#virgil sparks

[soranatus]

John Timms’ cover art to DC’s Essential Graphic Novels (2023)

[jasontoddssuper]

Since i decided to make my dc self-insert a character in the og Teen Titans cartoon and have his own TT faction,here they are!!

Introducing Titans Mid-West,namesake because of their base being in Smallville!!2nd one is my little brother's @jellyjays 's own s/i Blitz and in this verse Red X is Terry,who got throw back into the past and kidnapped by Slade before he could fully become Batman Beyond :] Hope you guys like it but don't be a dick if you don't ty!

(Oh almost forget but 1st edit goes to @theautisticcentre !!)

[delimeful]

Lime lime lime I’m obsessed with so many of your stories. But also what is everyone’s approximate ages in tktsaaiw ? I’m so thinking about it

i don't have specific set ages from them, but i've personally been envisioning them as in their twenties, and not all that far apart from each other. i do know that patton's the oldest (group dad), roman is the youngest, and logan has been in space the longest.

[squiddokiddo]

Scott: It's just a cake.

Virgil: Yeah.

Scott: Why did we need to fly all the way to the other side of the world for this? It's not even that good.

Scott: We could've picked a chocolate cake up from Walmart.

Kayo: HEY!! Don't you talk sh*t about Collin the Caterpillar!!

*****

I'm just thinking about the British and the weird stuff that we've just absorbed into our culture.

[edupunkn00b]

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 20: Thinking Out Loud

Prev - Thinking Out Loud - Last - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

People fall in love in mysterious ways Maybe just the touch of a hand Well, me, I fall in love with you every single day And I just wanna tell you I am - Thinking Out Loud, Ed Sheeran

WC: 4243 - Rated: G - CW: none? Gotta be honest, this is pretty fluffy -

“Hey, Dad, can I get in that cabinet?” 

Virgil stood inches from Logan as he slouched over the kitchen counter, checking his phone for messages from Janus. After four and a half months of motions, counter-motions, delays, and continuances, the judge had called a special session in her chambers with only attorneys present. They were both hopeful she planned to dismiss the case, but Logan was afraid to bank too much on hope. 

He walked a line between putting his faith in Janus’ willingness and ability to fight on his behalf, forcing the case from his mind. And obsessively checking his phone for any updates, texted questions, or taunting messages of victory from Kelly.

Virgil chuckled, smirking lightly at his father. “You didn’t fall asleep did you?”

“No. No, of course not.” He adjusted his glasses and smoothed down his tie, quickly turning his wrist to check when his watch buzzed. Nothing important. He drank a bit more of his coffee and cleared his throat. “Simply checking my email.”

“Okay…” Virgil drawled. Logan couldn’t tell if he believed him or not. Virgil pulled out a bowl and took down a box of popcorn. Bopping his head to the music playing out of one earbud, he shed its wrapper and set it in the microwave. While it popped, he rooted through the cabinets and found a box of Cheez-its and filled another bowl with them. “Hey, do we have any more of that trail mix?”

“No, I’m sorry, Virge, we’re out,” he rubbed Virgil’s shoulder then updated the shopping list on the refrigerator. “I can hit Costco tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” The microwave beeped and Virgil shook the bag before dumping it all into another bowl. “Say, Dad, are you gonna have any time off next month other than Christmas Day?” 

Logan grinned, looking up at Virgil and pointing toward the calendar. “I’ve got the entire week after Christmas off, starting on the 25th. Was there something you’d like to do?”

“Do you think you’ll have time to go through the cabinets? I mean, we have a lot of stuff here that I don’t think we need….”

“Oh.” Logan kept his mask on and nodded, throat tightening beyond words. He swallowed hard and smiled. “Sure, Virge, of course,” he finally managed. His eyes darted around the kitchen and he wondered which cabinet he should start on tonight after the boys went to sleep.

“Virge?” Roman asked from the hallway. He huffed out a little laugh, leaning against the banister. “That’s a funny way to say, ‘Dad, I’m glad you’re getting some vacation time.’”

“Oh,” Virgil blinked, looking at Logan. “Oh, yeah, that… “ He stepped a little closer and smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, that didn’t come out right. Sorry, Dad.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked again at the calendar. “I am really glad you’re getting some time off.”

“Thank you,” Logan nodded, not entirely certain what to do with the sincerity in his son’s eyes.

Virgil gave a little shrug, “Was there… was there something you were hoping we could do while you’re off and… and Remy and I are home?”

“Something I want to do?” he repeated. He hadn’t really thought about it beyond getting his request in and arranging his cases to have the time free.

“That’s a good question,” Roman’s voice rumbled from the stairwell.

Logan looked between them and smiled. “How would you feel about the light show at the Botanical Garden? It gets dark so early in December and… It’s really lovely at night.”

Nodding, Virgil grinned. “That sounds like fun. And we could see if that hot chocolate cart is there again… Oh! Remember when Pat was finally old enough to hold his own cup?”

“Oh and he…” Logan covered his mouth, laughing, and Virgil turned to Roman.

“Pat asked to wear Dad’s tie,” he mimicked Logan’s habitual straightening of the knot at his neck. “He said he was drinking coffee but you needed to wear a tie to be old enough for coffee.”

“That’s adorable!” Roman chuckled.

“Made us call him ‘Little Daddy.’” Virgil picked up his snacks and shook his head. “And then he dribbled hot chocolate all over the thing.”

“Oh no!”

“I still have the tie, stains and all,” Logan smiled, a little wistful. He’d kept hidden it away in a little box of treasures at work. It was one of the first things he’d brought to new house.

Virgil bumped his father’s shoulder as he passed. “I’ll come down when Jax gets here if you want to call it an early night, Dad. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends with all your cases.” He grinned. “Remy and I can manage two ninth graders.”

Logan nodded, eyes flicking over to meet Roman’s. None of the boys knew about Kelly’s petition, though he’d planned to talk with the older two when they visited for Thanksgiving, to share a bit about what had been keeping him so occupied. But now that they were home, he didn’t know how he’d ever explain.

“Thank you, Virge. I might take you up on that for an hour or two,” he nodded and smiled as Virgil made his way up the stairs. Roman ruffled his hair as he passed then joined Logan in the kitchen.

“Any word from Janus?” he asked quietly, gently bumping his shoulder and staying there. He smiled when Logan bumped back, leaning into him.

“Nothing,” Logan shook his head. Roman was warm against his arm, his eyes bright. “Janus is confident he can get it dismissed.” He’d shared part of the proceedings back in June with Roman, but Logan had left out everything that had involved him. If he wasn’t actually named, he didn’t need to find out… not that way, at least.

Roman leaned back against his shoulder and Logan smiled up at him. The shorter days and the sudden sunset had left the house darker than usual, but even in the dim light, he was beautiful.

Even if Logan knew he couldn’t be completely open about his feelings with Roman, that he couldn’t simply lay all that at his feet and magically expect it not to damage their friendship, at least he’d finally stopped lying to himself.

His feelings for Roman were far more than friendly. 

Since the first hearing, since his final admission to Janus, really, his dreams had only intensified. And over the past few months, Roman had woven himself into Logan’s days, first with the family’s twice-a-week visits to his summer Shakespeare festival and then nightly dinners at least a couple times a week, with or without Janus and Remus. Increasingly, there were weeks when Roman spent more evenings at his house than at his own brother’s.

It left Logan with a plethora of memories for his sleeping mind to warp into a very different kind of life together.

“How was your interview, Mr. Prince?” he asked, grinning when Roman stole a sip of his coffee and warmed his hands on the cup.

Roman chuckled. “A cross between TMZ and The Actor’s Studio.” He took another sip and tilted his head until it rested gently against Logan’s. Roman’s head was warm in the slightly chilly kitchen, heat radiating through his hair and against Logan’s. “Pat’s got a talent.”

“He’s petitioning the school for a ‘radio’ show during homeroom,” he nodded. “He’ll start with interviewing popular students and teachers. Then sneak in current events and if a little advocacy naturally follows…”

“Very nice,” Roman laughed again, gently bumping his head. Apparently not gently enough because he grunted quietly at the impact. “Pat certainly takes after his dad.”

Logan smiled proudly, nodding. “He’s better. He—” His watch buzzed repeatedly and he scrambled to check it. “It’s Janus,” he muttered, eyes wide.

“Go ahead,” Roman nodded. “Do you need privacy?” he asked, starting to pull away.

Without needing to think about it, Logan shook his head and threaded his arm through Roman’s, keeping him close. He tapped to answer the call and pressed the phone to the side of his face. “Hello?”

“Dismissed with prejudice!” Janus cheered over the phone and Logan squeezed Roman’s arm. Something between a laugh and a sob slipped past his lips and he nodded, smiling up at Roman.

“With prejudice? You’re sure?” Throat tight, Logan could barely whisper.

“What does that mean?” Roman asked, eyes wide.

Tears welling, he smiled and explained in a low voice. “The judge dismissed her case. It means she can’t ever pull this again.” 

“Lo, that’s amazing!” Roman’s mouth fell open in a wide smile. Drawing closer, he looped his other arm around his middle and squeezed. Logan leaned into him, the tension of the past few weeks, months, dissolving.

“And I quote,” Janus laughed. “‘Due to the preponderance of evidence provided by the defense, this case is dismissed in its entirety with prejudice. Identifying information for all named parties beyond the plaintiff and defendant’”—Janus dropped to a sotto voice—“That includes Roman and all three of your boys—’are to be stricken from the record and sealed. The court’s record will be expunged on August 15, 2026.’”

“When Patton’s eighteen,” he said, voice cracking. “Janus, this is…” His voice fell away and Janus continued.

“There’s more. ‘Given additional facts in evidence, the parenting agreement is heretofore modified to place all control over the plaintiff’s visitation schedule with her minor child’—name redacted—’at the sole discretion of said minor child and the child’s father, Logan Sanders.’”

Logan went quiet, processing the legalese, a tendril of hope choking out his pessimism. “Does…” How had Janus gotten that in? “Does that really mean….”

“It means Patton can see as little or as much of her as he wants.” Janus’ voice was gentle. “It’s completely up to him and to you, explicitly named as his father. There is zero wiggle room for her. No games, no loopholes.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered and stroked Roman’s arm.

“I haven’t even gotten to the part where the judge ripped her lawyer a new one for even taking this to court in the first place.” He laughed, and Logan couldn’t help a sweet brush of his own schadenfreude. “She issued a court order stating if he or anyone in his firm wasted the Court’s time with this sort of bigoted bullshit—her words—again, she’ll fine them for contempt of court.”

“Janus, this is incredible,” he murmured, hugging Roman’s arm with his head tucked under Roman’s chin. Some distant part of his mind was aware he was at risk of crossing a line, but when he loosened his grip, Roman simply patted his side and moved closer. And the rest of his mind only urged him nearer. “Thank you,” he said. “I couldn’t’ve done this without you.”

“I couldn’t’ve done it without you,” Janus said, his laughter falling away. “We were a team on this. I’m looking forward to our next case together. And now,” he said, cheerful again. “As my final official duty as your representation on this case, Mr. Sanders, I am advising you to go celebrate with your family and then come to my house next weekend so we can all celebrate together.”

“You’re on,” Logan chuckled. “Thank you.”

“I meant what I said before,” he laughed. “You make sure I get those ferrets and we’ll call it even. Byee!”

“Bye, Jan,” he got in just before Janus ended the call. Logan stared down at his phone, shock melting away to relief and he smiled up at Roman. “It’s really over.”

Roman smiled back at him, those luminous green eyes sparkling. He brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen over his glasses and whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Lo. I know how hard this has been for you.” Roman’s hand lingered near his cheek and he turned his face, leaning into the gentle touch just slightly. “You’ve been a warrior.”

He didn’t feel like a warrior. He’d been terrified and hurt and, some days, near-panicked that with one wrong move, his world would crumble underfoot. But then Roman would send a silly text or come by with flowers and a board game and…

“It’s easy to be strong with you by my side,” spilled out. Logan looked up, eyes wide and searching Roman’s to see if he’d assumed too much, said too much, and crossed a boundary. But Roman just smiled, warm fingers brushing his cheek.

In the low light, he positively glowed. His cheeks were flushed, but Logan noticed Roman’s lips were much paler than their usual pink hue. “Are… are you feeling alright?” Brow furrowed, Logan reached for his cheek. “Ro,” he pressed the back of his hand to Roman’s forehead. “You’re burning up!”

“I’m fine,” he shook his head, but blinked lazily. “A little achy, maybe.” He grinned. “Yesterday was arm day.”

“Father of three, remember?” Logan chuckled and ushered him into a seat out in the living room. “I know a fever when I see one. I’ll get the thermometer.”

Roman laughed, but sank into the armchair and let his head fall against the plush backrest. “If you insist, Doctor.”

“That’s better,” he said with a worried smile. 

Logan returned a moment later with both an oral and a forehead thermometer and crouched next to the chair, bringing himself to Roman’s eye level. Roman had sunk into the soft chair, listless, the last of whatever inner stubbornness that had kept him on his feet fading fast. “Calibrating?” he asked weakly, eyeing the devices. 

Shaking his head with a weak chuckle, Logan drew one device across Roman’s forehead to his temple. He frowned at the dial, a red glow spilling out over the back of his hand. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you felt more than a little achy.” He touched Roman’s forehead again, pushing back his curls and peering closely into his eyes.

“Hmm,” Roman hummed. “Your hands are nice and cool.” His lips curled in a slow smile even as he fought weighted eyelids.

“That’s what the two thermometers are for,” he nodded. “I can get you a cloth for your head. It will work best if you lie down, though.” 

Roman nodded, eyes finally closed. “Good idea. Now that you mention it, I… I am… a little tired, actually.”

“We’ll do that, though perhaps not here,” he said. “Jax is coming by soon. It will be chaotic downstairs. I…” Logan looked at the stairs, remembering the night Roman had so easily carried Patton up. He knew he was not capable of that. “Can you walk, if I help you?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, wincing. Logan draped one of Roman’s arms over his shoulders and helped him stand. Moving upright seemed to clear his head, at least a bit, and he kept his eyes open as they walked, even as he leaned heavily against Logan’s side. They stopped twice on the stairs when Roman got dizzy, but eventually made their way to Logan’s room.

“You can rest here,” he murmured, peeling back the corner of the covers before helping Roman sit on the edge of the bed.

A soft smile spread across Roman’s face and he sighed, eyes half-open. “Quiet in here,” he murmured. “Hmm, and smells like you.”

Blushing, Logan looked around the room. “If it’s stuffy, I can—I can open a window—”

“No… it’s nice,” he said. “I like it… You smell good.” Frowning, Roman started to lay back, then pushed himself up. “Help?” he asked, holding out his hands.

“Of course,” Logan rushed forward and took his hands to help him to his feet. Once upright, he fumbled with his belt buckle. 

“Jeans are too…”

“Oh.” Keeping his eye trained up, Logan helped him pull off his heavy denim jeans before quickly moving him back to the bed and covering him with the blanket. “Is… is that better?”

“Much more comfortable,” he mumbled.

“I’ll hang these and get a cloth for your forehead.” Logan tucked the blankets high over his chest. “We should get your temperature down a bit. It will help your headache.”

Roman smiled weakly, watching him through half-lidded eyes. “Okay.”

He lingered for several seconds, waiting to see if Roman really would be alright for a moment alone, then hurried off to the closet, then the ensuite to wet a cloth with cool water. He filled a Dixie cup, as well. The small sips of coffee Roman had had were not what he needed and if he could drink just a bit, he’d feel better for it. Logan’s reading chair was nearby and he nudged it closer until it was flush against the side of the bed.

“I’m going to put a cloth on your forehead now,” he murmured, fearful of shocking him with the sudden cold. Roman didn’t open his eyes, but smiled at the touch as he slowly set the folded cloth against his skin.

“Mm… ‘ank you…” he mumbled.

Logan brushed his hair from his face, then pulled away. Before he got far, though, Roman reached for him, one warm—Logan now realized, feverishly warm—hand wrapping around his. Roman brought it up to his lips and kissed it. “Lo…” he breathed, then grew quiet.

Certain he’d fallen asleep, Logan tugged gently, but Roman tightened his grasp. “Stay,” he whispered and pressed Logan’s hand to his cheek. “Please?”

“I’m right here, Ro,” he murmured, and dragged the chair closer with his other hand. “I’ll stay right here with you.”

~

“Here, Ro… Drink just a little more before you fall asleep again…”

“Mm-hm,” Roman nodded, humming again when the cool, sweet liquid hit his tongue. “‘S good,” he mumbled and curled back into the soft warmth around him. 

He was lying with Lo outside, bright sunshine on his face, head pillowed on Lo’s chest. Lo was warm and soft and his touch so gentle, so… so loving. Roman thought his heart would burst.

With Lo’s arms wrapped around him, the delicious scent of vanilla and cinnamon and musk in every breath, Roman was ensconced in him. It was peaceful and calm, singing birds and the boys’ happy voices in the distance.

It was perfect.

“One more sip, Ro, okay?” Lo urged.

“Anything for you…” With Logan in his arms, Roman didn’t need to say it, didn’t need to find his own words or borrow them from Shakespeare. He held Logan close and let the embrace speak for him.

I love you, Lo….

~

When Roman next opened his eyes, the room was dark and fuzzy. Something beeped and quickly faded, followed by a green glow and a little relieved sigh. “Re?” His throat was dry, his voice cracked and barely above a whisper.

“No, Ro, I’m sorry…” The gentle voice from his dream, firm hand at the back of his neck, cool liquid on his lips. He swallowed and leaned forward for more. Worried blue eyes swam into his vision. “It’s me, Logan.”

“Lo,” he smiled and let his eyes close again. “Hmm… I dreamt of you…”

“Really?” 

The surprise in his voice was sweet and he held him tighter. “All th’ time, Lo.” 

Roman blinked, eyes slowly focusing on the dark blue cotton pressed against his cheek. Oh. He wasn’t holding Logan. He was holding a pillow.

“Hmm… Where…” He pushed up and looked around. He was in bed, well, a bed. A small bowl, a mug, and a bottle of Gatorade sat on the nightstand near his head. The walls were a soft matte blue, and, with the exception of his jeans hanging from a hook on the back of the door and the small collection of dishes and thermometers on the nightstand, the room was sparse and tidy.

A thick book open and face down on his lap and a worried smile gracing his lips, Logan sat in a chair next to him. “Am I in your bedroom?”

Logan nodded. “I… I hope you do not mind. You were… a little out of it from the fever last night.” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. “I… I managed to walk you up here and… and you fell asleep. I, um…” He blushed, a soft pink that matched his lips. “You… you wanted your jeans off. I… ah… hope that’s alright.”

“It’s okay, Lo…” He reached out and patted blindly, hand brushing over Logan’s knee. “Thank you for helping me. Boxers probably cover more than the ones I wear on my runs, anyway.”

“Indeed,” he said with a little laugh, cheeks brightening.

“Oh!” Roman chuckled and his own face grew warm as his brain kicked into a higher gear and he remembered which pair Logan might have caught a glimpse of. “I’m wearing the ones with little smiling hearts all over them, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Logan nodded.

“You know, I usually…” He scrabbled for dignity then shook his head. He was half naked in his… Logan’s bed where he’d been hugging his pillow like it was him. He had no dignity left. Surprisingly, he was okay with that. “Who am I kidding? I’m a sucker for novelty boxers.” He huffed out a little laugh. “The cornier the better.”

“I thought they were sweet.” Logan poured more Gatorade in a cup and helped him drink. “Besides, I have been known to favor a set with a TARDIS print,” he smiled, taking the glass when he was done.

The Gatorade helped. Roman laughed, eyes dancing with mischief. “So would you say then, it’s… bigger on the inside?”

Logan’s eyes flew wide open, one hand jerking up to cover his mouth. But before Roman could apologize for the off-color remark, Logan had doubled over in laughter. Every few breaths, he would sit up, gasping for air, only to collapse in the most adorable giggles again.

There was a knock at the door and Remy poked his head in, concern quickly turning to his own grin. “Oh, you’re laughing.” He looked over his shoulder, “Emile, they’re okay.”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Roman nodded, struggling to speak past his own laughter. 

Logan beckoned him in. “Sorry to worry you,” he managed before another giggle burst out that he tried to wave away. “We’re absolutely fine.”

“I see that,” Remy chuckled. “Glad you’re feeling a little better, Ro.”

“Thanks to your dad’s care,” he nodded, reaching to brush his fingers over Logan’s where they rested on the edge of the bed. 

“He’s good at that. Do either of you need anything?”

Blushing, Logan glanced at Roman, who shook his head. “No, but thank you, Rem.” 

“If you change your mind, we’re here.” He waved as he closed the door. “Goodnight, you two.”

“I thought he was going to warn us to keep both feet on the floor,” he started to laugh but then the rest of what Remy said sank in. “Wait—How long—”

Logan smiled, sort of. It was almost a wince. “You’ve been mostly asleep for a good twenty hours or so.”

“Oh,” he said.

“You got up twice, ah,” he shrugged and looked toward an attached bathroom. “But you were barely awake. Your fever finally broke about two hours ago.” 

Roman lay back against the pillows and nodded. “Wow, I… I haven’t been knocked on my ass with a fever in a… long time.”

“Are you hungry?” Logan scooted forward in his chair and looked ready to fetch him anything he asked.

“Hmm…” Roman shook his head. His eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. “Maybe later. I’m okay just like this.” With Logan an arm’s reach away and nestled in his bed, the gentle spicy vanilla scent of his hair surrounding him, he was more than okay.

“Some nurse I am,” Logan chuckled, checking his temperature. “I’ve worn you out.” He smiled and refreshed the cloth in the little bowl before laying it over his forehead.

The cloth was cool against skin, and Logan’s gentle brushes through his hair were even better. It soothed the lingering throbbing under his skull and he let it lull him back into a comfortable haze. “That feels really good,” he murmured and tried to stifle a yawn. “I… I am getting tired. But… good tired.” Logan’s bed was soft and cozy and just the thought of moving was draining. 

He looked up at Logan’s eyes, those sharp blue eyes watching him for any sign of distress or pain while adjusting the cloth perfectly over his head. “Would it be alright if… if I… I stayed?”

“No,” Logan grinned, eyes dancing. “I’m going to make you walk home.” He chuckled as he smoothed the covers and fluffed up his pillows. “Of course you’re staying here tonight. I’ve been checking in with Remus. He knows you’re safe. I’ll call him again about tonight,” he murmured, pulling away.

Roman caught his hand before he got too far away and brought it close to his mouth, brushing his knuckles back and forth over his lips as he pushed his sluggish brain to cooperate.

“Thank you, Lo. For looking out for me again.” He grinned, suddenly giddy, and pressed Logan’s hand to his heart. “For taking care of me.”

“No, Ro,” Logan shook his head, smiling. “No, we…” Soft, cool fingers stroked his hand. Something flashed in Logan’s eyes and his smile brightened, his entire face blooming like a wildflower in the sun. “We take care of each other.”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded. It was becoming difficult to keep his eyes open. “We do.”

“Rest now, Roman,” Logan whispered, brushing back his hair as his eyes fluttered and the room went dark. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

-

Taglist @crossiantgay @emoprincey

Ask to be added :-)

[soysaucevictim]

Legs and foreshortening’s the bane of my existence. But hell, going to work on this some more maybe after that Muse!Patton fic is done.

Anyways, here’s just some more Gymrat!Dukexiety brainrot from me.

(I’ve had access to my desk since late last November... I REALLY want to make some polished art again. Kicking that can down the road again, ‘cause my motivation/exec-fxn/focus and Creativities being real fickle lately.)

[hyperfixated-homo]

its missing old sasi aus/fics hours everyone

[southern--downpour]

cities are my own personal enemy why do i keep wanting to draw them

[expolikestoart]

Final day, good ol 7: Imagination.

I think Roman's favorite Epcot ride is Journey into the Imagination. (old one(1983) not currrent) Virgil and Janus go on it are tired of it.

@anaroceitweek

[weegee32235]

art time

herbert and klutzy, my two favorite pengy chracters

variations one and two above

and below, variation third

[yeoldenews]

For all my fellow name nerds out there, I am very pleased to present the second annual "Gloyd Roberson Memorial List of Actual Human Children Who Wrote Letters to Santa in 1920s/30s Oklahoma".

These aren’t all necessarily “weirder than Gloyd” but fall into three rough categories which I’ve dubbed: “that’s got a nice ring to it”, “if I used this in a novel it would be considered too unrealistic” and “you’ve got 5 seconds to name a character that lives in 1920s Oklahoma, GO!”:

Selvyn Atteberry

Dyer Banfield

Bert Baxter

Hilda Bender

Imogene Berry

Heloise Blakely

Burl Boyer

Clyda Pearl Boyington

Okal Brooks

Vada Jo Bricker

Deverett Brumley

Lee Roy Buck

Vivian May Burdue

Donnie Buster

Elmarie Button

Junior Buzzard

Melchor Caldex

Tycene Calhoun

Tiny Bell Callison

Dapalene Caywood

Edney Clopton

Buster Combs

Georgia Countryman

Vantruba Crockett

Alto Day

Buddie DeWayne

Violet Divine

Elwanda Downing

Cletys Durham

Thurlo Epps

Apple Fields

Floyd Fleetwood

Metherine Franklin

Ula Fay French

Wanda Jo Fronterhouse

Irline Fuller

Jack Gritzmaker

J. D. Grizzle

Billie Jean Gulley

Joline Hardcastle

Kaloolah Herrill

Thelias Hatfield

Elva Heavins

Coleman Hewlett

Helen Hillhouse

Virgil Holderby

Katymae Houston

Myree Huffstutlar

Estelline Hurrypack

Blondie Huhm

Lila Lou Jackson

Denver Jones

Vernell Lambert

Sonny Boy Lockart

Dinkey Long (autocorrect really wanted this to be Donkey Kong)

Bamma Lynn

Rep Madden

Standford Mann

Jack Mattingly

Goldia McGee

Madge Messinger

Mauzell Mullins

Jeffie Wayne Muskrat

Archibald Neighbors

Hazel Nickerson

Eulah Oakley

Lyle Oyler

Milburn Partain

Jackson Payne

Montana Phillips

Bobbie Dean Phoenix

Toots Putman

Madonna Mae Rickey

Cyprine Robertson

Juanelle Schneeberger

Billie Jean Sparks

Texanna Smith

Pansy Stetson

Patsy Ruth Stubblefield

Eldon Sweezy

Hoy Trotter

Pearl Vandorien

Leland Weems

Joe Bob West

Wayness Whitely

Buster Wyatt

John Ira Youngblood

Domby Zinn

[theonion]

CHICAGO—Following a widely shared post that sparked debate and confusion among online factions of every stripe, the internet was reportedly divided Thursday over a video that documented a Black cop shooting a white cop for choking out a racist white woman who had just called the police on some Black teenagers. “This one’s a real thinker,” said local 34-year-old Virgil Hicking, who was among the thousands of commenters to respond to the video and who explained that while he definitely wanted to condemn the police violence, one cop was really just trying to stop the other cop from being violent, and that cop was in turn reacting to a racist who had put the lives of Black kids in danger by getting the cops involved in the first place. 

Full story.

[grandtimetravelchaos]

Sanders sides office au (Not the show just them working in a random office)

Logan's the CEO

Roman's Logan's personal assistant (he wants to be an actor but does this until he gets his break)

Virgil and Patton have regular office jobs (patton's kinda a personality hire)

Janus is the head of HR slowly losing his mind trying to prove Logan and Patton are secretly dating

Remy's the receptionist

Remus is the janitor

Roman is Logan's personal assistant but likes to go above and beyond and do stuff for everyone around the office like helping print patton's paper work or buying everyone coffee

Virgil hates Roman. His vibe is just off.

Roman and Remy are freimeies

Roman and Patton are work besties

Roman and Logan are friends from high school

Roman has full access to Logan's weekly planner and just adds stuff like 'Tuesday morning brunch with ro and pat' and 'don't go to Thursday's meeting the hot intern's not coming

But despite his slight mischief he's absolutely essential. At some point he leaves for a week with out warning because of a family emergency or something which would be fine, except Logan's become really quite dependent on Roman for almost everything even non work related things. So that whole week Logan's showing up late to work like "I couldn't decide what to have for breakfast and I spent so long deciding I missed my bus and didn't end up eating anything" and he's missing meetings and work lunches and being generally cranky cause he doesn't have time to buy himself coffee so he's exhausted and when roman finally comes back Logan storms up to him all angry and says "you've ruined me! I used to be so capable and now without you I'm a bumbling fool and Roman just laughs and claps him on the shoulder "like aw I love you to spark point"

Also Logan and Patton totally do have a secret relationship, they just make out in Logan's office with the blinds drawn

Remy barely ever shows up for work but when he does he's hung over and screaming into his phone gossiping

Logan's always trying to raise office moral with silly work lunches but eventually Patton just takes over cause Logan's awful at it and they start going to pottery barns and laser tag

Eventually Virgil and Roman do become friends and their hangouts mostly consist of going to waffle house at 2am and getting drunk in taco bell parking lots

[shapa-likes-art]

(Image description in alt Text.)

Hello :3

This was drawn when I was frustrated still at the summer heat and I procrastinated coloring and rendering it so here we are

This was also sparked with a conversation with Skye ( @thunderholtz ) and I where we joked that Roman and Virgil would still try to cuddle and stick to one another even in the summer heat because they're too cuddly bsjsvdbs

Taglist: @roseianxiety @vash-the-trans-catboy @angstysunshine @treeni @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @gattonero17 @anxious-chaos-art @cyclonepossibly @parksthefrog @cutebisexualmess @thedeadandthedecaying @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti

Tell me if you want to be added to removed from the taglist!

Reblogs are highly appreciated

[gumnut-logic]

A scene

Attempted to write some fic tonight. Unfortunately I have no brain, so it isn’t great.

The original idea was sparked by the lovely @idontknowreallywhy whose cat is very fond of Scott Tracy. How that relates to this scrappy bit of fic is debatable, but that was the spark and this was the beginning of what I wrote…I have more, but it isn’t working very well…I need to revise it once I find my brain.

I’m posting this bit because I haven’t posted fic in over a week.

I hope you like these few words.

-0-0-0-

“Woah! Virg!”

Gordon yelped and John dove as the stream of flame shot out at them, his brain calculating exactly how much their uniforms could take when tackled by a flamethrower.

Not much.

He held his breath, curled up on the dirty concrete, waiting for the heat to hit.

But it didn’t.

He cracked an eye open to find Virgil still standing but wobbling unsteadily. The makeshift flamethrower, still dropping sparks, hung in his hands, limp but easily ready.

“Leave him alone!” Virgil screamed at them.

“Okay, okay.” Gordon uncurled slowly, holding up both his hands as if in surrender.

“You’re not hurting him anymore.” The words were almost whimpered. Virgil turned to look at the crumpled body behind him. “No one! No one! No one is going to hurt him anymore.”

John eyed his unconscious eldest brother, sprawled against the wall of the ancient warehouse. His face was a mess of bruises, his uniform torn, and it was obvious Virgil had done his best to bind an injured arm at some point. Dirt and grim blurred the blue of his uniform.

Virgil himself was clearly only barely on his feet. He was swaying where he stood, blood dripping down the side of his face. The flamethrower was a makeshift mass of steel canister and pipes, very much slapped together in a hurry.

His brother’s engineer brains in every line.

Gordon was looking at John for direction - he had command.

“Virgil?” John’s kept his voice quiet and gentle. “Virgil, we want to help. I want to help.”

Virgil turned towards John and peered at him as if he was trying to see through smoke. “Johnny?”

“Yes. You’re safe now. I-“

“No! No! Not again. Not again!” And John had to throw himself to the ground again as the flamethrower lit up, Virgil yelling incoherently at the top of his lungs.

TBC

[delimeful]

a still-glowing ember (3)

warnings: panic, guilt, injury mention, mentions of assumed character death (mistaken), arguing, lmk if i missed any

-

Virgil had spent nearly half the night attempting to coax the sprite’s spark back into something resembling a healthy state, feeling his stress levels spike unbearably with every pained twitch his unconscious patient had made. Working to heal someone that small, even with the assistance of magic, was no simple feat. It had been hours of exacting, meticulous work that had left him exhausted.

So, naturally, mere moments after Virgil finally called the job done, crawled into bed, and managed to fall asleep, the little idiot woke up and started shrieking loud enough to wake the dead.

Virgil had left the sprite on an extra pillow next to him, one of his hands cupped over the tiny figure to monitor any sudden changes in temperature, which basically meant that he’d gotten an unwanted earful at close range.

For someone who’d barely been able to string two words together before, the sprite certainly had a set of lungs on him. Stars almighty, that was loud.

“Will you cut that out?” he groaned with his face still half-mushed into his pillow, only earning himself an alarmed, shrill whistle-chirp and frantic scrabbling under his hand in response. Ugh. Sprites.

Did the guy not remember Virgil literally going to embarrassing lengths to save his life a handful of hours ago, or something?

Well. Actually, thinking back, he was pretty sure the sprite had been more-or-less unconscious at that point, only latching onto Virgil’s proffered magic after much nudging and coaxing of that terrifyingly unresponsive form. Maybe he actually didn’t recall any of that.

In that case, he had a little more sympathy. Not enough to keep him from pushing up onto his elbows and sending the noisy creature a nasty glare, but enough that he didn’t jump directly to mostly-facetious threats on the sprite’s life. See? Forget what everyone who’d ever met him had said, he was a master of restraint and compassion.

“Seriously, pipe down. I’m trying to sleep over here.” Okay, so not that much compassion.

The sprite’s wings were aggressively fluffed up behind him, meaning they hadn’t turned into frostbitten hunks of flesh and fallen off in the night, which was good. Virgil knew elemental beings were far more resistant to physical damage than most mortal types were, but feeling someone so iced-over always brought around that old panic anyhow.

Mostly assured that the sprite wasn’t going to keel over the moment he wasn’t in contact with him, Virgil retracted his hand entirely, leaving the sprite sprawled out on the pillow, breathing hard as his bedraggled feathers puffed up further. Virgil shifted into his fluffier form, as though his fur coat would chase away even the memory of the chill, and curled up more firmly, wrapping his tail around his paws. If he could just get a few more minutes of rest…

“I’ve been abducted,” the sprite said to himself, the words starting as a near whisper and slowly growing to a near wail. “I was nearly frozen, hunted for sport, and now I’ve been kidnapped away for my transgressions!”

Uggghh. He shifted back, mostly for ease of speech, and rolled his eyes when the sprite tried to scramble back and mostly just tripped over himself.

“I didn’t kidnap you,” he grumbled, turning his head to stare with one half-lidded eye. “I basically saved your life, actually, so maybe you should be a little more gracious.”

“Gracious?!” the sprite echoed in a shriek that was far too high-pitched for Virgil’s sleep deprivation-fried brain. “I’m fairly certain you threatened to end my life, not preserve it!”

Now, that much was probably true. Even if he hadn’t meant it, he certainly might have said something along those lines. He tended to get a little snappish when he was irritated, and also when it was cold out, and also when people bothered him in his own damn territory.

In short, the sprite had been dealt an extremely unlucky hand last night, in regards to Virgil specifically. And… intentional or not, he had almost gotten the tiny idiot killed.

He still remembered how his spiteful satisfaction at scaring the living daylights out of a rude intruder had slowly begun to shift into a creeping feeling of dread as the sprite utterly failed to do anything resembling normal flying, let alone escaping. The moment his fingers had wrapped around that ice-cold frame, the apprehension had abruptly firmed into the certainty that something was terribly wrong.

No creature of fire should ever feel so still and icy, especially not a lively, quick-burning sprite.

Virgil’s ears pressed flat against his skull, his guilt swamping him again. He supposed he probably at least owed the guy an explanation. Uuuuggghhhh.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told the sprite, tucking his hands under himself in an act of goodwill. “I know we got off on the wrong foot—,”

“The wrong foot?! An upside-down centipede has less wrong feet than our meeting!” the sprite screeched, continuing to be far more verbose when he wasn’t in the middle of freezing to death. Funny how that worked.

“Okay, fine,” Virgil cut in. “I heavily implied that I was going to murder you, but in my defense, I had no idea you were actually in a prime state to be murdered at the time, and also I’d been having a really bad night.”

The sprite stared at him like he was insane, and Virgil felt his shoulders rise to hunch up around his ears. This was why he didn’t talk to people.

“You had a bad night?!” the sprite asked in a near-shout, his tone incredulous.

The indignant question was accompanied by a twitch of movement, like the sprite had attempted to throw his arms up in an exasperated gesture only to find one limb restrained. He looked down at the sling around his injured arm, blinking in bewilderment.

“Okay, that one wasn’t my fault,” Virgil protested preemptively. “You were already like that when I— hey, hey! Don’t jostle it, jeez!”

He reached forward despite himself, gently batting the sprite’s hand away from the sling. Naturally, he earned himself a buffeting slap from one of those tiny wings for his good deed, but going by the horrified stare the sprite sent his own appendage, Virgil was fairly sure the motion had been entirely instinctual.

“Seriously, don’t mess with that,” he instructed, slowly withdrawing once it became clear that the sprite had gone stock-still with fear. “It took me ages to put together a sling that tiny, let alone tie it. Just leave it be.”

The sprite’s face pinched with uncertainty. “You made this? Why?”

There it was, the exact question he’d been trying to avoid. Great, just great.

He shrugged, faux-casual. “Maybe I just didn’t want some random pesky sprite dropping dead in my stretch of woods. Bad for the decor or whatever.”

The sprite narrowed his eyes at him, clearly not buying it.

“Look,” Virgil said, trying to head off the accusations of nefarious plots that he could practically see on the tip of the sprite’s tongue, “I clearly could have murdered you, and I didn’t, so can we just agree to not ask any more questions and part ways as unfriendly strangers?”

“What did you mean, you were having a bad night?” the sprite asked, apparently deciding to completely ignore Virgil’s very reasonable suggestion.

“I mean, I was having a bad night,” Virgil repeated with the slightest growl to the words. “I got robbed by annoying pixies twice, and now I’m going to have to go repair those boundary markers and make sure that nothing snuck in while they were down, which means I’ll have to waste a whole day just scouring the forest when I have winter supplies to be storing—,”

“Twice?” the sprite echoed, face pinching even further into a confused frown. “I only stole one boundary marker— and under severe duress, with all intention of returning the pilfered power once I had recovered at home!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, ignoring the tacked-on excuses. “Yeah, but you were the second sprite to do that. Like, my bad for thinking both times were you, but in my defense, the other sprite looked pretty damn similar—,”

“There was another sprite?” the sprite interrupted again, and this time he didn’t even seem to notice Virgil’s annoyed growl, his entire body gone tense with a sudden sharp focus. “You’re sure?”

Virgil frowned, a foreboding feeling creeping up on him. “Yeah, especially with what you just said. In hindsight, there were signs that the two of you were different. You were tripping over your words, while the first guy nearly woke the whole forest with all the maniacal shrieking laughter.”

“Remus,” the sprite whispered with wide eyes, his hands fisting in the loose fabric of the pillow. “Did you see which way he went?”

For the first time, he was leaning toward Virgil, practically hanging on his every word as he sought the answer.

“I dunno, north-ish?” Virgil replied, ears flicking back in slight bewilderment. “I wasn’t exactly close enough to catch him. What, do you know the guy or— woah! What are you doing?”

The sprite had pushed himself to his feet in one determined motion, and now pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance atop the soft surface of the pillow. His wings were lifting sluggishly into position, like he actually thought the ragged limbs would carry him anywhere in his current state.

Virgil hovered a hand nearby, prepared to catch the idiot when he want toppling down, but the sprite ducked away.

“I’m going to go find my brother,” the sprite spat, looking as though he’d like nothing better than for Virgil to try and stop him. “He’s out there, alone!”

The sense of foreboding doubled. The odds of a fire sprite, even one ballsy enough to steal three territory markers, surviving a winter storm all through the night were extremely low.

“If you go out there in this state, the only thing you’ll accomplish is crashing and dislocating your other shoulder,” he warned, trying to soften the bite in his voice as much as possible. “The forest is huge. There’s no way you’ll find him, wherever he is.”

Whatever condition he’s in, Virgil didn’t add, because even he had some tact.

“I don’t care,” the sprite said, chin lifted stubbornly as he started taking wobbly steps down the side of the pillow, heading for the edge of the bed. “He’s my brother. I’m not going to just abandon him!”

Virgil groaned. There was virtually no way the other sprite was alive, but there was no point telling his guest that, not when the tremble to his chin showed that he was already well aware, and determined to see this through anyhow.

…At the very least, anyone who’d lost family deserved the closure of finding their body.

The sprite reached the edge of the bed and surveyed the drop, lifting his shaking wings into position to catch the den’s still air the best they could.

With a sigh, Virgil reached out and wrapped his hand around the sprite before he could jump, lifting him up into the air despite his furious protests.

“What’s your name?” he asked, and the non-sequitur was enough to grab the sprite’s attention for at least a moment.

“It’s Roman,” he snapped, and the way his wings were smacking at Virgil’s hand in protest were entirely purposeful, this time. “Now, let me go—!”

“Okay, Roman, look. You’re going to get yourself killed if you go alone,” Virgil informed him. “And seeing as I just spent a ridiculous amount of time preventing your untimely demise, I’ll be really irritated if you kick the bucket now.”

Roman’s face screwed up with clear anger, but before he could start shouting, Virgil set him down solidly on his shoulder, making sure that he was well balanced before releasing him.

“So,” he continued, swinging his legs around to stand himself, “if you promise not to yell directly in my ear, I guess I can keep all that hard work from going to waste by going with you.”

He could practically hear the way Roman’s brain ground to a halt, struggling to shift gears. “You’re going to help me?”

Virgil shrugged his unoccupied shoulder, heading for his den’s entryway. “Might as well. It’s not like it’ll be too difficult to track down the scent, if he smells anywhere near as strong as you.”

Roman laughed, a short, surprised bark. “He— Trust me, he’s much worse.”

“Ugh, great,” Virgil replied with a wrinkle of his nose, and tried not to think about what they’d do whenever they did find whatever was left of Roman’s brother.