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itsalwaysforyou · 2 months

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the black sky and all those lights

a silly little something i wrote for jalentines!!

When Mal opens the dormitory door, Jay is standing in the hallway in his workout gear, hair tied up in a bun. He’s already grinning in that way he does when he wins a fight. Mal rolls her eyes at him. Grabbing her bag, she says bye to Evie, and joins Jay in the corridor.

She scowls as they walk, her workout clothes tight on her skin. Jay had insisted they’d do things properly, and not in their usual leather.

The hallways are decorated for Valentine’s Day, making Auradon Prep even more gaudy and colourful as usual. Pink and red hearts plastered across the walls, boasting the abundance of love here in Auradon. Jay’s had a thousand notes in his locker. Mal’s had none. Every morning, she watches Jay approach his locker like he would a target on the Isle. Weight forward, shoulders squared; ready to fight if needs be. And the paper falls to the floor like blood, only sickly pastel. Scrawled glittery gel pen. Words confessing passionate love, or asking him on dates, or doodles of hearts. Jay smiles the whole time. Greets and winks at girls. Scrunches those notes up in a fist.

“Everywhere looks disgusting,” Mal says as they approach the sports hall. Heart-shaped bunting crests the doors.

Jay holds the door open for her. “It’s fun.”

“You would think that.”

The sports hall is mercifully free of décor. They drop their bags in the corner and begin to warm up, another stupid practice Jay insists on. His top rides up as he side-stretches. Isle rule: never show skin, especially to the enemy. Except, Jay loved to parade around in those stupid sleeveless vests. She’s yelled at him plenty of times about it—Are you insane? You’re a walking target. He would just grin and say, they’ll have to catch me first.

Jay laughs as he grabs the practice swords from their stands. “Here.”

He throws it, and Mal catches. The weight in her hand is familiar. Already, her pulse is thrumming faster, and maybe if she closes her eyes she’ll be back on the docks, with the wind ripping at her hair, and the salt stinging her nose, and half a dozen of Uma’s crew jeering over the clanging of swords.

Jay chucks her a mask too, before attaching one to his own face. The mesh turns her vision slightly hazy.

“Ready?” Jay asks.

Mal’s watched fencing practise a few times, mostly as an excuse not to do homework and instead watch her boys wipe the floor with all those prissy Auradon princes. Coach Jenkins appointed Jay captain of the team a few months ago, a role he takes more seriously than she’s ever seen him take anything.

“Rassembler! Salute! Lower the point. Masks down. En guarde!”

Mal lunges first, which Jay clearly anticipates, parrying her blow. He circles. Strikes. Mal blocks it. He’s quick. Reflexes honed to a sword’s point; learned by practise and theory. Mal lashes out again, just catching his free arm before he jerks away. She grins underneath her mask. Her breath comes quicker. Jay’s blade arcs down, hitting her chest. Mal swats his blade away. She hears him laugh. She growls. Strike. Parry. Strike. Block. Strike. Jay lands another hit. Their shoes squeak against the linoleum floor.

“Come on, Mal,” Jay teases.

Mal lunges like a cat on its prey. Jay’s blade grates against hers like steel against flint. Jay may be quick but Mal’s smaller, and she weaves her way through Jay’s blade until they both have the sword’s point angled at each other’s chests.

They’re both panting. Jay lowers his sword first. Takes off his mask.

“You came in clutch at the end,” he says.

Mal huffs, wiggling the mask off her face and wiping her forehead with a sleeve. “You actually get training.”

“And now I’m training you!”

His hair has loosened during the sparring, spilling out at the seams. He unties the bun; flips his hair down and shakes it out. In this late-afternoon light, his hair could be made of gold. Hair longer than Mal’s ever had.

He pulls his hair back into its bun, deft fingers making quick work. When he straightens back up again, his face is slightly flushed from the match.

And Mal looks at this boy she’s known most of her life; this face and these hands; a boy that has held her at the end of the world and the start of a new one. And she snatches back down her mask.

“Again,” she says, lifting up her sword.

She’s swinging before Jay’s even had the chance to pull his own mask back down. Her blade slices against his chest, and she hears the breath escape from his lungs.

“Fuck!’

Jay’s blocking her hits in no time. Mal grits her teeth. A boy who’s inhabited every place she’s ever been. The shadow along the street; a fixed point on the rooftops. Those long, quick fingers that know their way around bandage; around open flesh; around her own hands. Like a comet to Earth. Like an eclipse. Totally consuming.

And here, where the sun shines brighter than they could have ever dreamed, she is left blistering. Those girls that fawn over Jay, professing their love with the same ease that Mal can hold a dagger to a throat. Jay’s clicking tongue, and that low fry to his voice when he’s chatting someone up. Everything is always so easy to him. He can wrap anyone around his finger with a wink.

His blade slams into her stomach. Mal pants, the budding pain in her side clearing her head. Jay’s standing above her like some heavenly deity.

“Best of four?” he offers.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“C’mon. Let’s take a break.”

Jay drops his sword and grabs his water bottle from his bag. Mal joins him, still gripping her sword, gulping down her water like a man in a desert.

“We should do this again soon,” Jay says.

“Tomorrow?”

“It’s the Valentine’s Ball tomorrow.”

Mal snorts. “Yeah, and?”

“I was gonna go.”

His words are coming too slow; too considered. Like when he used to talk about his dad, or a particularly bad Barge Day. Rehearsed. A guard dog who’s smelled danger, prowling at the sidelines.

Mal presents her blade. “En guarde!” she shouts, and Jay ducks her swing before scrambling over to his own sword.

“Really, Mal? Another sneak attack?”

“I’m keeping you on your toes.”

They waltz around the sports hall, the blades clashing and slicing and singing.

“We all agreed we weren’t going to go to the Ball,” Mal says, jabbing at Jay.

“We never agreed anything.”

Jay lands a blow. They are at the dockyard, with its rotting wooden pier and dead fish stench. The screeching of metal; the shouting; Mal’s heart hammering like the tide. Blood, and life. The roar in her ears. A dragon’s call. Body moving without a thought, as quick as a lightning strike. Not having to look behind her because she knows Jay is there.

“Exactly!” she says. “Why would we want to go to some stuffy Auradon ball?” Jay tries to say something but she ignores him. “Why would we care about Valentine’s Day? It’s corny, and over-commercialised, and a stupid excuse to make everything about love.”

Jay has her backed up against a wall. With no time to mount his mask, his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is escaping from his bun again. He looks just like he did on the Isle; none of his perfect prince act that fools Auradon. His sword hovers above her throat.

“Do you yield?” His voice is low.

Mal stares at him. Those eyes that have seen every part of her. All the blood; every smile; her pale skin in the dark Isle nights. The boy that has beheld her every action; weighed it all against his own understanding of the world, and decided that they slot together as easily as a bullet in a pistol.

“Who are you going with to the Ball?” Mal asks. She’s still clutching her sword. She could claim the upper hand, if she really wanted.

A grin creeps across Jay’s face. All those notes and heart-shaped lollipops. The giggling girls at his locker. He could pick any one of them. All of them so beautiful, in their sunset-coloured dresses. He could have anything he wanted.

“Well,” Jay says. “I was going to ask you.”

The sword’s point makes sure they keep their distance. Never too close. All touches so light; so fleeting, as if you could’ve mistaken them for a dream. As if you could’ve imagined the whole thing. All those nights in the hideout where the barrier of the body seemed thin, and the world became so small: just two kids who wouldn’t even dare knock knees.

So Mal shakes it all away with a laugh. “I’m not going to the Valentine’s Ball.”

Jay lowers his blade. Neither of them move. “Not even with me?”

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other girls who actually want to go with you.”

“I want to go with you.”

His words echo through the empty hall. His word is as steadfast as ever, the only opinion Mal will ever trust. Compass, anchor: Jay does it all.

Heralded here, Mal as real as the vast sky outside. Here, in his gaze, held aloft by trust where there shouldn’t be and compassion where there shouldn’t be and understanding where there shouldn’t be. A home for all her broken bones.

Mal’s lips unfurl into a smile. This ache in her chest. In her throat. Jay always being able to disarm her. Jay in every place she’s ever been. Jay as her shadow; her skin; her second self. A reflection in the mirror. The line of separation is nonexistent. Like the sun, like the moon: one cannot exist without the other.

#did this turn out way longer than i anticipated? absolutely #but i had a lot of fun writing it :) ive had to write a lot of things that Matter recently so it was nice to just. not have to try so hard #anyway anyway I LOVE THEM #i just think. mal being soooo annoyed that jay gets to play the carefree flirt #all these people that dont know him being 'in love' with him meanwhile mal can barely come to terms with her own feelings for him #and she communicates that through violence :)#and jay. jayyyyy. doesnt really want anything to do with these notes. like sure he likes the attention but he doesnt KNOW any of these girl #and they dont know him. and no one could know him like mal does :)#i also purposefully left the ending ambiguous teehee :) so i guess we'll never know what happened thumbs up emoji #descendants #jal #jay son of jafar #mal bertha #my fic #also i am not a fencer so everything i know is from the jay/lonnie right in d2 and google 👍 sorry to any fencers out there 👍#*fight

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diezmil10000 · 1 year

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hi 👋 you can call me diez or chisi

i am from spain and i like to draw lesbians. this is my main blog, if you're only here for my art and not for my reblogs you can follow my art-only blog

FAQ under the cut!

what software and brushes do you use?

i work on ibisPaint X and Krita on a Samsung Galaxy Tab S6 Lite. i use a lot of different brushes for lineart but mostly these ones:

are your commissions open?

no, but thank you for your interest!

will you someday sell your art through an online shop / convention?

no, probably never,,

can i repost your art / use it for edits?

i don't encourage it, but i don't mind. asking for permission and linking back to any of my social media would be appreciated too ♡ just don't use it for commercial purposes (sell merch, use as streaming layouts, etc)

how do you do X part of your drawing?

i recommend checking my speedpaints if you're curious, the name of the videos is the day i finished that drawing in YYMMDD format (as in, year-month-day). i also made a tag for art explanations, but if you still have a question feel free to send me an ask and i'll try my best to explain it

where did you learn anatomy?

i used to watch a lot of proko and sycra videos (on youtube), and also do gesture/figure drawings from photo references and k-pop dance practice videos

when / why did you start drawing?

i started taking it seriously when i was 15. seeing lesbian fanart was what caused my gay awakening and i felt like there wasn't enough of it, so i decided to get better

do you do traditional art?

i kind of dislike it. i have filled over 1000 A4 sheets and 7 sketchbooks over the years, but it's all quick doodles to practise or warm up. when i bought a tablet i could carry around i stopped drawing traditionally as often, but i still find myself drawing in my sketchbook from time to time when i want to sketch midlessly or get better at something.

do you draw nsfw art?

very rarely, but i only show it to my friends. i do consume a lot of nsfw content tho, just not in public 👍

how do you keep yourself motivated?

a combination of drawing only what i like and a strong desire of seeing more lesbian art. that's why i mostly make fanart and almost never participate in art trades or make art gifts. i also don't want to make a career out of drawing

have you gone to art school?

i'm currently doing a degree in design at college, but it has almost no correlation with the kind of art i share online. before that i never studied art academically

are you seriously a furry?

yes

are you seriously a communist?

i will always stand by the workers of the world and oppose capitalism on its fundamentals. you can call me a communist, socialist, leftist– i don't mind, i'm not informed enough to stick to one label

are you an anti or a pro shipper?

if someone seriously asks me this again i will go to their house and kill them

are you aware that you follow someone who did something problematic?

in most cases i am probably aware and it isn't that deep for me to unfollow them (please stop caring i don't know who you are)

do you have any ocs?

plenty! but i don't like to talk about them

can i be your friend / talk regularly with you?

i don't like to talk to strangers, but if i'm following you feel free to interact with me at any time~

what's the name of your cat?

yonyon ! she's a female cat but i treat her by any and all gendered terms

why have you disabled your DMs, story replies and sometimes comments?

because people in fandoms have no shame. i don't want to read weird comments, block overly friendly DMs or watch strangers have a public debate about my moral standards. i'm very thankful towards all of you who love my art tho, even if i can't read all of your positive thoughts!! also, there are plenty of ways to contact me, they're just not in plain sight 💋

#art explanations

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vigilskeep · 11 months

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What are Arthur and Minerva’s grimoires like?

minerva’s was originally a simple standard issue circle grimoire, a small leatherbound red book with the gold chantry insignia. i imagine all apprentices receive the same, with the option to upgrade to something more personalised once you’ve passed your harrowing and are worth spending unique resources on, but minerva was recruited so soon after hers that never got the chance. it became increasingly unwieldy to fill with her absurd number of new and generally illegal spells, and it’s a messy contrast of her neat, no-nonsense, increasingly small handwriting and every scrap of parchment that’s been bound into it by a mixture of stitching, magic and force of will

she hates the idea of replacing it, complaining it would be a waste of time to write it all out again, but truly unable to admit what’s most precious to her—irving’s careful notes, jowan’s childish doodles, an encouraging remark from karl, amell’s quick barely legible first floor library tomorrow fourth bell i have a new theory you will despise, a dry disdainful scrawl from morrigan on shapeshifting, anders’ advice on her single heal spell that scribbles a rendering of ser pounce-a-lot over wynne’s sharp cursive, and a few rough sheets of velanna copying out some of her spells to practise writing before she tries recording her dalish stories, offering spiky commentary as she does so. even the pages where minerva first began to work out the battlemage specialisation, which i hc she invented. for all her lauded pragmatism you can pry this old grimoire from her cold dead hands. it does get a shiny new blue and silver grey warden binding when it finally threatens to fall apart though

arthur did make it past apprentice, but even before that he had his grimoire, a white book emblazoned with the trevelyan family crest and motto. it was one of his last birthday gifts from his father. his handwriting is much less neat than minerva’s, an irrepressible fault from a poor mixture of trained cursive and impatience, which plagues him to no end when he tries to help lilith with her studies. the white isn’t the most practical for life as an apostate, he admits, and it does happen to have a smear of mud here and there, not to mention a stab through it from a templar’s blade with a little of his blood to boot, but he can’t throw the poor scuffed thing away just because it saved his life, can he? he’s pretty sure none of it is the blood he used for blood magic. and it’s basically still readable. vivienne despairs of him

#minerva surana #arthur trevelyan

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stealsh0e · 1 year

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RARRRRR INSIDE JOB PART 2 GUYS DID YOU HEAR LETS GOOOO!!!!!!!! ITS 4AM HWABAB I WANTED TO FINISH COLOURING THIS DOODLE!!!!

With part 2 being announced, I wanted to give my ocs a little redesign,, something to signify the time passing for them because HRGAGS WORKING UNDER RAND CANNOT BE GOOD FOR YOUR WELL BEINGGG. I have a deadline on uni work coming up, but after that I'll see about slipping in some quick full body refs for a part 1/2 comparison.

These three are just old doodles from last week I think? All their part 1 designs, and a fun lil comparison on seeing what I changed about their looks. My top part 2 drawing isn't perfect bc I'm absolute shattered but ☠️😫 I'll fix it eventually.

And a new inside job oc Cognitos very own Special Agent ORLA, she does her best to put the fun in funeral as she's taking improv comedy classes! Her line of work isn't very,, fun to say the least, so she tries to bring a little silliness into it. Some call it tone deaf, but she sees it as seizing the moment! Why shouldn't she practise her punchlines, the guy she's got at gunpoint doesn't have anywhere he needs to be 🙄🙄🙄🙄. She's a real sweetheart, big ole mushy gushy softie over here. Definitely makes it a point not let her work make her numb to the simpler joys of life.

While she's familiar with working for the secretive side of the government, she's still a fresh face at Cognito.

#inside job ocs #inside job oc #inside job #stealsh0eocs #4:11am WOWOWOQOOQ #god i need to.sleep #Orla and brett have defo bonded ober being the new ppl at cognito #orla arrived before brett but only by a few month's #Glenn Dolphmann and Orla also have a budding father daughter relationship so good for them #gigi is not a fan of orla trying to practise her comedy skits on her like GIRL not now its lunch break 😡☠️#too tired to think about the others rn #will make another post exploring her more shes so cute #stealsh0eart

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mi4016tomberry · 1 year

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Ouseburn Project 5

After spending some time trying and failing to get anything written, I finally got round to watching Ghost Hunters International so I fully understood what I was parodying. I should've done this a lot sooner because I wasted a lot of time trying to make something that would feel like these ghost hunting shows but had never watched an episode from start to finish. By doing so I learnt the general structure of these shows and the way in which their investigations are introduced, carried out and summarised to the owner of the haunted location. I watched two episodes and wrote down all the sorts of things that gave me an impression of the kinds of people that are on these shows and also the stupid things they say when reacting to a slight breeze.

youtube

I then decided to move onto doing the same sort of note taking with some snippets of another one of Alan Robson's ghost hunts which was just as ridiculous as the first one. I wrote down a couple of phrases which summed up his mannerisms and the quirks of his speech because I hadn't decided if I was going to use a Geordie accent for the character or not. After a basic summary of how the episodes progress, I went back to Ghost Hunters International to do a quick sketch of its lead investigator Robb Dermarest. I decided that I could have a little and large dynamic between the two, the sketch was again a quick practise doodle to get used to some of his features. Now I had two characters to investigate The Cumberland Arms and things were starting to come together but I needed to get to know the pub itself a little more.

Because I was working from home during Easter, I couldn't just pop in and take a look around The Cumberland Arms so I had to try and piece together the layout of the pub from photos people have uploaded online. I got some of the photos from google images, some from images tagged with Cumberland Arms on google maps and some from a hotel site showing the rooms available at the pub. These are the main images I used to piece together what the main rooms of the pub look like with a bedroom included in case I wanted them to investigate upstairs.

From these images I pieced together these floor plans which gives me a better impression of the pub and gives me a bit more freedom and inspiration when it comes to designing the pub for the backgrounds.

#Youtube

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territorial-utopia · 3 years

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you know when you pick up a crab, youre suppose to hold their body from the back so you dont get pinched

Yes. But she will still T-pose for dominance

#ask #niart #cider #don't ask for i do not know #just practising quick doodles #gianttiny #g/t #sizetumblr

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patronsaint-ofthedenial · 3 years

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I may not feel like that much but honestly, younger me would go bonkers over how talented I am

#jack's thoughts #like... i draw. i write poetry. i sing. i'm learning guitar. that's like... a LOT and younger me would be so impressed #i feel so bad for 12-13 year old me bc i thought i had a bad singing voice which is why i quit choir #but after joining again at my current school i realized that nope. i just have a deep voice #and my art has gotten so much better too. even the quick little doodles i make to illustrate everyday situations just for fun #my poetry? it's getting better and better. i can actually make it far more meaningful and the rhymes aren't as generic and simple anymore #and after taking guitar lessons i've gained motivation to practise and i'm starting to sound really good #i have HOBBIES and i ENJOY THEM and i feel GOOD

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lonionjon · 5 years

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*20190513

#doodle #*quick anatomy practise before bed!!#*been doing so many studie or anime style lately i wanted to just doodle smth like this #soul

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l-amplights · 2 years

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this was suppose to just be a quick doodle and then i got carried away and was like "ok ill practise colour stuff" and now i actually really like it whoops

#psychonauts #psychonauts razputin #razputin aquato #digital fanart #art #i still struggle to draw his eyes so much a #my art

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ttuesday · 3 years

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my i trouble u for some soft headcannons for the VDL boys?? 🥺 🥺 ur writing is amazing and always cheers me up 💕 💕

awwwwwwww

Arthur

Arthur’s very comfortable around you so sometimes when he’s sat next to you and doodling in his journal, he’ll start to sing to himself.

If you compliment his voice, he starts blushing and stutters over his words but he’s grateful for your praise.

One of Arthur’s favourite things is when you and him are both cuddling in bed and he tells you about his day. Usually he just rambles about something while ye fall asleep but it always relaxes him and it makes him feel like a normal person and not an outlaw.

Dutch

Dutch loves dancing with you. One night when ye were both in Saint Denis after a job, Dutch heard the trumpet player preforming. He asked if you’d dance with him. The street was quiet and it was as if it was just the two of you and the music.

Dutch never understands how you could ever feel insecure or self-conscious. While you sit on his bed, Dutch kneels in front of you and listens intensely as you vent. Afterwards he holds your hand and tells you every little thing he loves about you.

When you both wake up in the morning, Dutch likes to lazily give you some kisses before getting up to face the day.

Charles

One of Charles’s favourite things to do is kiss up your body. He starts at your leg, goes up your thigh, your torso, your chest and then your neck before finally reaching your lips. As he kisses along you, he mutters compliments about how amazing you are.

If you ever fall asleep by the campfire, Charles will carefully pick you up and carry you to bed.

Charles is so goddamn protective over you. Literally all you have to do is point at someone and Charles will throw them into Flat Iron Lake and go make sure you’re ok.

Micah

Micah absolutely HATES when people go at his things… but you’re the exception to that rule. If you’re sitting down at the campfire or helping Pearson cook the stew, Micah normally comes over and puts his hat on your head.

It’s his way of ‘subtly flirting’ and he encourages you to wear his hat, telling you it suits you and that it makes you look like a real outlaw.

Micah can get emotional when he’s drunk but it’s the one time he truly tells you how much you mean to him. He knows he’s lucky to have met you and no matter what, he wants you by his side forever.

John

We all know John isn’t the best at art but he loves practising his drawing skills but sketching pictures of you. Sure, most of his drawings look like Jack’s done them but it’s the thought that counts... right?

John loves relaxing with you. In the evening, he sits down under a tree with you and watches life go by. It’s very simple but it’s comforting.

John isn’t a fan of people going at his hair but he doesn’t mind it when you run your fingers through his hair. He’s even let you put a small plait into his hair once.

Bill

Bill purposely leaves his shirts lying around in the hopes that you’ll wear them. The sight of you in his shirt makes his heart soft and another part of his body very hard.

Bill never really had the time for baths but now that he’s dating you he makes sure to schedule in times to have a bath. Of course you’ll be in the bath too.

When he’s had a few drinks, Bill usually gets tired very fast so there has been a few times where he’s fallen asleep with his head resting on your lap.

Javier

Whenever you feel sad, Javier will try everything to cheer you up. He’ll sing to you, make some jokes, give you hugs and tell you funny stories about robberies he messed up in the past.

Javier was determined to help you learn the guitar when you first joined the gang. Yeah, he was using it as a way to spend more time with you and you didn’t learn much about the guitar but Javier still sees it as being a success.

If you ever get hurt, Javier prides himself on becoming Doctor Escuella and bandaging you up. Even if you just accidentally cut your finger while playing five finger fillet, Javier will take it seriously and take good care of you.

Sean

Sean loves to play fight with you. He brags about how amazing his fighting skills are and that he could show you a thing or two to help improve your skills. But of course he always lets you win.

You don’t need a blanket when you’re dating Sean. This man will literally sleep on top of you to keep you warm. I mean, he adores cuddling so he’ll fall asleep on you anyways but he says he does it to keep you warm.

He has tried to serenade you before. Sean paid Javier a few dollars to play the guitar while he loudly sang to you but Sean had to stop when Miss Grimshaw started yelling at him for being so noisy.

Hosea

Hosea absolutely adores soft kisses, especially when you’re both around camp and he sneakily gives you a quick kiss when no one’s looking.

Hosea has learned that patience is truly a virtue so whenever you’re stress or having a bad day, he knows it’s best to wait until you’re ready to vent instead of asking you a million questions about what’s wrong.

If you ever have any problems, all you need to do is tell Hosea. He gives you a small hug and reassures you that everything will be ok. And by the next morning, Hosea has somehow worked out your problem for you.

Lenny

When you can’t sleep, Lenny goes and gets you a blanket and your favourite book. He wraps the blanket around you both and reads to you until you finally drift off.

If he goes on a job away from camp and Lenny knows he’ll be away for a few days then he makes sure to leave little notes around camp for you to find. The majority of the notes are Lenny reminding you that he loves or a inside joke only you would understand.

Every morning Lenny goes and gets you tea/ coffee (whichever one you prefer, or maybe water if you’d prefer that).

#I hope these are soft enough ;-;#I always struggle with soft HCs for some reason lol #but ily and hope these are good #you’re my fave deputy #and my fave Caleb <3333 #rdr2 #headcanons #writings #arthur morgan #micah bell #dutch van der linde #john marston #bill williamson #javier escuella #charles smith #sean macguire #lenny summers #hosea matthews

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

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It was late.

It had been a very long day.

A very, very long day.

Scott had been held back at the danger zone by bureaucratic nonsense and a CEO throwing a fit over a couple of Thunderbirds parking in his carpark and the resultant damage to a nearby building.

The insensitivity and self-involvement had John reining Scott in over comms. It wasn’t like he was going to hit the guy, really, no matter how satisfying it might have been. But it had been a gruelling and messy rescue digging people out of a collapsed shopping mall.

He and his brothers had been digging for hours.

Eventually he had to call it and had sent Thunderbird Two back to base.

He had intended to follow shortly after, but…obstacles.

It was just past three in the morning when One streaked into a hover above Tracy Island. The shift to vertical flight was smooth and mostly subconscious. Scott felt his ‘bird in his bones.

As he lowered her through the gap left by the pool, a dim light from the lounge told him he wasn’t the only one awake.

He had his suspicions who it might be and that only had him working through post-flight faster.

It could be Grandma, but chances were it was Virgil waiting for him to come home.

He didn’t always do this. Only after the difficult ones.

And this one had been far from easy.

Scott hurried up to the locker room and, shucking his uniform, washed the sweat and grime from his skin. It felt good to be clean, an extra step further away from the tragedy they had left behind.

He didn’t bother getting dressed other than to throw on some pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. he would check on his brother, possibly grab a quick bite of food and a drink, and then hit the sack.

The house was quiet as he made his way to the lounge. No doubt Grandma and Virgil combined were a force that saw the younger Tracys safe in bed. Virgil likely then turned on his partner in crime and bundled her off as well.

He was determined like that.

Sure enough, a quiet step into the lounge and he found his brother in their father’s chair.

Asleep.

Dark curls let loose from their product by a long-ago shower were a hastily combed mess on his forehead as Dad’s chair held Scott’s brother as if it were its owner. The worn upholstery cradling worn out rescue operative ever so gently.

Scott’s bare feet made little sound as he stepped across the hardwood floor. It was a warm night. The open windows let in a soft breeze off the Pacific laced with the honey scent of flowering pōhutukawa trees.

Virgil muttered and shifted in his sleep.

The sound drew Scott’s attention back to his brother. The desk lamp was the only source of light in the room beyond the starlight far above. The moon had already set and outside was almost as dark as it got, the ocean murmuring in the distance.

There was paper on the desk.

Scott didn’t use much in the way of paper himself. Most of his work was digital, often holographic and as ecologically sound as he could get it.

Virgil, however, did keep a stash of different surfaces to art on in his studio. Paper was one of them. Obviously, some had made it out tonight.

Pencil sketches covered the white sheets. Eyes, half drawn faces. Gordon popped up in one corner, a familiar smile on his face. Thunderbird One had her grapple out and was lifting something half-drawn.

He found his own face staring out of the paper. His drawn self was obviously angry and glaring at a faceless head.

Scott arched an eyebrow at the obscenity scratched into the cartridge under the non-person creature.

Virgil had obviously not been happy that Scott had been held up.

There were other words on the page amongst the drawings. Virgil doodling and possibly venting in the process. Even Scott could see the emotion drawn in graphite.

He sighed.

As if agreeing, Virgil snorted and tried to turn over in the chair, a manoeuvre that wasn’t recommended.

Scott caught his brother under his arms as he tried to slide off the leather upholstery.

He earned a grunt for his efforts. Bleary brown eyes opened and stared up at him. “Sc-t?”

“Hey.” A soft smile. “You planning on camping out tonight?”

Another grunt and his brother tried to right himself in the chair. “You took too long. Why didn’t you sic John on ‘em?”

“I did. But not until tomorrow. John needs his sleep as much as you do.”

“Yes. Yes, he does. Tol’ him.” Virgil’s eyes drifted closed again and he began to sink back into the chair.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re going to bed, little brother.” Scott gripped Virgil a little tighter and pulled him up and out of the chair.

Various limbs pinwheeled a little and Scott ended up with his arms full of dopey brother, but he got the man on to his feet.

Virgil grumbled into his t-shirt and Scott let off a snort of a laugh. His biggest brother was hopeless when his sleep was disturbed. It was an ongoing source of prankdom – at the risk of the perpetrator’s life.

Hell, Gordon had managed to draw in a second pair of eyebrows on Virgil’s forehead once – while the man was supposedly awake and nursing his coffee.

The double-eyebrowed death monster that had resulted once enough coffee had been ingested was of legendary proportions. Grandma had literally roasted Gordon alive and a ban on markers on anyone’s faces had been instituted for all eternity.

Gordon was a multitalented artist, however, and simply switched mediums.

The honey had Scott blowing a circuit.

But dopey Virgil was a familiar and smile-inducing feature of the Tracy household.

Scott found himself grinning.

“Shuddup.”

Well, at least Virgil had managed a couple of neurons worth of thought.

Scott’s smile only got wider.

Virgil groaned and pushed his brother away and stumbled a little. “’M gonna bed.”

“You do that.” Scott had to stick out a hand and steady him as he wobbled into the side of the desk. “Need a hand?”

That triggered some incoherent grumbling that threatened bear territory. Scott couldn’t help himself and just grinned more as Virgil teetered away in the direction of the elevator.

The fact Scott had to save him from falling into the sunken lounge was probably a sign that the answer to his question was a definite ‘yes’.

A hand on his brother’s elbow prompted more grumbling, but the elbow wasn’t yanked away and by the time they made it into the elevator, Virgil had pretty much faceplanted himself into Scott’s shoulder.

The grin turned into a fond smile as he hit the button for the residential levels.

“You neeb togoto bed too.” It was muffled by the sleeve of Scott’s t-shirt.

“That’s the plan.”

“You bedda.”

Scott wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Or what?”

More incoherent grumbling.

Scott pulled him in a little tighter as the elevator doors opened.

It was like leading a zombie down the corridor, though Scott could easily empathise. He was looking forward to his own pillow as soon as he saw Virgil to his.

A yawn escaped.

His brother looked up as if the medic had bypassed his brain and booted in safe mode. “You need sleep. Go to bed.”

He gestured towards door to Virgil’s rooms. “After you.”

Virgil frowned. “You first.”

Scott rolled his eyes and, reaching around his brother, activated the door and, with a little manoeuvring, manhandled Virgil into his rooms.

“Hey!”

His hand returned to his brother’s elbow and he marched him into his bedroom, amid protests.

“You need to look after yourself.” Virgil finger was jabbed into Scott’s breastbone.

Was it possible for a human to have one half of his brain awake and the other asleep at the same time? Apparently, some birds could do that. Gordon had gone into great detail that year they spotted some migratory waders landing on their beaches mid-transit.

In any case, Virgil obviously wasn’t all there as Scott backed him up against the end of his bed and pulled back the covers. Virgil continued to nag Scott to bed with varying levels of coherence. Smiling, Scott gave his rambling brother a gentle nudge and their gentle giant went Gulliver, flat on his back.

“Scott?!”

The eldest yanked up the covers and muffled the outraged mutterings. “Yes, Virgil?”

But his protests began to fade away and, as Scott pulled down the covers a little and tucked them in, he realised Virgil’s eyes were already drooping again.

Dopey indeed.

He brushed curls off his brother’s forehead. “Sleep, Virg.”

“Mmm, Sco’, go bed.”

Softly. “I will.”

“Mmmhm.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile a little more as Virgil drifted off.

A final touch to his brother’s hair and Scott straightened, his body creaking enough to remind him, that yes, he needed his bed as well.

He slipped quietly out of Virgil’s room and secured the door. A glance down the corridor, a thought, and he walked quietly down to check on Gordon.

The last he had seen of his fish brother had involved sad eyes and concrete dust. A quiet step into his rooms and he found Gordon as he had suspected he would.

The aquanaut was tangled in his sheets and throttling his pillow.

There was a frown on his face.

Much practised manoeuvring and he managed to straighten the Fish out and untangle him from his bedclothes.

Half asleep protests were halted by a plushie squid that awake Gordon would claim to his death never left the mantle above his bed.

Scott knew better.

His little brother quietened, falling into a deeper sleep.

After that, Scott couldn’t help but check in on Alan. It was probably a fortunate thing, because opening the door found Alan asleep in front of it.

The littlest Tracy had a history of wandering in his sleep. Scott had it checked out and it was directly related to early childhood trauma. Which one was a game of pick one.

It was managed, but occasionally it flared up. One of the most common symptoms was climbing out of bed and sleeping on the floor. Sometimes, the piece of floor chosen was a little inconvenient.

Scott was just happy the piece chosen wasn’t a balcony. Five and now Eos had been tracking Alan while he slept for years and issued alerts if he should wander too far.

Scott slipped into the room sideways and, with cracking knees, lifted his little brother off the floor.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Alan shared his sleep type with Virgil and slept like the dead. So, it was easy to move him over to his specially plush rug and snuggle him up with a pillow and quilt from his bed.

Alan muttered something about Virgil pulling him up, possibly something to do with the day’s rescue.

Scott reached out and touched Alan’s cheek.

His little brother mumbled his name and leant into his hand.

Scott blinked. The emotion that suddenly gripped him was just a sign of how tired he was.

Letting go, he pushed to his feet and slipped from the room. In the corridor, he closed his eyes and leant back against the wall for a moment.

One to go.

He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. “Eos? You there?”

“Where else would I be?” Despite the smart-ass remark, her voice was quiet. Something she had learnt the hard way.

He ignored the comment. “John’s status?”

“John is currently in REM sleep. No signs of nightmare. Pulse regular, respiration as to be expected, body temperature 36.7 degrees Celsius. John is well, Commander.”

Scott let out a breath. “Thank you, Eos.”

“You’re welcome. Kayo and Mrs Tracy are asleep in their rooms, as is Hiram. Which is a concern, if I may say so, because he left Max on the ceiling.”

A blink. “Again?”

“It would appear so.”

Scott groaned. “Keep him out of the hangars this time.”

“I will try. But you know how he is.”

A grunt and Scott pushed himself off the wall. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good. Virgil was adamant you do exactly that.”

A frown. “Or what?”

“He said ‘or I’ll knock his ass out and drag him there myself’. His tone seemed humorous, however, John said it was a half-truth.” A pause. “Which half, I’m not sure.”

Another grunt. “Both halves, most likely.” To stave off a round of questioning at that, Scott quickly followed up with, “Tracy Island out.”

The house fell quiet after that and he let his shoulders drop, rolling his neck as he made his way to his own quarters. In his rooms lay freedom. A moment where he could just be himself, relax and sleep.

Sleep.

The door clicked shut and exhaustion caught up with him. It was a matter of steps to his bedroom, a modicum of the last of his energy to shove the covers aside, and he let himself fall face first into his pillow.

His body melted into the mattress.

It had been a shitty rescue, but his family was all home, safe, uninjured and resting.

He could let go.

So he did.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #nuttyfic reblog #a bit recent I know #but it is fluffy #and has sleepy Virg

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