#TAG Fic

[swashbucklery]

Kit + angry to discover that she actually likes textile work

A wee circus preview and some textile sweetness for you, friend.

+

Kit was never meant to learn to mend things. She was meant - at least in her grandmother’s eyes - to have staff who might mend things for her. Money enough (from her husband) to be able to buy a new dress if one tore.

Kit has been taught, in the most begrudging possible way, the needle arts of a lady. She has been instructed on embroidering fine feather-stitch ferns, decorating handkerchiefs that were always just shy of her grandmother’s standards until her fingertips were numb and her head ached with frustration. She has only the dimmest memories of her mother sitting at the kitchen table, darning socks with her glasses on, saving the mending for midday when the light was best.

You can learn when you’re older, her mother had said, when Kit paused to watch the nimble work of her sure hands. Leave me to get this done before the matinee.

They both thought they’d have so much more time.

Now Kit is sitting by her own table; outdoors in the space meant for eating, somewhere in the wilds of Indiana. She’s got needle and thread, and tights with a run in them, and she’s so frustrated at her own clumsy work that she wants to scream.

“Kitten,” a voice says over her shoulder. Elora always jingles as she approaches; Kit must have missed the sound of it in her frustration. “What are you doing to those poor tights.”

Kit groans. “Nothing useful, I can tell you that.”

Elora sits sideways on the bench beside her. Her hair is all done up for the matinee, piled into a layer cake of curls and jewel-ended pins that turn her head into a confection. For the show she’ll add feathers: ostrich dyed rich emerald, bright magenta, coal black. She’s still wearing her own clothes, though - a soft calico dress, faded from being worn a hundred times over, her wrists heavy with bracelets in a way that Kit’s grandmother would call vulgar. It’s a familiar sort of absurdity, now.

“Who taught you how to mend, the barn cat?” Elora says.

Somehow, the teasing makes a little of Kit’s frustration lift. Elora knows, of course, why Kit couldn’t mend her way out of a wet paper bag. But she often does this. Gives Kit the kindness of forgetting. “I don’t need new ones,” Kit sighs. “It’s just a run in the leg.”

Elora takes the garment from her, runs expert hands along the outside of the cloth, turns it this way and that to get a sense of the flaw. She frowns at the clumsy stitches Kit’s put in - too lumpy, somehow pulling things tight but extending threads loose over the gap in a way that turns awkward - and pulls them out with a few swift motions. “You don’t need new ones,” Elora says. “But you’re going at it sideways. You need these for this afternoon?”

Kit’s stomach is already tight with worry; she manages a nod. “Hoping so,” she says. “They’re my best ones.”

The tights are a perfect, lurid mauve, so bright that they’re difficult to look at under the stage lights. The rest of Kit’s costume is black and cream; the whole effect highlights her legs, brings out the slowly developing shapeliness of her calves. She even found thread to match them. If she could just get her hands to -

Elora takes the mending into her own lap, and Kit doesn’t know if she wants to cry with frustration or relief. “Well, there’s no sense teaching yourself on silk like this, no wonder you’re feeling clumsy.”

She plucks a few things out of Kit’s sewing kit - a spare thread and needle, a second thimble - and clicks her tongue. Then she slings one leg into Kit’s lap.

Kit giggles. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Elora draws her gaze down, points to a tiny, fraying worn spot - less than an inch - in the patterned river of her skirt. The print of the cloth is so complicated, with so many different places for the eye to rest, that Kit hadn’t noticed. “This needs fixing,” she says, no-nonsense. “And cotton is a lot kinder to beginners. You’re going to mend my dress, and I’m going to mend your tights.”

Coming from anyone else, the invitation would make Kit stubborn. She’s still breaking old habits; reflexes from a time when her world was stifling lace and lemonade socials and croquet. But Elora is not, she knows, offering a lesson so that she can speak ill of Kit to the next ten girls who come calling. Elora is not going to give Kit the cold shoulder at the next event of the season. Elora is warm and funny and unfailingly kind, her needle and thread already halfway up the run that’s been giving Kit trouble for over an hour.

Dutifully, Kit sets her unpracticed fingers to work threading her needle.

The thread Elora has given her is a perfect crimson; the colour of the contrast patterning that makes its way across the background cloth now faded to a pale brown the colour of prairie dust. Elora - always happiest in the glitter of a big city - likes to match herself to the dirt out here in the Midwest. Once a day, she giggles and ask Willow when he’s planning to add some trick ropers for a Wild West show. Kit sticks her hand under Elora’s skirt, gathering the cloth the way she’s been shown - by Elora, by Jade - and starts to mend.

It is easier on cotton.

The cloth doesn’t shift or slither out of Kit’s grasp the way that the silk was. Elora’s dress is never going to gleam the same way under the stage lights, but it behaves in Kit’s hands, as she draws her needle in and out. It’s easier on a frayed spot, too, instead of a place where the cloth has torn altogether. Frustration blooms at the back of Kit’s neck; the stirrings of one of those headaches she used to get over embroidery.

Elora pauses in her work, suddenly, and reaches out to grip the place on her skirt where Kit is trying her best. She brings it nearer to her eyes - exposing an amount of underskirt and lace bloomer that would have shocked Kit weeks ago - and smiles. “See, you know what you’re doing, Kitten,” she says. “Just gotta make it easier on yourself.”

She hands the section of skirt back to Kit. Kit stares down at her work. Elora doesn’t say a thing more. Not a lady’s needlework can never be too perfect, not a single note on the fact that Kit’s grid is running slightly off-center to the grain of the cloth. Kit’s repair - tidy, if not perfect - is good enough.

Kit doesn’t say anything in reply. She’s not sure how, yet, to reply. But she goes back to her work smiling.

[heathersgameoftag]

[cg29fics]

Gone

Having issues with my post’s again. So If you are reading along with this then you may need to check you’ve not missed previous chapters.

Tagging 🔖 Sorry if I’ve missed anyone: @janetm74 @drileyf @katblu42 @psychoseal @weirdburketeer @alexthefly @misstb2 @thundergeek59 @burningcowboyhoagietaco @dragonoffantasyandreality

Originally this was the final chapter. However, a year later I added the Epilogue - which some of you who originally read Gone may have missed. I’ve added the epilogue at the end of this chapter save waiting.

Thank you to everyone who’s read and commented on these posts. Hope you enjoy these final 2 chapters 🥰

Previous Chapter 53 - Home

Chapter 54. Soul

Everyone had continued to celebrate Virgil’s homecoming, with the party only being wound down when Virgil had begun to grow tired from the day’s activities and had experienced some pain. As he had not wanted to leave the gathering, Jeff and Scott had placed him comfortably on the sofa, while Brains gave him his medication. Shortly after, even though they had all been chatting quite loudly, Virgil had drifted off into a deep sleep.

As none of them had wanted to disturb him, they all made their way into different sections of the household. Not wanting to be far from Virgil’s side, all four boys and their father had gone outside and were now enjoying the evenings warmth from the side of the pool. Except, of course, for Gordon who had decided to take the opportunity, and enjoy an evening dip. Meanwhile, after completing the process of cleaning up, and packing away any leftovers, Ruth, Parker, Kyrano and Tin-Tin had decided to head to their rooms, while Brains had gone straight into his lab, so he could continue his work on some new experiment.

Penelope however, had made herself comfortable next to Virgil, wanting to be with him should he wake. She was glad she had remained when he began to stir from a nightmare. “Hey, it’s okay,”

“Pen?”

“Yes, it’s me,” she soothed, “no one’s going to hurt you!”

Virgil opened his eyes and smiled up at Penelope who was now holding him in her arms. “Hi.”

Penelope looked at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it was just a bad dream.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Virgil sighed. “It was just the usual.”

“Hood?” Penelope frowned.

“Yes,” Virgil nodded sadly.

“He’s never going to be able to hurt you or anyone else again, you do know that right?”

“Yes,” Virgil confirmed, “according to the doctors and John, the nightmares are my minds way of processing what’s happened.”

“That does sound like something John would say!” she stated, with an amused smile. “So, other than the bad dreams, how are you feeling?”

“I’m good,” Virgil answered honestly, “how could I not be when I’ve woken up next to you?”

“Charmer!” Penny smiled, kissing him tenderly.

Virgil returned the kiss and then looked around the room. “Where is everyone?”

Your father and brothers are outside,” Penny informed him, “Brains is in his laboratory, and your grandmother, Tin-Tin, Kyrano and Parker have retired for the evening.”

“And why aren’t you in bed?”

“I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

“Oh, you did?” Virgil grinned tickling her.

“Virg, stop!” Penny giggled. “Do you want me to get your dad, or one of your brothers?”

“No,” Virgil said, stopping and pulling her closer to him, “I’m very happy it’s just me and you!”

“Oh, you are?”

“Most definitely!” He replied, kissing her once more.

They both continued to hold each other until Virgil spoke once more. “So, how many of them were hassling you for details about what’s going on between us?”

“Just Tin-Tin, and what about you?”

“All of my brothers!” Virgil chuckled.

“And what did you tell them?” Penelope asked.

“Nothing, I guess I thought it was best to discuss the matter between us first.”

“I believe that would be a good idea!”

They looked at each other, both wanting to speak what was in their hearts, both slightly scared of the others reaction. Eventually, Virgil broke the silence. “I’ve always liked you, but I was always worried that if I did make a move, you wouldn’t feel the same way, and our friendship would be essentially ruined. Then there was Anderbad.”

“Mm… That was some night!” Penelope smirked.

“It certainly was!” Virgil grinned.

“And since then?”

“Well, I know we both agreed at the time that we would remain friends, but after what happened with the Hood, I realised that sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s nearly been ripped away from you… He nearly took everything, but thankfully he didn’t... And it made me reflect upon things… Life is too short to not speak out about your true feelings!”

“And what are your true feelings?” She questioned coyly.

“I want you to be more than just my friend with the occasional added benefit,” Virgil exhaled nervously, as he looked deeply into her eyes, “Penelope, I love you!”

“I love you too!”

“You do?”

Penny nodded. “Of course, I have for a long time… And I would love to be your ‘official’ girlfriend.”

“Good,” Virgil said, kissing her passionately.

They both remained wrapped in each other’s arms until Penny noticed Virgil was staring longingly at his piano. “Do you want to play?”

“I wish I could, but I can’t exactly use the pedals with two broken legs. Plus, I’ve only just started having light physio on my dislocated shoulder, so I’m not too sure how long I can use my right hand.”

“I can play with you.”

“You know how to play the piano?”

“Yes,” Penelope answered, “from ages 5 to 16, my father insisted! Although, I desperately wanted to learn to play the drums.”

“Drums?”

“Yes, what’s wrong with the drums?”

“Absolutely nothing!” Virgil answered. “Did you never get to learn?”

“No, my father said they were unladylike!”

“Unladylike?” Virgil exclaimed. “There’s been some awesome female drum players!”

“I know,” Penelope said, “that was my comeback… But father had spoken, so I made do with the piano. Secretly I loved it, but I pretended to detest every minute of course… So, do you want to play?”

Virgil nodded enthusiastically. “Where’s my wheelchair?”

“Just here,” she answered, pulling herself off the sofa and pushing the chair over which had been tucked away in a corner of the room. “Do you want me to fetch one of your brothers or your father, so they can help you into this?”

“That’s okay, if you inch it a little bit closer, then with your help I should be able to slide into it.”

“Are you sure?” Penny questioned. “I really wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her.

“Okay,” she said, a hint of concern still in her voice, “but if I see any indication that you’re in any pain, then I’ll be getting Jeff.”

Virgil nodded his confirmation while Penny edged the wheelchair a little bit closer. Then with her support he easily slipped into the chair on the first attempt. “Well, that was easier that I thought it would be,” Penny observed, “however, if I find out you attempt to do that without any help, then you will not hear the end of it! Understood?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Virgil smiled at her innocently.

“Mm… Well, make sure you don’t!” She warned, pushing him over to the piano. “So, what would you like to play?”

“I don’t mind,” Virgil replied, while she adjusted the piano chair so both herself and Virgil could reach the keys comfortably, “there’s some sheet music just over there.”

Penelope rifled through the variety of music books that were on the shelf that Virgil had pointed at, eventually she brought one over. “How about this to start with?”

“Ah, that’s perfectly easy,” he remarked, when she rested the page on Edward MacDowell’s, ‘To a Wild Rose,’

“Well, you may be a genius when it comes to playing the piano. However, it’s been a fair few years since I attempted to play, and this was one of the very first pieces I learned.”

“Then this is perfect,” Virgil commented, gazing fondly at her.

“Okay then, are you ready?” She asked.

Virgil kissed he once more. “I am now!”

Penelope relished his lips on hers and then smiled at him sweetly, as they both began to press the keys, allowing the melody to sing out. “Virgil Tracy, you are far too good to be playing with me,” Penelope observed, as she faltered a few times, while Virgil’s fingers glided effortlessly across the keys.

“Nonsense,” Virgil remarked, “you are doing wonderfully!” As the tune built to a crescendo, a cough interrupted them. “Oh, hi guys.” Virgil said, glancing up at the five faces standing in the doorway.

Jeff gazed at him sternly. “I would normally reprimand you for getting into your chair without any help.”

“But?” Virgil grinned.

“But,” Jeff added, moving over with his four sons to stand by the piano, “it’s too good hearing you play!”

“it feels great to be playing!” Virgil stated.

“How did you get in your chair?” Scott asked.

“Penelope helped me.”

“Penny, you managed to lift him?” Gordon giggled.

“Hey,” Virgil interrupted, “I’m not that heavy!”

“After all that cake and apple pie you shovelled down earlier,” John chuckled, “I’m not too sure!”

“Hey!” Virgil protested, “Why am I suddenly getting picked on?”

“Because, you are home,” Gordon informed him, “there’s no more special treatment for you now!”

Virgil pouted for a few seconds and then grinned. “Good, I wouldn’t want it any other way!”

“Great, because the jokes will be ‘wheeled’ out!”

Virgil shook his head at Gordon’s bad pun, and then looked at Alan, who was uncharacteristically quiet. “Everything alright little bro?”

Alan nodded. “Just wondering if you could play something?”

“Yes, of course. Anything in particular? Virgil enquired.

“Can you please play…” Alan hesitated.

Virgil smiled at him knowingly. “Do you want me to play moms song?”

“Yes please,” Alan answered enthusiastically, “if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course,” Virgil replied.

“Where’s the sheet music?” Penny asked.

“There isn’t any. Mom was always going to write it down but unfortunately, she never did. Thankfully, she taught it to me and now it’s all up here,” he informed her, pointing to his head, “I really should write it down though.”

“So, do you need any help?” She questioned.

“I should be alright using my right hand for this piece, I’ll use it to count towards my physio time,” he laughed.

“And what about the pedals?” She enquired.

“Yes please,” Virgil confirmed, “they won’t be needed to much, so I’ll let you know when,”

“Okay,” Penny smiled getting herself comfortable.

Virgil prepared himself, then paused as he looked at his family. “Are the rest of you okay if I play this?”

“Yes,” Scott, Gordon and John replied.”

“Dad?” Virgil enquired.

“I would love to hear it son!”

Virgil nodded, closed his eyes, and began to play.

They all exhaled slowly, as they watched Virgil’s fingers slowly caress the keys. Each one of them becoming transfixed by the melodious tune as they all thought back to just a few weeks prior when they had sat and wept together, each believing they would never hear this captivating, incandescent sound again. Now though as the notes continued to radiate from him, each one of them was brought back into the present. Here was Virgil, he wasn’t gone, he was here with them, and his musical soul was once more filling their home.

** **

Chapter 55. Return - An Epilogue.

It had been 1 year and 3 weeks since he’d sat here, a lot longer than he’d anticipated. Yes, the doctors had told him it would take a while to get back to full physical fitness, and he had achieved that, way before they had expected him to. However, it was the unseen injuries that had held him back, the ones the doctors hadn’t picked up on, but his family had spotted straight away.

The nightmares… Ones where he was still being held by the Hood, still chained, the camera set up in front recording everything as the whip was brought down onto his bare skin again and again. These, of course, had woken him with silent screams, occasionally vocalised, but a family members presence, and the realisation that it was just a dream quickly settled him, then sleep came once more. However, there was, of course, the flipped around nightmares, the ones where he’d be the one staring at a screen, watching a brother being tortured, and he’d be screaming out in pain, but every time there had been nothing he could do to save them. Gut-wrenching cries would fill their island home, awakening all the inhabitants, and would see him physically shaking for several hours in someone’s arms… Thankfully, agreeing to talk had helped and the dreams had eventually dissipated, however, an unexpected flashback when Gordon playfully dunked him in the pool (To when the Hood’s men had submerged his head and held him repeatedly under the water) had set off an anxiety attack, which had reawakened the nightmares, and he was once again back at square one… A vicious circle that happened on more than one occasion.

Eventually, with time, and many one-on-one sessions with various members of his family the mental healing eventually caught up with the physical, and that had in turn led to this point, him sitting here… 1 year and 3 weeks later, which was 386 days, an exact total of 9,264 hours… Not that he’d been counting…

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts, “are you okay?”

A short breath out, he glanced back at Gordon, who was now buckling himself into the co-pilots seat. “Yes… Yes, I am!” Turning back to the control panel… His left hand, which now had a treasured silver wedding band on, reached forwards, he didn’t need to even think about what he was doing, even after all this time, he knew his girl like the back of his hand. She moved forwards, trees parting for her, allowing the sunlight to light her beautiful green paint… God, it really had been too long…

“So, are you going to do the honours?” his brother asked.

“You bet I am!”

Gordon settled back as the green machine raised herself, ready and waiting. “Then she’s just waiting for your final command.”

Pressing the final button, then holding the controls in his hands, Thunderbird 2 shot into the air…

Virgil felt the smile light up his face… “Thunderbirds Are Go!”

[mycroftrh]

Far worse, in my opinion, than the famous “he wouldn’t fucking say that” is “he WOULD fucking say that, as part of his facade, but you seem to think he would mean it genuinely”

[purlturtle]

I did put it on AO3:

Thank you @hgwellsmykabering and @lonely-night for inspiring and enabling me!

On your quest for revenge, people often said to you, “Killing him wouldn’t bring her back.” The thing is, you found a way to resurrect her perfectly. You just need a soul to sacrifice, so might as well get the one who killed your loved one.

[frankierotwinkdeath]

Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[emberfaye]

You know what?

I love you, fics that take months to update. I click on the newest chapter and have no memory of this place and get to go back some chapters and rediscover how much i love everything about this story.

I love you, fics that take years to update. I think of you fondly, and know your names, go search for you and see an update from this year and scream, diving in uncaring of any missed details (i will finish the update and read you in reverse because this is a treat you have bestowed)

I love you, fics that probably will never update again. Thank you for being a roman empire for my mind, thank you for teaching me about the ephemeral fandom experience, for inspiring a thousand million what if-s, for being a comfort read and a nostalgia read and a reread.

I love you fic writers, who jump into projects and stories with enthusiasm. I love you when you succeed in pumping out those chapters and that love doesn't go away when you stop.

I love you fic writers who post and then get in your own head and never feel confident enough to update, whether it's at all or whether it's just that one story.

I love you fic writers, who have a fandom or media hurt you to the point of abandoning or having a hard time with their WIPs.

I love you fic writers, who lose interest or have life changes or illness or bad memory. Thank you for being part of the fandom, a core part of the fandom. Thank you for the time spent in the fandom.

I love you, fic writers who try out something new and then stop. You're so valid.

I love you, WIP fics that may or may not ever get finished. Thank you for brightening my day in the way only you could have.

[moldycigarette]

this x simon “ghost” riley

cw!: praise, size kink, creampie, breeding kink, bulge, simon’s a nasty dog (and i tried to warn ya)

—————

simon never fails to remind you how much bigger he is than you.

you’re short? no problem, all those missing inches go to simon. oh wait you’re tall? whatever, he still towers over you.

are you chubby by society’s standards? just means there’s more for him to love. skinny? that’s okay too, he’s always down to eat whatever you can’t finish.

no matter what size or shape you are, it’s a guarantee that simon is still bigger than you. and he always manages to remind you of that in the bedroom.

his large hands around your waist, pounding into you with his thick cock. he obsesses over the bulge in your cute tummy from his size, practically drooling over the fact that he can’t even fit inside you’re pretty pussy all the way.

whether he’s fucking you doggy style or in a mating press, he will always tower over you. he makes sure you’re cum is on his fingers and his tongue alone before he shoves his meaty dick inside you; this man has the libido and stamina of a god.

“g’nna fuck this p’ssy so good, love. fill ya’ up to the brim,” he moans, his thrusts growing more erratic as he feels that familiar heat in his stomach.

you’re coming right along with him, seeing stars while he peppers kisses in your neck. “such a good girl f’r me, g’nna make the best mama.”

—————

um sorry didn’t mean to let out my inner whore

[finleycannotdraw]

we need all types of art in fandoms

[heathersgameoftag]

[cg29fics]

Gone

Issues with previous updates, so if you’re reading along you may want to check out the links for previous chapters. The complete fic is also available via FF.Net & A03 - CreativeGirl29

Tagging 🔖 Sorry if I’ve missed anyone - If you would like to be tagged in these updates then please let me know and I’ll add you to the list: @janetm74 @drileyf @katblu42 @psychoseal @weirdburketeer @alexthefly @misstb2 @thundergeek59 @burningcowboyhoagietaco @dragonoffantasyandreality

Previous. Chapter 44. Accused.

Chapter 45. Tracked.

Shortly after Penelope had planted the tracking device on Emily Sanderson she contacted Scott and informed him of the evidence that had been found, her suspicion that it was faked, and the action she had taken. Agreeing with her assumptions, Scott relayed what had happened, and asked her to return to the hospital. It was now 3pm, and as none of them had wanted Virgil to be on his own they had decided to all gather in his ward room. Thankfully though, just half an hour previously Virgil had fallen into a deep sleep. Due to a combination of the side-effects finally beginning to pass and the pure exhaustion he had been suffering from because of lack of sleep. Examining the ‘photographic evidence’ that the police had discovered on the Hood’s computer systems, John confirmed that it was indeed faked. However, even with John’s substantial educational knowledge coming into play, the police had dismissed their concerns about Sanderson being the real culprit, and had insisted they now had the correct woman in custody.

“I can’t believe that woman thinks she’s gotten away with this!” Scott growled, pacing back and forth. “And setting up Maria, I really don’t want her to go down for this… And then there’s her brothers, what’s going to happen to them?”

“The boys will be okay, I did some digging earlier, and they are currently being looked after by a neighbour,” John informed him, “and as for Maria, when Virgil remembers what’s happened they will let her go, and then arrest Sanderson.”

“What does he remember?” Penny inquired, gently stroking her hand over Virgil’s hair as he slept soundly.

“Not much,” Jeff responded, “he asked what had happened when he woke up. I initially told him he had a bad reaction to some drugs, and I said I would explain more later. He’s not asked since, he’s been too sick.”

“And what are the chances that he will remember?” Parker questioned.

“The nurse said he should, but to wait until the Rynax is out of his system before asking again,” Jeff replied.

“And what if Virgil doesn’t remember?” Gordon worriedly enquired.

Jeff sighed. “Then we will deal with that situation when it arises.”

“We can’t wait until then,” Scott cautioned, “she will try and do something, especially if she knows that Virg may remember it was her… She is a threat and will try and find some way to get to him without our knowledge.”

“But Scott, we will know if she tries to get close,” Alan stated, “thanks to Penny we are tracking her movements.”

“Sanderson is resourceful and clever! She won’t attack him directly, and will try and find some other way to hurt him, without getting close, so as not to seem like a suspect.” Scott paused, pondered what he was about to suggest, and then continued. “I really think that the only way we will stop her hurting Virgil again is to lure her in and catch her red-handed.”

Jeff shook his head. “There is no way that woman is coming anywhere near him!”

Scott sighed. “Dad, you know I would normally be the last person to suggest anything like this… But as I’ve said, that woman is clever, and she will try to kill Virg. We need to make her believe it’s safe for her to personally strike, and I really believe catching her in the act is the only way we can make the police believe us.”

“Do you all agree with this?” Jeff exhaled when everyone reluctantly nodded. “Mother?”

“Unfortunately, I do believe Scott’s right,” Ruth answered, “there’s no other way son!”

Jeff held his hands up in defeat. “Fine, but whatever the plan is, we need to make sure it’s full proof!”

… …

A few hours later:

Emily Sanderson walked into the hospital canteen. She hadn’t planned or wanted to come into the hospital so soon after being released, but she had been given no choice after Doctor Sylvia had called her into a quick meeting with himself and the board. In the end, she was glad that she had been granted some excuse for being there. Her father’s associate who had wiped the computers, and planted the evidence which had seen her released, had graciously hacked the hospital’s medical records for her. Upon reading Virgil’s files, she knew that although he hadn’t remembered what had happened, the chances that he would do so were highly likely, and because of that she would have to act quickly to make sure that he was disposed of.

Grabbing a coffee from the machine, Emily sat herself down in a nearby chair and contemplated the situation. Her preferred option had always been to make a personal strike against the victim. She knew she could knock out the security cameras, thanks to the technological help she had, and get herself the drugs needed to kill Virgil quickly, silently and without any trace ever being found in his system. However, she also knew that the Tracy family would be with him constantly and would probably not leave his side. So, another plan would have to be formed, one where she could make sure he died without going anywhere near him. As she continued to muse over her thoughts her attention was caught by Scott Tracy entering the canteen. ‘Perfect timing,’ she smiled, standing up and sauntering over to him.

Scott clasped his hands behind his back, and breathed out slowly, as he watched her confidently strolling towards him. Her being there had not been a surprise. It had in fact been fully intentional. Gerry Sylvia, had been happy to help, believing their assumptions that Sanderson was indeed the guilty party, and had begun the process of luring her into the trap they had eventually decided on, by inviting her to the hospital. Now she had arrived it was up to himself too set the second part of their plan in motion, and he knew it would take all his willpower to do so.

“Hello Scott,” Emily beamed at him.

Scott returned her smile. “Hi Emily, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you for asking,” she responded, “especially now I’ve been released without any charges… I told you that I would prove my innocence!”

Scott dug his nails into the palm of his hands, desperately wanting to scream in her face at the blatant cockiness that was oozing from her. “Yes. Yes, you did,” he finally replied with a big smile.

“So, how’s your brother?” She questioned. “Last I heard he wasn’t doing too well.”

“He wasn’t, but thankfully his breathing’s improved and he’s back on the ward now,” Scott explained. “Although, the Rynax is still in his system and that’s given him some pretty nasty side-effects.”

“Oh, that’s such a shame!” She replied.

“Yes, it is,” Scott stated, biting his lip. “Although, it looks like the effects are starting to disperse, and he’s actually managed to go into a deep sleep. The doctors reckon that he will probably start remembering what happened once he wakes… Which will be great, because then the police can confirm that it was Andrews, we will know then that she will not be released, and will not find a way to hurt him again.”

“I bet that will be a relief,” Emily remarked, “you can all get some rest then.”

Scott nodded. “Thankfully, that will be happening tonight.”

“Tonight?” She queried.

“Yes,” Scott confirmed, “she’s definitely locked up tonight. Virg is sleeping, so we can’t really do much here, so for the first time in ages we will all be heading back to the hotel for some proper rest.”

“Oh, that is good news for you all,” Emily commented, before looking at her watch, “sorry to cut this short but I’ve got a meeting to get to. I’ll see you around soon.”

Scott breathed out, releasing the tension that had built up inside of him, as he watched her scurry out of the canteen. When she had finally gone, he made his way into a corner of the room, so no one could hear him, and lifted his watch to his mouth. “The trap is set, and Emily Sanderson as taken the bait.”

… …

Later that evening:

Everything was set. As Emily did not know about Penelope and Parker’s links to the Tracy Family or International Rescue, and she had only met them once outside the station, they had both planted themselves at two different exits, making sure they remained out of sight. So as not to arouse suspicion the others had all decided to leave the ward room at separate intervals. Upon leaving, they would make it look like they were heading out of the hospital, but would instead head to a nearby room that Gerry had provided for them. There they would play her at her own game, and would view her every movement through a live video feed from a hidden camera they had planted in the room.

“She’s nearby,” John finally informed them all, watching her trackers location on his tablet.

“Good,” Scott responded, “is everyone ready?” Gordon, Alan and John nodded. “Dad, are you ready?

“Yes, I suppose so,” Jeff frowned, “I’m just glad Virgil’s still asleep so he won’t ever know what’s happening here.”

“Grandma, what about you?” Scott questioned. “You don’t have to stay, and you can still head back to the hotel if you want to?”

Ruth shook her head. “No Scott, I’m staying put!”

Scott grinned at her and then focussed on them all. “Right then, time to get this plan into motion… John, Grandma, Alan… You three go now. Myself and Gordon will follow in five minutes, then dad you follow ten minutes later.”

… …

Emily Sanderson hid carefully, so as not to be seen, watching as the family made their way out of the ward. She couldn’t believe her luck when Scott had said that they would all be going back to the hotel that evening. Thankful, that she could put her ‘Plan A’ into motion. As expected her contact had been able to knock the hospitals security cameras out, plus she had also managed to get hold of some drugs which she knew would kill Virgil instantly. The Hood may have wanted him to suffer first, she however just wanted him to die as quickly as possible!

… …

The family all sat in the office room gazing at the live feed from the camera they had setup in Virgil’s room, while John focussed on his tablet which still displayed her trackers location.

Finally, half hour after Jeff had joined them, John broke the silence that had naturally engulfed them all. “She’s heading to the room now.”

They all breathed out as they watched the TV screen, each of them preparing to spring into action when the moment came.

… …

Emily Sanderson pushed the door open and quietly stepped inside. Observing Virgil, she took a step towards the bed, and paused as he quietly slept. Smiling to herself she made her way around the other side of the bed and placed the small bag that she was carrying down. Turning away from him, she began to open the bag, stopping when she heard a stir from behind her. Rotating back to face him, she smirked as he began to open his eyes.

… …

Watching the screen intently, Scott jumped out of his seat when he saw Virgil open his eyes. “Damn… He’s waking up. Get ready to go guys!”

… …

“Hello Virgil,” she smirked, “It’s been a while!”

Virgil’s eyes widened, causing Emily to release an ominous laugh. “Well it looks like you’re finally remembering what happened.” Virgil tried to grab at her injured hand, but she held his hand down and then shoved a gag from her bag in his mouth. “You’re not going to bite me again,” she sneered, pulling the drugs from her bag, “and no one’s coming for you, not this time… It’s just me and you!”

At that moment, the doors swung open. “Get away from him!” Scott ordered as he sped into the room.

Shocked by the unexpected interruption, Emily dropped the drugs, and fled, easily pushing past Scott who was too busy concentrating on his brother. John and Gordon who were close behind Scott watched as she bolted down the corridor in the opposite direction. Glancing quickly at his tablet, John confirmed to Gordon which way she was heading, so he could give chase, before calling through to the others. “She’s heading down the south wing.”

“FAB.” Several voices responded back.

… …

Scott flew to his brother’s aid and quickly removed the gag from his mouth. “It was her,” Virgil stuttered, shaking from the unexpected shock, “it was her… She was here… Before, with the Hood… She got away!”

Scott held Virgil’s hands in his. “Virg, it’s okay. We’ll get her, she’s not going anywhere. Virgil nodded, his whole body shaking. Scott pulled Virgil into his arms and held him securely. “It’s okay. No one will hurt you again!”

Continuing to shake, Virgil glanced up into his big brother’s eyes. “Scared!” He finally admitted, gripping tighter onto Scott.

“I know,” Scott soothed, as Virgil broke down and openly wept in his arms.

Jeff raced past John with his mother and turned into the ward room. Seeing the state of his middle son, Jeff tried to step towards him. “It’s okay son,” Ruth said, holding Jeff back, “he’ll be alright. Scott’s got him.”

… …

Gordon who was now joined by Alan, continued to pursue Emily as she raced down the south wing corridors. Turning onto another corridor both brothers stopped when they couldn’t see where she had gone.

“Which way did she go?” Alan asked John through his watch.

John let out a slight laugh. “Do you both see the stairwell up ahead?”

“Yes,” They both responded.

“She’s gone done the stairs, heading to exit 6.” John replied.

Gordon grinned. “FAB! We’ll head there now and help pick up the pieces.”

… …

Emily had been getting more and more aggravated when Gordon and Alan had kept managing to find her. Finally spotting the stairway which she knew would lead to the exit, she sped through it, pleased to see that she had lost her two pursuers. Continuing at a fast pace, and continually looking behind her, Emily did not spot the person standing in front of the door, and ran right into them falling to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, before looking the person who she had raced into in the eyes. “Wait, I know you?”

“Yes, you do. We met earlier today.” Penny smiled, helping Emily to her feet, before gripping tightly on her injured hand. “You see, I knocked into you outside the police station, and I managed to plant a tracking device on you.”

“Ouch, you’re hurting me!” Emily cried out when Penny squeezed tighter on her injured hand.

“Oh, I’m hurting you?” Penny mocked. “Well, as you’ve hurt a very dear friend of mine, I felt it was the only right of me to hurt you back… To be honest though, I’m not getting any enjoyment from this.” Penelope released her hand. “But this, this I will enjoy.” She smirked, throwing a punch which knocked Emily Sanderson out cold.

Next: c46.

[ao3-anonymous]

What in the fanfic hell is this?? 😂😂

[everwalldigan]

I love the idea of all the robins kinda being clones of each other with just a few differences and a concussed Bruce not being able to tell who he’s squinting at so he just says generic statements and avoids saying any names

Bruce (sitting at the breakfast table): so… how’s the weather… dick?

Jason (grinning): you do know I’m gonna hold this against you for like, the next 2 months right

Bruce: (groans into his hands)

Bruce (walking into the living room): hey have you read through the files I gave you yesterday?

Dick: (confused cause he took a day off to surprise Bruce) ?

Bruce: so?

Dick: er… no?

Bruce: Dick?? What are you doing here?

Bruce (walks into the kitchen with a fresh concussion): Jason? I thought you were on a mission with the outlaws?

Tim: (frozen through mid fridge raid, having assumed they were past Bruce calling him Jason since yk. He’s a shit brickhouse now and Tim is, well, obviously not): uh?

Bruce: *turns around and leaves*

Bruce: Oh hey Cass, when did you arrive from Babs’?

Damian: (slowly turns around in the black hoodie he’s wearing) we’re not even the same gender

Bruce: (under his breath) yeah but the same height

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...