#virgil plush

[szaryherbatnik]

One of my favorite things is studying the evolution of the plushie corner tm.

[shiftythrifting]

i've been laughing for a while at this sebastian plush i saw at texas thrift in houston

[gordonthegreatesttracy]

@cg29 @mrmustachious @drileyf @ak47stylegirl @ak47stylegirl @katblu42 @alexthefly @janetm74 @soniabigcheese @tinytracys @m-calculus week 2 of our cousins vacation. The virgils went to the ballet while everyone else stayed at the hotel and John read a story

And us Gordons went to the park! And there was a duck baby! And we made friends with a duck, sunbathed, played in the bug hotel, and climbed trees. It was exhausting so we then had hot chocolate at the cafe!

[jack-enbyfold]

The key difference between Virgil "Anxiety" Sanders and Andy "shorts!Anxiety" Sanders is that Virgil is a weeb while Andy has brony vibes

[pick-a-plush]

For all my fellow sanders sides enjoyers, and others of course! Which youtooz side plushies would you want most?

From left to right & top to bottom:

Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Thomas Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders

[samwinchesterpsychiatry]

i have No money but its ok bcus somehow i WILL get atleast one of these plushies. I WILL!

[anachronistic-falsehood]

here take this. u will need his support in the coming days

[goldenmaplearts12]

BONUS!!

@employee052

[transfemlogan]

Spoilers

Aaaaah! Logan liked his mini Virgil plush!

YEA YEA I SAWWW WEEPING. THEY SHOULD KISS

[hoardingpuffin]

Thinking about Elwood and their relationship with sentimentality and aesthetics.

Thinking about this kid that grew up in a group home orphanage sort of place where the only things he really owned were his clothes. Not even the books in the abandoned study were truly his, he just borrowed them even though their original owner was long gone.

Thinking about the teenager that flew off in the middle of the night with his only possessions being his clothes and a scrap of a torn-out dictionary page, fending for themselves for the first time, never allowing himself to gather objects that were not strictly useful and nessessities, because he could not have anything weighing them down.

Thinking about the lanky seventeen year old who broke his own rule about 'frivilous' things just a few times but always justified them to himself as useful: A nice fountain pen, some books, nicer clothes that fit him better than worn-out handmedowns. Of course all of these things are useful, but none of them are strictly nessecary - he could have used a pencil, borrowed books instead of carrying them with him, stuck with lesser quality clothes until they wore out. Thinking about how Elwood gave up one of his only possessions to Mirasol as a gift.

Thinking about Elwood arriving in Brightstep with his only possessions being his clothes, now with a spare knit jumper, a notebook for his research, a sleeping bag. Still only useful things, where he can excuse away the sentimental value. Thinking about Elwood now, months later - he has a house, he has an office in the library, he has flower pots and plush pillows and soft blankets. He has several notebooks when he really only needs one, but several are easier to split different topics of research into. He has a proper new well-made binder that has not been mended a hundred times. He has armour for the first time, he has weapons instead of pockets of rocks. He has a flower crown that reminds him of his younger sibling. He carries around the lily of the valley that Virgil gifted him, as well as an orange tulip from Pietro. So many of these are not explainable with usefulness, they are purely sentimental and for the first time in his life Elwood is allowing himself to have these things and to be sentimental without feeling guilty for it.

And then the books. For the first time in ages, Elwood is reading for pleasure rather than research. He sat down on the spiral staircase to read to Virgil's ravens. He's read childrens' books like And Tango Makes Three and novels such as Kite & Prejudice and Lord of the Wings. These books bear no relevancy to his research, but Elwood is reading them anyways, without feeling guilty for it.

Holding him in my hands.

That's all.

[connorsnothereeither]

“And now it’s time for a breakdown…” /ref

Welcome to my (fairly long lol) breakdown of the thought process behind the Ulysses CMV background!! ✨ I’m gonna go through it shelf by shelf because I think that’s easiest, so… buckle up! :D

TOP SHELF:

On the far left, we have an Assassins Creed Apple of Eden! Most of the soundtracks to the Ulysses vods came from AC: Odyssey, and AC: Origins! The Ancient Greek and Egyptian music fit him perfectly, who’d have thought. Including the main song from Ulysses epilogue, “Reunited” from AC: Odyssey. Behind that is of course my hand-bound copy of On the Brink of Scientific Discovery. I had to work out a way to get my earliest entry into the Fable Fandom in there somewhere. Beside it is the skull, and a copy of Frankenstein, by Mary Shelly, which I’ve spoken about being an inspiration for Ulysses. Along with, of course, Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, and Herodotus’ Histories (Herodotus being the main inspiration for epilogue Ulysses and who he became towards the end)! And naturally, James Joyce's Ulysses. I had to. Besides that again is another copy of Frankenstein, along with more Ancient Greek works, specifically Euripides’ Medea and the works of the poet Sappho! And a copy of Moby Dick, since Ahab and Ishmael were both concept names for Ulysses during character creation! Besides those, the smaller penguin books, are some of my favourite details but some of the harder to spot because they’re so small. One is another poem by Sappho, Come Close. But the OTHER is The Fall of Icarus by Ovid, which I absolutely had to put in there. Impossible to see, but I know it’s there, and it makes me happy. Of course, once again on the theme of writers is a bust of Shakespeare, but behind him, is actually the set of D&D dice I bought inspired by Ulysses, which are made to look like they have kelp and seaweed inside them! ✨ and finally on the top shelf is a ship, in reference to his sailing and ship in the epilogue art, and a mini Greek style amphora.

MIDDLE SHELF:

On the far right, at the bottom, is the black knight chess piece, the same as Ulysses tattoo!! A reference to both the Trojan horse and him being a piece in the Telchin’s game. Behind it, the tiki mug, is a somewhat vague reference to the Sea Dragon Tavern! It’s never explicitly stated that they serve tiki drinks, but it certainly feels like a place that would. Tucked in, barely noticeable, is the Egyptian Book of the Dead. Both a reference to more ancient mythology, but also, in a little way, a reference to Lenarius. A book on the treatment and care of the dead. I think it would suit him. Make Len happy. More Greek texts (the Iliad and Odyssey again) this time including Ovid’s Metamorphosis, and Virgil’s Aeneid, a reference to both the mythological epic itself and to my little guy Virgil, from SkyBound SMP. Propped against those are a boatswain’s whistle, which I like to think is a little gift from Vorago and Casus. A captain’s call, to get someone’s attention no matter where you are on the sea, along with a small canon, which is actually from St Augustine Lighthouse, and felt very nautical. Behind those is a set of tarot cards, displaying the Magician, a symbol of manifesting and living to your true potential, which is fitting for Ulysses. All of that is of course propped on ANOTHER copy of the Odyssey. The full moon, as a little reference to his bestie Fenris, and a bear statue, which is a little nod to the fact I also voiced Deltavera (and the statue was actually a gift Jamie got me one of the times we met up)! Beside that is a handful of little bottles! The dice inside are mostly just because… that’s what I keep in those little potion bottles, but maybe they’re a reference to Wheel Not Fake or something too, who knows lol- and a little white axolotl plush. My son. My own personal little Perseus, I bought him the second I saw him akgsksgs ✨🫶

BOTTOM SHELF:

Almost done lol. The globe on the end, both a reference to the cartography/travel, and the fact that it’s turned to just show the ocean, rather than any countries. The sea is his home, after all. Another axolotl plush, peeking out from behind yet ANOTHER copy of the Iliad and Odyssey, which is balanced on a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy, as another little reference to Virgil from Bound SMP. Behind that is a whisky bottle, which is empty in the photo but not in the CMV, as a reference to the Kelpin’ alcohol! And finally, the stack of books in the corner. The folio society set of The Greek Myths are some of my favourite books I own, and I had to include them, along with a few more potion bottles, which actually include the dice from various Cantripped One Shots (I have special dice for characters and one shots when I can)! The stack of books behind the scrolls and lanterns also include Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles (one of the inspirations behind Ulysses & Vesperae’s relationship) and Circe (more Odyssey references), along with world myths and Icelandic Sagas, and The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon, which was an early and incredibly influential historical text about the Roman’s (which somewhat inspired the structure and lore of the broader Telchin society!), on top of which is more mythology like the Welsh Mabinogion, the Norse Poetic Edda, and a horror anthology titled The Great God Pan and Other Horror Stories, many of which inspired Brink!! The lantern is, in all honesty, the only there not there for a specific reason… I just thought it looked cool :)

So yeah! That was my overly long analysis of my overly detailed Ulysses set background! Barely any of it is visible in the CMV, but for my little farewell to the character and world I had spent so long falling in love with, I wanted to make the background something special 🫶

[shiftythrifting]

I work at a thrift store, and this is just one of the wild things that have been donated to us. Other things that I wasn’t able to get a photo of include

Sexy nurse cosplay with the name badge “Nurse Ophelia”

Bloody duvet. If you’re going to murder someone, please don’t donate the aftermath. I don’t want to touch it.

The head to a flamingo statue. Just the head.

A hair straightener INSIDE a suit pocket.

A shirt that said “SUSPICIOUS” in all caps. It had a vaporwave vibe.

A collection of funeral pamphlets. All in the same suit. There were about 15 of them.

Teletubbie pencil holders (I actually do have a photo of a shrine we made with them, but it will reveal my store so I have to wait until I quit).

A volunteer was sorting our raw donations and very “helpfully” placed a pair of designer shoes on top of our dumpster, only to get caught trying to go back for them later that day. Dude was literally pink panther sneaking across the open garage doors to get to our dumpster and was baffled that we saw him. Shoes retail used for about $600.

[gordonthegreatesttracy]

@drileyf @cg29 @mrmustachious @tbirds @soniabigcheese @janetm74 @katblu42 @nourelle-tracy @alexthefly @ak47stylegirl @m-calculus

VACAY! Time for our big annual pilgrimage to the MotoGP! We had a blast 😁

Look at all the cool riders we met!

I met Rory Skinner, Virgil met Aleix Espargaro, Scott met Maverick Vinales, Alan met Darryn Binder and John met Augusto Fernandez!

And now we are in our tent - Parker jr said it counts as camping as it’s on a holiday site! Tomorrow it’s time for free practise 😁

[tagsecretsanta]

From @ajpendragon

From @ajpendragon to @cookidoughlilac

I had a lot of fun with this (and maybe made myself cry a little bit). I tried to focus on Jeff’s feelings about his first Christmas back with his boys, which was one of the prompts I received. Hopefully, it turned out okay!

Memory

He had forgotten just how comfortable this couch was in the last eight years. 

Jeff's boys were gathered around the tree, wrapping it in lights and ornaments in a show of teamwork that he could have only dreamed about the last time he had been here. Virgil sat at the piano, Christmas carols filling the room, his skills far better than Jeff remembered. Scott and John were working on the top of the tree, using their superior height to decorate without needing to find a ladder. Gordon and Alan were darting between their legs, hanging the most hideous ornaments they could find with peals of laughter. 

Jeff thought about getting up to help them, but no sooner did the idea cross his mind than his mother's arm tightened around his shoulders. "Don't even think about getting up." She ordered softly, passing him the chipped mug from the table next to her. The ‘World’s bestest dad’ in childish handwriting gleamed in the light. "Let them enjoy this. You enjoy this."

He took a long sip of his hot chocolate, enjoying the rich flavor as he swallowed. He had forgotten what chocolate tasted like. "I am enjoying this." He protested, unable to stop himself from savoring another sip before continuing. "I just want to help. I spent so long dreaming of this, and now that I'm back, I can't even join in."

"I know." She soothed. "But you need to rest. You're not up for it yet. Soon, but not yet. If you tried to help, they would just be worried about you. Just watch-"

The blaring of the emergency alarm interrupted her, all of the boys jumping together to listen as EOS quickly ran them through the situation. They quickly disappeared through their pictures, his mother retreating back to the office to coordinate, leaving him alone in the living room, staring at the half-finished tree.

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

It didn't take long after the boys left for him to get bored.  At least in space, there was always something that needed to be done: food to collect, repairs to make, watching for his boys on the ever-decreasing chance that they would come for him. But here, his only job was to rest and recover, relearn how to live on earth after so long. Honestly, it was incredibly boring. Not that he wasn't thankful. Every day he got to spend with his boys, with his mother, in his home, was a blessing he had honestly been so close to giving up hope of ever having again. But he was bored.

Rest and recover, according to his mother and sons, meant doing absolutely nothing. He knew they were right. After so long in space, earth was an environment his body had forgotten how to function in. It was difficult to walk, he was more tired than he could ever remember being before, he ached under the pressure of a gravity he had nearly forgotten the feeling of. But he wanted to do something. He needed to be doing something. His brain wouldn't let him rest while his family was out there, risking their lives for a world that had forgotten how much it owed them.

So, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet. Pausing a moment to let his heart adjust to his body being upright, he slowly made his way to his bedroom. Once there, he carefully lowered himself to the ground, knees cracking as he settled in a comfortable spot on the plush carpet and reached under the bed.

The box he pulled out was old and dusty, left there for so long that even the cleaning bots had forgotten about it. He settled the cardboard carefully on his lap, blowing the dust off the lid and removing it to set it to the side, hands trembling as he pulled out the first of the box's contents.

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

Thirty minutes later, one of his feet asleep from the unusual position, he set the box to the side and used the bed to leverage himself up. Taking a few moments to rest on the edge of the bed (and to shake his foot awake), he grabbed the box in his free hand and headed back to the Christmas tree. 

It took some careful maneuvering, and a lot of breaks, but he managed to finish his project before his boys returned. He was resting on the couch again when they came into the room, hair damp from post-mission showers, and clearly tired, although still in good spirits.

It took them a moment to notice the change, but one by one they each stopped in the middle of the floor, staring open-mouthed at the ornaments he had hung. He could see a suspicious sheen of tears in some of the older boys eyes.

On the front of the tree, hanging carefully from the sturdiest branches he had been able to find, were some of his most precious possessions: the ornaments each of the boys had made with their mother on their first Christmas. He had always kept them somewhere safe, refusing to trust such irreplaceable memories to the safety hazard that was their storage closet.

"I had almost forgotten about those. I thought they were lost." Scott breathed softly, his eyes never leaving the precious ornaments. He came over to the couch, curling his long frame up on the cushion next to Jeff, gently resting his head on his father's shoulder. Slowly, the rest of his brothers joined him, each settling themselves into a place where they could touch their father, seeming to need that reassurance. 

Jeff didn't mind. After eight long years, the reminder that he was no longer alone was something he desperately needed too. Eight years of his boys lives, eight Christmases, eight years of memories he had missed. He had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by love like this.

Sitting there, surrounded by the people he loved most in the world, the boys who had kept him going for all those long eight years, he vowed not to miss anything else. He would be there for his boys, no matter what. He could not, would not allow himself to forget this feeling. It was up to him now to make up for all those years, building new memories to move forward on. 

He was already forgetting the pain and struggle, the loneliness, of the last eight years. He could feel it slipping away, wrapped in the warmth of his family's embrace.

Memory was funny like that.

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 10

⚠️ Trigger Warning for angst

This could have probably been an earlier chapter, but hey, better late than never! Alan and Gordon arrive home post-TB4-mission.

❤️💛 🚀

Alan let the warmth of the shower seep into his bones. He was sure his squid brother was secretly cold-blooded. Stepping into a shower after Gordon, was akin to performing the ice bucket challenge - the water barely more tepid than the sea itself. Alan, was the polar opposite - disassociating in the molten mist until he'd generated his very own steam room.

The teen grabbed a towel and headed for the lockers.

"Gordon, what the hell?"

He slammed the locker door shut.

Asshole had taken his spare clothes.

He searched through the other lockers. John's was empty, Virgil's; locked. He opened Scott's and pulled out a finely pressed shirt and jeans. 

Gordon had better hope that Four had no further call outs today or he'd drown the fish himself.

The designer jeans were far too long in the leg. He had to fold the ends up twice to avoid tripping on the excess material as he waddled. The shirt was equally ridiculous. He looked like a child trying on their father's work clothes. It wasn't too far from the truth. But he was nineteen, not nine. And he loathed anything that could be used as ammunition by his brothers to remind him that yes... he was the baby of the family - he got it, alright?

He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of Scott's jeans, desperate to protect himself from further embarrassment and shuffled his way back to his room. Brothers sucked ass.

*.  *.  *.

The astronaut's mood subsided a little on seeing that Grandma had been and spruced his room in his absence. His favourite green guitar top had been washed, ironed and laid out on the end of his bed.

Scooping up the casual wear; he buried his face into the soft fabric and inhaled its floral scent. Grandma was one of the few members who actually bothered to remember to add the softener to washes. He was so used to the Birds, bedrooms and gym smelling like...well, a gym; that it was a secret pleasure to enjoy the floral scent of cleanliness. Alan decided that it was the little things in life that brought the greatest pleasure.

He headed to his closet to grab his go-to shorts; pulling the tee over his head as he walked.

"FUCK!"

The floor beneath him shifted. 

His room, the villa, maybe even the island shaking with a ferocity usually reserved to a Two Bird callout.

Alan was flung to the floor. He groaned. Where was his super-plush rug to cushion his fall-

His world suddenly tipped.

Blindly reaching out; somewhat encumbered in his half-dressed state, Alan managed to grasp the doorframe to his closet. 

"GUYS! HELP!"

It sounded like a volcanic eruption...

His room roared like fracturing rock.

Steel screamed and splintered above him.

"Agh!" The sound was deafening, but he didn't dare let go.

Alan's thoughts were racing faster than Fireflash.

John. John would not have missed an impending  eruption?

...Other than that one time with Professor Quentin Questa at Hrómundartinhurmindur. 

No, this was nothing like a volcano. So what then?

His mind flitted through other possibilities. .

Earthquake? Landslide?

His room stopped shaking with one last feeble quiver.

Alan dared to pull his head through his top with a singular hand - the other still firmly glued to the doorframe.

The teen blinked; not trusting his eyes with the reality they presented him with. 

One of his bedroom walls...

His floor length windows...

They were just... gone.

A wall of silver filled the space.

[katblu42]

Manhattan at 2am

Very short fic snippet - what I would have written for last week's Flash Fiction Friday prompt of Lights and Sirens if I'd had myself together!

I do not know why he's in NYC, and in this state, but have some exhausted Scott.

The storm had passed.  Flashes of light still lit up the clouds away to the south east over the water, but the rain had stopped.  Scott scrunched his toes into the plush carpet a few times as he gazed out over the New York City skyline.  The floor to ceiling window offered him an uninterrupted view of downtown Manhattan, alive with light and movement even at 2am.

Raindrops on the glass caught and refracted the light, and bent some of the straight edges of buildings in interesting ways if he concentrated on them.  But he wasn’t really concentrating on anything.  Not even the gaggle of vehicles with blue and red lights flashing congregating outside a building several blocks away to the south.

The brief thought crossed his mind that sirens would be wailing through the streets, but there was no chance of hearing them from way up here.  Not with the soundproofing they had for the penthouse apartment.  He did wonder if whatever emergency was occurring would involve evacuating a bunch of bleary-eyed people in pyjamas out onto the street until the situation could be resolved.  He couldn’t see any smoke or flames, so he hoped the fire trucks were merely responding to alarms sent haywire by storm induced power fluctuations.

With a small sigh, he leaned his forehead against the cool glass. 

Traffic moved silently through the streets below marking time in streaks of white headlights and red taillights.

Then a warm hand rested on his shoulder.  A warm hand attached to a well-muscled arm that gently draped across his upper back.  And the brother attached to that arm now stood close enough beside him that a comforting warmth began to permeate through Scott’s thin cotton sleep attire.

A familiar voice rumbled softly.*

On some level Scott knew he should respond, but he couldn’t seem to summon the energy.  He may have sagged a little against his ever-steady brother.

The voice rumbled again and was joined by a second, more melodious voice and a faint blue glow reflecting off the inside of the window glass.**

He didn’t remember moving.

There was warmth and softness.  Comfort and familiarity.

He was in bed, covers tucked neatly over him, snuggled up against a heat source that rose and fell with slow, even breaths.  Virgil.

Music was playing quietly.  A recording of one of Virgil’s piano pieces.  John’s doing.

There would be more meetings tomorrow.  Board members, clients, investors, employees . . . responsibilities.

But for now he was content to let the siren song of jazz piano lure him down into the depths of slumber.

* “Scott? You okay?”

** “John, you were right.  I’ve got him now.”      “FAB.  Let me know if you need anything.”