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edutainer2022 · 11 days

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A cold, vicious cyclone caught me unawares in the middle of the city the other day, right as I decided it was too hot for the coat. So, naturally, Scott gets under the weather in NYC, quite literally (and is being a stubborn doofus about it). It's an Earth and Sky fluff, but in the end, John decided he wanted in, so Earth and Star have a good hearty chat too. Virgil and John are being very good brothers. Absolutely nothing hurts. A greatful boop to @idontknowreallywhy, @astranite and @janetm74 for soft fabrics and Top Gun featuring.

UNDER THE WEATHER

The perks of living on a tropical island included not only it being remote, secluded and perfect to house a state-of-the-art rescue operation. It was also the whole being TROPICAL deal. Whenever one stepped out - it was reliably warm. The downside of living on a remote tropical island was losing the habit to navigate the regular four-seasons weather. Or the fickle New York City climate.

Truthfully, Scott didn't miss it much. Of course, he'd be fondly nostalgic about Kansas and snow slides, or, would occasionally get caught up in the inherent wistful mood of early NYC fall. But he definitely didn't miss THIS - being caught up in the icy torrent and orange warning winds two blocks away from the Tracy Tower. In nothing but his dress shirt and slacks.

They were at Tracy Industries headquarters with Virgil for the better half of the week. Virgil was involved in pre-screening the latest batch of R&D pitches, before they would move on to Brains and John for the final approval and production. Scott was held hostage by the Department of Finance for budget amendments and redistribution.

When the opportunity presented itself, well into the afternoon, to escape his own untimely death by paperwork or premeditated murder of a high ranking employee, Scott ran for the hills, slipping expertly beneath the radar of Kayo's handpicked security detail.

His underlying motive was quite noble - to walk to that coffe-shop Virgil liked and get his brother and himself some decent coffee. Virgil loved coffee and Scott loved Virgil - the rationale for his sortie was ironclad. Of course, pursuing exclusively immaculate fraternal care didn't provide for ditching his earpiece and wrist com. The hasty retreat also meant his designer (and more importantly in his current predicament - woolen) jacket got left hanging on the back of his chair by the bay window. He forgot this wasn't Tracy Island, the sun outside the window and climate control in the offices and their penthouse at the top of the Tracy Tower lulled his vigilance. And now, without a comm to get a timely warning from Eos or to call a cab (or the security SUV with a profound apology, or One from the landing pad on the roof), Scott was caught in the sudden onslaught of a cyclone.

The prudent thing to do would be to go back to the Tower. So, of course, Scott decided in favor of the opposite and broke into a run for the rest of the distance to the coffee place. The relentless laws of physics - speed and resistance - made sure he was soaked through the very last thread of clothing on his body and chilled to the bone by the time he got there.

His hair plastered to the forhead, the supershiny gel having lost the round with the freezing downpour, rivers of water drained down from the top of his head all the way past the suit slacks and dress shoes splashed in muck. There were poodles of water INSIDE his shoes. His socks were wet. His shirt was drenched. The squelching of the fabric as he walked up to the counter suggested he was wet EVERYWHERE. Yuk! That, at least, he didn't know as he was getting numb all over from the cold.

Scott was aware he probably looked like a wet stray cat. It was that or his shirt became see-through in the rain - as a barrista with a cute smile tried to waive his fee for the coffee. Unacceptable! He paid for two extra large, extra strong brews, and rushed out, stifling a sneeze. Must have been the shirt, since one of the take-away cups had a phone number scrolled on the side. Which was a small consolation, as he broke into a jog again, making his way back through the raging elements.

***

The Tracy Industries front desk in the lobby, thankfully, didn't detain him, so he snuck into the elevator, not making eye contact with anyone. It was getting increasingly hard to hold the coffee cups - his hands were numb and shaking, and his teeth were clattering in time with full body shivers. Scott was sure he had hit the executive floor button, but the elevator made no stop, gliding all the way up to the private penthouse. Figures. He'd probably earned himself a lecture not only from the on site security team, but from John as well.

The door slid open on his approach across an antechember and he was welcomed in the hallway by a wall of flannel presided by furrowed black brows. Scott brandished the procured coffee cups like a shield, instinctively. He would sound more nonchalant if he were not stuttering from the cold.

"Hey, Virg, I got your favorite coffee!"

His face muscles were too frozen for a smile.

Virgil was holding a massive towel, or maybe a full body length terrycloth sheet, like an unfurled banner, and appeared completely unmoved by Scott's heroic endeavor.

"How very kind of you! Now step on the rug and strip. I'm not mopping after you!"

Scott looked down and found himself standing, indeed, on one of Gordon's old bright pool towels. It was already soaked halfway through with all the water Scott was dripping. He felt marginally ashamed as the elevator likely sported poodles too. But it was hard to maintain several self-deprecating emotions at once, being that cold and miserable.

The styrofoam cups were tentatively deposited on the glove table. Scott peeled off his soaked dress shirt and shed the trousers more than eagerly, toed off wet (and probably ruined too) shoes. Francesco the designer would bite his head off. But that could wait. He needed something warm off the rack now! A move off the towel was aborted, however, by the reappearance of the Eyebrows over the terrycloth edge.

"Uh-uh! Everything, Scooter! You're NOT wedging your undies behind the shower stall. Again!"

Scott sighed. That was ONE TIME! He was sneaking back past the curfew and tried to conceal evidence. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out. The moment the last wet cloth on him joined the pile on the floor, he was wrapped head to ankles in the sea of soft blue fabric and steered in the general direction of the shower.

"You know the drill! Try to warm up under hot water as long as you can. If you feel lightheaded - yell, I'll be right here."

The scolding shower helped somewhat. He could still feel the freezing grip around his ribs, but his extremities were not as numb anymore, at least. There was a stack of warm sleepwear waiting for him as he stepped out in the cloud of fog. Scott smiled - it was a motley assembly of his own clean trunks and sweatpants, a well-worn soft flannel shirt and a Denver Engineering hoodie, that swapmed his frame. Hair toweled off and curling every which way, he was mostly ready to venture back out into the colder world, but felt dead tired.

There was a nest of throw pillows and a blanket, assembled on the couch, unfolded to full length, in the living room. Scott made an immediate beeline for it and tugged the blanket around his shoulders, trying to fold his feet beneath as well. The shivers were crawling back. Virgil emerged from a door that was decidedly neither Scott's nor his own room, carrying a pair of fluffy bright orange socks and an extra comforter.

***

After some gentle, yet determined, coaxing, the orange socks were tugged onto Scott's icy cold feet and a second blanket was tucked snuggly around him. Virgil settled by his side against a couple of snatched pillows, pondering idly that they would need to get a spare weighted blanket for the penthouse too. They would also owe John more socks. The Scott-sized frozen burrito shuffled closer and Virgil wrapped an arm around his wayward big brother, offering more of his body warmth. The chills worried Virgil. Scott was fit and healthy, but he was chronically exhausted and hadn't been exposed to cyclones without IR-grade water-proof gear, or at least a raincoat, in a while.

"So... you wanna watch Top Gun?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Scott's face immediately shot up, beaming with a thousand suns. He also did an enthusiastic giant caterpillar wiggle, blanket and all. Virgil thought in that moment his core memory was probably Scott, all bright eyes, gap-teeth smile and dimples, bouncing with excitement and unbridled energy. He wished he got to revisit it more often.

The opening frames rolled on the holoscreen to the sound of the all too familiar Anthem. Virgil finally reached for so hard earned cup of coffee, now reheated, and couldn't contain a snort.

"Aw, Scooter, you actually scored a number for your troubles?"

It was obvious Scott wasn't going to last through the movie - his eyes were droopping and voice slurred, mostly muffled by plaid flannel.

"M'dashin'!"

A smaller hologram appeared at that exact moment on Virgil's comm. John looked way too amused:

"Actually, that's the number of a homeless shelter around the corner from the coffee shop."

Virgil's laughter full on rumbled at that. He raised a hand to ruffle the back of big brother's head:

"Oh yeah, you're a dashing idiot."

"M'cold."

The muffled complain was exemplified by a full body shiver.

"Sure, Scotty! You're a cold, wet, dashing idiot."

There was no protest to that, just a soft, slightly stuffed snore. Virgil adjusted the hold on the now sound asleep biggest brother to snuggle him closer.

***

The F-14A Tomcat was playing chicken with a MiG-28 on the screen. John's hologram lingered. Virgil could tell the space ginger was concerned more than he let on. John finally spoke.

"Is he gonna be alright? Should I cancel his Friday?"

Untamed by the gel, the now dry and fluffy ringlets made it difficult to reach Scott's forhead, but the back of Virgil's hand found the way, careful not to disturb. The skin was cool to his touch, no signs of fever.

"He'll be alright. He just needs to warm up and sleep it off."

He moved to rub a soothing circle over Scott's back as the big brother relaxed deeper into sleep. It was sorely tempting to clear Scott's schedule for the next day and mandate more rest. But Virgil was aware it would pose a risk of Scott, not held down by a cold, hairing off to the island in One, insisting to be back on the roster, if not on TI business. That would be a shame, as a big part of the weekend, Virgil had been looking forward to, was going to see Tosca at the Metropolitan Opera with biggest brother.

John was still hovering, unconvinced. Virgil siged, but smiled:

"Well, Johnny, unless you want to come down from orbit and join me at the box, I'd rather our reservation to a sold out six months in advance opera didn't fall through."

John looked appropriately appalled and quite earnest:

"I love you more than my life, brother, but I do draw a line at too many people doing too many loud things in a confined space. Call me Johnny and see how often I come down from orbit!"

Virgil stifled a huff of laughter, as Scott shuddered and groaned quietly, but, thankfully, didn't wake up. The warm-up circles over his back and shoulders resumed. Virgil hugged him closer. John shifted attention to the swaddled biggest brother in fond amusement.

"What did you bribe him with, anyway?"

Virgil didn't have the energy to protest.

"Apfelschtrudel from that place Gordon found. And he can preview the R&D projects I selected for Brains, if he gets bored. No call-outs, no reports, no work mail though."

The gazed Virgil fixed on John was full of fair warning. It was John's turn to smile.

"Don't worry. You love watching opera and Scott loves watching us doing what we love. He'll be fine. And locked out of his work accounts, for good measure."

Silence stretched for several moments, interrupted only by Scott's soft snoring.

Virgil looked down on the slumbering brother in his arms, then back at John.

"I wish he did more of what he loves. Just Scott. For himself - not for us, or for the company, or the world."

That wasn't an issue easily solved in a casual conversation through an impromptu movie night. If at all. John knew that too, all too well. The brother in orbit chewed on his lip, lost in thought.

"You could sugget he get coffee in that place again. She's a Hudson Uni postgraduate. Cultural Anthropology."

Virgil was mostly used to John's the Resident Genius thoughts veering in unexpected directions, but the ginger thoroughly lost him there.

"Huh? Who's a postgrad where?"

John rolled his eyes in exasperation commonly reserved to explaining things to the bristling rescuees and a five year old Gordon.

"The barrista that gave Scott a shelter number today. She works part time and volunteers there often. One time she even volunteered at the IR disaster site. Remember, the sinkhole? She seems nice."

Top Gun closing scenes were replaced by assorted social media pages and university profile pages. Virgil gulped.

"John! You can't go doxxing random people!"

John's hologram up in orbit shrugged:

"I have Eos run background checks automatically on anyone who comes in contact with you guys. We can't take any chances!"

There was sound and, sadly, field proved reasoning behind what nearly cost them barely averted tragedy on several occasions. But still... Virgil kept staring at a pretty blond smiling from the holoscreen.

"That gotta be illegal!"

"Only if I get caught."

Turquoise eyes twinkled in nothing remotely resembling remorse. He still didn't cut off the call.

"Do you wanna come down here for the weekend?"

Virgil suddenly felt the need to have more brothers accounted for and within reach. There was hope in the way John actually gave it a thought.

"Only if you don't make me go to the opera. I ordered you pizza, by the way."

A wave of warmth washed over Virgil and he tightened the grip on Scott's frame instinctively.

"You're my favoretest brother not asleep at the moment!"

He was graced with another eyeroll.

"You spend entirely too much time around Gordon. I'll have Eos screen the calls and land the elevator on the Tower tomorrow evening, your time, if there's no major catastrophe."

Virgil resisted the urge to fistpupm in the air. Definitely too much time around Gordon. Another thought occurred to him as he remembered a detail John mentioned when vetting the unsuspecting compassionate barrista.

"Hey, John! Could you..."

"Right ahead of you, brother. An anonymous donation was made to the homeless shelter and free kitchen an hour ago."

And they said Virgil and Scott were uncanny telepathic. Then again, it was to be expected. Anyone who was genuinely kind and considerate to their favorite Idiot, or attempted to course-correct his destruction path, inadvertently gained a lifelong ally in every one of them. Maybe he really needed to nudge Scott to go get more of the good coffee tomorrow. Equipped with an umbrella that time around.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #and gets one #scott tracy needs a cuff up his head #virgil tracy #did sign up for this #earth and sky #john tracy didn't sign up for this #earth and star #tracy brotherdom of love #my fic #thunderbirds 2015 #methinks i have astronomy

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idontknowreallywhy · 1 month

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Highlighting some most excellent John gifs because we love him too

@astranite just because 🧡

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #flyboy gifs #and darkestwolfx gif also #john tracy

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thunder-pride · 8 days

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Welcome to the ThunderPride Event! With June fast approaching, we’re happy to return this year to celebrate Pride and queerness in all its forms for the Thunderbirds fandom! We have a couple of new mods to welcome on board too - @knyee and @astranite!

Whether you enjoy Brains and Brawn, think the Hood should have just admitted his crush on Jeff already, or want to celebrate a particular character headcanon - this is the time and the place to do it! You know… aside from the rest of the year 😄

This year, we'll be introducing some new activities including more ways to share headcanons, even more prompts, and a gift exchange!

The full Calendar will be unveiled on the 1st of May, along with sign up info for the gift exchange!

Although if you have some headcanons you know you want to explore, no need to wait 👀💕 And if you're keen to stretch those creative muscles and explore a new headcanon, you can find a fun generator here (updated with even more characters and identities!)

We hope you get on board - we’re looking forward to parading (heh) your creations and celebrating Pride together!

There’s been a lot of wonderful people helping out behind the scenes on this and we couldn’t be more grateful to them for all their support! Thank you, thank you, thank you! A big shout out to @quasar-concept in particular for creating the template for all the banners and event images!

With love and pride,

Your Tumblr mods - @tracybirds, @mrmustachious, @squiddokiddo, @avengedbiologist, @quasar-concept, @knyee, @astranite

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderpride #thunderpride 2024 #thunderpride info

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weirdburketeer · 4 months

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Wishing you a Christmas full of light,love and laughter for you and yours.Hugs being sent who will find this year’s festivities hard 😘🎅🏼🎄🌟💗🌈

@cg29 @gumnut-logic @womble1 @tracybirds @janetm74 @godsliltippy @louthestarspeaker @mariashades @thundergeek59 @astranite @katblu42 @kayo-kyrano and all the rest of the #Thunderfam that my mush of a Long Covid/cyst brain won’t let me remember.

Thank you all for the many,many hours of entertainment 😘

#TAG #TOS #Thunderbirds #ScottTracy #VirgilTracy #JohnTracy #GordonTracy #AlanTracy #JeffTracy #KayoKyrano

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astranite · 10 days

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I finally finished this fic which I’ve been working on for a while. I’ll let the tags and the summary/first little bit speak for themselves as I’ve got no more words left. It’s 12,000 words as one thing so I’m just linking the Ao3 as opposed to making into into a do you like the colour of the sky and star situation!

Edit to add LOOK FABULOUS FANART OF MY FANFIC BY @lying4sport https://www.tumblr.com/astranite/748183025848909824/this-is-fabulous-and-i-love-it-and-thank-you

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (Cartoon 2015) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John Tracy & Scott Tracy Characters: John Tracy, Scott Tracy Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, this is what it is fundamentally but we do dive into the angst and the fluff, Autistic John Tracy, Scott Tracy has ADHD, Scott Tracy Has PTSD, Autistic meltdowns, References to Depression, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Chronic Illness, that's how i'm treating John's space issues, this is all written from a disability and neurodiversity lens and lot of my own experience, there's alot going on but there's also alot of love here, and acceptance, its about hope its always about hope ultimately, things are hard and they wont just fix themselves but it does get better, we just have to keep hanging on. all of us you and me together, its not a straight line there are alot of up and downs and emotions in this fic, as in life and everything because thats whats its like but its not impossible

Summary:

John threw his arm over his face as the lights suddenly turned on and tried to burn out his eyeballs.

Scott muttered apologies, voice kept considerately quiet. John heard the flick of the switch and the click of the door closing as all settled back to blissful darkness. Shuffling noises continued: the thwump of what he guessed was a very expensive suit jacket tossed carelessly over the back of a chair, a muffled curse as something was tripped over and the cracking of Scott stretching out his back. Then footsteps hushed by deep pile carpet came back to his side of the room. John kept his eyes screwed shut, arm still draped across his face. He could feel his own heartbeat, a touch too fast and in time with the throbbing pain in his head. The hotel sheets were a ridiculous thread count, all silky smooth with crisply made corners, but they scraped against his skin because they weren’t the same worn, soft ones he had at home or his sleeping bag up on Five which was also home. He’d be getting smotherhenned any second now that Scott had found him, but honestly, he was too tired to care.

—Sky and Star

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #astrawrite #autistic john tracy #adhd scott tracy #neurodivergent tracies #im going to curl up under a blanket now

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thatkidwholikesthunderbirds · 4 months

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-Festive sibling softness-

Merry Christmas and a Happy Yuletide.

Thx to @astranite for the love and encouragement.💛💛

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #gordon tracy #thunderbirds oc #sea-squirt tracy #squidmas #thunderbirds fanart #kidthunder's art #sfw interaction only

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squiddokiddo · 10 months

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Greetings!!! I just wanted to say how much I love your art! The way you draw Gordon is my favourite. Your style is amazing and unique and I particularly love the colours you use, they're so colourful, and all the little details you put into it.

Thank you for all the aro & ace positivity too, I've needed to hear it lately.

I really enjoyed the fic you wrote, and if it is something you enjoyed and want to do more of, I would be very happy to hear more adventures of Gords and Squirt.

I like seeing whatever you make, whether its only Gords, or your ocs, or even just stuff that reminded you of them. And ocean stuff, the ocean is awesome. It's all cool, so whatever makes you happy!

I've kinda been lurking around the thunderfam for a while, hi. Your art is comforting and it makes me smile, so here I am to say thank you. Because, yeah, making any sort of art is hard, and you are amazing and deserve to hear it!

I feel like I should have a question, because this is an ask, so: What is your favourite sea creature, aside from Gordy, of course? :)

--AstraNite (I really like cuttlefish, they're neat!)

Hi, thanks so much for dropping me this ask. It was a really sweet surprise, I definitely needed a pick-me-up.💛💛

I'm going to try and address everything you've mentioned, give me a minute lol.

I'm really glad that you like my drawings, I haven't been getting a lot of comments on them atm so I'm really grateful for your feedback. It's interesting that you find my art comforting since a lot of the things I make are for my comfort too. I've said this before but I had a really rough childhood and TAG and Gordon have brought me a lot of comfort during some really tough times.

I'm happy to hear that my drawings are bringing other people comfort too.💛💛

°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o

Ace and aro positivity: yes I'm also aroace and there's nothing but love for fellow aros, aces and aroaces on this blog.

°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o

I'm so happy that you liked my fic, it was my first so I was really nervous and ocs can be very hit or miss but the fandom seems to really like Squirt which makes me so so happy.

I have been trying out more writing but none of it came out anywhere near as good as the first one. I do hope to post more Bigsquid and Squidkid adventures and hopefully expand on their relationship and Squirt's backstory (which is still an ongoing mystery to me) but I'd also like to try making things that aren't OC centered because I know it's not something everyone enjoys lol.

°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o

Ok onto sea creatures, cuttle fish are very interesting, the way that they change colour to camouflage and intimidate other animals. Yeah they're pretty cool.

My favourite sea creature (apart from Gords) uhhhh I like sharks, no particular species, they're all cool. I think sharks have a really bad reputation when they're actually quite chill. They don't tend to attack humans, their eyesight is bad and they often mistake us for seals and other animals that they eat.

As Gordon would say: They're sea puppies.🦈🩵

°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o𖦹°o

Thanks for dropping into my askbox, I hope my answers were ok. If you ever want to chat or anything my pms and inbox are always open.💛💛

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #gordon tracy #sea-squirt tracy #thunderbirds oc #squiddo's ocs #squiddokiddo answers #squiddo's inbox #astranite

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

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From @angelofbenignmalevolence

From @angelofbenignmalevolence to @astranite

Could someone please ping @angelofbenignmalevolence as Tumblr is refusing to tag them.

Santa’s Little Bug Out Bag

Fandom: Thunderbirds are Go

Characters: Jeff Tracy, Grandma Tracy, Lucille Tracy, Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: TAG Secret Santa 2023, Christmas, Family Bonding, Traditions, Mentions of Canon Trauma, Mentions of Canon Character Death, Mostly Fluff, A little hurt/comfort thrown in for spice, Be careful letting little ones read this - rated for Santa Spoilers

Summary: The tradition had started, like most odd family traditions, with a throwaway comment one Christmas. Then the tradition grew and evolved as the family continued to get bigger.

Chapter Note: Written as part of the TAG Secret Santa using the prompt "Unconventional Christmas traditions."

-----

The tradition had started, like most odd family traditions, with a throwaway comment one Christmas.

Jeff could not have been older than five. His parents had always done Christmas with flair. As soon as the Christmas season rolled around, Sally pulled out tinsel and garland and nutcrackers and the house became festooned in Christmas finery almost as soon as the turkey from Thanksgiving was in the refrigerator. They had always set out cookies and milk for Santa and Sally had always insisted on putting out a carrot or two for the reindeer. But on this particular Christmas, the winter had been unseasonably warm and the winter sun had been the brightest it had been in a long while.

“Do you think that Santa’s going to get hot in all that fur?” Jeff had asked as Sally held the garland for her husband, who was up on a ladder as he adjusted and fluffed the greenery.

“What?” had been the reply, as the question had seemed so completely out of the ordinary that it had taken Sally a moment to process the question.

“Well, it hasn’t gotten cold enough for it to snow,” Jeff said. He had been painfully aware of that fact, since he had had to attend every day of kindergarten this winter due to lack of snow days and Mrs. Westerson didn’t seem to have an ounce of the Christmas spirit leading up to the end of the year (at least as far as Jeff was concerned). “And if he’s running around in fur and velvet like he does when we see him at the mall…don’t you think he’s gonna be a little hot?” Sally looked up at Grant, who was forcing back a smile as he continued to adjust.

“He’s probably going to be ok,” Sally said. “It gets real cold way up high where he flies with the reindeer, so he’ll probably be alright.”

“But what if he isn’t? What if it’s too hot and he passes out and no one can get their presents?” Jeff asked. To his five-year-old mind, it was a very real possibility. Grant let out a little snort from where he had failed to keep down the laugh. Sally looked up to him with a frown and Grant turned slightly on the ladder, looking down at his son.

“Well, that would be a pickle,” he said. “What do you think we could do to help him out, son?” Jeff had thought about it for a long thirty seconds before he looked up to his father.

“Well, when you are doing stuff out on the farm, you always have a mug of coffee with you when it’s cold. Maybe we can get him a mug like yours and put some ice water in it so it will be cold for him when he comes to our house.” Grant smiled.

“I think that that is an excellent idea,” he said, looking to his wife. Sally rolled her eyes but smiled knowing full well that she would be buying a special Christmas thermos the next time that she was out at the store.

So it came to be that every Christmas, Jeff would check the weather and decide whether Santa needed a hot drink or a cold drink to get him through the Kansas December evenings.

The tradition had gone into hibernation as he grew into adulthood, the old thermos languishing amidst the other Christmas decorations. But soon enough, Jeff had found himself a wife, and within a few years, his wife had also become a mother to his firstborn, Scott. Scott was everything that he could have hoped for in a son, bright and inquisitive, even as a toddler.

As he grew into his childhood, old enough for Christmas to be remembered, Sally had dusted off the old Thermos and had explained to Scott that alongside the milk and cookies, they also had to leave either water or coffee, depending on the temperature. Sally had been overjoyed that she could bring back the old traditions for a new set of children, her grandchildren.

But it was a few Christmases later when Scott had asked if Santa was able to see in the dark when he visited the houses of the other children. And it was why for the next several years, a special flashlight, wrapped in red and white electrical tape to look like a candy cane, was found next to the thermos with coffee for Santa. And the tradition carried on, much to the delight of all the adults. Not just carried on, the tradition was growing.

When Virgil was born, Scott became the best big brother, helping wherever he could with the decorations on the tree and helping his toddling brother to learn how to unwrap the presents under the tree in his early Christmases. During the rest of the year, Virgil could often be found on Jeff’s lap as Jeff watched various shows about nature and natural disasters, and Virgil’s attention had been rapt. He had particularly fallen in love with a show about natural disasters that was hosted by Kip Harris. His young mind had already begun to idolize the man.

So, when the next Christmas had rolled around and the thermos and the flashlight were set out to prepare for Santa’s ride, Virgil asked if Santa liked his fuzzy hat, the one with the fur and the pompom at the end of its point. Jeff and Lucille looked at each other, as if they hadn’t given the matter much thought.

“What would he wear instead?” Lucille had asked, never wanting to shut down the creativity or problem solving of her boys. Virgil hadn’t needed two seconds to think.

“A cowboy hat,” he said. “Like Dad wears on the ranch.”

“You mean like Kip Harris wears,” Scott had muttered, and Virgil had given him a look. Jeff’s grin had been as bright as the Christmas tree.

“I think I have an old hat we could offer him,” Jeff said.

“But how will he know it’s for him? If it doesn’t look Christmassy?” Scott had whined. Lucille had assured him they would put it with the other things for Santa so he would know. But by the time the next year had rolled around, the hat had become bedecked with garland and holly, the lining replaced with candy cane striped fabric. There was no mistaking it that year. This was a hat for Santa and no one else.

The tradition carried on and a third Tracy son was born, John. He was a fussy baby, wanting to be held only by his mother, which made holiday decorating a challenge. Lucille had taken to wrapping John against her so that she had the free use of both hands as they got the Christmas tree set up and the garland hung and the presents wrapped. Baby John had always been entranced by the glittering lights on the tree, and he had gazed at them as if they were stars.

There came a Christmas when John had become interested in how Santa was able to visit everyone so quickly. Jeff patiently explained the mechanics of Santa and how there was a special Christmastime magic that let Santa take care of all the children, making the night as long as it needed to be.

“But does Santa ever get lost?” John asked. Jeff had seemed confused by the question.

“Well, no, John. He guides himself by the stars. He’s done this lots of times already. I think he’s got his route pretty much memorized.”

“But it’s supposed to be cloudy this Christmas Eve. What if he can’t see the stars? Does Santa have a compass?”

That year the coffee and the flashlight had been set out alongside the garland bedecked Christmas hat and a new addition: a compass that had been decorated with little Christmas tree stickers.

By the time that Gordon was born, it seemed like there was a lot of things that they gifted Santa every year to make his job a little easier, and it had been the year that Lucille had added her own gift to the mix. She had bought a canvas bag from the army surplus store and had begun the work of embroidering various Christmas figures on the bag: a gingerbread man here, a Christmas tree there, candy canes along the bottom. By the time Christmas rolled around that year, the bag had become quite festive. Into the bag went the thermos and the flashlight and the compass. The hat was attached to the handle of the bag by a clip. She had told the boys that it was so that Santa could just grab everything all at once and go and the boys had been enchanted by the bag, loving the way that the thread seemed to glitter when caught in the light of the Christmas tree.

As Gordon grew, he had decided that all the gifts that his family left for Santa on Christmas Eve were far too practical. Santa spent so much time making sure that gifts were brought to all the little boys and girls around the world, and all he got in exchange was some milk, some cookies, a little coffee, a flashlight, a hat, and a compass. Gordon wanted to give Santa something properly useful, something that he would be able to play with once he was done with his Christmas eve flight. For this, Gordon had thought long and hard all year, but it was only on a school trip to the aquarium that he had discovered the perfect thing to leave for Santa.

The stuffed ray plush in the gift shop was the perfect size to fit in the bag with all the other things (though Gordon had thought that it shouldn’t matter what size the plush was. Nothing was too good for Santa). The stuffed ray normally would not have caught his eye, except it had been a bright, Christmassy red with a white underbelly. He knew it would match Santa’s suit and he decided that then and there, he was going to make this little manta ray plush Santa’s new best friend. Lucille had tried to convince him a reindeer might be more seasonally appropriate, but Gordon had patiently explained to her that Santa already had nine reindeer friends and that he probably wanted other kinds of friends too. So, into the Christmas eve bag for Santa went the ray plush, which Jeff affectionately referred to as the ‘Santa Ray’ when they prepped the bag each year.

Alan was the last of the children to be born, and Christmas eves as he grew older became a more somber occasion. They had always been joyous, but after Lucille’s death, all the decorations seemed to have lost just a little bit of their luster. The first year they had barely managed to break out the tree, and the assembly of the bag had been a quiet affair, too painful to try to garner the same enthusiasm. But slowly Christmases became big affairs with decorations and parties as the business had taken off.

When it came Alan’s turn to add something to the bag, the little one had thought long and hard about it. He had taken his time and considered everything in the bag already. He wanted to make a smart choice. Everything in the bag was to help Santa not get lost or to keep his flight comfortable, which were all very admirable choices. But when Jeff asked Alan what he wanted to put in the bag, he was a little surprised by the answer.

“I think we should put an emergency beacon in the bag,” he said. Jeff’s brow furrowed.

“I…don’t think Santa will need one,” Jeff had answered carefully.

“But what if there’s a blizzard? Or a tornado? Or a hurricane? Or…” Alan trailed off, as if he didn’t want to ask. Jeff moved to hug Alan close to him.

“Ok, bud. We’ll put one in, just in case,” Jeff said, his voice shaky.

With the addition of the emergency signal beacon, the bug out bag had been completed. Jeff’s entire family had given a part of themselves to making Christmas special for Santa, and in turn had made each Christmas Eve special with the simple magic of pulling together each item and the anticipation of an amazing Christmas morning to follow. The tradition was a way of keeping their mother close, even as Alan grew out of believing in Santa Claus. The bag still came out each Christmas and each person brought out their own gift, putting it in the same bag that Lucille had lovingly embroidered.

At least until Jeff had disappeared.

The first Christmas after Jeff disappeared, the whole house had been somber. Scott, the newly ordained man of the house, had barely found the mental capacity to put up the decorations. When he had found the bag in the box of decorations, he couldn’t bring himself to pull it out. The wound of losing their father was too fresh and the faded embroidery felt like a scar ripped open as it brought back memories of their father.

The bag had been left to languish in the box of decorations for eight years as International Rescue began to take over most aspects of the Tracy family lives. There were Christmases that went uncelebrated for several days when rescues interrupted. But after eight years, the Tracy family had a miracle: Jeff was alive. The journey had been a dangerous one, but there was no greater joy than that of a happy reunion with their father. Though the first few months of his return to earth had been filled with hospital stays and therapy, both physical and psychological, the boys looked forward to the day when their father could return to the island without hospital visits looming.

It was two weeks before Christmas when Jeff was finally cleared by his doctors to come home. Tracy Island had become abustle with activity as everyone put more effort into the Christmas decorations than they had since Jeff’s disappearance, wanting to make this Christmas special for him. There was an abundance of garland, and they had flown in an enormous tree to mark the occasion. It had taken nearly three days to get enough ornaments on the tree to make it perfect. All they awaited was Jeff’s arrival on the night before Christmas Eve.

There were still last-minute preparations that Scott was finishing, wanting everything to be perfect for Jeff to return home to. Virgil brought up the last box of decorations.

“This should be the last of it,” Virgil said. “I think these are the rest of Grandma’s nutcrackers for the shelves.” Scott smiled up at him.

“Thanks Virgil, just set them there,” Scott said as he tied off another bit of garland wrapped around the supports on the stairs. Virgil set the box down next to him.

“Need any help?” Virgil asked. Scott looked up at him from where he was kneeling.

“I don’t know,” Scott answered honestly. “I really just want to make sure that everything is perfect. You know…gotta live up to those Christmases from our childhood, make it extra special for him.” Virgil nodded knowingly.

“Yeah, it’s a big one this year,” Virgil said. “John said he’d be down in the elevator once the medical transport was on approach to the island.” He opened the box to pull out the nutcrackers and began to place them on the shelves as Scott straightened some ribbon on the garland. He hummed ‘Deck the Halls’ as he put the nutcrackers on the shelves, making the office space a bit more festive in the hopes of discouraging Scott from spending too much time there during celebrations.

He reached for the next Nutcracker, but he felt his breath stop for a moment as his hands brushed cloth, a rough canvas cloth. His fingers traced a little more and he found the familiar shapes: a candy cane, a gingerbread man, a Christmas tree. Scott looked up as he heard Virgil stop humming.

“Is everything alright?” Scott asked. Virgil looked at him before looking down at the box. There was the Christmas bug out bag that they had so lovingly crafted together. The embroidery was dulled, frayed in some places, and it showed its age, but it was unmistakable. Virgil picked it up and ran his fingers over the fabric, the items that usually found their way to the interior of the bag beneath it: the old thermos, the flashlight, a hat festooned in garland that had seen better days, a compass with cracked glass from a careless move, the ‘Santa ray’, and an old emergency beacon. Scott looked at the bag and let out a soft ‘oh.’ There were a few moments where neither said anything before Virgil smiled.

“What do you say, Scott?” he asked. “Think it’s time to break this out again? A special bag for a special Christmas.” Scott’s brow furrowed.

“Do you think dad will want to see it?” he asked. Virgil thought for a few moments. It wasn’t as if they had anyone that was still young enough to believe in Santa Claus, but that hadn’t exactly been the point of the bag, had it?

“I think he will,” Virgil said. “It was part of what made Christmas so special before, part of what brought our family together no matter what we had to face. I think it’s time to bring it back out again, if only for the sake of a good laugh.” Scott nodded after a moment.

“If you think it’s a good idea…” he said, picking up the Santa ray. He chuckled. “You know the first question he’s going to ask is going to be ‘why don’t we have any new additions to the bag?’” This earned a chuckle from Virgil.

“Well…romance hasn’t exactly been top of our lists,” he said. “No one has really had the opportunity, since the world seems to be falling apart at every turn.” Scott looked as though he wanted to respond, but John’s hologram appeared at the center table.

“Hey John,” Scott greeted, earning a smile from John.

“I just got an update on Dad’s flight. Estimated arrival at the island in two hours,” John said.

“That’s great news!” Virgil said. John nodded.

“Weather patterns look clear so it should be a smooth and uneventful ride,” he said. “I’m just doing some prep to leave five before I will come down. Making sure that EOS’s servers are set for a few days and that sort of thing.”

“I keep telling him I will alert him if anything is in danger of going catastrophically wrong, but he’s anxious,” EOS said matter-of-factly. John rolled his eyes.

“I just want to make sure that when Dad wants to come visit Five, see all of his Thunderbirds, that she is ready for his arrival,” John said. He looked at the bag in Virgil’s hands. “Is that…”

“It is,” Scott said. “We were debating bringing it out for dad’s first Christmas back. What’s your take on it?” John looked pensive for a moment, resting his chin on his hand before he shrugged.

“I think it’s a good idea. So much has changed, I’m sure it would be welcome to have something familiar,” John said.

“That settles it,” Virgil said. “Though…it would be a treat for dad to have another new part of the tradition to look forward to.” John shook his head.

“Sorry, I don’t have a baby in my back pocket that I can pull out,” John said. “That was supposed to be on the two of you.”

“Statistically speaking—”

“Yes, EOS, thank you,” John said. “Statistically speaking I can reproduce.” Virgil laughed as Scott looked up at John’s hologram.

“Hey EOS…”

“Yes, Scott?”

“If you were to put an object into a bug out bag…”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction

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whatgaviiformes · 10 months

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Fic: Watercolors (FishTank Week)

Summary: When the water takes, he creates.

Characters: Virgil, Gordon (are you surprised?)

Words: 1,840

Warnings: Past loss on a rescue. Nothing shown, just the feelings.

Special thanks to @the-original-sineater for the read through and excellent advice as always.

A/N: When we hit FishTank week, I knew I wanted to do a spin on the crafty of the bunch, so I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile. Life. It gets away from you. But this is my very late take on “Arts and Sciences” day, plus Math!Scott makes an appearance for ya. :D

And since the timing aligns, this is also for @gumnut-logic, @knyee, and @astranite, as y'all have definitely been inspiring me lately with such lovely pieces to get me off my butt. I hope you don't mind the overlap, but I feel like this pairs well with gumnut’s take on Virgil painting on the floor here, inspired by knyee’s artwork here. And astranite’s lovely watercolors of Two and Four have been such lovely reminders of this idea that's been stirring at my brain. If any of you haven't yet, go give them some love first. This is for you, and for all of the crafty fam. You all are so incredibly talented, and I don’t know how I got so lucky finding a place in this fandom.

Read on Ao3 [this is my 50th work on the archive!!]

*****

Watercolors

Virgil awoke well-rested, but with the sudden memory that they’d lost people yesterday. It had been a comfort in his dreamless, beyond-exhaustion sleep to exist where that hadn’t happened, but while awake it was all too recent to forget. The itch on his scalp scolded him for crashing before removing what remained of the gel out of his hair, but at least he’d managed to change into something resembling sleepwear the night before.

Physically refreshed but weary, Virgil took an additional twenty minutes to wash up and change, the steam from the shower lifting the world from his shoulders just that little bit – enough for his heart to accept that it was a new day. And it would be what he made of it.

He rolled his dirty clothes into his sheets and tore them from the mattress, placing them in a laundry basket he kept outside his bathroom. It was better to have them somewhere organized, just in case the machines down the hallway were already in use by someone else in the family. Luckily, they were not, and it wasn’t until he started his pile on the wash cycle that he realized he could hear the steady pitter-patter of rain on the less sound-proofed walls of the utility room.

His stomach dropped, realizing his co-pilot was cooped up without his usual outlets on a day like today. Though he wouldn’t put it past Gordon to still find solace outside in the rain if he was that determined to be among the water. Hopefully nowhere near the storm-raged sea; Gordon knew better. Four hadn’t been fast enough yesterday, and Gordon, for all his outward carefree nature, would be feeling the loss just as much as him. It was one thing to say they couldn’t save everyone; it was another thing all together when their ships weren’t fast enough. Or they weren’t enough.

Even John had thought they could make it.

Mother Nature – she provides, and she takes.

A quick check in with Scott over comms revealed he and Alan were actually already attending to their brother in the satellite station above Earth. John had wanted Scott to check on the probability calculations of yesterday’s program, not trusting his own analysis being so close to the problem. At Eos’ absolute offense, Scott was there to provide another set of eyes, he admitted to Virgil. Smart move bringing along Alan, Virgil thought. Not just because of Three, but because Alan was best at giving John a distraction, via one of their online games or “space talk” or both.

“What have you found?” Virgil asked curiously.

Scott grimaced, admitting he didn’t think he’d find anything wrong with the program. These things just happen. And, unfortunately, Virgil had to agree – he had the upmost faith in Scott’s math, John’s programs, and Eos’ quick computing.

“Hey, check in on the Squid when you can?” his brother asked, frowning at the numbers through a tirade from the AI. “I couldn’t find him earlier.”

His thoughts exactly.

He signed off with an FAB and sent a prayer off to the stars for his brother’s continued patience. For John’s sake. Despite the circumstances, it made him smile knowing Eos and Scott had gotten at least comfortable enough to argue math. John and Eos both were in good hands.

Gordon was in his.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take Virgil long to find him, and he hadn’t needed to start scouting the Island in the rain to do so. Gordon was safe inside, sitting at the kitchen table when Virgil entered to prepare his morning cup of coffee. The aquanaut was hunched over something – Virgil couldn’t quite see what since he had his back to him, but he recognized the poor posture of when Gordon was hyper-focused on whatever was in his hands.

He slid up to him and placed his hand gently on the curl of his spine between his shoulder blades. “Straighten up before you hurt yourself.” Virgil was guilty of it too at times, but with Gordon’s bad back, he obviously needed the reminder this time. Obediently, Gordon pressed his shoulders down and stretched his neck from side to side where he’d accidentally formed stress in his muscles.

“Oh, ow. I forgot,” he grinned sheepishly up at Virgil, who used the opportunity to glance down at the table for just what had taken Gordon’s attention so completely to forget the key guidelines for the health of his spine. He was usually so attentive to that.

Virgil raised his eyebrow at the familiar array of art supplies in chaos across the kitchen table – a paint palette or two, his watercolors, the cup he used for his paint water complete with a selection of brushes tucked inside.

“I’ll replace everything.” Gordon at least had the good sense not to mess with his top shelf brushes, and expensive paints. So that’s where he’d been then while Scott was looking for him: in his studio. Automatically he bristled at the realization Gordon had been through his stuff without his permission, and it showed on his face despite him trying to reel in the immediate annoyance. Gordon noticed, adding, “I didn’t want to wake you. I think I found the more basic stuff, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Virgil grumbled, even though he didn’t often use his watercolors.

“Then go get some coffee so you’ll be less mad at me. Pot’s already made.”

Irritatingly, Gordon was right, and the aroma of fresh brewed coffee relaxed him while the caffeine surged through his system with a warm awareness. Feeling more himself, if not a bit more inspired by the rhythm of the rain against the closed glass despite the lack of sun, he sat across from him and grabbed one of the fresh postcard-sized, art-grade papers from the pile.

On one of Virgil’s palette trays, Gordon had mixed yellow and vermillion, forming a warmer shade of golden light for the shadows, and for the first time, Virgil inspected the artwork of Gordon’s piece, the confident movements of the brushstrokes, and the well-portioned ratio of water to paints. It was no work of a beginner.

“Wait, you’ve done this before!”

Gordon flicked his eyes upward to meet his gaze, “It’s been awhile. Nowhere near like you. This is all the product of tutorials.”

“Still - Wow, since when?” He had no idea Gordon had tried anything similar to his own passions for art.

“There’s nothing to do in a bathyscaphe, but what there’s a lot of is water.” Gordon’s gaze darkened for just a moment, the brushed poised over the paper. “Water is life.” He shrugged, quickly rotating his shoulders back into a better position on his own before Virgil could mention it. “Art worked for you, so I figured why not.”

That gave him pause, imagining that it must’ve gotten old quickly - the appeal of living in a bathyscaphe for an extended period of time, that is. How many little habits and hobbies had Gordon tried on his own? It seemed quite a lonely assignment to Virgil, but Gordon had been so excited to go. After, Gordon had raved about all he’d had the chance to research, the impact he’d been able to make on marine farming, and the possibilities for solving world hunger, though he’d also been equally excited about being back upon his return. As fulfilled as Gordon was during that time, Virgil remembered the first time Gordon had had the chance to skip through the rain after his deployment down below and what was probably the worst burn of Gordon’s life when the sun came out after.

Through his own tight embrace of his little brother’s return, perhaps he’d missed just how hard Gordon had returned the hug, blinded by the initial excited science babble.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Virgil knew the others sometimes dabbled in music, and it already broke him to know they often hid it away, embarrassed about their skill in comparison to Virgil’s. Though, they feared a lecture that would never come. It was unlike him to compare, and more than anything he wanted the world to know art was for everybody, in whatever capacity it inspired. For him, it was as important as air, and the main difference was that he’d given himself the time to develop his skills. He loved those brief moments where Scott would play Heart and Soul with him, and when John would grace them with his singing voice around the holiday season.

But it was Gordon that played his uke with all the confidence of a maestro. And he loved that for him. Gordon was always unapologetic about the things he enjoyed; it was a rare and special characteristic of his younger brother to be himself so fully and authentically. So, the idea that art was something he’d potentially hidden away, made him shrink in himself just slightly.

He suddenly cared a lot less about Gordon taking his supplies for this.

“Hadn’t come up,” Gordon quipped, not in the slightest affected by the swirl of thoughts in Virgil’s brain. “I just wanted to make some flowers in their memory, so I brushed off an old hobby.” He emphasized the statement with a flick of the paint brush, his eyes laughing at his own pun, despite the solemnity of what he’d just said.

When he caught Virgil’s expression, his smile faltered, and eyes widened. “What?”

Virgil shook his head, feeling light, and he swallowed his sadness. “I just can’t believe I had someone to talk art with all this time and didn’t know it.”

“Don’t get excited. I’m still not going to an art museum with you. It’s just flowers. The same ones I’ve done a thousand times at that.”

“They’re very good flowers.” He wondered where the other ones were, and if one day, Gordon would ever show them to him. If he even still had them…

“Really?” Pleased, Gordon squinted at the drying yellow petals, layered on a bed of green connected to stems that trailed down below the postcard.

Virgil nodded, finally finding his subject.

If he were among his paints without his brother here, he would want to channel every horrible thing about yesterday into his art, using the watercolors for the grey and dreary. He’s done it many times, and he would find himself there again. His art wasn’t always beautiful.

With Gordon sharing the load, as he’d done for them all so many times, Virgil found his creative self reaching for the same color of yellow. It felt just so Gordon to reach for the magnificence of what water could create to reconcile the parts that were awful. In the depths of the sea, that yellow - the first color to be swallowed by the ocean - must have been a beacon for his lonely soul, and with it Gordon's art created joy when light reserves were dim.

And so, he found himself inspired by his brother’s yellow.

Since the sky didn’t want them to have any sunlight, Virgil would make them some.

It was a new day, after all.

#Gavii Scribit #For the Love of FishTank #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderangst #but also a whole lot of love too #artistic!Virgil

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littleoldrachel · 3 months

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✨9 people you want to get to know better ✨

It has been AGES since I did one of these, thank you so so much for the tags @moonheavens, @mblematic and @dahlliiances!! I adore you alll 🥹💚🥹

Last song: Inkpot Gods / The Amazing Devil (the chokehold they have had on me is now 2+ years strong rip)

Favourite colour: Forest green! (Specifically this shade)

Last movie / TV show: Pride (2014) / Loki S2 (ouch) and the PJO series!

Sweet/savoury/spicy: Sweet always!

Last thing I googled: Spinosaurus (lmao) bc I am absolutely OBSESSED with the 3D feature they have for all the dinos and it makes me feel Joy to have them romping around my room😭

Current obsession: Jigsaw puzzles and this tiffin recipe. (Also, see above re: dinosaurs)

Last book: Finished Detransition, Baby (Torrey Peters) yesterday and loved how messy and raw it was! And fic-wise, I'm deep in catching up with @rsbigbang fics (and so in awe of everyone's talent)

Looking forward to: Some writing projects I've got coming up! A better month in February!

Tagging some of my newest muts and some old faves (ilysm 💚): @moongays @mkaugust @a-fiery-fox @onereyofstarlight @pancakehouse @munacy @brandileigh2003 @astranite @gumnut-logic

(No pressure at all! And I know some of you have probs already been tagged so please simply accept my love!)

#thank you for the tags!!!

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edutainer2022 · 14 days

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In commemoration of that time, recently, when I delivered a conference keynote in a ridiculous o'clock timezone, after having been up and neck deep in other energy draining university commitments for three days straight on four hours of sleep at best, here's a little thing. I couldn't remember what I was talking about the minute the presentation ended. Scott Tracy is a public speaker extraordinaire on bingo sleep and adrenaline overdose. His brothers are worried and have to think on their feet. Special thanks to @astranite for nudging my muse in this direction.

AUTOPILOT

The trick was to get him off the stage. Scott Tracy, the Tracy Industries CEO, giving an opening keynote at the New Frontiers Expo had been scheduled a year in advance (involving the program committee begging on hands and knees for a year prior, Scott's annual commitments shuffling, some major security concessions, up to and including Kayo's team practically taking over the venue security altogether, as well as meeting a hard line of excluding any tech associated with Langstrom Fischler from the exhibits or conference talks).

Nobody could predict a mine collapse and Scott Tracy, the Commander of IR and Thunderbird One, being involved on site for the past thirty six hours (a good portion of that time spent underground without sleep).

The family medics' quorum, in full agreement with the family extended quorum, voted for canceling his public appearance and putting him on mandated rest. For a week. But Scott Tracy gave his word. So Scott Tracy gave his talk.

As keynotes go it was a huge success. Scott was passionate, funny and inspired, engaging the audience with dimples, moving personal touches and heartfelt convictions. The listeners were just about ready to "boldly go" wherever Scott would lead the way to a better, technologically enhanced and kinder tomorrow.

They divided forces in case the predictable worse actually came to pass. Virgil was behind the podium with a med kit and med scanner at hand. Gordon unironically got a tranq gun, which earned him a side-eye, but knowing Scott it might as well come handy.

John was in the audience, vigilant and listening to the keynote (and rather enjoying biggest brother public speaking prowess - seriously, how did Scott do it, half-dead on his feet?), ready to step up and take over if need be. That wouldn't be what the hundreds of Expo attendees payed and donated to R&D funds for, but they'd be getting A Dr. Tracy, at least, if The Mr. Tracy collapsed mid-sentence.

That was just the problem at the moment. Scott didn't. He concluded the speech, got a standing ovation, and was now just sort of hanging out on stage, swaying slightly. It was obvious he was running on dregs of fumes of an adrenaline high, refusing to crash on sheer willpower. It was also obvious Scott was completely unfocused and unaware where he was and what he'd been doing the minutes prior. The brilliant blue eyes were getting telltale glassy.

John had a FRANTIC Virgil booming in his earpiece. The public spotlight made the logistics of what needed to happen next tricky: they couldn't just drag him off the podium in a firefighter hold or tranq him - and spoil the profound impression of the speech; they also couldn't wait much longer till Scott fainted in front of everyone (and possibly injured himself by the fall). John was half on his way up to try and steer Scott bodily off the stage. Gordon would have been a better man for the job - dressing the thing up with a quip and some theatrics, but the Fish was still in uniform. IR on site, crashing the keynote, might have set off unwelcome panic, dangerous in a crowded space.

In the end, it was still Gordon's out-of-the-box thinking that saved the situation. They could all hear a boy's voice through their earpieces - Alan went for the highest littlest-brother-in-distress pitch he could master:

"Scotty, could you come here? I'm right behind you! Scotty, please!"

Scott could hear it too. A less exhausted brain would have remembered Allie was on the island still. They agreed Scott would take him the next day on a tour around the Expo and to several talks the kid wanted to attend.

But Scott's bandwidth capacity at the moment was reduced to the most rudimentary parent-brain instincts. So he started slightly, turned on his heel and marched backstage. It took a bit of flailing to placate a wild-eyed Scott that a) Allie wasn't in danger; b) Allie wasn't there immediately available for inspection and protecting from danger.

It came as close as Gordon clicking the safety off the tranq gun. But finally, the blue eyes stopped searching the perimeter behind Virgil's shoulder and rolled back. Scott slumped as a ragdoll in Virgil's hold.

John rushed to join the brothers the moment he heard Alan on comms. In between the three of them they settled the Commander on a hoverstrecher. Virgil insisted on a quick scan on the spot. Nothing more serious beyond bruises, exhaustion, stress and dehydration. Small mercies. Every single one of them had a private itemized inventory of possible injuries Scott might have "forgotten" to mention in order to be cleared for the keynote commitment.

Kayo's security team were clearing the path for them, off the Expo busy routes, to leave for Thunderbird Two discretely.

John lingered to brush the fringe off Scott's now noticeably pale forehead. His original intent was to go straight back to orbit after the biggest brother was sorted out. But now, there was no way Grandma or Virgil would let Scott out of the infirmary for the next forty eight hours at least. Nor would Virgil let biggest brother out of his sight for at least twice as long after. So it would fall to John to take Alan to the Expo and show the boy around.

John didn't favor crowded bustling places on a good day, but it was crucial not to disappoint or worry the kid. Scotty unconscious, sedated and grounded would have him anxious enough. It was also a great bonding opportunity with the baby-brother and a way to lift a bit of weight off Scott's shoulders. John knew biggest brother enough to foresee he'd beat himself up for succumbing to weakness and letting Alan down. John couldn't have that. So he landed a hand for support on Gordon's shoulder and all together they started the way home.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a break #john tracy #john tracy didn't sign up for this #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #and thinks fast #alan tracy #features briefly #john tracy is a good brother #methinks i have astronomy #my fic #thunderbirds 2015 #tracy brotherdom of love

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