#virgil wants a strawberry

[salemsclowncorner]

What I, as a barista, think each side's coffee order would be:

Logan: Nitro Cold brew, the others have begged him to try something less boring, but he never orders anything else

Patton: Strawberry Frappuccino, he's too scared to try anything with caffine in it

Roman: the most obnoxious monstrosity of a Carmel Frappuccino he can get. He wants extra shots of espresso and toppings AND extra Carmel drizzle

Virgil: says he wants a black coffee. he does not. If he's by himself, he'll order a chai tea latte with cream foam on top

Janus: Wants an English breakfast tea latte made with oatmilk and honey and steeped for a very specific period of time. Refuses to share, won't even let the others have a sip.

Remus: he changes it every time but they're all horrible abominations that the workers dread making for him. Lemonade with three shots of espresso and pumps of random syrups, a steamed apple juice with heavy cream poured into it and topped with iced coffee, every single syrup, milk, and topping thrown into a blender, etc.

[beheadedtheatrekid]

do u have any production photos? im soo intersted ur show seems so cool so far :3

also as the official jane question guy i would loveee to know what kind of doll ur jane is inspired by? any specific things u do different with her? ooo and does ur jane have any backstory or character relationships u came up with.....

I'm not sure about production photos (we had some, but I can't find it)

My Jane is inspired by antique porcelain dolls (I think they're cute)

Specific details about Jane from our production:

Jane eats cake instead of cupcake

Jane appears during Fall Fair Suite and then disappears

Jane's voice sounds more like voice of Strawberry Shortcake in 1980s

Sometimes Jane just falls for no reason

Jane is trembling all the time

Sometimes she wants to say something, but others just don't let her

Also she's the only one who pays attention at four rats sitting in the background (Virgil, Virginia, Vincent and Evlampia)

[vampypurplequ33n]

I just imagined the Sides playing Stardew Valley, and I have no regrets for what I say.

————————————

Here’s what I think each of them would do:

Logan would probably be playing the game either like a speed run, or just think of profit. He would avoid the dateable NPCs like the plague and barely grow relationships with anyone. He would be only thinking about the tasks and nothing more. Oh, he’s also definitely finish the community center the quickest out of the other sides. He also has the most organized farm, and he’d only go to the festivals where he knows he can get something out of it, like the strawberry seeds from the egg hunt festival. He also would either sleep too early, or pass out at 2:00 AM. No in between.

Patton would be friends with everyone, have full hearts with them all, and would either marry Harvey or Elliott, mostly cus they fit his type. (Cough cough Janus/Logan) The kids would love him, he’d be full hearts with all the animals in the pen, and it would be IMPOSSIBLE for me to not see him without the golden retriever dog. Or the white cat because this is the only game where he can have a car and not be allergic to them. Also, he would avoid the mines like a plague and do all the help wanted requests even if he didn’t have the items right away. I can also see him having a not too organized farm, where 90% of that farm will be saved for animals or be a hot mess, and the 10% just having farmland that’s decently neat after Logan taught him what it could look like for maximum efficiency.

Roman would DEFINITELY have 6 saves with each of the dateable men married on each one. His farm would be AESTHETIC AS HELL with either a shed or a cabin decorated like crazy. He would be in the skull caverns or mines just killing monsters, and he’d be besties with all the female NPCs. He’d be gravitated towards Elliott or Sebastian, and probably join the save with Shane less but would still go because he’d be like ��I can FIX HIM!!” Even tho after marriage he goes RIGHT BACK TO SQUARE ONE WITH THIS MAN. After all of that, he’d probably finish the community center after like… maybe year 3 or 4?? And I’m being generous here.

Virgil would choose the Spooky farm, and would ONLY start actively socializing in fall. Only because of the Halloween season. He would avoid all of the NPCs like the plague, and barely want to go to Pierre’s because of social interaction to buy seeds. He’d probably be friends with Abigail and Sebastian, and would definitely develop a crush on either Sam or Alex after maybe year 2- He would also be SUPER anxious about the tasks, sometimes to the point he’d never do them. He’d only go outside to either be in the mines, or on a rainy day. He may also call Elliott a knock off version of Roman, and definitely would say Harvey is Logan. And he would choose any of the cats, but definitely the black one.

Janus would probably say he wouldn’t bother, but would secretly play it for hours after everyone’s gone asleep. His farm would be a mix of Roman’s and Logan’s, with it leaning more towards the Logan side. He would probably call very NPC a knockoff of each of the sides, saying Linus is the closest to Remus but would more so compare him to any hostile mob instead like a slime. He would probably marry either Elliott or Alex, and would probably try to divorce them soon after marriage. He DEFINITELY would cheat his way through occasionally, only to get a loved gift by an NPC, or would get himself extra buffs if he was too lazy. Shit, he’d probably start with the cheats just cus he’d say something like “The start of the game is too slow” or something like that.

Remus…. Oh boy. He would use cheats but use it to get bombs, and explode everything. He also would drink mayo infront of all the NPCs, and gift each of them trash cus he can. He would dig in the trash every single day, and would chop down all the trees. He’d constantly pass out at 2:00 AM, pretty sure he’d be at the Saloon 60% of the time, and would probably romance Sebastian and would make Elliott hate him cus yknow.. he reminds him of Roman.

Y’all can pick the farms they’d most likely pick, but I know Logan would choose the standard farm, Patton would choose the group farm so he could play with the other sides, Roman would maybe choose the meadowlands for the aesthetic, Virgil would choose the Spooky farm, as well as Remus, and Janus would prolly pick the hilltop or forest farm just to say he can be away from everyone.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

You're Special to Me

Can you write a fic where Remus keeps on comparing himself to roman (negatively) and the other sides also doing it, albeit unknowingly. It’s alright if you can’t, no pressure! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-esteem issues, self-doubt, remus has some abandonment issues

Pairings: platonic creativitwins

Word Count: 3761

The others have a nasty habit of comparing Roman and Remus. It starts to get grating after a while. Good thing Roman's always thought his brother was the best.

1.

“Remus?”

Remus pokes his head out from under the whale carcass, adjusting the brim of his rain jacket to see Logan wading dubiously through the trail of viscera from here to the door. “Oh, hey, Pocket Protector, whattya need?”

“We had a brainstorm scheduled to start five minutes ago.”

“Oh, yeah, I was wondering when you were gonna show up.”

“Yes, so if you wouldn’t mind—wait, ‘show up?’”

He tosses a chunk into the piranha tank and the water froths up. “Yeah. You asked to have a brainstorm with me, so I was waiting for you.”

“Ah, I see. Typically brainstorms are held in the study or the living room.”

“Yeah, Ro’s are.”

Logan blinks. “Hm?”

“ Roman’s brainstorms with you are in the living room or the study or whatever. That’s ‘cause he can do the whole write-stuff-down-talk-it-out thing. I gotta be doing something.”

Logan dodges a spray of…something Remus isn’t going to name but rhymes with a really frizzy hairstyle, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Would you opposed to having a brainstorm in one of those locations if you bring something to do?”

“Peachy keen, Lolo, but there’re rules about me bringing my projects to places.”

“That is true,” he mutters under his breath, “is—so I take it you would prefer to have the brainstorm here as you…work?”

“Yep.” When Logan doesn’t say anything for a moment, Remus lowers his bone saw and glances over at him. “Is…is that okay?”

“Well, I’m going to have to change my state of dress, and take audio recordings that I’ll have to transcribe later, but yes, I believe that is acceptable. You’ll have to give me a moment to change.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Logan nods and weaves his way carefully around the mounds of blubber starting to grow around Remus’s work station. Remus watches him go, a chunk falling slowly off of his shoulder, before he looks back at the carcass. He still has a few hours of work to properly strip it to where it’s usable, and this kind of work is nice for brainstorming ‘cause it’s mostly rote at this point, but there’s a sudden greyness to everything. Like if he raised his tools and tried to keep going the whale might turn to paper in front of him.

He sits there amidst his carnage, the faint sound of the piranhas nibbling away in the sloshing water behind him. He looks down at his hands, at the calluses and old scars. The bone saw lies limply across his knee.

Logan didn’t seem angry that he’d misunderstood what he wanted, but he did seem disappointed. Like he really wanted Remus to not be doing this and come to the study to do the brainstorm. Like Roman. But Roman’s process wasn’t Remus’s process and Logan had asked specifically to brainstorm with Remus.

The familiar sound of rain boots squishing through viscera brings him back, glancing over to see Logan wading through toward him with a recorder in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Whoa, cool jacket.”

“Thank you, I had Virgil help me design it after the one you made for him.” Logan brandishes the recorder and eyes the whale corpse. “Well, shall we get to it?”

“I’ve already got a few ideas.”

2.

Remus bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, barely resisting the urge to flap his hands. This is it! He’s finally been allowed to join in on the communal baking day where everyone gets to make their own dessert for movie night. He stayed up late last night thinking of all the delicious things they could make and finally, finally got his list down to just five options. He’s really leaning toward the strawberry fruit tart but the lemon squares look so good but the pumpkin spice cookies would be so much fun to decorate—

Something shoves him gently into the wall and he grins as Roman ruffles his hair a little too hard.

“Roro!”

“Hey, Re, you look excited.” Roman chuckles as Remus chews excitedly on his costume collar. “You ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

“Roman? Is Remus there?”

“He’s all yours, Padre.” Roman winks and ruffles his hair again. “Go get ‘em.”

Remus bounds into the kitchen, startling Patton a little as he sets something on the counter. He reaches into his pocket for the piece of paper—he even wrote it on paper this time to make it easier—and opens his mouth to explain his options, when—

“Good, I wondered where you were. Could you go ahead and measure the white sugar out for me?”

Remus pauses. Patton looks at him expectantly, holding out the cup. He takes it slowly, glancing at the containers and bowls already amassed on the counter. “Uh—what?”

“The white sugar. Granulated sugar, if you’d prefer. It’s in this one over here—“ he indicates a white paper bag— “and it just goes in that bowl there.”

A bit of grey flickers across his vision. “But we haven’t chosen what we’re making yet.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t tell you. We’re just gonna be making chocolate chip cookies.”

He frowns. “Ro said we get to choose what we make.”

Patton’s smile twitches a bit. “Oh, I just figured it would be—since we always have chocolate chip and it’s your first time—the others have already made their choices, they did it yesterday—“

Patton keeps talking as the list in his hand slowly greys out. They did it…yesterday? And didn’t tell Remus? But Ro said that he could pick…

“…so I figured this would be the easiest.” Patton’s still talking. “But if you really, really want to make something else, then—“

“No,” he grits out, shoving the list in his pocket and going over to the sugar, “I love chocolate chip cookies.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad, I love them too! Yeah, so that just goes in there.”

As they bake, or as Patton tells Remus what to do and watches him carefully as he does it, he can’t help thinking that this isn’t at all what Roman said it was like and how he doesn’t…really want to do it ever again. But at least he can eat as much of the cookie dough as he wants while Patton isn’t looking.

3.

“…hey, Snakey?”

Janus looks up from his book with the patented what-did-you-do-how-much-of-your-mess-am-I-going-to-have-to-clean-up expression and Remus squirms under it. He raises an eyebrow.

“Would you teach me how to dance?”

The expression morphs into one of surprise in an instant. He sets down his book. “Certainly, I can teach you. What for?”

”There’s a, uh, thing in the Imagination next month that me and Ro are putting on and we, uh, part of it’s a ball thing.”

“Mm. Will the rest of us be invited?”

“…I think so? I dunno, I need to talk to Ro. We, uh, no one else knows about it yet.”

“Ooh, a secret, I do love those.”

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

Janus chuckles, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. Remus takes it and blinks as Janus takes them to a room in the Imagination he’s never seen before. Which in and of itself isn’t all that weird, because there are plenty of things that Ro makes that he never sees, but this one feels…familiar, almost. Like he’s seen it in a dream or something and only just now actually being able to picture it clearly.

At the very back of the theater, hidden in the shadows, some of the red seats look a little faded.

“Alright,” Janus says, “we’re going to learn a very simple waltz.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Well, you’re part of Thomas, and Thomas knows how to do a box step, which means most of it is already in there somewhere.” Janus taps the side of his head. “So, put your arms around me—no, no! Remus, put me down.”

“You said put my arms around you.”

“Not like that, like this.” Janus takes one of his hands and puts it on his waist, holding the other one out to the side. “Don’t—we’re not about to charge someone, Remus, relax.”

He goes all noodley and Janus sighs, making him stand back up with his arms not held out like he’s brandishing a weapon. Once they’re standing in a way that he approves of, he starts explaining how the steps work.

“Can you show me your box step?”

“While I’m holding you?”

“Good point.” Janus takes three very large steps backward and folds his arms. “Go ahead.”

Remus does his box step. Janus looks at him with his head tilted and sighs again. Every time he sighs a few more seats get a little greyer.

“I suppose it could be worse. Now, here’s what I’d like you to do: hold onto me, yes, like that, and do your box step. I am going to do an opposite box step and we are going to just try that, okay?”

Remus nods, looking down to make sure he doesn’t step on Janus, and starts his box. Janus moves back but he’s moving in a way that makes Remus have to let go.

“Hold onto me.”

“But you moved.”

“We’re dancing, Remus, we’re going to move.”

“But you—okay.”

Despite Janus’s patience—and fond exasperation that sometimes isn’t quite as fond—Remus can’t help but get hot behind the ears at how his body just doesn’t seem to want to do any of this. But every time they turn to face the back of the curtain, he sees memories of Roman dancing effortlessly in the big palace ballroom and he grits his teeth.

The curtains have gone grey by the time Janus calls an end to the misery of a lesson.

4.

“C’mon, Emo, you can do it…” Virgil’s next inhale is almost a whine. “Shh, shh, it’s…it’s okay, just…just try and breathe.”

“It’s not working.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re panicking—“

“I know I’m panicking! Knowing I’m panicking doesn’t help!”

Remus winces as Virgil almost shoves him away, He goes, because when someone’s having a panic attack and they let you know you’re making it worse, then you leave. But he can’t pull away too much because Virgil is hurting himself and that’s why he got summoned in the first place.

“Little spider,” he tries again, and Virgil lets him shift a little closer, “I’m…I don’t know what to do.”

Not the thing to say when someone’s having a panic attack. Virgil sobs again, curling up even tighter, beginning to make small hitching noises whenever he can draw breath.

“Remus? Virgil? What’s—oh. Oh, no.”

”Ro?”

Roman hurries toward them, falling to his knees next to the shaking pile of Virgil, immediately pressing a kiss to his head and going to wrap his arms around him.

“Wait, he doesn’t want to be…” Remus trails off as Virgil immediately clings to Roman, latching on like a limpet and refusing to let go.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, Stormcloud, I’m right here. Shh, shh, shh, you’re alright, you’re safe, nothing’s gonna hurt you right now.”

It’s not fair of him to be jealous when Roman gets Virgil to calm down almost right away. It’s not fair of him to be resentful that Roman’s who Virgil wants when he’s upset. It’s not fair to be upset or offended by what someone needs to come out of having a panic attack. That’s not cool, it’s not right, it’s not fair to Virgil or Roman or himself.

But Remus watches Roman cuddle Virgil and press gentle kisses to his forehead, and he looks down at his own hands that still have some Kraken slime on them from when he got summoned, and he sinks out before Virgil’s feeling all the way better.

He hates himself a little more for it, but not as much as he hates himself for not being the person that Virgil wanted.

5.

It would be easier if Roman were shitty about it.

If he made a point to hold it over Remus’s head, or if he tried to help out of pity or pushed the others into including Remus when it was obvious that no one really wanted to, it would be better. But no, Ro doesn’t even seem to know it’s happening. Which is shitty in and of itself, but the others don’t even realize they’re doing it sometimes and it’s never where Roman is anywhere within earshot. It’s just glaringly fucking obvious that Remus is not Roman and everyone else fucking knows it.

It would be better if they weren’t both Creativity. It would be better if Roman and him weren’t constantly lumped together. It would be better if he was actually capable of truly hating Roman.

But he can’t. Because Roman’s his brother and he loves him more than he hates himself.

He doesn’t hate himself, not really. He loves his energy, loves his drive, loves his willingness to do whatever, explore whatever, be whatever, he wouldn’t want to be like anyone else because then who would be him? But he hates the way that the version of himself he wants to be is the exact fucking opposite of everything he has to be in order to not be always a little bit worse than Roman.

Even his fucking Kraken prefers Roman.

He’d shown up to Ollie’s pond with his favorite chum and the ball with the holes big enough for his arms so they could play catch, but Ollie had sniffed around and seen that there was only one of them—and it wasn’t Roman, and he’d drifted off into the corner of the pond to sulk. No amount of coaxing or bribing had been able to make the Kraken do anything more than half-heartedly chuck the ball not even halfway across the pond.

Remus left before he started crying and went to the dark underwater sea cave deep underneath the black tower’s subbasement. He shifted enough so he could breathe underwater and curled up in the thick kelp forest where no one would be able to find him unless they poked around with a flashlight. The kelp dissipated the sound waves of his sobs, a tentacle in his mouth to muffle them even further. Along the bottom of the cave, tiny tetra fish nibbled at his scales.

He’d stayed there for at least an hour before he realized that no one would come to look for him, so he’s been drifting ever since. Every so often the tears return, the kelp absorbing them as readily as ever, at least until they taper off again and he just floats there, in the water while the fish nibble the dead skin away from his scales. There was something comforting about the greyness of the water, how smooth and quiet it was, how easy it was to just look at the shape of the kelp and the movement of the fish and just drift…alone.

Yeah, it’d be much easier if Roman was shitty about it. But he isn’t, and that’s just another way that he’s better than Remus.

+1.

Remus doesn’t even have time to lie down and close his eyes before someone’s grabbing him around the waist and sinking him into the Imagination. They crash into a pile of pillows and he gets a mouthful of one, spluttering.

” Ro!”

”Hey, you always do it to me! Payback time!” He barely gets himself free before Roman’s throwing a pillow at him. “Now arm yourself!”

“What—“ he dodges Roman’s swing— “hey!”

“No talking, only pillow fighting!”

Remus manages to get the big green pillow up in front of his face just as Roman launches himself off another pile and come barreling down at him. He rolls onto his side and swats Roman across the face. Roman yelps and laughs and swats him back.

“You’re not winning this time!”

“I didn’t win last time! I— ack!”

“C’mon, Re, I know you can do better than that!”

“Oh, it’s on.”

The two of them turn the pillow piles into a war zone, launching projectiles and themselves from various places until Roman gets Remus’s arms pinned and he can bap him lightly in the face over and over and over.

“ Ack—ppth—Ro!”

“Do you yield?”

“Yeah, yeah, you— pffthp— I fucking yield.”

Roman chuckles and presses a big smacking kiss to Remus’s cheek, rolling off of him and sprawling out across the pillow carnage with a contented sigh. Remus winces, pulling himself into a sitting position, grabbing one of the plushier pillows to hold.

They’re in one of the higher tree canopy tents, he realizes as he takes in their surroundings without the distraction of plush warfare. Overlooking the massive waterfalls with the help of the full moon and the soft glow of the amber lanterns overhead, he can spot a few of the others in trees surrounding the falls as the rush and roar of the water fades soothingly into the background. The soft sweet smell of fresh water wafts upwards, mixing with the cool night air. He curls up a little more, hugging the pillow, watching the water rush by.

“So,” Roman grunts as he sits up a few moments later, “are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Mhm.” Something pokes his side and Remus yelps. “You sure?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m sure, I— eep!”

”You really sure?” Fingers keep poking and kneading his sides and trying to get under the pillow. “You really, really sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I said no!”

He moves without thinking. One second Roman’s sitting next to him and the next he’s sprawled near the other side of the tent. A horrible itchy guilty mess starts building in the back of Remus’s throat and he looks away before he can watch the shutter fall over Roman’s face.

Because that’s why Roman did all this, isn’t it? He noticed Remus was upset and because he’s a good brother, he took him to their favorite sleeping spot and had a pillow fight with him and asked him if he was okay. Because Remus isn’t like Roman and he didn’t appreciate any of it and then he just shoved Roman away when all he was doing was trying to help and he really is just the worst brother ever, isn’t he?

”I could’ve done that better,” he hears softly before the gentlest arms wrap around his shoulders and there’s a warm chin on his left one, “I knew better, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“You’re fine.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Re, I just—I’m worried about you.”

“…you are?”

“Yeah. You’ve been—you’ve been kinda grey lately, you know? I’ve tried asking the others if they know what’s been going on, but they don’t—whoa, hey, hey,” Roman whispers when Remus starts to sniffle, “hey, c’mere, let me cuddle you, hey, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“‘M sorry, it’s not your fault, promise—“

“Hey, hey, uh-uh, none of that, you’re okay.” Roman pulls him into a weird pretzel ball of limbs and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Does it have something to do with the others?”

“…it’s not their fault either.”

“Now I think we both know that might not be entirely true.”

“‘S stupid.”

“It’s making you upset, Re, it’s not stupid.”

“But it’s true!”

“What’s true?”

“You’re—you’re better than m-me.”

Roman goes very still for a second, then he pulls back and cups Remus’s face in his hands. “What the hell do you mean, ‘I’m better than you?’”

And just like that, the whole sorry story comes driveling out of him. About how Logan didn’t really want to do the brainstorm, about how Patton didn’t let him pick what he wanted to bake, about how he couldn’t comfort Virgil properly, about how hard trying to learn how to dance was, even how Ollie didn’t want to play with him. And Roman looks at him and his face falls and then he’s shaking his head and squishing Remus’s cheeks a little.

“You’re not worse than I am and I’m not better than you. We’re different, and that’s fine and good. Who gives a shit if Logan got a bit messy, you’re the one who can multitask way better than anyone else here. You have the discipline to actually train with all of your weapons and you can fight with all of them. And who the hell does Patton think he is that he can regiment who can bake what? I’ll bake with you next time and we can make whatever the hell you want. And as for Virgil—you know he only started coming to me because he missed you, right? I’m serious,” he continues when Remus’s eyes almost bug out of his head, “he said that your energy was really comforting when he was growing up and I have a similar one so he started coming to me. Don’t tell him I told you that, though.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles, but he’s still too caught up on everything else.

“I don’t give a shit what they all think, you hear me? I think you’re incredible and you’re my brother. I’m the only one allowed to start our stupid sibling rivalry shit.”

”What about me?”

“Fine, you can start it too. But only us, okay?”

Remus sniffles. “But then why didn’t Ollie want to play with me?”

“Because you don’t sneak him treats when you play Toss.”

”Wait, you what?”

“Uh, I mean—“

Remus grabs a pillow and thwacks Roman over the head with it. Roman bursts out laughing and half hugs, half tackles Remus to the ground.

“You’re fucking great all on your own, Re, you don’t need anyone else’s approval.” He leans up a bit. “But you always have mine, okay? I’m always gonna think you’re the greatest.”

“Even when I put slime in your bed?”

“I’ll get you back by putting dragon splines in yours.”

“You better not.”

“Don’t put slime in my bed, then.”

Remus gives another sniffly little laugh and Roman ruffles his hair. They both lie down to look at the waterfall, arms wrapped around each other.

“…hey Ro?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re the best brother ever.”

“No,” Roman says, booping Remus’s nose, “ you are.”

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[kotylynnemerrill]

Your words I hold forever

December 31st, 1967 10.57pm

Surprised was not the... appropriate word.

Fez didn't exactly have the broadest of vocabulary but he was sure there was - had to be a stronger word for his current feelings.

Clicking the spark wheel of his lighter, the large flame illuminated Fez's face (and hers) as he lit the joint nestled between his lips. He inhaled deeply, silently counted to three, and expelled the smoke through his nostrils.

Fez suddenly wished he had brought something stronger as he chanced a glance at the young woman who had plopped down next to him on the worn couch.

She probably wouldn't remember him, it had been a few years but, he recognized her. Lexi Howard. A few years younger than himself... pretty sure the same age as Rue.

Fez remembered when she would tag along with Rue and sit on the roof of his grandmother's store...almost every evening, like clockwork, letting their feet dangle off the edge while they ate an ice cream cone. He remembered she liked strawberry.

Fez had often wondered why she stopped coming by the store with Rue...then again, there had been a big change in Rue over the past couple of years...since her dad had passed. It didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out what probably had happened...

It had probably started even before that...when her dad first got sick...he thinks he remembers Rue making a comment about it when they first started hanging out.

But grief could really fuck with a person and Fez had no qualms with selling Rue a little weed here and there...if it helped, if that was what she needed to cope.

But it's never that simple...never that black and white. If that had been the only thing.

So Fez was not surprised to see Rue here tonight, her hair a dark halo of messy, tight curls, and her eyes heavy and unfocused. Not his doing...this time. Whatever helped satisfy the guilt festering inside his stomach...and his chest.

But Lexi Howard...what was she doing here?

She was smart (he gathered, from what little Rue had shared), pretty (her face and body now possessing all the qualities of a woman - compared to the last time he saw her), and classy.

Fez couldn't help but admire her outfit...the way the skirt hugged her fuller hips and the way the magenta colored blouse seemed to enhance the rich brown of her eyes.

He didn't understand what someone like her was doing here at one of Virgil Smith's parties.

Fez was pretty sure she hadn't come here with Rue. Perhaps she had come with her sister Cassie? He had seen Cassie Howard around. She was in the same year of college as Virgil and knew she attended these functions often enough.

She never bought nothing too hard off of him...not like Rue. But, as Fez thought back, he hadn't seen Cassie tonight. She seems to be here by herself.

Hell, it was New Year's Eve...the school year was just about over with... probably just wanted to let loose a little.

Fez was still surprised though.

She looked stressed to be honest. Maybe Lexi Howard wasn't having such a good time after all. Neither was he. Fez didn't exactly come to these parties for pleasure...but maybe that could change tonight.

Fuck it. He wasn't looking to get lucky or anything like that but with all the current chaos going on in the world (not to mention his own personal bull shit) it wouldn't kill him to make an effort at least.

He might not get this chance again...Maybe Lexi Howard would remember him.

"Yo, you Rue's friend right?"

Lexi's eyes widened in surprise at Fez's voice. She slowly inclined her head towards him and gave a small nod.

"Yeah..." A shy smile graced her red lips. "Since like grade school."

She frowned suddenly, scrunching her nose... embarrassed. "Sorry. Ion know why I said that."

Fez shrugged. "It's cool. You met when you met." He took another drag of the joint and turned his head as he blew out the smoke, careful not to blow it in her direction. "Yo. What was your name again?"

"Lexi." She answered. Fez took notice of how her hands nervously twitched in her lap. Hopefully he wasn't making her uncomfortable.

"Lexi..." Fez rolled her name around his tongue "I like that. That's a nice name."

"Thanks." Fez's lips lifted in one corner and Lexi mimicked his actions. He liked the way the apples of her cheeks reddened and Fez wondered if he could always feel the lub dub of his heart as clearly as he did now.

Okay y'all... hopefully this doesn't show up all wonky on the site...but here's a taste...a lick off the ol spoon. I really wanted to keep this scene in...i just love it so much so hopefully it works. This isn't the full chapter...I'll add the rest of what I got after some feedback lol.

Please let me know what you think...open to suggestions...

be harsh....okay not too harsh...I'll cry 😭

[poliwhirl42]

As per usual, I love imagining Pokémon characters in scenarios I find myself in, so naturally I’ve thought about aged-up Best Wishes characters going on vacation to a tropical island resort together. Here’s the Unova crew’s drink orders at the swim-up bar:

Ash - a Mudslide. He said “get me whatever tastes the least like alcohol” so essentially a delicious chocolate milkshake-based drink is totally his vibe. Until he likes it so much that he has like four more and it fucks him up later.

Iris - a Malibu Bay Breeze. Iris loves anything sweet and fruity with just a hint of tang so this is perfect for her!

Cilan - a Mojito. Light and refreshing with a hint of flavor in the gin, lime and mint. It’s definitely his speed.

Trip - an Aperol Spritz. Classy as hell but not overly complicated either. Of course, “camera drinks first” - he needs to get an aesthetic picture amongst the tropical beach backdrop before taking a sip.

Bianca - a classic Piña Colada. Like Ash, I can’t see Bianca liking drinks that are overly strong, so this coconut-y treat is just right and fits her sometimes nutty personality (I say this with the utmost affection).

Stephan - a Strawberry Daiquiri! Stephan takes full advantage of the fitness center and athletic facilities at the resort, so naturally he’s gonna want something refreshing and frosty to cool off.

Georgia - a classic Margarita. Georgia is 100% a tequila girlie and the sourness of this drink goes perfectly with her snarky personality.

Burgundy - Sangria! Of course I had to incorporate wine somehow for my favorite connoisseuse, so a nice iced (red) sangria with fruit is definitely her vibe. She makes sure to flaunt her drink, in its fancy glass, around Cilan so that he’s aware of how “classy” she is, and then makes a snide remark about how his mojito is a “predictable choice”.

Cameron - a Blue Hawaiian! The vivid blue of this drink matches Cameron’s eyes and I think he’d be mesmerized so much by the color and little paper umbrella it comes with that he just has to try it out. He later regrets it when he has like three and is puking blue all night in his shared hotel room with Stephan, Trip and Virgil.

Virgil - a Mai Tai. Similar to Trip, this drink is classy, simple, but just as flavorful. I don’t really have an eloquent description or explanation of why this fits Virgil, it just does.

Luke - a Vodka Martini. Luke doesn’t know much about alcohol but wants whatever iconic drinks he sees in his favorite movies. So naturally, channeling his inner James Bond (or whatever Poké-equivalent), he smirks, glasses glinting, and orders a vodka martini- “shaken, not stirred”- while the rest of the gang stares at him, dumbfounded. It’s not until he takes a single sip and coughs violently that Ash smiles sympathetically before ordering his friend a Mudslide to wash it down with.

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Nowhere Else to Go

Remus turns up at Roman's doorstep after disappearing five years previous, left with almost nothing after his relationship ended in traged.

Roman stared dumbfounded at his twin, who stood tear-stained and battered on his door step.

"I didn't know where else to go." Remus croaked helplessly, lightly bouncing the baby his arms.

"Roman?" A voice called from deeper in the apartment. A tall man wearing black rimmed glasses appeared behind him. "Roman, who's- Oh." He went still. "Is that-"

Remus glanced between the two. "I- I'm sorry. I- I should- I should leave. I'm sorry-"

Roman caught his shoulder as he turned to walk away. Remus instinctively jerked away, raising an arm to protect the child in his arms. Roman let him go.

"What happened to you?" Roman finally spoke.

"I-it's a long story," Remus mumbled.

"Come inside. Do you have a bag?"

Remus nodded. "In the car."

"Okay, let's get that and get you and...?"

"Virgil," Remus filled in.

Roman nodded. "Let's get you inside."

"Let me help." The stranger Remus had seen before took one of the bags from Roman.

"Thanks." Roman closed and bolted the door behind him. "Uh, Logan this is my brother Remus and...I guess my nephew, Virgil. Rem, this is Logan."

"Nice to meet you," Logan offered a smile.

Virgil blew a raspberry, drawing a small smile from Remus. "You too," Remus replied.

"Have you eaten recently?" Roman asked and ushered Remus into the living room.

"Uh. At lunch?"

"I'll go find something to heat up," Logan offered.

"Thanks." Roman gestured to the couch and the brothers sat together. For a moment he watched Virgil contentedly gnaw on ring of plastic keys and bounce on Remus's anxiously moving leg. "I don't even know where to start... How old is he?"

"Eighteen months," Remus answered.

"What about?..." The question hung in the air a moment.

Remus swallowed and shook his head. "She's gone. She, uh," he let out a slow breath. "There was an accident. She was drunk. Hit a pole."

"Were you-"

Remus shook his head. "We weren't with her."

"Then what happened? I mean you've got a pretty good cut on your cheek."

"I tried to keep the keys from her this morning."

Roman's face fell. "Oh no... Oh, don't tell me-"

"She didn't used to," Remus cut in. "It wasn't til after Virgil was born that things got bad. I don't know what happened."

Roman shook his head. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"I'm the one who took off. I didn't mean to stay gone, but- I mean, I was angry, but I wasn't that angry. I went to call you, but she'd deleted your number and I- I didn't know what to do. And then we had Virgil and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to come sooner, I did, but I- she wouldn't let me. She said she'd hurt herself and Virgil if I left. I didn't know what to do. I didn't mean to stay gone, Ro, I swear, I didn't."

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault," Roman assured, resting a hand on Remus's back. "You're home now, that's what's important. You're home and you're safe. And so is Virgil."

Remus nodded, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. "Thanks, Ro."

Roman pulled Remus sideways into his arms. "Anything for family."

"Sorry. Um, speaking of which," Logan cut in as he came into the room. "I just got a call from Patton, he just got off work at the restaurant and his car won't start. I need to go pick him." He set down a tray with a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a second bowl of cut up strawberries, and a glass of water. "The strawberries should be small enough for Virgil to handle, provided he doesn't have any allergies."

"Thank you," Remus answered thickly. He cleared his throat. "If- if you want I can take a look at the car?" He offered. "Um. I can't do much, I, uh, I dropped out before I got my certs, but I can take a look."

"I would appreciate that. Maybe we can meet up after you've had time to settle in."

Roman stood. "Let me walk you out."

Remus watched the two walk away before plucking a piece of strawberry from the bowl and offering it Virgil, who stared at it with wide eyes.

"Yeah, I know. Been a hot minute since you've had one of these, huh?"

He grabbed a hold of Remus's hand with both his own hands and brought his mouth down around it, nipping Remus's fingertips in the process.

"Hey!" Remus laughed. "Not supposed to eat me, ya punk."

"Peash?" Virgil asked after the first piece of fruit was gone.

"Sure thing, kid. Do me a favor and put it in your own mouth this time, huh?" He put a piece near Virgil’s hand and he grabbed it with his whole hand and tried putting it in his mouth with his fist still closed around it.

Remus watched, amused, but wanting to give Virgil a minute to figure it out. Virgil tried twice more to put his whole fist in his mouth before opening his fingers and smacking the strawberry to his face. Remus smiled brightly and kissed his head. "There you got it. I'm gonna sit on the floor now and you gotta stay in my lap so I can eat too, alright?"

"Peash?" Virgil said again, and held out grabby hands. Remus handed him another piece of food and slid to the floor.

"Well, at least one of you has some manners."

Remus glanced up to find Roman leaned against the wall, watching them with a small smile.

"He's a cute kid, must take after his uncle."

Remus tried to smile. "Thanks." He offered Virgil a noodle and he took it eagerly. "Uh. C-could you bring his bag over?"

Roman set the bag next to Remus and took a seat on the couch again. "I could take him so you can eat, if you want," he offered when Remus began rummaging around the bag.

Remus shook his head and dropped a recieving blanket over their laps. "I already crashed your date-"

"It wasn't a date."

"I crashed your night, I don't wanna be more of a burden."

"You're not being a burden, Rem. I'm really happy to have you home, and before you even say anything about finding a place to stay, you've found it. Alright? As long as you need."

Remus shook his head agian. "I can't-"

"I'm offering-"

"Roman-"

"Remus-"

"I have a baby-"

"I can see that. I still want you to stay. I want you both to stay. I have a spare room you can use, so don't worry about it. I have room."

"It's more than just having room!" Remus snapped.

"Hey." Roman crouched next to his brother. "I know. It means noise and mess and a bunch of other things than I'm sure will surprise me. But I don't care. I want my brother back. And I get it, you just got out of a bad place, it's gonna take some time for you to settle. That's okay. You're safe now, Rem. I wanna help you stay that way.."

Remus nodded and handed Virgil another bite of fruit in answer to his repeated "Peash?" He kissed the tot's head, and tried to blink back the pesky tears that wouldn't seem to leave him alone. "Thanks, Ro."

Roman smiled tousled Remus's hair. "That's what I'm here for. Go ahead and eat now, we can talk more later."

[brandstifter-sys]

A Misunderstanding

Word Count: 2741 (Ao3)

Rating: T+

Characters: Remus, Roman, Virgil

Relationships: Dukexiety, Creativitwins, platonic prinxiety

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mild gore, innuendo, panic attacks, remus angst

Remus is convinced that Virgil hates him. Roman is tired of hearing about it, and gets to the bottom of things. And Virgil, well he's been desperate to keep a secret for a while, but he might be willing to share a little...

(Inspired by this post before it flew off the rails)

---

Anxiety. That was Virgil’s specialty, whether he was feeling it or causing it in others. So naturally it made sense that Remus would feel anxious about Virgil at least sometimes. 

Roman, however, could not afford to handle Remus' personal woes while he was trying to work. The flood of all the horrible ways Virgil could kill him or abandon him was far too much for one prince. 

“Stop lurking and tell me what you expect me to do about this—I can only listen to your rambling for so long!” he huffed and set his quill in the inkwell on his desk. He then spun to face his bed with the taste of strawberries ghosting over his taste buds. 

“I don't know!” Remus whined and appeared, flopping on the royal sheets, “I'm not trying to think about how he hates me! If I were, you know I'd be thinking about his ass too!” 

“He does have an impressive posterior,” Roman mused before shaking off any of his own lewd imaginings. If Remus could project his thoughts, there was a chance Roman could too.

“Exactly! Which is how you know l’m not trying to think this stuff!” Remus groaned and rolled on his back. 

“Why are you thinking these things? Surely there's some root cause,” Roman sighed. 

“Probably because I scared him really bad a couple years ago. I didn't think it was scary, I just thought it was funny to see how grossed out my fun ideas made everyone.” 

“You were obnoxious back then—I still have nightmares about the talent leeches crawling in my ears!” 

“I'm still obnoxious!” Remus laughed and sat up, “I wish that was the reason he hates me instead!” 

Roman blinked owlishly at him. As the romantic side, he could always tell when someone had strong feelings for someone. He could practically taste the palpable energies in the air. Virgil’s hatred was akin to old gas station coffee, and he used to think he was the one who made that taste the strongest, at least until he saw Virgil interacting with Janus. Not even once did he get that taste when Virgil interacted with Remus. 

“You think he hates you?” 

“Duh! You didn't see his face when I shared my brilliant idea!” Remus pouted. 

“What was the idea?” 

“Basically me getting wrapped up in a spider web and then getting sliced into cute little duke chops when the webs got too tight. Oh! And then a giant spider ate me! It was so ridiculously cartoonish, I figured it wouldn't be too bad! There wasn't even any blood!” 

“And you think that—out of all of the horrors you've shared—that is what he hates you for?” 

“Well I don't share them willingly anymore, so yes, and I don't make it any better! I try to keep it in and it doesn't work!” 

“You actually try to keep those thoughts to yourself?” Roman scoffed incredulously and rose from his chair. His script would have to wait, and soon, so would Remus. 

“You might not believe it because I share with you all the time, but you can poke around in here whenever you want, so I have no problem putting it out there!” Remus retorted and sat up. 

“Then let me poke around before my appointment shows up,” Roman said and sat next to him. 

“You might not like what you find!” Remus teased but let Roman grab his hand. They immediately fell into a trance. 

Sifting through his brother's cluttered mind was often a challenge for Roman, but the memory he wanted was at the top of Remus' mind. Once he found it, he could see everything. 

He found himself looking through Remus' eyes in the common area. He was hiding behind the couch, waiting to strike. Roman could taste Red Bull Blue Edition in the air. He knew that taste was Virgil's platonic appreciation. So he was nearby. 

Remus screeched and jumped from his hiding spot, startling Virgil so badly that he leapt back into the wall. 

“Dude what the fuck?!” Virgil yelped, his voice distorted by the memory. 

“Check this out!” Remus laughed and projected his intrusive thoughts onto Virgil. Roman opted to avoid that part of the memory. The description was more than enough. 

Remus was cackling like a hyena as he released some of his stress. Roman could see the horror taking over Virgil’s face, the blanched skin, the wide eyes, the obvious jump in his heart rate showing in his neck. 

But the taste that he got was far from Red Bull Blue Edition or old gas station coffee. Roman swore it was Monster energy drink. And it became stronger as Remus' laughter died down. 

Remus couldn't taste it, all he could see was the horror etched onto Virgil’s face. This poor idiot had no idea.

Roman came out of his trance and let go of his brother’s hand. Remus looked miserable, slouching and more tired than a moment before. 

“I have to go,” Remus sighed, “I have to feed Winnie, Sarah, and Mary.” Roman said nothing as he sank out. If he needed some time alone, Roman could respect that. 

Plus he was going to ask Remus if leave. He was expecting company. 

And who should show up at that exact moment? 

Roman could taste Red Bull Blue Edition before there was a knock on his door. That was Virgil, of course. He skipped over to let his guest in for their movie night. 

“Ah, Virgil, come in!” he said as he opened the door. Virgil was just standing there with his hands in his hoodie pockets. 

“Is it just you in there?” Virgil asked and stared through Roman, daring him to lie. 

“Yes, Remus just left.” 

Virgil tensed but followed Roman inside, sitting on his bed. He was uncomfortable, more so than usual, as he watched Roman set up the TV. 

“How can you stand having him in your room?” Virgil finally asked, with as much bitterness as he could muster. Roman swore he tasted Monster. 

“He barges in so often I got used to it. As long as he doesn't make a mess it's manageable,” he shrugged, “It's just what brothers do.” 

“But what if he does that thing with your thoughts?” Virgil persisted. Roman glanced over his shoulder and studied Virgil. The man was chewing his thumbnail and curled into himself. Perhaps it was a slip of the tongue, since he and Remus kept their connection a secret. 

“Well, if it's on purpose, we fight. A proper duel. He can't always help himself from projecting his thoughts onto others.” 

Virgil stared at him for a moment, processing his words. Roman finished setting up, oblivious to his confusion. Only when he sat beside his guest did he see that they weren't on the same page. 

“No I meant when he reads your mind and forces you to confront it,” Virgil muttered shyly as the opening credits to Alice in Wonderland played. 

“Remus can't read minds, Virgil. He can't literally get into your head and mess around.” 

Virgil shifted uncomfortably and stared at the screen. Roman knew he was thinking hard about something, something about Remus. 

Roman knew better than to interrupt Virgil’s musings, at least not when he was calm. And he had to watch his movie! 

It was just after Alice got away from the caterpillar that either one spoke. 

“Do you hate him?” Roman asked Virgil, pulling him from his trance. 

“What?” 

“Do you hate Remus?” he repeated, already aware that Virgil didn't. 

“No? You know what my hate looks like.” 

“Then you avoid him because you think he can read your mind?” 

“Exactly. He did it before and I don't want him to do it again.” 

“Virgil, he cannot read your mind. Remus has no idea what you're thinking. In fact, he is convinced that you hate him.” 

“But I don't. I don't hate Remus,” Virgil huffed and curled into himself. 

Roman could taste a hint of Monster in the air. He could see the faint blush under that white foundation. And then it clicked like a dislocated bone getting reset. 

“Then tell him that. I can tell when someone is in love or loathing and he doesn't believe me!” Roman groaned and flopped on his back. 

EEP

Roman let out a manly squeal and Virgil yanked him up by the shirt collar. 

“What did you tell him?!” Virgil barked, his eye shadow turning as black as pitch and his eyes blazing with rage. 

“That you don't hate him!” Roman retorted and pushed him away, “I know what your hate tastes like and I know you don't hate him! What more is there to tell?” 

Virgil let go of his shirt and blanched. 

“You like him,” Roman muttered, “Don't you?” 

Virgil stayed silent and unnervingly still.

“I swear on my beloved sword that I won't tell anyone, and I won't tell anyone if you decide to clarify.” 

“I—uh—” Virgil hesitated and squirmed towards the edge of the bed, ready to make a quick escape. 

“You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,” Roman added. 

“I like him, a lot. And that's terrifying.” 

“It is. But it can be exhilarating if you give it a chance,” Roman agreed, “As long as you don't let that fear control you.”

Virgil visibly relaxed and shook his head. 

“So he can't read my mind, and he thinks I hate him. Fuck, I have to be the one to fix it.” 

“Should I pause the movie and we finish it next week?” Roman suggested, all too aware that this would eat away at Virgil for a while. 

“Yeah. I'll talk to him soon, after I—” his spine went rigid and his irises flashed violet, “—shit.” 

Roman watched him vanish in a puff of wispy black smoke. Someone was having a rather anxious time and Roman would not get in the way of Anxiety stepping in before it got bad. 

---

Remus kept his room clean and orderly because he couldn't do the same with his head. But as he lay on his bed, Remus couldn't stop the chaos from leaking out. 

The misty figures flitting in and out of sight were agony incarnate. Dozens of his own corpses littered the floor and reanimated themselves to play back their gruesome deaths over and over. And then causes were all the same, even if the methods weren't—different versions of Virgil, pissed off and sickeningly satisfied with the bloodshed. 

Remus curled into a fetal position and squeezed his eyes shut. He could still see everything that was happening. He couldn't escape. 

Why did Roman have to look at that memory? It was like pulling a cork on a sinking boat, and Remus was drowning. 

Virgil hated him. It was all his own fault! He had to live with that while his heart yearned for that edgy snack. Was he so vile and fucked up that the universe wanted him to suffer? Wasn't it enough that he lost his best friend? Why did his chaotic ass have to catch feelings for the one person who despised him? 

If Virgil knew, there was no doubt in Remus' mind, that he would torture Remus and kill him, without any of the fun stuff. 

Remus trembled as the visions and thoughts got louder, clearer. He was gasping for breath, praying for his heart to slow enough for him to sleep through these waking night terrors. 

“This doesn't look like the BDSM you're into.” 

Remus' eyes shot open. That voice couldn't be real but he knew it wasn't imaginary. 

Virgil, the real Virgil, was approaching him, walking through the mist and clearing it like some sort of fallen angel. 

Remus swore he hadn't been crying before Virgil arrived and yet his cheeks were wet. Did he accidentally summon him with his own anxiety? 

“Hey,” Virgil said and knelt by him, “You're okay, you're safe.” Remus sniffled as Virgil thumbed away his tears. 

“You don't have to stay,” he muttered and closed his eyes. Virgil could leave and bleach his mind to forget everything he saw. And he wouldn't have any excuse to enjoy Remus' suffering with that escape. 

“I want to,” Virgil said softly, “Let's get you calmed down, alright?” 

Remus dared look at him, expecting all the smugness in the world to be plastered on that face. He was surprised to see the apologetic half-smile and worried brow framing those tired, sad eyes. 

“Just breathe with me, follow my lead.* 

Remus followed Virgil's steady rhythm. In and out, like the tides. His visions faded, even if they didn't disappear. The screams and agonized wails quieted, though they weren't snuffed out. 

“That's it, you're doing good,” Virgil hummed and placed a hand on the duke’s side. 

“Why—Why are you being so nice to me?” Remus hiccuped. 

“Because you're having a panic attack,” Virgil said softly, “And I'm tired of running.” 

“What?” 

“I’m tired of running. And Roman told me something that made it easier to stop.”’

“What did he tell you? That I'm pathetic enough to beat down without poisoning you?” Remus sighed. He was too exhausted to bring back his bubbly attitude. He was doing his best to keep from getting gruesome, if only so he wouldn't fall back into panic. 

“No, he might be that mean to your face, but he's not that cruel,” Virgil sighed and gently rubbed Remus' side. 

“He told me you can't read minds.” 

“You thought I could read minds?” Remus gawked, “What gave you that idea?” 

Virgil took a deep breath and swallowed his fears. Remus deserved to know the truth, or at least part of it. 

“Do you remember a few years ago, when you jumped out and tried to scare me? I thought you got in my head and pulled out one of my darker thoughts,” Virgil admitted shyly, “I was surprised when you started laughing at the sight of your fileted body. I was scared that you could invade my mind.” 

Remus sat up and stared at Virgil. 

“You don't hate me?” he gawked. 

Virgil shook his head and sat next to him. Remus' heart thundered in his chest. Virgil never got this close before, and Remus couldn't be sure if this reaction was based off his feelings or the simple fact that Virgil was anxiety. 

“Believe it or not, I can't hate you. You're the only person I know who isn't scared of my thoughts. You might be annoying sometimes and I get frustrated but I don't hate you.” 

“Does that mean you like me?” Remus asked and leaned on his shoulder. 

“It doesn't mean that, but I like you,” Virgil admitted and wrapped an arm around him, “You’re exhausted.” 

“Mhm,” Remus nodded and closed his eyes, “Panicking makes me tired. How do you do it?” 

“I’m always tired,” he shrugged, “If you need to sleep I won't stop you.” 

“Can you stay with me? If I have a really bad dream I might drag you back anyway,” Remus muttered, already fading. 

Virgil smiled to himself and coaxed Remus to lie down again. He relaxed beside the tired menace and ran a hand through his skunky hair. 

“I'll be right here, Reek.” 

Remus giggled and hugged him, nuzzling his chest. This imp knew just how to keep him on edge! But this time, Virgil didn't mind. 

“I’m snuggling a Scare Bear!” he cooed, half aware of what he was saying, “You’re warm and comfy when you're not trying to kill me for crushing.” 

Virgil knew his eye shadow was sparkling purple even if he couldn't see it. Remus certainly couldn't, not when he was drifting off so peacefully. 

Virgil was almost sad Remus couldn't read his mind, at least in that moment. He had so many things jumbled in his head that he couldn't put into words. He was too elated to think, too overwhelmed to leave and scream into a pillow like some lovesick teenager. 

So instead, Virgil pressed his lips to Remus' forehead and pulled him closer. He could tell Remus the whole truth when they woke up.

.

.

Not long after the pair fell asleep in each other's arms, Roman decided to check in on his brother. 

He rose up and instantly gagged at the horrible flavor assaulting him. Cocktail sauce and Monster. The poor prince got one look at the sleeping gremlins and sank out. 

There wasn't enough mouthwash in the world to cleanse his pallet!

[live-laugh-loverpool]

what are the favorite foods of the lfc players in your hcs? :D

ALRIGHTY THEN!!!! this is gonna be one HELL of a long list (inhales and checks my fics)

edit: sorry it took so long! stuff came up...but here it is! (keep reading below the cut, it's a long one)

SECOND EDIT: MO HOW COULD I MISS MO?!

Virgil will jump over a canyon for caramel in any form, but especially salted caramel. He tried to hide his sweet tooth when he first arrived, but it didn't take much time for everybody to notice.

Robbo? Cookies. Oatmeal, shortbread, chocolate chip, Jammy Dodgers, you name it. After that comes tomato soup. And don't forget the Irn Bru on the side!

Robbo and Trentski are both nacho aficionados (and they love to use it to drive Milly and Virg insane)

"RI-BEE-NER" (Milly and his Ribena are inseparable)

Ali and Bobby both love chocolate. Like, to superhuman levels. That's all I'll say...

or NOT! it's a shared passion of theirs, especially hot chocolate and brigadeiros.

Bobby also likes lemon-flavored stuff, especially hard candies

Darwin loves churros and will eat them like no tomorrow (as you might've seen for yourself in one of my fics). and of COURSE mate

in fact, most of the Latino Reds are mate aficionados. Robbo tried to drink it once and swore never to go near it again

Lexi likes cake doughnuts, especially Irn Bru flavored ones. This is where he and Robbo get along

actually Robbo just loves food

the boss has one of the biggest sweet tooths in the squad! anything sweet is a loud "JAAAA" from him. but especially gingerbread, chocolate and strawberry

Pep? Coffee, any day, any night. i know this is supposed to be food, but pep drinks so much coffee in a day that one could consider it food. He also loves maple cinnamon (snickerdoodle) cookies

Lucho will eat as many polvorosas as he can fit into his stomach. Same goes for arepas, except if they're stuffed with refried beans.

Rule of Life No. 1: Do not get between Bobby Firmino and his empanadas. Just don't

Lucho and Harvey have an "ice cream ceremony" involving Neapolitan brick ice cream and caramel sauce. It's best not to mention this to the boss, or he will scream.

Adrian loves paella. He will cook it, eat it, study it, everything. Lucho also likes paella, but to a lesser extent

Pastries and Mo are a match made in heaven. It doesn't matter of they're sweet or savory, he loves them. He also loves coffee, and he's grown to like Robbo's Jammy Dodgers

@alissonbear-ker @ali-becker @bobbyfirminosworld @millythegoat @liverpool-enjoyer @dsenotmtaetr @snuuysideup you might want to check this out too

[lordkingsmith]

wip wednesday (I promise, promise, promise I am limiting my wants to 3): 6) Cursed; a power rangers fic, about the psycho rangers and the what if scenario of Daniel O’Halloran going from Trek’s enemy and murder victim to personal grid ghost of character development to psycho silver and ally to Trek’s lover. I’m currently animating the kid I came up with writing chapter two. Third and final chapter will be fun to do. Won’t introduce Dusk but it will set up how they get to being his parents

lol you can ask about all of them says the man planning to do several of yours I don’t mind. If you’d like a bonus, I’ll do saltwater spoons for this one too 💖💖

One of the songs on Trek and Daniel’s YouTube playlist. Given how in the fic I accidentally made strawberries and summer the most important things Daniel let’s himself miss when he’s dead, strawberry sugar high feels like a fitting song for the two. Especially with Trek trying to describe what he wants with Daniel. Trek never went to earth. He was never meant to be on earth, just the moon, and that’s fine. Daniel got him curious, and Trek knows Daniel’s memories are biased. But he wants to fall in love with everything Daniel loves. It’s easier to couch that in “I want to taste strawberries, I want to experience summer, I want to see if they suck” instead of “show me everything you’re in love with so I can love it too”

Due to family dynamic schtick Daniel is sometimes referred to as “brother in law” by the other psychos, even before he and Trek got together. Yellow and Axe had a running bet who he’d get with, Virgil or Trek. Trek felt obvious but Axe figured the psycho gimmick of mimicking teams and team dynamics might cause Daniel and Virgil to mimic Andros and Zhane. It didn’t happen.

Bonus:

Saltwater Spoons was inspired by a very late night, too many cups of coffee and the song salt skin by Zellie Goulding. Mental image was a prince coercing a pirate to help him kill his sister and frame her bodyguard so prince could take the throne with the pirate at his side.

Turned out the story wasn’t about the prince it was about the bodyguard going to find the only person who could end the prince’s reign of terror; a person who can change fresh water to salt and salt water to fresh water. Fact it kind of clicked eight years after the initial idea with writing Hollyhock of all things is more than a little funny to me. Poor Brill was thought up for a chosen one fic and he’s pretty much chosen one by trauma and kidnapping by love interest. No worries, they work it out lol.

[kopitanis]

Kopitanis is in touch.

I continue to talk about the characters of Detective!AU based on the game DmC: Devil may cry. And it was Kat's turn (My favorite girl (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~).

A young girl, 17 years old, a medium, Virgil’s adopted younger sister (according to documents, he is her guardian). She is a rather quiet and calm girl who secretly dreams of joining a gang and breaking the law. Of course, Virgil does not approve of this and tries with all his might to protect it, but too often he goes beyond all limits. The guy does not allow her to communicate with “bad” people. He is always in control, completely unaware of how unpleasant this is for the girl herself. Yes, she loves her brother and is grateful that he saved her, but his behavior is too intrusive.

And one day, she can’t stand it anymore, running away from home to the “Paradise” club. (But this is a completely different story... I will make a separate post about this)

At about 7-8 years old, the girl realized that she had some unusual abilities. She saw what others did not see, considering it the norm. Spirits of people who did not die of natural causes. Animals hit by a truck on the highway. And terrible, distorted creatures hidden behind the guise of a person. Demons - that’s what she called those whose souls were rotten to the core. And her father was precisely the Demon who mocked her from an early age. (I'll write more about this later).

Data:

•Kat wants a Doberman, but for now, she doesn’t have enough time to look after him.

•She loves sodas very much, especially the ones with strawberry and blueberry flavors.

•Hates the smell of cigarettes.

•Due to the fact that she sees spirits, awkward situations often happen to her, because she does not distinguish this world from the afterlife.

•When she has nightmares, Kat comes to her brother’s room and sleeps with him. That's why Virgil's room is always slightly open so that she doesn't wake him up with the click of the lock.

[gumnut-logic]

“On the surface, Gordon Tracy is a simple man. A sunny smile, always likes a joke, give him a body of water and you can lose him in it.

“Any body of water.

“I once lost him in the bath.

“Though, you could probably relate that back to point number two and the liking a joke thing.

“Yes, Gordon is a simple man.

“On the surface.

“But only on the surface, because really, he is anything but.

“Meeting that smile under those laughing brown eyes and strawberry blond hair, you could be forgiven for thinking he is a joker out to make fun. You could miss the assessing eyes, the grace with which he walks, the hidden tells of experience and trial. You can’t see the scars; you can’t see the knowledge or the training.

“You could shake his hand and share that laugh and not know how many times that hand has reached out to grab another, to offer another chance, to save a life. You’ve never watched it dance across a control panel leagues under the ocean surface in the dark. You’ve never seen it push down on a ribcage to keep a heart beating.

“You’ve never seen it gently cup a handful of seawater to save a tiny fish caught in a drying rock pool.

“If you shared that joke, you would not know its history and how such jokes kept him from the edge during some of his darkest days.

“You could know of his brothers and the billions, of International Rescue, the Olympic Gold Medal, the party scene he played for all of six months in his teens. You may even know of his military career with WASP.

“But you won’t know Gordon.

“Because the laughter and the jokes? They are only his facade, a method to cope, a philosophy to guide his life. They are a reason to laugh rather than cry.

“Underneath there is a man of great feeling, a young mind full of wonder that has been slapped back so many times that now getting back up is the default.

“You could look at him and think ‘a billionaire, what does he have to worry about?’ But really, it only takes one life changing disaster to crush a man. Gordon has faced so many more.

“He has four brothers, a sister and a grandmother all of which it is obvious he cherishes deeply. He has friends and heroes and a growing love that needs nurturing like a flickering flame. But he is ever aware that these things are temporary, that they can be taken away suddenly and irrevocably. He has seen the glassiness of death and faced down the reaper himself.

“So.

“The laughter.

“The dye in the shampoo.

“The pillow in the pool.

“The itching powder on the bath towel.

“The hell let loose on April Fool’s Day every damn year.

“They are but a symptom of the man you are facing, and yet so why you are going to regret what you are doing.”

Virgil blinked and as if on cue, his brother stepped out of the shadows behind Virgil’s tormentor and, with a move Kayo would have applauded, wrenched his arm behind his back, took his knees out from under him and pinned him to the floor. Another blink and the man was restrained and gagged.

A pair of russet brown eyes swam into his vision, dark in the sharp shadows of the harsh lamp light. “Hey, Virg, that was some speech. Who knew you could be so eloquent under pressure.”

“He’s strong. He’s going to kick your ass.”

“Hey, hey, Virgil. I’m Gordon, remember? The joker guy you said was going to save your ass.” There were fingers fiddling with his restraints. “C’mon, we gotta get you out of here. Won’t be long before they discover I escaped.”

“Don’t underestimate my brother. He’s funny, but he’s so much more.”

“In any other circumstances, I’d be lapping this up, but Virgil, we need to get you onto your feet. I’m strong, but not strong enough for your heavy lifting. C’mon, up you get.” He was being pulled up. His body creaked.

“Gordon is going to come. You’re going to regret it.”

“Yes, yes, help me here, Virgil. I did come. I’m here. It is time to go.”

“You’re going to regret it.”

“Okay, arm over my shoulder, we gotta move!” A grunt. “What the hell did they give you?! Some kind of truth serum?”

“You want to know the truth?” Oooh, the world was wobbling. “Gordon can be scary. You’re going to regret it so much.”

“Ah, yeah, you’ve mentioned that, Virgil. Um, you’re going to have to be quiet for a bit. We have to sneak past some bad guys.”

“Bad guys want to hurt Gordon. Can’t let them hurt Gordon. Tried to kick their asses, but I’m not like Gordon or Scott, couldn’t do it. Too many. Now they want to hurt Gordon. Can’t let them hurt him. No, no, can’t...”

“Shit. Virgil, shhh! Just be quiet for a minute, please.”

Quiet. He blinked. Augh, the world was even wobblier. Gordon was coming. Gordon was coming. “Can’t let them hurt Gordon-“ There was suddenly a hand over his mouth. He panicked and struggled. A muffled yell and he found himself falling, the world spinning until his head hit something hard and he saw stars.

The world became only sound from then on. Voices, more yelling, the thud of flesh hitting flesh, a gunshot. Virgil jumped at its sharp crack. Someone swore. A snap that could only be bone. A thud and then silence.

The world began to drift away.

“Virgil?! You with me? C’mon, bro, please.”

A slow blink. Blurry images. “Gordon?”

“Yes. You with me?”

“Knew you would come. Kick their ass.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.” A sigh. “Can you stand?”

Another slow blink. “Don’t mess with my brother, he’ll kick your ass.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe.” Gordon was tugging on his arm, so Virgil tried to stand. Woah. The whole world tipped on its edge and swung him around. “Shit!”

“Sorry, bro, but we gotta move now. You can throw up on my shoes later.” And then he was in motion.

The blurs burred together. He squeezed his face shut and clung to the man holding him, desperate for it all to stop.

Make it stop.

“Not much longer, Virgil, I promise.” It was little more than a whisper.

Another stomach churning drag across a blurry room and suddenly everything went green.

Oh.

Oh.

He knew that green. That smell. Oh, his beautiful ‘bird.

“Sit here.” He was being lowered onto a hard surface. “I’ll be back in a moment.” And Gordon was gone.

Gone.

“Gordon?”

A yell, followed by a scream and a thud. A litany of curses he didn’t know his brother even knew.

“Gordon?”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Hands on his. “We’re okay, but we need to be fast.” He was pulled up again, his arm wrapped around shoulders and they were moving.

He lost a moment only to find himself sitting in a chair. A familiar chair with a familiar roar building in his bones. “Two.”

“Yeah, Virg, we’re on your ‘bird. Hang tight, because I’m afraid I might have to scratch her paintwork.”

“You wouldn’t do that. We only joke about it.”

“Well, I’m not in a joking mood right now.” The sound that followed that statement cut through the roar.

Her laser. He was using her laser.

He forced his eyes open and yes, he could see the red glow through the blur. “What are you doing?”

“Cutting our way out of here.”

“Where?”

“They stole your ‘bird, Virg. Remember?”

Voices on the edge of his hearing. Yelling. Another gunshot. Men.

It had been a trap and they had been caught and Virgil had been separated from his brother. His little brother. Please don’t hurt his brother. Please!

“It’s okay, we’re escaping. Another five seconds. Hang in there, Virgil.”

But Gordon was strong. He would kick their asses.

Oh god, please don’t hurt him. Please don’t. I tried. I really tried. Not enough. Not enough. Please don’t hurt him.

A loud crash and his body was shoved back into the seat. His head spun again.

His Thunderbird roared. Her rear thrusters kicked in and sung in his bones. His body lifted from the Earth and tore into the sky.

He let out a gasp, the sudden familiarity heart-stopping.

“Thunderbird Five, you there?”

“Gordon! Thank, God. What happened?”

“Brief you shortly. I need to get Virgil to a hospital, but first I want to put some distance between us and the bastards who hurt him. Please advise Wellington that we will be...”

His brother’s voice faded out, taken by the blur and the hissing of blood in his ears.

-o-o-o-

“C’mon, Virgil, I know you’re in there. Time to wake up.”

What?

“Viiiiirgiiiiil.” Gordon. It was Gordon and he was singing his name.

Ugh.

He shoved his eyes open and glared at his brother. “What?!”

“Ooh, welcome back to the land of the living. Nice entrance.”

“Gordon, what the hell? Let me sleep.”

“Nope.” His lips popped on the ‘p’.

Virgil’s eyes closed a moment and it took him a second to realise they had. He shoved them open again.

Ceiling tiles.

He was in hospital.

“Why am I in hospital?” He searched his slowly booting brain, but found no recollection of injury other than...

He sat up in bed. “It was a trap! They stole my-“ And the world caught up with him and whacked him around the head.

Two sets of hands caught him as he fell back towards the pillow. “Shit.”

“Take it easy, Virgil, you’ve been through quite a bit.”

His body sunk into the bed. Scott. Thank god. So happy to hear his brother’s voice.

He frowned. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“Callout. Central Texas. Gas explosion. No fly zone. It was a trap. Nabbed me. Nabbed Gordon. Wanted Two...” He frowned. “Gets fuzzy. A fight. I lost?”

“We think so. You have quite a lot of bruising, a couple of cracked ribs and two head injuries.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, and you also had a bloodstream full of some nasty chemicals. They drugged you pretty bad. Took the doctors some time to identify with exactly what. You’ve been mostly out of it for a couple of days.”

“Days?!”

“You were unconscious for most of it.”

A frown. “Most of it?” He didn’t remember any of it.

“Yeah.”

He eyed his eldest brother and was somewhat unnerved by the fact he wasn’t keeping eye contact. “What did I do?”

“Nothing of importance.”

“Like what?”

“There was some delirium. Look, Virg, you were ill. Don’t worry about it.”

He stared at his brother a moment longer. Perhaps not knowing was a good thing, but then...perhaps he could third degree his brother later when he had more stamina.

“How did we get out?”

Scott nodded in Gordon’s direction. “Gordon got you out. Five couldn’t find you. They had tech enough to baffle our sensors.” And it was obvious that Scott hated that with a passion.

Virgil turned to his younger brother. “You got us out? How?”

“Oh, with my wily skillz and sense of humour.” Gordon grinned at him.

Virgil’s lips thinned. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me, or that I should nag you until you do?”

“Have at it, big bro, and we’ll see how it slides.”

Augh. He so did not have the energy for this. “Gordon!”

“Yessssh, Massster?”

He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. “Fine. We will discuss it later.”

“Cool. I’ll bring snacks.”

A sigh and he opened his eyes to assess his little brother. “You okay?”

“Yep, just fine and dandy. You’re the one sporting all the bruises this time, bro. You’re the one who will have to be nagged to rest regularly, eat regularly and get tortured by Grandma’s home cooking.”

Virgil stared at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yepper doodles.”

“What?!”

“Virg, don’t you worry your little head about it. Just rest and take it easy.” A hand landed on his arm and squeezed gently.

He was still staring. “Scott, did he get checked over?”

“He’s fine, Virgil. Stop worrying.” A sigh. “He’s just being Gordon...and if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to kick his ass.”

Kick his ass.

Virgil blinked. “You got us out of there.”

“That I did.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, bro.” A grin split his little brother’s face, but something flickered in the depths of his eyes for just a second. Virgil frowned, but it was gone too quickly. Gordon’s grin took over everything.

“Anytime.”

-o-o-o-

[whatgaviiformes]

I continued it. Original Post

The room behind the door is bleak, entirely too muted and too quiet for the spitfire of sea and light normally resting within. He raps on the door one more time after opening it, just in case Gordon couldn’t hear, and the mass on the bed shifts under the blankets with a hiss.

Virgil winces. He nudges the door the rest of the way open and slides the food tray on the table beside the bed. The steam from the warm soup dances up towards the ceiling. Gordon’s appetite might be just fine, but Virgil figured it was better to go with safe options. It’s soup, saltines, and water. The lack of movement despite the aroma of chicken broth that fills the room gives him his answer.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Virgil asks.

He finds a spot to sit on the bed where Gordon’s feet are. As much as he wants to clasp his shoulder or rub his back and comfort through the throes of pain, when Gordon’s at his worst, it’s his ankle that’s furthest from the agony emanating through his nervous system.

“No.”

“Do you want me to talk, then?” Virgil offers. “I can if you want. Whatever you need.” The form trembles, but eventually Gordon pushes back the comforter just far enough past his face for Virgil to catch a glimpse of the muddled, honey-brown of his eyes.

He takes the curious gaze as permission to launch into whatever his mind conjures, knowing that his own interests will be enough of a distraction without reminding Gordon of what, at the moment, he can’t pursue outside the four walls of his bedroom. Virgil stays clear of the weather and the ocean and the pool, and instead rambles about the new song his favorite pianist has just released, an artist he’s following that’s been working with 3D sculptures made from scraps found in the trash mines, and his next character idea for the tabletop game John runs for the family.

Virgil settles himself more comfortably at the foot of Gordon’s bed as he talks. He’s going for casual ease, filling the silence with his own swirl of thoughts to replace what normally was Gordon’s chaotic energy and Gordon’s constant stream of consciousness. He doesn’t even know if Gordon’s really listening; even if only by half it’s something, but he’s been quiet.

Midway through his musings about the scale of acceptable types of berries, he feels the muscle under his hand tighten. Virgil sympathetically rubs circles into Gordon’s calf while he rides the wave. It sucks. It sucks more for Gordon, there’s no doubt, but there’s a special kind of helplessness and misery Virgil feels when his siblings are suffering and he can’t do anything about it.

It’s an instinct to hold his breath while he counts out the duration of the spasm.

Eventually the tension alleviates, and Virgil hops up to quickly scour the closet in Gordon’s connecting bathroom for a rag to wet. He warns him a few seconds before he touches his face since his eyes are scrunched shut, but gently Virgil dabs at the sweat on his forehead, cooling him down from the exertion of fighting through the tremors.

Gordon sighs deeply, watching him and tracking him through a glazed expression.

“-rzy,” Gordon tells him.  

“Hm?”

“Yer crazy,” Gordon clarifies, staggering through the words, “if you think blackberries are more acceptable than blueberries.”

“Strawberries are top tier. We can agree on that though?”

“Only with chocolate.”

It’s a non-argument, banter that’s only a debate on principle because, in truth, Virgil has no hard opinions on fruit and actually much prefers them mixed into a smoothie anyway. But he scrunches up his nose for effect.

“What’s better than strawberries?” he challenges, pulling the cloth away.

“Grapes.”

“Those are not berries.”

“They are botanically.”

“Well, botanically, you shouldn’t be ranking fruit based on the addition of chocolate.”

“False. Technically the cacao pod is a fruit too.”

“Hm, since we are on the subject,” Virgil prods, diverting the conversation back to more important matters, “you should try to eat.” He takes the package of the saltine crackers and rips the sleeve open, placing it on top of Gordon’s comforter where he can reach easily.

One, two are eaten, a third nibbled on.

“OK.”

Virgil lifts an eyebrow. “Ok?”

“Yeah, ok,” Gordon confirms. “Talk for real.”

“We got your scans back.” It had wrecked Virgil trying to get them; whatever agony Gordon felt had hit suddenly during his morning exercises. He remembered Gordon clutching at him: he’d been damp with chlorinated water, stuck in the shallow end, and any movement to get him to the infirmary shattered through him. The scanner had pinpointed his back, but it wasn’t strong enough to isolate the cause. He knew now. “You popped a screw.”

Gordon sucks in a breath but manages to smile. There’s no joy behind it. “I bet Alan loved that.”

“Huh?”

“You tell him I had a screw loose?”

“Oh. Oh no. Not at all. He’s worried, but no Alan doesn’t know anything yet. Yours to tell.”

Gordon hums, then says, “Such a little thing. It feels like it’s everywhere. Can you -uh- show me?”

Virgil’s reluctant, but carefully, he ghosts a fingertip in a circle along the ridge of Gordon’s spine where their scans showed the shifting pieces of metal. He doesn’t touch exactly where it is, trying as much as he can to avoid aggravating the injury further. It needs surgery. Gordon knows something like that needs surgery, which means hospitals and all the memories and terrors that come with it.

Virgil retracts his hand, but Gordon reaches for it. “You’ll be taking me.”

It’s not presented as a question. Virgil nods anyway.

[gummybugg]

🔥Character Names + Meanings: Crater City Edition!!!💥

Tagged by @rickie-the-storyteller (here) I think for a second time because that other time, I lost whatever I was working on tbh! But! I am back in the game baby!

Rules: Make a list of your main OCs and find out the meanings of their names. Then write down their definition and whether or not you think the definition fits their character.

Get ready for a doozy

...

Blair

Scottish surname derived from Gaelic blàr meaning “plain, field, battlefield”

Battlefield? Accurate. This could be related to his poor temper or relentless spunk. 

I personally chose this name because it gave passionate, fiery vibes. I also love gender neutral names/names whose “gender” changes over the course of time. 

I'm unsure if Blair chose this name for himself, but all I know is that it fit perfectly, I think!

Elijah

Hebrew name meaning “Jehovah is my God.”

This is ironic considering he is an atheist (the post-apocalypse will do that to a man)

Then why did I choose this name? Because the name sounded nice and gave off the color yellow and feels powerful. Elijah is a strong character who undergoes a lot of confidence-boosting changes in-story!

Darcy

Irish origin, meaning "dark one, or from Arcy, or from the fortress" or “dark-haired” or “descendant of the dark.” (muahahaha)

It’s funny how his name lines up with his personality without my awareness! (I am rubbing my hands together like an evil fly)

I really chose this name because I wanted a unique name (that once again is gender-neutral) for our multifaceted antagonist. Even his name gets on my nerves because I know how much of an asshole he is!

Frasier

Scottish/French roots; “Of the forest men; Strawberry; Strawberry plant.” Also that one guy from the show with the same name. 

I’m gonna be honest, I intentionally picked his name because it means “strawberry.” I just love the idea of fruit/flower names!

Strawberries can symbolize healing, passion, or love, which I think sums up his development in the story pretty well…Frasier is generally cordial and polite to those he doesn’t know too well…He goes through a lot of emotional moments...He also embroiders flowers that he visits on his breaks in a secret garden in city hall!

Melony

From Mélanie, the French form of the Latin name Melania, derived from Greek melaina meaning "black, dark".

Relevant because she has a dark past🎶+ covers up her trauma with sanrio and puffy stickers!

I chose this name because it reminds me of pink and cute things, which is a guise for that spooky mad-scientist thing she has going on (also, can’t a girl have a little fun? It’s the end of the world, after all)

Vestal

Roman, meaning “chaste or pure; of or relating to the Roman goddess Vesta.”

Well, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Like I said, I choose names because of their vibes. I just think “Vestal” sounds like a badass femme droid’s name. Am I wrong??

Virgil

Latin, meaning “flourishing, staff bearer.”

I chose this name because it gives off cool, chill, and teal-colored vibes. It also sounds like a great “partners in crime name” alongside Vestal’s name

Virgil is the calm and collected masc droid to complement Vestal’s rambunctious nature, so I think “staff bearer” fits. Flourishing could refer to the development he undergoes when learning to value [human] life more (though he is not mortal)

...

Lightly tagging @charlesjosephwrites @flock-from-the-void @winglesswriter @jay-avian @anulithots @twilightscribbles @celebratedloser (and whoever wants to give it a shot)

...

🚗crater city taglist (dm to be added/removed): @writeouswriter @lyra-brie @digitalsatyr23 @talesfromtheunknowable

[lovelylogans]

random distribution

The number π (/paɪ/; spelled out as "pi") is a mathematical constant that is the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter, approximately equal to 3.14159. It is a transcendental number, meaning that it cannot be a solution of an equation involving only sums, products, powers, and integers. The transcendence of π implies that it is impossible to solve the ancient challenge of squaring the circle with a compass and straightedge. The decimal digits of π appear to be randomly distributed, but no proof of this conjecture has been found.

ao3 | other fics on tumblr | coffee?

warnings: mentions of baking mishaps, let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: none, all platonic!

words: 2,152

notes: hi, all! i wrote this for the tss fanworks collective discord january remix challenge; i took @edupunkn00b’s fic 3.14159265 ... and had some fun writing some fluff for it! thank u to @teacupfulofstarshine for the “patriarchy” pun in here! edu, i hope you enjoy it!

⁂

Pi day, in Patton’s mind, has reached transcendental levels of importance.

Previously, the attention he’d paid it had been potential for puns and potential for pies—both matters near and dear to his heart, of course, and an opportunity for great, low-effort fun.

Say what you will about Patton’s endeavors today: they certainly cannot be called low-effort.

He’s done research on best crusts to pair with each flavor profile. He’s gotten deep into baking blogs’ pros and cons of blind bakes. He’s hauled enough flour, sugar, and jam into the cupboards to best maintain a surprise to pass as workouts for a full week. Those bags of flour are not Eton mess-ing around!

He even, in a move that he thinks would make Logan particularly proud, made a spreadsheet to list out all the baking timings and when he needs to start each pie.

Because while he is doing this to make sure Logan feels heard, he also wants to take the particular recent incident to heart; he wants to make sure they all feel heard. And, while Pi Day is definitely skewed in Logan’s favor, he can’t help but throw in a few gestures for the rest of his favorite guys.

So that means boo-berry pie for Virgil, and strawberry rhubarb pie for Roman, a good ol’ apple pie for Thomas, and an interesting recipe he’d found when he’d gotten sidetracked on the blogs; a lemon meringue galette sounds just about perfect for Janus.

And that means, though the flavor definitely isn’t within Patton’s particular profile—ugh!—haggis for Remus.

(What are tatties?! What are neeps?! Where is he meant to get groundnut oil??? What is the proper measurement for a dram, and should he even really be pouring a dram for Remus anyway? Patton’s Google search history is really getting to some areas of the internet it doesn’t usually get to stray into!) 

Patton decides to just. Not really look at it too closely. Or smell it too much. And to maybe clean out the oven between bakes to make sure the other pies don’t taste too haggis-y. He can’t imagine a blackberry-pomegranate jam pie is going to blend well with the lingering scents of sheep liver and suet.

So Patton sets his alarm to purr (a purring cat alarm clock! what will people come up with next!) at a truly ridiculous time of day. 

It’s actually a little bit painful, waking up that early. Ugh. The sun isn’t even up. Patton can still see the light of the moon filtering through his blinds. It’s so cozy in his bed, and out there it’s so cold, and he’s tired, gosh darn it. 

It’s a good thing he sets two alarms; the cat alarm within his reach and, in a move of forethought that usually eludes him, a second one on his phone that’s out of his reach so that he’ll need to actually get up to turn it off. He finds himself dozing off in that space of three minutes between blaring, but even as the second one starts, he thinks that might have been just what he needed.

More sleep. 

But that’s going to have to be contained to three minutes and three minutes only. Because there’s a brilliant, bespectacled brainiac who has a year-long hankering for both jams and pies, and this is THE day to cater to both of those interests.

So even while he’s debating going back to sleep, he thinks for Logan, and that staves off the last sweet temptations of warm blankets and more blessed, blessed sleep.

So he blearily pulls on one of his many blue polos, ties his cat hoodie over his shoulders, and descends the stairs, headphones in hand and playlists prepped, ready to tackle the pies of the day.

He turns on his headphones and puts on a playlist Roman made, preheats the oven, washes his hands, and lays out saran wrap he can flour to roll out doughs (thank you, baking blogs, for that tip on how to get a lower level of mess!) and then gets sidetracked because he could have sworn they had a rolling pin, where is it—

(It’s tucked into the drawer where they usually keep a mishmash of other unusual kitchen supplies, which means that Patton also gets to find a little juicer which will save him time when it comes to juicing lemons for Janus’ galette. Neat!)

—and goes about rolling out the first of many, many doughs.

All made with butter, flour, sugar, salt, ice water (substituted about half of that water with vodka for some, which apparently makes a flakier, more tender crust? He’s interested to see if that one actually works) most of them the night before, so that the doughs had time to chill, but he still has a couple quicker crusts (made of graham crackers, mostly) that need to be assembled, like, now.

Also, he’s going through so. much. butter. Holy moo-ly is that a lot of butter! These pies are gonna be delicious, though, you’d butter believe it!

Patton laughs to himself. He has a feeling he’ll be doing that a lot today.

He packs away the first of the pie fillings (old-fashioned jelly pie, one of the two blackberry-pomegranates, and Virgil’s boo-berry) and sets the first three pies in the oven. He’s on a roll!

Or. Hang on.

Patton immediately sidetracks starting on the second batch to look up if pie rolls are a thing (they are, of course they are, what will those recipe bloggers come up with next!) and takes a few moments to deliberate if adding in a whole new baked good would be worth it for one pun.

He decides to wait and see if he has enough leftover dough for that. But he is very tempted.

Patton gets into a pretty good rhythm, really; by the time the first three pies come out of the oven, the next three (Roman’s strawberry rhubarb, Thomas’ apple, and a peach mango) are rarin’ to go, and he’s even got a head start on Janus’ fancy galette crust!

It’s more fun and less fussy than he thought it’d be, really. The crust recipes he’s found for this recipe is much less fussy than the needs-to-be-chilled-forever pie crust he’d been working with before his baking research for today. 

Patton hums happily along to the latest song on the playlist because he doesn’t know the words well enough to sing as he carefully pinches and pleats the dough.

The filling, on the other hand, is very fussy. Why is meringue so dramatic? Patton overbeats it for, like, maybe five seconds and it immediately deflates on him. 

Okay, more like thirty seconds, but he wasn’t sure what foamy was meant to look like, he was just trying to be sure!

But anyway, he manages the second attempt at meringue pretty well, or at least well enough to manage. He manages to transfer the meringue to the galette crust with minimal spillage. Woo-hoo!

He has to pause in brushing egg yolk along the crust to take out the pies and swap in the three newest (another old-fashioned jelly pie, Janus’ galette, and a blind bake for the french silk that’ll quickly go into the freezer).

He’s so in the zone that he doesn’t even notice until he’s taking out the latest old-fashioned jelly pie, sniffing it and frowning at the incorrect smell, that he’d completely switched around the two containers they use to hold salt and sugar.

Patton sighs, staring down at the ruined pie. Oh well.

He hesitates.

It’d be a shame for it to go to waste, he guesses.

He folds, and takes in a forkful of pie, before pulling a face and leaning to spit it out in the sink. Yuck!

He quickly wraps it up with foil and adds a post-it note on top that says FOR REMUS: SALTY?

Patton hopes he’ll like it, otherwise people might get salty about missing out on what could have been a perfectly good pie.

So he gets started on an extra old-fashioned jelly pie; good thing for that extra dough, but he guesses that means no pie rolls. Oh, well! He can still make the pun while knowing about their existence, even if he won’t have a physical prop.

All’s sel that ends sel.

(Get it, sel? Like sel gris? It’s some kind of French salt, Patton thinks. According to Google, anyway. And it rhymes with all’s well that ends well? No? Ah, Patton can admit that’s not one of his best puns. He’ll keep workshopping it before he cracks a joke to Remus.)

But the rest of the baking goes great! He even remembers what each piece of Scottish lingo is for each ingredient of the haggis! 

There’s no more salt-for-sugar level catastrophes; the closest mixup he has is misremembering which way he was overlaying a lattice, and that’s fixed easily enough even if the lines aren’t as straight as they are in magazines.

There’s a lot of not straight in this household, though, so Patton figures everyone will be okay with that.

He even manages to finish ahead of schedule! Take that, Great British Baking Show stressful rush music that was starting to play in his mind! He bets Mary Berry’s blue eyes would sparkle at him in grandmotherly pride! Prue Leith would happily tap the countertop with the flat of her hand if she tasted one his pies!

Earning a Paul Hollywood handshake? Patton doesn’t know about that one.

But that’s to Patton’s preference. He really isn’t sure about that Paul Hollywood. Something about the judgings he doles out. And why is his judgment more heavily weighted than Prue’s, anyway? Prue’s an incredibly accomplished baker! 

It’s that darn pastry-archy working, Patton bets. Just because Prue’s not queen of scones or something doesn’t mean her opinion matters less than the silly king of bread.

Patton might have said so, really, during their latest bingewatch of the show, except it’s not a particularly common opinion. He isn’t sure how much his fellow sides prefer Paul Hollywood to Prue, though. If he says how much he prefers Prue and Mary to Paul, then someone whose favorite judge was the batter latter might take it like Patton’s enacted the Pi-ides of March.

He manages to settle most of the pies, goes about scooping in cold fillings for the chillier pies that need to be in the fridge (French silk, a peanut butter-chocolate pie, banana cream, and a very promising Twix pie he’d found—those blogs, really, what will they come up with next? Patton hopes all of them have been sent flours for their efforts!)

Patton spends the rest of the morning tidying up the kitchen of stray flour and sugar, arranging the pies in a flavor order that makes the most sense of him, (with the salt pie far in the back) and trying to pick out which of their dining utensils would be cutest to use with each pie, watching the sunrise filter in through the windows.

Ooh, he can’t wait to see the look on all of their faces!

⁂

And he does get to see the looks on their faces; the surprise, the pleased smiles, the “mmm!”s as they eat their specialized pies, Logan’s soft smiles at him when he probably thought Patton wasn’t looking, and Patton’s happier than… well, happier than a sweet-toothed sugar lover in his kitchen, currently full of pies, pies, and more pies.

And dirty dishes. But that’s less important to the metaphor, and he can take care of that pretty quickly! Just… later.

What? It’s not like they can have Pi Day without trying to seek out other pie-themed foods!

(It’s mostly pizza.)

At the end of the day, when everyone else has gone up to bed, when Patton’s loading the dishwasher, he pauses.

There’s one more covered dish than there was this morning.

A chocolate chip cookie pie for our favorite dad guy!

—Janus, Remus, Roman, and Virgil

P.S.: Your gestures of celebration are appreciated. —Logan.

Patton beams a bright, silly smile, briefly tracing his fingers over their signatures, then carefully cuts himself a slice of chocolate chip cookie pie.

It’s delicious. Still a little warm—so it must have been baked recently, probably when he’d fallen asleep on the couch a bit, oops—gooey, chocolatey throughout, and the perfect marriage of a pie and a cookie. Patton wiggles happily as he eats every last delicious crumb of his slice, making sure to carefully wrap it back up and place it amongst the other pies.

He takes the note, though. That’s going somewhere special.

And as he falls asleep, full of sugar and all the good things, he knows he’s going to sleep well after a day of baking and eating and making sure Logan knows he’s appreciated.

Even if he has silly dreams about the moon turning into a big, silver pie.

[end-l3ss-v0id]

Virgil [Honkai Version]

Originally posted on Wattpad :')

Virgil is an OC i amde like a couple months ago

Picrew used - I want to be looked down upon by beautiful people. by _Stmtg_ Fandom - Honkai Impact 3rd/Honkai Star Rail Trigger Warnings - Murder, violence, blood, & implied mental problems(?)

Appearance description

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↬ Grey-white hair, curly and long and reaches down to his waist

↬ dark teal eyes with long lashes (deep set eye shape)

↬ cold pale skin with pointy elf ears

↬ Victorian/fancy clothing (mainly in black, white or purple)

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Background information/Backstory (it's a little choppy)

Virgil was around 10 when he first started seeing this string, his life was normal before the string showed up. He told his foster family about it, but they thought he was going crazy and seeing things. The start sort of had a small whisper in his mind to follow the string and follow it to his lead to destiny.

in high school he ended up killing one of his classmates, due to the string. it told him to do it, and people thought he was crazy when he talked about the red line, due to the fact only he can see it.

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Basic information

Age: 500+ sex: Male likes: the dark, night-time, espresso & quiet spaces. dislikes: romance movies height: 6'0 weight: 160 pounds

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Relationships (just random characters)

Stelle & Calleus - Not a fan of the trailblazers but finds their trashcan seeking amusing.

March 7th - terrified her and proud of it. (as in he scared her once on accident and found it hilarious)

Dan Heng - had an hour-long staring contest with him and lost. (they are on okay-terms)

Gepard - often runs away from him due to, well crime reasons.

Serval - has only seen her once, and ran away because she looked like Gepard

Sampo - saw him stealing once, they had a staring contest. (Virgil likes giving people random staring contests if you can't tell) Silver wolf: Never Met her, not yet at least.

Kafka -Never Met her, not yet at least.

Blade - he thinks he's interesting.

Jing Yuan- he (JY) doesn't like him because he fought Yangqing

Yanqing - the child attempted to fight him once and lost. (Virgil bonked him on the head with his cane pretty hard)

Bailu - Tiny dragon child that he finds amusing when she runs away.

Clara - he saved her once, out of pity of course.

Himeko -no words, just strawberry.

Welt - never met him, not yet at least.

Luocha - blonde healer man, he finds him cute.

Otto Apocalypse - he thought his name was funny.

Void archives - never met him, not yet at least.

Kevin Kaslana - never met him, not yet at least.

SU - Plant man, he likes his company.

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Signature battle spell/weapon

'Fate Strings'

A visible red line that wraps around the opponents' limbs and burns into the skin, either stunning them or giving them burn damage.

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Quotes

"Stay out of my way if you know what's best for you."

"Your fate lies in my hands."

"Why must you insist I tell you so much?"

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