#teen brother virgil

[edutainer2022]

I'm chilling at a bus station in Budapest, waiting for my commute back home, so I added a couple of bits to the TV-21 aftermath story (both in the past and in the TAG present).

DO-OVERS

"It isn't what it looks like!"

It really wasn't. He wished John's eyes didn't turn to hard crystal from where the brother was standing in the bathroom doorway. Scott knew the turquoise lazer scanners already did the math and counted the pills, scattered on the tiles. But it WASN'T what it looked like. Scott spilled them.

Well, technically he threw them on the floor like they were burning coals, but the intent counted, right?

His hands were shaking. Everything was wrong. TV-21 was lost. Again. No amount of upbeat platitudes Scott said to calm down  and cheer up Allie could make it better. He let Dad down. Again. He didn't save what mattered to Dad most. Again. He just wanted to stop shaking. Or maybe to just stop. Maybe John, pale in the doorway, didn't need to know that.

He hadn't touched the prescription bottle in his bathroom cabinet for years. Since a smirking mustached general on a GDF committee, assembled to evaluate his claim for IR to go operational again, wondered out loud how they would know his judgement in the danger zone would not be impaired, if the GDF discharged him for being too traumatized to see straight in the first place. His therapist wouldn't be happy about that, but he stopped taking her calls around the same time too.

Today he just needed to calm down. He needed to be strong for Allie, who didn't remember Dad's first Thunderbird, and for Gordie, who did. For Virgil and John, who remembered Dad's dark, stormy grief and withdrawal from them. For Grandma, who needed him to see her son's dreams through.

One little pill, maybe two. But his hands were shaking, as the TV-21 exploding conflated with a different one behind his eyelids - so much combustion energy to take Dad away. So one pill became a palmfull. He was just staring at his hand for a while. Okay, it WAS tempting. John DEFINITELY didn't need to know about that. It would just stop. All of it. The pain, the failure, the fear, the losses. Gone. Like Mom was gone. Like Dad was gone. [No matter what he said or did could make it right.]

But then he saw his brothers, ashen from grief and days of crying, all clad in black suits. Again. Alone and lost without him. Again.

So he threw the pills forcefully away, as if burned. They clattered like pebbles on the tiles and skipped everywhere. That's when John came in, because John too knew his tells. And now John didn't believe him, clutching his shoulders and shaking, yelling that he drank water, yelling into his comm for Virgil and a bloodtest kit. Even if it wasn't what it looked like. Not really.

***

Virgil was doing what he did best - fixing. Maybe also hiding. He couldn't fix TV-21 and Dad's shattered dream. He couldn't fix Scott's heartbreak and poorly hidden assumed failure now any more than he could fix it all those years ago. But he COULD help fix Four and with it - the mood of the despondent little Squid. One brother sorted out was exponentially better than zero brothers. Then his comm blared red.

The code was "Two-one", and 2-1 meant TV-21, and TV-21 was bad news. Bad, bad news. John's grim, tense face in the holo confirmed as much and Virgil felt the island shift and spin beneath his feet, as he legged it to Scott's rooms.

***

[Once the Tinies were settled for the night, Scott stayed down in the living room to try and catch Dad on his way out of the office. He'd been locked in there for the past several hours with the young engineer, who designed TV-21. Shaken by nearly loosing Dad to the crash, they only ever glimpsed a flash of fuming fury when Dad and "Brains" returned from the failed test flight. So Scott lingered on the couch way past the bedtime in hopes to talk to Dad some more. A mistake, as it turned out.

The teen's attempt at a smile and a simple, if heartfelt, reassurance was shot down sternly when Dad finally emerged for a glass of water and a stifled curse, only to disappear again back into the study, lit by gossamer holo-light of schematics and figures in the conference call.

"Nothing you say or do can make this right, Scott! Go to bed!"

Virgil and John watched in horror, from behind the rails of the upper floor, how Scott swayed, as if slapped, when the door slamed behind Dad again. The lanky figure then doubled over, bracing himself on a chair. Scott tried and failed to gasp through a wrecking sob, clamping a hand over his mouth to suppress the sound.

The brothers were frozen in shock, hesitant what to do as Scott looked about ready to keel over. He was probably hyperventilating, air weezing with effort through constricted pain.

Virgil stepped tentatively towards the stairs, John clutching his sleeve nervously. But Scott steadied himself for a moment only to bolt through the kitchen and out of the back door into the pitch darkness.

The brothers didn't wait any longer, practically tumbling down the stairs and on to the back porch, but Scott, the high school track star, was long gone.

They would be in so much trouble if Dad caught them downstairs, awake, on a school night, but Dad obviously was... otherwise occupied.

John, pale and wide-eyed, on the verge of tears himself, kept dragging Virgil's sleeve to run after Scott. Only which way? The farm bordered on the meadow. It was already dark. Scott could be anywhere.

Where Scott went - Virgil followed. That was the way of things. It included Rescue Scouts and multiple other pursuits. So the boy tried his best to push through the stinging of his own eyes and think like big brother, the Falcon Scout, would. They needed flashlights. The night was chilly, gusts of wind rattling the loose tiles on the old barn. Scott ran out in his sleep tee-shirt. So they would need to pick up his jacket too, on the way out. But first, they needed to placate and possibly bribe Gordie into keeping Allie from crying if he woke up. And they needed to figure out a search grid for big brother. Letting Dad in on the commotion wasn't an option.]

***

["Mom, I can't! I try and I try, and I try, but I can't! Nothing I say or do makes it right! I'm not enough! Mom, please! I canticanticanticant! I can't do this, Mom! Mom! Come back! I can't!!!!!"]

***

[A child's crying could be heard all across the quiet house. He didn't heed at first, habitually. Scott would deal with it. And on the rarest occasion that he couldn't - one of his elder boys would step up and sort little Alan out. He focused back on Hiram's muttering and the red dots flashing in different points of TV-21 the projection. The weak spots that led to the fiasco. The weeping didn't stop and eventually gave way to a high pitched wail. Jeff winced. He really didn't have time for that! He'd have to have sterner words with Scott. His ONE job was looking after his brothers. There was nothing more important than the project they launched with a young Dr. Hackenbecker. And it blew up in Jeff's face, quite literally so.

He stood up to his full hight. Hiram paused mid-rant with a polite smile. Jeff gave him a nod and jogged up the stairs, already exasperated. The hallway was dark - no light in any of the bedrooms.

The Tinies' room greeted him with a sight of Gordon clutching an inconsolable Alan in a squid hug, trying to muffle the sobs. Little Allie had dissolved into hiccups, vaguely resembling a call for ['Coddeeeeeh!!!!!]. Gordon's eyes blew up in panic as he saw Dad towering in the doorway.

Jeff took a long stride and plucked the crying child from his brother's death grip, then turned on his heel and marched down the hallway to the nearest room, shared by Virgil and John. The door flung open into the empty dark silence. The boys were not there. Jeff was fuming by then. Of course they'd use the opportunity of Dad being busy and sneak in with big brother to chat away all night. Or game. Or watch a movie. Or whatever it was teenage boys were not supposed to do when a parent was BUSY. Gordon was hot on his heels when he yanked the door to his eldest's open, clearly even more afraid of staying behind than he was of Dad's ire. Allie, who had quietened a bit in Dad's arms, screeched anew. Scott's room too was empty. Meticulously made bed had been untouched since morning. Three of his sons were gone.]

TBC

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 10

⚠️ Trigger Warning for angst

This could have probably been an earlier chapter, but hey, better late than never! Alan and Gordon arrive home post-TB4-mission.

❤️💛 🚀

Alan let the warmth of the shower seep into his bones. He was sure his squid brother was secretly cold-blooded. Stepping into a shower after Gordon, was akin to performing the ice bucket challenge - the water barely more tepid than the sea itself. Alan, was the polar opposite - disassociating in the molten mist until he'd generated his very own steam room.

The teen grabbed a towel and headed for the lockers.

"Gordon, what the hell?"

He slammed the locker door shut.

Asshole had taken his spare clothes.

He searched through the other lockers. John's was empty, Virgil's; locked. He opened Scott's and pulled out a finely pressed shirt and jeans. 

Gordon had better hope that Four had no further call outs today or he'd drown the fish himself.

The designer jeans were far too long in the leg. He had to fold the ends up twice to avoid tripping on the excess material as he waddled. The shirt was equally ridiculous. He looked like a child trying on their father's work clothes. It wasn't too far from the truth. But he was nineteen, not nine. And he loathed anything that could be used as ammunition by his brothers to remind him that yes... he was the baby of the family - he got it, alright?

He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of Scott's jeans, desperate to protect himself from further embarrassment and shuffled his way back to his room. Brothers sucked ass.

*.  *.  *.

The astronaut's mood subsided a little on seeing that Grandma had been and spruced his room in his absence. His favourite green guitar top had been washed, ironed and laid out on the end of his bed.

Scooping up the casual wear; he buried his face into the soft fabric and inhaled its floral scent. Grandma was one of the few members who actually bothered to remember to add the softener to washes. He was so used to the Birds, bedrooms and gym smelling like...well, a gym; that it was a secret pleasure to enjoy the floral scent of cleanliness. Alan decided that it was the little things in life that brought the greatest pleasure.

He headed to his closet to grab his go-to shorts; pulling the tee over his head as he walked.

"FUCK!"

The floor beneath him shifted. 

His room, the villa, maybe even the island shaking with a ferocity usually reserved to a Two Bird callout.

Alan was flung to the floor. He groaned. Where was his super-plush rug to cushion his fall-

His world suddenly tipped.

Blindly reaching out; somewhat encumbered in his half-dressed state, Alan managed to grasp the doorframe to his closet. 

"GUYS! HELP!"

It sounded like a volcanic eruption...

His room roared like fracturing rock.

Steel screamed and splintered above him.

"Agh!" The sound was deafening, but he didn't dare let go.

Alan's thoughts were racing faster than Fireflash.

John. John would not have missed an impending  eruption?

...Other than that one time with Professor Quentin Questa at Hrómundartinhurmindur. 

No, this was nothing like a volcano. So what then?

His mind flitted through other possibilities. .

Earthquake? Landslide?

His room stopped shaking with one last feeble quiver.

Alan dared to pull his head through his top with a singular hand - the other still firmly glued to the doorframe.

The teen blinked; not trusting his eyes with the reality they presented him with. 

One of his bedroom walls...

His floor length windows...

They were just... gone.

A wall of silver filled the space.

[blinktwicebaby]

Whumptober

Day 21- tattoo gun

Fandom: thunderbirds

Also posted on ao3 here

Virgil’s fingers rested on Alan’s shoulder and his thumb stuck out, his whole hand resting under his pen drawing in an ‘L’.

“This is a really bad idea” he sighed to himself, his other hand holding the tattoo gun to attention.

“Just do it” Alan muttered tiredly, “if Dad sees it I’ll tell him that someone else did it.”

Virgil knew that a plan like that would fail the moment their Dad saw the details in the drawing. He’d paid for Virgil to go to art school since the age of 5 and would see through a lie like that instantly. He knew Virgil’s art. He’d pick his painting out of dozens of others without a second thought and be correct every time, and even though this one was more jagged and on someone’s skin, he’d know.

He might have told Alan as much, but then he might actually convince him not to go through with it. He knew how much Alan needed it, so he kept quiet.

Alan’s shoulder was small, which wasn’t strange considering he was only 16 years old. Despite the fact, he was still surprised by how big the area he was marking actually was.

With a thirteen year age gap, he’d spent most of his time with Alan acting as a secondary caregiver, and even then his responsibilities weren’t sought often when Alan was very young. Their mother was the type of person who loved every one of her children and wanted to be with all of them at every second. She loved raising her sons, and with the addition of Alan her attitude didn’t change. She made time for every single one of them and expected nothing in return, even with a newborn in tow. There was never any jealousy or a fight for her attention.

Of course, after she died the rest of the family had to step up to some extent. They all pitched in with Alan, but he was 6 years old when she died. He didn’t need the intimacies demanded by a very young child and acted mostly independently. He never asked for help with anything, and for the most part they could brush him off without incident.

There were those few times when they told him to go away, often when they were playing video games. Virgil was guilty of pointing him out of the room during a heated digital race with John, and when John’s car nudged his he threw the controller at the wall and rounded on Alan. It was entirely unfair, and far too unhinged, but it worked to get rid of the minor annoyance. He’d been 19 when he did that, and now that he thought about it he realised that it had been the last time Alan ever asked to play a video game with him.

Virgil always thought his youngest brother just preferred single player games, that he was introverted and liked being alone. Slowly tracing a needle along the line he’d drawn on Alan’s shoulder, he knew that it wasn’t the truth.

Alan’s later childhood and pre-teen life had been lonely too. He was usually confined to the island, cracking jokes on his school’s live feed wherever he could. He had friends, and he even got to see them sometimes. Back then, Virgil knew that his brother passed as ‘cool’ in his own way, back at a time when those arbitrary things actually mattered. He never noticed when Alan hit a growth spurt except on a few occasions when he went away for a long time and came back. Without his knowledge or permission, Alan became broader. Taller. Older.

Without his help, Alan had found his own way through life. He’d grown in every way and among other things found the world of fitness. He had the awkward mini-muscles that some teenagers managed to shake just before they became adults, where his arms ballooned from his workouts but the rest of his body hadn’t managed to catch up yet. His back was broad and looked good, which was part of the reason why Virgil had agreed to do it in the first place. When had Alan gotten THIS big? Not just his muscles, but his height, his maturity, his rebellion?

“Does it hurt?” Virgil asked, his tattoo gun tracing the blue pen line slowly, stabbing through to the dermal layer just above the lymphatic one. He wiped the excess ink away, beads of blood coming away with it.

“A little bit” Alan muttered clearly.

He didn’t have any tattoos of his own. As far as he knew, Alan was the first one in their family lineage to get one. It wasn’t that they were against the idea of tattoos, but something so permenant just couldn’t be trusted. It was a deep belief in their family that nothing was permenant, and weren’t the accidents they attended proof of that? Wasn’t the initial cataclysm that lead to International rescue’s procession the reinforcement they needed to prove the fact?

It defied everything they stood for. Alan would keep aging. He’d change completely in 5, 10, 20 years, but the tattoo would still be there. Even if he lived 100 more years (which was scarily possible,) the tattoo would still be there even if the house, international rescue and everyone else within it wasn’t.

Virgil gently stretched Alan’s skin and went over a black line again. He’d only spent a month practising tattoo work, and never on someone’s real skin. It had been a mere art project, a morbid piece that was on display for the next 12 weeks at a museum’s function. The theme was ‘something new’, and Virgil had gone straight for the modern state of the streets, the new age of poverty. The irony of course was in how expensive the piece had been and how art in itself contributed to suburban decline, but the directors seemed happy with the tatted up faux skin stretched around a trash can and hey, art was subjective.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun had turned into white noise in that month. No one noticed it after a few days, and no one noticed it now even though his project was long finished. Alan hadn’t been worried about anyone noticing him. It was a bit sad, actually- the expectation that he flew so far under the radar that no one noticed him even when he was doing something wrong (and at his age, this was very wrong.)

His lines were beautiful and clean, the thin outline traced exactly as he’d intended it. There wasn’t any blue pen showing through, and there was no need to go over any part of it again.

He dipped the tattoo gun in and out of some water then wiped it down. He moved it over to the cleanser and dipped it again. He saw Alan’s head bent forward, his hair falling into his eyes. He could only just see his lips pressed together in a natural pout, closer to a frown than a smile. His hands were resting almost shyly in his lap.

He undid the gun’s screw and let the needle fall out. He ripped open the packet he had next to him and sized up the colour needle. 6 tiny points poking from the end of it.

He dropped it into place in the tattoo gun and hooked it onto the vibration rotary. He rescrewed it in place, thinking vaguely of the newer models he could have bought. He’d gone for the more traditional method for his project because it injected old and new together, which seemed more symbolic, even though it didn’t make a difference to how the art piece looked. Newer tattoo guns could be switched out much easier with a push of a button and a twist of the handle, all of the needles enclosed safely in a translucent holder. Maybe they even hurt less.

He dipped the end of his 6 needles into the red ink a few times. This had been his favourite part in his project, a cathartic version of an adult colouring book where every colour came together in ways pencils and paints couldn’t. Of course, it was going to be different when he was putting it on something that could move, but he felt sure that the feeling was going to be the same.

“Ready?” He asked again, holding the tip of the gun over Alan’s shoulder.

“M’hm” he replied non-commitally.

Virgil’s heart panged in sympathy and he depressed the foot pedal. When had Alan become so apathetic? The vibration buzzed like a hornet and he placed the needles in the centre of the tattoo outline.

Alan flinched and made a noise through his teeth, the needle tips sliding downward and tapering the colour off in an ugly tiny streak. Virgil took his foot off the pedal and hovered his gun.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Hurts more than the outline” Alan explained.

When had his voice gotten deeper? Virgil went back in with the red in the same spot and moved it steadily across his youngest brother’s skin. He could feel Alan’s muscles rippling under his fingers, tensing as he tried not to move again.

His teeth grit together, the corners of his lips twitching up and down as he grimaced. His breathing felt deliberate, slow, even.

“Apparently white hurts the most” Virgil said conversationally, “but red comes second. Most of the the forums I read said that.”

“It’s fine.”

Alan’s head swivelled on his neck at random as he thought. He’d been sitting for over an hour already, and Virgil couldn’t help but notice the tiny movements of his hair shifting and stopping. He could see that Alan’s eyes were open now, though his irises were only half visible between his lids. Whatever he was thinking, Virgil knew that it was grim, and considering the tattoo he’d asked for it was only appropriate.

It seemed wrong to think any happy thoughts. It was a collective misery reserved only for the pair of them, and once Virgil’s work was done he’d be excluded from the misery too, allowed to think of good things again. Alan wouldn’t be though, and Virgil found himself reconsidering the tattoo again. Every time he saught it out, he’d be reminded. Every time someone else pointed it out to him, he’d remember what happened.

Virgil couldn’t help but smirk. How stupid to reconsider now when it was already permenant on his skin. He could have found a laser and forced Alan under it a few times until it faded away for good, but that would lead to problems of its own.

“Reds done” Virgil said some time later. Then again, “you okay?”

Alan rolled his shoulder and grunted.

“Feeling a little woozy.”

Virgil put the gun down and retrieved a can of coke from the nearby mini fridge, the one used exclusively for drinks. He cracked the can and passed it to Alan, who took it and downed half of it in one go.

Virgil dumped the red ink in the bin by his foot, changed his gloves and replaced the needle with a fresh one, he dipped it into the purple and relaxed it in his hand on the table, waiting for Alan to give the go ahead.

Alan held the can in both hands in his lap and shifted back into position, his shoulder turned slightly in a way that it had been in for so long that the usually uncomfortable position was now comfortable.

“Okay” he said.

Virgil placed his free hand against Alan’s shoulder and parted the skin gently. He placed the needles against a part of the tattoo where Alan’s natural skin was still showing through and depressed his foot on the pedal. The buzz sounded and he pressed the tips in, injecting purple ink close to the red.

He could feel Alan’s breathing and was trying to stay in rhythm with it, but his inhales had become long, his exhales short.

Virgil watched Alan’s profile and found him blinking rapidly, like he was holding back tears. It would also explain the heavy breathing.

But then he dropped the can on the ground, spilling brown liquid onto the hardwood floor. Virgil had a second to prop his gun back onto the table and catch Alan as he listed forward. He lowered him down and slipped the cushion from the seat under his head. He dumped paper towels onto the coke in the spots closest to Alan and kneeled beside him. His fingers were gently tapping the side of Alan’s head beside his eyes. Relief flooded him when Alan turned his head slightly to look at them and he stopped tapping.

“We can leave it for now” Virgil said, placing a hand gently on his back underneath the tattoo and reaching to his table with the other. He grabbed his ethanol bottle and squeezed it over the tattoo, sufficiently wetting it. He grabbed a fresh paper towel and wiped the wetness away in one smooth motion, convinced for a moment that the whole thing would wipe away.

“I want it done” Alan murmured. He readjusted himself into a more comfortable position down there on the floor, his shoulder pointed towards Virgil. Some of the ethanol dripped down his chest and settled in his pecs, but it didn’t seem to bother him. The spilled coke didn’t bother him as it seeped into one of his track pant’s legs around the knee. His eyes were fully open, staring straight ahead in determination.

Virgil sighed and tested a few positions down there on the floor that might work. His art project had been done entirely on a table and this was new territory for him. He was tempted once again to put his foot down, to yell Alan out of the room and be unfair and unhinged, but he couldn’t do that to him now. What relationship did they really have with each other? Virgil felt naive, thinking that the experience was bringing them closer together. The secrecy, the effort, the result. All of it had to mean something.

He settled for sitting with one of his legs over Alan’s body, the other curled and pressed against his back. He brought the gun down and put the foot pedal under the foot over Alan’s midsection, the gun once again hovering over his art. It was a bit awkward to push the pedal, but once his foot was on it, it was just as hard to take it off again.

He leaned down and rested his free arm at the edge of Alan’s side and held his shoulder like another sketchbook. He pressed the purple ink back onto Alan’s skin and worked on his piece, stealing periodic glances at Alan’s face to make sure he was still awake.

He was so lost in what he was doing and so focused on making sure Alan was still blinking that he didn’t even notice the studio door open and close again.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked somewhat petulantly. He scaled down the few steps with ease and rounded the table to find Virgil straddling Alan with one leg and pressing a buzzing tattoo gun to his shoulder.

“VIRGIL, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?” He demanded, suddenly more urgent.

Virgil lifted the gun and awkwardly took his foot off the pedal. He slipped the gun onto the table and stood up, Alan on the ground between his legs peering up at their superior around him.

“I asked him to!” Alan said angrily. He propped himself up onto one arm to give their commander a nasty look. Virgil stepped off him to the side closer to his equipment and decided that they could hash this out themselves while he tidied up the coke properly.

Alan got to his own feet and wavered, his head still spinning. He grabbed absently for Virgil and found his tee shirt, his fingers holding it in a deathgrip. Virgil rounded and slipped his arm around Alan’s waist. The younger held his brow in the hand not grabbing onto Virgil for dear life and shook the fatigue away. Virgil looked between Alan and Scott, the older standing with his arms crossed and ready to berate them.

“That better not be real” Scott muttered. He went over to Alan and twisted his shoulder upward. Alan grunted, then screamed when Scott rubbed the coloured section.

“Dads not going to be happy.”

Alan shoved Scott away visciously, his teeth bared. He balled his fists and stepped at Scott, his hands coming up to hit the older brother.

“You asshole” he said, beating Scott on the chest with both hands, “you self serving ASSHOLE! If you tell Dad I will never speak to you again.”

Virgil’s heart leapt uncomfortably because he believed it.

Scott scoffed, staring at Alan like he’d never seen him before.

“Why would you do something so stupid, Alan. And YOU-” He said, towering over Virgil, “Him I could see doing this… but you helping him do it!? How could you be so idiotic?”

“It’s his body, it’s his choice” Virgil said simply, unsurely.

“He’s 16!”

“He needs it” Virgil said more confidently, “he asked me and I’m doing it. It’s almost done anyway, and we can’t undo it.”

Scott planted his face in his hands and dragged them down, peering at his idiot brothers over his fingers. He shook his head.

“I’m telling Dad” he muttered. He turned around and made his way back to the door.

Something snapped in Alan. He ran forward and pushed Scott violently that he almost went down.

“JUST LET ME HAVE THIS ONE. THING.” he yelled, and this time there was no mistaking that he was crying.

Scott turned gravely, eyes under angry brows watching Alan. Unreasonable little Alan who was always going to be the little brother, the baby, the least adult, incapable of making his own decisions because he didn’t know what was good for him yet. He was only 16.

Scott’s memories of being 16 were similar to those of being 30. Being the oldest, he’d aged without the knowledge of anyone but his parents. To his brothers he’d always been ‘the oldest’, and he always would be. He knew what was best because he’d already been their age and made their mistakes. He had foresight that they simply didn’t, and he knew the secret formula that would make everything alright in the end. Sure, telling Dad seemed like an asshole move right now, but they’d see in time that it was the right thing to do.

He closed his eyes and turned away from Alan, making his way out the door. He left it open and Alan slammed it after him with such ferocity that it shook the doorframe. Shaking and angry, he lay back down on the floor in his comfy position, his leg a little bit more forward since the coke puddle was gone. Virgil hesitantly draped the pedal’s line over Alan’s midsection and got back into his own position, his foot joining the pedal draped over Alan’s quivering body. He leaned in and put the tattoo gun in position, the top of it now a bright white on only 3 needles. The section he was about to do needed to be vibrant.

He continued filling in Alan’s tattoo for hours, checking in on him between each colour change. He kept him updated on the process, receiving an affirming noise each time. After 8 hours since they’d started, he let Alan know that the last blue was on a wide set of 8 spaced shading needles.

He touched the shade to his littlest brother’s skin and received a loud grunt as a result. He’d been waiting for their Dad to burst in the whole time, and that was the moment when he finally did.

Jeff opened the door calmly and tred down the stairs. Virgil gave him an acknowledging glance and brushed the buzzing gun up in careful streaks along Alan’s skin. Alan’s head didn’t move at all and Virgil couldn’t help but notice that his muscles were tense again, the way they had been when he’d started putting red.

“Let me see” Jeff said, crouching beside Virgil. His tone was unreadable, bordering on either understanding or fury. Alan’s chin twitched further into the cushion, scared to look up at his Dad. Jeff sighed and stood up, towering over them with his arms crossed. Virgil only had a few lines to finish, so he kept going. They could all see there was no point in stopping.

Jeff retreated to the far wall and watched them. Virgil went slowly, trying to delay the inevitable.

When his details were finished, he propped the gun silently on the table and reached over Alan to grab the pedal. He stole glances at Jeff, but his expression was still unreadable. He put the pedal next to the gun and tapped Alan on the arm.

“Come on buddy, it’s finished.”

Alan sat up dazedly, still scared to look in Jeff’s direction. He looked up at Virgil for guidance, but the only guidance he could give was the aftercare advice he’d found online.

He sprayed more ethanol down the fresh tattoo and wiped it away in one last smooth motion.

“Have a look, then I’ll put some tattoo balm on it and wrap it up.” He gestured towards the mirror next to the fridge and Alan got up with a waver to walk tentatively over to it.

The details were exquisite. The snowy mountain looked like it would be cold to the touch, if not for the detail of a red and purple heart somewhere at base of it. That part didn’t have to look real because in Alan’s mind it wasn’t. How could it be when his mom had died there, when he had almost died there?

Jeff appeared beside him and looked at the tattoos reflection. Alan’s eyes watered while he took in what he was seeing, his Dad’s presence less imposing than it had been minutes before. Jeff put his arm around Alan, squeezed his opposite shoulder affectionately, and kissed his head next to his eye. He gave one last affirming squeeze before walking back towards the door.

“Looks good” he said when he passed Virgil.

Virgil watched him go then got back to clearing away his things, his breath escaping him without the realisation that he’d been holding it.

When Alan came back to the table Virgil dabbed a thick layer of tattoo balm over his work and pressed cling wrap tight against his skin. He taped the border with medical tape in the hopes it would hold for a few hours.

“Have a shower in 2 hours but don’t use soap on it. Put this balm on it starting from tomorrow afternoon and use it sparingly. Apply once or twice a day for two weeks. I can do touch ups after that. You got it?”

“Yeah. Thank you Virgil” he said.

Virgil had expected a bigger scene, perhaps a big hug with dramatic declarations that everything would be different from now on, that he was so grateful to him for the thing he’d done. At the very least, he thought that the chasm caused by their age gap was bridged and they’d be closer in someway. Spiritually, mentally, evidence of SOME new feeling of endearment.

Instead he just watched his littlest brother put his shirt back on and jump up the stairs, probably to go to his room.

[brandstifter-sys]

Vamp Remus x human Virgil because Thomas confirmed Remus sleeps in a coffin in a tweet

Virgil was unhealthily obsessed with vampires (not to a weird annoying extent ofc but he loved them) then he met a weird vampire and was fascinated lol. That vampire was Remus. The vampire was weird asf but Virgil didn’t mind as first. Virgil was excited to have a vampire friend

But the vampire was already head over heels in love lol. He gave off the human hints of his affection but the human never gave in or noticed.

Virgil=21 year old college student

Remus= been alive since 18th century

Roman is in this au but it’s logince lol. He and Virgil are besties.

Remus lives in a castle with Roman. Their parents abandoned them when Roman and Remus were teens and left for a better life. (Roman is bitter about it but Remus doesn’t care)

The twins are close but Remus annoys Roman and Roman wants Remus to be more empathetic and more humane.

Roman is number dukexiety shipper cuz he’s never seen his brother like this before lol.

This is where I'd insert a joke about emo kids being mistaken for vampires if I had one

You know Remus would immediately latch onto this weird human gremlin. Unfortunately for him, courting in the 18th century is very different from modern dating, so of course Virgil doesn't catch on at first

And of course Remus would be just as oblivious if Virgil had the guts to flirt with him. The pure frustration building between the pair would drive Roman absolutely insane. How can his OTP be so dense?? This is why he's single. im gonna go ahead and willingly ignore that part of the ask before the ick hits

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

The Spies Who Raised Us (pt 1/5)

[•], Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Word count: 2,774

Rating: teen

Pairings: Roceit, familial DLAMP

Warnings: teenage angst, mentioned bullying

~~~START~~~

“Good morning, my darlings!” Janus breezed into the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower, but otherwise ready for work.

“And what a wonderful morning it is!” Roman agreed, grabbing his husband around the waist and twirling him through the kitchen, careful not to ruffle his suit too much on the way.

“Hi dad!” Patton, Janus and Roman’s youngest, turned his attention away from his cartoons to happily accept a hug and a kiss from his dad.

Virgil was not as receptive to Janus’s affection, and after a grunt of acknowledgment, squirmed out of the hug before Janus could kiss him.

“Good morning, dad,” Logan said tonelessly as he pointedly did not look up from the math book he had open in front of him.

“Is that due today?” Janus asked, trying not to sound too judgemental or too much like he was snooping as he sat down in front of the omelet Roman had placed at the kitchen table for him.

Logan actually scoffed at that. “Of course not. This is the unit we are covering tomorrow; I am simply getting a head start.”

“That’s my little bookworm!” Roman said, affectionately mussing Logan’s hair. The fourteen year old actually pried his eyes away from the textbook in order to properly level his papa with a death glare before returning to his studies with twice the ferocity as before.

Roman deflated a little at the treatment.

Logan had entered his angsty teenage phase a little over a year ago, and Virgil, though only twelve, was following close behind. Patton, at least, was nine and still bubbly and affectionate.

“What’s the unit about?” Janus persisted in conversation.

“You wouldn’t understand it,” Logan rolled his eyes. Lately, he seemed to be of the opinion that because he had skipped a grade and was two years ahead in math besides, it meant that he was better than everyone else. Or at least that he was better than his dads; Janus had overheard him patiently explaining the difference between ratios and fractions to Virgil the other day, so at the very least he knew his son wasn’t snubbing his brothers.

“Try me,” Janus pushed. “There’s a lot of math in accounting.”

“We’re going to be late to school,” Logan said instead.

“Right then!” Roman jumped up exuberantly. “Grab your bags, grab your jackets, grab your lunches!”

All three boys sprang into action to grab their things for school, though some were probably more eager to get away from their dads than to actually go to school. After one final check to make sure each of the boys’ uniforms were in order, all five of them piled into the family sedan and were off.

Logan had firmly put his foot down about Janus and Roman exiting the car to hug them all goodbye months ago, so Janus had to settle for watching his boys go from the passenger window. Logan strode straight from the car into the school without an ounce of hesitation; Virgil followed after him, a little slower and a little more hesitant; Patton turned around to wave goodbye to his dads before jogging a little to catch up to Virgil. A little of Janus’s unease was lifted as Virgil allowed Patton to take his hand.

“They’re going to be fine,” Roman assured him as the boys disappeared into the building.

“I know.” Maybe that would have been more reassuring if the two of them didn’t alternate days saying it.

Roman merged back into traffic, heading in the direction of their office building.

Janus was an “accountant” in the same building Roman was a “custodian” for, and the two of them carpooled to work every day. They walked from their car to the elevators hand in hand, but Roman pressed the down button while Janus pressed the up one.

“What’s your schedule for the day?” Janus asked as they waited for their respective elevators.

“Some new recruits to break in at eight, lunch at twelve-thirty, then drop-in appointments for seasoned vets until five — I’ll get a ride home from Remy, so you and the kids won’t need to worry about me. You?”

“Same old, same old,” Janus sighed. “I’m partnered with Emile this week, so it won’t be so bad.”

Roman frowned, but didn’t speak until two sets of elevator doors opened at once. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to go back into the field, y’know.”

Janus kissed his husband one last time before heading towards his awaiting elevator. “I know, but we both retired from the field for a reason, and even if two of our boys think we’re the lamest parents in the world, I’d rather be the lame parent who’s around than the cool parent who’s gone.”

“I love you,” Roman said, stepping into his elevator.

“I love you too, dear.”

Then the elevator doors closed.

“Initiating identification scan,” a computerized voice announced as laser grids began scanning up and down Janus’s elevator. This was followed by a renal scan, and a saliva sample. “Janus Sanders recognized. Welcome, Agent Sanders.”

The doors opened into an office space that looked more like a police precinct than an accounting office. Desks were arranged in an open concept room with two per island, a free standing bulletin board next to every pair. On the bulletin boards were complex webs of string connecting different pictures and documents. The chatter of the office created a small wall of constant droning.

Janus walked through the somewhat chaotic space with practiced ease. As much as he complained about his job to Roman, he was in his element here just as much as he was at a dinner party in France, or a bullet train in Japan.

“Good morning, Emile,” Janus said as he sat at his desk and logged into his computer. “What are we looking at today?”

“Morning, Jan, do you how do?” Emile smiled from where he was already typing away at his own computer. “Looks like Cowell is going to be a Danish pilot.”

“Naturally,” Janus replied, looking through the brief he and Emile had been sent.

“I’ve already started on his professional history if you want to get on his personal details.”

“Do I ever,” Janus sighed. “I’m thinking he’s the oldest of four.”

Forging aliases for other spies wasn’t as glamorous as being the spy receiving the aliases, but both Janus and Roman had agreed after they’d gotten married and started a family that the possibility of dying in the field wasn’t worth the excitement anymore. Hence the office job: sitting at a boring desk, working with boring people — Emile excluded — creating boring papers, so that everyone living the life of excitement is less likely to die in the field.

Janus’s mood had improved by lunch — Emile was a breath of fresh air compared to most of the forgery staff — but even if it hadn’t, there was nothing better than seeing his husband, scoop-neck tank top, skin glistening with sweat, waiting for him at their usual table in the cafeteria.

“Ah, mi amor!” Roman cried, jumping dramatically to his feet. “How I’ve missed you!”

“You saw me this morning,” Janus rolled his eyes, but he didn’t fight the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “How were the greenhorns?”

“Their form is improving, but I could still whip each and every one of their asses blindfolded!”

“I’ve no doubt,” Janus smiled.

Towards the end of lunch, Janus’s phone began to ring. Janus pulled the phone out of his pocket, concern coloring his face as he read the caller ID.

“Hmm?” Roman asked around a mouthful of cookies.

“It’s the boys’ school,” Janus explained. “Hello?”

“Hello,” a pleasant woman’s voice came over the phone's tinny speakers. “Is this the parent or guardian of Logan Sanders-Kingsley?”

“It is. What seems to be the problem?” Janus asked, bracing himself for whatever this woman was going to tell him. Roman made an inquisitive face, but Janus held a finger up to signal that he didn’t know yet.

“When you come to pick up Logan today Principal Higgins would like to have a word with you — it’s about Logan’s academic dishonesty.”

Janus’s eyes narrowed. “What academic dishonesty?”

“You didn’t know? We sent Logan home last week with a note.”

“One moment, please,” Janus said, covering the speaker with his hand to whisper to Roman “did we get a note from the school about Logan last week?”

“No. Is he in trouble?”

“Something about academic dishonesty, I’ll ask. What exactly did Logan do?” Janus asked into the phone once more.

“You can discuss that with the principal later. While you’re here, we might need to discuss your son, Virgil, as well.”

“What about Virgil?” Janus demanded.

“We’ll see you later, Mr. Sanders-Kingsley.” The woman said before hanging up.

“Unhelpful,” Janus growled, slamming his phone onto the table.

“What about Virgil!?” Roman asked, sounding just as panicked as Janus felt.

“They wouldn’t tell me! They just said ‘we’ll talk about it when you pick up the kids’.” Janus said petulantly.

“Do you want me to come? I can get out early if you need me to.”

“No,” Janus sighed. They had an arrangement: Roman got the kids ready in the morning and Janus picked them up from school, which almost always meant Janus would go talk to the boys’ teachers when they were in trouble. This was for the best because Roman had a tendency to get overly passionate when he thought someone was attacking any of his sons. “You’re needed here, I can handle it.”

“You’re needed here, too,” Roman pointed out.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Yes, but if I leave early then really the only consequence is that ‘Espen Bakker’s’ parents didn’t send him to summer camp as a child.”

“Poor Espen,” Roman sighed playfully.

“I guess he was forced to just sit inside all day and build model planes, no wonder he wanted to become a pilot.”

~~~

Janus clocked out of work a little earlier than usual, as a result, he got to the boys’ school before the end of day bell rang. He sat in the car for a minute to steady himself, but ultimately he decided to head to the office before the hallways filled with kids.

Virgil and Logan were both sitting on a bench in the office when Janus entered. Virgil was hunched over in his chair — trying to make himself as small as possible — while Logan was sitting straight and proud, eyes focused on the wall ahead of him.

“Boys,” Janus greeted curtly.

“Dad,” Logan said back while Virgil shrank even more.

“Mr. Sanders-Kingsley!” A short woman whose voice Janus recognized from the earlier phone call exclaimed. “Principal Higgins’s office is right through there.” She gestured to a closed door part way down a hall behind her as though Janus had never been here before.

“Thank you,” Janus said, shooting his boys one last glance before heading for the door. Logan met his gaze steadily, Virgil very much did not.

Janus knocked on the closed door, and a second later a stern looking woman with short graying hair answered it.

“Mr. Sanders,” she said, politely but not overly warmly. Janus had been called into the principal’s office a handful of times over the years, enough for the principal to know he didn’t go by ‘Sanders-Kingsley’. “Please come in. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Janus took a seat across from her desk. “If you don’t mind, I know I was called in for Logan’s ‘academic dishonesty’, and while I’m not quite sure what that means, I wasn’t told why I was called for Virgil.”

Principal Higgins sighed and sat back in her own chair. “There’s no easy way to say this,” she said — taking her sweet time, Janus thought bitterly. “Virgil’s been bullying fifth graders.”

Janus’s brain short circuited a little at that. Virgil was a sweet kid, and even if he was being a little standoffish at home, he was still one of the least confrontational people Janus knew. Why would he be bullying kids two years younger than him?

“That doesn’t sound like Virgil,” Janus finally said.

“I know these kinds of things can be hard to process,” Ms. Higgins said, shooting Janus a sympathetic look. “But we have eyewitness reports — and not just from his victims, but from other students and even a teacher. Virgil was seen to be shoving fifth graders and calling them names.”

“Why?”

“Mr. Sanders, we don’t believe that there’s any excuse for bullying at this school,” Ms. Higgins said sternly, her expression radiating disapproval that — were he not a former international spy — would probably have Janus feeling undeservingly contrite.

“So you didn’t ask him why he was bullying ten-year-olds.”

“No, Mr. Sanders, I did not. We have a zero tolerance policy for bullying here; I’m afraid that Virgil’s been suspended for two days, and I expect that, as his father, you will be extending his punishment at home.”

“Of course,” Janus agreed. He agreed that if Virgil was bullying younger kids just to bully them he should be punished, but bullying just didn’t seem like Virgil, and Janus was going to get to the bottom of it before he issued any punishments. “And now, Logan’s academic dishonesty? Has he been cheating?”

Cheating, similarly, didn't sound like Logan. Logan had all the brains either of his dads had and then some, he didn’t need to cheat.

“In short,” Higgins replied. “Yes, but not for himself. We sent home a note last week because Logan was suspected of selling essays to his classmates for them to turn in; today, Logan was caught selling answers to an upcoming chemistry test, and while we have no hard evidence that he’s done this before, we strongly believe he has.”

“How so?”

“There’s been an uptick in test performance this academic year for several of our… lower students — academically speaking — including the two boys he was caught selling answers to. I’ll admit we can’t prove that he’s been selling answers all year, he’s still being suspended for selling the chemistry test answers.”

“For how long?” Janus sighed, he could feel a migraine starting to set in.

“The rest of the week. Mr. Sanders, this is very serious, if neither of your boys show any improvement or remorse after their suspensions then the next steps will involve possible expulsion.”

“I understand, Ms. Higgins, and rest assured that my husband and I will get to the root of his behavior and cut it off before it grows into a pattern.” Janus stood up and shook the principal’s hand.

“See that you do, Mr. Sanders,” Ms. Higgins sighed. “Your boys are very bright, I would hate for them to throw away their futures like this.”

The final bell had rung while Janus was in his meeting, and when he emerged from the principal’s office, Patton had joined his brothers on the bench.

“Hi dad!” Patton said, jumping up to hug Janus.

Janus hugged him back before turning to his older sons. “Do either of you have anything to say?”

Virgil shook his head.

“No,” Logan said.

“Fine,” Janus sighed. “Let’s go.”

Patton held Janus’s hand as Janus led the way to the car, Logan and Virgil following silently behind. Patton filled the walk with chatter about his day, but Janus was finding it hard to concentrate.

Janus didn’t start the car when they all got in, and the silence stretched out.

“Anything to say now?” Janus finally asked, looking first to Logan in the passenger seat, and then back to Virgil. Neither of them replied. “Fine then, give me your phones, we’ll discuss more in depth punishments when your father gets home.”

Virgil handed his phone over quickly and wordlessly, but Logan protested.

“That’s not fair!”

“How?” Janus demanded, raising his voice. “How is this not fair? You were cheating, Logan, what were you expecting?”

“I was not cheating, I’m not even taking chemistry.”

“Cheating that doesn’t benefit your own grades is still cheating! You broke the rules, you were caught, and now you’re suffering the consequences! Give me your phone!”

Logan huffed, but handed his phone over.

“Do you want my phone, too?” Patton asked, offering his phone forward.

“No, Pat,” Janus sighed. “You keep yours, I didn’t get called into the principal’s office for you.”

“Okay.”

“Dad?” Virgil said hesitantly.

“We’ll talk when your father gets home,” Janus sighed, feeling the full weight of parenthood hit him like a ton of bricks.

Virgil nodded mutely.

Janus finally started the car and pulled out of the school parking lot.

Being a spy was easy, it was raising kids that was the real challenge.

~~~END CHAPTER~~~

Welcome to my Spy Kids AU :D (you don’t need to know anything about Spy Kids, but if you do you’ll have an idea of what’s going to happen next and where Remus is)

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @aeternum-ablaze @misunderstood-shadowling

[analoceits]

janus and patton are the heads of house for the light sides and dark sides respectively, right? cool, hear me out: au where remus and roman took up that role instead.

roman going by king instead of prince, and taking up the "fatherly" role among the light sides instead. being way more.. stable, and respected.

patton coming off way more as a "cool 20 yr old youth pastor" then "cringe but fun dad". somehow even more silly and struggles less with repression.

logan and patton falling into the "fights like brothers" dynamic that roman and logan have in canon.

remus going from "creechur" to "fun chaotic dumbass dad". motivates janus and remus to be a bit more chaotic/villain like. gives logan and patton TERRIBLE advice to piss roman off. takes up janus's arc.

janus being fun teen anti-hero vibes instead of 19th century villain petting cat type. a little more silly, and appears when remus did in canon.

virgil being a bit more fun and fighting with janus like brothers, and getting into some real big spats with remus as dark creativity.

thomas generally being more hopes and dreams/creativity focused than moral focused. remus also being treated more as "terrible creativity besmircher" than "morally bad"

[krayonkiddos]

agere outfits!

im sure it’s obvious but just in case, the order goes patton, roman, logan, virgil, janus, and remus :3

i’ve never made outfit collage things before, so i hope y’all like these!!! i did my best haha

now for ages and headcanons and such under the cut :3

patton:

age range: he usually reaches like,, tiny baby age. i originally thought he’d be a bit on the older kiddo side cos i thought it’d be cute if he was like “i wanna help take care of the others even if im regressed” but nah his brain is like “you’re an infant now, let others help you whether you like it or not” ksjdjfkf

he’s nonverbal when he regresses, aside from the occasional single word sentence (such as “up!” or yes and no, though he usually nods or shakes his head for that)

it actually took him a while to realize he was an age regressor. he was the last of the group to realize their regression (though everyone else had their suspicions lol)

he doesn’t have a specific caregiver, everyone kinda takes turns caregiving, but baby patton is very (hilariously) attached to remus. his nickname for remus is “mouse” because he can’t really say remus or duke. mouse is just easier (roman is a bit jealous of the affection baby patton has for his brother, but he’ll take that to his grave)

roman:

age range: he goes from roughly 5 to 7, a bit younger if he regresses from stress

he started out being a rather proud regressor, not wanting to accept help from anyone. nowadays he’s the opposite, being extremely needy and clingy lol (no one really minds)

if you think he loves disney when he’s big, hoo boy little him is alllll about it lmao. he’s especially into bluey, watching at least one episode every time he regresses (and usually it’s not just one lmao)

big him isn’t really the biggest fan of remus, but when he regresses it’s a different story. he thinks of remus less as an annoying twin brother and more like a cool uncle that lets you do things your parents wouldn’t let you do. he’s embarrassed by this in a non-regressed state, and it doesn’t help that remus teases him endlessly for it lmao

logan:

age range: similar to roman, roughly 5 to 7, but much younger when stressed. he also has a tendency to age up slightly when others regress in his company. like if he’s seven, but patton goes baby mode, suddenly he’s twelve. not fully out of the headspace, but not as young as he’d prefer

surprisingly, he can be a bit of a brat. i mean this with love lmao. when he’s on the younger side, he has to have everything go his way or else. he also doesn’t handle rejection well. the others learned this very early on, and they each have different ways of dealing with it. but little logan’s smart and caught on to that, so when he needs or wants something, he chooses the big side he goes to carefully. little schemer <3

when he’s on the older side (or really when anyone is younger than him, which happens a lot), he becomes very protective. especially of patton, since he’s baby. he’s surprisingly good at knowing what patton needs, and verbalizes it on his behalf

when he’s feeling sad or stressed, he goes immediately to virgil. and if he can’t go to virgil for whatever reason, he goes to virgil’s room and lays on his bed. or, if he can’t go into virgil’s room, sits outside virgil’s door. virgil is his comfort person <3 or- comfort side. whatever kajdjfkf

virgil:

age range: he’s a teen regressor. like, 14 to 16 ish. he gets even more emo when regressed and no one knows how it’s possible skdjfkfkf

he has a paci he rarely uses, and it took a long time for him to become comfortable using it. he only really uses it when he’s particularly stressed (which, i mean, he’s kinda always stressed lol but the paci is basically for emergencies)

he’s an extremely protective older brother to everyone, and is almost like a caregiver even when regressed. on days where everyone’s regressed (as rare as they are), it’s him against the world lmao though he can enlist help from thomas (or remy if thomas is asleep) (remy only shows up in the mindscape when thomas is asleep)

he doesn’t need a caregiver since he’s always old enough to care for himself, but there are days when he goes to janus. he’s always mortified by it when he ages back up, but when he’s in the throes of teenage angst he needs janus’s support more than anything. he’s just grateful that janus doesn’t really bring it up when he ages up

janus:

age range: usually about 3 or 4, and doesn’t really go outside of that

lil dude loves hissing. but not like mean hissing, just excited hissing. he just goes “ssss!” and everyone knows he’s happy. the hissing is usually accompanied by hand flapping. stimmy lil snake <3

loves giving everyone hugs all the time. he just clings and won’t let go. he’s probably given the most hugs to either patton or roman, the latter of whom is basically always caught off guard by it. patton was caught off guard the first few times but has since adjusted (and happily so)

much like how little patton is very attached to remus, janus is extremely attached to roman. initially, roman wasn’t a fan of this, as he wanted as little to do with janus (both big and little) as possible. but once the two of them managed to bury the hatchet (as in, janus actually apologized), roman didn’t mind as much. it took a bit to become fully comfortable, but now roman is quite fond of little janus (and maybe big janus isn’t so bad <3)

remus:

age range: he could be any age, really. he doesn’t have time to figure out how old he is, he has mischief to get up to. he’s usually pretty capable when regressed, so he’s probably older than most of the others. he doesn’t act like it tho lmao

dude loves aliens. wants to be one. also pirates. his aesthetic can be summarized as alien pirates. or pirate aliens? thats actually why janus has an alien stuffie, it makes him think of remus <3

loves messing with the others when they’re also regressed. says things like “you’re now aware of your own breathing” and no one is a fan <3

definitely the most physically active of the regressors. if he’s not running, he’s jumping. and if he’s not jumping, he’s running kajdkfkfkf bro wears everyone out, even fellow regressed sides. the only one who can calm him down fully is janus, but only when janus isn’t also regressed. if janus is regressed he’s joining in on the chaos

thats the end of the post. i love these guys so much <3

[loopstagirl]

Walk in the Park

For @febuwhump day 3: Pinned Down

Jeff paused and took a moment to look around. He smiled. It was a rare weekend where a) he wasn’t called into work, b) none of the boys had activities, c) none of the children were unwell, and d) the sun was shining. As soon as they’d seen the forecast that morning, both he and Lucy had known what they’d do today. 

A picnic in the park, with all five of their boys. 

It had been months since circumstances had let them do something like this. Between an unseasonably wet spring and various clubs, not to mention emergency meetings as Jeff’s fledgling business sprouted wings, there was always something on. 

Now, though... Now, everything was perfect. They’d eaten with minimal squabbles over who got the last sausage roll and which flavour drink they wanted. Alan had started to get tired and Scott had declared he was taking his baby brother for a walk. Ten minutes later, a smug 13-year-old had returned with Alan asleep in the stroller. The toddler wouldn’t sleep for much longer, but it had stopped any meltdowns. 

Virgil had seen some friends from school and run off to the play equipment with them. Thankfully, they’d picked a spot where both parents could see him without having to move. John was sprawled on the blanket, legs swinging in the air as he read, and Scott and Gordon were playing a version of catch the 5-year-old could keep up with. 

Jeff caught Lucy’s eye. She was sitting next to John, leaning back on her palms, keeping an eye on Virgil but with a satisfied smile on her face. It only widened when she looked over at her husband. This was what their family was all about. 

He grabbed a drink from the cooler, intending to sit next to her. All their children were entertaining themselves, which was a wonderful and rare experience. Before he could do so, however, a shout came from the playground. Jeff shielded his eyes with a hand as he looked that way, aware that Lucy had also straightened up. 

He wasn’t sure what was happening to begin with. Perhaps a child had misjudged the monkey bars? There were plenty of parents milling around there. Then there was another shout – and it was a voice he recognised. 

Lucy was already on her feet. 

“Virgil.” 

Jeff took a few steps closer, trying to see what was going on. Then he cursed under his breath, hoping that John didn’t hear him. 

Some older boys, maybe Scott’s age, were trying to take over the playground. They were ignoring the little kids, but focused on the other boys there without their parents: Virgil and his friends. As Jeff watched, one of the older kids shoved a younger one, causing him to stumble into the other teenagers. They didn’t let him regain his balance though, pushing him again. 

Lucy recognised the red tee before Jeff did. She took off, not quite a run, but a fast, angry walk that would get her there quicker than if Jeff sprinted. He took a step, then glanced at his remaining children. Scott was responsible, but he couldn’t leave him with John, Gordon and Alan. Still, he stayed on his feet, a few steps towards the playground, watching. 

“Dad? Where’s Mom-,” Scott trailed off, standing next to him. He too squinted in the direction of the playground, just as Virgil hit the ground. “Virgil!” 

Jeff only had time to grab Scott’s arm as the boy made to hurtle off.  

“Your mom has got this, Scott.” 

“That’s Tommy Higgins and his friends,” Scott snarled. “I warned them if they ever went near my brothers again...” His gaze flickered to John before back to the playground, and Jeff knew there was an untold story there for sure. 

Scott tried to pull out of his dad’s hold and Jeff found himself tightening his grip to hold the boy back.  

“I need you here, Flyboy.” 

“No! I told him! If he dares-,” 

“Your mom is almost there, Scotty. Virgil is okay.” 

Indeed, the boy was getting back up. Lucy was almost at the gate now and Jeff knew the older teens were going to be fools if they tried anything now. 

“Where’s Mama?” Gordon asked, appearing out of nowhere. 

“She’s gone to help your brother.” 

“I can help too!” Gordon looked as if he was all set to go dashing after Lucy. 

“John? A hand, please?” 

John looked up from his book and caught Gordon round the middle, pulling the suddenly-giggling child down to the blanket with him.  

“Scott, calm down.” 

“I’m not calming down! I told him he’d get what was coming to him if he ever went near them again.” 

“Scott!”  

Jeff couldn’t hold him. He wasn’t sure when Scott had suddenly sprouted but his little boy wasn’t so little anymore. In the type of move he hadn’t used since his Air Force days, he hooked his arms under Scott’s shoulders, pulling the boy back into him. Scott struggled, but even his new-found height was no match for this grip. 

“Calm down,” Jeff said in his ear. “I know you’re upset; I know you’re mad. But your mom is handling it. It won’t help Virgil, or any of your brothers, if they see you answer violence with violence.” 

Indeed, Jeff wasn’t entirely sure where this had come from. Scott had always been protective, but it appeared that all the emotions that came with being a young teenager meant he was trying to find a different outlet for those emotions. Jeff loved Scott’s protective nature, but he couldn’t let this continue. 

Scott snarled. One day, that was going to be an impressive sound. But his voice hadn’t yet broken and it didn’t have the depth to it to be truly chilling. Jeff winced as a foot collided with his shin. While he didn’t necessarily remember being 13, he did remember being a teenager and the feeling that the world was out to get him.  

He walked back a few steps, dragging Scott with him so that he was further away from his brothers. Carefully, he shifted their centre of gravity until he could drop to his knees, pulling Scott down with him. Then it was just a case of extending his legs, unhooking his arms and wrapping his son in a bear hug, keeping Scott’s arms trapped within his own. 

“You need to calm down,” Jeff said in his ear. Scott twisted in the hold but his father’s grip was too strong. 

“I have to help Virgil.” 

“This is not the way, and you know it. You’ll only get yourself into trouble and either you or your brother could be hurt if you react like this. Is this what you want?” 

Scott, mercifully, stopped struggling. He was still tense though and Jeff didn’t dare relax his grip. 

“What about Gordon? Do you think this is any example to set your younger brother?” 

He didn’t need to worry about John. He hadn’t copied Scott the way the others did for a while now and had his own way of handling things. Jeff knew his second born had a bad habit of trying to be invisible when the attention was on him, but he had an acid tongue if anyone tried to pick on his brothers – whether that was another child or a grownup. Jeff had been forced to apologise while trying not to laugh more than once. 

“He’ll know that I’ll always defend him.” 

“By getting into trouble yourself? That’s making the situation worse, and you know it.” 

Jeff dared risk a glance at the playground. Lucy was heading back their way, their 8-year-old clutching her hand. Jeff couldn’t read Virgil’s expression from this distance, but he was walking fine, so at least he wasn’t physically hurt. 

“Let me go!” 

“Not a chance, kiddo.” 

Jeff knew that Scott was fighting the hold, but he could barely feel his boy’s struggles as he held him down. It was only when Lucy came closer and they could see for themselves that although there were tear tracks down Virgil’s face, he’d already stopped crying and was smiling at something his mother had just said. 

Jeff sighed in relief. Then Scott went limp. The father suddenly wondered how much Scott had been feeding off his own tension and grimaced. He could keep calm in a business meeting but apparently not so much when it came to someone hurting his children. 

“Everything okay?” He called. He relaxed his grip but didn’t dare let Scott go. Not just yet.  

“All handled,” Lucy said. She had a hand on Virgil’s shoulder but ruffled his hair and nudged him towards his brothers. Virgil didn’t hesitate, dropping down beside John and instantly finding himself with Gordon climbing on him.  

“Get off,” he muttered, but he didn’t push Gordon away like he usually did and there was no conviction in his voice.  

“I was gonna save you,” Gordon told him, his tone uncharacteristically serious. 

“I didn’t need saving. Especially not from you.” Virgil wasn’t meeting Gordon’s eye. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a helping hand,” Lucy told him, also sitting down. “Even if it comes in squid-form.” She seized Gordon round the middle and pulled him onto her lap, tickling him. Gordon laughed. 

“Johnny, help!” 

John – for once – joined in without hesitation. After a second, Virgil also piled in and Lucy disappeared under three laughing boys. 

“You okay?” Jeff murmured in Scott’s ear. He softened his grip until he was hugging his boy. Scott didn’t let that happen very often these days and Jeff missed it. 

He heard Scott swallow before the boy nodded. “Yeah.” 

Gently, Jeff let go until Scott could sit up. His son looked at him, and it was a mixture of the man he’d one day be and the little boy he was trying so hard not to be. 

“They know you’ll protect them,” Jeff said quietly. “But there’s a right and a wrong way of doing it. You understand that, right?” 

Scott couldn’t meet his eyes but he nodded again. Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Don’t get me wrong, Scotty, I’m proud of you for wanting to look out for them. But no getting into fights, or you’ll be the one in trouble.” 

“Copy that,” Scott said. Jeff properly relaxed at hearing the words. 

“Now, go on, I think your mom needs you right now,” he said. He nudged Scott towards the pile that was his wife and three kids. Scott didn’t need telling twice and charged over, scooping a surprised and delighted Gordon into the air just as Alan woke up. 

Jeff fetched his youngest, keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he balanced the 18-month-old in his arms. Alan’s eyes were wide as he watched the laughing pile of siblings. 

“Maniacs,” Jeff told him. “The lot of them.” 

Alan’s answer giggle told him the smallest Tracy both agreed and approved. 

[timegays]

Saw au because Augh-

(Ignore the broken arm thing on the first pic that’s only supposed to be on the second.)

Skull means they die in the end

Plus post trap injuries 

Elaboration under the cut!!

I should specify that they are not carbon copies of the characters they are based off kinda just. Parodies? You’ll get it.

Mischa-Adam. Young rapper in college just trying to get big. Photographs things he thinks would be cool album covers. Was put in the bathroom trap because he "wasted his time on a fruitless dream.". Head and neck scars are from when he hit his head on the toilet in that one scene. Yea. He also had a scar from getting shot by Noel. He got out alive tho after Noel came back for him.Doesn't work for jigsaw. Goes to Saint cassian college

ocean- strahm. Detective in the saw case. Grumpy and as stressed as strahm. Just graduated college recently. (Saint cassian college. In fact all the kids went to the same college.. Has the same hole in her throat from the water cube trap. Dies the same way as strahm does.

Constance- Perez. Ocean's partner in the saw case. A bit more anxious about jigsaw but not afraid to take action. Scars from when the doll exploded in her face. Was killed by Ricky I just haven't decided what happens yet <•_•>. Noel- Lawrence. Majoring in law because his parents made him. Was put in the bathroom trap because he "always is a tool for other people and never does anything for himself" Got out after cutting off his leg. Karnak made him an apprentice and he helps Karnak not get caught since he knows the law so well.Went back to save Mischa but Mischa doesn't know he's an apprentice. Lives in the end to continue the jigsaw legacy.

Ricky- Hoffman. Shhh lemme explain. Ricky is a college student working on being a writer. He was very interested in the jigsaw killer. After being enraged by someone stealing and publishing all his work without giving him any kind of recognition he took things a bit to far. He put the person into a copycat trap. (What trap? Idk.). Of course Karnak was not please and tested Ricky the same way hoffman was tested (I’m still deciding if it’s the same or diff test). Ricky the starts working for Karnak by helping him set up blueprints, build, and write the tapes. He kills Constance and Virgil. Noel kills him in the end the same way lawrence did to hoffman. Watched over Ezra when penny disappeared. penny/Jane doe.- Amanda. Went to college for some time while watching over her little brother, Ezra. She was put into the reverse bear trap (which also connected to her neck in the au) for supposedly not appreciating her life. After a  severe head injury when getting out of the trap she lost pretty much all her memories. She doesn’t remember anything about herself including Ezra and her name. Karnak took her in and renamed her Jane. She works as an apprentice by helping with getting the victims and keeping the doll instance/setting it up. 

Karnak- the jigsaw killer himself. Was a rollercoaster builder previously. After one of his coasters went awry and crashed, killing the passengers and injuring him. He was ridden with guilt and a new sense of life. He puts people into traps to make them appreciate what life they have left and to not destroy it like he did. Feels he has control over who lives and dies. Gets killed in the end similarly to John. (Haven’t decided the specifics of all that because he doesn’t have cancer but anyways-)

Virgil- Jill. No. Karnak does not marry the rat. I just wanted to include Virgil because I thought it was funny. Was just a rat in the warehouse before Karnak found him. Karnak became attached to him and personified him after being alone for so long in the warehouse. He knows all of jigsaws secrets and everything that happens. Dies in the end to Ricky’s hands because Ricky kinda began to lose it and blamed Virgil for everything that happened to him for some reason.  Ezra- Daniel. Teen who was living with his sister before she disappeared. Doesn’t know what Karnak did to her. Ricky takes care of him now that his sister is gone. Dedicated to finding out what happened to his sister and what the big deal with the jigsaw killer is. Mischa meets him later on and helps him try to figure it all out. He eventually finds out Penny is alive but she can’t take care of him anymore and barley even remembers him. He now lives with Mischa for the time being.

[prodigal-explorer]

the sides as pokemon gym leaders

roman -> the first gym leader, fire type. the youngest gym leader, being only thirteen years old. very hot-headed, only uses attack moves (never uses status moves). still has a lot to learn, but is a very powerful pokemon trainer. gives all of his pokemon beautiful shakespearean names. believes in himself and his pokemon. naive, slightly spoiled, and an incredibly sore loser. his partner pokemon is fennekin.

patton -> the second gym leader, normal type. an older man in his late 50's who looks perfectly harmless. notorious for having very, very long battles because all of his pokemon are mega tanks that have a lot of defense but not a lot of attack. smiley, cheerful, always cracking jokes. tries to run your patience thin enough to convince you to forfeit. something about him doesn't seem quite right. his partner pokemon is chansey.

logan -> the third gym leader, ground type. around middle age, 30's, with a didactic energy. very neat and put together, but also a little bit wild. cares a lot about the rules and honor, and he will yell at you if you break the sleep clause or any other rule that prevents unfair advantage. prioritizes strategy over strength, and only uses moves that have 100% accuracy. his partner pokemon is sandslash.

janus -> the fourth gym leader, psychic type. an older teen, clearly a bit of a prodigy. very calm under pressure, and manipulative. the opposite of logan in the sense that he is very dishonorable, breaking every unspoken rule and clause there is at every given opportunity, thus making him a very tough opponent. his downfall is that he gets cocky if he finds himself winning, and he lets his guard down. his partner pokemon is deoxys.

remus -> the fifth gym leader, fighting type. roman's age, since the two are twins, but is a few minutes older. similar to his brother in the sense that he's very powerful, but he is more skilled when it comes to strategy. he tends to take in pokemon that a lot of people label as "ugly". he is a very hard hitter, but he is a big one-trick-pony. all of his pokemon are pure fighting types, which make him very easy to defeat if one is familiar with type advantages. his partner pokemon is machamp.

virgil -> the sixth gym leader, ghost type. a young adult. comes across as a timid mumbler, but if one ever manages to come close enough to hear what virgil mutters under his breath, they will find out that he's actually very sassy. the most skilled trainer out of all the gym leaders. doesn't say a word to other trainers while battling them. has all dual types, with very unexpected move sets on each one. basically, whether or not you're gonna get out of virgil's gym battle with a conscious pokemon is completely up to chance. his partner pokemon is gourgeist.

(i know technically that pokemon games have eight gym leaders and a final boss but i only felt like writing about the six sides LMAO)

[edutainer2022]

To amuse myself amidst the bleak bombings I did a little fun(ish) thing within the general context of Timey-Wimey, the Future!Tracies crossover, but it could be perceived independently. It may be not the best idea to hack family video archives, while situated in a time paradox.

For more references of the Tracy future ever after in this continuity, see Piano Lessons and Worries. Indefinite thanks go to @janetm74 for inspiration and support.

WIBLY-WOBLY

The holovideo was shaky at first, someone with the camera was, probably, adjusting the hold. There was also a bit of a squabble going on in the background. The holocam tilted, recording a familiar side hallway in the villa. The walls were decorated anew, though, with pictures and paintings they never saw. There was also soft carpeting where previously they were used to hardwood. The frame was finally rectified and an unseen hand pushed the touchpanel of a door. A voice off screen, too jovial to be serious, declared:

"Tracy TV! Would you be amenable to take part in a poll?"

The brothers let out a collective gasp as a tall slim figure turned around to face the camera. Grinning at them against the backdrop of a summer afternoon was Scott. A twenty years old Scott. Upon closer look they could see the shade of meticulously styled hair was darker, so was the blue of the gaze. But the dimples were there, the posture, the bone structure, and the fond smile that could power a sun.

"Shoot, Squidletts!"

There were appalled noises from behind the camera, but a voice pressed on. A girl's, that time.

"Do you believe in love?"

"Oh... that's a good question! I believe..."

The young man stretched and squeezed his eyes dreamily. When they opened back up, the deep blue was brimming with mischief.

"I believe... I'd LOOOOVE a sandwich right about now!"

The young man burst into a hearty laugh and the Tracies hitched a breath in unison again. The resemblance was striking.

The holofeed shimmered in and out of focus some more through the turns and passages of the upper level of the villa. At some point it paused in view of a lanky freckled teen, curled up in a window niche, engrossed in some diagrams on a tablet. Despite the tropical heat, the boy was clad in layers of oversized sweatshirt and a truly hideous cardigan. The attempt of the "Tracy TV crew" to engage him in their poll resulted in a well-aimed trainer gliding their way at an alarming speed. The kid barely even got distracted from reading and the hapless reporters made a hasty retreat, before the canon shoe landed with a thud.

That brought them sprinting to the balcony, overlooking the lounge. The video on screen skipped up and down in time with the running. First only the sound was audible, then the holopicture stabilized. The spacious area was filled with viscous rue of Puccini's "O mio babbino caro" in a velvet female voice, swirling all the way up to the glass ceiling. The pianist concealed by the raised top, but for a streak of red and black flanel, the camera focused on the singer. Thick black curls in a French braid, soft brown eyes, full forms, a green sundress. The girl looked remarkably the way Virgil did when he lost a bet to Gordon that one time. Or rather, if Thunderbird Two were a girl come alive. The voice seemed to reach through the gossamer veil of the holovid and envelope them all in their current strange surroundings. Nobody dared speak, lost for breath with awe.

When the aria ended there was a low whistle off screen. Then followed enthusiastic applause and a resounding "Bravo!", in a voice they knew all too well that time. The camera jumped again and recorded a startled shriek:

"Uncle Scott!!!"

The Tracies exchanged anxious looks. The frame shifted to accomodate a newcomer - too tall to fit he bent slightly to be eyelevel with the 'reporters'. Slim figure as fit as ever, the grey suit made the blue of the eyes stand out. The right shade, this time. But the hair was all steel and silver, much like Dad's. The smile was also different. The brothers hadn't seen that one since when Mom was still alive.

"Now, what are you two up to?"

There were more dimensions of levity in the grin and the lines that flanked bright blue eyes.

"Solemnly up to no good, sir!"

The twin chorus off screen declared eagerly, with audible delight. That was obviously a well practiced routine between them. The Double Trouble scrambled to remember the purpose of their noble endeavor.

"Uncle Scott, do you believe in love?"

The smile deepened the dimples on the man's face, he reached one arm to hug someone, the other lifted up to ruffle some hair, eliciting a universally recognizable sqauck.

"Of course I do! I love your parents and all you lot. More than anything in the world! I love the way your cousin Lucy sings. I love how you're always up to mischief. I love to see how smart and talented you all are. I love to see you grow up happy. And I'd love to make the world safer and kinder for you all!"

The camera dropped the frame again in favor of a brief fierce hug, before the transmission skedaddled to the elevator and down to the hangars.

It was hard to discern the details as the camera was facing the concrete floor for some time. Much as the brothers wouldn't mind a peek into the inevitable changes of the Thunderbirds' roost, the cracks and bumps remained as they remembered. They managed to see a red sign "Restricted Area", usually deployed by Brains, when experiment muse struck. But it definitely didn't deter the intrepid investigators. The video picked up a young ginger woman in lab coveralls, manipulating screenfuls of holodata.

"Hey, Sisi! Do you believe in love?"

Green eyes looked up from shifting datastreams, as the girl seemed to give the question some actual thought.

"Belief presupposes reliance on unverified and uncorroborated data points. Since I am aware of sufficient amount of proof that my synthetic biometrical makeup is not designed to produce chemicals usually associated with emotional affection in mammals, then no, I do not BELIEVE in love. But the complex neural connections I have elaborated over time allow me to experience strong cognitive affinity and preference for the select members of the Tracy family over all other representatives of the same species. And don't call me "Sisi", I am the Dawn!"

The sniggers off screen were drowned in a gasp their side of the holofeed, just as it was shut down forcefully. John was frozen in place, mesmerizing the same red-headed girl, looking not a day older, now frowning at them. Alan  jumped to his feet, indignant.

"You're not Dawn! You're Eos!!!!"

"That is an optimal deduction, yes."

Gordon snorted. John's brow furrowed in return. From behind Eos, the twins, Grant and Sally, were entering back into the room.

"Yo, you hacked our old reels! Neat! Tracy TV was a hoot! Ouch! Hey!"

A cuff up the head stopped the trip down the memory lane, as Kip caught up with the duo.

"You weren't supposed to get exposed to background data. That complicates the time loop, makes it harder to break without consequence."

"Well, duh, Carpenter! No kidding! What do we do now?"

It was time for another dramatic baited breath, as several pairs of eyes trained on the young man, shocked for a different reason their unexpected hosts might have assumed.

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 14

🧡❤️🩶💛🚒🐦‍🔥

"So what's the plan?" Rigby jogged up alongside John.

"Here," John pressed a button at his wrist and the rock face in front of them opened; much the way a garage door might.

"Impressive," Rigby mused aloud. He let out a long, low whistle as he stepped inside.

"We need to clear a path around the pool. Jetpacks just won't cut it if we're gonna try n' stabilize One," John pointed to his brother's green Bird.

"Need me to pilot her?" Rigby's face held more than a trace of excitement.

"Oh...no, sorry," John scratched the back of his head.

"You'll be driving one of her pods. When we've cleared enough of the debris, and the villa has been stabilized; I may need you in Phoenix's carrier to help with moving One."

Rigby straightened and gave a nod.

"Time is scarce. Reports say Alan's okay, but we have a further three people in the villa who may require urgent medical attention, and I can't risk McCready's team in there until we know they have a chance at making it back out again," John sighed.

Rigby cleared his throat; his face visually construing a silent inner-debate.

"What?" John urged, then winced inwardly at his tone. Adjusting to Earth's gravity appeared to be even more wearing when fearing for your family's well being.

"You know, you can call them by name - Virgil and Gordon. We...we have your back," Rigby gave John an awkward clap on the back.

The clap echoed around the cavernous hangar.

John swallowed hard to staunch impending tears. There was a second's pause, before the astronaut stepped into his missing brother's Bird.

*. *. *.

"Knock, knock!" Parker called to signal his arrival outside of Alan's door.

"Erm...am I supposed to say who's there?" Alan's young voice came back.

" 'Oo's there? Well, hI'm glad to see that yer haven't lost your sense of humour along with yer bedroom!" Parker chuckled as he worked the lock on Alan's door.

There was a satisfying sound of the latch clicking, and the door swung open.

"Looks like you could use an 'and, Master Alan," he smiled, extending a hand.

"F-A-B-," Alan enthused, hauling himself up, and into the corridor, with Parker's help.

The teen cracked his back.

"Welp, I think I now hold the Tracy Island record for the longest pull up!"

*. *. *.

"We had to make an 'ole in Master Gordon's window to get to you. 'Fraid your brother's parking had made somewhat of a mess," Parker gestured towards Gordon's rooms.

"Didn't you teach him to drive?" Alan grinned.

"Cars, young Master Tracy, not rocket ships! And, I'll 'ave less of yer cheek! Scott might not be firin' on all cylinders at the moment, but you mark my words - I 'ave a memory like an elephant!" Parker chuckled, wagging a finger.

"You look like one too!"

"Oi!" Parker swatted at the teen as he ran.

*. *. *.

John and Rigby had made light work of clearing the debris surrounding the villa, and the structure was stabilised enough for a team to head up to help locate Virgil, Grandma, and Gordon.

"HELLO? VIRG? GRANDMA? GORD-"

"-OVER HERE!" Gordon hammered a small rock against a metal support beam.

The team tentatively picked their way over splintered floorboards and around mounds of rock that lay strewn across what was left of the comms room.

"Allie, is that you?"

"The one and only! I've brought some friends with me. Didn't wanna hog all the glory, y'know?"

"Phoenix?"

"Yup!"

Jonesy took a step closer, with a small hydraulic whine from the suit.

"Jonesy?"

"S'up Gords? I like what you've done with the place. You're kinda lacking in the door department though."

"Well y'know what Virgil always says; if you can't find a door, make one!" Gordon called from behind the fallen rocks.

"My thoughts exactly!"

"WAIT!" Tycho was almost pulled forwards into the rock face as he tried to stall Jonesy's suited arm.

"The structure's too unstable. Any attempt to move these boulders risks the whole lot coming down on top of Gordon," Tycho gesticulated wildly.

"Yeah, let's not do that." Gordon deadpanned.

"So what's the plan?" Jonesy couldn't deny that the thrill of using the exosuit had him itching to use his new superpower again. Two tonne boulder? No problem! He'd just shifted it like....kapow!

Tycho dragged his hands down his face as he thought.

"Hmm...we need to get a better view of what we're dealing with. Right here, we can only see half of the puzzle." Tycho pensively ran a hand down the largest boulder.

"And how are we gonna do that?" Jonesy was under the distinct impression that Tycho wasn't referencing the exosuit.

"I think I have just the thing!"

The scientist bent down and unfastened the clasps of a small metal case he'd carried down from the carrier.

"Jonesy, meet Mini Max.”

[skeefee-sky]

Let's try and move on from the Virgil-focused sims posts, shall we xD Haha, here's what's happening with the rest of the fam; :D

I got Alan aged up :D They went on vacation to celebrate, as you do-! Haha.

After they got home, I got bored and downloaded a height slider mod. So, after I booted up the game again-... Their icons had me giggling for five minutes after I got out of CAS, oml- x'D I'm giggling again after documenting this haha! (I've edited them the slightest since I got these images, just to make their heights a little bit more accurate >w<)

I forgot when you age-up teens to adults, they graduate! Alan was apparently the highest achieving student in class so, he got to give a Valedictorian Speech c: Lookit his proud older brothers!! (dunno where Virgil wandered off to x'D)

(I haven't played through High School Years enough - the entire graduation ceremony is actually so cute, oml ;w;)

The young'uns went to the beach one day while Scott and John were at work and-.... oh no... welp, guess Gordon's a mermaid now. (with a cc orca tail, heehee >w<)

They got a doggo!! Meet Buster; the goodest boi! (don't worry; there usually is always at least one of them home to take care of him c:)

Some career stuff~: -*Scott did finally get promoted enough that he is actually a pilot now. No more of that 'airline employee' or 'travel assistant' stuff x'D He can go nyoom in planes :3 -*John has a work rival. Things are going, great for him... >w< (I made him socially awkward and clumsy so, you can imagine how that's going- lol) -*While working in the Aquarist career, Gordon has a developed a hatred against seafood so... anything the others make with fish in it, he gets icky after eating it >w< -*Alan's not yet reached astronaut level. He's two-weeks out of aging up so, he has to suffer through being a Food Service Cashier first x'D -*Virgil's still living life being a stay-at-home painter in his studio. He's started selling some of the wood sculptures he makes too c:

And... that's actually about it x'D Not much else has happened. Maybe I need to make them go do something spontaneous haha

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

*materializes into existence*

Heya! :D

It's been over 3-4 months since I've been active in this fandom, but I wanted to drop in to say hi! I've missed my boys.

ANYWAY: Virgil and Remus in a Gravity Falls AU? Like, Remus and Roman are in the Pines family (twins in those family genetics) who are visiting their Grunkle Patton for the summer. Cool kid and kinda lazy worker Janus Corduroy who works at the shack to avoid working at his dad's business. Virgil is in Janus' teen friend group. Virgil's vibes are pretty similar to Robbie Valentino. No weird romantic jealousy in this because it's one of the things that felt kinda stupid to me in canon. So we're not doing that.

Anyway! In this au, the twins are actually between 14-15, same age group as Virgil & Janus. Logon (or Grunkle Logan) is the Author of the Journals in this. Which also means Patton and Logan are twins in this. Because I say so.

Anyway, Remus and Virgil develop this little romantic interest towards each other. It's not weird because they're about the same age and there's not a three-year age gap like in canon. They become friends after a bit, but Roman and Remus have to go home before Dukexiety can act on their feelings. They decide to remain long distance pals for now.

There's some undecided factors in this: Bill Cipher, Weirdmageddon, other character roles, possibility of putting Thomas & Nico into this...To be fair, I just thought of this on the fly, lmao.

Enjoy my silly rambles. Happy to see ya again! :D

Heyo Oatmeal welcome back! :}D Now first things first I fucking L O V E L O V E L O V E E V E R Y T H I N G about this oml Y E S!!! Lo and Patt being twins/brothers in general is something S O fucking beloved and dear to me and them pretty much being Stan and Ford is definitely an unexpected casting that I fucking A D O R E!!! Secondly Wendy!Jan is just Y E S and the relationship/dynamic fix for the Spooky Beloveds is just *chef's kiss* Such a D E L I C I O U S concept (Hopefully they can reunite soon after another seasonal break) And lastly we absolutely need more Character!Thomas rep in AUs (I'm thinking he can be Soos but that's just me)

[phantomhunting]

We're Here and We're Queer // Sanders sides modern teen AU

CHAPTER 1 - queer teens have immense crushes on each other and wont fucking CONFESS ALREADY.

<Next chapter coming soon>

CW: implied abuse, and intrulogical being intrulogical (mostly Remus)

Ships: Logan x Remus, Roman x Virgil, Remy x Janus, Emile x Patton

Patton was sitting in his room in front of the mirror, trying to make his light cyan hair look good, but it was too messy. He sighed, the reflection of his soft blue eyes staring at him from the mirror. "I hate this" he whispered. He sighed again and got up, going to his closet and taking out his favorite top, a baby blue vest with a white button-up. He put it on and grabbed his school bag and walked downstairs to get some breakfast.

There wasn't much to eat at home, even though the Mor family (which Patton was part of) had a lot of money. He decided to eat some overly-sugary cereal with lactose free milk (because he's lactose intolerant). When Patton finished eating, he could hear his father walk up the stairs. He quickly washed the dishes he used and placed them neatly on the dish rack. He checked the time, '8:10' was what the clock read. "You're late to school again." his father exclaimed as he entered the room. Patton started breathing heavily, scared of what his father might do. "I-i was just leaving!" He grabbed his bag and ran out the house before his father could do anything. He ran all the way to school, not wanting to be even more late.

- - -

Virgil was sitting in the back of the class with his small dagger shaped fidget, barely listening to the teacher. He was waiting for the break so he could hang out with his friends. He and his older brother, Logan, have recently moved into this city, and a group of students have accepted them in as one of their own. Virgil always doubted if they actually liked them or if it was just because they're new, but at least he'll make the most of it. After two long and boring math classes, it was finally break time. Virgil put all his stuff in his locker and grabbed his food from his bag. He ran to the back of the school, which was where the group always stayed while in there. Roman, Patton, and Remus were already sitting and chatting there. Virgil was hesitant to approach, not wanting to intrude. Then, he suddenly felt a hand touch his shoulder. He jumped and let out a squeak, turning around to see... His older brother, Logan!

"Lo.. don't ever do that again" he tried to sound intimidating but he was so much smaller than him. "What did you get?" Logan asked, pointing at Virgil's lunchbox. "Oh- umm, it's just some bread with a piece of cheese on it" Virgil answered. "You know, you need to eat more than that, Virg" Logan's tone seemed harsh, but Virgil knew Logan cared a lot about him. They both walked over to the group, and sat down next to them.

"Virgil! Logan!" Patton called, happy to see his friends. "Hello!" Remus called as well, only happy to see Logan. "Hi..!" Roman whispered quietly to Virgil, blushing slightly. "Hey, Roman.." Virgil responded, hoping his makeup hides his red face. "Ree, is that new?" Virgil asked, pointing at the collar on Remus' neck. "Why won't you ask your brother~?" Remus responded, making a flirty face to Logan. "Ew- you could've just said yes" Virgil wanted to throw up thinking about his brother and Roman's brother having... Adult times. Remus scoffed. "Has anyone seen Barry? We were supposed to study now but he's not responding to my texts." Logan quickly changed the topic. "Probably still asleep, he oversleeps constantly" Remus responded, taking out his bottle (that's full of some blue liquid that seems full of sugar) and taking a sip. Logan is disgusted by the drink, but moves on, "he's usually here by now..." he checks his phone's notifications again. "Ugh, why does it matter? We're having a conversation here now" Remus rolled his eyes.

There was silence for a few seconds, only the sounds of Patton's chocolate chip cookies in his mouth were heard. "Wassup nerds" Janus sat next to his younger brother, Patton, and placed his bag of oatmeal cookies besides him. "Good morning, Jan" Remus smiled. Virgil and Roman rolled their eyes, they both disliked Janus a bit too much. Janus flashed a sarcastic smile back at them both, raising the tension.

"hey, Remus, may i speak to you in private?" Logan asked, cutting the tension. "Ooo~" Remus smirked. "About a serious topic. Now." Logan hurried. "Alright alright" Remus got up, and Logan followed. They both walked inside the building, they were out of sight in a moment. "Well.... Uh, Roman, did you see the vid i sent you?" Virgil asked, attempting to start a conversation without Patton or Janus. "I did! Wait- we're talking about the dnd one, right?" Roman hurried to clarify, and Virgil nodded, "yeah so i did watch it, it seemed really interesting! I'd love to do a game with you some day" Roman blushed. Virgil smiled awkwardly, wanting to show Roman his years of campaign planning just for him, but he knew it'd seem weird. "Hey, lovebirds, there are more people sitting with you" Janus exclaimed, signaling at himself and his brother. Roman and Virgil both burst into denying chatter, while Patton giggled to himself. They all spent the rest of the break talking about some math teacher that got pregnant from a different teacher. Remus and Logan didn't come back.

- - -

At the end of the school day, as Patton walked out, he saw two cute boys talking right outside the school's gate. He took a deep breath and approached them. "H-hey! My name is Patton, and I think you look really cool, wanna be friends?" He asked, seeming as innocent as a baby. The taller one chuckled, "sure. Im Remy, this is my twin brother, Emile" he smiled, and took a sip out of his coffee. Emile smiled a bit, already knowing he's got feelings for Patton, he always saw him around, hanging with hus classmate, Virgil, and he always seemed so sweet and caring. It was obvious he liked puns, just perfect for him. "He's awkward" Remy whispered to Patton, and preceded to be slapped by Emile. Patt giggled, but in a friendly way rather than a bullying way. Thats when Janus whispered into Patton's ear, "we need to get home, bitch" and laughed.

"LANGUAGE!!" Patton shouted. Janus just kept laughing. "Sorry, uh, this is my brother, Janus" he explained to his new friends. "Is Janus your actual name?" Emile asked, his sweet honey colored eyes glowing with curiosity. "Nope, its Julia. But i really hate that name, so i changed it. Too feminine" Janus explained, grabbing Patton's hand, "now, me and my beloved brother need to head home. See ya!" he dragged him off to the bus stop.

- - -

"he was amazing!!" Emile called, flapping his hands. "His brother was hotter." Remy replied, sipping his coffee like the bad bitch that he is. "Sometimes i really dont get how you're my twin brother and not some distant uncle of an uncle" Em joked. "What can i say, I'm the Picani with the most personality" Remy flipped imaginary hair (his hair is too short). "Pfft, yeah, right. You dont even know what you're gonna do next week, i already know what im learning in college." Emile joked as they both started walking home.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @alexthefly

From @alexthefly to @gaviiadastra

FUN AND GAMES NIGHT

The prompts:

A Tracy Island games night;

Something’s cooking in the kitchen;

Put the mess in domestic.

Rating: teen

Content warnings:

Moderate whump (fracture, soft tissue injuries);

Alcohol throughout (no drunkenness);

Flirting, including innuendo and one sex mention;

One instance of swearing.

Other warnings: a bit of Pen & Ink included in this one; hope that's ok.

**********

A familiar combination of thrusters, VTOL and a slightly-delayed sonic boom signalled Thunderbird One's return to the island. Gordon immediately felt his heart-rate leap a hundred beats.

“They’re here! Action stations! Alan, fluff the cushions; Virgil, get the food; Kayo…”

Whatever task Gordon had been about to assign to her fizzled away in a blaze of epic side-eye.

“...just kick back and relax, ok? No biggie.”

He backed away a few steps just to be safe, but his sister seemed satisfied, pointedly putting her feet back up on the coffee table before returning to her romance book. 

Any other day the temptation to comment on her choice of reading material would be far too much to bear, however hazardous to his health such a comment might be, but today he had other things occupying his mind.

“What can I do?” asked John, making to get up just as Virgil - already on his feet - pushed him firmly back down onto the sofa.

“You can stay right there, Mister,” he said, voice full-medic stern. “You know the rules. First night down from Five means no unnecessary moving around.”

John rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian, but thankfully stayed where he was. 

Gordon flashed the big man a grateful smile on his way past to the kitchen. The last thing he needed right now was a certified space-case causing a danger to himself and others.

Not tonight.

“Shall I get some tunes ready?” Alan had already pulled his tablet out from behind a pillow and started tapping. “I’ve got a great playlist I’ve been working o-”

“Is it video game music?” asked Kayo, not even looking up.

“Yeah?”

“No!” The chorus was unanimous.

“Aww, but it’s not like normal video games. It’s this really cool mix of techno and-”

“NO!”

Alan pouted. “Oh, so I guess you'd all rather listen to Fish-boy’s sea shanties and Europop?”

“Hey!”

Gordon was all ready to defend his frankly impeccable musical taste, but John was clearly not in a mood for bickering.

“EOS, could you put on playlist P3 please?”

“Of course John.”

And with that the room was filled with gentle contemporary music - upbeat but not too raucous, neither intrusive nor dull - ideal for an evening with company. Obviously it was no Wellerman, but it wasn’t half bad. 

“Would you like some ambient lighting as well?”

“Not right now, thankyou EOS” replied John, ruffling Alan’s hair as he sat back down with a huff. “Is everything okay up there? Any calls? I could dial in if you need me?”

“Absolutely not,” said Kayo, an edge of menace in her voice. “You’re staying right where you are. Grandma’s orders.”

John scowled.

“Really John, there’s no need,” continued EOS. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things for one evening.”

Gordon noted the slight drop of his big brother’s shoulders but decided not to tug on that thread just now. Gravity always did a number on John the first night down, and it had been known to make him grumpy and homesick.

Virgil wandered back in carrying a big bucket filled with ice water, bottles of beer, prosecco, and cans of soda. With every step another puddle of ice water sloshed over the side and onto the floor.

“Allie, get a cloth would you? And could someone get some glasses out please? I’m kinda weighed down here.”

Kayo and Alan each grabbed one of John’s shoulders, using them to both pin him down and haul themselves up. The older man started to object, but was distracted by a ping on Alan’s tablet beside him.

“Scott’s on his way up now.”

Oh god oh god oh god. 

Gordon had the sudden and inexplicable urge to dunk his head in the bucket Virgil had just set down, but instead decided to busy himself with robustly re-plumping the chair pillows while bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“So everything’s ready, right? Place is tidy, drinks are out, games are stacked, food’s in hand… Are we all set? Should I open a window? It’s kinda hot in here.” Am I sweating? “Maybe I should go change-”

“Breathe Gordon.” soothed Virgil, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The weight of it felt good. Calming. “This isn’t a state dinner; just a normal games night like we’ve done a thousand times before. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Gordon scoffed. “Except it’s not though, is it? ‘Cos those other times it was just us, not-”

There was a ding and the elevator doors slid open.

“Right through here Lady Penelope.” Scott Tracy, suave as always, smoothly waved their guest into the room. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and we’ll get started.”

“Thankyou Scott. And sorry again that you had to come and collect me…”

And there she was. Penelope.

Perfection personified. The epitome of class and grace. A beautiful angel with a heart of gold and a spine of steel, whose voice was a song and whose smile could reduce whole armies to-

“Gordon, what on earth are you doing to that cushion?”

Huh?

He looked down at his hands to see the pillow he’d been fluffing, now scrunched and twisted over and over as if he were trying to throttle the poor thing. As he stared down trying to compute the mess of fabric and stuffing it suddenly disappeared from his hands, and then something was shoving him in the back, causing him to stumble forwards over his own feet. He recovered just in time to spot Virgil throwing the battered scatter cushion back behind the sofa, grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, there will be vengeance…

Right now though she was looking at him and oh god he needed to say something.

“Uh…”

Quick as you like, Tracy.

“Er…” His throat made a strange sort of rasping sound.

Any words will do!

“Lady Penelope!” he squeaked. “Welcome in! Come here! I mean come in. Welcome here. You’re welcome here. To our home I mean. This home. Where we…”

He glanced over and caught sight of Kayo, face in hand, shaking her head behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the evening.

“Drink!” he exclaimed, just a little too loudly. “Can I… Would you like a drink?”

The small, knowing smile she gave him was all at once thrilling and completely mortifying; a glorious little needle of light straight through his poor, mortal little heart.

“That would be wonderful. Thankyou Gordon.”

Cheeks burning, he slumped off to the bar and a consolatory shoulder nudge from Kayo while Scott showed Penelope to the seating area. Virgil scooted around them and disappeared back down to the kitchen, throwing him a sympathetic look on the way.

After getting their guest settled, Scott casually folded himself down on the sofa next to her. “So how come Parker didn’t join us tonight? He was more than welcome.”

Gordon loudly shovelled a scoopful of ice into a long glass and then reached for the schnapps.

Stupid Never-flustered Always-has-the-right-words Scott Tracy…

“He wasn’t feeling too good I’m afraid. He said something about Lilian’s casserole disagreeing with him, but to be honest I suspect it was probably more to do with the FA cup final showing on BBC.”

Cranberry, orange wedge…

Kayo cleared her throat softly. “So what drink was it you wanted, Lady Penelope?”

Gordon’s brain short-circuited, vodka in hand. 

What.. drink?

He replayed the conversation - such as it had been - through again in his head.

…Dammit, he forgot to ask! He’d been so flummoxed he’d ended up mixing on autopilot.

“Oh, anything really. Whatever you’re all having.” Penelope looked over curiously. “What’s that you have there, Gordon?”

Aww hell.

“It’s a… umm… Sex on the Beach.”

Now it was John’s turn to facepalm while Alan snickered from behind his tablet. Even Scott snorted before passing it off with a hasty clear of the throat. 

Lady Penelope, however, held Gordon’s gaze, expression inscrutable, then ever so slowly arched one perfectly coiffured eyebrow.

“Well, that sounds interesting. But perhaps just some wine for now and we’ll see how we get on.”

There was a squeak beside him, and Kayo ducked down behind the bar giggling. Alan snort-coughed and had to be hit on the back by John, who was at least trying - somewhat painfully - to keep a straight face. Scott just grinned at him.

Gordon stood there, stunned into inertia, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own mortification holding him back or the slight hint of mischief in Penelope’s eye, almost as if…

Nope, he was definitely imagining it.

Scott looked from one to the other for a moment then, chuckling to himself, jumped to his feet and strode over to the bar.

“C’mon Fish,” he said quietly, grabbing a champagne flute off the bar top and flashing his best, most reassuring, big brother smile. “Let’s go choose a game and get this thing started.”

Gordon nodded, dumbfounded. He grabbed his ridiculous but perfectly mixed drink, complete with little novelty umbrella, and trudged over to the seating area.

Alan was already giving the assembled group a run-down of the various choices lined up for the evening. “We’ve got all your classics like backgammon, chess, battleships, guess who…”

“Those are all for two people, Allie,” said Scott, grabbing himself a beer and pouring Penelope her wine. “How about something we can all play?”

“Clue then?”

“That needs six. We’ve got seven.”

“I don’t mind sitting out the first round if you need me to,” Penelope said gently, accepting her drink.

“Not a chance,” said John firmly. “You’re our guest.”

Alan looked around, confused. “Wait, who’s the seventh?” 

Kayo passed him a soda from the bucket. 

“Uh, Virgil(?)”

“Oh yeah.”

““Oh yeah” he says,” came Virgil’s voice over the ‘comms. “How soon I’m forgotten(!)”

“Sorry Virg!” Alan slurped his soda loudly, earning him a frown from both Scott and Gordon. “Guess I’m just too hungry to think. Where’s the food at?”

“It’s coming. Just waiting for the vol-au-vents to puff up.”

Alan nearly spat out his soda. 

“Vol-au-vents?! What happened to our wings and chi- Oww!” 

A pillow flew across the room and caught Alan right upside the head. He got back up and glared at Gordon, who was already gearing up for another throw. 

“Whatcha do that for?”

Penelope looked from one to the other, realisation dawning. 

“I do hope you didn’t go to any trouble, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not at all. Really, it’s all in hand. I’ll be up in a few.” 

And with that the comms blinked off.

John swayed forward in his seat. “Y’know, I might go give him a hand…”

“Sit down, John!” ordered Scott, clearly done with them all by this point.

John remained there for a second, possibly weighing up the odds of making a run for it, then sat back down, arms folded definitely-not-at-all petulantly. 

“...Fine.”

“What about Monopoly?” suggested Penelope, clearly trying to change the subject. “That can have up to eight players.”

Kayo shook her head. 

“Can’t.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve been banned,” Alan piped up. “Grandma said so.”

A pause. “...I see.”

“Well that doesn’t matter, does it?” urged Gordon, keen to get everyone playing before the whole evening went up in smoke. “Grandma can’t stop us from all the way in Gran Roca.”

“You sure about that, Gords?” asked Kayo, eyebrow raised.

He laughed nervously. “Heh…”

“In any case,” interjected Scott, “did you forget why Grandma banned it?”

“...Good point.”

The Great Tracy Anti-capitalist Revolution of 2056. In Gordon’s defence Scott had started it, buying up all those hotels like a dragon hoarding gold…

Alan held up a bunch of VR headsets. “How about something more modern? I’ve got Samurai Slasher, Twilight Ridge, Malibu Steade’s Epic Quest…?”

Scott frowned. “Not on John's first night down, Squirt.”

“Oh yeah. Gotcha.”

Gordon nodded. Way too much potential for injury.

“Ugh!” John threw his hands in the air. “You guys are like a flock of mother hens. I’m fine! Look…” He rolled to his feet before anybody could tell him not to. “Nice and steady. No wobbles, no stumbles. Nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Uh, Johnny…”

“John darling...”

“Nope, I’m not listening,” he barked, striding purposely out of the seating area towards the stairwell, “Comfort breaks are necessary, so I don't care what you s-”

“John!”

“Food’s here!”

“Look out!”

There was an “oof” and a crash as spaceman, heavy-lifter and a platter of freshly-made vol-au-vents collided in a mess of limbs and pastry before tumbling out of sight down the kitchen stairs.

“John!”

“Virgil!”

Everyone was on their feet as a series of thuds, grunts, clatters and clangs echoed from the stairway, followed by one very plaintive “Oww.”

The place immediately erupted into total uproar. Ever the level head, Kayo immediately ran to get the first aid kit and the medi-scanner. Meanwhile Scott - always the quickest to leap into action - practically flew down the stairs after the pair of them in a frenzy of big brotherly concern, with Alan, Gordon and Penelope following closely behind. 

The two fallers themselves were actually relatively uninjured in the circumstances. Both were a mess of bruises and grazes and smooshed pastry, but at least they were fully conscious and coherent enough to be thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. John had twisted his ankle and had a walnut-sized bump on his forehead, and Virgil (who had slid most of the way down the steps backwards) ended up with a bruised tailbone, strained shoulder and one broken finger.  

The kitchen, unfortunately, hadn’t fared quite so well. Total disaster was the most accurate description. 

Best they could figure, the metal serving platter Virgil had been carrying had reached the ground floor airborne, bounced off the doorframe and had landed right in the middle of the countertop, sending plates, bowls, jars and spoons scattering and smashing all over the place. The situation wasn’t helped any when MAX, having heard the commotion, came speeding into the kitchen brandishing a mop and broom, skidded on a stray patch of vol-au-vent filling, slammed into the fridge and sent ice cubes from the dispenser shooting across the floor, then got confused and started spinning on the spot, taking out the stand mixer and two cupboard doors in the process.

Eventually they managed to get things back on a somewhat even keel. After a thorough checking over and an even more thorough mothering from Big Bro, both casualties were helped to their feet and safely installed back on the sofas with strict instructions not. To. Move. 

Penelope kept herself busy fetching drinks and ice packs for the patients and generally trying to soothe frayed nerves while Gordon, Alan and Kayo set to work fixing the kitchen back up, but after twenty minutes Scott - aware of the time and the presence of their guest - called everyone back to try to enjoy what was left of the evening.

And so instead of vol-au-vents, chips and dips were retrieved from various stashes in various rooms, drinks were replenished (non-alcoholic for the two injured parties, eliciting low grumbles from one and shrug of “stupid gravity” from the other) and in lieu of further disagreements a couple of packs of cards was produced. 

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying rounds of Go Fish, rummy, and playing poker for bottle caps, with plenty of jokes, stories and good conversation enjoyed in-between. Towards the end of the night - and to Gordon’s delight - Penelope even taught them a game from her university days called Shithead.

Finally, after most of the others had said their goodnights and wandered off to their rooms, Gordon and Penelope sat side-by-side on the sofa finishing their drinks alone, save for Alan who was snoring softly on the floor beside them.

Penelope swirled the last of her drink with her straw. “Do you think we should move him? That doesn’t look very comfortable…”

Gordon shrugged. “Nah, that’s how he normally sleeps. It’s a teenager thing,” he added, chewing on his orange slice garnish.

Penelope beamed. “I really have had a lovely time tonight. It’s been the most terrific fun, injuries notwithstanding of course.” 

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the warm mood lighting that EOS had finally persuaded John to put on an hour or so earlier.

“And this drink of yours really is delicious by the way.”

Gordon laughed.

“See? I knew you’d like it. Maybe one day I’ll open up a bar of my own right on the beach and serve them out of coconut shells.”

He removed the little paper umbrella from his glass and started opening and closing it like he was in a tiny Hollywood musical.

She laughed. “Well if tonight’s anything to go by, any bar of yours would never be dull!”

Gordon grinned and presented the tiny decoration to her with a flourish, all hint of his earlier embarrassment gone. He was here, she was here, and it was all just… right.

She accepted it with a smile.

Really though Gordon, it’s been the most wonderful night.” 

There was a pause while she twirled the umbrella in her hand thoughtfully.

“You know, it’s not always easy to relax around other people, especially in my line of work.” She sighed. “So many functions, so many people, but it can all sometimes feel just a little bit…” 

She shook her head. 

“I’m not making any sense. It’s just that being here with you all, everything feels so… easy; so fun.”

Gordon leaned forwards, willing her to go on. It was like a wall somewhere was shifting, and he could finally catch a small glimpse of what was actually going on behind that perfect smile of hers.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is, thankyou so much for inviting me.”

A breath. A moment that seemed to stretch out between them, soft and fragile.

“Thankyou for coming.”

-------------------

The next morning, as Penny yawned and stretched out in the extra-soft, gloriously comfortable guest bed, luxuriating in the distinct novelty of waking up with nowhere particular she needed to be, her eye fell on the little yellow umbrella laying, just as she'd left it, on top of the nightstand beside her.

She smiled, her stomach fluttering.

So fun…

From downstairs there was a sudden commotion and a voice:

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU KIDS DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!”