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writers-potion · 26 days

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hey, can you do a circles of hell post like the heaven one?

The Nine Circles of Hell 😈🔥

Dante Alighieri’s The Divine Comedy is divided into 3 parts: Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso. The Inferno presents us with the popular concept of Nine Circles of Hell.

Ante-Inferno

Think of this as the Ground Lobby for Hell.

The Gates of Hell have this inscription: "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate" (Abadon all hope, ye who enter here)

Souls who couldn't choose between good and evil reside here, tortued and chased by hornets and snakes. (Seems like indecision is also a sin, haha)

There are angels here as well who chose to be on the side of neither good and evil, and they're also tormented.

After crossing the river on the boundary for hell with Charon, you meet the first level of hell:

First Circle: Limbo

The first circle is home to the unbaptized and virtuous pagans, who simply didn't know that Christ exist.

These souls have lived morally, but failed to accept Christiantiy as a religion

No physical torture, but waves of sadness flow through the souls, lamenting the fact that they're close to Heaven but aren't in it.

Retirement community of the afterlife: Hippocrates, Aristotle, Virgil, Homer, Horace, Ovid, Socrates, Plato, Saladin

Second Circle: Lust

The wind-buffeted second circle of Hell is the final destination of the lustful and adulterous.

Souls are blown about in a violent storm, without hope of rest. They are torn in a raging storm and thrown against rocks.

Cleopatra and Helen of Troy were among its most famous residents. Francesca da Rimini and her lover Paolo.

Third Circle: Gluttony

Those who overindulge themselves are forced to lie in vile, freezing slush, guarded by Ceberus

Unable to move, they lay on the ground forever while being hurled with sweage and dirt.

Ciacco of Florence is here.

Fourth Circle: Avarice & Prodigality

This section of Hell is reserved for the money-grubbers and overly materialistic among us. Those who hoarded money come here.

The greedy battle each other, forever rolling giant boulders on each other. When they push the heavy weights, it rolls back and the process starts all over again.

Plutus guards them.

Fifth Circle: Wrath & Sulllenness

Dante tells us that the wrathful and angry souls of this circle spend eternity waging battle with each other on the banks of River of Styx.

The sullen are forced to breath below the dark waters, chocking on the black mud derived from the world above.

Fillippo Argenti is here.

───〃★ Door to Lower Hell: gate guarded by fallen angels ★〃───

Sixth Circle: Heresy

Heretics spend eternity entombed in flaming crypts in the sixth circle. Think of a graveyard with burning tombstones.

Heresy is the sin of having beliefs opposed to the Christian belief, which can be a little vague in modern times.

Florentines Farinata degil Uberti and Cavalcante de' Cavalvanti are here.

Seventh Circle: Violence

The Seventh Circle is sub-categorized into 3 smaller rings: Oter, Middle and Inner.

The outer ring is filled with blood and fire and reserved for murderers and thugs. Centaurs guard the Outer Ring, shooting criminals with arrows.

The middle ring is where, according to Dante, suicide victims go. They’re transformed into trees and fed upon by harpies.

The inner ring, a place of burning sand, is reserved for those who are violent against God and nature (blasphemers)

Eighth Circle: Fraud

Geryon, a creature symbolizing fraud, welcomes you to the eighth circle. He has a human face, a scorpion tail and giant wings.

The eighth circle is subdivided into ten trenches, where you’ll find con artists of all sorts. These trenches are called Malebolge (Evil pockets) and each contains different types of criminals who commited fraud.

Panderes and seducers, flatterers, sorcerers, false prophets, liars, thieves, people who created false money, counterfeits, impersonators, schismatics, etc. reside here.

Ninth Circle: Treachery

The final circle is a frozen wasteland occupied by history’s greatest traitors. Betrayers of are frozen in a lake of ice, and most of Satan's body is also immersed in ice.

It is divided into 4 stages: (1) Caina - traitors to family (2) Antenora - traitors to nation or politicians (3) Ptolomaea - hosts to betray theiur guests (4) Judecca - those to betray their lords/masters.

In the very center, Satan punishes the greatest betrayers of all time: Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Christ, and Brutus and Cassius who betrayed Julius Caesar.

Satan has three mouths, each of which eats a specific person: with left and right devouring Brutus and Cassius and the centre mouth devouring Judas.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

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connorsnothereeither · 2 months

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No one asked for this, but I think about it often 🧍

Ulysses smells of sea salt and sand, with the harsh cling of iodine and formaldehyde.

Dan smells of worn leather and damp fur, steeped in a petrichor-like scent of damp earth, and a distant, gentle woodsmoke.

Leopold smells of warm gas fireplaces, and damp city streets after snow melts to slush, steeped in gin and a faint motor oil, with an underlying hint of blood.

Virgil smells of old book pages and black tea, of oil lamps and cedar wood, woolen coats and linen book cloth.

#fable smp #fablesmp #fablesmp ulysses #cantripped #cantripped dan thorns #terramortis smp #terramortis leopold #skybound smp #bound smp #bound smp virgil

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oliversdumbshit · 3 months

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Sanders Sides Incorrect Quote #3

Virgil: So, what's it like living with Remy? Roman: He once referred to sand as "heterosexual glitter." Virgil: ... Roman: I love him so much.

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #ts sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #rosleep #romanxsleep #romanxremy #sanders sides incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect sanders sides #ship incorrect quotes

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checkoutmybookshelf · 5 months

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You Have My Attention: Anne of Green Gables First Lines

The icon of Canadian girlhood needs no introduction, as Anne of Green Gables is a global phenomenon at this point. What those of you who read the first book at like age ten and then didn't bother exploring further might not know, however, is that LM Montgomery wrote a whole Anne series. So how did she catch a reader's attention? Let's find out!

"Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies�� eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through those woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade; but by the time it reached Lynde’s Hollow it was a quiet, well-conducted little stream, for not even a brook could run past Mrs. Rachel Lynde’s door without due regard for decency and decorum; it probably was conscious that Mrs. Rachel was sitting at her window, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from brooks and children up, and that if she noticed anything odd or out of place she would never rest until she had ferreted out the whys and wherefores thereof."

-- Anne of Green Gables

"A tall, slim girl, 'half-past sixteen,' with serious gray eyes and hair which her friends called auburn, had sat down on the broad red sandstone doorstep of a Prince Edward Island farmhouse one ripe afternoon in August, firmly resolved to construe so many lines of Virgil."

-- Anne of Avonlea

"'Harvest is ended and summer is gone,' quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily."

-- Anne of the Island

"(Letter from Anne Shirley, B.A., Principal of Summerside High School, to Gilbert Blythe, medical student at Redmond College, Kingsport.)

Windy Poplars,

Spook's Lane,

S'side, P. E. I.,

Monday, September 12th.

DEAREST:

Isn't that an address!"

-- Anne of the Windy Poplars

"'Thanks be, I’m done with geometry, learning or teaching it,' said Anne Shirley, a trifle vindictively, as she thumped a somewhat battered volume of Euclid into a big chest of books, banged the lid in triumph, and sat down upon it, looking at Diana Wright across the Green Gables garret, with gray eyes that were like a morning sky."

-- Anne's House of Dreams

"'How white the moonlight is tonight!' said Anne Blythe to herself, as she went up the walk of the Wright garden to Diana Wright's front door, where little cherry-blossom petals were coming down on the salty, breeze-stirred air."

-- Anne of Ingleside

"It was a clear, apple-green evening in May, and Four Winds Harbour was mirroring back the clouds of the golden west between its softly dark shores. The sea moaned eerily on the sand-bar, sorrowful even in spring, but a sly, jovial wind came piping down the red harbour road along which Miss Cornelia’s comfortable, matronly figure was making its way towards the village of Glen St. Mary."

-- Rainbow Valley

"It was a warm, golden-cloudy, lovable afternoon. In the big living-room at Ingleside Susan Baker sat down with a certain grim satisfaction hovering about her like an aura; it was four o'clock and Susan, who had been working incessantly since six that morning, felt that she had fairly earned an hour of repose and gossip."

-- Rilla of Ingleside

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loganslowdown4 · 1 year

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*at the beach*

Roman: *runs by accidentally kicking up sand*

Roman: Oh! Crap! Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to ruin your date.

Logan: *wiping sand off* No harm done. We’re not on a date though, we’re just friends. But thanks for not assuming, because we are both gay.

Roman:

Roman: *turning* Sorry, what’s your name?

Virgil: Uh… Virgil?

Roman: Virgil I am so sorry this dumbass is too dense to realize he’s on a date with you

Logan: What? What do you mean?? What does HE MEAN??? Is this a date????

Virgil: I mean, yeah. I kinda hoped it was.

Logan: *internal panic*

Roman: Welp, my work here is done

#the gay panic is real #Roman is a klutzy Cupid lol #thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #ts roman #incorrect sanders sides #ts logan #ts virgil #Virgil sanders #analogical #ts analogical #beach AU

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delimeful · 8 months

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to know that song (and all its words) (9)

warnings: injury, lack of self care, fear, misunderstandings, a little bit of kidnapping, mistrust, cliffhanger

The dread set in as soon as Virgil dragged himself back to consciousness.

Even before he really knew what was going on, the sensation weighed heavy on him. His memories of the past three cycles were smeared into vague undefined blur, like a sand sculpture lapped at by seafoam, but the moment he opened his eyes, a distinct sense of foreboding curled up in his lungs and refused to leave.

The strangest part was that nobody else seemed to feel the suffocating weight of it.

The Humans seemed almost glued to his bedside, swapping places so smoothly that the chair set by his bedside was almost never unoccupied. He would have suspected it was a more intensive effort to keep him under watch if it weren’t for the complete lack of actual guarding going on.

(Half the time Heartfelt came in, they fell asleep with their head pillowed on their arms within a quarter-tide of sitting down. Not exactly strict warden behavior.)

It was strange. The Humans hadn’t quite reverted to their former hunted postures and exhausted eyes, but they’d unarguably been impacted by the invasion. There was a focused tension to their movements, murmured conversations in halls, an alert sort of attentiveness that they wore like a second skin.

And yet, they hadn’t turned any of that tightly-drawn energy on him.

Maybe if things were the same as before, with their weird unspoken agreement that Virgil would perform his role and not do anything stupid, and in turn they wouldn’t make the last however-long period of his life miserable with restrictions, this wouldn’t be so stressful.

But things weren’t the same. Virgil’s only useful skills involved having full use of both arms, and he’d been stripped of each and every one the moment his bone snapped on impact with the floor.

His life had been dependent on their need for someone small enough to fly the vessel for them this entire time, and now he couldn’t pilot.

They should be furious, frantic, trying to find solutions and making demands of him. Frankly, they should’ve just left him to die of shock once they realized what had happened and what it meant.

Instead, they’d settled him in the medbay with just about every medical device that might be even peripherally useful strewn about, constantly checked the information on his vital monitors, and the closest thing to a demand he received was the frequent questioning about how he felt and if he was in any pain or needed anything.

He didn’t know why they bothered asking, since they gave him dubious, disbelieving looks almost every time he brushed the question off. It wasn’t like they were his crewmates or anything, so who had tipped them off to his dislike of pain meds? They’d never even seen him injured before! Could Humans smell pain or something?

Stars and seas, he hoped not. His current plan was to bank on their ignorance of how long Ampens took to heal and get back in the pilot’s chair as quickly as possible, but that required they also be ignorant of the finer details of his injury. He’d be utterly screwed if they could somehow sense every time he re-agitated his fracture.

He would actually get started on that plan, too, except it required he was left alone long enough to actually test out how bad the pain was and sneak over to the piloting capsule, and that simply hadn’t happened even once in the past cycle of him being mostly-conscious.

Virgil felt insane for even thinking it, but the facts added up: The Humans were being clingy.

It was more subtle than expected, but once he realized, it became impossible to deny. Between the three of them, Virgil was receiving the same amount of fretting and hovering as a fledgling under the care of a first-time mother.

Sure, he’d heard rumors of Humans having fierce protective instincts, especially when it came to their young, but this level of brooding was ridiculous! Virgil was a fully-fledged adult, not a member of their pack, and completely capable of taking care of himself.

Now, he just had to make sure they knew that. Ideally without making them remember that he was currently a worthless liability to them.

Totally not stress-inducing at all, as Janus would say.

He waited until the next time Noisy was the only one watching him, since Heartfelt might not understand exactly what he was trying to say and Square looked far too exhausted and intense for him to feel good about his odds of directly asking to break a rule.

“You guys are smothering me,” he said, too wrung-out to dance around the issue. “Can I just have some time to myself, already?”

He forced himself not to bristle at the reluctant tinge that automatically sprung up to Noisy’s aether, both so the conversation didn’t escalate and because his feathers were already borderline painful from lack of grooming.

“It could be dangerous,” Noisy said, crossing his arms. “You’re not fully healed, and there’s—,” he trailed off, muttering a few phrases in Human like he was searching for a word.

Virgil struggled not to scrape his nails together in irritation. They were lucky he was going the negotiation route. If it had been his crewmates, he would already be well into biting people by now.

“I need a break,” he tried again, and then reluctantly added, “I’ll show you my pigment collection. But you can’t use them all!”

He gestured to the badly smeared and faded pigment that was still coating the downy small feathers around his eyes, a substance that his noisiest Human had asked about over and over.

Noisy brightened in delight, undeterred by Virgil’s tacked-on condition, before hesitating at the obvious bribe.

Man, they really were invested in keeping an eye on him, weren’t they? Noisy had been unbearably annoying about trying to get his hands on some pigment powder (he didn’t even have feathers?!) for ages, and now that he was being offered the opportunity, he was torn? It didn’t make any sense.

“Please,” Virgil was desperate enough to add.

“Okay, okay,” Noisy said, the tension in his aether snapping and settling into worried resignation. “I’ll go to sleep room. But only for a little while. And door open, so call and I’ll hear, okay?”

Somehow, it sounded more like a reassurance than a threat. Virgil shook himself, trying not to let stupid idealistic misinterpretations throw him off. He agreed hurriedly and waved Noisy out of the room with an impatience that clearly amused him.

Finally.

—

After a painstakingly slow climb out of the medcot, Virgil found he was actually extremely glad he hadn’t tried to remove his bulky sling just yet.

He’d started overheating from the strain before he even passed through the medbay doors. By the time he reached the cockpit, his ruff feathers were visibly vibrating from gular fluttering and his hand pads were well past damp.

He’d definitely need a dust bath after this.

To his surprise, the entrance was blocked off by a considerably large pile of materials. The array was a mishmash of everything, some items looking alarmingly expensive while others were barely more than scrap.

“What…,” he muttered, trying to puzzle out why this latest obstacle to his plan had been placed here, of all places.

A head popped up from behind the scrap. “Oh, thank Khiqea!”

Virgil made a short little alarm whistle, nearly toppling over as he scrambled back a few steps. “What are you doing on my ship?!”

The alien— they had curling mandibles and stout horned shoulders, Virgil recognized the species but couldn’t recall the name— stared at him with shiny black eyes for a long moment before speaking again, now with a slight buzz. “Your Humans kidnapped me here.”

They shuffled to the side slightly and lifted their arm, revealing that it was cuffed to… was that a medbay chair? And a chunk of medbay flooring?!

Did those idiots even know how much internal ship furnishing cost?

“Oh, I am gonna kill them,” he muttered to himself, and blinked when there was a high placating chitter from the stranger.

Right. Kidnapping victim. That was super bad, actually. “Why’d they kidnap you?”

“Did you not—,” the stranger cut themself off, before continuing in shorter, sharper words. “I was the only nonessential medic on the Hanssloane. It was part of the deal.”

The raiders. His injury. Some of it was coming back now. The Humans had abducted a whole person to make sure he didn’t die from his wounds? Why?

Instead of blurting any of that out, Virgil glanced down at where they were holding a clipboard and a simple welding tool. “You seem a little under equipped for a medic. Are you trying to bandage scrap metal, or what?”

“I— I know how to engineer,” they said hurriedly, their limbs drawing in defensively. “I have other uses! I can work for as long as you need, just— please.”

Well, if that wasn’t a familiar refrain, Virgil didn’t know what was.

“You’re a multitalented guy. Got it,” he said shortly. He wasn’t going to make any promises he couldn’t keep, but if they were so willing to talk… “What’s your name?”

“I go by Sveve,” they responded, running through a surprising number of politeness signals for a raider.

“Great,” Virgil replied, pretending not to notice the expectant pause. “Have you seen the other Humans around?”

If he wanted answers, he’d have to get them himself.

Sveve did that silent-surprise stare again, though this one was shorter. “Neither are onboard at the moment, Captain. They’re retrieving more machinery from the Hanssloane.”

Virgil resisted the urge to frown automatically at the formal address— the only time his crewmates called him that was when they were poking fun at him. Belatedly, the rest of the sentence registered.

“We’re still attached to the raider ship?” he asked, half horrified and half incredulous.

“The Humans negotiated the deal without you,” Sveve said, the words accompanied by a low click-click of realization. “They’re rogue agents. Grenghal’s balls, I’m so screwed.”

Virgil didn’t have time for their crisis. He was too busy having his own crisis.

“What was the deal? What happened while I was out?”

“You really don’t know. You weren’t there for the slaughter. And it’s not like you can trust me.” Sveve tapped their mandibles together consideringly, and then turned to check both sides of the hall before switching to a whispering buzz.

“There’s only one Human aboard now, so it might be the only chance you get. Check the footage of our boarding if you want to know the truth. Once you see it, you’ll understand the kind of monsters they really are, what they’ll do to me, to you. If we work together, we can escape.”

Virgil’s antennae pressed back as he shied away from the intent plea, but the paranoid part of him couldn’t help but perk up.

The records room was connected to Nav, more of a closet than anything. If the Humans really weren’t onboard, this might be the only chance he’d get to check without Square in the way.

Slowly, wordlessly, he edged around the pile of junk and continued down the hall towards Navigation.

He felt Sveve’s eyes follow him until he passed the curve, a familiar desperation in them that he hadn’t let himself dwell on.

He moved as quietly as possible, straining for any trace of Square or Heartfelt as he approached Nav. The Humans could be deathly silent when they wanted, but it was a habit they hadn’t kept up all the time.

The corridor was silent, and when he plucked up his courage and peered into the navigation room, it was empty, the lights low from a lack of detected motion.

Virgil took a deep breath and smoothed down his ruff as best he could, steeling himself. This was his last chance to turn back.

No. He needed to know.

He let his steps grow quicker and quicker as he crossed the room, eyes flicking from place to place warily as though Square could somehow wriggle out of an Ampen tunnel and descend upon him.

The records room door opened easily at his touch, and he let out a tense breath as he closed it behind himself. It was soundproofed, so he was as safe as he could be, for the moment.

The camera feed logs were all present and untampered with. It took only a few moments to locate the timestamps for the cycle the raiders had attacked, and he wound it back to shortly after his arm had snapped, feeling a little ill at the sight.

He ignored the urge to let it go, to ignore the gaps in his memory and the new hostage, to try and return to the status quo. Whatever he was missing, he would find out now.

He reached forward and started the footage.

#sanders sides fic #to know that song and all its words #tktsaaiw #space au #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #my writing #writing #sorry for late posting again

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gumnut-logic · 2 months

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The Hurt

Thanks to @idontknowreallywhy for reading through ::hugs::

Dumps and runs.

-o-o-o-

He’d left his dirty uniform on a bench in the locker room.

The random thought surfaced amongst a sea of emotion he couldn’t afford right now.

He was clean at least, hair still wet from the shower, and standing at the edge of the caldera. His feet were half covered in warm sand slowly losing the heat of the day.

The water lapped rhythmically against the shore and his heartbeat attempted to meet it, slowing, only to be caught up in the emotion again.

It thudded in his chest.

Slow.

Rhythmic.

He closed his eyes and focussed on what he could hear.

Again, the water, gentle, repetitive, forever.

The wind. Rustling trees. The red blossoming pōhutukawa behind him, its sound more the roar of a distant crowd than the yapping of the palm leaves high above.

Birds.

He counted three…no, four different kinds at least. The ever-present petrels and squabbling tui, silver gulls and a distant sea eagle.

Water seeping into the sand.

The sudden consumption of them all as Thunderbird One swooped in above the Island and righted herself in a roar of engines as she disappeared into her hangar, the pool swallowing her and her soundscape in one.

A moment of silence…

Before the Island came alive again. The petrels protesting, the tui defending their trees…

The wind cooling a tear on his face.

Virgil scrubbed his cheek, wiping it away and stabilising himself.

He started the ritual again.

The sand between his toes, the water lapping…

He let his shoulders settle and his eyes close.

Focus.

On the music.

Just another day. Just another shitty day. He did everything he could. He saved lives. It was done.

Images flashed, and he gasped his eyes open again.

Water rippling across the caldera greeted him.

He followed the waves, tracking them, predicting interference and pattern only to have wind wipe it all away.

It was just another day.

He had done everything he could.

That was the sense of the matter, the logic and reality.

But it hadn’t been enough and it hurt regardless.

He let himself fold down onto the sand, his butt hitting the soft mix of pulverised rock and coral, his elbows landing on his knees and his head in his hands.

It really wasn’t worth getting upset about. It wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last and he should be stronger than this.

Stronger.

All the excuses, the psychological training, the reasoning behind his reaction…it was all there.

Yet, still it hurt.

He scrubbed away another tear.

Goddamnit.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped.

“Hey.”

Scott.

Concerned blue eyes stared at him a moment before his brother sat down on the sand next to him.

There was only the noise of the Island for a long moment.

“Do you think there are more nests this year?”

Virgil blinked. Looking up he found Scott staring across the caldera at Mateo and the petrel colony there.

Virgil stared himself for a bit. “Maybe?” A frown. “I haven’t done the count this month yet.”

He battled to remember the date. Was it today, yesterday or tomorrow?

He had no idea.

He should probably fix that.

“I found Dad out here once.”

Virgil’s eyes darted back to his brother. “What?”

“Early on. You weren’t here at the time. You and Gordy were on the mainland for one of his swim meets, I think.” Scott looked down and dragged a finger through the loose grains of sand between his knees. “It was one of our earliest rescues gone bad, and I have to say, that I swear he was speaking to Mom.”

“What?”

Scott arched an eyebrow. “He did that sometimes. When things were really bad.” His brother looked away. “And that was definitely a bad one.”

Virgil opened his mouth, but Scott held up a hand.

“Don’t start cranking up your medical expertise, Virg, he was fine. It was just a coping mechanism. We got it checked out. Dad was fine.”

Virgil pressed his lips together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His big brother shrugged. “Nothing to tell. Rarely happened. Maybe twice the whole time he was here.”

The ‘was’ hurt.

But then that was a simple hurt of existence.

“Why are you telling me now?”

Scott sighed and wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “You’ve had a bad one. It’s okay to be upset.”

Virgil looked away and didn’t answer.

“There is no shame in caring.”

And there it was, the knife that cut through all the reasoning his brain could throw at him.

His throat tightened. “I shouldn’t care so much.”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be my brother. You wouldn’t be you.”

Another tear crept out the corner of his eye and he rubbed at it.

The arm around his shoulder tightened and Scott curled his hand into Virgil’s hair, guiding his head to his shoulder. “It’s okay, little brother, it’s okay.”

Of course, that was enough to break all the control he could manage and before he knew it, he was sobbing on his big brother’s shoulder. Scott had his arms around him and everything was messy and embarrassing and god, it all hurt.

Reassuring words and a hand rubbing his back. Somehow he was now five and being hugged by his big brother because he’d fallen over and scuffed his knee.

And all those people had died.

All those children.

Emotion swamped everything.

-o-o-o-

Eventually the wind returned, the water lapped at the shore and the tui started another argument in the pōhutukawa tree at the head of the beach.

Scott was stroking his hair.

Virgil swallowed and pushed himself upright.

His big brother did not let go, his hand still on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil scrubbed his face. “Shit, sorry.”

Scott’s voice was painfully soft. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

There was something in his brother’s timbre and Virgil looked up at him.

Scott was intent on Virgil, but there was pain in those eyes and the evening light was highlighting the greys in his auburn hair.

Virgil grabbed his brother and hugged him ever so tight.

“Virg?” It was half strangled.

Virgil didn’t answer.

He just returned the love.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #earth and sky #nuttyfic #nutty has a stressful day so Virg gets it #sorry Virg #thunderangst #hugs #lots of hugs #angst #poor virg

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astranite · 5 months

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Rest

Fluff, Earth and Sky, plus Scott getting a nap. A.K.A Virgil gets Scott a weighted blanket.

EDIT!!! I used one of the Fluffember 2023 prompts in here but completely forgot to tag or mention that. Prompt is "Say: "Thank you for...""

A little inspired by the fic in where Virgil gets a weighted blanket (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042224 Insomnia by chidoriXblossom), mine written because I think Scott would like one too. And we all know he needs more sleep. Plus soft furnishings!Scott!!!

Also- "This will be only like 500 words max," my muse lied.

So, another fic! Mostly was written on the bus on my phone, while wandering around the kitchen looking for something to eat yesterday, and on notes on my laptop when the Aussie internet and phone service met its untimely demise today.

@idontknowreallywhy With the last 2 paragraphs and hopefully less typos!! Hope you're feeling better too. SOFT FURNISHINGS!SCOTT!

-----

“Got you a present,” Virgil said, holding out a package wrapped in shiny blue paper.

Scott took it without hesitation, utterly unprepared, because this was Virgil, not Gordon or Alan or any other trouble makers.

He staggered at the sudden, unexpected weight. Scott kept fit for international rescue and lifted more than this on any given day, but dropped into his hands where Virgil made it look like nothing. Well, he nearly dropped it.

Just as Virgil lunged to snatch it back from the bounds gravity, Scott got a firmer grip on the package and hefted it up.

Virgil stepped back, grinning, nearly as excited as the day they sent Two to space. “Open it, Scotty!”

Scott dutifully sat down on the couch with the package in his lap, slipping his fingers beneath the tape.

“But why, why today?” Scott asked.

It wasn’t Christmas. He determined it was not his birthday after quickly counting out what month was it anyway because he’d lost track with how busy he’d been lately. He wasn’t forgetting something else was he? Some important event that wasn’t in his calendar? Oh damn, was he supposed to have gotten his brothers presents too?

Virgil sat down by his side.

“You’re alright Scott, no occasion. Present’s just because.” Virgil smiled.

Scott bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s in a wordless act of affection.

Then he turned to the shiny present he held, excitement bubbling up.

What could it be?

The package was soft, moving about fluidly within the paper, which would usually bring to mind something along the lines of an item of clothing. But whatever it was was far too heavy for that. Even allowing for thick denim or mission suit material, but Virgil wouldn’t wrap up a routine update, and that sort of engineering generally came under Brains’ department.

With the strange slithery, many grains of sand running over each other noise it made whenever it shifted, at this point Scott would expect a prank, even from Virgil.

Except that Virgil was right next to him, just as genuinely happy to be seeing him open the present as Scott was to receive it. Plus his brother was a frankly awful liar and trying to cover for it by, say, hiding his face in his hands while suspiciously giggling behind them had never worked once, for the record.

So Scott shook the package vigorously, when Virgil didn’t stop him assuming it was non breakable, then gave up on the whole guessing game to get to the real deal.

He tore the paper off with a grin, foregoing attempts to be neat about it because he just wanted to see what it was.

Copious amounts of blue fabric poured into his lap. Heavy, weighted fabric, trying to slither to the floor as he grabbed at it and pulled it up.

The thing was soft too, fluffy on one side and more fuzzy on the other, Scott discovered as he ran his hands over it.

A quilted blanket of some kind, a big one too. Scott hefted it and spread it across himself and Virgil to lay it out so he could see it.

It was— oh, “A weighted blanket?” he asked Virgil.

Virgil nodded, smiling widely, “I thought you’d like one of your own, since you seem to like mine so much.”

That was true. Even on the last movie night when Virgil had brought out his own green, wonderfully soft monstrosity of a blanket that practically required an exosuit to lift, Scott had ended up sharing it with him.

He never would have bought one for himself, he didn’t need it, but Virgil has seen and he had gotten him one.

Scott threw his arms around his brother and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you for— for everything,” into Virgil’s flannel.

Virgil hugged him tight. “Glad you’re happy, Scooter.”

Scott swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

He stayed in the hug, letting himself lean on Virgil.

Eventually he pulled away, bumping his forehead with Virgil’s briefly in another thanks, before flopping backwards onto the sofa.

He dragged the blanket over his body, snuggling down beneath it, to try it out properly.

Virgil tugged the edges out straight, patting Scott on the leg where he’d slung them over Virgil’s lap to fit onto the couch.

“‘M not moving ever again,” Scott mumbled.

The blanket’s weight pressed down on him comfortingly, like the soothing pressure of a tight hug. The fabric was soft, fluffy and warm, but not too hot for their tropical island. It covered his feet even when he pulled it right up to his chin.

Scott was in heaven.

When he shut his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation sink in, Virgil snickered. “G’night, Scotty.”

Scott opened one eye to glare, then the other. He was not going to sleep. He was just getting comfortable, that was all.

He reluctantly removed one arm from beneath the blanket, wriggling his fingers towards Virgil. He could still work if Virgil would just pass him his tablet.

Heaving a put upon sigh, Virgil reached for the side table and gave Scott his tablet, picking up his own sketch book.

Scott opened his emails, hiding a smile. The blue eyes act still worked on his brother, evidently.

Something, something, board meeting. Something, something, product development. He flicked a couple marked urgent open which weren’t even particularly important and shouldn’t have been flagged for him. He forwarded them on to be delegated to the correct people.

Learning that he didn’t have to do absolutely everything had been a long process, and he was getting better at it.

Scott continued through his bottomless inbox, so warm and comfortable he wasn’t even particularly annoyed with the uptight business people he had to deal with. Or at least he was minorly irritated as opposed to resisting the urge to throw his tablet across the room. He ran his free hand across the soft material, wound in the fluffy fabric while his other held his tablet.

The blanket was working wonders. Quiet scratchings of pencil on real paper from Virgil did aid his calm somewhat too. But the weighted blanket was definitely going down in his favourite items of soft furnishings. Trust Virgil to have gotten it for him and gifted it just because.

Scott’s blinks got slower and slower, and maybe he’d just rest his eyes for a moment, snuggled up on the couch with his brother and his new weighted blanket.

Virgil looked up from his sketchbook at his brother. The permanently stressed crinkles between Scott’s brows were smoothed out, his face lax, his whole body a loose jumble of limbs instead of a wound up ball of tension. His arm arced gracelessly off the edge of the couch, tablet fallen on the floor beside it. His other hand was still gripping the blue blanket, hanging onto it even in his sleep.

Because Scott was asleep. In the middle of the day, finally catching up on countless missed hours, even in the open lounge room, fast asleep with no signs of nightmares.

A line of pencil on thick drawing paper, and Virgil begun to sketch Scott’s sleeping form, seeking to capture such a rare moment. He had no where to be, a mug of coffee beside him, and art supplies at hand so he was content. Plus he had his big brother close, legs still in Virgil’s lap, and no way he was moving to risk disturbing Scott, even if he wanted to, which he certainly didn’t.

Virgil smiled down at Scott, infinitely glad his present of a blue weighted blanket was comforting his brother and letting Scott get some much needed and well earned rest.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderfluff #earth and sky #soft furnishings!scott #astrawrite #fluffember #fluffember2023

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