#and who is the person that trained virgil?

[andersdotters]

The interesting thing about Spina Di Rosula is that while they are an organization that seems like a force for good for the most part (despite having a mafia aesthetic), they also hire "cleaners" and set bounties wanted dead or alive.

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 6: Baiting the Trap

Wordcount: 1.8K

~~~~

Virgil is woken by his alarm and has never once in his entire life been less interested in getting out of bed.

He's comfortable. The bed is soft, the blankets are warm, and Virgil is sleepy and wants nothing more than to just lie here forever.

He snoozes the alarm and drifts back off.

Five minutes later, of course, he's dragged back out of sleep by the insistent melody.

Virgil seriously considers quitting his job so he doesn't have to ever leave this bed, but he does actually need money to buy groceries and pay his rent, and also his hosts have been real gracious but even their patience would surely wear thin if Virgil never left.

So, regrettably, Virgil sits up. He yawns. He longingly contemplates lying back down, but forces himself instead to get out of bed.

At some point in the night, someone—Patton, presumably—had returned his cleaned clothes, which are now sitting folded on the floor by the foot of the bed. Virgil dresses. He folds the borrowed pajamas and sets them on the foot of the bed. He doesn't usually fold his pajamas, but it seems like the polite thing to do in this case. After a moment, he makes the bed too.

And then he goes downstairs.

They're all in the dining room again, and they give him breakfast, and this time he's calm enough to appreciate it.

Princey drives him to work, and he has an otherwise normal day. He borrows a clean apron, and he makes a lot of coffee. He eats lunch at the shop, he takes the bus home, he has leftover spaghetti for dinner, and he does that load of laundry.

His bed seems even harder and lumpier than usual, contrasted with the memory of the bed—no, the actual literal cotton candy cloud—he'd slept on last night.

At least it makes it easier to get out of bed in the morning, when staying isn't bliss. If only by a little. Virgil is not and has never been a morning person. Still, he manages to actually catch the bus for the first time this week, so that's good.

Their newbie’s here for her second day of training, which means that Virgil splits his time between his usual duties and showing her the ropes. She's wary of the fancy coffee machines, and looks attentive but intimidated when Virgil walks her through one of the more simple brews.

She does better with the register. Its layout is also unfamiliar, but at least the potential worst-case consequences of pressing the wrong button are much less severe than “breaking an expensive machine” or “third degree burns and coffee everywhere.”

Several hours into Virgil’s shift, his manager joins him in the back while he's on break.

“There's someone out front looking for you,” Morgan tells him.

“Who?” Virgil asks.

“Nobody I recognized,” Morgan says with a bit of a frown. “Said he was a friend of yours though.”

“Did he give you a name?” Virgil asks, and Morgan's frown deepens.

“No, and I asked,” she says. “I said to him, ‘and you are?’ and he said ‘oh I'm roamin’ like that's an answer, so I prompts him, ‘yer name?’ and he just says ‘yeah’. So seeing as he's decided to just be evasive I told him he could order something or he could leave, but he couldn't hold up the line any longer, so he bought a coffee. Paid in cash, too, so I didn't get to see his name on the card neither.”

“He said he was roaming?” Virgil asks, gears turning.

“Yeah, ’cept he ain't, he sat down with his coffee,” Morgan answers.

“Brown hair?” Virgil asks, fighting back a rising laugh. “Maybe bout this tall, looks a bit like Remus if he ever shaved and combed his hair?”

Morgan nods. “Do you want me to get rid of him?”

Virgil pinches his lips together and shakes his head. Morgan squints at him.

“And what exactly is so funny?” she asks.

The laugh spills out of him. “Sor– sorry, Morgue,” he says. “I think you misheard him. His name’s Roman.”

“What, like Greeks and Romans?”

“I think so,” Virgil says, still grinning. “He's Remus’s brother.”

“I see,” Morgan says. “Well, if you don't want me to get rid of him, do you want to talk to him, or stay back here til he leaves? Lexi and I can handle the customers for a while yet if you don't wanna see him.”

“Nah, I'll go see what he wants.”

Roman is sitting in one of the booths, sipping a coffee and staring dramatically out the window. He turns as Virgil approaches, and then perks up. “Finding Emo!” he says. “Your coworkers said they had never heard of you in their lives. I was starting to think I’d gone to the wrong coffee shop.”

“Nah, just being protective,” Virgil says, sliding into the booth across the table from Roman. “We don’t give that kind of information to customers.” They’d had problems with stalkers trying to get information on employees before, and one bewildering man who’d kept coming round looking for someone Virgil had genuinely never heard of, til Morgan banned him from the shop. “What’s up?”

“So we realized your bike is still at our house,” Roman says. “I wanted to see if you’d like a ride over to get it back. Also if you would be interested in watching more Unfortunate Events, because we left off at a really climactic bit, and I know I already know what happens next, but I want to know what happens next, you know?”

“I definitely want my bike back,” Virgil says. He glances at the clock. “I don’t get off for a while yet today, but if you want to come back around five?”

Roman nods. “And movies?” he asks eagerly.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Virgil says. “I don’t want to bike home in the dark.”

“Oh of course,” Roman says. “I'd never force you to do that.”

Virgil glances back toward Morgan and Lexi at the counter. They’re busy with customers, but the line isn’t very long. Lexi catches his glance and grins at him with a little wave.

“Do you need to get back to work?” Roman asks.

“Not yet,” Virgil decides, settling more comfortably into his seat. “I’ve got a few minutes left before my break ends.”

~

Roman returns just before five, as Virgil’s getting ready to hand off the machines to the next shift. He orders three coffees to go “and whatever Virgil would like,” with a wink in Virgil’s direction.

Virgil rolls his eyes and makes himself a hot chocolate, which he sips on the drive back to Roman’s house. The sun is already dipping toward the horizon, so it looks like there isn't going to be time for tv before he has to bike home. It's a shame, because he really was looking forward to it.

“We’re home!” Roman calls as he opens the door from the garage into the rest of the house to lead Virgil in. As they cross the threshold, Virgil is hit with a nearly tangible wall of scent, stopping him in his tracks. The air smells rich and warm and delicious. He can smell fresh bread, and roasted meat, and something sweet, all mingled together into a tantalizing aroma that makes his mouth water and his stomach perk up eagerly.

“Oh good!” someone Virgil can’t see calls back. “Great timing!”

Roman pulls his jacket off and hangs it on a hook by the door. “It smells great in here!” he says brightly, heading deeper into the house. Virgil manages to unglue his feet from the floor and finally closes the door behind himself and follows Roman.

Calico is putting a steaming dish onto the table when they enter the dining room. “Welcome home,” he says fondly. “Dinner's just about ready.”

“Oh good, I'm hungry,” Roman says. “It smells fabulous, darling.”

Calico beams, eyes scrunching up with it. “Thank you,” he says.

“We brought coffee,” Roman adds, and hands Patton one of the to-go cups. “Your Chemical Romance made this just for you.”

“Aww,” Patton says, smiling heart-meltingly at Virgil. “Thank you.”

Virgil finger-guns awkwardly back at him with his free hand. “No problem.” Making coffee is literally his job. Roman was the one who had paid for it, and picked the flavor.

Then Patton notices what Virgil had put on the side of the cup instead of his name. “Aww!” he exclaims. “You drew me a kitty!”

“Yeah, I figured– you like cats, right?”

Patton looks up at him with shining eyes. “That is paws-itively precious. Thank you so much!”

“Please do not keep the empty cup just because there is a cute cat on it,” Logan says. Roman hands him his own coffee, on which Virgil had drawn a robot face and a triangle science beaker. “Thank you. We do not need additional clutter in our home, Patton.”

Patton pouts at him. “But look, it's so sweet!” he says. “Look at this precious little kitten drawn specifically for me and tell me that you want to throw her in the trash!”

Logan sighs. “At least cut the picture out of the cup instead of keeping the entire thing,” he says.

“Deal!” Patton agrees cheerfully.

“Sorry,” Virgil says. He had not expected Calico to appreciate the art to quite that extreme. He might've put more effort into it if he had.

“No need,” Logan replies. “This is hardly the first time something like this has occurred, and I hold no illusions that it will be the last.”

“Sure won't!” Patton agrees shamelessly.

“Um, so where's my bike at?” Virgil asks after a moment.

“By the door still,” Roman says, taking a seat at the table. “Do you wanna sit next to me again?”

Virgil just now notices that the table is set with four plates. “You… want me to stay for dinner?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course,” Roman says, now looking puzzled himself. “Why would I bring you to dinner and then not want you to stay and eat?”

They hadn't discussed him coming to dinner. They had planned for him to retrieve his bike, and perhaps watch tv with Roman, but the topic of dinner hadn't come up.

Virgil means to say no, that he had better get going, but it does smell so very good, and they did set a spot for him, and he is hungry, and if he goes home now he'll have to figure out some other meal and honestly it's not going to be anything fancier than frozen pizza and fries, or maybe just ramen since that would be faster.

“Okay,” Virgil says, and sits next to Roman.

~~~~

Chapter 7: How They Kept Him Very Well

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 15

⚠️ Trigger Warning for angst/whump

❤️💚💜🩷 🚒🧑‍🚒

There was something unnerving about seeing the strongest person she knew, crumpled unconscious on the floor.

Tam found him cocooned around his Grandmother - sleeping soundly like a child who had sought out the comfort of a parent during a storm.

It all seemed so peaceful, but for the obvious devastation peppered over, and around them. And, of course, the glaring fact that Virgil was, indeed, unconscious, and not asleep.

Her heart panged hard, as she finally remembered to breathe, her chest shuddering with the deep inhalation.

The family didn't deserve this - well, most people didn't; but, it went double for the Tracys. It wasn't so much that they put their lives on the line on a daily basis; that debt of gratitude went without saying. It was perhaps the fact that she'd had the privilege of spending time with the family during her training; breaking bread with them in the evenings, sharing new stories she hadn't heard at the firehouse a gazillion-plus times. Somewhere during their training, Phoenix had shed their associate titles and had emerged as friends; which made this rescue so much harder than her average John or Jane Doe.

"Mrs. Tracy?"

"Told yer a thousand times kid; Sally suits me just fine. Mrs.Tracy is reserved for our shareholders, and Brains - who I've given up trying to change.

"Sally," she corrected herself, feeling a sudden warmth fill her face.

"How are you holding up?" Tam scrambled to unpack her medkit.

"I'll be a lot better once this brave idiot is off me. Can't breathe."

Tam paused a moment, and frowned. Virgil's weight was only partially resting on Sally; his body angled in such a manner as not to crush her. She wondered briefly if that had been at all planned on Virgil's part.

"Level with me kid, what are you thinking?"

Tam had a lot of time for Sally; she was brave, kind-hearted and wonderfully feisty - especially given her age, which she guessed was a taboo topic, here on Tracy Island. The woman was also far too sharp-witted to have the wool pulled over her eyes.

She sighed, continuing to work, as she analyzed the scene before her.

"I think the initial impact of your fall may be the real reason behind the pain you have breathing. Virgil's been careful to lie in a way that would not crush you."

"Sure sounds like him. So?"

"So...we need to check for injuries."

There was a confidence in her voice that she did not feel - or rather, she was confident about things; procedures, protocol, her job. But, inwardly, having not one, but numerous people she cared about (more than she perhaps should, given the amount of time she'd actually spent in their company) she'd admit it; this rescue had her shook. Tam buried the feeling deep, and ran the scan.

"How're they doing?"

Tam looked up from the scan to see the youngest Tracy approaching.

"Alan?" Sally's voice rasped out.

"Sally, you have three broken ribs; but as far as I can see, they've not caused any significant injuries to the surrounding area,"

She passed the med-scanner to Alan, who concurred.

"Well, Grandma; I'd say that's earned you a VIP stay in Tracy Island's very own infirmary. Don't worry, I've heard the doctors there are very good-looking!"

"I wasn't aware that Kip was a doctor too!"

"What? Eww! No!"

Grandma's chuckle was instantly switched for a grimace of pain.

Alan gently rescued a hand on her shoulder.

"Hel-p Vir-gil," she breathed.

"Tam's doing just that, Grandma. Penny and myself will look after you. It'll give Tam the space she needs to properly help Virg."

A hover stretcher, followed by a well-spoken lady appeared. And, before-long, Sally, Alan, and the woman - Penny vanished. Tam couldn't exactly say when. Her attention now firmly on the one member of International Rescue who had yet to regain consciousness.

[heyhihellosworld]

𝗛𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀

Trent Alexander-Arnold x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Trent isn't very good at keeping your relationship a secret, especially not around his noisy teammates.

Warnings: Just fluff and a small hint of angst but not really

Notes: Trent is literally my favorite person to write for x

The training was finally done and all Trent wanted to do now was go home and snuggle up to you. He was tired and wet, the cloudy day not lifting his mood in any way.

He threw his phone down on the bench not caring that it went past his bag before going to the showers.

He was the quickest getting ready, throwing his clothes down and drying off his hair before lacing his shoes, ready to go when Henderson stopped him.

"Hey, don't forget your ph-" he cut himself off as the screen lit up "Hey who is this?" he questioned, turning the phone up to study it for real. Andy who was next to Henderson leaned over to look for himself while Trent stood frozen.

"Hey let me see" Virgil cut in, and soon everybody was passing the phone around, everyone staring at Trent who looked around the room, his tongue poking out from the side.

"Wait, is that-is that y/n?!" Virgil exclaimed as he got the phone again, studying it really close causing Henderson and Ox to throw themselves over the phone again to study the picture closer "It is! Trent you have some explaining to do!" Henderson called.

"Okay, fuck just give me my phone back you idiots" Trent groaned, snatching it back and turning it off. Closing the picture he had as a background. He had just switched it yesterday, the picture taken of the two of you at Trent's parents house last weekend, you were sitting on the couch together, smiling at each other as he is kissing your temple. He loved that photo and thought it was a cute background but now he remembered why he had a simple background before, you kept your relationship low-key.

Trent threw the phone down in the bag, wanting to leave but there was no reason to even try with the way everyone looked at him.

Everybody knew who you were as you were friends with many of the team, you knew Klopp and was therefore often watching training and matches. Sometimes assisting the trainers out and just being around.

That was how you'd met Trent. After a late training he had stayed a bit longer on the pitch where you had been, the two of you had begun talking and then he'd driven you home with the promise of meeting you again. He had kept his promise and after that you'd met up frequently, slowly fallen in love with the right-back defender.

After you became official you decided to keep it on the low, both for media and for everyone in the team, just wanting to be you for a little while.

"Explain!" Virgil demanded, sitting relaxed on the bench, legs wide spread and a small smirk on his face.

"Well.. we're dating okay!" Trent explained, groaning at the collective gasps from his teammates "Since when! And why haven't you told us?!"

"Since two months back and because we decided not to, at least not yet"

"You've hid your relationship for two months, what!" Ox close to gasped which made Trent groan out a chuckle "Come on guys, it's no big deal, we wanted to keep it easy and not pressure it before we knew anything for real"

"Man, you've gotta take her to guys night soon" Ox grinned, cutting the tension slightly "Yeah yeah, maybe, anyway can I go now?" he asked sarcastically making the guys boo at him "Sure" Robby grinned, Trent rolled his eyes annoyed by them and their stupid grins.

"Have you fucked her yet?" "Are you married?" "Do you have secret kids?"

"Shut up and don't talk about her like that" Trent grunted before exiting the changing room feeling even more bitter than before.

You were laying on the couch when Trent entered the apartment. You had been working from home, sorting all types of documents and numbers for your boss and now you were just finishing up in front of the tv.

"Hey love" you grinned as you saw his face in the door opening. "Hey" he muttered back, making you frown as he flopped down on the couch, face in your lap

"Hey, what's wrong" you asked softly, scratching his neck gently. "The boys found out about the two of us" he muttered after a second, not wanting to meet your eyes "What" you huffed, making him look up at you with a worried look.

"They saw my phone-background and put one and one together, everybody knows" You sat quite for a little while, processing the news but you didn't notice it made Trent anxious as he waited for you to say something, anything.

"Are you mad?" he said lowly meeting your eyes carefully "What, no no no, I were just-...thinking about what we will do, who we will be open to and if we should become official" you hummed, slowly threading your fingers through his hair to reassure him it was fine.

You were not mad, not at all. You both knew you wouldn't be able to keep it hidden forever and it was never really about hiding it either but more about being just you, getting to know each other and your relationship. But now multiple months had passed and you knew him and your relationship well by now and it felt like your relationship could survive the publicity.

Plus it was only his teammates, the guys you knew well and were sure they wouldn't tell it to the media. It was actually pretty nice that they knew so you would no longer have to hide and sneak around them with your relationship.

"Do you want to become official?" Trent asked, his eyes holding a little shocked glance. "I don't know" you hummed sweetly, kissing his forehead. "I think it would be possible to go official" you thought out loud "What do you mean?" "Like, the reason why we kept it to us where because we wanted to be sure and do it in our time but now I guess or relationship is strong enough to hold that kinda thing and we've already figured us out and I don't think it would destroy us as it could've before." Trent hummed, nodding a little "that's true but do you want that? Do you want to deal with all the media?" his voice was cold and almost dismissive, like what you said was stupid.

You frowned slightly, retreating your hands from his head which made him react, looking at you with an equal frown.

"Do you not want to be official with me?" you asked, slightly offended and hurt.

When he didn't answer you scoffed, pushing his head from you and standing up, ignoring his call of your name as you walked to the kitchen, roughly taking out a coffee mug from the cupboard.

"Babe" Trent sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist but you shrugged him off, really annoyed. "Babe I didn't mean it like that don't be sour" he pleaded but you already where. Pouring up the coffee you'd made earlier and slamming it into the microwave.

"I just.. I've just been thinking" he said carefully, not wanting to upset you anymore. "What" you barked "what the fuck have you been thinking off"

"I just.. can we please just sit down and talk about this" he sighed

"Sure" you huffed, taking out your cup and walking back into the living room, sitting down in the love-seat this time.

Trent sighed, knowing he had talked to fast.

He squatted down in front of you, not liking the annoyed look you had. "I didn't mean it like that"

"I-I guess- I'm just scared to be official" he finally spit. "I really love what we have and I don't want that to be messed up. I think you're right that we could survive it but I can't even think about it not working out. What if all the publicity makes you want to back out or if it causes trouble for us. I couldn't stand it" he sighed out, making your tense body soften and relax.

"It's not that I don't want to be official with you it's just that I don't want to loose you, I don't wanna loose what we have. I feel fine with the boys and all but I'm scared of social media"

He sighed out the words like it had been a hard burden for a long time making you feel slightly bad. Your hand made it's way to his face again, stroking his chin before you lean down to kiss him, sweetly and lovingly.

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions and I get what you mean" you said softly, loving the small sweet smile that tilted the corner of his mouth upwards.

"I'm sorry too, I didn't word it correctly and it came out wrong"

You nodded smiling at him before beginning your pondering again.

"I get what you mean, I do but we really only have one choice now and that's either we go out with our relationship publicly by ourself or we wait until we are exposed"

You said the words easily, simply just stating facts and Trent knew that you would never pressure him, it was the reality of things right now.

"You're right" he sighed, resting his forehead against your thigh. "What do you think?"

You bent down and dragged him up from the floor, settling in the couch instead so you could both sit.

"I don't know" you hummed

"Me neither" Trent sighed, drawing you into his side.

"What if we just let it be for a second, process it and keep it on the low, adjust to be us in front of the boys and then we will talk about it in a couple of weeks?"

Trent didn't answer, he just took a hold of your chin and kissed you needily. "I love that idea and I love you"

You giggled against his lips before letting them melt together again. "Then that's what we do"

[formulalfc]

Meeting the boys

Virgil Van Dijk x Reader

tw-none just fluff

You had met Virgil at a mutual friends birthday dinner. As someone who had been a Liverpool fan all your life you were very much in awe and intimidated by the Dutch centre back. Despite your initial fear of the man you both got on really well, bonding over your love of the support and your childhood club. You sat next to each other during the dinner and barely gave anyone else at the table the time of day, instead happy to just converse with each other.

As the meal came to an end, plates being taken away from the table and well wishes being given all around, you feared that this would be the end of whatever you had with Virgil. But much to your surprise as you both stood up to go your respective ways, Virgil stopped you with a hand to your elbow asking you if it would be possible to exchange numbers with you before you left.

That was six months ago and since that day you and Virgil had been all over each other, dates as often as you could fit them in, a drawer at his house for when you stay over and you had both met each other’s families after you had made it official with each other.

However, there were some people that were very important to Virgil who you had yet to meet, the rest of the Liverpool squad. You were arguably more terrified to meet them than you had been meeting his family.

Virgil had reassured you that you had nothing to worry about at all, the boys will love you because you make him happy and that’s all that really matters to them.

So with your shaking hands in your pockets, dressed completely head to toe in Liverpool merch that Virgil had insisted you wear, you made your way to training with your boyfriend, his hand squeezing yours every few minutes.

When you arrived at the training ground you steeled your nerves and climbed out of the car making sure you had your phone and bag. Virgil walked round to your side of the car taking your hand in his and placing a quick kiss to your forehead before murmuring to you, “I promise love its going to be fine.”

You knew it would be fine, it was just the initial meeting that you were worried about, wanting to make a good impression on the boys that Virgil loved dearly. You shot him a small smile, squeezing his hand in thanks and you both began walking to the entrance.

Virgil took you out into a bit where you could watch training and sat you with a few of the members of the media team who sat and spoke to you while you were waiting for the boys to come out.

After a few minutes they started to gradually come out into the training area and the media staff you were sat with got up to go and help filming content for the social media. You saw Virgil come out with some of the lads you recognise from the years of watching them, Trent Alexander Arnold, Andy Robbo and Virgil’s favourite person, Joel Matip.

Virgil looked over at you sending you a smile, and gesturing in your direction to the boys, who in turn looked over at you, sending you waves, and Robbo even go so far as to shout, “Hello Virg’s Missus”, causing more of the players to look over at where you were sat. A blush quickly rose to your cheeks, not being used to the attention and also a little starstruck that people you considered some of your idols were looking over at you in curiosity.

You look back over at Virgil who was clipping Robbo around the back of the head before looking at you and mouthing an apology on behalf of the Scotsman. You simply shook your head back at him, a smile gracing your features at the brotherly relationship the two of them shared.

Their attention was quickly drawn over to their coaches, explaining what they would be going through in training today.  

You sat and watched Virgil as he trained, very much enjoying the way he looked as he did his exercises and drills with his teammates.

After a while you felt a presence sit next to you and you turned to see none other than THE Jurgen Klopp sat right next to you, grinning right at you as he stuck a hand out, “Y/N! What a pleasure to finally meet you, we have all heard so much about the beautiful girl that caught our Virgil’s heart!”

You were at a loss of words as you placed your hand in Jurgen’s, stuttering out, “it’s a pleasure to meet you sir, I’m a huge fan of yours.”

He simply chuckled at you before launching into the funny anecdote of the first time he had met Virgil and telling you how well suited he thought you two were. You both sat and chatted for a while, quickly getting over your nervousness when you realised how easy it was to talk to him.

He eventually got up, telling you that he’d better go do his job or he’d get sacked, causing a loud laugh to leave you.

The boys continued to train, you just sitting there and enjoying the view in front of you until a few lads came over to you.

“Hello Y/N! Its so nice to meet you! Virgil has said so much about you!”, Mo Salah said as he sat on your left.

“We’ve all been dyin to meet you”, Trent says placing himself on your other side, while a few others, Bobby Firmino, Joe Gomez and Kostas Tsimikas stood in front of you.

Your jaw was literally on the floor.

You had no idea what to say, looking around at them all your mouth opening and shutting as you tried to figure out how to speak.

“What are you boys doing to my girl?” A low voice rumbled from behind you.

“Nothing!” Kostas exclaimed, “we’re just talking to her!”

“Well I think that’s enough talking for today, come on Y/N”, Virgil ushered you towards him. Words of protest were heard from the boys around you, exclamations of “We only just sat down” and “We wanna talk to Y/N, we will be nice promise!” we left unheard by Virgil as he pulled you towards him with a grin on his face.

You turned back towards the boys and sent them a small wave, they boys sending you smiles and waves in return and also telling you to come and visit them at training anytime.

Virgil took your hand and led you away but not before you bumped into Joel Matip and Andy Robertson, two of the guys Virgil spoke the most about when you were at home.

“Y/N hello! Its nice to finally meet you, Virgil’s been keepin you all to himself, eh?” Robbo says jokingly.

You grinned at him, not feeling as shy as you did with the others as you knew so much about him from Virgil, “Lovely to meet you Robbo”.

Andy pulled you into a hug before you were pulled into another by Joel who whispered in your ear, “He ever annoys you, you let me know, I’ll put him in his place.”

You laughed at him as you pulled away, gaining a strange look from Virgil, to which you patted his cheek and gave him a grin before replying to Joel, “I’ll let you know if I need your help.”

Joel let out a chuckle and you felt in that moment you had done well today despite your nervousness.

As you were walking away with an invitation to the next meet up, you realised you were happy that these were there person you shared Virgil with.

[gumnut-logic]

Well, this just sucked.

Alan fiddled with the restraints holding him to a bulkhead. Nope, not a thing he could do about it.

Other than him, the room, more a cargo hold than anything else, was empty except for an airlock door on the far side.

Why couldn’t he be kidnapped by an idiot? These ones had actually removed his baldric and his helmet, effectively cutting him off from Thunderbird Five.

Except for the tracker in his wrist, but they didn’t need to know about that.

The nerve, though. He was out here to help. He had thought he was saving a private space yacht that had engine trouble and was making a good attempt at colliding with a satellite or two.

But no, it had all been a trap. Probably to get a hold of his ‘bird.

Why couldn’t the bad guys make their own Thunderbirds and stop messing with theirs.

Oh, yeah, technology and all.

Then go invent your own technology, you assholes, and leave us alone.

Alan gave his restraints another tug and grunted as they bit through his uniform.

Of course, the astronaut in him was having a mild fit. He was stuck in an unknown craft of unknown safety specs with people who undoubtedly did not have his best health in mind, and he had no helmet.

He might as well be naked.

No, don’t give them ideas, you idiot.

Okay, focus. He had his training.

And he had his brothers.

While he had no wish to worry said brothers it was kind of reassuring to think exactly what those brothers might do to the persons responsible for this. If there was one thing he could say, it was that he was ever so proud of his family.

Scott would be pissed. That had both its positives and its negatives. There would likely be tactical scenarios in the future to prevent this from happening again. Scott was all about prepared and strategic readiness.

Couldn’t blame him really. The list of incidents in his brother’s resume was extensive. No doubt, Scott had learnt the hard way.

Now Virgil, Virgil was the softy. He smiled to himself. His tank of a brother was almost as much a worry wart as their eldest brother. He was less likely to get angry, but when he did, the whole house knew about it and avoided him. Only Scott and occasionally John would weather a Virgil snit, simply because it was terrifying. Add the list of equipment the engineer had at hand and buildings had the potential to be reduced to rubble. Nah, you didn’t want to piss off Virg.

But then there was John. No one, just no one dared rankle his middle brother. Alan snorted. John was the quiet one, and that fooled a lot of people. To their detriment. Gordon…it was always Gordon…had once taken a step too far and his music streaming still hadn’t recovered…six years after the incident. There was still whining. John just raised an eyebrow and smiled that gentle smile of his and flickered out.

Bit hard to chase a brother down who was literally thousands of miles away, yet had access to every personal detail, ever digital print, every part of your life.

Not that he didn’t trust John. No, he trusted him with his life, but hell, you did not want to piss him off.

The ship around him suddenly shook and Alan found himself thrown against the bulkhead. A grunt as his suit armour took the brunt, along with his shoulder guards.

These guys were really starting to piss Alan off, much less his brothers.

The ship stilled again and he was left wondering what the hell was going on. What did they want?

He pictured his next eldest brother beside him and the smart ass grin that came with the image. Gordon. Alan couldn’t help but smile. Gordon could be an ass, but he was an ass who was always on your side. The two of them had done so much…often to the ire of the above three brothers, but that just made it more fun.

Alan found himself grinning and he wondered if the assholes had a camera on him. Good luck to them if they did, because Gords was always going to make him smile.

His fish brother was amazing. Alan had seen him go through absolute hell, but his spirit was ever so strong. Alan admired Gordon. He was a role model.

That had him snickering. Scott’s frown at that thought was hilarious. 

But it wasn’t the pranks - though they were hilarious - it was Gordy’s view on life. His ability to keep smiling, stay in the positive, even when everything was absolute shit.

That was a thought for right now. Chained to a bulkhead in a strange ship, possibly abandoned, possibly kidnapped. What would Gords do?

A snort. Put jello in their knickers before kicking their asses out into space.

But Gords wasn’t a fan of space, was he? But his bro was brave and would kick ass anyway.

That was Gords.

Alan swallowed. Would Gords be as scared as he was at the moment?

Possibly.

But he would kick ass anyway.

Like Kayo.

Kayo.

You never pissed off Kayo and lived. Again it was Gordon who had tried exactly that. At the time, Alan had thought his brother was upset. That could be the only reason for tempting death.

He’d been partly right.

The dye in Kayo’s shower rose had prompted her focussed attention. She had cornered Gordon and the next thing Alan knew she had thrown his brother so hard around the spar mat he had bruises.

Which led to a Scott lecture of epic proportions. The smile on Gordon’s face had said so much more.

Alan still questioned his fish brother’s sanity.

And admired him for his bravery.

The whole ship shook around him and Alan startled.

The door on the far side of the bay stayed closed.

Scott, where are you?

And there was the truth of the matter. Scott had been his go to for so long, he was the default he yelled for when he needed help.

He would love to see him walk through that door.

Hell, he would love to see any and all of his brothers and his sister put a fist in these assholes’ faces and set him free.

Honestly, it wasn’t a matter of if, more of when. You don’t piss off a Tracy.

Any of them.

Because they would all kick your ass.

Even the littlest. 

Alan straightened where he floated. Yes, he would kick necessary ass anytime. He may be the littlest, but he was a damned astronaut, he knew stuff.

The restraints were still too damned tight.

The door on the other side of the room suddenly hissed and cracked open.

Alan spun and readied himself. He was not going down without a fight.

A familiar blue helmet peered through the door. “Alan?”

“Scott!”

And his big brother was there. A laser cutter and he was free and enveloped in a strong hug. “Hey, Allie.”

Before he knew it, he was being towed towards the door.

“How? Who?” He swallowed as Scott shoved the door wider and pushed him through. “What?”

But the answer was there before him.

Virgil was hovering in the space version of his exosuit, monitoring a forcefield over a massive hole in the side of the spacecraft’s cockpit.

Gordon and Kayo had three men hanging upside down from the ceiling wrapped in so many restraints, breathing appeared optional.

And John was muttering to Eos as he hovered over the controls of the craft. There was snarling.

Oh, dear.

“Here, we found these.” Scott’s hand hadn’t left his shoulder, but his other hand suddenly had Alan’s baldric and helmet hovering in front of him.

“I…”

There was a hum as a scanner was whisked over him from the direction of Virgil.

Scott’s eyes questioned the engineer, but he must have received the info he needed because a second later those eyes were once again trained on Alan.

As Alan took his baldric and snapped on his helmet, both of Scott’s hands landed on his shoulders. “You okay?”

There were so many eyes trained on him at the moment.

Alan straightened. “Yeah, I’m good.”

One of the bad guys whimpered and Gordon prodded him.

Blue eyes flickered but didn’t leave Alan. “Three is secured, though John is not happy.”

Another snarl issued from his red-haired brother.

Alan arched an eyebrow.

Those hands squeezed his shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”

Alan stared at his four brothers and his sister and smiled. 

“I’m driving.”

-o-o-o-

[cat-mentality]

PLS ELABORATE ON THIS [the theory on which eggs fit which sins]

OKAY BUCKLE UP ANON!!!! This is straight up tin foil hat territory, i'm just like manifesting from nothing because it is incredibly fun in my mind

For this to make a little of sense i'm going to consider Purgatory as my catholic school taught me- A place where the sinners go to repent to their sins, either for all of eternity, if the sins are too big or too terrible, or until they have been forgiven and i'm taking Dante's inferno as my guideline on how this whole thing operates.

I'm also going with the theory that Black Cucurucho was the one responsible for taking the eggs/scaring them away, maybe to make them vulnerable and fall on his trap, is my personal theory that the Black Cucurucho is literally the anti-Federation, as in order versus chaos and as such he is looking to destroy everything the Federation is building and using the egg's to do so (and also Cellbit!!! If it's not the Rebels giving him the information i bet on Black Cucurucho more than the Feds themselves).

So, basically: The eggs get kidnapped by this new strange force (not evil per say, not more than the Federation itself, but less interested in pretending not to be, like the Anfitrião in Ordem Paranormal) and they get stuck in Purgatory, who is made by 9th circles, divided by the type of sinners they are set to punish. The tickets are the passage to get into the circles, Virgil acted as Dante's guide in this case the train will be responsible for taking them from one circle (island) to the next IF they manage to complete whatever task will be set in their way.

I believe the placement of each egg (in my delulu head) has less to do with their own sins, as the Black Cucurucho is not really interested in them but rather in the suffering he can inflict on the parents using them, but in the mortal flaw he sees on their parents.

Chayenne i would put being stuck in the 1st circle, Limbo. It's the less worse of the nine as it is the place where the unbaptized and virtuous pagan stay, endlessly walking in eternal darkness.

Why you ask me?

Well Chayenne IS the son of the Angel of Death. His other father is also a being blessed by death (or cursed with life, your pick). He worships the Blood God. He is dear to the Goddess of Death herself.

What's more pagan than that?

Besides Chayenne IS virtuous himself, he is a warrior, devout to the Blood God however not for bloodlust, but for the desire of protecting those he loves and cherishes. Little Chayenne, walking endlessly searching for his siblings, praying to his fathers' goddesses to shine a light, to show him the way, to protect his siblings, but receiving nothing back as the goddesses is forbidden from interfering with the living, even the ones toying the line into her realm.

I actually changed my mind and we are putting Tallulah in the 2nd circle, Luxury. Now, we about to play loose with the definition of luxury here as this is the circle where the damned are tormented with strong winds that drag them through hell, i'm focusing not on Luxury as a carnal sin, but rather the element of desire.

And for this we are going to consider Wilbur as the parent being punished, not Philza.

Wilbur who left for fame.

Wilbur who left for months and months and months. Who lusted for the world, who wanted to be known, who wanted to be adored, who lusted after a life of his dreams.

Wilbur who in his lust for the world forgot the one person who always considered him her whole world.

Tallulah lusting after safety, lusting for a place to belong, lusting to leave a mark in the world so that it doesn't forget her, trying to grab onto anything to prove her worth and her value but now being stuck in those winds. dragged without a destination, powerless and alone.

Pomme is then in the 3rd circle, Gluttony. The 3rd circle is the circle for those who were gluttons, who over indulged, are now stuck in pits of dirty, freezing mud, tormented by Cerberus and also a storm of snow, hail and thunder.

Etoiles, always hungry for the next fight, for the next dungeon, for the next opponent.

Baghera always hungry for answers, for things she cannot have, cannot do (she wants an explanation about what happened to her, she wants to save her friends when she cannot even save herself, she desires for the world to be good and kind).

Antoine, always hungry for power, selling his soul, his family, to achieve it. Devouring faces, devouring stories, devouring lives, swallowing everything whole until he doesn't even know who he was supposed to really be.

Pierre always hungry for connection, for warmth, hungry for those he meets, trying to fill the void in his heart with the temporary warmth of another body.

Pomme hungry for adventures, hungry to prove that she is worth of love (she remembers, those first days, the distrusts, the coldness, the way they considered not taking her and she never wants to feel that cold), Pomme being stuck, helpless when she knows so very well that helplessness gets you killed, that it makes you weak and unworthy.

The 4th circle, Avarice is empty, of the eggs at least. A respite, as much as they can have in that place.

They find Ramon in the 5th circle, Wrath. Localized on the Styx, the river that cuts through the Purgatory, made of boiling water and blood, that is the place where the wrathful are locked on eternal fights on the surface of the river, on the bottom the sullen are forever stuck drowning on the things they never got to say.

Fit who lived his whole life in a desolate wasteland where fighting was the only thing he could do. Fit who knew no rest, no peace, no sound of those fighting and those dying.

Fit who fought his whole life, who is still fighting, who doesn't know how to rest, who doesn't know how to forgive, who chokes on his wrath, who forces it down his throat because he wants to be better but anger was all that he knew during most of his life.

Fit who looks at those people in their eternal battle, bleeding and making others bleed for no reason, with no end in sight, with no real purpose but to cause harm, and feels at home.

Ramon who tries so hard to be light, to support and help his father in whatever he needs, who drowns his own feelings because he doesn't want to bother others, because he wants to be the rock they can lean on, drowning at the bottom of the Styx.

Leonarda is on the 6th circle, Heresy. This is the circle where the sinners had the intention of sinning, the one destined to those who denied the existence of god, who went against the beliefs of their time, and now they lay on open graves as fire burns them.

And what is Foolish if not a non believer?

He believes in no god, no authority, no deity. He believes in himself, he believes in his family, he believes in what he thinks is right.

Oh he plays pretend of course, he smiles at the Federation, he works for them, he joins the Ordo, he participates in their reunions, but do he believe in any of them? Does he commit to one dogma over the other?

Of course not.

Foolish is a non believer. He will join the side that offers him the most, he will betray them as easily as he joined, he will jump from a place to another as long as that keeps his family safe, as long as that is what is better for them.

Foolish who sins and smiles as he does so.

Little Leonarda who believes in her Pa above everything and anything else, burning in a never ending fire. Little Leonarda who doesn't give a fuck about anything else as long as he is okay, as long as he is by her side, who would follow him into whatever mess he got himself into, who couldn't care less about other's morals or expectations, who would gladly sin as long as they are together.

Richarlyson is on the 7th circle, Violence. This circle is actually divided in three parts but i think only two would be used the Valley of the Phlegethon where the ones who were violent against others were submerged on a river of the blood of those they hurt, and the valley of the suicidal, where those who were violent against themselves became either trees, eaten by harpies or chased by hungry dogs.

And well, it's self explanatory isn't it?

Who has spilled more blood than Cellbit? Between the war, the prison and not the Island he has enough blood on his account to drown them all.

Forever? Oh there are bloodbaths in his past too. There is rage that blinds, that takes hold of him and only leaves when he is standing in the aftermath of a carnage.

Mike does not mind blood. Never has, never will.

And who hurts Pac more than he does himself? Who hates Cellbit more than he hates himself? Who blames Forever for things, more than himself?

They may turn their rage against the world, may bath it into blood, may spill it until rivers form but they drown themselves in it too.

And Richarlyson? Little boy who saw too much, who knew death and suffering too early, who lives at war with a part of himself who wants nothing but to hurt and destroy.

Finally, Dapper is on the 8th circle, Fraud. This circle has ten pits in it, each designated to a type of sinner with their own punishment, raking from being whipped by demons to being submerged into boiling tar or being dressed into shiny clothes who were as heavy as lead.

And what is BadboyHalo if not a fraud?

Who even knows who he truly is, what he truly thinks? Probably not even himself.

This is a man of many layers and many masks, a man who presents himself in any way he thinks is right regardless of what he truly feels or thinks, this is a man who will lie to anyone, including himself.

This is a man who embodies every single sin punished, who could easily be put into any of the pits. Is he not a seducer? Is he not a liar and a thief? Corrupted by his own darkness? A hypocrite, to others and to himself? Does he not sow discord, does he not give bad advice?

And isn't Dapper too much like their father? Little Dapper who lies and lies and lies, who hides behind her own masks, who is now being punished because they do not know who they truly are underneath all the masks.

And the 9th circle, the last one?

Betrayal.

Sometimes the only way to leave hell, to leave Purgatory, is to be worse than the devils.

[boilbluedenim]

Over the liminal mindscape

I love and hate how this show's ending is completely left up to interpretation, mainly because of Wirt and Greg's potential deaths and how that makes me feel about the show as a whole. It attaches a sort of bittersweet feeling to it which I'm not too sure about. more on that soon though.

Anyway, when paying even just an inkling of attention to this show, you can almost immediately connect the dots and come to the conclusion that none of the adventures (for the most part) actually happened. This conclusion is heavily drawn from the frames we see at the very beginning, of Wirt, Greg, and Jason Funderburker (the frog) drowning. (ep 1)

and from the frames where Wirt wakes up in the water after having said goodbye to Beatrice, saving his brother and the frog by carrying them both out of the water. (ep 10)

Taking into account that Wirt, Greg, and Funderburker all fell into the water moments before almost getting hit by a train, which we discover in episode 9; Into The Unknown, I think it's pretty safe to assume that this is, in fact, the case and that OTGW takes place in either a mental space or a physical limbo, occurring while they are all in the process of drowning.

Another thing I'd like to mention is that OTGW is heavily based off of Dante's Inferno, which, in the simplest of summaries, is a poem about a journey that begins in a forest, leads through hell, and eventually into heaven, hence the theorized death I mentioned earlier. It's actually pretty easy to spot where these references and homages lie, for example, the formula of the story is somewhat similar, and the characters take on similar roles. (for example, Virgil: Beatrice/Woodsman(?)or even Greg in some cases, Beatrice: Sara, Dante: Wirt.) (please read Inferno or a summary of it to fully understand this if you haven't already because it's actually really interesting).

Rewatching OTGW with this in mind led me to realize a lot of things that I originally passed off as unique writing choices with no actual meaning behind them. Then again that could be the case but what's the fun in assuming that?

Upon entering the unknown, we're launched into a universe with a seemingly ever-changing time period. Characters talk funny and fancy, dress and act as if they're from the 1600s-1700s, and none of our protagonists seem particularly fazed by this (except for Beatrice, occasionally) with Greg using a phrase such as "brother o'mine" and Wirt's dramatic poetic rambles. Everything feels very inspired while also being all over the place, almost as if it's been composed from memories, lying in the pits of somebody's mind...

Wirt is a Huge Nerd.

If I am to believe that this show takes place in one of our protagonists' minds, which I do in fact believe, then I would say that that protagonist has to be Wirt. Wirt has a tendency to go on poetic spiels, even dropping two of them in the very first episode. Accompanied by his teenage boy dread (being a nerd at 14 is tough) and his overextending knowledge about curious things, which he showcases in his exclaim at Beatrice's ability to talk and his comment about one of the rooms in Endicott's mansion (below), It becomes a glaring possibility that OTGW is primarily from Wirt's point of view, with the Unknown existing solely in his head.

I've actually seen this point argued before, with some people mentioning the black turtles on the poster in Wirt's room or just his entire room in general. However, if true, that doesn't really answer the question of whether the unknown exists as a physical space or a mental one, having no supernatural effects on the real world.

2. The Implications of the Bell

Okay, so, listen.

I hate to be the kind of person who goes "Well it's probably just a fun and silly bit that doesn't actually mean anything." but I'm gonna be that person anyway, or at least I'm not going to assume character death because I don't want to and free will is a thing blablablabla. I will however be serious for a second and try to provide a tangible reason for why I think this scene doesn't have any real-world implications.

For one, this scene immediately jumpcuts to a voiceover, followed by scenes that serve as conclusions for the stories of the characters we've met along the way, all of them being positive. I think this serves the purpose of letting us know the story did in fact have a good ending, with Wirt learning how to treat his brother with respect. I also think that ties into the theory above.

Not only does the unknown serve as a mental limbo but it also serves as a lesson for Wirt in particular. This journey is riddled with self-critique, characterized as Beatrice, all the while Wirt is drowning and realizing he's not only failed himself but his brother as well.

3. The Beast

Surprisingly I haven't mentioned the beast yet even though he's very important to the story. The beast represents a couple of things, one being death and two being the overarching, real-world problem. Those may sound like the same thing, and honestly, they are depending on what you think the problem is. To me, it's Wirt's relationship with, and treatment of Greg in the real world that bleeds into the universe of the unknown.

The exchange that Wirt has with the beast at the end of episode 10 fully encapsulates his character growth. The characters his mind has created have actually taught him something, that being; wallowing in sorrow and accepting your fate is just going to lead you further down this winding path, or in this case, to the bottom of this lake. You will never get home.

Unlike I've seen others suggest, this is not a story of a boy failing and dying while so wrapped up in his own fantasy, eventually residing in a false heaven. Instead, everything is put back where it needs to be.

From the forest, through the unknown, and finally, back home.

[prodigal-explorer]

now that we’re on the topic of high school aus

i really wanna write about my one au where roman is very unpopular and he gets bullied a lot for being effeminate and theatrical and just very autistic. his brother remus is just as unpopular, but remus does not complain about it. roman, though, desperately wants to be popular, and he thinks the way to do it is to join the football team.

virgil is the captain of the football team. he is popular, but he is very kind, laid back and relaxed outwardly, though inside, he is an anxious wreck because he’s worried that he won’t get a football scholarship and won’t be able to go to college because he’s from a low-income family.

roman and virgil become unlikely friends as virgil coaches roman in football so one day, roman can join the team, but virgil is worried that roman will be eaten alive on the field because he’s weak physically, and the other jocks are horrible to anybody who is different than them, and roman is very very different than them. so virgil makes up lies to try and avoid letting roman on the team for as long as he can while he figures out a solution that’ll make everyone happy.

meanwhile, roman is met by a mysterious figure. a smiley, happy, kind boy named patton who offers to be roman’s best friend, and he says that virgil’s training is useless, and that he will show roman how to really make it on the football team. it starts out genuine, but when patton realizes that roman only wants to be on the team so he can be popular, patton despises roman for his greed and pride and selfish ambition. so slowly, out of pushed down and repressed resentment, patton starts to “punish” roman through football training. he also makes roman promise not to tell anybody about their training sessions, or else bad things will happen. patton starts to become addicted with playing god over roman after a lifetime of repressing every negative emotion he’s ever felt.

and roman doesn’t realize because he’s so excited to become a football player and to be popular.

and meanwhile, remus is trying to figure out what’s going on and why his brother is turning into a secretive, and completely different person.

[tulipanthousa]

pslsjs i can imagine patton trying to convince logan and virgil that slut just means like. 'someone with multiple sexual partners' or something so they can truthfully say it and them having to be like 'sorry :(( that is not going to work :(( i know that is not the case :(('

Virgil cant say it because when fae use it its not connotative as "person who has a lot of sex" but as "person who has a lot of unfaithful or immoral sex" which isnt really something he personally can train his brain out of

Logan cant because he has BaggageTM around the word slut specifically (see Loyalty), but roman and pattons joking isnt something that bothers him more than typical "partners teasing me" pouting

however this winds up being fucking hilarious because Remus and Iolanthe think that the human usage of "slut" as "person who has a lot of sex" is HILARIOUS (who insults someone for having a lot of sex??? losers who cant get any tail thats who 😂) so they use it as a joke constantly.

so you wind up with them calling each other "slut" all silly and affectionate and Logan and Virgil over in the corner all Scandalized. roman and Patton also think this is hysterical

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

I literally get so mad about the pole dancing pictures. He used his USUALLY SUGGESTIVE AND MATURE CHARACTER to do a prompt that is ASSOCIATED with maturity and WASN'T EVEN SHOWING HIMSELF OFF and it was apparently so bad he had to delete them?

Pole dancing is a sport for a lot of people? People use it to work out and train themselves and their strength. Just because you (vague you, not a specific you) see it sexually, doesn't mean everyone else does! AND HE HAD CLOTHES ON.

They were up for such a short amount of time I straight up forgot they existed to be so real with you.

Plus. Is this man never allowed to be mature? He's a grown ass man. He's in his thirties. Why is this a "Mmm maybe not, Thomas" moment? Why does the fandom ever get to do that? People also bullied him over Virgil's fuckin skirt outfit. And the belt not "sitting on the hip"

Maybe he did that because the character is emo and that was a major part of emo style! May-fuckin-be!

Sorry I get so heated over this. Ugh. He's an adult. He was a young adult during the prime time emo era. He's an adult. He can do what he wants. If he wants to do pole dancing pictures (IN CHARACTER) he should be allowed to. Ugh.

What a way to start my morning (it's 6:30 LMAO)

Anyway pole dancer Remus and Virgil live in my heart and give me so many ideas I love them.

Have a good day y'all

— 👑

Fucking T H I S!!! Literally Pole dancing (very much like belly dancing) is N O T fucking sexual unless the person is doing it with that intent!!! It's an art that takes S O much fucking upper body strength and skill and the fact that people were harassing Thomas for probably the most tame pics of him in Ree costume of all things baffles me!!! (They hear pole dancing and immediately equate it to strippers just wait till they find out what's also that long metal pole at parks and Firefighters HQs /sarcasm) What's even more wild is that these are the exact same people saying "Stop babying Thomas he's a grown man >:}(" whenever this man gets harassed for swearing and immediately become hypocrites when he does shit to express himself and be more comfortable with his body (Majority of it being him shirtless at most and fucking clothed) I was so pissed about the Vee skirt look harassment too especially knowing the exact context on why it happened in the first place and I'm so fucking glad he didn't delete those... As someone who's been in this fandom since 2017 people just want a reason to hate him because I will never get over the time he got harassed for supporting Ace people if you don't like him just do yourself a favor and fucking leave it's as simple as that (Also R E A L 👑 Anon pole dancer!Ree and Vee S H O U L D live in your heart they're so beloved and you too <3)

[edutainer2022]

UNREQUITED

Co-written with @janetm74

As you may remember, there's a series of pieces on Scott and Kayo being idiots shadow-dancing with some complicated feelings and inhibitions, and baggage, that came to pass due to the incredible contribution of the amazing @janetm74. And now it's taking a more coherent shape as a uniform story! Some chapters you've seen already, some have never been published. There are no words to express how excited and grateful I am it's happening and moving forward (albeit in an angsty direction, so far).

The whole story as it progresses is now up on AO3.

Previous bits in order can be found here:

Ch 1 (blue like she'd never known)

Ch 2

Ch 3 (hurt like this)

Ch 4

CHAPTER 5

(accustomed to misfit)

It was extremely rare that they sparred. Virgil preferred heavy lifting to tatami for keeping his field game up. But he specifically requested a training session for that morning. It was her job to keep them all in shape and defense-ready, among other things. Although, she had a pretty good idea Virgil's motives were far from pure. Just like his poker face was far from perfect.

She flew in late the night before. Technically, the next day was her personal downtime, but she didn't feel comfortable leaving the island unattended for the night. Leaving them all unprotected. Leaving HIM alone with the shadows.

The date was nice. Wayne was nice. She really enjoyed his company. When not stuck up by regulations - his jokes were half decent. He had field stories in abundance she soaked in like a sponge - chases, investigations, cover-ops. He saw her interest and delivered. Wayne SAW her. She let the kiss last. They agreed on a second date, their respective schedules permitting.

She half-expected, half-dreaded to walk in on the Commander pulling an all-nighter with reports. Maybe half-hoped too, just a little. She didn't know what she'd see in his eyes. The exuberant enthusiasm he'd displayed so far made her blood run cold and her heart keen. But the dark lounge was empty.

She curled in a ball in the scolding shower, once in her room, and bawled her eyes out, like a love-sick little girl she'd never been. Not exactly a reaction she'd expect after the first decent date she'd had since college. It wasn't fair to Wayne. It wasn't fair to herself. Unrequited love wasn't ever fair. So she promised herself she wouldn't BE that girl. EVER.

And now she was sparring with Virgil. Sweetest, kindest Virgil, who cared for her. Who wanted what was best for her, like they all did. She made no mistake - Virgil cared for her, but he loved his big brother like he was air. She understood the feeling. That's why she agreed to a second date with Wayne. To allow herself no way back.

"Do you like Rigby?"

She was atacking, Virgil was parrying. She was backing him into a corner, but it felt the other way around. She doubled down on speed and force.

"He's okay."

"You deserve more than okay, Kayo."

Virgil danced away from her reach and left her in the corner, all of a sudden. She saw red. Unforgivable, as his trainer. Understandable, as his sister. If only Virgil knew, what he was saying!

"Is that so?"

Cross-cut, block, block. She took a swing, Virgil evaded.

"What DO I deserve, then? To be invisible?"

Another swing. Undercut.

"To be a shadow?!"

Roundhouse kick.

"To never be loved back?!!"

She was breathless from shouting, or from exhaustion. Virgil stopped at some point, not heeding the hits she was raining, but Kayo didn't even notice. Strong, safe arms closed the embrace, while she was still raging and raving, and just held her. The shooshing noises enveloped her senses as there was no more voice left in her tears. Kayo broke her own promise and wept.

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 16

⚠️ Erm, not sure what to tag this as...fluffy whump angst? Mainly fluffy!

Timeline starts as memory and ends in the present. Hope you enjoy!

💚💛👨‍🏫🚒🐦‍🔥

Night fell on Tracy Island, and Virgil flopped down onto the cool sheets of his bed. Training had gone well today, despite the odd hiccup; Tam taking to the jet-pack like a duck to water. Jonesy...well, he flew with all the finesse of a drunken penguin. Luckily, the med-scanner had reported no injuries, but for a bruised backside. The merciless ribbing (as to be expected from good friends) was decidedly more painful.

Virgil smiled.

Jonesy had just batted the jokes right back. The firefighter had a good sense of humour, and a thick skin - another vital trait in their line of work. It was like having a second Gordon about the place, which was in equal parts a blessing and a curse.

His piano, for starters; having been somewhat neglected since their guests arrived, had acquired a fine layer of dust. Gordon, of course, had wasted no time at all in scribing messages on its hood.

What's the difference between a piano and a fish? You can't tuna fish!

Jonesy had laughed way too hard at that; and just a few short hours later, another dad-joke (of equal cringe-worthiness) followed. Only, this time, the handwriting obviously not Gordon's.

Why did the GDF arrest Virgil?

Because he got into treble!

Virgil sighed.

"EOS, please can you add piano polish to the shopping list?"

*. *. * .

Virgil drew idle angel-patterns in the fresh bed linen; savouring the luxury of being able to starfish in his king-sized bed after training...well, they weren't really recruits anymore. They had all integrated so well with the family, that it was nice to think that he'd been training friends.

Mac...Mac was quite quiet; that was until he and Brains started chin wagging about Star Trek.

I mean, he liked Star Trek as much as the next person, but those two must have mastered the ability of breathing through their ears. He'd never seen Brains talk so much!

And though he often opted out of their tedious-Trek-talks; it was wonderful to see their resident engineer, and friend, so animated.

Virgil was roused from his thoughts by the strumming of a gentle Spanish folk song; the lilting melody drifting through his open balcony doors.

Someone was humming. By process of elimination; he knew it to be Tamara. It was a female voice, and he had heard both Grandma's and Kayo's over Comms enough times to know that it wasn't them. He padded quietly over to the balustrade, taking in the night air as the music played on.

It was a beautiful night; the father stretches of ocean so tranquil; the surface glittered with dark starlight.

Virgil rested his head on folded arms, watching the seafoam gather and fade along the shoreline.

Usually, all this beauty went unseen. After back-to-back rescues; he was lucky to see a glimpse of his pillow before sleep took him. He sighed contentedly, and the music suddenly stopped.

"Oh God! I had no idea anyone could hear me! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to keep you up!" Tam set the guitar aside with a musical thud.

"No, no, please! Play on! I was really enjoying that," Virgil leaned his head over the balcony.

"I'm really not that good. I-"

"How long have you been playing?" Virgil stalled her from disappearing back from her balcony and into her own room.

"Erm...ever since my mum passed, so that's...six years - but it's all self-taught," Tam flustered shyly. It was the first time Virgil had seen her out of her comfort zone.

"That's really impressive. And...I'm sorry about your mom. We lost our mother, Lucy, when we were just boys. Time doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"No... but I guess, those who are lucky have, or find others to live for," Tam sighed pensively.

They both stood silently for a moment, lost in memory and deep in thought.

After a moment, Virgil gently cleared his throat.

"Do you like stars?"

"Stars?"

"Mmmm."

"Yes. I mean, especially here. They're so vivid and... ethereal!" Tam enthused.

"Well, if you can spare ten minutes; I'd love to share something with you. You can see it best from the Comms balcony," he gestured.

"Oh...I mean, sure?"

"You don't have to. It's nothing really. I-"

"No, no! I'd love to see," Tam assured, seeing that whatever he was referencing, held a great deal of meaning to him...whatever it was.

"Cool. I'll meet you up there in five."

*. *. *.

Tam found Virgil already waiting outside of the Comms room.

He greeted her with a genuine smile, before turning his face to the tapestry of stars in the near-midnight sky.

“Okay. I'm no John, but you can't have two spacecase brothers without learning a handful of constellations,” Virgil waved vaguely.

“Mmm. I bet.”

"Erm...Do you know many constellations?” he queried, not wanting to patronize another potential spacecase.

“Erm, well...that one over there's the North Star.” Tam pointed to the brightest light gleaming proudly in the sky.

“That's…actually Five. John's obviously overdone his teeth whitening gel.”

Tam snorted as she laughed.

“Spoken like a true brother.”

"Alright...so you'll have to use your imagination...like, a lot..." Virgil smiled.

"Cassiopeia, can you see her?"

Virgil guided Tam's hand up to the constellation.

"Angle your head slightly. It's a..."

"M?"

"Mmm hmm. Now, Auriga - that's your O." He guided her wrist as she traced the shape.

"Bare with me for the next one!"

"Okay."

"This is where you'll have to really use your imagination. You see Gemini - the twins?"

"Erm...yep, got it!"

"Okay, forget their top halves.

"Said no guy ever."

"It's all about their legs." he winked.

"Look..." He guided her hand once more in the final shape of an M.

"Mom."

"Mmm hmm."

Tam hummed appreciatively; the loveliest of smiles forming on her face as she gazed on the astral wonder.

"It really is beautiful," Tam mused.

"Beautiful," Virgil agreed, watching her smile.

Quietly, Tam began humming the melody from earlier, and the palms gently swayed in the light of the moon.

*. *. *

Virgil roused.

Grandma!

He made to move before the rest of his senses had even come back online.

Pain was the elicited result.

He hissed and a gentle hand was felt at his shoulder.

"You're okay, I've got you, I've got you."

The voice was familiar but conscious thought still eluded him.

Everything hurt.

Thinking hurt.

Just then, the voice began humming a familiar tune that filled his darkness with starlight.

[loopstagirl]

Crashing into his office chair with a long suffering sigh, Jeff Tracy ran a hand wearily over his eyes. They had barely got past the welcoming hugs before the trouble had started. He had hoped this term at Wharton's would have helped sort Alan out, but it seemed the moody teenager was just as moody as ever. He couldn't fault his other boys for the teasing; the light hearted banter had been part of their family meal for as long as Jeff could remember, he would have been worried if it had been any other way.

Yet Alan's reaction showed he still had a long way to go until Jeff considered making him part of the team. He had hoped this break would prove him wrong and he would have been able to talk to his youngest son about starting training in the summer, but after the incident at dinner, Jeff knew that was off the agenda. With a sad smile, he turned to the photos lining the edge of his desk, showing the young and carefree Alan who didn't feel the need to argue against everything his father said. All of his sons looked so young and innocent in the photos, not weighed down by the responsibility of saving the world on a regular basis.

That reminded Jeff of what he had come into his office for in the first place. Alan wasn't the only one causing him grief over the Thunderbirds. Flicking a switch on the panel in front of him, the father patched himself through to the son he needed to have a word with.

"Scott, my office, now." Not waiting for a reply, Jeff disconnected himself, resting back in his chair and allowing it to take his weight. Alan's arrival had already disrupted things on the island if Jeff was summoning his eldest son. He couldn't remember the last time he had used that tone of voice with Scott, not since he was at least Alan's age. At that time, even Alan couldn't compare to the mood swings Scott went through.

"What's up, Dad?" Startled out of his musings by Scott's almost silent arrival, Jeff swung his chair around so he was facing his son. Leaning casually on the doorframe, his eldest child didn't seem to have realised what the tone of voice meant, his posture relaxed as he hooked one hand in his pocket, the other swinging freely.

"Your control of Thunderbird One."

"There is nothing wrong with my control," Scott began, heat beginning to already emerge in his voice as he leapt to the defence of his 'bird without quite knowing what he was defending. His posture had already stiffened, the hand coming out of his pocket as he straightened up, clearly showing his father his military past as he all but stood to attention.

"Not the control, no," Jeff agreed, watching Scott closely for signs to show he knew what he had done. "Let me rephrase that then, your handling of Thunderbird One."

"Dad, what are you talking about?" Scott asked, his tone bordering on rude as he voiced his confusion. He didn't mean to sound blunt, only was completely bewildered as to what his father was referring too. The rescue had gone without a hitch, apart from the rig almost blowing up too soon for the boys to clear it. But with Jeff joining them on the rescue for a change, the team had worked to utter perfection, determined to show their father just how good they were at working together. A previous argument between Virgil and Gordon had made him accompany them this time, declaring he didn't want personal matters getting in the way of their job. Like it would though. Scott knew his brothers well enough to know whatever personally matters were occurring got left behind whenever they turned from Jeff Tracy's sons into the members of International Rescue. Although at the moment, that was not helping the eldest son work out what had his father so annoyed.

"Scott, think. On the way home, what did you do?"

"Fly? I honestly have no idea what you are talking about, Father."

"I'm going to give you one more clue, Scott. Just after we saw your brother."

And then, like a light bulb coming on, Scott knew precisely what he had done that was making his father annoyed. Jeff always had maintained that the ships were not to be used for stunts, something he believed his sons kept too. In range of the island, they did, but sometimes on the way home from a successful mission, one or more of the Tracy boys had the need to display their relief and delight in a job well done. Caught up in the adrenaline from the mission and the excitement at seeing his baby brother, however, Scott Tracy had forgotten his father was in Thunderbird Two

Watching Scott grimace slightly as he suddenly became very interested in his shoes, Jeff was hard pushed not to laugh. His son, whilst being a mature 28 year old that had the role of field commander in one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, looked exactly like the ten year old who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar again. Reminding himself that he was supposed to be angry at his son, not reminiscing in the past, Jeff smoothed his features back into a disapproving look, thankful Scott had been looking down at the time.

"Well?"

"I was testing her thrusters?" Scott offered sheepishly, only meeting his father's eyes momentarily before looking down again, a flush beginning to work its way up his neck.

"Try again," Jeff responded drily, resting further back in his chair to regard his son. He was partly curious as to what Scott would come up with; he had become a scarily talented liar during his teenage years. Although judging by that first attempt, the father was hopefully he wouldn't have to worry.

"She had a mind of her own?"

"Nope, not doing it. Scott, what are the rules regarding the 'birds?"

"Never let Gordon fly One and don't let John near Two's controls when he has had chocolate?" Biting his lip quickly, Jeff rolled his eyes, attempting to desperately stop the smirk emerging. If he was honest, Scott was completely right.

"No, the other rule. And don't say don't let Alan near the 'birds either." Judging by the look that overcame his son's face, Jeff knew he had caught his eldest out there. Once more glancing at his shoes, Scott finally faced his father.

"Sorry."

"Scott, there is a reason why the 'birds cannot be used for stunts. This isn't the air force, son, you can't joyride One, it is far too dangerous."

"I had her completely under control!" Scott burst out suddenly, feeling slightly put out that his father was doubting his piloting skills.

"I don't question that, but you are supposed to be setting an example to your younger brothers, that is why you are the field commander and not the other way around."

"Dad-," Before Scott could continue on an outburst that Jeff had not seen from his son for quite a few years, a shrill beep came out of the monitors in front of him, causing the father to sit forward with a concerned frown making its way onto his face. Checking the readings, Jeff sighed wearily. He was right to think that trouble had arrived back on the normal paradise.

"Hang on, isn't that-?" Once more cutting Scott off, hopefully before he could work out what was going on, Jeff reached out a hand and smoothly hit a button, only to find himself face to face with a worried looking Alan, Fermat just being seen in the corner of the screen.

"Alan, my office, now." Disconnecting again, Jeff couldn't help but notice he had just repeated the exact same words he had used on Scott. Who was going to be next? With a wry grin, Jeff only hoped that it wasn't going to be John. It had happened in the past though, Scott and Brains going up to collect the younger man just so Jeff could have a word. The blond was not always the calmest of people when his brothers' were out on a tricky rescue, and Jeff had been more than astonished by the language that had come out of his star-loving son's mouth. Before his thoughts could go any further, Scott all but exploded, having put together the pieces regarding his youngest brother.

"What the hell did he think he was doing? If he has touched her in the slightest, I swear I'll-,"

"Scott."

"How did he know my access codes? I've changed them since the last holidays to stop him doing this. He better not have-,"

"Scott."

"If anything is wrong, I'm going to kill him."

"Scott, that is enough! Alan is not the question here, you are. Due to your behaviour regarding Thunderbird One, you are to sit out of the next mission." Jeff knew that it was a slightly drastic measure to take, but the father was more than aware that unless he regained control now, the boys were simply going to spiral out of hand. And quickly as well. It was the only way Jeff felt he had any control over them, and if he was honest, he hoped that if Alan could see Scott being put in his place, then the younger brother wouldn't feel like it was just him that was being singled out.

"What?"

"Gordon can take One, Virgil, Two. I need you boys to know I'm serious about the stunts, they are not going to happen."

"Dad!"

"You're grounded for the next mission."

"But Dad..!"

"Bottom line, Scott. I thought you had grown up." Regarding his son coolly, Jeff narrowed his eyes as Scott opened his mouth to protest, but luckily, the young man realised his father's mood and backed down. Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, posture tense. So wrapped up in his anger was he that he barely even noticed Alan stalk past him in the opposite direction, face mirroring his eldest brother's.

"Hey, Scott, there you are, dude. Where did you...Scott?"

"Leave it, Virg."

"You alright, man?"

"I said leave it!" Scott snapped, barely sparing his stunned brother a glance as he stormed past. He could not believe that had just happened. Alan had been back on the island for not even an hour and already things were becoming chaotic. Scott couldn't quite work out why his father was so annoyed about the stunt, if anything; it had shown precisely how in control of his baby the ex-air force pilot was. Stalking out of sight and up the stairs, he didn't hear Virgil's low whistle of disbelief.

"You alright, Virgil?" Glancing up from his painting, Virgil spared Gordon a quick glance as the red head strolled casually in.

"Something has stolen our brother and replaced him with the teenage Scott."

"Ouch," Gordon winced, just about remembering enough of Scott's teenage years to know that was not a good thing. "I think he, Dad and Al are having a party in Dad's office, I just saw the Sprout head that way."

"Great. This is going to be fun couple of weeks." Virgil moaned, carefully laying down his paint brush and stepping back to critically examine his work. Biting his lip and slightly poking his tongue out in concentration, the young man made a few corrections before stepping back once more.

"Virg, do you want to come out in the boat with me later? I need a diving buddy." Gordon suddenly suggested hesitantly, hoping his brother was distracted enough to agree without realising what he was agreeing too. Virgil wasn't the first choice for a midnight dive, heck, he wasn't even Gordon's second or third choice. But with Scott in a mood, Alan no doubt heading the same way and John not even on the planet, the red head thought he may as well give it a go.

"I don't know, Gords, I…"

"You need to grow up!"

"Then let me!"

Hearing the angry tones, Virgil glanced over at his brother, eyebrows raised. "Count me in. Can we go now?"

"Give me some time, Virg, I've got to get the stuff-,"

"Alan! If you've touched my 'bird..!"

"Let's go." Gordon practically yelped, and tearing off the old shirt he had been wearing over the top of his own to protect his own, Virgil joined his brother in the mad dash out of the villa and down to the sea front.

Standing at one of the many windows lining his office, Jeff sighed, thinking over the conversation he had just had with John. He was right about Alan, hopefully the kid would grow out of it, but for the life of him, Jeff couldn't work out what had bought on the sudden temper of his eldest. He supposed it was because, intentional or not, he had criticised Scott's handling of his own 'bird, something he knew the pilot would have taken to heart. Seeing a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, Jeff turned and allowed the smile to form for the first time that night. Virgil and Gordon certainly weren't sticking around for this storm; they were making a break for it whilst they could. For a moment, Jeff wondered whether he should remind them of protocol regarding going out at night, how everyone needed to know where they were in case of a rescue, but hearing the shouting match taking place between his eldest and youngest, Jeff shook his head. He envied them that they could escape.

Little did he know quite how much he would long for that escape himself within the next couple of days.

[5eraphim]

Is it ok if you do yandere classic heavy x reader? The reader could be from his team or someone like a Miss Pauling for their team

I decided to answer this request with a oneshot, I wasn't certain if this was what you had in mind, (As in I didn't know for sure if you wanted this or headcanons.) but I hope you enjoy

Title: Backstabber

Character: Classic Heavy (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: yandere, AFAB reader/female terms of affection used (good girl/my girl), abuse of power, dubcon, boss x employee dynamic, TOXIC RELATIONSIHP, possessiveness, rough, degradation, toxic masculinity/sexist cheavy big time, technically hurt/comfort but more accurately hurt/hurt the other person, arguing but it's basically foreplay

Word Count: 5.5k

Master List

Tip Jar

"Desire gradually took over- not simple need, like hunger, but a taut elastic compulsion. It took all my energy to stand it, this urge to ravage." Jenefer Shute, Life Sized

@teufortwriting (asked to be tagged in classic heavy fics, this one's 4 u nd the anons hope you lot enjoy!!)

(post 1/31 of my version of kinktober where i write whatever i want for every day of october <3)

It was late; it was your day off, and yet here you were, working well into the night. At least when you worked from your quarters, you had the luxury of staying in pajamas all day. But warm gray sweatpants and a thin cotton tank top were little comfort from the real distress of work. You were in a rough situation. Virgil, the team Sniper, was missing in action, and you'd spent all day messaging with other mercenary groups from your laptop, messaging anyone you could think of, asking if anyone'd seen your Sniper. 

Despite the entire day's effort, you had a bad feeling it would be all in vain. No one had seen a thing. At least no one who bothered to respond had. You were hardly surprised most of your messages went ignored. Just about everyone in the business knew of the growing bitterness among your team members, and no one wanted to get involved. No one was surprised to hear people were starting to abandon the team altogether. You shut your laptop, rubbing your temples, wondering if you were just one bad week away from the entire group falling apart.

A knock at the door disrupted your train of thought, as well as causing you to jolt slightly in your seat. You checked the clock; it was almost 10 p.m. Not only was today supposed to be a day off, but you couldn't imagine who would need to contact you at such an odd hour.

Needless to say, you were caught entirely by surprise when you saw your boss, of all people, looming overhead, clutching his side with one hand and leaning his weight on the door frame. For a moment, you just stared, unable to understand what he was doing here. Creasing your brow, you squinted, looking up at him, trying to see a bit better in the low light. "Cheavy?"

His head dipped forward slightly, and you could see his shoulders rising and falling with each jerky breath he took. "No shit. Let me in."

Only then did you notice the dank smell of blood wafting from Cheavy, and you found it a lot harder to avoid looking at the hand at his side, catching the dampness of the fabric he clenched between his fingers. 

Faltering for a moment, you nodded, pushing the door wider and stepping out of the way. He didn't say anything as he pushed his way inside, keeping one hand against the wall to brace his weight against as he shuffled forward on unsteady legs. You watched for your position at the door as he trudged to the bed, making the box spring creak slightly as he sat down on the edge, curling forward as he took a deep breath. 

After shutting and re-locking the door, you lingered awkwardly in the doorway, feeling suddenly quite out of place in your own bedroom. Cheavy looked like hell. You'd never seen him look so beat up. It was so out of character to see him like this. "Cheavy, what happened to you?"

"Stabbed." He grumbled.

You crept closer on shaky legs as if approaching a rabid dog. "Why did you come all the way here? Shouldn't you go check in with Medic?"

He pulled off his goggles, wiping the sweat from his brow with his clean hand, "I know you've got a first aid kit in here, now come patch me up." Despite his command, you were too scared to get any closer.

"Alright, um- I'll get right on it. Just get comfortable, and I'll go grab some painkillers for you. I'll be right-"

He interrupted with a gruff bark before you could finish your thought, "You're not going anywhere! Not until I'm patched up."

"Cheavy, I'm not gonna leave you, c'mon I'll just be one minute." You replied in a much quieter voice.

"I'll tell you one more time- you're not going anywhere!" He didn't need to waste his breath with a threat. You got the message loud and clear, after whatever happened to him earlier, he was in no mood for you to test his patience. 

"Understood." You replied curtly. Cheavy was scaring the shit out of you, but you tried to reason with yourself. The sooner you got him patched up, the sooner he'd be out. He was clearly in a lot of pain, but at least he was responsive; he could move on his own, and if it was just one stab wound, you were confident it shouldn't be too hard to patch up. 

Everyone on the team had a first aid kit in their dorm, even though you weren't technically on the team. Even if you couldn't remember ever actually using it. While you weren't as trained as a Medic to treat combat injuries, it didn't take a genius to clean and patch a wound. Gathering your supplies, you pulled on some disposable gloves, bringing a bowl of water and a clean rag, having no idea if it would be enough to clean him up, mentally praying the wound wasn't deep enough to need stitches.

When you returned with your supplies, Cheavy was already on his back, his shirt and harness in a bloodied heap beside his boots on the floor. Drawing a little closer, you realized pulling off his shirt must've agitated his cut, causing fresh blood to fall directly onto your sheets. 

Steeling your resolve, you tiptoed closer with your first aid kit tucked under your elbow, the rag draped over your shoulder using both hands to keep the bowl balanced. When you finally got to his bedside, standing over him, "I'm going to clean you up first. Can you move your hand for me?" 

Cheavy winced slightly but was able to comply, staining the bed with even more blood as his wet hand white-knuckled your bedding. Now that you could get a good look at the wound, you thanked God it wasn't deep enough to require stitches. Fortunately for Cheavy, no severe damage was done to his muscles or bones, but it was one of the last places anyone would want to cut because of the thinner skin and all the nerve endings. The cut ran over his ribs in an angry red streak from the side of his lower ribs, arching up and ending a bit below his pec. It would need an awful lot of bandages but no stitches.

"I'm going to clean the dried blood up first. This is going to feel a bit cold." 

Cheavy didn't respond, just nodded with his eyes still closed, preemptively curling a pillow under the bend in his arm. He obviously wasn't comfortable, but at least he didn't look so infuriated. He hardly reacted when you pressed the damp to his lower belly, using one hand to gently scrub and the other to push into his gut to keep yourself from accidentally tugging at the wound. 

It was going to take a while to fully clean him, and you couldn't stop wondering why the hell he came to you, of all people, to take care of him. Wringing out the rag, you inquired, "So… The Medicine just disappeared? Did he say anything odd the last time you saw him?"

Cheavy huffed, "Obviously not. If you didn't know, deserters don't leave with 2-week notices."

"Right, sorry…" You responded. Gingerly, you began to dab the rag a little further up his chest, already dreading when you'd have to sterilize his wound. Cleaning up his upper body alone would take long enough. You felt so small bedside Cheavy, your hands absolutely tiny and ineffective trying to aid the titan before you. Even in this state, he could snap your arm like a twig if he wanted to. 

So much blood had clotted in his chest hair as you timidly worked away; your fingers were wrinkling from the water, and yet there was still so much work to be done. At least he looked comfortable. You could vaguely feel his heart beating deep inside his chest as his breathing slowed and deepened. The tension finally left his face. Had you ever seen him so relaxed before? It was a pity to disrupt it, "I'm going to disinfect the wound now; it's going to sting pretty bad."

He practically groaned, "Like I haven't had worse today." Cheavy was right. Given what he must've been through, a slight stinging was nothing; all the same, it was impossible to steady your hand as you raised an iodine-soaked cotton ball to the wound's hideous gaping wound. He hardly flinched when the cotton dabbed against his side. At first, you felt guilty for not getting him something to numb the pain before getting started, but you were feeling pretty sure he'd snagged something before he got here.

You stopped counting the cotton balls you had to use to finish cleaning him up. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, radiating from the used cotton balls in the wastebasket, the bedsheets, and his ruined shirt, and you knew your fingers probably wrecked his blood, too. 

But at last, he was cleaned, the bleeding stopped, all there was left to do was tape the gauze over the wound, and you'd be all done. As you suspected, you had to tape no less than 4 gauze pads together to fully cover the injury. The hardest part was over; all you had to do now was pat dry the rest of the water from his chest. You almost thought he'd fallen asleep, startling slightly when you heard him speak, "You find Virgil yet?"

So much for seeing him calm, "Sorry, I haven't." 

"Figures." And just like that, he was pissed again.

As you pat the last section of his abdomen dry, you immediately retracted your hands, wringing them anxiously as you took a few steps back from the bed. "I have found a couple leads, though! It's not much, but I was exchanging messages with some other mercenary groups and-"

In the blink of an eye, he was propped upright on his elbow, leaning to the side to glare at you. He was pissed, but you could tell he was still hurting pretty bad as he balled his hands into fists, forcing himself to stand his ground and show no weakness, "Other mercenary groups? And what the hell are you trying to contact them for? You gonna abandon the team, too?"

"No! Of course not! I just thought maybe if more people were looking for Virgil, we might have a better shot of tracking him down, you know?" If you had any idea you could set him off so quickly, you'd never opened your mouth in the first place, and you knew backtracking like this was getting you nowhere. Once he decided he was mad at you, that was it. He had a short fuse with a hell of a fiery temper.

"You need other people to do your damn job for you? Is that it? Can't you do anything right yourself?"

You were too scared to get any closer to the bed, but you tried to keep your voice level as though it would be enough to convince him you weren't frightened. "Cheavy, will you please lay down, your wound will open up again. All I did was ask around if anyone's seen him recently- that's all. No one is doing my job for me."

His eyes narrowed, "No if you could do your damn job, he wouldn't be missing!"

You opened your mouth to speak, but he was acting so vicious, taking all his aggression out on you, knowing you couldn't do a thing to defend yourself. "Just let him get it out of his system. He'll want to be back in his own bed eventually." You thought, swallowing the lump in your throat, you muttered, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Well, thank God for that." He shifted in bed, laying down on his back, gritting his teeth, "Is this gonna hold up tomorrow in battle?"

You stared at the white patch of gauze and tape at his side, suddenly feeling quite meek, ashamed a patch job was the best you could do, as though this was your responsibility in the first place. "It's not perfect, but so long as you don't overexert yourself, you'll be all set soon."

He almost laughed, "We're losing men left and right, and you think I have the choice not to overexert myself? Is that the best you can do?"

At this point, you could tell Cheavy was just being cruel, he wanted you to feel small and humiliated, and it was working, and you could already feel the sting of tears in the corners of your eyes, "You think it's my fault our men are going missing?"

"Is it not your job to find them? You expect me to believe you've been corresponding with all these other mercenary groups, and what do you have to show for it? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were looking to follow Virgil and Medic out the door."

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he interrupted, "I want to see the correspondence, all of it. If you're so innocent, surely you got nothing to hide, right?"

You felt your stomach drop, "I don't have it… I didn't hear anything promising back… I didn't keep any records."

His voice lowered, "How convenient."

"Cheavy, I know this looks bad, but you must believe me! I would never abandon the team!"

With that sinister, low voice, Cheavy spoke again, "You're nothing without loyalty. I hope you aren't dumb enough to forget something so obvious."

"Cheavy, I'm not going anywhere, for God's sake, you're paranoid."

"So I'm just an idiot then? Is that it?" 

"That's not what I said! Of course, I'm loyal to you- to the entire team!" It was getting harder and harder to keep the tears down. God, you hated dealing with him when he was in a bad mood.

"Forget about them. You're nothing without me- you know that, right? You're only alive now because you're useful- and if you double cross me- bitch, you're dead." He was absolutely seething. "Get over here. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you're innocent."

Your instincts told you to run and get out while you could, but something unnamable drew you closer: some subliminal obedience. Pacing closer, you stood an arm's length from the bed, "I-I know, Cheavy, this looks bad… But you gotta believe me, I'm on your side! I've always been on your side!"

A chill ran up your spine as he grinned up at you; the sight of a smile on his face was beyond unnatural. "You women love saying that shit, don't you? But I know how it is, you bitches think you're so clever, so charming. You look for the strongest guy to leech off of and hide behind. But the second you see someone else- it's all over. I know your type. You don't give a fuck about anyone but yourself!"

"It's not like that, Cheavy! It's not like that at all!" It made too much sense listening to Cheavy exposing such sexism.

"Must be nice, huh? Leaving all the real work for the men while you get to take it easy?"

After the day of stress you just suffered, that comment stung, but he didn't give you a chance to respond or defend yourself. "You can't track down a few runaways- you can hardly patch up a wound. I can't even trust you alone for one day without me!"

"I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry everything's going wrong… but please, I don't know what more you want from me!"

"Don't play dumb bitch, you know why I came here." He couldn't be serious. He just called you worthless and detestable. How could he possibly want you after all that? But the look across his face told you he was dead serious.

"No, Cheavy- please, not like this. God, anything but that." Just thinking about him taking his aggression out on you verbally was enough, but the thought of him doing it physically was so much worse. 

"Do you need me to spell it out for you because you've got one choice here. You can get on the bed and fucking earn your place here for once, or I'll snap your neck."

Cheavy had been nothing but cold, abrasive, and blunt working with you, and while he was still a man with needs like any other, the idea of someone like himself considering taking mercy on you, even just to use your body, confounded you. 

You felt your blood turn to ice in your veins, "You wouldn't…" 

Cheavy watched the color drain from your face with an odd expression somewhere between hatred and amusement. "I wouldn't? Killing you wouldn't cost me a damn thing." 

While you wanted to resist, to argue your way out of the situation, the words died in your throat before you could say a thing. It was impossible to tell what he wanted more, to kill or fuck. Cheavy watched from the bed with sadistic pleasure, watching your confidence crumble like he could smell your fear. Staring at you more like a wild animal than a human. 

"How can I trust you not to kill me once I give you what you want?" You were past resistance at this point; you knew what was about to happen, and he knew it, too.

"You can't. Now c'mere. I want you to prove you belong." Cheavy was past shouting at you. He knew he'd won. Now he was cold and still, expecting you to be the one to make the next move. You were too terrified to even try to come off as sexy. The most you could offer was compliance. Slinking into the bed, crawling in from the foot of the bed before padding over silently, sliding into place between his body and the wall, laying on your side. He took up so much space in the bed that you felt like you had no choice but to cower to fit. 

Stilling momentarily as though waiting for an order, you realized it was your job to turn him on tonight. Looking directly at his lips, you reached over, cupping the side of his face with your palm, smoothing your thumb over the stubble. "So far, so good. Maybe he wants me to act scared?" You thought to yourself. That sounded like something he would want from you. Starting slow was your safest bet. 

Leaning your face closer to his, you closed the distance between your lips, pecking him shyly as he followed your slow pace. While he lay flat on his back, you found his hand with yours, cradling it between both hands, rubbing the toughened skin with your thumbs, warming them slightly. His other hand found the back of your neck, pushing your head closer to deepen the kiss, to which you complied, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth, his teeth grazing against your lips.

It was a bit of an awkward position, having to lay on your side, one arm caressing the side of his face, one leg wrapped over his, while Cheavy laid on his back, forcing you to crawl closer. He was trying to urge you to keep going, but you were too nervous to get too close, terrified of accidentally pressing against his fresh injury.

Cheavy, on the other hand, wasn't so cautious, "Get on top."

It took you some time until you were properly situated, shifting from his side to between his legs, straddling his waist, leaning forward carefully, avoiding his abdomen as much as possible. Once you were within arms reach, his hands were at your waist, trying to pull your body even closer with a hardly concealed neediness. You complied, kissing him, cupping his cheeks with your hands, pulling apart briefly to whisper, "Cheavy, you gotta take it easy. Your wound could split back open."

He grinned, "So what? You'll still be here to patch it up for me, right?"

You weren't sure if he was making a joke or if he wanted an honest answer. Trying to acquiesce to either demand, your face softened, and you nodded, your thumb slid over his lip as you continued to stroke his face, "Right."

"Good girl." You weren't sure what caught you more by surprise, the use of a pet name or the feeling of his right hand groping against your ass through your sweatpants. You allowed Cheavy another open-mouthed kiss, feeling him suck your lower lip between his teeth, nibbling it in an almost playful manner. 

When you first laid hands on him earlier in the evening, his skin was cold to the touch, but now he felt so warm beneath your chest and between your thighs. And you could feel his legs spreading further as you finally felt comfortable enough to press your body against his broad chest. "Take your top off, I wanna watch."

He watched with lazy half-lid eyes as you nodded, pulling away enough to hook your fingers under the hem of your tank top, feeling a questionable arousal as you pulled the thin fabric away, now looming bare-chested just a breath away. You watched as he slid his massive hands up the length of your torso, groaning in pleasure at the feeling of precious, soft skin underneath his fingertips. The warm feeling deep in the base of your stomach increased when his hands reached your tits, wasting no time before kneading them with his palms, watching the fatty tissue squish between his fingers. "Come closer."

Bracing your weight on your elbows on either side of his head, you nuzzled against the side of his head as his hands squeezed just a bit tighter. For a split-second, you almost wondered if he would be gentler than you expected until you felt him grind his thumb harshly against your nipple, making you yelp and fruitlessly try to arch away from his hands. 

"Does that hurt?"

"Yeah!" Before you could try to pull away again, you felt Heavy's face separate from yours before biting down on the side of your neck, no doubt drawing blood as he did so. You hardly had time to react to the pain when you felt your body moving without your control. Cheavy detached from your tits to dig his fingernails against your back, forcing your body to flatten against his own, his lower body grinding his semi-erection against your limp body. The pain began to dwarf your rising fear as your arms and legs began to flap and push against Cheavy uselessly in resistance. 

Cheavy was moving so fast, but you felt too weak and helpless to stop him as he greedily continued to bite and suckle against your sensitive neck. You had to force your head from the mattress; it was getting too hard to breathe, and you could feel yourself beginning to breathe rapidly, your heart beating so fast, making it impossible to think. 

You could feel Cheavy disconnect from your neck, and you winced, keeping your eyes shut in fear of feeling him lash out again. Instead, he stilled, keeping your trembling body forcefully close to his own, "God, you're sexy when you cry." Confused, you blinked your eyes open, only then registering the tears clinging to your lashes. Instinctively, you moved your hands to brush them away, but Cheavy shook his head, giving you an odd look, which you interpreted as him telling you to stop. Laying your hands back down, he used his grip on your back to push you forward, but rather than forcing you into another deep kiss, his tongue slid out, flicking against your cheeks, the weird feeling making you shut your eyes as he continued to lap up your tears, kissing your eyelid when he was finished. 

"You feel so good when you're mine."

Cheavy released you from his hold, allowing you to push away slightly, wondering what he wanted next.

"Take the rest of your clothes off. Mine too." You complied. Kicking off your bottoms and underwear at once, followed by your socks, before turning your attention to his heavy-duty work pants, visibly strained by his erection. Settling between his legs, your hands found his belt, undoing the clasp and top button. Cheavy sighed with relief at the feeling of the zipper finally coming undone, the erotic sounds distracting you momentarily before you turned your attention back to your task. 

He moved with you, helping you pull his pants down and off before your fingers found the waistband of his boxers. The sight of his tented clothing distracted you and forced you to acknowledge that once this last bit of fabric was gone, there would be nothing separating your bodies. Rather than pulling them down as quickly as you'd done to his pants, you curiously palmed over the swell, making him hiss between grit teeth. He was obviously impatient, but he didn't tell you to stop. 

Partially to delay the inevitable, partially out of curiosity, you traced the outline of his bulge with your finger, dipping lower, feeling the shape of his balls between his spread legs. Even with feather-light touches, Cheavy reacted with vigor, bucking upwards as though it would do anything to satisfy him.

"C'mon, quit messing around already!" He ordered, no longer looking at you. His head had rolled back while you were playing with him, and he was still facing upwards when he spoke. Sighing through your nose, you complied, using both hands to fully undress him before forcing yourself to crawl back on top.

"You're so eager." You didn't think anything of your words but felt unnerved when he smiled in response, "And it's all your fault." You stiffened over his massive body, shutting your eyes, half-expecting him to just force his way inside of you, but to your surprise, you heard him spitting, followed by the feeling of two thick fingers tapping at the outer edge of your sex. The unexpectedness surprised you, making you gasp and look down at what he was doing. Teasing you, forcing you to get a feel for him as he dragged his fingers against you, making you throb against nothing. 

"That's my girl, don't fight it. Just let it happen." It was easier to handle the situation with your eyes closed, not having to look at the loathsome man while he violated you. Resting your forehead on his shoulder, you felt your hips stirred to movement, trying to match his slow rhythm, hitching up anytime you felt him brushing against your clit. His fingers, already wet with his spit, gathered more wetness as he slipped inside you, making you groan as you were forced to stretch against his fingers. 

You tried to catch your breath when he eventually retracted his fingers, smearing the lubrication against his cock. It was just a trace of your warmth, but the promise of the real thing so close had him rock-hard and aligned right where he needed to be, getting a good grip on your hips to ensure you wouldn't try to squirm away. He pushed his head inside, going mercifully slow, allowing you time to adjust to his size before going further. "Does it feel good? Does it feel good to feel my cock inside you while I hold you down?"

It did, it shouldn't have, but it did. You realized Cheavy wasn't going to move until you responded, and you forced yourself to croak out, "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Is that so?" Was all the warning you got from him before he pushed deeper inside you, forcing you to keep stretching around his shaft. It hurt as you expected, but something about how he held you down and teased you had you wet, silently begging him to go even deeper. 

By the time he bottomed out inside, you were shaking like a leaf against Cheavy, who relished in your fear in the way he would force you to behave so well for him. "Good thing I got here before you ran away." He snickered to himself before snapping his hips against yours, watching your body tense, your hands gripping much harder against his shoulders than you intended. 

You whimpered, "Cheavy, I'd never abandon the team, you know that- You know I'll be here forever!" Whether it was listening to you whimpering, sounding so pathetic, or the line, "here forever," something about what you said set him off. Making him grunt in satisfaction, continuing to grind against you.

"Forever?" His voice was a bit deeper now, making you shudder.

"Forever! On your side, I swear!" He must've been much more pent up than you realized because he was hammering into you with reckless abandon, already turned on and wanting more. Rather than responding to your words, he sort of grunted in approval. He was too close to climaxing to bother with complete sentences. His eyes were shut, his face tense with anticipation, both hands on the swell of your ass, forcing you to grind against him as he continued to pound inside, treating you like nothing but a piece of meat for him to tear into. He was all lust and no love, fucking like an animal. All his blood was rushing south; you knew the moment he could think clearly, he'd be done with you. 

You should've been revolted. Cheavy hated your guts and saw you as nothing but a body. But how could you remember all that when it felt so good to feel his cock stretching you out, feeling his sweat mixing with your own, his hands pushing you forward until your clit ground against his lower belly. No doubt he could feel you were getting off on being rough-handled like this. You could even hear the sound of your own slick mixing with his spit and precum between thrusts.

Between heavy, labored breathing, you pushed your face right up against his to moan in his ear, "I'm yours; I'm all yours." Almost as soon as the words left your mouth, you gasped before gritting your teeth in pain as Cheavy thrust all the way inside you, coming as deep inside as he could, accidentally clawing at your rear as he mindlessly forced you forward. The brutalism made you lightheaded, feeling so weak and broken down in his arms.

After a few more agonizing seconds, you felt his hands slip from your hips, sliding down your thighs, kneading his fingertips gently into the flesh of your outer thighs, allowing you to disconnect, feeling traces of him clinging and running between your thighs, making you sick. Obviously, he expected you to share the bed with him and wouldn't take kindly to you leaving to get cleaned up. It's not like you had anywhere else to go anyway. The best you could do was dabbing at the mess with a sheet, trying not to think about how filthy it made you feel. The sheets were likely stained with cum and blood, just like you. 

Slotting yourself back into place beside him, facing the wall, you felt a hairy arm wrap around your upper body, pulling you possessively into Cheavy's chest. He'd taken the liberty of turning off the bedside lamp, allowing a merciful darkness to settle over the room.

Without turning your head to speak to him, you whispered, "You believe me now, don't you?"

Cheavy kissed the top of your head, pulling you closer, "We'll see. You've earned your stay here, but just for tonight."

You couldn't help but moan under your breath, somehow feeling even more broken down, "I don't understand- for God's sake, Cheavy! I've done all you've asked of me! What more do you want from me!?"

"Until we find where our real Medic went- you're gonna fill in for him." He sounded tired, almost bored, as though he'd come to this decision before even showing up. 

You had to bite your lower lip to try and keep as quiet as you could, to keep from crying out loud and irritating him, "But I don't know how-" 

"Then you'd better learn fast." Whatever reservations you had were clearly of no concern to him. As far as Cheavy cared, the decision was made. He'd gotten what he wanted and was due for some much needed rest. 

How desperately you wished you could just roll over and let sleep take you like he could, but as you lay frozen in place, your mind racing, imagining yourself forced to follow the team into battle, risking your own skin to protect the man you hated more than anyone. 

Cheavy leaned down slightly to breathe in your ear before tucking your head under his chin and drifting off, "And if you ever try to go behind my back again, I'll blow your damn head off."

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 23 - Recognise

Story so far… if you haven’t read the account of the original teeny earth and sky situation (ch 21&22) this won’t make as much sense.

The emotional whump train continues… but there is a hug! Well, kinda… sort of. Um. *coughs awkwardly*

In my defence these boys have a lot of mess to exorcise and everything will be much better once it’s all out in the open. I promise.

Sorry Scooter… but you had to figure it out one day…

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

“You saved me Virg. If you hadn’t been there…”

Virgil barely heard the words, every muscle strained to the limit and locked solid at the memory of trying to lift his bigger, heavier brother just enough so he could grab hold of the gutter. Scotty’s eyes were wide and scared in a way Virgil had never seen and his face was splattered with red.

He could almost feel the pins and needles in his ramrod straight legs, pressed hard against the mattress, bracing against the sheets which were suddenly much heavier than he was. The terror at his legs being trapped and the dread of what would happen if they suddenly weren’t trapped swirled around each other in his mind.

His arms trembled. He wasn’t strong enough. Scotty needed him to be bigger and he was too small. He was always too small and he wasn’t going to be enough…

But then suddenly he was. He was enough! He’d done it! And Scotty was there beside him and he was ok and Dad was there too and…

No! NO! Nonono Dad couldn’t find out! He’d promised so faithfully he wouldn’t tell.

He looked up at Scotty who was quiet. He’d been ever so quiet. He hadn’t approved of Virgil telling Dad those home truths but when would he ever hear a word against the man? He’d not spoken up on any of the occasions when Dad had been there. Each time he’d gone quiet and small and almost… faded. Metaphorically, of course. Virgil guessed he was so convinced Dad thought he was a failure he wouldn’t even say anything anymore. The colour drained from him just like the day he put on that stupid grey baldric.

The fury bubbled up again but he squashed it back. He needed to focus on the moment so instead he opened his mouth to beg his brother’s forgiveness for accidentally telling their greatest secret to the one person Scotty had never wanted to know it.

But Scotty was walking away. No! Please wait!

He threw the shattered remains of the flying machine off of his legs and followed his brother towards the infirmary door, dodging under his father’s outstretched arm.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

“You saved me Virg. If you hadn’t been there… I’m so sorry. I should never have put you in that position. I could have killed you, killed us both… I… I was such…”

Scott tailed off as he wondered at the impact that day must have had on his nine-year old saviour. He hadn’t thought about it for years, they’d had so many near death experiences since then it barely registered but… he felt himself flush with shame as the realisation crept over him… The way Virgil sometimes reacted to those subsequent situations made a lot more sense.

The pleas to be more careful that Scott shrugged off or argued away, the quiet moodiness that could last for days, the fake laughter at a younger brother’s jokes he knew Virgil hadn’t really heard, the endless gym sessions… it all gleamed out at him now like invisible ink under a black light.

And the petrified brown eyes of his baby brother stared down over the edge as he pulled Scott back again and again and again.

Virgil himself had dropped the relentless eye contact and was instead twisting the bedsheet viciously in his hands, no doubt reliving in his own way the same experience Scott had tried to summarise in halting, insufficient words. His face was so full of fear Scott wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms and scare away the monsters.

But he wasn’t sure now that the monster wasn’t him.

All of John and Grandma’s insistence that he couldn’t blame himself for Virgil’s condition, that it wasn’t his fault he was shot down and captured and Virgil had just got sick because he loved him so much… the reassurance he was slowly beginning to let himself believe suddenly crumbled to dust.

It WAS his fault.

Virgil had been hurting for years.

Even after Scott came home.

… no.

Especially after Scott came home. And ever since.

Scott had been wounding his best friend over and over and over.

He’d been traumatising his faithful shadow for most of their lives.

The guilt was acid. It was eating away at the fibres of his muscles. He wasn’t sure his legs were really capable of supporting his weight anymore but he forced them do it anyway. He couldn’t crack now. He couldn’t cry now. He mustn’t. He was. Damn. He wiped his face impatiently. He got a steely grip of himself and focussed back on his brother.

Who suddenly looked over at the door, flung his sheets back and leapt out of bed.

Virgil’s face was twisted in such desperation there was not a cell in Scott’s body that could prevent what happened next.

He threw himself into Virgil’s path, spun as his brother evaded his reach and caught him on the second attempt. Clutching his big-little brother in more of a vice grip than a hug, he buried his face in fluffy un-styled hair. The same fluffy hair that had been little Virgil’s trademark, that he had tried to blow out of his eyes as the two of them hung on the edge of disaster. The hair Virgil had never allowed to stay fluffy again because after that day he declared he was too grown up for crazy baby hair. It wasn’t practical. It got in the way of things he had to do. The style had changed wildly over the years but was always solid, always controlled. Scott had missed the fluffy.

The crack was unstoppable and Scott’s voice emerged in a ragged sob:

“Virgie don’t go! Please? I’m so sorry!”

Virgil struggled and tried to wriggle away but Scott couldn’t make himself let go. He heard his brother take a deep breath in through his nose and braced himself for being thrown off by the much stronger man. It would be deserved. Virgil didn’t want this right now, that was clear… this hug was solely for Scott’s benefit not Virgil’s and it wasn’t ok to do that.

But he couldn’t let him go because he didn’t know when he’d get another chance to tell him… he raced to say how sorry he was for everything and how much he loved Virgil and how he couldn’t do any of it without him and “Please Virg, forgive me and come back…”

The expected push didn’t come. Virgil had frozen.

Scott stopped talking.

When it came it came as barely a whisper:

“Scotty?”

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚