feelings or opinions.

When people hear the name Ray Anthony, they perceive you as someone who is mysterious, independent, and respectable. Others see you as an intellectual and an aristocrat. Being well-dressed increases your confidence and dignity. People see you as being analytical with keen observation.

You have a deep well of feelings and intense inner world. Energetic, thorough, kind-natured, and perfectionist are some of the words that can describe you. You have an excellent work ethic. Find a way to express and develop your latent talents.

Your most likely vocation: teacher, philosopher, educator, religious zealot, scientist, minister, instructor, writer, producer of luxury and beauty goods, manager of restaurant, irrigationist, horticulturist, zoologist, shipping magnate.

Lucky colors: All varieties of blue except the very bright blues

Lucky gem(s): Emerald, turquoise

Lucky day(s): Sunday, Monday, and Friday

Lucky botanicals: Verbena, dog rose, violets, walnuts, all types of beans, apricot, almonds

Is The Name Ray Anthony Popular?

The U.S. Social Security Administration (ssa.gov) public data has no record of the name Ray Anthony. Imagine that, your name is not present in the 6,028,151 public data. One possible reason is that there are fewer than five occurrences of your name. Ssshhh, the SSA is trying to protect your privacy. You might want to use a short version of your first name or perhaps your nickname.

On the other hand, you merely have a name that no one else in America is using. Your parents have done an impressive research job. For 139 years only they have thought of the name “Ray Anthony.” Admirable!

[styleatacertainage]

SAATCHI ART | A GIFT FOR MR. STYLE

this post brought to you by Saatchi Art

what gift can you find for the man who has everything? every year like clockwork this thought swirls through my brain. first, this question strictly applied to my father who was the type of man that was soooo hard to shop for especially when you’re a teenager with limited funds. if my dad wanted or needed anything he’d solve the problem himself. and he stumped me year after year when it came to gift-giving. that is until i discovered fun and jazzy socks for that buttoned-up investment banker. can i just take a moment and pat myself on the back for loosening his sense of style?! he loved those dang socks and looked forward to new ones every year.

but when i married mr. style lo those thirty-five years ago i was faced with the same dilemma. what gift is special enough for a special man that has everything? well, this year i decided a piece of original artwork would be the perfect gift for mr. style. ssshhh, don’t tell him quite yet. this will be our little secret. that is, yours, mine and Saatchi Art, an online gallery that has an art advisor on staff to help guide me through the process. it’s like having your own expert curator, free of charge. and i loved the fact that Saatchi Art features works at a wide range of prices to suit all budgets, projects, and styles. original artwork doesn’t have to break the bank. with an unparalleled selection of paintings, photography, sculpture, and drawings by over 60,000 artists from around the world there was bound to be a special piece of art that mr. style would fall in love with. Saatchi Art also provides international shipping and customs for a completely hassle-free delivery. they’ve included the price of shipping within the artwork price. what you see is what you pay.

first step was chatting with my personal Saatchi Art advisor, monty, who happily guided me through my selection. there were a series of questions to answer: did mr. style prefer paintings, drawings or photography? abstract paintings, black and white photography, surreal paintings, depictions of landscapes or seascapes, or works depicting people or something else? what colors is he drawn to? where would the painting hang? preferred dimensions?

after our Q&A session monty curated several pieces of art to gauge if we were headed in the right direction. and, boom, i fell in love with this painting Uluru Storm by Doug Selb. here are the artist’s thoughts:

A painting of the iconic Uluru or Ayers Rock on a stormy night. In the Uluru series, I have sought to capture the great Australian rock in different light. Spinifex is included as another consistent subject of interest. These paintings might particularly appeal to those who have made the trek and visited Uluru, and have seen it change colour, hour by hour, moment by moment.

mr. style and i have had the distinct pleasure of visiting australia during our years overseas. both of us fell in love with that magical country. this painting sums up the raw beauty found in ‘the land down under.’ fingers crossed mr. style will love it just as much as i think he will. my personal Saatchi Art advisor, monty, handled all of the shipping arrangements and kept me in the loop as to when the painting would arrive. the entire process of picking out the perfect gift for mr. style was seamless. before i knew it the artwork had arrived on my doorstep.

can you believe i found the perfect spot for mr. style’s new painting? now i just have to figure out how to wrap this gorgeous piece of artwork.

a big thank you to Saatchi Art for this sponsored post. and thank you lovely readers for supporting the brands that allow me to bring you fresh ideas.

[dailydoseofdevy]

Title: A Ziltoidian Rapture (Ramblings from Ziltoid and another version of Juular)

Artist: The Devin Townsend Project

Album: Contain Us - (Bonus track from Vinyl)

Transcription / Lyrics below:

And so, triumphantly, without even a hint of irony, the hero of the day proudly proclaims himself master of the universe. And towards the contempt, the omnipresent contempt, he replies to the criticisms, in a full, sonorous tone of voice: "Eat a bag of dick! All of you! As if it were the last bag of dicks ever!

The reason that this evolved, fully and beyond anything that requires further analysis, I say unto thee, I am an irretrievable narcisist! I feel that which I create, from the infinite source. You and your cronies.. shall receive nothing! You should expect nothing! Except for.. my pity, scorn, and absolute.. profound beauty!

Dinner is served in the grand cafe of the mind. You there! Come! Believe. Yes! Cling on to me! Klingons in Uranus! Quiet.. quiet.. Ssshhh, quiet now..

[Fart sounds]

The universe speaks to me in tongues.. The tongues of many.. The minds of few.. The silence is deadly.. The deadliness is.. Profoundly large!

Star-Date 59254 After months of fighting off the insurgencies, I, Ziltoid the Omniscient, with my crew full of like-minded imbeciles. Tired, scorned, and full of contempt for ourselves, (We must trust in ourselves my friends)

Tell me, are you going to finish all that yourself? The knot backwards, upon his jaws he put his beard They make laments upon the wonderous tune.. Ow! Ow! Ow! Grab me your hand and pluck The branch lit off the great thorn. And the trunk cried "Why dost thou mangle me?" What's to be?

(One is all connected, tungsten body glowing mind!)

Crew, we have arrived Although, this part of the universe, strange, So mysterious, yet beautiful.. The home of the fabled hurtling weenie-borg Yes, psychoactive minds collecting into one.. One. One universal testicle!

[Choir of weird "Ah"s and screaming]

(What's the point of this? Where's the happiness..) -Penis! (..we've been promised?)

Eeeyah! Running! Bereft of the futile past and the stinking present! Yes, every step towards the goal is a step backwards in terms of my ability to urinate in public.

(Home, home, home, home, home, home,) Sing!

(I go home, home, home, home) Sing to me of the stars! (When we meet you god we go home)

(Home, home, home, home, home, home, I go home, home, home, home) Sing to me of physical contact with sexual organs during your formative years (When we meet your god we will say)

Say goodbye, you know I've tried.. But now the time to mourn has died. It's cold inside the worm (Cold..) Nothing ever bothers me now.. (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, wa-home..) Yes! I am the man.. (Home, home, home, home, baddyabba baddyabba-ba!)

And you're the Lady Vagine, and I know I'm dying.. (Baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, badda-ba-ba, Baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, badda-ba-ba,) (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, wa-home,)

But to my surprise, the punishment subsides.. (Baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, badda-ba-ba, Baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, badda-ba-ba,) (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, wa-home,) (dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink,)

It's cold outside, my son.. (Baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba, badda-ba-ba, Baddah-ba-ba, baddah-ba-ba,) (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home,) (dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink, dink,) (Oooh.. Oooh.. Oooh.. Oooh..)

Nothing ever bothers you now!

(Aah A-aah-ah, Ah!) I survived..

(Aah A-aah Ah-ah Aah!) Nothing ever bothers Juular.. (Aah A-aah-ah, Ah!)

Eye for an eye, I survived and god damns you, (A-aah.. A-aah..!) HEY..

(Aah A-aah-ah, Ah!) I survived..

(Aah A-aah Ah-ah Aah!) Nothing ever bothers Juular (Aah A-aah-ah, Ah!)

Eye for an eye, I survived and god damns you.. (A-aah.. A-aah..!) (URAAAAAAH!!)

Juular! You gargle my alien nut sack! (God damns you!)

Lady of mine, (of mine..) (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home,)

you know I'm trying.. (I'm trying..) (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, wa-home,)

But to buy the buy, (buy..) (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home,)

this boy must die.. (must die..) (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, wa-home,)

It's cold inside, my love.. (Home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home, home,)

Nothing ever bothers me now! (Nothing ever bothers me now!)

(Aah A-aah-ah, Ah!) I survived!

(Aah A-aah Ah-ah Aah!) Nothing ever bothers Juular! (Aah A-aah-ah, Ah!)

Eye for an eye, I survived and god damns you! (A-aah.. A-aah..!) HEY!

(Aah A-aah-ah, Ah!) I survived!

(Aah A-aah Ah-ah Aah!) Nothing ever bothers JUULAR!! (Aah A-aah-ah, Ah!)

Eye for an eye, I survived and god DAMNS YOU!! (A-aah.. A-aah..!)¨

(Say goodbye.. You know I've tried..) Ladies and gentlemen

(Say goodbye.. You know I've tried..) Ziltoid the Omniscient can not survive on good will alone. I need your coffee. And by coffee, I mean money.

(Say goodbye.. You know I've tried..) Provide your income on Ziltoidian trinkets endorse

(Say goodbye.. You know I've tried..) Epicloud is next. Enjoy capitalism!

(oooooaaaaaAAAAAAARHHHHH!) And then my minions, do you know what comes next? After comes Zed Squared! (SQUARED!)

Do you hear me? Tell me you want it! (All beef patties, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun)

Bun! (All beef patties, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun..)

(Aaaah.. A-aah, Aa-aah..)

Oh glorious cheeseburger, the secrets of the universe Are between your bum cheeks! (All beef patties, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun)

Cheeseburger! (Cheeseburger!)

This is Ziltoid the Omnisicient signing off Thank you for your attention! Thus ends the DTP!”

[Bunch of silly "falalala" sounds]

[kimslastlines]

Ssshhh... Secret Passion Project |Following Dark Story-Squirrel Trails #CampNanowrimo

Ssshhh... Secret Passion Project | Following Dark Story-Squirrel Trails #CampNanowrimo ...Because certain dark things are to be loved (and imagined) in secret... #CampNaNoWriMo19 #WIP #amwriting #fantasy #mythology #grimdark #dystopian

So, it’s been a while since I’ve taken part in a Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) event. I had intentions of doing the official Nanowrimo in November last year but my schedule just didn’t allow for it. But this year I am taking part in Nanowrimo events. The first event, Camp Nanowrimo, starts 1 April. I have signed up. To make things even more fun, I’ve corralled my CP, Darcy, (Writing…

[inevitablesurrender]

This is the first time in many, many years that I’ve spent this much time with my sewing machine.  ...There are reasons for that.  It’s not an inherently difficult machine; while it's not technically "industrial-level" it's a plastic shell with solid, heavy steel internals, it can definitely handle leather with a little slow-down, and it's well cared for, kept clean and oiled, is reasonable easy to disassemble and reassemble, etc.  It was the first big purchase I ever made with my own money coming from my own work.

It continue to make me think that the tension knob is haunted.  Just that.  There’s nothing wrong with it, as far as I can tell.  It just likes to occasionally be random.  That’s fun.  It’s been working with me pretty well so far today, though.  On silks and velvets, even.  Then I’ll have to... disassemble, clean, oil and reassemble it.  Again.

...Yeah I’m going to get the biggest long internet stares when you all see what I’m actually doing.

Psst, Crab, we’re on the same wavelength, ssshhh secret project.