#i honestly still have never reached ginger island or anything in any of my saves

[specialbluehens]

Rose! Hi! Question! What's your headcanons for Mr Qi

oh uh!! tbh i don't have any that i like, originally came up with!! he's cool & all but i haven't given much thought abt him! he doesn't scratch my Brain Itch, u know?

i like a lot of ppl's hcs abt him def having smth to do with grandpa (cough lovers cough) & also he's just??? he knows it's a game & is intertwined with sdv lore i love it. some kind of diety watching u play the game... esp bc he likes it when u do things the "correct" way (aka the intended way). like ok blue man we get it u want us to be honorable go cry 2 grandpa

like, basically my hc is he basically was a previous farmer that also worked with grandpa & basically became an immortal being by reaching true Perfection & watches over ppl who could potentially try to achieve it in the game akdnskjds

[starman-john-tracy]

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Seven

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.  

Chapters: [One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Eight]

Star’s not entirely sure how she makes it through her shower without passing out entirely, but the black dots in the edges of her vision are doing their very best to swallow her whole. There are clothes of hers on Tracy island, but Star emerges with her limp hair in a wet plait down her back, in one of John’s sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants that just about fit around the waist, but have to be rolled up half a dozen times to free her feet.

Honestly, Star almost throws up within her first step into the medical room. But Virgil’s hulking figure is beside her, and he looks like he’s feeling much the same way. Star’s not sure what he has or hasn’t told his other brothers to get them to leave her alone, but she’s not yet seen hide nor hair of any of them... until now, that is.

Because Scott Tracy is sitting backwards on a chair at his brother’s bedside. His legs either side of the backrest and his arms folded heavily over it. His mouth is pressed into a tight white line and, as he drags his eyes up to them from where they were fixed on John’s still shape, he looks less than pleased to see the pair of them. Maybe it’s just the tension. Maybe it's something more. Virgil, as if sensing Star might bolt, takes her wrist and guides her into the room, clearly hoping that she’ll be too preoccupied with John to worry overly about his oldest sibling’s presence.

“My shift.” Virgil shoos the older man from the chair, “Do us all a favour and go get a shower Scooter.” Evidently this is part of their taking turns. Scott shakes his head low and weary, but he makes his way toward the door with little other protest.

“Thanks Virg, see you in twenty, yeah?”

“Sure thing.” Virgil guides her into Scott’s vacated chair by John’s hospital bed, safe to be so close now that she’s been scrubbed raw of outside germs, watching him sleep. Sleep… isn’t the right word. He’s not peaceful enough, minute tremors and twitching muscles plaguing his form, as if his subconscious wants to writhe in discomfort. His arms are more black and blue than pale, his heart monitor is beeping an uneven tempo, the oxygen mask looks sore against his irritated skin.

“You alright?” Virgil checks, from where he’s leaned on the back of the chair behind her. He doesn’t think he’s alright, after all. A warm chin comes to rest on the top of her head. He sighs heavily, watching the silent shape of his brother just breathe. John looks thin and fragile under the white sheet, with the oppressive quantity of bleeping machinery clustered around him and all the tubes and wires and the bulky shape of the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, dwarf the lithe young man almost entirely. Virgil’s just glad he didn’t have to intubate him. His arm raises, almost brushing against Star’s cheek, as he pinches the bridge of his nose hard, trying to stave off the edges of a tension headache.

“Geez…”

After several moments of restless watching, Star shifting anxiously in her seat, she tilts her head towards Virgil, like she wants to look at him but can’t drag her eyes up to his face. “You’re going to want to ask the GDF to send someone up there to pick up the uranium,” she murmurs sullenly, “John was concerned about the leaking canisters in the vault, and then there’s a second lot in an officers lounge. I think I hid them well enough.”

“I’ll get Scott on it.” Virgil sets himself a reminder on his fancy, high-tech wristwatch, ready to prompt him when his elder brother returns from his shower. “Do you think The Hood is likely to come back for them?”

It’s at that moment that John makes a low sound in the back of his throat. Star’s hand twitches towards him, reaching for the bony wrist that’s the closest limb to her, wanting to do anything to make home feel better, even if it’s just a comforting hand, but she freezes.

“I’m not… am I going to hurt him?” She asks Virgil softly, blinking back those stupid tears she hasn’t been able to keep under wraps all day. “Can I even be in here? It’s not going to make him sick?”

“You’re alright.” Virgil pats her shoulder reassuringly, then moves away to go fiddle with some settings on a screen, topping up his brother’s painkillers, “You’re freshly showered and there’s little chance of you transmitting any germs to him, even with his wrecked immune system, but I’m glad you’re being careful. Alan wanted to jump right on him soon as we let him back in.” He laughs, but the warm sound trails back off into silence again shortly after.

Quiet, Virgil watches the fresh 20ccs of tramadol run down the new line he’d replaced the cannula at his wrist with, mixing with the supplementary immunotherapy drugs and blood regulators that are already feeding into his brother’s veins. The replacement peripherally inserted central catheter, or PICC, is a thinly-tubed line that runs from the entrance point at the crook of the John’s elbow, and finishes snugly near the heart muscle, designed to deliver the medications much more quickly and effectively. Virgil hopes that John won’t be able to feel the microscopic, wire-stiffened tube threaded through the peripheral veins in his right arm when he wakes.

John’s nose wrinkles in his sleep, eyebrows crinkling like something is disturbing him.

“Does it hurt?” Virgil whispers, more to himself than his unconscious brother, “Shhh Johnno, the meds will kick in soon.” He smooths a big, warm hand across his siblings shoulder. “We’re gonna take good care of you, ok?” 

Star almost tips herself out of the chair leaning forwards, gripping Johns free-er arm at the elbow, so their forearms are lying flush on the bed. She lets her fingers trail along the soft, bruised skin there, and instinctively forces a watery smile to her face that he’s never going to see.

“Hey Johnny,” she murmurs, tracing the delicate patterns over and over again. “You’re safe now. Got to Thunderbird Five, just like you said to. And you’ve got your brothers. Nobody’s going to hurt you here.”

She still can’t quite bring herself to say the words you’re okay, but she keeps talking, just in case he can hear her. She just keeps telling him about this and that and everything in between in a low, wavering tone that seems to almost just fall out of her. It’s not until the drugs must kick in that she stops, keeping a hold of his arm. It’s like drowning, watching John’s lax face through a haze of angry gravity.

“You know what, Virgil?” Star tells him, not moving an inch from her position up against the bed. “I really fucking hate space.”

There’s a soft, suspiciously wet sounding laugh from Virgil over her shoulder. 

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” He says, scrubbing a hand hard over his eyes, “He’d be so upset.” 

Star snorts. “Oh, he knows, don’t you worry. I tell him every time something goes wrong. Like one time, we ran out of coffee? I almost staged a mutiny.”

Virgil laughs again, louder this time: more genuine and less startled.

The pained scrunch of John’s brows has yet to smooth out, Virgil’s top up dose or otherwise. There’s a slight curling of his fingers, the muscle of his forearm under Star’s palm bunching noticeably as he does. The burned red of his face has bleached to an unhealthy grey save for the two spots of feverish crimson high on his cheeks.

“John?” Virgil’s noticed the pick-up in his brother’s heart rate, the boost of O2 to his brain on the monitors. “Hey buddy, you waking up there?”

Even with the fogginess of a head that feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, a haze of drug-induced numbness, John knows without opening his eyes that he’s in the medical room down on Tracy Island. There's just something that just makes the space instantly recognizable, whether you’re actually in control of your full cognitive capacity or not. It could be the weight of gravity, or the sharp, clean smell of antiseptic, or the constant bleep of monitors, but it’s altogether too familiar to be anywhere else. 

There’s a headache pounding his eyes and John notes that, despite the fact he’s only just woken up, he’s incredibly exhausted. He figures it must have been the pain that woke him: his chest sears on every exhale, a tight, awful stabbing sensation burning in his midriff. There’s a sharp, localised piercing feeling in his wrist, and a headache behind his eyes, and he feels so sick, curling and hot in his stomach. 

Blue-green eyes chance a peek and John registers, squinting against the bright white lights above his head, the presence of an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, cool air replacing each hot, rough breath he struggles to take.

“V’rgl?”

Star goes very, very still, hardly even daring to breathe. She leaves her arm where it is, pressed against John’s but stops the absent tracing, as if afraid he’ll notice she’s there. Her wide eyes track Virgil’s as he rushes over to check John over. She’s waiting for the dark haired Tracy to call false alarm, tell her she’s imagining things, but he never does. 

John doesn’t look particularly happy about it, but his eyes are definitely open, and Star is willing to take that. Her heart jolts in her chest each time his fingers curl by her elbow, blue eyes squinting around the room. John tries to fidget uncomfortably, an impossible feat, and Star stumbles uncoordinatedly upright, nearly landing on her ass, to place gentle hands on each side of his hips to keep him from moving, mirroring Virgil’s hand on his shoulder. Eventually, his eyes come to land on her.

Star startles like a deer in headlights. “Hey.”

“Star.” He breathes her name out like it tastes of pure, heady relief. “I…” Golden ginger lashes flutter, his eyes roaming the room again and lingering the sight of Virgil scrubbing at his eyes with the hand not holding down his shoulder. “Wh…?” His voice is thick and hazy with sleep, and he’s genuinely surprised by what a struggle it is to keep his eyes open. His focus narrows to the dark braid over Star’s shoulder and the feeling of small hands pressing down on his hips. He shifts a little, testing the reason for the holding him in place, and he’s rewarded by a hot, fiery sensation across his stomach and through his insides for it. He breathes out hard through his nose, O2 mask fogging. “Ow…” He manages weakly. “What…?”

“Stop moving,” Star admonishes lightly, taking her hands away now that he’s got the idea himself. “You’re fine where you are, okay? Just relax.”

She slouches back in her chair like a marionette who’s strings have been cut. She didn’t realise just how much she’d been expecting him to never wake up again until he said her name.

Someone’s taken the time to clean him up, wiping fever sweat from his skin and combing out his hair so that it feels soft against the pillow, curling, still just that little bit longer than he likes to keep it, around his ears. His lungs ache on every breath. Asphyxiation. His brain fills out from him, though he’s not sure where he got that idea from. I couldn’t breathe. He feels almost cold, the heat of the fever tricking his body into shivering, and stiff fingers bunch in the sheet over him, unconsciously trying to warm them. Star leans back forward when she sees the trembling fingers, taking his hands in her own to rub some warmth into them. It's a placebo and she knows it, his skin almost physically burns to the touch. 

“Hi John.” Virgil sounds tired right through, his eyes liquid with apology. “So, uh, I’ve got good news and bad news.” The wince at the cliché phrase must show on the spaceman’s face, “Ack, sorry.” He sits heavily on the edge of his brother’s bed, settling beside Star, “You’re probably confused. How much do you remember of what happened?”

John goes to shake his head, only to pale like he regrets the motion, the world spinning round him like he’s sat on the outside of the gravity ring. He squeezes his eyes shut once more with a groan.

“Still nauseous?” Virgil guesses, wisely, “I’ll up your antiemetics. I… Do you know where you are?” 

“Med room,” John croaks, his voice raspy with exhaustion and the damage to his lungs. “Tracy Island. Th’ gravity gives it away. Crn’t tell you the date though.” He looks to Star at his side, eyes scanning her skin and the very familiar sweater she’s wearing, as if checking her for injuries. “Y-you ok?” 

Star closes her eyes, very slowly, swallowing thickly. It takes her a moment before she opens them again, and when she does it’s on the promise of I’m fine. 

“I’m fine, John,” she gives his hands a little squeeze, “nothing happened to me. I’m completely and utterly, perfectly fine.” 

She gives him a little smirk when he does a disbelieving double take. “And it’s Thursday, just in case you were wondering.” Everything about her softens. “You’ve been asleep for a little while.” 

“What day was it when I went to sleep?” He sounds concerned. “If it's Thursday now?"

“Good lord,” Star smirks, “I’m going to buy you a calendar for Christmas.” John snorts at that, the rough laugh pleasant. 

“When’s Christm…?” He goes to say more, amused, but Virgil rests a distracting palm against his forehead, gauging his temperature.

“What’s the last thing you’ve got memories of?” Virgil doesn’t seem bothered that he’s interrupting, his voice soft, still trying to gauge John’s cognitive function. 

“I…” There’s a flicker of fear in John’s eyes, as he struggles to put the blurred, patchy fragments he’s got of his memory over the last twelve hours or so back into some kind of order. It’s like trying to make a jigsaw without all the pieces. “We were responding to a situation, a parallel station in orbit. Star and me.” He pauses to take a breath. “There was… uranium on board.” His mouth shuts in a tight, white line, as if it’s dawning on him exactly why he might be lying in a hospital bed. “Things are patchy but there was a man… The Hood.” The name sounds like it causes him pain, “He took my helmet. Star got it back and… we were heading for Five…? After that I’ve got nothing.” Virgil can’t help but be relieved about that. “How’d we… get home?” He brings a hand to where his stomach is a throbbing, tender ball of ow. “What hit me?”

Star smiles slowly, sadly, aware Virgil can’t fill the gaps John wants covering, but not entirely willing to do it herself.

“I used the grapples to get back to Thunderbird Five, good job you made me take extra, then called Thunderbird Three for a lift. Figured since it was up to me, we could do without the damned space elevator.” She tries to smile like Virgil had done, or like John does on a call mid-rescue, with scared civilians on the line and nothing but him to steer them away from pure panic. It doesn’t quite have the same effect. Star considers herself a lot of things, but a Thunderbird isn’t one of them. That, and the heavy insistent tug of full gravity and near death experience at the hands of her nemesis space, have left her reeling and shaky and not entirely sure she’s all there.

“Nothing wrong with m’space elevator.” John complains lightly, trying to stifle a yawn, “Everything Brains builds is way over-engineered anyway.” His fingers squeeze hers, as if even doped up to the eyeballs he can tell something is wrong with her.

“Nothing hit you, John,” she lets go of a hand, making another move to cup his face only to fall short. She rests the hand against his shoulder instead, thumb against his collarbone. “The Hood was stealing uranium. He cornered you in the vault, and he did take your helmet off, so you had a couple of minutes out of atmosphere, but we got it back for you. Unfortunately… you were in there with some broken canisters, so you’ve had some…” Star’s brain doesn’t seem to want to supply the words, as if not saying them will steal the truth of it from right out from under their noses, “exposure to radiation. Virgil’s much better at explaining all the medical mumbo jumbo, so I’ll leave that to him, yeah?”

John is looking at her a little shell shocked, and she grimaces.

“How you doing there, sweetheart?” She gets a small groan in response.

“Feels like someone landed the Space Elevator on me.” He jokes, evidently trying to make light of the ominous you’ve got radiation poisoning that’s hanging over his head. “Glad t’hear that’s not what happened. Damage report Virg?” He sounds eerily calm in the face of it, but the heartbeat racing on the monitors spells out a different story. “What was the bad news?”

Virgil looks hesitant, and kind of miserable to follow up on his earlier offer. It’s hard to know where to begin. There are a lot of potential side effects of radiation poisoning: tumours, loss of kidney function, pancreatitis, permanent immune diseases, diabetes, and those aside John’s going to be in it for the long haul with the more immediate effects.

“When Scott and Alan got there,” Virgil begins to explain, “you were presenting with nausea, a high fever, erythema, purpura, dizziness and disorientation, cognitive impairment and haemorrhaging from your damaged blood vessels. All symptoms of accurate radiation syndrome.” He takes a breath. “We had to perform a Laparotomy to correct the internal bleeding, so, uh, you’re going to be pretty sore around the waist for a while.”

“A what?” John blinks sluggishly, trying to work out just what that means. The headache really isn’t helping his cognitive processing. He can feel the pull of the line of neat stitches across his abdomen as he shifts. It feels like there’s something heavy resting on his chest. His fingers tighten around Star’s again, just a little. She can feel the fine tremble that’s started in the digits.

Star catches his heart racing away in the monitors, feels the tremble in his hands, and hooks her free arm around his chest, as though she would give him a hug if she weren’t so scared of breaking him.

“We sealed your leaky blood vessels.” Virgil confirms, worried about how much of this John is actually taking in, “Surgery went well, and we’re hoping you’ll be free of any secondary infections. Tests indicate that there’s been a severe decrease in your number of blood cells though, as is common with radiation exposure, including leukocytes.” The notices the lack of recognition in John’s eyes. “Uh, they’re the white blood cells, they’re the body’s primary defence against infection, so we’ve got to be really careful to keep you from getting any germs or small cuts for a while.” Virgil looks kind of sheepish about it, like he knows it’s going to be a rough road for a little while. “Your lack of red blood cells is gonna make you anaemic and your lack of platelets could make even a little bleed severe.” He cards a shaky hand backwards through his dark hair, glad he’s telling John these things to forewarn him, but feeling horrible that he has to. “We’ve got you on a PICC line to boost your cell count and correct the dehydration, iron levels and electrolyte imbalance. Brains is in his lab working on what the ideal balance of meds is gonna be.”

“That… sounds good?” Anything Brains is working on always comes round for the best sooner or later. John’s aware he’s never seen the man with a medical qualification though. He’s got a strong suspicion he’s soon going to become a human guinea pig. 

“It’s gonna be a pretty slow recovery I’m afraid. You’re going to be tired a lot more than normal and you’re on a course of immunotherapy and blood clotting medications. We’re expecting you to be nauseous a lot and have very little appetite, but you’re gonna have to suck it up a bit and eat what you can or else there’s gonna be a whole lot more IV fluids in your future, and really, we’ve got you on enough already.”

“If things don’t improve on IV alone, we might need to find a suitable match for an allogeneic stem-cell transplant, and possibly,” He hesitates, “a marrow transplant, from a donor, depending on the overall state of your red and white blood cell counts." Virgil pauses to let that sink in. “I’m going to test the boys and Grandma to see if any of us are a match, but I want to place you on the list at the Royal Melbourne in order to have the greatest chance of getting you a donor, should the need arise."

“And the good news?” John chuckles weakly, struggling to absorb all that.

“You’re alive.” Virgil offers him, fairly miserably. “And we’re gonna do our best to keep you that way, alright? I hadn’t finished the bad though,” He winces, apologetic, “I’m gonna have to take a sample of bone marrow, so we can check if the radiation has reached it. Scans have been inconclusive and you… well, you might need a transplant. Sorry John.”

“Does the sample have to be taken today? Like, now?” Star asks Virgil over her shoulder. Star can see John struggling, his brain going a mile a minute and still not entirely believing all the ways Virgil had just listed that could kill him. His brow is still pinched with pain, and he’s frowning slightly at his brother, lost in whatever the hell had stuck out of all that.

“Ideally.” At least Virgil has the grace to sound sorry about it. “The sooner we have the sample of your stem cells the sooner we can analyse it for abnormalities and, if needed, start our search for a match. And, honestly John, it’s probably gonna be better to get it over with. You can go back to sleep after, ok?” If he can.

“Is it gonna hurt?” John asks, his voice smaller than either of them have ever heard it. Virgil doesn’t offer him an answer.

“Hey,” she leans on the bed with her elbows, drawing one of his hands up in both of hers, pressing her mouth along the back of his knuckles. “Look at me.”

She waits patiently as he does, holding the captured hand up against her cheek. Hazy eyes do finally meet hers, she nods slowly, as if to say it’s alright without having to voice the traitorous lie. Speaking of traitorous, her eyes are getting hot and wet again, and she fights the tears back.

“Don’t think too hard about it, it’s not all important right this second. Just tell me what you need right now.”

“I… I don’t know.” John’s mouth shapes the admission, but his voice doesn’t sound at all like his. It’s smaller than Star has ever heard it. He sounds so overwhelmed, maybe even scared. “Sorry,” He mumbles, “I… I’m so tired and it’s a lot and…” He turns his head into his pillow, pressing his cheek down hard and hiding his face from them. The motion reveals a pockmarked trail of red purpura marks all up the side of his throat. They watch him take a long, ragged breath, then another. It’s a second or two before he pulls himself together.

“Don’t apologise,” Star murmurs into his hand, letting him have his minute to hide in the pillow. “You’re doing great.”

“Right.” John swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, “Let’s get this over with then shall we?” He looks up at them with liquid eyes and Virgil nods, the motion tight and controlled.

“Think we can get you onto your side?” It’s not really a question, but the illusion of choice seems to maintain some of John’s dignity in the situation. Too weak to help himself roll over, John, blearily, feels Virgil manipulating one of his arms to tuck it up by his cheek, and moving the other one straight out to the side, toward Star.

“It’s ok to cry Star.” He tells her softly, finding a weak smile for her beneath the oxygen mask even as Virgil folds back the covers and bends one of his knees for him and rolls him onto his side. The other leg gets bent to match, leaving him curled on his side with his knees tucked up to his chest. “It’s been a hard day, right?” A monitor bobs red somewhere above him, a drop in respiration. Virgil makes a displeased sound through his teeth.

“Yeah, I know,” she knows exactly what he’s talking about, there’s no way to even pretend not to, but she’s not about to give in that easily. No amount of showering and electrolyte complexes could scrub away the residue of having completely and utterly lost it, but John doesn’t need that right now. Star captures the hand that comes looking for her, bracing the other on his thigh to keep him from rolling over, or flinching away from Virgil. “No ones going to be upset or you do. It’s been a rough one.”

“Keep him talking to you.” He requests of her, trying to keep his brother’s anxiety down. “It’s alright John.” Virgil’s rolling up the thin blue cotton of his brother’s t-shirt, exposing the big adhesive pad stuck to his middle, hiding his perfect stitches. The medic rubs a quick hand soothingly over his brothers bare, red-pocked waist. “Hang tight, I’m just getting set up.” There are twin snaps as he pulls on IR blue latex gloves. John has to admit to himself, vaguely, that he’s very lucky his brother is brilliant.

It’s also lucky that John is turned away from him, being placed on his side having left him facing Star, and that doesn’t see the massive size of the weird, capped needle that Virgil’s setting up.

In a moment of stupidity, Star's eyes track Virgil’s movement and come to land on the needle. She hopes they don’t widen too obviously and snaps her gaze away, hunkering down close to John. Her heart is racing pounding painfully in her chest because that is going to hurt, and it’s going to hurt John.

“Ah,” she fumbles on a topic of conversation, everything seeming woefully insignificant for this. In the end, she plucks the first thing that comes to her mind that doesn’t start with an apology or include radiation poisoning. “So I have some complaints about the spacesuit, because that has got to be at least the third time I’ve had to wear it and ended up running around in my underwear when I’ve taken it off.”

She knows she’s not supposed to even be wearing her giant shirts when she’s got it on, she’s been told about the electrodes needing to sit flush against her skin more than once, but that isn’t the point. “We need to get some underclothes for them. Like the black in Star Trek. Imagine how slick we’d look? Speaking of, I’m renaming Thunderbird Five the Enterprise. I’ll change the label for your birthday.”

John snorted at her again, a touch of amusement joining the strain on his face.

“I thought I was getting a calendar?” There’s a weak smile, though it flickers as he feels Virgil’s cool hand land on his hip.

“No, no, calendar is for Christmas. I’m spray painting your Thunderbird for your birthday.” 

John looks like he might laugh again, or make a mock-offended complaint, only Virgil gets started.

"Okay, John…” He carefully cleans a small area of his brother’s lower back with a cold, sterile wipe, then rubs in a topical anaesthesia, his gloved fingers massaging the muscle of John’s back, trying to get him to lose the tension. “This is it… just relax as much as you can for me. You might feel a bit of pressure… A slight burn…"

Everything about him stiffens, grunting in pain, and Star just gives him something to hold onto, and holds onto him. Despite it, John can’t seem to help the whimper that escapes him at the feeling of the oversized syringe as it slides home. Punching through skin and muscle to pierce the back of his pelvis beneath, sliding unsettlingly easily into hard bone. A hot, bright flash of nausea almost makes his legs spasm, the need to curl further into his stomach strong, but Virgil’s got a steady hand, the one not holding the needle, on his brother’s hip and it luckily keeps him still while the thick needle sucks out his marrow. Being held still doesn’t mean he’s not very nearly sick then and there though, because it’s a close thing. John’s face screws up, his breathing short and sharp. He’s embarrassed to realise he’s shaking.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” She murmurs somewhat desperately, clinging on. “You’re doing great, baby. It won’t be long, we’ve got you, Virgil’s almost done.”

John’s teeth clench, and he screws his eyes even tighter shut at the sensation of the needle now retracing its route as Virgil carefully removes it. His muscles tense automatically, making Virgil’s job harder and leaving the spaceman gasping in sharp, clinical air like his abused lungs can’t quite cope with the shock. His stomach muscles are quivering.

"All done, John." Virgil’s gentle voice. “You did great.” A sticky pad gets pressed firmly into place, Virgil’s hand remaining there to apply pressure, while the other leaves his hip to hide away the needle device and it’s precious, extracted cargo - sealing it in a small, labelled bag to be sent to Brains lab for testing.

"Geez Virgil." John just about manages, breathlessly. "That hurt …"

"Sorry.” Virgil sounds just as deeply sincere for his tenth apology as he had for his first, “Just sit tight and rest, John, and then after about fifteen minutes, we can pop you on your back and you can sleep some more." Blue gloves are peeled away and discarded, the man doing so clearly more than slightly distraught. Trying to calm himself, Virgil settles on the side of the bed at his brother’s back, pulling down John’s rucked up T-shirt and tucking the covers up around his waist.

John hasn’t stopped trembling yet. The monitors are squealing his body’s displeasure, even if John can’t bring himself to vocalise it further. Star’s still there, in his space, smiling softly whenever his dazed eyes swing past her. Her own hands are sweating, throat tight against the tears that are threatening. She can feel the hysteria buzzing beneath her clammy skin, but she’s going to keep a lid on it in front of John if it’s the last thing she does. And Virgil… She's worried about Virgil too. The lot of them don’t need her mess as well.

“Close your eyes.” Virgil advises, “For a start.” He smooths his fingers through the curling strands of his brother’s hair, trying to be calming and fiercely hating, right now, with all his heart that his brother is going through this. The world can be just so damn unfair sometimes. Downright cruel. John doesn’t deserve any of this at all. Not for the first time today, Virgil kind of wants to break down in tears but John, sleepy, soft, in-pain John, still needs him. Scott isn’t due to be back for his shift for another five minutes and even then Virgil’s not actually sure he can leave him.

John does do as he’s asked though (a model patient compared to the fuss the rest of the Tracy brothers like to put up) and closes his eyes, hoping to doze until Virgil says it's time to move. There’s a hot, low throb going on in his lower back, spreading as an awful ache right through his back muscles. Hell if he’s not glad for the drugs Virgil’s pumped him full of. If he didn't have those right now, he’s pretty sure he'd be howling in agony… Rest sounds really, really good.

[missing-fanfics]

A Family Mystery Uncovered

Include the following in your story:

⟡Sunday ⟡secret ⟡wallpaper ⟡swap ⟡sister ⟡curiosity ⟡island ⟡notebook ⟡marathon ⟡demand

A/N: ello Sarah here. Hope you like this weird mess. Honestly these end up really weird and pretty garbage, but hopefully mildly entertaining.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: nothing I think...?

Charlie Weasley x Fem!reader

~~~~

There was a slight problem arising in the Burrow. Charlie Weasley had a secret. Now secret’s aren’t always a bad thing. Often times they are kept for a perfectly good reason and deserve to be kept. Molly Weasley understood that perfectly well, thank you. That didn’t stop her from becoming very angry at the thought that her second born son was keeping a secret from his own mum.

It started when Charlie would refuse to come back to England. Claiming that their was so much work to be done in Romania. No one batted an eye at his excuses. This was Charlie Weasley we’re talking about, it’s not like he did anything scandalous.

The lies to not return home shifted to being about work to being about his health, his home, to other workers at the sanctuary. It had been a solid 6 months until the last time he’d stepped foot into the Burrow.

This is what had been the last straw for Molly Weasley. Her curiosity clouding her judgment as she aparated to the Dragon Sanctuary.

⟡

With careful steps you stealthily made your way to the unsuspecting dragon. It’s dark grey tail swished in content as it dosed happily in the early Sunday sun. You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself as you remembered Hogwarts’ saying, never wake a sleeping dragon, my ass.

With a loud battle cry you launched herself onto the Hebridean Black’s back. He awoke with a start and cried out in surprise and anger. He started to trash around and spit fire up into the air, trying to kill any danger. You laughed loudly and ran a calming hand down his back and lightly humming.

“Good morning Ewan!” You yelled as you gripped onto his shoulder blades trying not get bucked off. The dragon calmed down slightly when it realised it wasn’t in any real danger. Smilingly brightly, you slid off the dragons in a rather awkward manor. Ewan spun around quickly and started to growl at you.

You put my hands to your hips and glared at the dragon like a mother scolding her children. Although Ewan was still considered a baby he was damn well old enough not to growl at you.

“Yeah yeah save the complaining for someone who cares.” You snarked strolling over to the bucket you dropped as you jumped onto the dragon. His angry expression changed rather quickly when he was the container of food you were bringing to him. For a fierce dragon he sure was a softy for food.

You placed the bucket down and tossed a deer leg into the air. Ewan jumped up and caught it with a satisfying clamp of his powerful jaws. You sighed dreamily as you watched him eat. Ewan was a being you loved to adore and also piss off.

“Oi! Y/L/N!” Someone shouted dragging your attention away from your handsome dragon. You tightened your ponytail and spun around to see a rather buff ginger man walking towards you.

“Charlie!” You yelled grinning at him. He rarely would come into the nursery area, but whenever he did you made sure to leave him in a much better mood. Ewan usually left him with a new sick scar for getting too close to his adoptive mother. But all this was very worth it to Charlie.

You hastily ran over to him and pulled him into a chaste kiss. Both smiling too much to do anything further.

“If I would’ve known you were visiting me I would’ve worn my sexy dungarees.” You teased with a smile. Charlie grinned and pulled you to him with a content sigh. He gripped you by the waist and put his chin on you head.

Ewan growled as he watched the two of you. With a loud huff he took flight and dramatically flew the couple of yards to you.

“Someone jealous.” Charlie said in your ear as Ewan landed loudly in front of you both “He’s always in a constant demand for your attention.”

You smirked at your dragon and pulled away from Charlie regretfully.

Charlie snickered as he watched you tackle the young dragon to the ground. Ewan snorted with glee and chased you around the field.

You had the idea to start building bonds with the dragons in order to be able to do your job safer in the future. This meant you were constantly in the nursery and at this particular moment, playing and taking care of an orphaned Hebridean Black.

You were on the rescuing team when they found him off the coast of Gills cowering for fear in an abandoned nest on the Island of Stroma. You had immediately bonded with him and you stayed with him the entire way back to Romania from Scotland.

Charlie smiled at his girlfriend as you ran around the nursery. You had always done things unconventionally around the Dragon Sanctuary. As a newbie this had gotten you burns and reprimands from your superiors. But as a very experienced magizoologist all of your insane ideas only brought better results than anyone had ever seen.

You were the first person to tame and ride a dragon. Her name was Yeva, you had raised her from a newborn hatchling to a proud powerful adult. The beautiful Ukrainian Ironbelly was a fierce thing to be reckoned with and with a grinning witch on her back, her danger doubled.

Charlie grinned as he watched you run towards him. You unceremoniously slumped down next to him on the beautiful green grass. You grinned as you watched Ewan run around chasing his tail. You watching him in great interest before noticing just how many similarities he had with a dog. Sure an extremely dangerous dog, but a dog nonetheless.

You scribbled your findings into your trusty notebook. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration and Charlie couldn’t help but smile softly as he stared at you. You were simply sitting on the ground, your body covered in dirt from rolling around with Ewan all day. Charlie never thought you looked more beautiful.

You looked up, feeling Charlie’s eyes on you. A grin graced your face, but when you saw his intense expression your smile softened.

“Charlie darling, what is it?” You asked, your voice soft. You tilted your head and moved to sit facing him a little better.

Your notebook was shoved to the ground as Charlie surged on you. His lips meeting yours and you melted against him. His arm snaked around your waist. Soft lips and a passionate kiss, love pouring from him and into you as his tongue traced the inside of your mouth as if he was trying to memorize it. He felt so incredibly warm under your touch and his love burned your skin, absolute adoration coursing through you straight from his own heart.

You felt as if you had just run a marathon but you loved the burn in your lungs. Nothing would separate you from the man you loved. He was the one to break the kiss but leaned his forehead against yours. Both of your eyes stayed shut as you stayed in your intimacy, catching your breaths.

A laugh bubbles up in you as you pressed a quick peck to his lips before standing. His eyes stayed close even after you pulled away, staying in the moment. He opened them after a few moments to see you brushing off your very dirty work clothes.

“Come on big boy let’s go make some lunch. You have Norberta duty today and you need all the energy you can get.” You said giggling. You offered a hand to pull him up which he accepted with a groan.

“I still think you rigged that.” Charlie said swooping down and gathering your notebook and the bucket that once contained deer legs. You snorted and rolled your eyes.

“You can’t rig a game of exploding snap. You’re just a sore loser.” You quipped and reaches up to ruffle his hair. “Unless you’re a really really smart and good looking dragon expert who swapped yours out for a bad one.” He narrowed his eyes at you and shook his head.

“You’re gonna regret doing that.” He said as a mischievous smile spread across his face. Your eyes widened and you took off running to your shared hut. Charlie was faster and grabbed you by the waist and hurled you up. You shrieked out a laugh as he threw you over his one of his broad shoulders.

“Charlie!” You screeched as he started running and you bumped on his shoulder uncomfortably.

“Sorry darling I don’t listen to cheaters!” He yelled and you laughed harder as he ran with you.

Charlie stopped running abruptly as he carried you to your shared hut. The lights were on inside and a comforting scent of food wafted from one of the opened windows. He placed you down carefully, both of your expressions going hard as he pulled out his wand and caustically walked towards the door.

Charlie’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped once he saw his mother bustling around the kitchen. She didn’t seem to notice either of you walk in and you cocked your head to the side trying to see the intruder over Charlie’s shoulder.

“Mum?” Charlie exclaimed finally gaining her attention. She froze from making a seasoned chicken fly towards the stove.

“Charlie dear! I came in to see you but realised you were gone.” She said smiling brightly. You cowered behind Charlie, becoming shy in the presence of the woman that raised your boyfriend.

“Erm mum. This is Y/N.” Charlie said rubbing the back of his neck. Molly’s eyes widened as she noticed you behind Charlie’s stocky frame. “My uh...girlfriend.”

You suddenly wanted nothing more than to blend into the wallpaper as Molly stared at you with an unreadable expression. Charlie cleared his throat and grabbed your hand that was shaking. He ran a thumb over your knuckles trying to soothe you.

Molly watched this exchange and snapped out of her trance. She smiled brightly and rushed over to the two of you.

“Hello dear, I’m Molly. I didn’t know Charlie had a girlfriend, you are very pretty.” She said pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. You laughed as she pulled away. Charlie watched you two with an adoring smile.

“How long have you been together? What’s your name? You work here too? Is Charlie treating you well? You live together?!” You blinked trying to keep up with her questions. You looked to Charlie for help as Molly started to overwhelm you.

“Sorry about that Mum it’s just that I didn’t want to overwhelm Y/N when we were just getting to know one another. It wasn’t intentional to hurt anyone.” He said stopping Molly from her rapid questions at you.

Molly made tea for the three of you. As she sat in your small living room, you and Charlie remained in the kitchen.

“She seems absolutely wonderful, I don’t know why you were so nervous for me to meet your family.” You said taking a sip of the Irish Breakfast tea in your hands. Charlie sighed and leaned against the counter.

“That’s just my mum. If you met my brothers or my sister you’d go running for the hills.” He huffed. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“If they’re anything like you then I’m sure I’ll love them. And even if they’re weird, so what? Weird is more interesting.” You placed your mug down and wrapped your arms around him. His tense posture relaxed as you nuzzled your face into his neck.

“I love you.” You mumbled as he pulled you closer to him. He rested his head onto your shoulder.

“I love you too.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Please can I ask E, L, O and Z from the writer asks list.

Of course you can!  I’m always up for answering things :D

E. Have you ever written a crossover?

Yup!  I’ve written a handful of them actually, from my first and only bashing fic Vampire vs Shinobi (Twilight and Naruto - I have always hated Twilight) which ngl is only still up on my accounts because it’s something I’ve written and if I prune fics to only be the ones I’m currently proud of... many fics would not stay up very long.  My second-biggest fic, both in terms of wordcount and popularity, it also a crossover.  The Combat School was my twist on the super common 2012 trope “the exorcists from the manga D.Gray-Man take part in the Triwizard Tournament”, and was my first 100k word fic and I think still ranks highly if you look at Harry Potter/DGM crossovers on FFN by reviews/favourites/followers.  I think at one point it was as high as 4th but I doubt it’s that high any more.  Slightly sneaky is my TAG/Fight Rising crossover Stolen Shadows, because strictly speaking you could just call it a dragon!AU for TAG, but they’re based on the fandragons I’ve got for the Tracy boys+Thunderbirds on the site and FR does have its own category on AO3 and FFN.

I think those are my only published ones, but I do enjoy prodding at ‘what if these two ‘verses collided’ in my head so there are a few others floating around that’ll probably never be actually written, but they’re fun to play with.

L. What is your favourite fic idea that you don’t think you’ll ever write?

Oh boy, this one’s tough.  I usually try to write everything I think is worth anything, but some of them are just huge, so whether or not they’ll happen is another matter entirely.  Because I’m really bored I’ll talk about all the current ‘huge and too ambitious to probably ever finish’ ideas.  If they do end up one day happening, ah well, you heard them here first :P

Love Makes Fools (One Piece) - A retelling of the Wano Arc (most likely to be scrapped because the daydreaming I call planning happened long before the arc started so none of it is anything like how Oda’s actually shown) that’s actually a shipping fic, unusually for me.  Shachi saves Kid’s life and Kid falls in love with him, leaving Shachi to handle the Kid Pirates while the StrawHeart alliance are off doing their usual crazy shenanigans and winding Kaido up.

Fight Against the Tide (Boku no Hero Academia) - A retelling of the entire manga except it’s not Izuku that’s Quirkless, but Bakugo, and unlike Izuku, Bakugo is determined to make it on his own and turns down the offer of One for All (but still manipulates All Might into training him).  Lots of Bakugo and Mei chaos as she gives him the support gear he needs to keep up without a Quirk.

If They Never Were (One Piece) - A retelling of the entirety of One Piece (ahahah) except if Luffy never met Shanks and therefore a) never wanted to be a pirate and b) never ate the Gomu Gomu no Mi.  Follows Luffy’s adventures in the Marines, and explores what would have happened to the rest of the Straw Hats if they never met Luffy - or at least, never met pirate!Luffy.  I actually have a cast of OCs ready to go for this but this project is so ludicrously big I doubt it’ll ever be finished.

TAGxPJO thing - The Greek Gods foresaw the creation of IR and agreed with it, but there was one problem: the Tracy family are all suited to the sky, but most of the Earth is covered in water.  Cue Gordon Tracy, son of Lucille Tracy and... Poseidon!  The Tracys all know about demigods and gods and stuff but still consider Gordon their full brother, and to keep the monsters away from the powerful young demigod they ended up on the island where Poseidon could protect them (and a promise from Zeus that he won’t blast Thunderbirds out of the sky for having a son of Poseidon in them).  Chiron’s going crazy knowing there’s a demigod out there somewhere that he can’t find and train.

TAGxDCMK thing - Okay, so this one is probably my absolute favourite.  Scott sees something on a rescue that the Black Org didn’t want him to, so he got APTX’d, and TB1 got stolen.  Conan and Haibara take him in and hide him from the world (including his own family) and he joins the fight to take down the BO.  Meanwhile, the Tracys are going crazy looking for Scott.  In this AU no-one knows who IR really are, so Conan and co. don’t know Scott’s real name.  However, the Tracys are still a rich family so they’ve rubbed shoulders with the Kudos before and Scott’s met Shinichi as a kid and realises who he is.  At some point they end up going to Tracy Island?  idk, not sure where it would go after that.  And KID is involved because you can’t not involve KID.

O. Is there any fandom you’ve been into that you haven’t written fic for? Why not?

Many, usually because I’m just not inspired enough to actually write anything for them.  If they’ve got a really complex canon, or something I just can’t get my head into, I tend to not write, either.  Same with if there’s a character I can connect to enough.  Examples include Homestuck, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures (although I do have a vague wip for a Steel Ball Run fic, actually) and Miraculous Ladybug, but I’m sure there’s more if I think harder.

Z. Post an excerpt from either your first fic or your most recent one.

Oh hell, why don’t we do both so I can cringe and cry and what I used to be like vs what I’m like now.  Going with posted only (wips are a whole other kettle of fish).

First ever posted fic, from September 2009: Unwanted (Naruto).  The opening:

There was not a sound to be heard. For once, there was no breeze caressing the emerald leaves in the forest surrounding Konoha. Not a single bird sang; nothing stirred. The bright blue sky didn't contain one cloud - the sunshine was unbroken.

A raven haired teenager stood in the heart of the wood, gazing emotionlessly at the Village Hidden in the Leaves with cold, black eyes.

"It's changed," he murmured quietly. There was a rustle behind him and his three companions appeared.

"So there's your hometown, Sasuke," the silver haired shinobi said, violet eyes inspecting the village. "It's pretty busy." He was right - they could just about make out the general hubbub of village life. The dark haired adolescent said nothing.

"What's wrong, Sasuke-kun?" the only kunoichi in the team asked, putting one hand on Sasuke's chest where his shirt was open, and the other embracing him. He shrugged her off coldly.

"Quit flirting with Sasuke you cow, Karin," the silver haired ninja told the red head.

"I'm not a cow, Suigetsu you...you..." she spluttered, unable to think of a bad enough insult.

"Shut up you two," the final member of the team said quietly, his fiery eyes glinting in the sunlight. Karin and Suigetsu quickly stopped bickering. With much trepidation, Sasuke started to walk towards the gate. He hadn't eaten for days - starving himself, pushing himself further. His vision blurred slightly, but he carried on walking. It wasn't long, however, before everything went black and he fainted.

Most recent fic, from July 2020: Grounded (Thunderbirds).  The ending:

"Scott?" Virgil sounded worried, and he opened his eyes – when he had closed them? – to look up at his worried brother. Alan and Gordon hovered nearby, and he looked at them all in turn, even John's silent hologram – his ginger brother hadn't been there when the test had started, hadn't been expected after he pointed out their holotech's range didn't reach that far. "Are you okay?"

Was he okay? He had a broken rib, was recovering from a near-fatal spider bite and its side effects of dehydration, bradycardia and hypotension, and the man who had almost killed his brothers multiple times was standing the other end of the same balcony.

But they were one step, one significant step closer to Dad.

"Yeah," he said, staring out past them, at the platform cradling the most important engine International Rescue had ever created. For the first time since that horrid trash mine day five weeks earlier, he could honestly say, "I'm okay."

I’ll leave you guys to be the judge on whether or not I’ve improved at all.  I’d like to think I have.

[bigbig00f]

Three months (a Albert/Ractrack/Spot/Elmer fic)

WARNING; angst, fires, talk about depression (a little)

DESCRIPTION: Albert and Race work on a drill island and one day, a fire breaks out.

--:--

When an alarm wakes up Albert, he shoots up from his bed and quickly puts on an overall and his workshoes, grabbing his helmet as he runs out of his room. When he runs out to the deck of the platform he's on, he passes Races room and for a second he wants to stop and check if the blonde boy is there. But he quickly remembers Race was on duty so was probably already on deck.

Apparently, some stuff caught on fire and now, because of a leak in one of the giant pipes that pump up oil from the ground, the platform was at risk of blowing up.

"We have to get down there and fix the hole. That way the flames can't get in the pipes" Albert says, taking charge of the situation, after all, he was the leader of the day crew. Racetrack shakes his head "we can't ask that of any of the crew, the people going down will get burned alive! We just need to evacuate and pray it won't explode" he says and Albert remembers that Race is in charge of the night crew.

"If we don't do anything, oil will spill in the ocean and thousands of people will die! I'm going down there and anybody who is willing to help can come along. Ideally, I need 4 people" Albert says, turning to all the people on deck. Race gaped at him, not knowing how to stop his boyfriend from doing this.

"Albo... don't do this. You'll die" he says softly to the redhead who was getting his and his crews gear ready. Albert can't help but smile at the nickname. "If I don't, you might die. Elmer or Spot might die. And, I might survive. Just have hope okay? You can not stop me" he says, pulling a oxygen tank on his back and helping one of volunteers to do the same.

"We're just going to go into the pipe, weld the hole close and come back. If we aren't back in 30 minutes, leave the platform." Race starts shaking his head but Albert grabs his shoulders "promise me, you'll leave and get home safely" the blonde boy nods before kissing Albert, not caring about the fact that the whole crew saw.

-----

Albert felt his skin burn and knew he wasn't going to survive this. But, he still lowered himself into the pipe and told the crew to wait there and only come down if he would ask for help. As he was hanging near the hole, welding it as fast as he could, he could feel his tears evaporating before they could even fall.

When he saw more holes, he wanted to scream about how this could happen. But, instead, he called his crew who all came down and together they were done fairly quickly. But, because of the fact that he had been hanging there for 15 minutes more than the rest of the crew, Albert was covered in burns, his clothes melted to his skin. He couldn't move so the crew pull him out and carry him up to the deck.

-----

34 minutes after Albert left, said boy came back. Only, Race almost didn't recognise his beautiful boyfriend. As two men carried him to the medics, Race quickly walked next to them, helping them take off the oxygen tank, forgetting it was really hot so burning his hands "did it work? Are we safe?" He was only asking these questions because then, he wouldn't feel guilty about leaving the crew to fly with Albert to the hospital on land.

One of the people that went with Al nods their head "yeah, now go. We'll handle it ourselves, we'll mail you details" the person pushes Race in the med copter and Race couldn't be more thankful.

-----

As the medcopter arrives at the hospital and Albert gets rushed into intensive care, Racetrack calls Spot, hoping he would pick up, despite the time difference.

"Hello, this is Sean Conlon"

"Spot, thank fucking god you picked up. It's Al, he's in the hospital. He... h-he saved us all but it w-was too hot and he got burned... I t-tried to stop him, I s-swear" Race starts sobbing. The line stays quiet for a while.

"How bad is it?" Spot asks softly and Racer tries to calm down a bit so he can answer.

"His clothes were almost all burned away and melted on his skin. His face is not that bad but I almost didn't recognise him because there are some bad burns on his forehead and neck" his voice luckily stays steady but when he hears Elmer sob in the background, he starts crying again.

"Where are you now?" Elmer asks, letting Race know he's on speaker.

"A hospital in Dubai"

"Shit, okay uhm, we can't get there fast but I'm sure we can get tickets so we'll be there in max a day" Spot says and Race hears him type on his old pc keyboard.

"Spot... w-what if he d-dies?" Racer sobs into the phone and Elmer starts crying louder and excuses himself for a second to calm down.

"You can't think like that. I can't find tickets... Elm, honey, can you please help me look? Track, my battery is dying sweetheart. Is it okay if we call you back?"

Racetrack nods before remembering he's on the phone and muttering a quick "yeah, love you guys" before hanging up.

-----

When a doctor walks up to Race, the blonde is sleeping on a bench in the waiting room. The doctor clears his throat and Race bolts up, wide awake.

"Mister Dasilva just came out of surgery, he will be fine" the tired looking doctor says with a thick accent and Racetrack almost cries in relief.

"Can Is see him?"

"He won't be awake for a while, a 6 hour surgery isn't nothing. But, as long as you're quiet, you can go see him. I have to warn you though.

He was in really bad shape when he got here so he will have permanent damage to the skin and muscle tissue on his arms and a little less on his legs. We tried to minimise said damage by using donated skin and such but you can never be sure. The only thing we couldn't really fix is his face. The burns are too light for us to use plastic surgery but they will definitely be there the rest of his life. Don't be too shocked when you see him. He's in room 246"

During the doctors speech, Races eyes had filled with tears again and it took everything in him to not run to Alberts room halfway through. When the doctor was done though, Racetrack runs to the room Al is in and sits next to the bed. Albert is covered in special cooling bandages and honestly looks like shit.

Race carefully takes his hand and starts crying again. He soon cries himself to sleep.

-----

When Race wakes up, it's because of two things. The first thing is noises from outside the room and the second more important one is Alberts hand moving and said boy waking up.

"Track? Did it work?" The ginger boy asks, his voice cracking a few times. Racetrack nods, his eyes filling with tears

"You almost died. I told you you were going to get burned alive" he says weakly.

Before Albert can respond, the sounds from outside get really loud.

"What's that"

"I don't know, I'll go look" Race gets up and looks outside, down the hall. Standing there, arguing with a nurse was Spot. Next to him was Elmer, trying to stop Spot from kicking the nurses ass.

Racetrack runs to his boyfriends.

"Guys, you made it" he says, sounding like a kicked puppy. The two boys turn away from the nurse who quickly walks away, and pull Race in a hug.

"Where's Albo?" Elmer asks and Race takes them to the room. He quickly tells them what the doctor told him before opening the door and letting his boyfriends into the room.

"Hey guys, what are you doing here?" Albert asks with a smile as Spot and Elmer both take his hands.

"We're here to check if you didn't die" Spot says, his eyes on the bandages that cover Alberts forehead.

"How dare you do this? Why did you have to play the hero? You should've listened to Racer! You are so stupid" Elmer says, crying and not looking at Albert.

"I'm sorry Eli, but if the platform had exploded, so many people would've died... I promise I won't do it again" Albert says, looking a little sad.

-----

After 2 months, Albert could finally go home to New York. After 4 more months, his burns had healed. They still hurt but the doctors said that that was normal.

His boyfriends had been such a big help in his recovery, he didn't know what he would do without them.

But, there are things Albert doesn't tell his boyfriends. Like the fact that he has nightterrors every night and the fact that he fears his boyfriends leaving him one day when they finally realise they don't want to date Wade Wilson.

So, when Elmer finds him in the bathtub at 3 o'clock in the morning, crying and shaking, it's a bit of a shock.

"Albo, honey... what's going on? Are you in pain?" his youngest boyfriend asks, reaching out to touch him but stopping halfway, not wanting to hurt him. He didn't realise that not touching Albert actually hurt him more.

"El... I've been lying. To everyone. I- I'm not okay. Sometimes, I wish I had died in the fire. I'm in so much pain every day. And I haven't slept more than 2 hours per night since I'm home." Albert doesn't have to look at Elmer to know his boyfriend was crying. That didn't stop him, though

"You guys... you guys are amazing but really, I know you're just with me because you feel bad. And I know that, and I am too selfish to leave. I know you are going to say that it's not true, that you love me. But I know Spot gets panic attacks after he touches me, I know Race cries himself to sleep and tries to work as much as possible to not see me. And I know you won't even touch me.

It's fine though, I get it. I look disgusting." Elmer was sobbing now, shaking his head and trying to stop Alberts rant.

"It's just, I have nowhere to go so please let me look for an apartment before kicking me out" the redhead says, finally done. Elmer takes a few breaths to calm down

"Albo, no. We are not kicking you out... we do still love you but we are s-so scared of hurting you... Spot feels so fucking guilty when you flinch away from his touch even though it's not his or your fault. Race blames himself for what happened and is trying to make it right. He is working himself to the bone... and I just don't want to hurt you by touching the wrong spot..."

Albert doesn't look at his boyfriend, hating himself even more now he made the normally positive boy cry.

"listen, we need to discuss these things with the other fellas. I'll tell Race and Spot to cancel work tomorrow and we'll work this out... Should I wake them now? I know Race calms you down better than me" when Al shakes his head, Elmer sighs "okay... At least come cuddle with me on the couch? The bathtub can't be comfortable"

Albert lets Elmer help him out of the tub and onto the couch where Elmer carefully clings to Albert like he used to do before the incident. Albert wraps his arms around the younger boy and pulls him closer

" 'm not made of glass" he mutters before kissing the top of Elmers head and smiling for the first time in what feels like months.

-----

After that, everything got a bit easier for Albert and for the first time in 6 months, he felt hopeful. Hopeful his boyfriends weren't going to leave him, hopeful his pain would get better, hopeful he would get better.

Of course his arms and legs still ached most days and his face would never be the same but Spot started holding his hands again, Race stopped working as much and Elmer clinged to him when they all cuddled. He wasn't better but at least he had his boyfriends.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Armed (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Gen Warnings: None Characters: Penguin, Law, Shachi, Bepo

"You need weapons," Law said bluntly. Penguin looked at Shachi, who was pulling himself back to his feet after losing a spar against Bepo, and then at his captain. Law was stood in the doorway of the room they'd repurposed as a training room, arms crossed and looking decidedly unimpressed.

"We have knives," Shachi argued, reaching for the hidden sheath beneath the breast flap of his boiler suit. Penguin felt the solid press of his own in the same place. Law raised an eyebrow as if he thought Shachi was being ridiculous.

"Why do you two insist on hand to hand combat?" he asked. "You only took the knives because I made you." And you're both useless with them hung in the air, unsaid but very much felt. Penguin wore it because Law said so, but he hadn't drawn it since he'd almost killed Shachi with it, and he knew Shachi was of a similar frame of mind. He shrugged, and saw the ginger do the same. "You used a club on Swallow Island, Shachi," Law continued, and the other teen fidgeted uncomfortably.

The club – if it could be called that, more like a carved lump of wood more suited to hitting balls than heads – had been for intimidation purposes. It drove most of their would-be challengers away without a fight, and a solid swing took out several of those that still thought they had a chance. It hadn't really been a weapon, not like the short sword Law had procured and wielded as if it was a simple extension of his arm. When neither of them said anything, Law sighed.

"You need to be competent in several disciplines," he told them, striding towards them with purpose. Penguin could barely shift his weight before he was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Law was still far too fast for him. "That knife of yours isn't for decoration," he heard his captain scold, before Shachi let out a muffled yelp and a thud signified his own acquaintance with the floor.

Penguin rolled onto his front before pushing himself up to his knees in time to see Bepo successfully defend himself from his own attack. He wanted to grouse that that was hardly fair when Bepo had seen it happen to both himself and Shachi and knew what was coming, but it was also the truth that the mink was far superior to the rest of them – Law included – at hand to hand combat.

"With your electro, you're fine," Law told him, to be caught in a pleased bear hug. "Oof!" Penguin finished his clamber to his feet and moved to stand besides Shachi, who was also back on his feet, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "You two, on the other hand," their captain continued, not even bothering to try escaping from the mink's embrace. "We've got enough savings now. Next island, you're getting weapons."

Penguin hadn't known they had any savings at all, convinced that Law had spent every spare beri on their now impressive infirmary. Law looked at them expectantly, and they shrugged. There was no helping things when Law got an idea into his head, and honestly, getting a weapon or two probably wasn't a bad idea.

True to his word, the next island they landed on found Penguin and Shachi being herded into a weapons shop, where Law promptly began arguing with the owner over weapons. The two Swallow Island natives looked at each other and shrugged helplessly.

"So, we just pick the one we like?" Shachi asked, and both Law and the shop owner made scandalised noises before launching into a unified lecture on how weapons had to be suitable and blah blah blah. Penguin wasn't interested in swords – never had been, never would be – so being in a shop surrounded by the things wasn't as awesome as Law made it out to be.

Shachi seemed happier, then again Penguin had seen him playing around with Law's short sword a couple of times when he'd thought he was alone. While Law and the shop owner found something else to disagree about and returned to their argument, the ginger headed over to a katana with a red hilt and oval shaped tsuba. He gave it a few swings, almost knocking over a display stand in the process, before grinning.

"I'll take this one," he proclaimed, drawing Law's attention as the younger teen immediately began to fuss over the size and weight and length and-

Okay, that was all way over Penguin's head. Shachi was nodding along vigorously, half-comprehending what their captain was talking about, but Penguin was lost after the first sentence and returned his attention to the racks and racks of weapons in front of him. He figured he was supposed to pick up a sword, like Shachi had, but all he saw when he looked at them were big clunky knives.

"You're no swordsman," the shop owner said, appearing by his elbow and making him jump. Penguin glanced over at Law, who was still distracted by Shachi and the sword in his hand. "Not like your friend." He shrugged and sent the man an unimpressed look, which was ignored. Either the man was used to that sort of thing, or Penguin's hat had ruined the effect. It was probably a bit of both.

"What gave it away?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Swords aren't my only trade," the owner continued, as if he hadn't spoken. Oh yes, this man was definitely used to customers like Penguin and clearly stopped caring a long time ago. "You might find something more to your liking over there." He gestured to a shadowed alcove, out of sight of the front of the shop, and Penguin sent him a suspicious look before heading towards the area.

The man was right, swords weren't his only trade. The only thing he could say about all the weapons was that they were all bladed. Penguin didn't even know the names of most of them, from the beautifully elegant longstaffs with a curved blade to the circles of nothing but raw steel. All the fanciness was lost on him. Penguin had simple roots, and liked to keep things simple.

His hands closed around a mid-brown haft, the wood smooth under his fingers. There was a grip, two thirds of the way down, comprised of red twine, and a matching wrapping circled the top of the haft, where the long and razor-sharp double-edged blade met the wood. The weapon was far, far longer than he was tall, but it was well balanced and Penguin twirled it in his hands, ignoring the crash of several probably expensive items being knocked off of their displays. It reminded him of the branches he would pick up back on Swallow Island to show off with.

"Ah, the yagi," the shop owner said, seemingly unconcerned with the carnage Penguin had just unleashed in the corner of his shop. "A solid choice."

"Are you trying to compensate for something?" Penguin turned around to see Shachi's grinning face. The katana he'd selected earlier was resting against his shoulder, now in a matching sheath, and Law was reaching for a bag of beri with a resigned look on his face.

"You're not practising with that inside," his captain told him before he could compose a retort, then turning to the shop owner. "So how much?"

Either weapons were really expensive, or they were being charged for the breakages as well, but Law forked over the thousands of beris without complaint (leaving Penguin to once again wonder where the hell all the money had come from), before they walked out the door with their new weapons.

"Penguin," Law said as they headed back to the Tang – the pace was unusually brisk, and Penguin started to get a suspicion of how, exactly, they'd afforded the weapons so easily – and he made a noise of acknowledgement. "You do realise you'll have to teach yourself, I hope. The yagi is not a weapon I've learnt." Penguin shrugged and looked up at his new acquisition fondly.

"I think I'll manage, Captain," he said, before they heard an outraged yell from behind them and Law lost all pretence of walking, breaking into a sprint back towards their ship. Penguin and Shachi shared an amused look before following.

Yeah, they definitely hadn't had that much money in their savings.