#grumpy virge

[simonz-angel]

❤︎ Masterlist ❤︎

simon n his sweeettt roommate - you miss your pretty lil roommate and corner him right after his shower. n from what it feels looks like… he missed you too.

pretty boy simon n his demanding girl - sweet boy simon who can’t help but kneel over and cry desperate for his girl… who’s just a touch demanding n maybe a lil ridicule.

finding your next sweet boy to corrupt - taking the virginity of the pretty heaven sent boy.

simon who fucks the life outta you - simon who fucks you till you’re a crying, squirming mess basically. 😀

silent treatment with simon - simon who goes mad after a week off your cold shoulder. so in solution, he fucks you till you have no choice to beg for his forgiveness.

simon with a cutie plushy girl who wears her glasses all shyy - sweetie simon who distract his babie studying to get between those yummy thighs.

ghost who has many techniques to stamina training - not gonna sugar coat this one… ghost who chokes you out fingers deep. 😊

sub!simon who’s into giving not receiving - subby whiny simon who eats you up on his tongue all while boutta bust.

simon and his plushy babe - when you’re hesitant to take a seat on your man’s face… yet that man NEEDS it.

messin’ round with your pretty old mannn - your grumpy old man who gets mad when you can’t just be a patient pretty girl for him.

toxic ex bf simon who sends you sweet lil vidzz - toxic ex simon who secretly begs for his babe back with a pretty vid of his hand round his cock. pt- two with a lil phone sex here!!

walking into virg roommate simon getting his fill in for the night - virgy boy simon who doesn’t realize you’re standing right behind him when he’s got his computer on jerking himself off till it’s too late.

simon who’s a patient teacher - simon who slightlyyy lets you take your time getting all those inches down the back of your throat.

simon who leaves his sweet best friend for the military - pathetic baby boy simon who’s in love with his best friend just absolutely too scared to say anything in fear, and so when he leaves for the military with only a portrait of your pretty face… he can’t help but rub one out.

subby boy simon who can’t even keep his tongue in his mouth - i feel like this kinda speaks for itself… 😇

soft love with simon - simon who can’t help but fuck you full of his pure love.

simon who gets off on your face… literally - simon who rubs his sweet cock across your even sweeter pretty face.

crying on your hubby’s cock - simon who just fucks you so good and so deep you can’t help but cry and scurry away from him even though it feels so good!!

crazy ex!bf simon - crazy crazy jealous boy simon who can’t help but fuck you so full and deep when he hears you been hang out with another man.

FLUFF with our baby boy si - just a bunch of fluffy cannons on our sweetest cutie pie simon riley.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @gordonthegreatesttracy

From @gordonthegreatesttracy to @vitanirigatoni

Chapter one: Christmas on the Range

“Oh give me a home, where the rescuers roam

Where the squid and the rocket boy play

Where seldom is heard, roars from the Thunderbirds

And Scotty’s not grumpy all day!

Christmas on the range

Where the squid and the rocket boy play

Where seldom is heard, roars from the Thunderbirds

And Scotty’s not grumpy all day!

How often at night when the heavens are bright

With the lights from the glittering stars

Has John stood there amazed and asked as he gazed

Does their wonder exceed Virgil’s art!

Christmas on the ra…”

“Gordon, shut up!” Scott demands. He is sure that his fish brother spends all year just thinking up new ways to annoy him, and this is one of his favourite methods. A new and irritating song on Christmas Eve, and surely seven in the morning is too early for Gordon to start being annoying!

This is the second Christmas after they got their dad back, and after last years disaster, where Gordon set fire to the tree and presents before running away and getting himself shot, they made a family decision to do things differently this year, and spend Christmas at the ranch.

“No Scotty, the song says you aren’t allowed to be grumpy!” Gordon tells him. “Gordy jr loves Daddy’s singing, don’t you” he says, turning to the seven-month-old baby resting in Lady Penelope’s arms. Gordon still can’t believe that this baby is his, and his love for both Lady Penelope and the baby grow bigger every day.

Everyone is sitting around the table having breakfast, grandma’s specialty of burnt toast and raw bacon is being ignored for a large bowl of fresh fruit, and an even larger pot of coffee, which they are taking turns wrestling from Virgil.

The early morning sunlight is streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, bathing the room in the pink glow of the sunrise, promising another perfect day in paradise.

The centre of the table is piled high with presents of all shapes and sizes, and Lady Penelope is subtlety eyeing them up, she is an adult, a mother, a secret agent for the world’s biggest rescue organisation but she still gets excited for her birthday! But her attention is dragged away from the gifts by raised voices.

“Dad, why not?” Virgil ask his father from the other end of the table, where they are having an intense discussion, which anyone else would call an argument.

“Because I am your father, and I said so!” Jeff replies, raising one eyebrow and glaring at his second eldest son, that gaze that would usually have all five of his children backing down in an instant, but Virgil has not had enough coffee to heed the warning.

“But dad, it isn’t fair! Virgil says insistently. “Before you came back Scott let me do it all the time”

Jeff trying not to laugh and still keep a stern expression on his face, leans his elbows on the table, and rests his chin on his hands. “Really, should we ask him?”

Virgil glares back at his father, defiantly, and rolls his eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Hey Scott, stop yelling at Gordon for a minute, and answer this question. Before you rescued me from the Oort Cloud, did you or did you not let Virgil drink coffee straight from the pot?” he says calling down the table.

The whole room goes quiet, while they anticipate Scott’s answer.

“No I did not! That’s disgusting” Scott replies.

“Want to try again Virgil?” Jeff says with a grin.

Virgil knows when he is defeated and doesn’t answer, instead choosing to finish the coffee in his mug before filling it back up and starting on coffee number five for the morning. Just three more and he is ready to face the day.

“Are you going to eat anything Virg?” John asks, having watched his brother inhale caffeine for the last ten minutes.

“I am eating. I am eating a salad” Virgil replies, pouring another coffee.

“I thought you were drinking coffee?” John asks, lines of confusion cross his forehead as he frowns.

“Gordon!” Virgil calls.

“I got ya back, Virg” Gordon replies. “Coffee is made from beans, beans are a salad, therefore coffee is salad. Virgil is consuming a perfectly healthy breakfast!”

Jeff gives up. “Just don’t drink it from the pot” before giving his full and undivided attention to the unfinished coffee bean salad in his own mug.

Grandma uses the momentary silence to ask her own question. “What are everyone’s plans for today?”

“Horse riding, hoverbike racing, skinny-dipping in the lake while dad babysits” Gordon replies.

“Solid no on the skinny-dipping Fish, no one wants to see that!” John tells him

“Definitely no skinny-dipping Gordon, if I catch you, I will join you!” Grandma threatens, which just about stops everyone’s appetite!

Penelope can’t stand the wait any further. “Can I open my presents first?”

“No, you have to wait until tomorrow” Gordon replies rolling his eyes. His Penelope is the most impatient woman he has ever met, but surely she can wait another twenty-four hours. He has too!

There is a collective gasp among his brothers. Surely he can’t be serious? He can’t have forgotten that today is Penelope’s birthday, he just can’t.

Penelope stares at him in surprise for a few seconds before the words sink into her brain. He doesn’t even know that it is her birthday, how could he do this to her?

She get up from the table with Gordy Jr and storms from the room before he gets the chance to see the tears silently streaming down her face. He will not get the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“What was that about?” Gordon asks in confusion.

“If you don’t know, we are not going to tell you” Parker tells him in disgust as everyone gets up and leaves until he is alone at the table with nothing but his own confusing thoughts.

*TB*

Lady Penelope is furiously packing, throwing all her clothes into the suitcase without bothering to fold anything, what is the point in perfectly laundered clothing when her whole life just fell apart. She thought that he loved her, but how can he do this? How can he be so selfish and self-absorbed that he forgot her birthday? She is going to make him regret this, one way or another Gordon Tracy is going to regret this.

*TB*

Gordon doesn’t know what to do, he has no idea what went wrong as he sadly gets up from the table and starts to walk towards the rear of the house and the patio where the pool is housed.

The early morning sunshine is warm on the top of his head as he contemplates just diving in fully dressed, into the inviting clear water.

The roars from the engines of FAB one overhead pull him out of his thoughts and he is forced to watch the love of his life fly away with their son, as he allows his own tears to fall.

“How could you?” a voice from behind calls, before he is shoved hard in the back and he falls into the pool. Gasping for air, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to find out who pushed him and finds himself looking into the angry aquamarine eyes of his immediate elder brother.

“J-J-John?!” he stutters as he drags himself up onto the side of the pool. His clothes are soaked and his shoes are ruined as he pulls them from his feet and pours the water out.

“She loved you. You were her person, and she never demanded anything but that love back, and you couldn’t even do that. You are the most selfish, spoiled brat I have ever met and I am so sorry that you’re my brother.” John says his voice is low and menacing with the threat of pushing him back in.

Gordon knows he has messed everything up, and he still has no idea how.

“It’s her birthday you idiot. Those gifts on the table were for her, from all of us. Even Old Joe got her a gift, but you, the so-called love of her life, forgot. I would not blame her if she never spoke to you again”

John turns on his heel and walks away leaving Gordon alone once more.

Gordon knows he should go after her, he knows that he has messed everything up. Penelope is the most stubborn person he has ever met, and usually he loves that about her, as she never gives up on anything, but he knows now that quality will make it impossible to apologise, once her mind is made up there is no changing it.

Sadly he takes the small gift box from his pocket, and opens it up, gazing sadly at the large diamond set in platinum and embraced in a golden ring that he was going to give her this evening after the fun day he had planned for her birthday, but this is one prank that has backfired on him in the worst way as he snaps the box shut and starts to run.

He runs down past the pool and out into the desert, the hot sandy ground is burning the soles of his bare feet as he gets into a rhythm and finds his heart steadying as he focuses on his breathing, and not where he is going.

He runs until he can run no more, and he sinks to the ground, his head buried in his arms and he lets out a painful howl that comes from deep in his soul. He stays in his spot all day, not moving until the sun starts to sink below the horizon to be replaced by a billion stars and a chilly night. He gets to his feet, and starts to walk slowly back to the ranch, where he knows that the chilly air outside will be nothing like the frosty atmosphere that will be waiting for him and he slows his walk even further as the sadness envelopes him once more.

*TB*

The house is ablaze with lights, the security lights on the outside are fully lit as Gordon pushes open the main door and slips inside. His feet are so painful from where the stones have cut and burned the skin, and he wants nothing more than to soak in a hot bath with the scented candles he picked out with Penelope.

Thoughts of Penelope invade his brain, and he realises that it isn’t true, he wants nothing more than to soak in a hot bath with the scented candles and Penelope. That pang of pain flashes through his chest again, and he can feel the hot salty tears threatening to spill over once more as he tries to make it to the stairs unseen.

“There you are. You came back then” John says, spotting him easily, as stealthy is not a word anyone associates with Gordon Tracy.

“Obviously” Virgil answers him rolling his eyes. “Are you okay Gordon?”

Gordon doesn’t reply, he wants to run away again, he can’t face his brothers, knowing that once again he has completely ruined their Christmas.

“Who cares” Alan says. “He ruins everything. We had so much planned for today and he’s destroyed it all. Again.”

“Alan. Stop” Virgil says demanding.

“You always take his side” John says rolling his eyes in disgust.

“Someone has too” Virgil says, his voice starting to rise.

Gordon wishes he could come clean, and admit that it is true that he has once again ruined their Christmas with a poorly thought-out prank, but he can’t. There is no way he can ever tell the truth it has gone too far already.

“Boys. Stop it, all of you, it is Christmas eve and I don’t want any more fighting” Grandma demands. she has had enough of their arguing, they have been doing it all day, and her patience has finally run out.

“We aren’t arguing, we are just…” Scott trails off.

“Arguing” Grandma confirms. “I want all of you upstairs into those matching pyjamas I ordered for you all, and back down here in the next five minutes where we will sit and watch a family Christmas movie and we will have a good time” she doesn’t have to add or else to that, they are aware that it is implied!

*TB*

Five minutes later there are five Tracys in the living room, gathered around the television, all wearing red pyjamas adorned with reindeers and slow flakes, Jeff has lit a fire and the room is warm as cosy and at odds with the frostiness emanating from the rooms inhabitants.

Jeff comes into the room carrying a tray with mugs of steaming peppermint hot chocolate with squirty cream and marshmallows, drizzled with chocolate sauce and rainbow-coloured sprinkles and a plate of Grandma’s freshly baked cookies. He places it carefully on the table, takes a mug, ignores the cookies and sits on the sofa next to Scott.

“Have you chosen a movie yet?” he asks, determined to keep the atmosphere light. He is not surprised that he gets different answers or that none of them met the requirement of Christmas move, he is however surprised that he only gets four answers.

“Top gun” said Scott

“Elvis” said Virgil

“The fast and the furious 37” said Alan

“Superman” said John

He looks at Gordon, who is sitting on the floor staring into the flames of the fire with a blank look on his face, and Jeff knows that he didn’t even know he was in the room, never mind that he asked him a question. ��Gordon?”

“Huh?” Gordon replies, looking around with a startled jump.

“What movie should we watch?” Jeff asks.

“He doesn’t get a vote, as he doesn’t matter” Alan says. “He is only still here because he has nowhere to go now Penelope doesn’t want him, no one wants him”  

“Alan, stop it” Jeff demands, finally losing his temper. “We are a family and it is about time you all remembered that and started to act like one”

Scott opens his mouth to protest when there is a loud bang on the roof and the lights and fire are suddenly extinguished and the house is plunged into darkness.

“Oh great, now what did you do, Gordon!” John says in disgust.

Chapter two: helping deliver gifts

Gordon doesn’t answer, he didn’t do anything, but he knew that he would get the blame. He grabs his phone from his pocket, to turn the torch on, forgetting that it got destroyed this morning by his unexpected swim in the pool and isn’t working, which is just another thing he has messed up. Gordon can’t do anything right.

The lights come back on, and there is a shuffling sound from the fire place before there is a thump on the burnt-out logs and someone dressed from head to toe in red climbs out, brushes soot from their long white hair and straightens up.

“Sorry about that” they say sitting down on the sofa and grabbing one of Grandma’s cookies, and taking a large bite out of it, before spitting it out in disgust. Her cry of “What was that?” is drowned out by Alan’s shout.

“MRS CLAUS!” Alan cries in surprise.

They haven’t seen her since that fateful Christmas two years ago when Alan and Gordon crashed into Santa’s sleigh!

“Boys, I need your help” She tells them, turning the cookie over and over again in her hands, not daring to look at them, as she knows that this is a big thing that she has to ask. And she is risking ruining the family Christmas that was the only thing on Jeff’s Christmas list, and he was at the top of the nice list this year.

“What’s happened? I will do anything as long as I don’t have to dress up as an elf again” John says.

Mrs Claus decides that she doesn’t have the time for any small talk, and just gets straight to the point.

“Santa Claus has been kidnapped by the Hood and Chaos Crew. I have billions of presents at the north pole, and no one to deliver them. International Rescue, I have a situation” she tells the shocked room who after a moment of stunned silence descends into chaos as everyone starts talking at once.

“Missing? What do you mean, missing?” Jeff asks.

“The Chaos Crew? Asks Virgil

“The Hood?” Asks Scott.

“I thought they were in prison?” Asks Alan.

“Do I have to wear that awful outfit again?” asks John.

“Can I ride a reindeer?” Asks Gordon

“He has been kidnapped, the Chaos Crew and the Hood have escaped, yes you do Speedy Twinkle Toes, and no you can’t!” Mrs Claus replies. “Now if there are no more questions, we have Christmas to save, the sleigh is on the roof, come on, up the chimney”

“How are we going to get up there?” Alan asks.

“You need to get your outfits on, then you will have all of the magic of the north pole at your fingertips.”

“Awesome, I can’t wait!” Alan replies, bouncing up and down in delight. He loved being part of Santa’s workshop. “Gimme, gimme, gimme!” he hold his hands out for the bag of clothes that Mrs Claus bought with her, and starts to pull on the red and white stripped tights and green top and hat. He can feel his ears and nose changing shape as he is magically transformed into Gingerbread Happy Feet.

“Look at me dad, I am beautiful!” Alan says excitedly.

“You’re something” Jeff replies. “Where is my outfit?”

“You are going to find Kayo, and help her hunt down Santa for me, according to the nice list she is staying in England with Captain Rigby” Mrs Claus replies. “You can take Thunderbird one”

“I can?” Jeff replies, in disbelief, Scott would never agree to this!

“He can?” Scott asks. There is no way he is losing his Thunderbird.

“He can, Scotty Claus!” Mrs Claus replies. “Now, get your coat on and let’s get going, we are losing time here and we need to deliver ten billion gifts before tomorrow morning”

Up on the roof, Santa’s sleigh and reindeer are waiting for them, ready to take them up to the North Pole.

“How are we going to fit?” John asks, looking into the sleigh where there is only enough room for one.

“That’s easy, we ride the reindeer!” Gordon replies, leaping up onto the back of Blitzen.  “Come one everyone, pick a reindeer!”

“Snowflake Sugar Plum, GET DOWN!” Mrs Claus yells.

“You are no fun!” Gordon replies in disgust, sliding to the floor and climbing into the back of the sleigh, squishing himself in between Virgil and Alan.

“Stop sitting on me” Alan tells him, shoving him into Virgil’s lap.

“I don’t want him, go and sit with John.” Virgil replies, trying to wriggle free from under his brothers weight.

“You think I want him?” John asks. “I would rather eat my own liver than sit next to Squid breath”

“That can be arranged Space Case” Scott tells him from up front, where he is about to take the reins and fly into the night sky. Scott is getting announced with the constant bickering that has taken place since Lady Penelope walked out on them that morning, and unless they start working together this Christmas is going to be a disaster that not even international rescue can save the world from.

“Keep out of this Scotty Claus, this isn’t your battle” Virgil says, as he still struggles to get comfortable in a seat designed for one small elf and not two large humans!

Scott doesn’t see any point in replying, and instead concentrates on lifting off, the sooner he gets this sorted, the sooner he can go back to the ranch, and try so save the perfect family Christmas he so desperately needs. He had so many plans to make this day amazing, instead he is in charge of his wayward arguing siblings, delivering gifts, dressed as Santa and being forced to answer to Scotty Claus. Just as long as Gordon doesn’t start singing that awful song again.

“What awful song Scotty Claus?” Gordon asks.

“Huh, are you reading my thoughts?” Scott replies, confused.

“No, you idiot, you’re thinking aloud!” Gordon informs him. “I have Scotty Claus is coming to town, Johnny the red-haired Tracy or Christmas on the Range”

“None of them!” Scott replies, grateful that he has both hands on the reins and that Gordon doesn’t get the satisfaction of a face palm. Gordon isn’t worth it.

“You are no fun big brother” Gordon insists.

No, he’s serious, something you know absolutely nothing about. It is about time you grew up Gordon.” John is the one who answers him.

The atmosphere within the sleigh is as icy as the air outside as they race towards the North Pole and Santa’s workshop.

Scott lands on the snow-covered lawn, near the thirty foot heavily decorated tree, and the five brothers disembark the sleigh and trudge towards the front door. Which to Gordon’s disappointment now reads Santa’s workshop once more and not Satan’s workshop as that was one of his better prank ideas!

There is a flurry is frenzied activity in the workshop as they enter. Elves are running everywhere, panicking. There’s wrapping paper and ribbons and glitter and bows all over the floor, the naughty/nice list is pinned to the wall and there are three elves fighting over it, trying to figure out where in the list they got too before Santa disappeared.

Scott jumps up on the table and whistles through his fingers to get everyone’s attention. “QUIET!” he roars, in a voice so loud, Alan runs for cover.

“JOHN, TAKE OVER THE NAUGHTY/NICE LIST, ALAN YOU’RE IN CHARGE OF WRAPPING THE REMAINING GIFTS, GORDON YOU CAN SORT THEM INTO NICE EVEN PILES, VIRGIL GET THEM LOADED ONTO THE SLEIGH AND I WILL START DELIVERING.”

“Scotty Claus is back in the game!” Gordon says to John with a grin.

John just walks away without replying, just because he is stuck doing this with Gordon, doesn’t mean he has to start being nice to him, and he certainly isn’t about to forgive him. Gordon destroyed Christmas again, and this was the final time he is allowing this to happen, next year he is going to just spend it on thunderbird five, alone, just how he likes it.

 The naughty list seems to be even longer than the one from two years ago, and he puts it towards the back to start on the nice list, as he feels once he has gotten to his name then he will feel a lot better about this, after all he is sacrificing his Christmas for this, so he clearly belongs on the nice list.

 But page after page he sorts through, and he finds Alan, Virgil and Scott, but there is no sign of his name, and he is starting to get frustrated as he passes the names to Alan so that he can wrap the gifts.

Alan loves wrapping presents, and after all the criticism he received from the last time he did this, he has spent two years practicing and each gift is neatly packaged with a bright red ribbon and a glittery bow before he adds them to the next part of the process, where Gordon is sorting the boxes into neat piles, twelve feet high near the door so that Virgil can load them into the waiting sleigh.

The atmosphere is tense, and no one is talking as they focus on their tasks, determined to save Christmas this year.

Gordon is at the top of the fifteen-foot ladder when John finally spots his own name.

At the top of the naughty list.

“WHAT?!” he cries out in horror, causing Alan to jump in surprise as he jumps backwards into a large pile of gifts, which crash into the ladder and knock Gordon flying head first into the wall before he slides down to the ground and is buried in the rubble from a million shattered dreams from children who are now unlikely to ever get their gifts.

“GORDON?!” Virgil shouts in shock as he races over to his brother, to try and rescue him from the mess. “HELP ME!”

John is frozen in his spot near the list. What has he done?

Chapter three: A Christmas Miracle

Scott, Virgil, Alan and John start to move the broken packages out of the way, determined to get to Gordon, he is going to be fine, this is just part of the classic Gordon Tracy Christmas, he plays a prank, he ruins Christmas, then he does something silly and they all forgive him.

It is their thing!

Virgil feels a small amount of relief when he realises that Gordon is still breathing, but he’s unconscious.

Scott does the medscan which confirms concussion, a broken leg and three rib fractures, as they move him from the floor into the well-stocked med bay of Santa’s infirmary.

John sits down next to the bed, and starts to cry.

This is why he was on the naughty list. Accusing Gordon of being selfish, and ruining Christmas and all he has done is the exact same thing. If he hadn’t cried out, Alan would have never been startled, Gordon would have not fallen from the ladder and they would still be on track to save Christmas.

Gordon hasn’t ruined Christmas at all, he has.

“You okay?” Scott asks, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I am fine, Scott.” John replies, not bothering to lift his head up, he can’t look Scott in the eye and admit the truth. His little brother is in a coma because of him.

“We have to get back to work. He is fine here, Mrs Claus will look after him for us, but there’s a billion children depending on us John.” Scott’s voice is soft, and not his usual demanding self, as he helps John to his feet, and they leave the workshop’s infirmary and the slow steady beeping from the machines, the only sound in the room, keeping their Squid with them, and back out to the chaos of the main work shop.

Alan and Virgil are here, gathering the intact presents and rewrapping them, leaving the broken ones in a large pile in the corner of the room to be replaced with the other elves working feverishly to repair thousands of toys There is even a model thunderbird four!

“It is Christmas day in Australia, its time to go” Scott says almost an hour later, as he has been piling the toys into the sleigh ready for delivery.

“Can I go with you?” Alan asks, “Top of my Christmas list was to spend time with my brothers.”

John snorts with laughter. He read the nice list, Alan’s was a new games console, his siblings weren’t even mentioned!

“Why don’t we all go?” Virgil asks.

“What about Gordon?” Alan asks.

“He will be safe here, if we all go we can get back to him faster.” Virgil replies.

Scott nods. “Okay, but I get to fly the sleigh!”

This time there is no fighting over seats, as they all squash into the driver’s seat with Scott, as the gifts are taking up all of the room. John is on Scott’s left, Virgil on the right and Alan is on the floor near John’s feet.

“How is it still only Christmas Eve, it feels like this day has lasted about four months” Alan asks, as they fly towards their first destination.

“That’s the magic of Christmas Eve, Alan” Scott replies, remembering from his last trip delivering gifts.

“Yeah, but how does it work?” Alan asks.

“I can’t reveal all of Santa’s secrets Al!” Scott replies with a grin.

“Spoilsport!” Alan replies, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Maybe one day!” Scott promises, before slowing the sleigh down for their first delivery, landing the sleigh on top of the roof of a two storey brick building with a steep roof, which flattens down on their landing while Alan looks on in amazement.

“How did you do that?” he asks.

“Not telling you! Where are the presents for this one, I will pop down the chimney and deliver them” Scott replies.

“No way, I am going!” Alan says, grabbing the top three presents from the and jumping up on top of the chimney.

“ALAN NO! COME BACK!” Scott calls, as his youngest brother tries to fit in the chimney, only to get stuck in the chimney cap, up to his arms.

“HELP!” he calls, in embarrassment.

“I warned you!” Scott says trying and failing to hold back his laughter.

Scott and Virgil grab him under the armpits and heave him free from the chimney, and he goes back to the sleigh in humiliation.

“How does Scott do it? it isn’t fair!” Alan moans to John while they watch Scott shrink into mini Scotty Claus who fits perfectly in the chimney with the freshly shrunken gifts.

John doesn’t know, and despite his own misery he can’t help but feel intrigued by the mystery. “I don’t know, how does Scott do it?”

“Maybe he went to Hogwarts” Virgil replies.

“That is Scotty Claus’ big secret” Scott tells them as he climbs back aboard the sleigh and once more takes up the reins.

“Did you at least bring us the cookies and coffee?” Virgil asks.

“Sorry, maybe next time!” Scott replies.

“But Scotty I want coffee!” Virgil whines.

“You always want coffee!” John reminds him. “You are an addict”

“I am not, the coffee is addicted to me” Virgil replies.

“Did you really go to Hogwarts Scott? I thought you went to Yale!” Alan asks.

“Lumos” Scott replies, and to everyone’s surprise the lights on the sleigh are suddenly illuminated.

“No way!” Alan is impressed. “You’re a wizard?”

“Maybe!” Scott replies, as he ducks down chimneys, delivering gifts and taking plates of cookies, cups of coffee and bags of carrots and apples for the reindeer, as they are working just as hard as he is, and deserve treats too.

They traverse the globe for hours, but it is still Christmas Eve when they land on the lawn of the Creighton-Ward manor.

The house is dark, and there is no one home as Scott quietly lets himself in and leaves presents under the tree for Lady Penelope, Gordy, Sherbet and Parker before sadly leaving the house. He had hoped that she would be here.

“They aren’t home” he tells his brothers in disappointment, as he once again takes the reins and soaks up the change in atmosphere, as they were all secretly hoping to speak to Lady Penelope, to explain everything.

“Is it still Christmas Eve?” Alan asks, as they fly over the Atlantic towards America.

“It is” Scott informs him.

“How? We have been out here for hours” Alan asks, not knowing is the most frustrating experience of his life!

“Can you just believe in the magic?” Scott asks, he’s trying not to laugh, but it is getting harder as Alan gets more and more annoyed with him.

“Nope!” Alan replies.

As the piles of gifts get smaller, there is more room to spread out, but they don’t. instead they choose togetherness, even if it doesn’t feel right without Gordon. There is a squid shaped hole in all of their hearts, and now the sleigh is empty, Christmas has been saved, it is time to get back to the north pole and start to fix their own Christmas.

“Can I ride the reindeer on the way back?” Alan asks.

“What do you think?” Scott replies.

“Yes” Alan says confidently.

“Try again” Scott says.

“Maybe?” Alan tries.

“You get one more try to get the right answer” Scott says.

“Fine, I will just fly the sleigh instead, you can’t keep hogging all the fun jobs!” Alan tells him.

“Yeah I can, I am the big brother!” Scott says laughing, as he pulls the reindeer to the north and they start the final part of their journey.

It is snowing heavily when they arrive, and they take the reindeer straight into the stables so that they can rest.

“Your turn to play with the reindeer Al, they need their stalls cleaning out” Scott tells him and he turns with John and Virgil and they run back out into the snow laughing leaving Alan with a pitchfork and wheel barrow.

There are ten in total, and Alan turns his attention to the first one, but to his relief it has recently been cleaned, as have the others.

“SCOTT!” he yells as he stomps out of the stables and through the snowy grounds to the main workshop.

“Yes” Scott replies, laughing.

“You aren’t funny” Alan tells him.

“Yeah, but I am adorable!” Scott replies.

“Hi Alan” A voice calls from the other side of the room, and his attention is torn from Scott to a new arrival.

“DAD!” he calls in delight, running across the room and into his father’s arms. “Scott is so mean Dad. He wouldn’t let me do anything fun”

“You mean he kept you safe?” Jeff replies.

“No fun!” Alan insists.

“Did you find Santa?” Alan asks, remembering why they are here.

“Why don’t we check on Gordon first, then I will tell you all about it” Jeff replies.

Gordon is still unconscious, his broken leg has been set and is resting on top of the blanket, encased in a bright yellow cast.

“Is he going to be okay?” Alan asks. Shrinking back against the door. He hates seeing Gordon so still and quiet, two abilities everyone was certain that their fish didn’t possess.

“I don’t know. He has suffered a severe head trauma. We don’t know if he will ever wake up.” Jeff replies, sadly, his arms wrapped around Alan, who like John is feeling a significant amount of guilt over Gordon getting hurt.

“I thought if we went on the mission that everything would be okay. This was meant to finally be the perfect Christmas, and it’s been a disaster” Alan says, all the tears that he has been holding back start to spill out over his cheeks as he cries on his father’s shoulder.

Jeff leads Alan into a small office just off the infirmary and hands him a box of tissues.

“Tracy family tradition, worst ever Christmas. Every time you say next year can’t be worse it gets worse. Maybe the key is to not have any expectations” Jeff says. “How about next year we just plan the worst Christmas ever, and then maybe the universe will come through.”

“Do you think that will work?” Alan asks.

“Remember the year Gordon fell off the roof?” Jeff asks.

“Yeah, that’s the year Virgil reckons was his favourite ever Christmas!”

“Then there was the year he got your mum a pet squirrel!” Jeff says laughing.

“Niblet! I loved Niblet!”

“And you won’t remember this as you were just a baby, but there was the year he flooded the laundry room, steel wooled my desk, shredded all my important files, broke the hoover and set the kitchen on fire” Jeff says.

“All in one year?” Alan asks.

“All in the space of four hours!” Jeff replies. “It is why we love him, life with Gordon is never boring!”

“Can I go and sit with him?” Alan asks, suddenly realising that he is brave enough to be there for him.

“Of course, I am going to make hot chocolate I will bring you in some” Jeff replies.

Alan leaves the office and goes back to the infirmary, but Gordon is no longer alone.

Sitting next to him, is Lady Penelope. Her eyes are read from crying and exhaustion, as she holds his hand in hers, using her spare hand to gently stroke the hair from his face as she sings softly.

“Oh give me a home, where the rescuers roam

Where the squid and the rocket boy play

Where seldom is heard, roars from the Thunderbirds

And Scotty’s not grumpy all day!”

Gordon’s fingers start to twitch, to grip her hand, to let her know that he is there with her, that he is never going to leave her side ever again.

“Christmas on the range

Where the squid and the rocket boy play

Where seldom is heard, roars from the Thunderbirds

And Scotty’s not grumpy all day!”

Alan starts to sing too, as he enters the room fully, followed by his father, Scott, Virgil and John and they sing together. Finally united, as they should have been all of this time.

“How often at night when the heavens are bright

With the lights from the glittering stars

Has John stood there amazed and asked as he gazed

Does their wonder exceed Virgil’s art!”

“Do you take requests?” Gordon croaks.

“GORDON!” they all cry in unison as they race towards the bed.

“OW!” he moans. “My head hurts. What happened?” he asks.

“You got crushed by Christmas presents!” Alan says. “Sorry about that!”

“Penny, I didn’t forget your birthday, I just need to learn when pranks aren’t appropriate, but I got you a really awesome gift” Gordon says.

“I know you didn’t” Penelope replies. “And the answer is yes.”

“Yes?” Gordon replies in shock.

“Yes, I would be honoured to marry you. I love you so much Gordon, I don’t want to live another day on this earth without you”

“How did you find out about all of this?” Scott asks.

“I felt it. Here” Lady Penelope replies, holding her hand over her heart. “He needed me”

“Did you ever find Santa?” Gordon asks.

“We will talk about that later; you need to rest” Jeff replies cryptically.

“Dad, was he ever missing or was this to get us to stop arguing? I have played enough pranks in my time to know when I am being set up!” Gordon replies, the truth suddenly dawning on him.

“If I say yes, but you were never meant to get hurt and all five of you were supposed to be delivering gifts and learning to work together, it worked didn’t it!” Jeff said.

“I’m in too much pain for a revenge prank” Gordon announces.

“No revenge prank?” Jeff replies, in shock.

“It really is a Christmas miracle dad!” Alan replies laughing.

[emtb319]

WIP Wednesday

Please forgive me for this.  In my defense, I woke up at 2:30 this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I decided to try to write a bit for my daily goal.  That turned into getting Joe Diffie’s song "3rd Rock from the Sun" stuck in my head…and well…this happened.

Total word count for my 100 word a day challenge this month so far: 3814 words.

Thunderbirds are Go universe 

It started with his brother’s alarm clock.  Tired of it just being reset to wake the entire house every 10 minutes, they had gotten him one of the ones that rolls away until you get up to capture it to shut it off.  Except today, the rolling noise pollution rolled right out of his little brother’s room, down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

Virgil groaned.  Scott and Gordon were on a callout, and Alan obviously was not getting his alarm.  When he went to get up out of bed, his foot got caught in his blanket, and he landed nose first on the floor.  Once free from the offending fabric, he went to the bathroom for a rag to put on his bloody nose.  He could hear the alarm going off downstairs.

When he managed to get down to the kitchen, he found the alarm clock wedged underneath the pantry door.  Because of the clock, he couldn’t get the door open, and the button to silence it was on the pantry side.  In the end, he had to remove the door at the hinges to get to the alarm to silence it.  He threw it away from him and hit the table, where he had put the pins for the hinges.  They rolled off of the table and underneath the oven.

“Ugh…I am not moving the oven…”  Virgil yelled in frustration.  Either he had the replacement pins he needed in his shop or the pantry wouldn’t have a door anymore.  “Coffee…I need coffee…Who touched my coffee?!?”  He found a note in place of his coffee can.

Sorry, needed the extra caffeine this morning and now the callout.  I promise to bring back more.  -Gordon-  “Arrgh!”  Brains heard the commotion and came to investigate.  

“I-I know it’s not coffee, but I-I have some Russian Caravan t-tea.  I-I could brew us some.”  Virgil pinched his nose before he remembered that it hurt.

“Thanks.  It’s been a…morning…already.  I should just go back to bed, but I can’t.”  Brains nodded, he understood.  He took care of the kettle while Virgil went back upstairs to clean himself up again.

The tea was good.  Not as good as his coffee, but for the moment it sufficed.  He decided to make some toast for breakfast.  Another bad idea.  He bit his tongue instead of the toast.

Virgil decided that he needed to tinker, something very mindless to help restart his morning.  But…someone moved his tools around.  It took him over an hour to put things back where they belonged, but his hammer and flat head screwdriver were missing.

“Kitchen…ugh.”  Alan was awake and eating the rest of Virgil’s abandoned toast when Virgil got back up to the kitchen.

“Hey Virg.”  Virgil grunted instead of answering.  “That actually answers a lot.”  Alan gestured around.  “All of this because of that stupid alarm clock Scott bought me?”

“Yes, by the way, I owe you a new one, but I refuse to buy another rolling one.  I have to do a supply run anyway.  Want to go with me?”

“Is it safe?”  Alan joked.

“Ha..ha..funny boy.  Much less safe for everyone if I don’t restock my coffee.”  Hammer and screwdriver forgotten, they went down to the hangar.  “Who forgot to refuel her?”  Another roadblock.  Virgil was fast losing his patience with the universe.

“I think Scott and Grandma had her out last.”  Alan answered, as he connected the fuel nozzle.  “Why don’t you get the pre-order in.  This way, we’re not wandering around.”  His big brother was far too grumpy to be shopping for out-of-stock items.

“Good idea…ugh…we have to make 2 stops.  I am not coming back without my coffee.”

“That’s fine.  It’ll be nice to have some me and you time.  Ready to go?”  Virgil smiled.  He was grumpy, and Alan was still trying to cheer him up.

“Take the captain’s seat little brother.  Let’s get you some flight hours while we’re at it.”

Virgil smiled as they landed.  The flight to the mainland was perfect, and so was Alan’s landing.  He was becoming a pretty good pilot.  He just needed the practice time.

Stop 1 was for some hot coffee.  Coffee #1 was spilled all over his lap when a young child bumped his arm.  Virgil laughed.  He has so many emotions run through him all at once, that all he could do was laugh.  Coffee #2 managed to make it into his stomach.  Coffee #3 was taken to-go with a very secure lid.  

Stops 2 and 3 went well.  They secured all of the groceries in the plane., then decided to grab a quick lunch.  One of the airport workers recommended a bar-b-que place nearby.

“Need a bib big brother?”  Alan tried to joke with him.  Virgil was in fresh clothes, but he didn’t have another pair.

“Not funny and no.”  He wasn’t really mad, but the universe had used up its allotment of ‘pound the snot out of Virgil today’, right?

The food was good.  Virgil added it to the list of must visit places after callouts.  They ordered extra to take home for dinner and made sure to secure it with the rest of their groceries before they took off.  Their flight home was relatively uneventful, save for a tiny bit of turbulence.

While Virgil secured the plane and refueled her, Alan went to grab the bag of food and some of the groceries that needed to go to the kitchen instead of storage.  “Shit…”

“Language…and what happened?”

“Umm…”  No…no…no…not that bag.  That could not be what fell and exploded all over the place.  Virgil looked over Alan’s shoulder and groaned.  He pinched his injured nose.  “I’m calling Scott right now and will put another pre-order in.  If we just tell them to pick it up, they’ll forget.”  Virgil tossed up his arms.

“I can’t catch a break today!”

“Virgil go.  I’ll handle this.  Go to the gym and hit a bag for a while.”

[idontknowreallywhy]

Very veeeeeery remotely linked to Day 2’s prompt (blink and you’ll miss it) but here is a bit of a sequel to Inebriated Fishtank… in which they have not entirely ceased to be under the influence…

💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚

An enthusiastic steel drum version of ‘Under the Sea’ blared out and Scott slammed his hand on to the comm, eyes still screwed shut… if he didn’t open them he wasn’t awake. And it could have been a butt-call…

He’d never prayed so hard for it to be a butt-call.

“Hey heeeeeeeey Scooooty-McNoodle!!!”

Scott pried an eye open to glare in the general direction of heaven…

“Hello Gordon. Which police station?”

“I am OFFENDEDED ancient brosicle! How could you pres… presufimicate such a thing?”

“You don’t need bail? Then why are you calling me? Go to bed you drunken fool.”

“Ah yea about that… “

‘What about it? Just sleep it off.”

“So… funny story! My fuzzy wuzzy beary pops actually did the whole arrangementing of beds thing.”

Wait.

Scott’s brain clicked up a gear from basic muscle memory to something resembling cognition.

“Gordon where is Virgil?!”

“He’s here!”

“Can I speak to him?”

“Um… noooooooooo”

There were several voices worth of giggling, none of which sounded like Virgil.

“Who’s with you? Where is Virgil?”

“Oh how rude of me over here we got…” There was a clatter and his brother’s voice faded out amongst some more distant giggling before Gordon returned, piercingly loudly:

“Stooopid floor. Anyways here we got Florrie, Alice and Alexi, say hi to Scooter ladies, he’s my biggest olderist bro and he’s even sexier than me and old dribbles here.”

A chorus of “Hi Scooter”

“Gordon! What’s wrong with Virgil?”

“You gotta say hi!”

“Gordon!!”

“You’re being rude! Say hi to the ladies!”

“Hi ladies” Scott muttered.

“NICELY!”

Scott knew an immovable squid wall when he heard it. Fine. He turned up the charm, and the volume, to max.

“Hello ladies!”

“Owie! Geez bro.”

“Virgil, Gordon?!”

“Yeah he’s pretty handsome. Look… see? He was on front’ve Vogue that one time. Still single too! Sure I can give you his number…”

“GORDON!!”

“Heeeeeeeeey bro. Love you bro. Love all the bros. Specially the grumpy turtle one.”

Scott tried another tack

“I love you too squid, but what happened to the grumpy turtle one?”

“Hezzzz a snooooozy liddle turtle.”

“So he’s in bed?”

“Nooo I toldja he’s here. Say hi Virgie.”

Silence.

“Awww he droolin’”

Scott was beginning to join the dots here.

“Gordon, please tell me Virgil wasn’t trying to match you?”

“I can one hunderb percival tell you that.”

“Would it be true?”

A pause and a definite snort in the background.

“Noooooooooooooooo”

Oh no.

If he’d consumed enough to make Gordon tipsy, there was no way Gordon and three women were going to be able to move the bear. He thought Virgil knew better.

Scott got up and put his trousers on. He could get to Brisbane in a few minutes in One…

There was more giggling and a deep bellowing laugh followed by a grunt.

“Omigosh I’m sorry I can help… gimme his arm… oopsy tha’s ‘is leg.”

More rustling noises.

“Oh I am sooooo bad manners! Scotty you gonna say hola to Juan too, he’s helping.”

“Hola Juan. Gordon, where are you? Do I need to come get you?”

“Naaaaw we goddim Scooteywoo”

“Then why are you calling Squid?”

“Need the bed place.”

“I don’t know where he booked Gords! Stay put I’ll come and get you.”

“Nawwwww I wanna take him to the art tom… tom… tomorning. Art ‘n waffles…. I pinky promised the Virg!”

Scott rested his head against the wall and counted to ten.

“What do you need Gordon?”

“T’get in his phone! I dunno his pass-thing! Need to find the resersermmmnn”

Scott did know it There were a million and one reasons why Gordon did not.

But he could either spill the beans now and take the consequences later, or head out to find them just in time for one or both of them to be sick on his shoes. Or in One. He shivered. No option really.

“Gordon you have to promise not to do anything bad with Virgil’s phone.”

“Yeah yeah I’m a good fishy”

“Gordon, pinky promise me.”

There was a tut and Scott could almost hear the eyeroll.

“I can’t reach your pinky to promise!”

“Fine. Pinky promise Juan then.”

Gordon did a stage whisper

“He doesn’ know a huge lodda English Scoobydoo.”

“Ok err” Scott racked his brains “could you put um, Alex was it? On the phone?”

Gordon huffed.

Rustling.

“Well hello there, handsome, this is Alexi.”

Pushing down the desire to bring about Gordon’s imminent demise, Scott had a sudden brainwave and put the charming voice on again. Yes, giving a total stranger access to his brother’s phone was a risk but less of one than allowing Gordon unfettered access without the security of a pinky promise - generally accepted to be the only law he considered himself bound by.

“Alexi listen carefully, I’m going to give you the passcode. Could you use it to find the reservation then lock the phone again please?”

“Sure, honey.” The reply was breathy. Intimidatingly breathy.

“Ok, you ready?”

“I’m all yours”

Shudder.

“Exclamation mark, eight, one, zero, zero, capital D, lower case Y, exclamation mark; capital F, one, five, lower case H, exclamation mark.”

“Ok honey that worked, I’m in. I’ll get your brothers to their hotel. I’ll leave my number on your brother’s phone just in case you need it later, ok?” She was essentially purring now.

“Oh that won’t be…” Scott paused. He needed all the allies he could get here.

He cleared his throat “That would be lovely, thank you for your help Alexi.”

There was a shriek and more unmistakable giggling as Scott hung up with a wry smile before collapsing back on to his bed and closing his eyes. Good luck Juan and co.

Aa he drifted off he considered how it was a shame Virgil would have to change that one tomorrow.

It was so apt.

💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛💚💛

[gumnut-logic]

John found him in module two.

His second eldest brother was sitting beside the pod, pieces of it spread around him, staring at nothing.

John leant against the hatchway and quietly watched him. From the moment Grandma had reported the avalanche, John knew he would have to come home tonight. Avalanche rescues always messed with the family, particularly Scott and Virgil. He would be lying if he said they didn’t affect him, but he wasn’t boots on ground. He didn’t have to watch that wave of white bearing down on those he loved.

He hadn’t been the one there on that fateful day.

Virgil wore a frown as if he was glaring at something or someone John couldn’t see.

John had already checked in on Scott...on the other side of the Island and still moving. He’d be out running for a while and likely would come back and give the gym a work out.

Virgil was more subtle. He tended to pound the piano or vanish into his studio. On the rare occasion he could be found beside Scott either pummelling a sandbag or his brother on the spar mat. To find him here was a little odd.

“I’m okay, John.” Those eyes were suddenly fixed on the astronaut. “How’s Gordon?”

He pushed himself off the hatchway and entered the module. His spacesuited feet hardly made a sound. “He’s as well as can be expected. He’s with Alan.” A few more silent footsteps and John sat down quietly beside his brother. “What are you doing?”

His brother reached down and picked up a piece of pod mechanics. “Just checking the system after today’s rescue.”

John eyed exactly what Virgil had pulled apart. He was pretty sure it was the side of the module that hadn’t been used...and the same he and Scott had finished maintenance on that morning.

Busywork?

“I’m okay, John. You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry is my business.”

Brown eyes glanced up at him. “I thought that was in Scott’s portfolio.”

“Different perspective.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow before picking up another piece of pod and shoving it into the storage case. Several more pieces followed with no further attempt at conversation.

“Alan said you were grumpy for most of the day.”

That did it. His usually quiet brother flared up like a snake prodded with a hot poker. “He did, did he? Did he also tell you that he has turned Max into his personal slave so he can sit on his butt and watch videos while the rest of us work our asses off?”

“Not in so many words, no.” Calm and considered.

It succeeded. Virgil deflated. “No, he wouldn’t.” His brother returned to shifting around mechanical parts.

“How is Scott?”

His brother froze. “How do you think he is. Alan was nearly buried in an avalanche. I expect to be repairing gym equipment tomorrow.” Virgil stood up and put his back into moving the equipment into the locker.

“No one was injured. We’re all safe.”

“Yes, we are.” A chunk of pod landed on the module floor with a massive clang and Virgil swore.

Reaching down, John picked up the piece of machinery and, standing, held it out to his brother. Virgil looked at him with sad eyes. “Thank you.” It was taken from his hand and stashed beside its siblings.

“Gordon was very impressed.”

Virgil paused a moment, but then returned to shifting equipment. “With what?”

“With you.”

That was enough to stop him. “Gordon?”

John struggled to hold back a smile. “In his words...’Oh my god, yeeeah! Go Virg!’”

Virgil blinked at him and John could no longer hold back the grin. “Can’t say I wasn’t impressed myself.”

He watched his brother fight the urge to smile. “The new grapple gun performed well.”

John rolled his eyes. “You performed well, Virgil. There is no harm in taking credit where it is due.”

“I’m just glad I got Alan off the side of that mountain.” And the glum was back.

John sighed to himself as Virgil shut the equipment locker. “What is it, Virgil? What’s bugging you? Because all I can see is a successful rescue with a great outcome.”

His brother rounded on him. “It was pure chance, John. So damn close and it shouldn’t have been!” Virgil’s eyes flared at him in anger, but not at John, but...

At himself.

“How?”

Virgil’s brows knotted even more. “I knew that mountain was coming down. I had sensors on it. I was sitting there waiting with nothing else to do but stare at the damn thing, and it still caught me by surprise!” Virgil shoved the locker against the wall with a bang. John blinked at the strength his brother wielded. “There shouldn’t have been a dramatic rescue, I should have been there already!” Virgil turned away. “Alan and Brandon could have died because I wasn’t on the ball.”

John stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

The glare Virgil shot him was enough to flay him alive. “Do I look like I have a sense of humour right now?”

“Virgil-“

But his brother wasn’t finished. “We can have all the equipment in the world and it won’t mean jack shit if I’m not good enough to deploy it in time.”

“Virgil-“

“And Alan. We could have lost Alan. I-I can’t...not like Mom, please not like Mom.”

John’s eyes widened. “Virgil, take a breath. He’s okay. We’re all okay.”

Brown eyes stared up at him. “I fucked up so bad.”

John reached over and took his brother by his shoulders. “Virgil! How can you possibly say that? Did you see what you did?”

“I saw exactly what I did. Why wasn’t I airborne sooner? Why did I wait until the vibration sensor was in MOTION before making a move? It was seconds, John, seconds. I didn’t think I was going to make it. They could have been buried alive.” Like Mom.

That last might as well have been shouted with the rest.

“But they weren’t”

“Pure luck.”

“No! Virgil Tracy! You were on the scene. You were there. There was no way anything was going to happen to either of them with you in play, Virgil. You know this. I know this. I have seen you face far more than a falling mountain. It didn’t stand a chance.”

“John-“

“You listen to me. I know you. I watch you day in and day out. I may be twenty-two thousand kilometres away, but I am with you every step every rescue and, goddamnit, Virgil, those seconds may well have been hours for all they mattered.” He glared at his brother. “How many times have you sat back in a situation, watching, only to step in and save the day when it most counts? You sit there quietly, calculating, planning, knowing exactly when to intervene. You are our rock, Virgil. Solid, dependable and inevitable. And god forbid anything gets in your way once you get moving.”

John’s lips were tight and his heart thudding. Virgil stood staring at him, eyes wide.

Quietly. “When I’m so far above and someone is screaming, you are the hands I reach out to catch them with. I trust those hands with so many lives, Virgil. So many people calling for help and I have no need for faith because I KNOW you will do everything you can. Just like you did today.” A breath. “Don’t doubt yourself. I never have.”

He let his brother go and straightened.

Virgil was still staring at him. It wasn’t often John put so much into words, but the self-doubt in his brother’s eyes just demanded it. Perhaps it would have enough impact to sink in.

In the meantime, back to basics.

“Have you eaten?”

Virgil blinked. “What?”

Obviously not.

“Food, Virgil. Fuel for your engine.”

“Oh, uh...”

“I didn’t think so. C’mon, big brother, sustenance will help change your perspective.” John grabbed Virgil’s arm and nudged him in the direction of the module hatchway. Still staring, Virgil did as he was told.

“I’m the big brother, John.”

“Yeah? Well, sometimes big brothers need corralling as much as younger brothers. I thought you’d understand that with Scott on your radar so much.”

Virgil blinked. “I see your point.”

John held onto Virgil the entire elevator ride up to the residential levels. He didn’t let go until his brother was seated at the kitchen table. The acquisition of a simple sandwich and John plopped both the food and himself down in front of Virgil. “Now eat.”

“Are you going to watch my every bite?” A definite frown was forming like a storm cell on his brother’s brow.

“No, I’m just going to sit here and enjoy your company.” A thought. “Might even have a beer. You want one?” He stood up again and rummaged in the fridge.

Another blink. “Aren’t you going back up tonight? Doesn’t Brains need you?”

“No, I have more important things to attend to down here.” Ooh, some of Scott’s boutique beer. He eyed the label. Expensive boutique beer. It would do the job. Two bottles landed on the table.

“You know they are Scott’s.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Your funeral, I guess.”

“He’ll survive. Eat your sandwich.”

Virgil was staring at him again.

John sighed. “Is it really so shocking that I care about you?”

“No! It’s just...” Virgil’s shoulders settled a little. “Thank you, John.”

“No thanks needed, just trust yourself a little more.” He pinned his brother with his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now eat your sandwich.”

John held back a smile when Virgil immediately bit into his bread.

-o-o-o-

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Ribbons and Rainstorms

Chapter 16 : Dinner With Family

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<- Previous | Masterpost | Next ->

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When Roman got back to the house what felt like hours later, he was exhausted. He hadn’t been called back, just like he expected, but he’d been waiting in the wings the whole time, walking around, talking to the other trainees. He had given support and encouragement when he could, but now all he really wanted to do was go to the Temple and cuddle Virgil for the rest of eternity. 

The house, he had to go to the house first. Taz would want to congratulate — and probably fuss over — him too, not to mention he needed to eat. Gosh, he was hungry. For the first time in years, Taz hadn’t quite forced enough food on him to get him through the day. 

And he was sure he could get a hug from Virgil at the house too. So house it was. 

When he arrived, Roman could see that the windows of the house were thrown wide open, and wafting from them was such a delicious smell that Roman embarrassingly picked up the pace at which he walked around the house to get to the door, which was also ajar. 

A little confused, he poked his head inside, only to sigh in relief when he saw both his mother and Virgil in the kitchen and also discovered the reason for all the open windows — it was extremely hot inside. His mother stood at the stove, cooking something that smelled absolutely wondrous — even more so now that he was inside — and Virgil was next to her, speaking quietly to her as she worked.

“Guess who’s back!” Roman announced, striding through the door after a moment’s consideration as to his grand entrance. Immediately his Ma and his partner dropped what they were doing to come over. Taz started gushing, congratulating him on how well he’d done and checking to make sure he wasn’t injured. Virgil hung back just a little, dutifully keeping an eye on whatever was bubbling away on the stove whilst she fussed. 

“Ma I’m fine,” Roman brushed her off with a chuckle, “And we don’t even know if I actually passed or not yet.”

“Don’t be silly, hon,” Taz said, scoffing, “A group of grumpy old veterans don’t get to look that impressed for you not to get a pass. Come on, sit down, I’m making quail! With potatoes and bread!”

“Is Virgil helping?” Roman asked, looking over at his partner, who was watching the pot intently enough that they didn’t notice Roman saying their name. 

“Heavens no,” Taz said, “I don’t want another fire in here, the one you caused yourself years ago was enough, he’s… I’m actually not sure what he’s doing.”

“Virgil?” Roman asked, taking a few steps towards the God and tapping his shoulder, “What’cha doing there?”

“Making sure it doesn’t get too hot,” Virgil whispered, not looking up.

“It’s simmering, sweetie,” Taz said with an exasperated sigh, “You don’t need to watch it the whole time.”

“But what if the fire gets too hot and it boils?” Virgil asked, looking up at them. 

“Virgil, I know how to cook potatoes,” She said, gently nudging him away from the stove “Take Roman and go sit at the table, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Virgil sighed, making Roman laugh. Taz had really warmed up to Virgil since the fiasco that was their first meeting and it really showed in the way that she almost treated them like a second son now. Roman was suddenly struck by the wave of guilt that always flooded him when he remembered that he still hadn’t told her about Remus. Soon, he told himself. Now wasn’t the time.

“We’ve been banished to the table, huh,” Roman laughed, plastering a smile on his face and taking the hand Virgil offered him and letting himself be gently tugged into the dining room, where the table was laid with the fancy silverware they only used when high ranking nobles passed through, which was so rare it practically never happened. 

“I suppose we have,” Virgil chuckled, pulling out a chair for Roman before sitting down themself and scooting their chair just a little closer to Roman’s so that he could press their legs together, “Are you okay?”

Oh, of course Virgil had noticed. 

“Yeah?” Roman said, smiling though he felt even more guilty a moment later about lying, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just — looked all sad for a moment,” Virgil said slowly, gesturing to him, “Are you sure?”

“Can we talk about it later?” Roman said, taking a deep breath. 

Virgil nodded, reaching for Roman’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly when he caught it, “Of course.”

A few minutes of slightly awkward silence later, Taz walked into the room carrying a platter housing a steaming bird — a whole bird. Roman groaned, worry forgotten. 

“Ma,” Roman sighed.

“What?” She asked, gasping in offence as she placed the giant cooked bird down on the table. 

“We’re three people, Ma,” Roman said, “Well — when it comes to food, Virgil might count for two, but ma, that quail could feed twelve. On its own.”

“Oh shush,” Taz said, waving him off, “It just means we’ll have leftovers.”

“We may as well invite the whole town in,” Roman said with an exasperated chuckle. 

“Hey,” She said, pointing a gloved hand at him, “Shush or you won’t get any of my blueberry pie later.”

Roman had never gone quiet about something so quickly in his life. Taz made a noise of approval before heading back to the kitchen, returning quickly with a plate of bread rolls, another of roasted potatoes and — from the trip after that — two plates worth of assorted vegetables and sides. Roman smiled at the sight, the amount of food was certainly enough to feed three families, but it smelled wonderful, and tasted brilliant once they began to dig in. 

The conversation flowed over dinner. Roman regaled the tale of the trails from his own perspective, Taz talked about the afternoon she’d spent with Virgil — apparently they’d gone to the shops around the square to get the ingredients for the dinner after Virgil had come to congratulate him.

“Taz showed me the bakery,” Virgil commented, “It was interesting.”

“I had to buy the bread,” Taz admitted, “I would’ve baked it myself, but I didn’t think of it, unfortunately, and I wanted it to be fresh…”

“That’s okay,” Roman smiled, “This is all amazing — I didn’t expect you to break out the silverware.”

Taz scoffed, “What else would we have used? This is a celebration! Honey, today you… you finally achieved something you’ve been working at your whole life, that deserves a little celebration, no?”

“Of course it does,” Roman laughed, “I just — I didn’t expect this.”

“You deserve it,” Virgil said quietly.

“Oh hell,” Roman says, leaning back in his chair, “If this is a celebration for me, Once we’ve eaten I just want to cuddle with Vi and fall asleep, I’m exhausted.”

“If that’s what you want, honey,” Taz laughed as she stood to clear the plates now that they had finished eating, “Wait for dessert though, will you?”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for anything, not even you, Virgil.”

“Understandable,” Virgil nodded solumbly.

“Will you two be heading to the Temple?” Taz asked, when she returned.

“Maybe,” Roman said, yawning.

“You know,” She said, “You are both welcome to stay here in the house, I won’t mind, and Roman’s bedroom is definitely big enough for you both.”

Roman went red, ducking his head and coughing awkwardly, “I would um, I would need to… tidy.”

Smiling, Virgil turned to him, “I don’t mind staying here, and… I don’t really mind a mess either.”

“No I mean—" Roman took a deep breath, before repeating adamantly, “I’d like to clear up a few things, if we stayed here.”

“Okay,” Virgil nodded, “Do you want to stay here?”

Yawning once again, Roman shrugged, “It would be easier, and— in all honesty, I can’t be bothered to walk to the Temple now.”

“Then you can both stay here,” Taz told them, setting down a steaming blueberry pie in the centre of the table. Roman hadn’t even noticed her leave, “Though if I may make one request, I’d like to keep the funny business to a minimum.”

“Ma,” Roman groaned, facepalming.

“Hey!” She raised her hands in surrender, though it didn’t look all that surrender-like as she held the pie slice in her hand, “what you two lovebirds do at that Temple is none of my business, but our walls are thin and I don’t want to hear it.”

“Understood,” Virgil chuckled, “I think Roman’s a little too tired anyway.”

“Damn right,” Roman mumbled, face flaming red

—-

“Give me just a moment,” Roman told Virgil as they approached the door at the top of the stairs to his attic bedroom. When Virgil nodded, Roman opened the door and slipped inside. Quickly gathering up the large bundle of fabric he had almost finished embroidering into his arms and shoving it unceremoniously into his closet and shutting the door — he didn’t want Virgil to see it until it was finished, though by now it almost was. That was really the only thing he had wanted to hide, but he did do a quick glance around to make sure before letting Virgil in. 

Quickly he strode over to his bed, flopping down and patting the spot next to him. Moments later he felt the mattress sink as Virgil sat down. 

“Can you untie my hair?” Roman mumbled into the pillow. Virgil laughed softly and moments later he felt hands working the pins that kept his bun in place carefully out of his har. 

“So,” Virgil said eventually, breaking the silence as the last pin was removed and the bun started to fall apart. Roman tensed a little, because that was the heavy-emotional-talk tone, “What got you upset earlier?”

Roman took a deep breath, peeling himself up from the pillow and sitting up so he could face Virgil properly. 

“I just… noticed how Ma treats you like— like she treats me,” Roman said, “Like you’re her second kid, and it just…”

“Does that bother you?” Virgil asked quietly.

“No,” Roman shook his head, “I think it’s sweet, and funny, I just… it reminded me of… Remus.”

Virgil frowned, shifting closer to him and opening their arms to offer a hug. Roman shuffled closer to press up against them. 

“I’ve been feeling really guilty,” Roman said, “Especially recently, about not telling her— because I know she would still love him, and she’d want to see him and it would make her so happy! But I just— every time I think of telling her she could see him again I clam up and convince myself it’s just not the right time—"

Virgil hummed, running steady fingers through Roman’s hair.

“Are you worried about how she’d react?” Virgil asked softly. 

“Yes,” Roman answered, “She passed out when she met you, and Remus… I love him, but he’s not exactly a six year old anymore, and also…”

“What is it?”

“I’m scared she’ll be upset at me for keeping it from her,” Roman whispered. 

Virgil pulled him closer, embracing him tightly.

“When she meets Remus,” Virgil said into Roman’s hair, “I think that she’ll be happy to be able to see her son again. And maybe she will be upset that you kept it from her, but I don’t blame you, and I don’t think she will either.”

“Really?” Roman asked, voice small.

“Really,” Virgil nodded.

“I should tell her,” Roman said, “I want to tell her.”

“Then we’ll tell her,” Virgil said, squeezing him again, “Maybe we could plan something?”

“That sounds good,” Roman mumbled, “But… I think we should do that in the morning, ‘m tired.”

Laughing, Virgil manoeuvred the pair of them so they could lie down properly on the bed, Virgil still holding Roman tight. Protectively wrapped around him with their hand in Roman’s and their breath tickling the back of his neck. Roman felt safe here — his back pressed into Virgil’s chest — and as his eyes drooped closed, so, so comfortable.

----

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[arsenalgbt]

Begging you to do the Trent/Virgil abo fic even though it didn't win

im so easy like that here's the plot!!!

you know the tube in London is packed PACKED during the rush hour, yeah? omega!trent is pressed against the crowd, minding his own business, and suddenly some perv is feeling him up. groping his ass and waist. he freezes, only because he doesn't want to make a scene! enter very tol very grumpy scary looking alpha snatching the perv's hand, causing the perv to make a scene lmaooooooo

trent: 😡 i had it under control, the fuck do you think u are? just because im an omega doesn't mean---

virg: 🥲 I just got laid off today, sorry

[kieraelieson]

Virgil laid his hands over the dark soil, gently coaxing at the mycelium network to reform the line of mushrooms delineating the edge of his circle.

“Virge!” A shrill little pixie shouted.

Virgil looked up at Patton, who was shivering in midair with fury. “Wha-what’s up? What happened?”

Patton flew forward and tugged at a lock of Virgil’s hair. “You have a human in your house! A hurt human!”

Virgil swatted gently at the pixie. “Yeah, and?”

Patton pinched at Virgil’s ear. “And he’s hurt! And you’re not doing anything about it!”

Virgil swatted again, shooing the pixie away from his head. “He’s fine, I checked. Nothing life threatening.”

Patton let out a little shriek. “Whatever happened to hospitality?! He’s hurt!! It doesn’t matter that he won’t die!”

Virgil huffed. “He’s mine, he gave me his name. Hospitality doesn’t apply. What, do you want me to do this as a personal favor to you?”

Most pixies, including Patton on several other occasions, would immediately back off on the implication that they would then owe Virgil for a favor. But not this time, this time the little pixie answered with an emphatic, “Yes!”

Virgil sighed and stood up. “Alright fine, I’ll heal the human. Remember that this is a favor.”

Patton nodded firmly, his arms crossed over his chest.

He followed Virgil closely all the way back to his house.

The human startled up from the couch as Virgil opened the door. It clearly hurt him, judging by the wince. But then he looked at Virgil, and a pleasing blend of intimidation and awe began to flow from him.

Virgil smirked. “Heya, Princey.”

He blinked, his mouth falling open with a number of confused noises. There was a subtle change to his emotions, hard to parse, but incredibly delicious.

“Popstar here insists I should give you proper hospitality,” Virgil said, starting to collect a few ingredients for a healing potion.

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Virgil’s gaze snapped to the human, casually admitting a debt.

Roman’s eyes went wide, and his mouth shut with a click. “I-I meant, ah- um… I appreciate the kindness.”

Virgil shook his head with a small smile. “You’re probably lucky you already gave your name away.”

There was a little tug at Virgil’s hair in reproach.

“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Patton said to Roman. “He’s a grumpy little goober, but he won’t be mean.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, starting to assemble a fairly basic healing potion.

“Is your name Popstar, then?” Roman asked.

Patton giggled. “No, that’s just a nickname, silly! Vee wouldn’t give out my real name like that.”

“Oh,” Roman said. “Then, you’re also…?”

Virgil turned, finished potion in a bowl. “No. There are ways to tell a name without giving it.”

Roman became cutely confused. “I didn’t know that.”

Virgil reached out, tracing a finger along his jawline. “I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know, Princey.”

That delicious emotion reappeared, along with a slight flush to the man’s cheeks. Was it fluster?

Virgil put the bowl into his hand. “Think you can drink for me?”

He was almost certain now, it must be that he was flustering Roman.

Roman put the bowl to his lips, tipping it up. His throat spasmed nearly immediately.

Virgil grabbed the bowl, not letting it fall. “Drink, Roman.”

The emotions flattened into pure disgust as Roman drank the potion. He gasped and spluttered when he had finished and the compulsion released. “That’s! Vile! What the heck?! Ugh!!”

Virgil snorted. “It’s a healing potion, Princey. You can handle a bit of bitterness.”

Roman continued to loudly complain about the taste until Patton showed him how to get water from the rain barrel.

He had such vibrant emotions. Swirling around so swiftly, too. There was rather a bit of resentment at the moment, probably directed towards Virgil for forcing him to drink. Virgil didn’t particularly care about that one way or another at the moment. Though he did smile when surprise began coloring the emotions as the potion took effect.

Virgil noticed the newest delivery of pixie dust on his worktable. That must be why Patton had come around.

Thinking of the pixies’ tribute reminded Virgil that he was trying to think of something to give Roman to do. Preferably something useful. Perhaps he could send him on errands to collect some of the items Virgil was due?

“How’d you feel about a quest, Princey?”

Virgil nearly gasped at the sudden, powerfully sweet flavor. That sounded like a yes.

Mercy

Someone was in his circle. A human by the feel of it.

Virgil sighed. Humans were always pains to deal with. If it were a werewolf or something he could be certain it was an accident, and end up with a nice favor to cash in someday.

Virgil loved favors. They were so perfectly vague. Who knew what kind of trouble he’d be in someday? And favors could save his ass. Or even could brighten a sucky day, if he felt inclined to spend them on something so small.

He had 53 now. 53 favors from other fae or magical creatures, waiting in his back pocket for whenever he might need them.

But humans. Humans weren’t good at favors. There wasn’t all that much they could do, if they were a singular one, and even if they could’ve done more if given time and effort, a favor only went so far. And a group of humans? Virgil had never known something as awful as a group of humans could be.

Though sometimes, groups of fae could compete.

Most fae enjoyed humans more than Virgil did. There was a sort of… of power, to a fae, from taking in the wild emotions of a human. It was available in all creatures, even other fae, but it was so much more raw and intense from a human.

Other fae adored teasing and tricking humans, pulling from them the reactions and emotions that would fill that gaping need within. Groups of fae could be especially cruel, spinning glamours and casting spells over entire towns.

But it was for food, in a way. Not too different from the wolf eating the rabbit. Virgil could understand it, even when he himself disliked it.

When humans became cruel? There was no such need being filled. There was no necessity to it. It was pure evil pleasure.

Even when they stumbled into his circle, Virgil preferred to avoid humans. He didn’t want their cruelty to taint him. He already had impulses and desires, even needs that made him a natural enemy to many. If he took in the human’s cruelty, made it his own, he couldn’t live with himself.

His sense of his circle returned. Destruction. Something was ruining his circle.

Virgil growled, pulling the shadows of the forest around him as he walked towards the circle. Creatures fled from his anger as he walked, the animals and other people of the forest giving him a wide berth.

He didn’t own the forest, but he was certainly the strongest being within it. He had a few circles where he claimed ownership, just a few little patches of forest to be untouched, to be his. And this human ignored that. Or flaunted it.

Virgil didn’t hide his approach. Shadows roiled at his feet, pouring ahead of him like a wave. He made himself taller, more inhuman, more obviously fae.

He finally reached the circle. A human was crumpled on the ground on one side, gouges through the soil surrounding him, the mushrooms that marked the border of the circle torn to pieces. It was as if he’d kicked and dug at the ground, trying to break the circle enough to escape.

And judging by the fear rolling off of him in waves, that may well have been his motive. Not that Virgil cared. If the human didn’t want to be caught in a faerie circle, the simplest and most obvious answer was to not enter one.

Virgil was neither appeased nor tempted by the fear either, as many other fae might be. The flavor of it was bitter, sour running down his tongue and curdling in his stomach. He felt a hint of satisfaction, of vengeance, but no desire to prolong the human’s suffering. He’d dispose of him, and then repair his garden—

“W-wait!” The human shouted, pushing his boots into the ground again to propel himself backwards, away from Virgil’s approach. “Please! I want to make a deal!”

“And what do you think you have that I might be at all interested in?” Virgil growled.

The human blanched at the cold tone. “I— I’ll give you my name.”

Now that brought Virgil a moment of pause. A name. A name was a lifetime of favors. Granted, it was a human’s lifetime, much shorter than his own. But still. This was an offer that tempted him. Now to see what the human dared to ask for.

“I’m listening,” Virgil said. “What is it you hope for?”

The human straightened slightly, an intriguing mix of boldness and humility washing from him. “Mercy.”

Virgil cocked his head. “Mercy? The mercy of a fae will hardly seem a kindness to a human. Much less one bound by his name.”

The human gulped, but didn’t crumble. Virgil was becoming interested, despite himself. He looked over the human more closely, bothering to notice details. The human wore clothes that were brightly colored, reds and golds. They were torn, and stained dark with… well, from this distance it seemed like blood. His arms were bound behind his back. This was becoming stranger and more confusing every second.

Virgil was beginning to feel inclined to accept the deal, if only to get to the bottom of why the human was here.

“I must fall on your mercy anyway,” the human said. “Caught in your circle, I know I’ll be bound for a year and a day. I know what it’s like, to be in power. To have mercy asked of you.”

Virgil watched the human closely. He was trembling slightly, but rather than mere blinding fear, he was giving off a light taste of hope. His boldness and humility mingled with the flavor, creating something truly intriguing. Especially to Virgil, rather starved of emotion. He preferred living alone, but he couldn’t deny that it left him weaker than was smart.

And the human was smart too. Mercy was just as vague as a favor, could be flattering to the one asked, was difficult to twist into something negative to the human.

“Deal,” Virgil agreed, smirking. “Now give me your name.”

“My name is Prince Roman Antonio Marcus Ellory of Enteria.”

Virgil shivered as the rush of power flowed through him. A prince, hmm? Perhaps he’d made a more interesting catch after all.

“Roman,” Virgil said firmly. “Sleep.”

The human crumpled to the ground. Virgil scooped him up and carried the man home.

[nourelle-tracy]

This is for @gumnut-logic fab-five-feb. I decided to write a tiny fic to go with my drawing. I am not a good writer so excuse me. I haven't drawn digitally in a while *cough cough a year cough cough* so I am a bit rusty but I still am proud of it. Press on the picture for better quality.

Virgil woke up with a groan.

He was convinced that he was on fire, everything hurt.

He slowly opened his eyes, slightly squinting in the dim light. The familiar sterile smell hit him and had him fully awake in seconds. He was in the infirmary, the soft blue sheets on top of him. He tried to remember what happened, all he did remember was the excruciating headache he had in the morning before brushing it off after being called for a rescue.

"Rise and shine sleeping beauty"

The voice startled him, and he glanced to his side to see Gordon sitting next to his bed.

"Gordon? What happened?" He tried sitting up, but everything was spinning and he ended up slumping down again. Gordon, bless him, adjusted the bed so he was in a seated position.

"Well not much happened grumpy head, just the casual. You know collapsing after the rescue because you were running a high fever and was almost cooked alive, yeah not much."

Virgil groaned as he buried his head deeper into his pillow. Well that explains alot, and Scott was definitely going to chew his head off.

"Well, did you debrief yet?"

"Oh, it happened yesterday." Gordon casually stated.

"WHAT??" Virgil sat so fast that the room spun dangerously. He felt Gordon steady him, as he casually shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, you've been hibernating for a day"

The room fell silent, which wouldn't usually be such a deal if it wasn't Gordon sitting next to him. Gordon and silence didn't mix at all, ot was a fact, and that only rang alarm bells in his head.

"Gordon..?" He carefully tried to urge him to speak.

"Oh look what I got you" A teapot appeared in his hand, which he didn't notice until now. "Black tea, your favourite"

"You know that black coffee is my favourite, not tea"

"Yeah, yeah, but it's good for the cold"

"That's not-"

"Your hair is a mess"

"Well luckily for me, I'm not the hair freak, Scott is, and unluckily for you, changing the subject won't work."

Gordon sighed, it was then that he noticed the dark bags under the amber eyes, which lacked the mischievous glint they usually had.

"What's wrong" Virgil carefully prodded.

"Don't  you ever do that agian, Virg. Don't you collapse on me like that. I thought... I thought you died or something. I was worried and-"

"Hey, hey it's okay gordo, i'm okay now" He felt guilty for making him worry that much. He didn't want to imagine how he must've felt when his brother collapsed on him after the rescue, all the possibilities he thought of.

"Come here" he moved to the side, making room for Gordon to squeeze into his side. He wrapped his hand around the squid's arm, pulling him until he rested his chin on the blonde mop of hair.

"I'm sorry fish, I promise not to do that again. I'm okay now" And just like that, he held him tight and promised himself not to ever ignore a headache before a rescue, if only for the sake of his little brother.

(Feat. The mug which definitely was a gift from gordo)

Hope you like it, I'm a bit crusty but yeah I definitely enjoyed this alot!!

*hugs gumnut for this amazing event*

[anxiouslyfred]

Needle and Thread

for @dukexietyweek prompt Fashion

Summary: Remus thinks the most important thing for fashion is having a needle and thread and he looks to Virgil’s visibly repaired style for evidence. When he gets Virgil to help repairing the damages in his own wardrobe more might come from it.

Warnings: couple of sex mentions

/\/\

Needle and thread were vital objects for anyone interested in fashion if you asked Remus. It was the only way to get the appearance just right and greatest way to maintain and carry on wearing clothes when family was trying to throw it away.

Also needle and thread were very useful for giving customised gifts to his family with pre-made excuses should the pins he didn't care about removing stab anyone. 

There was a boy he knew that embodied this thought. Virgil's clothes weren't designer at all but Remus thought they were the most fashion ever.

While Remus never cared about immediately patching or fixing tears in his clothes and couldn't care less about stains, Virgil's were always repaired, visibly sewn together and patched in a way that screamed loved but also Virgil. Nobody else Remus knew had style quite like it and he adored it.

If Virgil fixed his clothes then of course the secret to fashion had to be needle and thread.

“Teach me how to make the holes look like that!” Remus blurted out. They'd been hanging out for the afternoon and when Virgil shifted into a crouch startled by something being dropped elsewhere in the house it had drawn Remus's attention to a tear over the knee, patched but still showing the frayed edges with extra threads criss-crossing over the patch.

“I've literally seen you make your own clothes. How do you not know how to patch and darn?” Virgil scoffed, pushing his back and folding to be sat down again.

“I do!” He agreed easily, “But they don't look like yours! All neat and scruffy; All professionally messed up. It looks even better than the shops that try for the distressed look because it's actually still well made and covering.”

Virgil looked him over for a moment, before shaking his head again, slightly hunching in. “Do you even have anything that needs repairing or are you intending to just deliberately damage something?”

“Plenty! Come over tomorrow and we can see just how much!” Remus cheerfully agreed. He honestly didn't know how many clothes he'd stopped wearing just in case the next tear or rip would destroy any chance of structural integrity the garment had but thought going through the pile of his clothes with Virgil would be fun.

There was a moment where he was scowled at, as if Virgil was waiting for him to laugh and reveal it all a joke before he sighed. “Fine, I'll bring my repairing kit and you can show me what damaged clothes need working on.” Virgil agreed.

It was only in the morning that Remus realised what he'd suggested. His crush, the most fashionable person he could think of was coming over and going to be spending time in his room, looking at all the disasters he called clothes. He didn't often feel any semblance of shame, but now couldn't bear the thought of Virgil knowing his wardrobe was more just for things to be shoved in the bottom of rather than shelves or hangers being actually used.

In the hours before Virge was meant to arriver, Remus had already gotten himself buried into the pile, folding things onto shelves and making some effort to separate out pieces he especially wanted to repair.

It wasn't enough.

All too soon Roman was calling through the house that Virgil was here and giving directions to Remus's room. It was easy to tell that he'd been rushing to try and make things look better and he knew it.

Virgil however just snorted after taking in the scene. “Dude, I knew you were a chaotic mess already. Why are you acting like I'm a grumpy aunt about to judge you for not folding clothes?”

“Cause you're hot and these are not. Actually they're mostly knot but I doubt their sexiness too.” Remus held up was had once been a mesh top but no longer had any way of telling where the sleeves or head hole were meant to be given how tangled it had become.

“You're trashing that then. Come on, let's see what I can teach you to save, what can be salvaged to use as patches for other things and if there's anything more like that waiting to be trashed.” Saying that he plonked onto the ground, throwing the mesh to the corner that looked likely to contain Remus's bin and pulling another piece up. “We're starting 3 piles for those things. This one is salvage to patch.”

Remus grinned, holding something else up. “Whatever you say, Spider Boss!”

The next few hours were a pattern of items being pulled out and Virgil condemning them to each pile, while Remus tried to plead the case for keeping some of the more torn up outfits as perfect for rough sex. It didn't seem to convince Virgil at all, but at least the trash pile wasn't actually in the corner for him to throw out any more.

“Are you sure you actually want to know how I fix my clothes still? You've practically got enough in the salvage for patches pile to straight up make a new outfit, shirt, trouser and still have enough to fix most of the holes in your clothes.” Virgil asked, looking over the piles they'd got.

“If you wanna make a bigger project I'll be your wriggly model. Stick all the pins you like to make my clothes into something new!” Remus already was pulling out his needles, thread and pins when a hand prevented him.

Virgil shook his head. “Not today. If you want me to design the outfit then we're repairing things first so I know what patches we have left to make something.”

“This first!” Remus immediately grabbed for a shirt that he'd kept for years. It was one of the first things Virgil had complimented him in and as much as he claimed to hate fashion if Roman raved about it, that compliment had been enough to ensure the top was never lost. Virgil had deemed it fashionable enough to comment on! That meant it could only get a million times better if repaired Virgil's way.

After a moment looking at it and taking the top to check the size of the tear in it, Virgil started digging through the pile of clothes to get patches from, holding a green shirt up a few moments later. “Can we use this for the patch?”

“Of course!” Remus nodded, once more going for his sewing kit and being allowed to this time.

Just because of how many clothes Remus still had to repair, the afternoon easily turned into weekly sessions of repairing clothes together when he convinced Virgil that just the one afternoon wasn't enough for him to learn all the things that made Virgil's fashion his own.

They finally reached the last few pairs of trousers that Virgil said were repairable, he looked back at the bag all the items to be used as patches again. “Were you serious about wanting me to design some clothes from these things?” he asked.

“Yup, and about you jabbing all the pins into me you like. I like the tingle I get from it.” Remus agreed, also looking through it, but actually trying to find the fabric he thought could be used to patch the trousers they had to work on.

“Don't need to get into your kinks, Remus. Why would you want something I designed? I'm like the least fashionable person ever. Hell, a person begging on the street has more sense of style than I do.” Virgil derided, gesturing to his outfit curiously.

Remus gaped, dragging his eyes over Virgil's body. “Looking and only seeing the most fashionable person I've ever known. If you can look in the wardrobe and not see the greatest style ever, then I think you need your eyes testing more than Patton needs glasses.”

“Yeah right.” He scoffed. “You have more fashion than I do. Sure it's grunge fashion, but it at least has a fashion people recognise as such. Mine is just ratty comfortable nonsense.”

“And hot as fuck. Seriously, do you think I'd have been asking for your help for this long if I just wanted to repair my clothes? I want to have a fashion like yours because I can't have you beyond friendship.” Remus protested.

Now it was Virgil's turn to gape. “Who the hell said you can't date me? I assume that's what you mean as beyond friendship, which dude? Dating is not beyond friendship. It's a different type of relationship.”

“You literally used excuses to escape anything that sounded like we might be on a date. Inviting others, which great, Looooooovvvvveeeeeeeee spending time with Ro-bro, and glasses gays, especially when I suggest something just for us 2, or already being busy with so many different things.” Remus listed, trying to remember other examples though none came to mind.

“Yeah, cause you made it sound like friend things, and have literally never mentioned dating or flirted with literally everyone else more than me.” Virgil snapped back, “Seriously when the flirtatious comments to annoy Roman out number the ones thrown at me, why would I think you were trying to suggest dates?”

That got Remus to freeze, blinking for a moment before grabbing his scissors still silent. “Hadn't noticed I did that. Was trying to only say comments or things I actually meant and follow your boundaries. You got all uncomfortable and looking like you wanted to run away with my normal comments so I tried to reduce directing them at you so much. Didn't realise that meant all the flirting stopped.” He rambled into the patched he'd started sewing, only hoping he'd cut it to the right size.

“Your method of genuine flirting is being respectful?” Virgil asked, now sounding confused.

“Well people don't normally like the flirting I usually do, so yeah.” He glanced over, before frowning at the patch. “I wanna add my skull beads around this. Can you get them from the box over there?”

Virgil huffed a little, twisting to get them. “I'd have told you to stop if that flirting made me uncomfortable. I was just trying to figure out if you meant it and then you stopped so I assumed you didn't and it was a hopeless cause for me to try flirting with you at all.”

“So now you know that's what I want to, can we do that?” Remus begged, hands holding the jeans he was sewing under his chin to make it look even more like begging.

“Sure, if you can bare to stay with me over whatever tragedy the outfit from these patches is going to look like, I guess we can date.” Virgil agreed, once more digging through the bag.

Remus just laughed. “It'll be the most fashionable thing ever! I'll have people begging to know my designer and get to taunt them that they're specially made by a private hobbyist.”

“Lies.” Virgil countered, but smirked.

[squidsinashirt]

You know that wasn’t aimed at you, Scott. Wasn’t actually aimed at anyone other than that one grumpy nurse in hospital, she deserved a bit of a parting shot…

I’m not sure my consultant would appreciate any undue stress on my mechaneck but I appreciate the sentiment.

But you (and I) know that I only managed to do all of that because I had you. You, and Virge and Johnny and Allie (and Grandma, hi Grandma).

For reminding me that I was worth more than what I couldn’t do, and for loving me through the bitterness and tears and tantrums. For kicking my ass occasionally and for all your terrible jokes through physio and surgery and being stuck in bed for weeks. For all the ‘sneaking to the roof and snacks kind of near the sea’ piggyback rides, and @starman-john-tracy’s late night pizza deliveries and book recommendations (which I did read, thank you very much).

For arguing with the doctor to bring me home sooner… I remember that argument Scott, I remember the authoritative commander Scott Tracy voice.

Would probably still be an angry little squid in a hospital bed if I wasn’t lucky enough to have a biggest brother who was already a shining example of tenacity and resilience in the face of… well. Everything changing.

And the best brothers around to remind why I actually needed to get better - and it wasn’t for gold medals.

do u think u would have won another medal at the next okympics if u hadn’t quit?

Woah, big question.

I mean, everyone wants to think they’d have qualified for the next national team and gone to the next games and absolutely smashed it out the park and come home with a medal or ten.

Truth is, nothing is guaranteed.

You don’t know who’s coming up behind you, faster and fitter, and ready to take your place. You need to prove yourself year after year to be selected, and you need to keep yourself at the very top of your game.

I guess if what you’re asking is if I would’ve wanted to have gone to the next games and competed - yeah, absolutely. I’d never planned to stop at just one go, I’d still have been swimming now. I was just a teen when I won, in theory most top flight swimmers don’t peak until mid-late twenties, so another couple of Games to have a go at, right? As well as all the other comps, of course, World Aquatics and stuff.

And if I’d have been in that pool, you can damned well bet I’d have been aiming for the gold again.

I went along for the day to see the guys at the last Games and it was amazing to be back in amongst it all…

But that’s not the way it works, right? We don’t get to choose. It’d have been nice for it to be a choice, to have got to step down when I was ready, but it wasn’t. It was gone in the split second I crashed a very expensive bit of government kit at a speed far greater than I’d advise trying.

So I didn’t quit.

I think I probably went through the five stages of grief weekly for the first three months in hospital at least. I thought I was getting good at the ‘grief’ thing too after, y’know, Mom and Dad and Grandpa and all, thought I knew how to handle it and what to say and the way to nod at the nice psych people but… turns out going from winning a gold medal and being active service to being told you aren’t gonna walk again does a number on ya’, who’d’ve thunk it. It wasn’t pretty. I mean, my entire life revolved around the pool and the ocean. Every nickname, every hobby, everything. You try getting called ‘Fish’ and ‘Squid’ in the same conversation a man in a white coat is telling you you’ve been out for two weeks and to say bon voyage to ever diving to see one in person again. Can’t swim if you can’t walk, eh?

And maybe because I’m not really a ‘it’s just not meant to be’ kinda guy, from a not very ‘that’s just the way it goes’ kind of family, but… it was rough. It’s not so much letting go of a dream and more having it ripped out your hands and torched in front of you. I was seething.

See, selfishly, it felt really unfair. After Dad, the pool was where I ran to. It was the one constant in my life that never changed at all, the one place I didn’t have to think about anything other than the stretch of water between two tiled walls and how fast I could go, and it was mine - until it wasn’t. Being shipped home still pretty broken, to a home that was pretty broken, was… every bit as bad as it sounds.

We blamed the head trauma from “the accident” a lot, but really, I think I was just bitter, and resentful. They still had the sky, the stars, the music, after all, and I had… well, nothing.

Teaches you a lot, about yourself. Not all of it good or easy to look at in the mirror but… lessons all the same. About patience, and impatience. Strength, weakness. Grief and anger and acceptance and courage…

Humility. Humbles you a bit. Spending hours a week in physio, in agony and pushing your body, just to make the smallest improvement and still be an entire ocean of disappointment away from where you want to be. Having to pretend it isn’t patronising to have someone congratulate you for managing to walk up a flight of stairs when eighteen months ago you were running drills at basic without breaking a sweat. Having everyone else running your life round about you, from what you eat to when you sleep, from the confines of a hospital bed, when really all you want is to be out in the middle of the waves on your board, on your own, doing the things you love. To be back on board a sub, in the pool, on a beach. To be Gordon, not ‘the patient’ or ‘Mr Tracy’ or ‘my brother’ or ‘my grandson’.

Never really spoken about all of that like this. Huh. Amazing how one topic diverges…

Anyway. I soon got sick of that. Got sick of people looking at me pitifully and being told to lower my expectations and decided that was absolutely not how I was spending my time left (what’s the point of being told you’re stubborn if you can’t be stubborn?). If I could win a gold medal, then I could ruin some doctor’s statistics. So I did.

One thing something like that does make you though - it makes you hungrier for the dreams you still do have in your sights. Makes you more focused on them, and I think it makes you a little more ruthless about going for them. Fuck it, you might die tomorrow so do the things that matter, say the things that need said, give it your all and grab opportunities. What’s the point in wasting time? Life’s for the living.

To circle back around to your question Anon, I think it would have been a very different Gordon Tracy that went on to compete for another gold medal, and sometimes I wonder who he would be. Not covered in scars and on three monthly follow ups with the hospital, for sure. Probably a bit more cocky but a lot less sure of himself.

… he wouldn’t have been Thunderbird Four, though, and that, I think, makes it all worth the while in a way. To now get to be the sort of guy that tells scared, injured, despondent people it’s going to be okay in their darkest hour and have them believe you, and to give people that miracle they’re hoping for… it’s magic kinda stuff.

Wouldn’t trade it for a whole swimming pool of gold medals 😏

[gumnut-logic]

Dear Mr Tracy (Part 4, Bit 2)

Sweetapple | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 - Bit 1, Bit 2

@flyboytracy​​​​, @amistrio​​​​ and @onereyofstarlight​​​​​  you asked for it, so you get to suffer more :D

Thank you so much to @gaviiadastra​ for the read through. And all the wonderful comments about Alex today. You are all so kind to me ::hugs the lot of you::

Only a short bit tonight. No Alex in this bit. I started writing his bit and promptly slammed into a wall - too tired to write more. So this is what I managed to write in the car today while waiting for kids outside the schools.

I hope you enjoy a little Gordon. Alex is currently a stunned mullet staring up at the sky. More to come tomorrow, I hope.

-o-o-o-

Scott glowered at Gordon for the next several hours.

Gordon ignored him and enjoyed the ruckus he had caused despite the Commander’s misgivings.

True to form, a small request accompanied by younger brother puppy dog eyes had Thunderbird Two launching with not only Virgil aboard, but Alan and Kayo as well.

John, the wuss, begged out claiming some major project. Gordon would get his ass down from orbit sooner or later, or move the family barbecue up beyond the troposphere and invade his Lord’s dominion. Eos would probably invade their washing machine in retaliation and fry all his underwear, but it would be worth it.

Grandma sent her apologies, as did Brains, both of which were a shame. Gordon was interested in what would happen if you put Alex and Brains together alone in a room together.

The nerdgasm might take out a small country.

Give or take Virgil in that equation and the resultant chemical reaction…

Gordon smirked as he backed Four into her module, freshly dropped in Māhia Bay.

He was probably in for it. Virgil had been grumpy for the last week. Gordon understood. Along with his brother’s obsession with Dad’s health, the engineer’s task list was capable of eating him alive on the average day. The strain was definitely beginning to show and Gordon was definitely worried about a last straw situation doing some serious damage.

And Gordon wasn’t alone in his opinion. It was likely an influence on why Dad jumped at the idea of a family dinner.

They were celebrating, yes, but the presence of outsiders at the party would keep things a little more on the straight and narrow.

Another smirk. If Gordon played his cards right, Virgil might not consider the word ‘straight’ as the right descriptor.

He ran through his submarine version of post-flight, and Four wobbled as Two’s grapples lifted the module off the ocean surface. By the time it clunked snug into its place in the body of the big ‘bird, Gordon was unfastening his restraints and clambering out of his submarine.

Virgil tended to hover until Gordon was secure in the cockpit beside him unless there was a dire reason to move.

Gordon appreciated it, having had the fun of Two manoeuvring while he wasn’t restrained. Not the greatest of experiences. Clambering up through the massive ‘bird, he prepared himself for the flak Virgil was likely to dish out for dragging him out here.

Alan grinned up at Gordon as he entered the cockpit. Kayo offered him an eyebrow. A suspicious one, but that wasn’t unusual.

The back of his big brother’s head beckoned.

“Hey, Virg. Thanks for the catch.”

You could really judge the mood by the span of time between that statement and Virgil’s acknowledgement.

Gordon bit his lip as he slid into his co-pilot seat beside his ominously quiet brother.

Surprisingly, Virgil didn’t look at him. He appeared lost in thought.

Hovering over the ocean in a huge rocket plane, and lost in thought.

“Virgil, are you okay?”

“Huh?” His brother actually startled before frowning at him.

Here it comes.

“Four secure?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” And there was no further comment.

Gordon blinked as Virgil switched from VTOL to forward flight, Two gliding smoothly at his touch and banking towards the airstrip on the Māhia Peninsula.

As the ground grew near, Gordon wasn’t sure what to think.

Virgil tended to be the predictable one. He was cool, calm and collected, reassuringly the rock of the family. He had a temper, yes, but it took a lot to set him off - and if you did, stand back, preferably miles back, another continent back.

But this mood? It wasn’t Virgil at all. The man was exhausted, obviously.

Scott agreed.

Agreed enough to take Dad on a tour of the Māhia facility today to get him out of the sight of Virgil. Enough to authorise Gordon taking out Four, and luring Virgil out of the hangars to pick him up.

The dinner was just a bonus.

Inspiration that had struck along the way.

But now, looking at his big brother, Gordon wondered if the man was even up to it.

Two touched down as gently as she always did. Virgil’s hands were as steady as they always were.

Standing off to starboard was a small group of family and friends.

“I will greet our guests.” Virgil backed out of his station and stood before Gordon could utter a word. “Gordon and Alan, please deploy the extra seating.”

“Aye, Captain.” He said it with intent, but it was soft and unsure.

It was enough to earn him a frown as Virgil strode to the forward hatch and triggered the elevator.

Arms folded, his big brother descended out of sight.

-o-o-o-

Next

[kiddiesides]

Virgil hates it when he gets the hiccups nd Remus thinks its funny cos Virge gets GRUMPY

[princeanxious]

i made a whole au in like 3 seconds after the snake!anxceit so have that

Theyre owned by Thomas that has way to many pets

Virgil being a mischief maker got out of his cage and into Janus' one night and Thomas found them snuggling in one of Janus' hides

Thomas could barely get Virgil to leave the cage so he just got a bigger one and put both of them in it

Thomas totally put a gay flag over the tank and totally constantly posts online about his gay snakes

Virgil constantly makes Janus holes in whatever is in the tank as a sign of affection cuz Janus likes curling up in them

while Janus is curled up in them Virgil will wrap around it to protect him

Janus is a snake with double tail ends

Thomas sewed Virgil a jacket that Virgil willingly goes into

if Thomas shows any of his friends Virgil or Janus and lets them hold them, Virgil will wrap gently around Janus while hissing to protect him

Virgil has bitten multiple people to "protect" Janus from them

Thomas hasnt seen them mate but is like 87% sure that they have

i got way too carried away with this im sorry- XD

Jfkdisjdhd im here for this whole au

Protective virgil is my favorite thing ever, tho I would adjust Virgil biting people to the full out feint-bite?? Like, I know snakes do bite even as pets, but I think if virge is being handled alot he wouldn't bite for real(as itd be unsafe and irresponsible to handle a snake that you know is going to bite regaurdless of the amount of handling and appropriate handling at that that it gets) but def has enough of a wary temper to snip at people who handle him and Janus wrong.

Janus is just here for the ride like 'yes this is my grumpy hissy husband I love him he's mine i'm his :)"

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

Virg you are grumpy this morning! Is that chip getting a bit heavy? 😁

I love these. They make me giggle. Especially the dad jokes! I'm so glad you do them.

After a long day of rescuing, Gordon’s squid sense led the boys to a supersized feast…

[selene-tempest]

Hello! For the Fandom ask game, can I have:

Who do you want to do more with?

How do you feel about injuries?

Thank you!

Who do I want to do more with?

Virgil! I never get to spend enough time with him. I hang out with Allie a lot as he's generally home more than anyone else.

And I spend a stupidly large amount of time with Scott, it's like... He follows me around like a puppy waiting for his owner to drop food so he can hoover it up but in Scott's case he's waiting for me to leave my plate unattended. But no, being serious I love hanging out with Scott, we have a great relationship, he's my best friend even if he is a doofus and we're really close, mostly because I put up with him.

Gordy I do spend quite a bit of time with, but not as much as I'd like because he's usually Virgil's wingman so they spend a lot of their time together on rescues.

But Virg, he's out on almost every rescue, he's pretty much always needed, which means he uses up a lot of his flight time every day and therefore needs a bit more rest than everyone else. He likes a solid seven hours if he can get it, and he's pretty set on it. He won't get grumpy if he's woken up or something but he does need his sleep to function properly. He also needs down time. He, much like John, craves quiet times to just ponder things and breathe. So he likes a wind down period before bed, he'll take himself off for an hour or so to his studio to work on whatever art piece he's doing or he'll read a book or watch a show (he's following 'Landscape artist of the year' right now, a British show I got him into by accident) then he'll shower and bed.

That, unfortunately, doesn't leave much time for me to steal him away like I do the others. On the rare times there's a quiet day I'll make a point of hanging with him, maybe listening to music or watching a movie. He's great, A+ good boy and needs the love.

Second question, how do I feel about injuries?

What kind of question is that? I hate them! No one likes to see the people they care about getting hurt.

Unfortunately, injuries are part of the job and can't really be avoided.

My boys are careful, they are professionals and with all the safety protocols and equipment they have, bad injuries are thankfully rare. They never get hurt as a result of being stupid, that's just not them, but stupid rescuees, that happens far too much.

The first time Virgil came home with a black eye I wanted to hunt down that rescuee who got themselves trapped and called for help then thought it was perfectly reasonable to panic while getting said help and punch the person trying to save their sorry ass.

That happens all the time. Flailing legs will land a kick on their shins, thighs, chests, biceps, side of the head, anything that they catch. They get punched and scratched sometimes too. They also get bruises from people holding on too tight. I understand it all they're scared and it's human nature to panic. But bloody hell do they have to aim it at Scott's nose?

Thanks for the asks x