#FishTank Week 2023

[forest-falcon]

Inspired by @gumnut-logic 's wonderful Fauvism fic! If you haven't read it yet, do it!

[whatgaviiformes]

Fishtank Week 2023!

(thanks as always to @flyboytracy for the most perfect gifs) It's time to get out your green and yellow, friends. Since it's about to be May, we are fast approaching the exact day between Gordon's and Virgil's birthdays. What better time than the present to celebrate a Fishtank Week all for the love of our favorite artist, his fishy bro, and the shenanigans they get up to together?

The exact day is May 16th if you are curious, but just look at them. Don't you think they deserve a whole week?

Fishtank Week begins on Friday 12th of May and will go for a week, ending on Friday 19th of May.

We have a few special things planned, but to give you time to prepare, we have a prompt list for you below (1 for each day), and themes for the showcase. Prompts 12th - Beneath the Surface 13th - "I'll follow you" 14th - Fish Out of Water 15th - High Five 16th - Growing Up Tracy 17th - Co-pilot 18th - Arts & Sciences 19th - Where the sea meets the shore Showcase 12th - Color Palette - Green & Yellow 14th - AUs/Headcanons 16th - Crafting - We have so many amazing crafters in the fandom, + a good number of headcanons related to these two being the little fun artisans they are! Have anything Fishtank themed, (or Gordon or Virgil themed) in your artisan craft of choice?

Reblogs- All Week Long! Share your favorite fics, artwork, etc.

I hope you enjoy #Fishtank Week 2023

For the love of Fishtank, 💛💚 Gavii With help in brainstorming ideas from @katblu42, @onereyofstarlight, @gumnut-logic, @amistrio

[gumnut-logic]

“Hold still.”

“’irg’l, ‘m fine!”

“You’re not fine! Hold still!”

“’S only a bl’d nose.”

“I need to check it anyway. I hit you hard.”

“Lucky sh’t.”

“Hold still!”

Gordon let his shoulders drop and held still. Virgil was beside himself over this. It was obvious. It was only a blood nose, for crying out loud. It wasn’t like it was his first.

The scanner’s yellow light flickered over him and Gordon flinched. So damned bright.

Of course, this just set off Virgil even more. “We’re going to the infirmary.”

“’irg-“

“Now.”

Okay, that was an elder brother command. Gordon wasn’t stupid enough to disobey that. His shoulders dropped just that bit lower and Virgil’s gentle hand wrapped around his arm and led him from the gym.

“I’m sorry, Gords.” It was said with so much guilt, Gordon rolled his eyes.

Ow.

The hand on his arm tightened.

It was a lucky shot. There was no way in hell Virgil could best him in hand to hand. If Virgil pinned him, maybe. He had the mass and the strength. But Gordon was fast and his smaller stature a major advantage. His big brother couldn’t catch him on the best of days.

Except for today, apparently.

The infirmary loomed as they exited the elevator. It did that. Gordon hated any medical setting…for good reason…and the infirmary on the Island was no exception.

He was deposited on the bed with a firm but gentle nudge, told to sit upright and to tip his head forward.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, he knew the treatment for a nosebleed.

Blood tasted awful.

He closed his eyes a moment.

A soft touch to his face and blood was dabbed off his skin. A quiet rumble of query.

It repeated and a frown formed in the air.

A hand on his shoulder. “Gords?”

“Hmm?”

Ow. Virgil’s fist had definitely left a mark on his sinuses.

“You with me, Gordon?”

“Mmmmhmm.”

A rustle of instruments and a finger peeled back his right eyelid. A sharp flicker of light hit his retina and he flinched away. “’irg!”

“Hold still.” Strong hands made him do exactly that.

His reward was another finger peeling back his other eyelid and that retina being equally assaulted.

“’irg!” He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned as that caused his whole face to echo the pain in his nose.

Virgil didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go of the now firm grip he had on Gordon’s shoulder. A hum started up and Gordon let a breath out as the scanner flickered over him again. “’irg’l, ‘m fine!”

His brother still didn’t answer, but the bed under him shifted, its head rising under his right hand.

“Lie down.”

“’irg-“

“Lie down.” Okay, there was something in his brother’s voice that bore no argument. Gordon opened his eyes and found worry in his brother’s.

Those brown eyes blurred a little.

What?

He dragged his feet up onto the bed, his exercise sweat pants riding up above his bare feet. A shuffle and he had to admit it was a relief to have the back support, top half of the bed up as far as it would go. His head was throbbing. He must remember not to try and stop Virgil’s fist with his face ever again.

As to why his brother had managed to even touch him was a worry in itself. Virgil was good, but he wasn’t that good. Gordon had been dancing around him for years. As his co-pilot, Gordon saw it as part of his duties to help his brother with his hand-to-hand. Of course, between himself and Kayo, they helped all the brothers, even Scott who had his fair share of training in the Air Force. But Gordon had always had a special thought for Virgil. His brother was a wall of muscle, ‘built like a brick shithouse’ was the popular phrase. But muscle didn’t necessarily equate to good self-defence and Virgil was a softy from way back. There had been incidents with the occasional over zealous fan, but also one of Gordon’s nightmares was what would happen if someone with less kind intentions got a hold of any of his brothers.

Virgil was too damned nice for his own good.

So, Gordon took it on to look after him.

But today…why had he let Virgil hit him?

“What happened?” The deep voice of his eldest brother and Gordon realised his eyes had slipped closed again. Opening them was a mistake. The lighting in the room had apparently taken on nuclear fusion in an attempt to compete with the sun.

He groaned and shoved his eyes closed again.

“Gordon?” Virgil’s hand landed on his arm.

“You suck.”

“And you’ve got a concussion. I’m sorry, Gordon.”

What?

“Report, Virgil.” Great, the Commander was out which meant Scott was upset. It was only a bloody nose, for goodness sake.

Virgil’s sigh was a mix of worry and regret. “My fault. I hit him.”

There was silence for a moment. All Gordon could hear was his heartbeat in his sinuses.

“You hit Gordon?” Gordon should be proud at the amount of disbelief in his eldest brother’s voice. Or worried at his lack of confidence in Virgil’s skill.

One or the other.

Maybe both.

God, his head hurt.

“I shouldn’t have let him spar. But he was upset after today and I wanted to help.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I wasn’t much better, Scott!”

Oh, shit, Virgil. “’S not your fault.”

There was a lack of an answer and that worried Gordon more than anything Virgil could have said to him. He threw out a hand and scratched at a shirt. Fingers caught his, but they weren’t Virgil’s. “Sco’, ‘s not his fault!”

“Gordon, rest you have a stage two concussion. You know that is something you don’t mess with.”

Yeah, well, Virgil has a lot of muscle behind his fist.

Gordon let a breath out between his teeth and relaxed into the bed. Virgil was obviously pissed at himself and he would have to talk him around at some point.

Gentle fingers touched his face again. Soft cloth wiped a cool liquid across his skin.

“The bleeding has stopped.” Virgil’s baritone was quiet and worried. “However, there is some swelling….and there will likely be bruising.”

Swelling? Bruis-….aww, hell, he was supposed to be going out with Penny tomorrow night. A charity gala, it was important to her.

Hell.

“I’m so sorry, Gordon.” Little more than breath.

This just sucked.

He knew the results of an impact to that part of a face. He’d had to do it enough himself.

Then something else occurred to him.

“Did you break m’ noze?”

Silence.

“’irg?”

“Not broken. Hairline crack.”

“’uck!”

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

He flung out a hand again and this time managed a handful of cotton t-shirt. He dragged it closer. “’Snot your fault!”

Virgil didn’t answer, but his fingers were pried from that t-shirt and held for just a moment, only to be let go as Virgil moved away suddenly.

Gordon flailed, reaching. A footstep and those hands returned with something cold. Towelling, cold as ice.

Gentle hands gathered his and moved to his face. The cold pack melted into his skin and gave him some blessed relief.

“Hold that there.”

“’Snot your fault.”

Again, there was no answer.

A finger brushed hair from his forehead.

God, Virg.

“Rest, Gordon.”

He wanted to yell at his brother. It was a lucky shot after a sucky day. It wasn’t anybody’s fault.

“Rest.”

A blanket was draped over him and its warmth became something he hadn’t realised he needed.

“Grandma’s on her way back from Auckland.” Scott said it to the room at large.

Oh crap.

“Good.”

Gordon mentally went through what he had in his own fridge in his rooms and came up with very little. Maybe he could coerce Virg to grab him something otherwise he might expire from his grandmother’s ‘curative’ efforts.

“Don’t worry, Gordon. I have a stash. You’re covered.”

Actually, come to think of it, Virgil would probably go out of his way to do anything and everything for him over the next few days.

There was both glee and worry attached to that thought.

“Rest.” A hand returned to his forehead and stroked away what was likely a phantom hair. Virgil always had the urge to touch.

To heal.

Too good for his own good.

Those fingers slipped away again.

Gordon let himself sink a few more millimetres into the mattress.

Scott was still in the room. He could hear his breathing. Virgil was beside his bed.

He was safe.

His head hurt.

It had been an ass of a day.

Too tired to get out of the way of his brother’s fist.

Stupid move.

Stupid.

Virgil murmured something.

Scott whispered in return.

Gordon let himself drift.

-o-o-o-

[tracybirds]

For FishTank Week!! <3

I don't know how many more I'll be able to do but I knew from the second I saw the prompt "Beneath the Surface" what I wanted this fic to be :) Hopefully it comes across well. Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for the read through and reassurance and thanks of course to @gaviiadastra for creating the event and putting everything together <3

---

They live on a planet of oceans. Virgil knows this already, of course, has seen more of the Earth than most could dream of. For most his flights, there’s no land in sight for hours, no birds that glide through the air except his own.

Today, the sea is calm and he can’t hear the gentle swish of the waves, nor the whistling breeze across its surface. There’s an innocent satisfaction in the air, the waters calling to him in a language he feels he’s known his whole life, calling him to stay, to watch the world go by, to fall deep into its depths.

Virgil knows better.

He stays above, watching, waiting, listening for the jolt of static that connects him to Gordon below.

Gordon knows better too, but still he returns to her.

The song of the sea sinks deep.

Virgil exhales, banishing the creeping fear that something had gone wrong, that Gordon was in trouble, and lets the steady trill of his biometrics fill his ears.

A harsh alert rips through his calm and his eyes fly open.

“Virgil, report!”

It’s times like these that remind Virgil he’s the final link between Gordon and the rest of them, the only one close enough for the radio waves to penetrate the deep.

It’s a helpless task, but not a hopeless one. He is as much a beacon as he is a relay. He learnt long ago how to wait for his brother’s return.

He reaches for the comm. “Scott, I don’t have any updates. Four hasn’t moved, she’s still transmitting. The floor is stable and we just need to wait.”

“I don’t like it.”

Scott’s declaration is nothing new. Their eldest brother doesn’t trust anything he can’t control, covers his anxiety with certainty. But when it comes to the sea, only his feelings can be sure.

“I know,” says Virgil instead, one eye on the data flowing across the workstation, Four keeping up a steady stream of chatter in their brother’s absence. “He’ll be okay.”

Scott’s eyes tighten but he doesn’t say anything else.

The beep that registers the moment Scott disconnects echoes in the cockpit and Virgil is forcibly reminded that he is alone here. The space feels small when Gordon is here, but now it is cavernous and looming in its silence.

All he can do is wait.

…

The hours drip by.

Gordon’s life signs are steady and the rescue itself seems straightforward with no need for him to retreat to Four and request aid. There’s a familiar nonchalance to his words when they finally reach up, crackling through the radio, and Virgil squints and listens carefully to every tone that sings beneath his brother’s voice. It’s the only warning he’ll get if things have gone wrong.

But today there’s no sharp impatience or lilting sorrow and Virgil feels his muscles relax, aching as he stands and stretches for the first time in hours.

There’s no need to speak as they run through the usual manoeuvre to bring Four home. Virgil’s waiting with the medkit when the hatches open and two shaken submarine station workers come stumbling out.

It doesn’t take long to check them over and see Gordon’s done his job well – there’s nothing left to do except treat the shock.

Virgil leaves Gordon with them and calls ahead to the anxious authorities who alerted them; they’re on their way to deliver their friends and coworkers home.

Compared with the long, silent hours hovering over the waters, the trip seems to take no time at all and even the air feeling warmer with Gordon home.

Soon, they’re standing on the module’s ramp and Virgil’s speaking with the ambulance officer while Gordon chats with a very pale looking CEO.

He nods as Virgil wraps up, extracting himself from the conversation and bounding over to the two rescuees for a final farewell.

“Bye,” he says giving them each a hug, still chirpy despite the hours beneath the surface that ought to have left him utterly spent. “Give us a shout if you need us.”

The woman – Cathy – laughs, the hours of stress and fear melting away in Gordon’s care.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I hope I never see you again,” she says, eyes sparkling with a mischief that only Gordon could have imparted.

Gordon tries to pout, but his lips can’t quite help the smile that breaks loose.

“We’ll be here all the same,” says Virgil. “Just in case.”

They nod and smile politely at him, the stranger in blue and green, and hug Gordon one last time before stepping back on the dock and wave goodbye.

“Good job, Gords,” he says as the hydraulic system hisses and closes the ramp behind them. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Virgil,” says Gordon. “It got dicier than they know down there.”

There’s an edge in his voice that creeps in once the mask drops and Virgil looks at him sharply.

 “Do we need to look into their permits?”

“Nothing like that. They were too green to be down there alone, that’s all. But the people up here who authorise it, they never seem to know how easily things go wrong down there.”

It’s times like this that reminds Virgil that Gordon’s the only one who knows. They’ve all trained, of course they’ve all trained, but where John informs and Scott commands is a place only Gordon knows.

He swallows heavily, the roar of the ocean welling up between them. There’s an electricity in the atmosphere, the faint rumble of clouds closing in, the wind whipping the waves into a frenzy. Then the skies clear and Gordon lifts his head, sunny and bright once more.

This, Virgil knows. He knows better than anyone that his brother is the cold abyss as much as he is the warm, sparkling shallows. But he doesn’t know it like Gordon, doesn’t know the ins and outs of the ocean’s moods like he does.

He only knows that the calm above rarely reflected what went on below.

And he knows he will always be waiting above for the call to pull him back.

[katiedido2]

Co-pilots

I wrote this while recovering from covid. I'm hoping it makes sense.

It's a bit of light fluff between two brothers for Fishtank Week

Enjoy! 💚💛

-o-o-o-o-

Co-pilots

Gordon tugged at his collar for the fifth time in less than a minute. He paced the small, luxurious villa like a caged animal. Virgil noticed and exchanged looks with his father. 

Jeff nodded and went to the entrance of the villa. “Boys, let’s give Gordon a moment before he has to head down.” 

Scott, John and Alan glanced at Jeff and then Gordon before grabbing their things and heading out the open door.

Before he followed his sons, Jeff looked at Virgil. “Less than ten minutes, Virg.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Jeff nodded, and the door closed softly behind him, leaving the two brothers alone. 

“Are you okay, Gordon?” Virgil squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah, Virg. I’m just peachy….” Gordon ducked away from his brother. “Jesus, it’s hot….” He tugged at his tie. “What was I thinking insisting on a tropical wedding?”

Virgil slapped away Gordon’s hands. “Stop fussing. You’ll wrinkle the linen…You wanted a wedding on the water, and Penny thought you should have a say in your wedding?” He shrugged. “There are worse compromises than Fiji in the Spring.”

“Says the man who married in England in the Spring.”

Dark eyebrows rose. “When it was cold and raining…” Virgil sat on the window seat. “What’s going on, Gordon?”

Gordon paced again before stopping in front of his brother. “Would Penny hate me forever if we called this off?”

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Wow. Gordon….”

“I want to marry her!... I do!.. But…I wanted a simple wedding, Virgil. Not-” he waved his hands. “Whatever this is.”

“A twenty-guest destination wedding.”

“Virgil.”

“On a small resort on a tropical island.”

“Tank!”

“That we rented out for you.”

“I meant a courthouse wedding!”

Rolling his eyes, Virgil placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

“You and Penny agreed: a small intimate wedding on the water with lots of tropical flowers and a large, splashy reception for all your friends after your honeymoon… I almost wish we had done this. This is way better than an unheated Norman church. Warmer, too.”

“Stop that!”

“Stop what?”

“Trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m your best man, Gordon. It’s my job.”

Gordon sighed and ran his hands through his hair, causing it to stand on end. “Why am I freaking out? Penny is everything I’ve ever dreamed of…and more.”

“Nerves are normal.”

“Ha! You practically ran down the aisle.”

“I was trying to warm up.” Gordon gave him a look. “I was nervous before my wedding.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And I had Scott as a best man….”

“Oh, man. Smotherhen?”

“Compensation overload.”

“Jeez. But you forgave him for interfering long before your wedding.”

Virgil smiled wryly. “Yeah. Have you met Scott?”

“No wonder you ran down the aisle.”

The brothers laughed. 

“Oh. I needed that.”

Virgil reached up to tame Gordon’s hair. “Hold still…Are you good?”

“No.” He flapped his hands. “Still freaking….Tell me something that sounds fake but is totally true.”

“Scott was born seven months after our parent’s wedding.”

“That’s not what I-” Gordon stared at Virgil a moment before frowning. “Scott was premature?”

Wearing a shit-eating grin, Virgil shook his head. “Nope.”

Gordon’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit, Virgil! How did you find that out?”

“Grandma told me.”

Gordon’s jaw dropped. “No! You are shitting me.”

Virgil raised his hand. “Scout’s honour. She told me when I told her Becca was the one.”

“Wow…Dad and Mom got premarital busy…I’m a bit gobsmacked.”

“Dad confirmed it.”

“Wow…” A thought occurred to Gordon. “Hold on. We moved up the wedding because Becca’s due in November.”

“Yeah?”

Gordon did some quick math. “You knocked her up a month after you met?”

“Umm….” Virgil turned beet red. He should have anticipated someone - Gordon - would work it out. 

He sighed. 

They were expecting twins and wanted it to be a surprise. To account for Rebecca's size, they had subtracted a month from her actual due date, knowing this would imply she had gotten pregnant earlier than she had. 

Gordon gasped. “Virgil, you stud!” 

He doubled over laughing at the chagrined expression on his brother’s face. 

“Holy shit…and we tease Scott for being the speed demon.” He wiped the tears that were running down his face. “That was ballsy, bro.” This made him laugh even harder. 

“You’re going to tease me about this forever, aren’t you?”

Gordon gasped for air. “For…fucking…ever…Virg.”

Virgil watched him laugh, waiting for him to calm down. He checked his watch and saw he didn’t have that much time.

He sighed. Desperate times….

“I tried to convince her to let me knock her up the first time we had sex.”

Gordon stopped laughing and stared at his brother. 

“I knew that would shut you up,” Virgil said dryly.  

“Tank, you are shitting me.”

“Nope.” 

“What did she say?” 

“She said no.”  

“Wise woman.” 

Virgil nodded. “This conversation stays between us, Fish. Okay?”

“As God as my witness, Virg.”

“Good.”

“The first time?” 

Virgil nodded. “Thankfully, she has more sense than I do.”

“Obviously…You’re…you’re happy, aren’t you?”

Virgil crossed to his brother and placed his hands on his shoulders. “I had no idea it was possible to be this happy.”

“Really?”

“Yep. And once you see Penny walking down the aisle, you’ll feel the same.”

“You think?”

“I know. Hey, would I lie to my second favourite co-pilot?” He straightened Gordon’s tie. “Come on, Fish.” He lightly punched his shoulder and opened the door. “Let’s get you married to your mermaid.”

Virgil walked out into the sun. Gordon began to follow. 

“Okay.” He stopped. “...Second favourite?”

-fin-

[godsliltippy]

(A smidge late on the color palette, but they had to bloom first ;3)

[katblu42]

Bandit - FishTank week reblog

Another Wee Tracys fic. This time it's completely fluff inspired by (a prompt generated with the Wheel of Whump which gave me) the concept of "help eating" with a location of a "vent." It does fit today's FishTank Week theme though!

Note: I have no experience with these creatures, and no knowledge of housing construction (and a tendency to get very frustrated with researching stuff very quickly), so I apologise for any inaccuracies in those departments.

Bandit

At first he thought he was imagining it, but over the course of the last hour the little scratching noises had increased.  It was distracting him from his homework.  Something was inside his bedroom wall, he was sure of it.  Gordon wondered whether he should tell one of his brothers.  More specifically one of his older brothers.  Telling Alan would only get the kid excited and make rescuing whatever animal was stuck in the wall more difficult.

Scratch.  Scuffle, scratch, scrabble, scratch.

As quietly as he could, he slid the chair back from his desk, tip-toed to the wall and pressed his ear against it.  Nothing. He almost gave up, thinking perhaps whatever it was had gone somewhere else, or fallen asleep, then he heard a quiet swooshy movement – the kind his hand might make if he brushed it against the wall.  Scratch, scratch.  It was close now.  Low down, near the floor.  His eyes swept along the skirting board until he spotted the vent on the other side of his desk.

Hmm.  If he could get the vent open maybe he could spot the animal stuck in the wall and maybe even get it out.  On close inspection of the 8” by 6” vent cover he could see it was attached to the wall with 4 small screws.  He’d need tools.  And maybe snacks to encourage the animal to come out.  And maybe a box or something to put the creature in until he could relocate it outside.  Yep, he had a plan.  He darted out of the room to collect the items he needed.

Wham!  He darted straight into Virgil.

“Whoa!  Where’s the fire?”  Virgil caught hold of him by the shoulders, steadying him and making sure he was not about to hurt himself after bouncing off his bigger brother’s chest.

“Ooof!  Sorry, Virg.”  Gordon spoke almost at the same time, made sure his feet were solidly planted again and shrugged away from Virgil’s grip.  Curiosity and concern burned down at him from beneath raised eyebrows. He felt his own eyes betray him as he glanced back towards his room and back up to meet his brother’s gaze.

“What are you hiding in there?”

“Nothing, I swear!” Gordon put his hand over his heart. “It’s just … there’s a … I was just going to …”  He sighed – a physical thing involving his whole body – and his gaze fixed firmly on the floor for a moment.  When he finally looked back up at Virgil the familiar expression of patient calm he found there gave him the encouragement he needed.  “I think there’s an animal stuck in my wall and I need to get some stuff so I can see if I can rescue it.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow. That was all it took.  Gordon knew he had an ally.  He showed Virgil the vent he wanted to open, described the noises he’d heard and waited impatiently with his bigger brother until they both heard the noises again.  Virgil agreed to help him open the vent, suggesting a box to catch the animal in was a must, but perhaps they should hold off on the snacks until they discovered what type of animal it was and therefore what it might eat, and whether it needed coaxing out of the wall space.

While Virgil went to collect the right type of screwdriver and a couple of other tools (just in case), Gordon prepared a makeshift animal carry box.  He dumped the dirty laundry out of the plastic laundry bin from the corner of his room.  Its sides were a kind of latticework that would ensure the animal could still breath when he placed the lid on top.  He lined the bottom of the bin with a few towels so the creature would be comfy.

Virgil returned with the tools and a flashlight.  Together they moved Gordon’s desk so they had more room to work around the vent. Virgil made short work of the removal of the first 2 screws.

“Get ready with that nest of yours, Gordon,” he said as he lined up the screwdriver on the third screw. “Hold it close to the wall, below the vent, just in case the cover swings loose and the animal makes a run for it.”

It was at that moment Gordon remembered Virgil had a fairly strong dislike of rats and mice.  The expression of grim determination on his brother’s face suggesting he was forcing himself to continue his task despite the fear made Gordon feel kind of proud of him.

The third screw was removed, but the vent cover stayed firmly in place.  Virgil moved on to the last screw and Gordon kept the re-purposed laundry bin in place. This last one proved difficult to remove, rusted in place. With a grunt from Virgil and a slight cracking sound the screw finally began to move, and within a few turns of the screwdriver was moving more freely.  Once all the screws were out Virgil had to use a flat bladed driver to prise the top of the vent cover free from the wall.  Before removing it all the way he glanced at his younger brother, who nodded in confirmation that he was ready.  The cover came off the vent and … nothing happened.

Gordon let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and put the laundry basket nest down. The sudden release of tension in Virgil’s shoulders indicated his brother probably felt much the same way as he put the vent cover down, resting it against the wall.

“Let’s take a look,” Virgil suggested as he reached for the flashlight.  “See if we can see who’s in here, or something to show us what we might be dealing with.”

Gordon inched himself closer so he could see inside the vent as Virgil clicked on the flashlight and aimed it into the darkness.  The beam of light illuminated a small section of flexible ducting before it curved upward. Both brothers felt a little deflated at this result until they heard the scuffling noise close by.  Remaining silent and keeping the flashlight beam steady, they waited and were rewarded by the sudden appearance of a pair of eyes glowing back at them from a black, white and grey banded furry face.

“It’s a raccoon,” Virgil stated with an audible sigh of relief.  “It must have made a hole in the ducting there near the bend, look.”

As the little furry head disappeared again Gordon could just make out the ragged edges of the hole Virgil was trying to catch in the flashlight beam.  A frown creased his forehead as his attention turned to how they were going to get the little guy out.

“What are you thinking, Gordon?”

“Do you think Alan’s small enough to crawl in there and rescue Bandit?”

The look of horrified surprise on his big brother’s face, which quickly flickered through a glare in response to Gordon’s mischievous smile, before settling on mild confusion greatly amused the younger boy.

“You named the racoon Bandit?”

“Yep.”

“And you know Alan wouldn’t fit in there, and even if he did we would not be sending him in there after a wild animal.”  Virgil’s eye roll and head shake just amused Gordon more.

“I know, but it’s fun to see the faces you make when you think I’m being serious.”

“Ha ha.”  Virgil turned off the flashlight and shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, sitting back on his heels.  “We’re gonna need to figure out how to get this little guy – Bandit – out of there, and we’re gonna need to tell Dad about this.”

“We do?  Why?”

“Because Bandit is only a kit and that means his mom and the rest of his family could be in the house somewhere, probably in the attic.”

“Awww.”  Gordon’s features scrunched into his that’s-so-cute face.  “Mumma raccoon’s missing one of her babies.  We gotta get Bandit back to his family.”

“We have to get him out here first, Squid.”

“Snack time!”  Gordon stood up and was two steps towards the door faster than Virgil could react, then he suddenly stopped and turned back. “What do baby raccoons eat?”

Neither brother knew the answer to that question, so a quick internet search was carried out.  A trip to the kitchen was made and Gordon returned with two pairs of rubber gloves – because raccoons can carry rabies and it’s best to be as safe as possible – an old baby bottle with a little milk in it and a few different fruits and nuts.  They didn’t know whether Bandit had teeth yet or not, so the kit might not be ready for solid foods, but they also weren’t sure if cow’s milk would be suitable for a baby raccoon.

The first attempt at coaxing Bandit out of the vent involved placing a few berries and nuts as far into the ducting as Virgil could reach with the aim of attracting the little raccoon and then luring it out with a trail of food.  After a few minutes of waiting the scratching, scuffling noises were heard, a little black nose appeared through the hole in the ducting … then disappeared again.

Ten more minutes of waiting and no further activity passed before Gordon decided they should try some banana. He took prime position kneeling on the floor in front of the vent. Virgil moved over beside him aiming the flashlight, and holding the laundry bin nest at the ready.  Gordon held a few pieces of smooshy banana in his gloved fingertips and slowly stretched his arm as far into the vent as he could reach.  With his arm and the flashlight taking up most of the available opening he had to press his face up near the vent and look through one eye in order to see inside.

The two boys waited silently, listening for the tell-tale noises of movement within the wall cavity. It wasn’t long before Bandit made another appearance, the little black nose twitching as the kit cautiously emerged through the hole and tentatively advanced toward Gordon’s hand.  Gordon spoke words of encouragement to Bandit and tried to make coaxing “raccoon noises”.

“Come on, that’s it.” He made a few squeaky sucking noises through his teeth.  “Come get some yummy banana.”

The coaxing noises gave way to sounds Virgil recognised as Gordon’s too-excited-by-the-cute-animal-for-real-words vocalisations as Bandit began licking at Gordon’s gloved fingertips and making vocalisations of its own.  Each time the kit stopped licking Gordon inched his hand a little nearer to the exit of the vent and Bandit followed, drawn by the tantalising promise of more of the tasty fruit.  Bandit’s little paws tried to grab onto Gordon’s fingers, perhaps to stop them moving away, but the gradual progress towards the vent continued.

When Gordon had withdrawn his arm far enough for them to be able to see without the flashlight Virgil turned his attention to the prospect of containing the little critter.  He broke off a little more of the banana and placed it on the towels inside the laundry bin to encourage the kit inside.  Gordon was talking to Bandit again, softly, soothing, encouraging the kit to keep edging closer to the edge.  His hand was all the way out now, held just in front of the opening and Bandit’s head was tentatively peeking out into the room. The little nose still twitched, the tiny paws kept reaching out to hold fingers or bits of mushy banana.  Ever so slowly Gordon moved his other hand into position above the vent and while Bandit was busily focusing on the banana smeared hand he gently took hold of the kit and lifted him out.  Moving both hands in tandem, and with Virgil bringing the laundry bin close, Bandit was quickly transferred into the little nest. Gordon kept the hand with the food close to Bandit, moving it towards the banana pieces Virgil had placed in there. Soon Bandit was holding a piece of fruit in tiny paws and Gordon withdrew his hand altogether.

Making sure Bandit was as comfortable as possible the boys placed the lid firmly on the laundry bin, and shared a high five.  Now they just had to remove the fruit and nuts from the ducting, replace the vent cover, clean up the mess they’d made in Gordon’s room, tell their Dad about Bandit and the potential family of raccoons somewhere in the house, reunite Bandit with the rest of the family and safely re-home all the raccoons.  Should be easy, right?

[gordonthegreatesttracy]

It’s FishTank week!

Here be a story where I am playing my favourite game - annoy my brothers

😁

[whatgaviiformes]

An AU that just fits him so well.

Okay… this picture took way longer than I expected… but then I tried like a bazillion of brushes and filters and effects to play around with Clip Studio Paint. In the end I got a result I am mostly happy with, so here we go. 

Regency!Virgil and a random horse… 

[forest-falcon]

Just noticed the description didn't post for some reason. This is for @gumnut-logic & @gaviiadastra in honour of their wonderful Kermadec fics 💚💛

https://www.tumblr.com/gumnut-logic/665744840235122688/the-kermadec-whales-part-4?source=share

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46206997

[whatgaviiformes]

Ficlet: Where the sea meets the shore...

A/N Struggling to put words on the page, so I went comfort zone and I borrowed a prompt from FishTank Week. ‘Coz let’s be honest, my love for these two doesn’t stop and I didn’t create new during the week the way I wanted to. Just needed more time, that’s all.  

*****

The thing about Virgil is that he can easily get lost - in time, in creativity, in his own mind – and it’s the one thing about him that most stresses out Scott, irritates John’s nerves, and clashes with Alan’s hyperactivity. And sure, Gordon’s got his own lack of patience for this habit of their brother’s, but he also figures he owes him a little for all the raving he’s done about marine discoveries during their flights in Two.

He also kind of gets it, at least in a way he’s more willing to acknowledge. Just because John and Scott call their hyper-focuses “work.”

 Gordon understands that it’s just in Virgil’s innate nature to be so connected to - well, nature. Maybe he’s more able to meet him in that head space being a marine scientist. The subject just has to beat his lack of attention span, and then sure. He could spend hours watching tidepools, for example. And he has.

In any case, it’s his defense of Virgil that awards him the duty of finding him amidst wherever his head has found itself among the clouds and bringing him back to Earth, and the villa, before nightfall. Not that Gordon minds. He would’ve offered anyway once John told him where his heat signature was located. The rock beach is beautiful at sunset.

He expects to find him with his paint kit, but without a canvas in sight the familiar figure in flannel sits atop one of the larger rocks near the shore that’s speckled with the same slick shine of the other stones surrounding. At high tide, it breaches the surface of the water safe from all but the slight spray. As long as he’s careful with his footing, and there’s not a storm brewing, the rock is as good a perch as any.

But it’s one of Gordon’s spots, not one of Virgil’s.

“You’ve been out here long enough to see the tide turn over,” he calls, announcing his arrival as he steps carefully over the still wet stones and pebbles. Knowing himself, and knowing Virgil, he does try to keep his voice from booming. Virgil startles anyway, but he’s not steady number two for nothing.

“Gordon!”

“I expected you to have your paints,” Gordon admits, nudging his way into part of the rock seat next to him. “What’s caught your eye out here?”

Virgil lowers the hand he’d offered as Gordon made his way over (just in case). “More my ear,” he says. “I’ve just been listening.”

“All this time?” he chuckles. Any stresses Gordon carries don’t linger long, as he’s used to releasing them with the ocean drifts. So the sounds that have caught Virgil’s ear are familiar and friendly, and he finds his shoulders lowering with ease now that he’s found Virgil safe in mind and body, hugged close by a phenomenon so close to his own heart.

“There’s a whisper,” Virgil tries to describe with wave of his hand, “where the sea meets the shore.” His expression pinches with concentration. “A ripple. Can you hear it?”

Not a strange question coming from Virgil, who often could hear music where his siblings could not.

“I call it susurrus.” A smile slides across Gordon’s face, as he closes off the world around him to lull into the single murmur of the waves lapping on shore. “Don’t look at me like that,” because he can feel Virgil’s eyes on him. “I retained some of the SAT words John gave me. It comes from Latin. Actually, does mean murmur.”

“Su-sur-rus,” he echoes with the seafoam.  “Even the word sounds like a whisper.”

“Hmm.” His curiosity mounts, and he must ask, “So what does the sea whisper to you?” Although he shakes with the vulnerability of the question, his voice is firm and does not betray the insecurity he suddenly feels over the immediate quiet in this place he loves so fiercely.

“It’s not a call,” Virgil says eventually, contemplating even as he pins Gordon with his gaze, as that’s what it’s always been for him. As amusing as it is to joke that he should’ve been born a merman, there’s some truth to the fact that the sea has welcomed his soul into her depths, and Gordon’s ear is well attuned to her calls, her furies, her tempests, her caresses. “For me, it’s like she wants me to listen closer to her secrets.” Then, Virgil laughs. “Mischievous. The sound reminds me very much of you. Always teasing, but never telling.”

“Eh. She led you to my secret spot,” he counters, grinning. “That’s one down.”

“So she did.”

[gumnut-logic]

It was one after the other. That was nothing new but this time Gordon called it.

Virgil was the medic in the family, but Gordon was the psychologist.

Well, not by any qualifications and he would never attempt to psychoanalyse any person not a member of their family, but he had to say that he had umpteen degrees in knowing his brothers.

And this brother needed downtime.

He could have said ‘Virgil, stop.’ But his brother was as stubborn as they come and the immediate response would have been to rebel and ‘do the right thing’ which would have involved launching into the next rescue.

So what Gordon did was much more subtle and over the top.

He had a reputation to maintain after all.

Before they could launch from the grassy mountain top in Austria, Gordon dumped all their equipment where it was supposed to go…and then he bolted.

“Gordon, what the hell?”

But he was already far enough for that baritone to fade just a little.

Before his irate brother could switch to comms, Gordon contacted Five. “Johnny, he needs a rest.”

John sighed. “Gordon, there are ways.”

“Yeah, and this one will work.”

“It’s your funeral. Redirecting to the GDF.”

“Good. Make them earn their pay.”

“Gordon…”

“Sorry, busy avoiding the bear. Speak to you soon.” He cut off his comms.

Said bear was still quite a distance away, but his glare had a long range. Not to mention his stalk. Gordon paused and looked back as Virgil strode through the knee-high grass and wildflowers.

He needed a diversion and he needed it now.

Flowers.

Gordon plopped himself on the grass, grabbed the nearest two daisies and started weaving them together.

Arty and crafty, Virg could never resist.

Gordon suddenly knew how Muhammed might feel if the mountain ever came to him.

And leant over him, frowning fit to split something.

“Gordon, what the hell are you doing.”

“Taking a moment.” He threaded one daisy into the other.

Daisies were their mothers favourite flower, weren’t they? Virgil claimed that they were.

Gordon had no memory of that.

“We have another situation.” Virgil gesticulated towards his ‘bird.

“Nope. GDF is taking it.” Gordon grabbed another flower. “You need to sit down and relax, bro.”

Virgil’s lips were pressed together so hard they had lost circulation.

Time for an earnest little brother to intervene. He put everything young he had into his voice. “John agrees. I’m tired, you’re tired, sit down a moment. Hell, enjoy the Sound of Music landscape. Julie Andrews was always your fav. I’ve certainly heard you singing her stuff enough.” His lips curled. “I dare you to run across this hill top singing with your arms flung out.”

His brother’s dark eyes widened and honestly Gordon could tell he was caught between anger and the need to either rest or simply explode.

Or maybe even run across the hilltop like Julie Andrews.

Gordon could always hope for that kind of footage.

The cool breeze played with Virgil’s hair, picking at it like a bird.

Gordon kept up the ‘little brother’ expression and watched every muscle in his big bro’s body slowly relax. Remove the rescue, remove the responsibility, and he could usually peel Virgil back to the kind but tired man he was, and derail the emergency responder responding.

This was usually the point where the medic caught up with exactly what Gordon was doing and…

“You’re an ass.”

Right on time.

Gordon grinned up at his brother and wove another daisy into his garland. “Sit down, Virg. Take a load off.”

A glance back at his ‘bird, a gaze around their immediate vicinity – hmm, maybe some of that security protocol Kayo had been trying to drill into Virgil’s head was actually working – and his big brother sighed, sinking down into the grass.

Gordon was still grinning, but he let it slip into a smile and started singing quietly…”How do you solve a problem like a Virgil?”

“Shut it, Squid.”

“Aww, but you love to hear me sing.”

He got a grunt for that.

He held out his half-completed garland. “Here, use all those arty engineering skills and finish this.”

Virgil stared at him a moment longer, something unidentifiable in his eyes, before he grabbed the garland and did exactly what Gordon wanted him to do.

See, psychologist.

The next step was to wind him down just a little more and music was always the key to this brother. So, plucking another daisy, Gordon started humming ‘Wildflowers’, one of his relaxing favourites.

The arched eyebrow he got for that one was hilarious.

 You belong among the wildflowers

 You belong on a boat out at sea

 Sail away, kill off the hours

 You belong somewhere you feel free.

And yes, there was a small smile forming on his brother’s lips.

Honestly, Virgil was so easy to manipulate if you knew how.

Not like John or Scott…they were just hard work.  

While weaving his own flowers and humming away, he watched Virgil slowly wilt over his own pile of flowers.

Honestly, you only had to get the man to pause on his headlong rush to save the planet and his actual condition would start to shine through.

The breeze wafted over the grass causing ripples. Snow-topped mountains, birds in the trees off in the distance, everything was just beautiful.

Virgil’s eyelids started to droop.

Gordon continued to hum and intentionally fake-ignore his brother while stringing more flowers.

Virgil’s flowers dropped onto the ground.

On the surface, it was ridiculous for International Rescue operatives to be chaining daisies in the middle of a field miles from nowhere. But the rescue had been the most recent of far too many and the fact he had managed to get his brother out here in the first place was clearly a sign that a break was needed.

Virgil was literally falling asleep where he sat.

Exactly why flying back hadn’t been a great idea.

Scott would be proud.

Here’s hoping John or Allie had that big bro in hand.

Gordon continued to hum and before long, he was joined by soft snores as his big brother drifted off to sleep sitting amongst the daisies.

Gordon resisted the urge to smile, almost broke a few muscles with the effort, in fact. Virgil just looked adorable with flowers in his lap and such peace on his face.

He needed it. Hell, Gordon needed it. But one Tracy brother at a time.

Eventually, Gordon was able to let off the humming and their soundscape was reduced to the breeze and birdsong. It was lulling and ever so peaceful.

But he continued to weave flowers together enjoying the quiet moment and the soft sound of his brother’s breathing.

Which was interrupted by a snort as Virgil toppled sideways.

Gordon moved.

Fast.

It wasn’t a conscious thought, just action. After all, it wasn’t as if Virgil was going to hurt himself falling over in the grass, but priorities…

Somehow he did manage to leap fast enough to catch Virgil before his head hit the ground. A sign of reflex if nothing else. But he ended up with his hands full of sleeping and very heavy big brother.

And grimy. Virgil definitely smelt like hard work.

Gordon wrinkled his nose and lowered him gently down to the grass. His brother immediately rolled over and flopped onto his back, and Gordon had to move quick or be squashed.

Virgil wriggled a little and went back to snoring, this time much louder than earlier.

Sitting back on his heels, Gordon did take this opportunity to smile down at his big brother. The man was a goofball of his own definition. Here he was, lying in a field, amongst giant mountains with scenery fit for a major musical, and he had dirt smudged on his nose and a caught flower in his hair.

Gordon blinked.

Flowers in his hair?

His smile grew into a grin.

Scampering quietly back to his half-finished garland and gathering up the discarded and partly squashed remains of Virgil’s, wove them together into a crown.

Reaching over ever so carefully, he placed the flowers in Virgil’s hair. His brother’s hair gel was plenty stiff and fully capable of supporting Gordon’s creation.

Leaning back he checked his composition.

Virgil kept on snoring, white petals fluttering on each exhale.

Perfect.

Phone out, photo and video taken…okay, several photos and videos from several different angles, some cropped and artistically edited, and sent to certain family members on the other side of the planet.

He flicked his phone to silent as replies came flying back.

In amongst the smart-ass comments were two lines from Scott that stuck to Gordon’s heart.

 Thank you for looking after him.

 Don’t forget yourself.

Gordon sat back down on the grass and stared at those words.

Perhaps he was more obvious than he thought.

But the sun was warm on his cheeks and Virgil was safe, and there were more flowers to weave together, particularly if he was going to decorate Two on the way home.

So Gordon sat chaining daisies together, in a field, on a mountain, humming to himself in his own musical.

Watching his big brother sleep.

-o-o-o-

@godsliltippy ‘s gorgeous art can be found here :D

[katblu42]

Deep Water (FishTank week reblog)

In honour of FishTank week I had to reblog one of my favourite projects that I've worked on. It was a collaboration between myself and @thatkidwholikesthunderbirds for the TAG Mini Bang in 2021, and they made some wonderful, adorable and gorgeous art for the story we came up with.

Read here or on AO3 and check out some of my favourite WeeFishTank art!

[forest-falcon]

Fishtank Week 💚💛

[whatgaviiformes]

Remember that dream yarn from day 1?

This one's going to take awhile, but eventually this should be a FishTank shawl. I went adventurous with using this to practice knitting with finer yarn (this is fingering weight), but I think knitting is fantastic at showing off the luscious colors of hand-dyed.

I'm excited about this one!

[whatgaviiformes]

He's got an... interesting... perspective.

:D

Here you go @thunderbirds-are-fab ! In my mind these two are at a casual art exhibition hosted by Penny and this is one of many "inspiring" thoughts from Gordon 🖌🎨

Based on this