#Gordon Tracy Addition

[overlordraax]

Image description: fanart of the five Tracy brothers from the classic version of Thunderbirds. They stand in a line going from oldest to youngest: Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon and Alan. Underneath is text readin "Back your boys at international rescue". End description.

✨ Back your boys at International Rescue! ✨

[tagsecretsanta]

From @idontknowreallywhy

From @idontknowreallywhy to @womble1

My prompts were:

1. There's no such thing as a free lunch.

2. The sound of laughter.

3. Sirens blared, warning of the approaching...

Things went a little… bizarre 🤣 (Apologies in advance for the earworms)

A Refrigeration Situation

Sirens blared, warning of the approaching apocalypse.

Or at least that was the impression the sociopath who had chosen this frantic tri-tone screeching sound clearly wanted to inflict upon the eventual owner of their top of the range high tech appliance.

The very one Virgil was about to take a wrench to. A heavy wrench.

Except that doing so would mean he had to remove at least one of the hands he had clamped hard over his ears. And he was not ready for that yet.

His teeth vibrated at the frequency of unbearable and he yelled Brains’ name again. No way of knowing if there was a reply because he would likely never hear again.

Alright, deep breath. It was no worse than that time Gordo tried to learn the bagpipes.

He shuffled closer to the cursed thing and peered at the luminous green and yellow message flashing from the excessively complicated control panel.

TEMPERATURE WARNING!

Oopsie!!! Too toasty right now!

… what the?

Virgil prodded the “more info” button with his elbow and was rewarded with an error code and a string of screaming face emojis.

“EOS?!” He bellowed above the din “You have the manual for this thing? What is Error Code S1E11?”

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The first indication that everything had gone sideways was when MAX shot through the living room and out again bleeping frantically and waving his arms around. This didn’t cause much of a flickering of Tracy eyelids because it had happened so many times before when Brains had started musing about extreme upgrades to his mechanical assistant. As MAX’s personality developed, so it seemed did his sense of self and his attachment to his physical form. Brains did not share this attachment and thus MAX continued to evolve and generally came to enjoy the additions to his capabilities eventually. Virgil remained unconvinced that MAX’s new ability to hover 6cm above the floor was really worth the shrill daggers of noise produced by six tiny VTOL jets but most of Brains’ inventions came in handy in unexpected ways so he wasn’t about to argue.

What made today’s demonstration of those rockets weird though, was that MAX zoomed straight out of the glass doors, off the balcony and into the swimming pool.

Whereupon he sank like a stone.

And stayed there. His inflatable water wings remained inactive, which again was odd because the trigger was supposed to be automatic. They’d seen them in action on many sunny afternoons when Brains firmly refused all invitations to join the pool party but his robot assistant had attended in his stead.

Gordon promptly dived in to rescue him. MAX refused to be rescued.

There was no response on the internal comms so Virgil had volunteered to take the elevator down to Brains’ lab to let him know. And to check everything was… well… alright with their resident genius.

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The speaker by the ceiling crackled into life and Virgil’s digital niece appeared to be singing at him. Loudly. And just a fraction of a fraction off key:

“Why’d ya have to make things so complicateeeeeeeed?”

“EOS?”

“I see the way you’re acting like you’re someone else, gets me frustrateeeeeeeed!”

“Um… right.”

Virgil stood frozen in the confluence of two sonic hellscapes.

“We might have a situation!” EOS’s feed was suddenly cut and replaced with his brother’s shout.

John materialised with Brains at his heels.

“You don’t say.” Virgil yelled back.

“We have to shut it down.”

“Right! It’s painful!”

“Not the noise the whole…“ John waved his tablet at the fridge and continued at the top of his voice. “EOS is in defence mode - when she detects a hostile digital presence she sings at it and refuses to accept any incoming data. I suggested it as an improvement to the LALALALALALALA approach she took with me.”

“You suggested Avril Lavigne?!”

“She’s going through a… phase.”

“EOS is going through a pop punk phase?”

“Last week it was Irish boybands. There was… a discussion. My musical tastes were found lacking and I have deemed it prudent not to comment any further on the topic.”

Virgil was saved from working out how to tactfully respond by the remainder of his brothers thundering down the corridor.

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“Oh! It’s just Fridgey!” Gordon skipped up, confident he could save the day and double tapped the control panel in the top right, just like the saleswoman had shown him. The noise stopped. Virgil remained frozen in place, looking as though somebody had hit him with a spade.

Scott prised his brothers’ hands from his ears.

“Virgil, you with us?”

Scott patted the bear on the shoulder then shifted The Look at him.

“Gordon, did it come with a manual?”

“Pfft what comes with a manual these days? It’s all inbuilt…” he poked at the control panel again but the error code persisted. “Ok maybe we could Google it?”

John hissed.

“Or any search engine or hacking method of your preference, Johnny boy”

“Don’t call me Johnny. What’s the model number?”

“Ooh no idea err….” Gordon swept his eyes over the front face of the refrigeration unit until his eyes alighted on the embossed text on the bottom left.

“It’s called FRIDGLER 4000”

Scott’s head snapped up.

“YOU BOUGHT A FRIDGE FROM FISCHLER???!!!”

There was a silence.

“LANGSTROM FISCHLER???!!!”

Oh crap.

“I didn’t know it was him!!! I thought he just made weather stuff!! And stupid rockets! I just thought it was a cute name for a fridge! I… I was more focussed on the Features.”

“What feature could possibly be more important than it being made by that… by that…” Scott, aware of Grandma’s approach from the elevator, reached for an appropriate word but floundered.

“Rat-faced weasel?” Alan ventured and then blushed as he received his eldest brother’s finger guns of approval.

Gordon didn’t need those. He didn’t. But he did desperately need to justify himself.

“It was the biggest I could get for the budget you gave me! It was internet-linked to make the grocery run easier - Grandma liked that! And it had cool features like the snow cone maker, everyone has enjoyed those! And… and the instafreeze Virg and Brains have used that loads for their espresso cubes this summer… and there was that special humidity-controlled section to stop your pie crusts getting soggy, Scooter! You weren’t complaining about that!!!”

Gordon looked around at a full house of angry Tracy eyebrows.

“I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS GONNA GET SENTIENT AND START FIGHTING EOS.”

John pointed one shaking finger at the sickeningly cute animation of a bubbling conical flask beaming happily at them all from the control panel.

“None of you noticed it either…” that may have been whinier than Gordon was proud of.

Maybe it was the reminder that his little brother appreciated the importance of a reasonably firm crust that softened the big brotherly heart. Maybe it was just the realisation that said crusts were unchilling… and fast. Either way? Scott intervened just as Alan opened his mouth to add his verbal interpretation of John’s silent scorn.

“Alright. This isn’t getting us anywhere. What we need to focus on is how to fix the situation. Our first priority has to be saving the food else it’s gonna be a lean, lean Christmas.”

Vehement agreement filled the air.

“What are our options? The kitchen fridge has limited free space. Hmmm. Brains, can we use your cold storage in the lab?”

“Ah w-well there are a f-f-few p-p-p-projects whose g-gaseous em-missions m-might interact p-p-p-p-problematically w-with items intended f-for human c-c-c-c-consumption…”

“You’ve been making new engine coolants again.” John stated with a sigh.

“Y-yes. Incredibly t-t-toxic.”

“We can’t risk a toxic turkey.” Virgil mused.

“Or a noxious nut roast?” Alan added tentatively.

“Or lethal lebkuchen dough!” Gordon accepted Alan’s high five.

“Or fatal figgy pudding” John added in a disarmingly perfect British accent.

“Or soggy crusts.” Scott added distractedly, poking cautiously at the twinkling control panel

Gordon was shook. His facepalm echoed down the corridor. “BRO… you wound me deeply! “Poisoned pie” was right there for the taking. RIGHT THERE.”

Scott was spared the shame of acknowledging this failure by a sickeningly cheery voice blaring out from a hidden speaker.

“Good Evening Insert-User-Name-Here! You have activated Voice Control, you clever sausage. Please speak your command loudly and cheerfully!”

Scott swore under his breath as his siblings chorused their disapproval.

“W-well it m-might work.”

Even as the words left his mouth Brains rolled his eyes at his own optimism. Gordon felt compelled to defend the indefensible.

“It might! He’s got to get lucky sometimes, right?”

Brains snorted.

“Well what choice do we have?” Virgil gestured at Scott to give it a go.

Scott nodded and visibly steeled himself as if about to leap into an abyss. He cleared his throat and used his clearest most commanding voice:

“Set refrigeration temperature to 2 degrees Celsius.”

“Oooh someone’s a grumpy pants. Give it another go.”

“What?!!”

“I don’t think it was cheerful enough bro.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” Scott rolled his eyes and tried again.

“Oooh someone’s a grumpy pants. Give it another go.”

“I’M PERFECTLY CHEERFUL! I AM A RAY OF SUNSHINE!”

“Scotty Scotty Scotty…” Gordon inserted himself between the control panel and the man who appeared ready to break it with his face. “Allow me.”

“Hey hey fridgey buddy! It would be awesome if you could maintain a steady refrigeration temperature of two degrees Celsius. Thanks a million!”

There was a slight pause.

“Hmm your accent’s a bit funny isn’t it but I think I got it. Switching to proving drawer mode. Target temperature 38 degrees Celsius. Your rise is going to be GLORIOUS!”

Ah.

“NONONONONOOOOOOOO!!” Scott howled and yanked on the handle which refused to budge.

“Uh uh! No peeking! Patience is the most important ingredient in bread making. I’ve cleverly applied the locks so you won’t be tempted!”

“You’re a fridge!!! Make it cold! Make it COLD!! Don’t ruin my crusts!” He sank to his knees and hammered on the door as if his beloved pastry might hear and open it from the inside.

Gordon, detecting a dangerous deterioration in his elder brother’s grip on sanity, shuffled hurriedly backwards. Virgil growled and ran from the room.

John stabbed at his tablet “Unbelievable! This thing is unhackable. The code is completely illogical. I think this part is the dna sequence of a banana…”

Alan nodded seriously as if he too could recognise the genome of any given fruit on sight. John sighed.

“EOS? It’s me. Please engage? This is an emergency situation.”

The AI passionately informed him that he was a skater boy.

Alan edged himself towards the control panel and peered at it thoughtfully. Perhaps it was something Game Theory could help with.

The happy conical flask bubbled innocently at him as if to say “Press me! Go on! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I w-would advise against…”

Brains advice was interrupted by the sound of the door at the end of the corridor flying off its hinges and the familiar hiss-whine of an exo-suit powered by angry eyebrows. NOTHING and NOBODY would make Scott beg and remain in one piece.

Alan pressed the button. A twangy guitar riff was followed by the cheery voice crooning “oooh, baby”.

Alan took personal offence and punched it. The track increased in speed:

“OohbabyoohbabyIt'smakingmecrazyit'smakingmecrazyEverytimeIlookaroundlookaroundEverytimeIlookaroundeverytimeIlookaroundit’sinmyfacehowvbizarrehowbizarrehowbizarrehowbizzzzz”

Virgil emitted something akin to a war cry and tried to reach around his sobbing elder brother to rip the door from the cursed appliance when suddenly everything went quiet.

Kayo walked around the side of the fridge holding a cable with a plug dangling limply from the end.

Grandma gasped. Alan blinked. Brains’ jaw dropped. Scott sniffled. Virgil’s exo-suit wheezed as he sagged in relief. John head butted his tablet.

Gordon sat on the floor and laughed hysterically.

Kayo handed the plug to Virgil who crushed it with his pincers.

Scott scrambled to his feet and dragged the door open and the family feasted their eyes upon their festive bounty.

“Well, we’d better get all this upstairs to the other fridge then? hadn’t we?” Grandma decided to take charge.

“But there isn’t enough space in the upstairs fridge.” Alan whispered.

“We’ll have to prioritise.” Grandma’s tone shifted to that of a doctor giving bad news.

With a yelp, the Commander of International Rescue leaped forward, grabbed three boxes of pies and sprinted for the stairwell.

The others watched him leave.

“Shall we take the rest in the elevator?”

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True to his role as the resident genius, Brains’ suggestion that the best way to avoid waste was to eat most of it today had cheered the family up no end. Scott, John and MAX (who had finally emerged from the pool) cooked up a storm in the kitchen and created the largest and most eclectic Christmas Dinner Tracy Island had ever seen.

John had persuaded EOS to restore contact and she was providing a soundtrack of Christmas hits interspersed with her favourite festive jokes. Gordon and Kayo were competitively decorating a lebkuchen penguin army. Gradually the basement fridge was emptied.

Virgil and Alan did the last run which turned out to be armfuls of cheeses of indeterminate vintage. Trying not to breathe too deeply, Virgil kicked the door closed and Alan stuck his tongue out at the errant fridge before they turned their backs and walked companionably towards the elevator.

The control panel flickered.

Very faintly, at the very limit of human hearing, there was the sound of laughter.

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[loopstagirl]

Bad Day

For @febuwhump day 2: Holding Back Tears

Warning: Strong language

TW: Suicidal themes

John sipped from the take-away cup as he traversed the familiar corridors. He didn’t need to look at the signs any longer. 

“GET OUT!” 

“Shit.”  

He ran, ignoring the scalding the liquid spilling over his fingers. They weren’t supposed to be back yet. He should’ve had had 9.5 minutes to make it back to the room and be ready for however the session had gone. But they were back early. He didn’t need Gordon’s shout to know that it hadn’t been a good session. 

The room felt full when John burst in. The physical therapist, doctor, and two nurses were crowded around the bed. Gordon was resisting as much as he could. 

“No, I don’t want – just leave me – no!” 

“Hey.” John didn’t notice when he put his drink down but he had both hands free as he slipped through the crowd. The nurse was attempting to reattach Gordon’s IV while the others were looking close to holding his brother down. Which felt ironic given only Gordon’s upper body had any movement.  

“I’ve got this.” 

The nurse backed away. They’d been in this position enough times over the last few weeks. They’d ended up teaching John how to do the IV himself, knowing that Gordon got more and more agitated the longer he felt he was being crowded. 

“I can’t breathe,” Gordon muttered, his pain-filled gaze finding his big brother’s. 

“Yes, you can.” John glanced around. “I’ve got it,” he repeated in a firm tone this time. Three out of the four people left. The doctor made a note on Gordon’s chart, nodded at John, and followed his colleagues out the door. 

Gordon immediately exhaled loudly. John pulled round a chair, making sure to give his brother space. Gordon had never been one for claustrophobia beforehand, but John figured being trapped in a destroyed hydrofoil as the water rushed in was enough for anyone not to like being enclosed. He’d give his brother time to calm down before reinserting the line. Although he wanted to get the pain meds into Gordon has quickly as possible, he didn’t want to agitate him further. 

Breathing heavily, Gordon looked away from John.  

“Not a good day?” John asked quietly. He didn’t need Gordon to tell him the session had gone badly. Some days, there was a hint of movement in his lower body. Other days, Gordon was full of his usual optimism, adamant to keep trying no matter what his treacherous body was doing. 

Then there were days like today. They were less common than they’d been at the beginning now some of the other injuries had healed and weren’t radiating additional agony through his broken body. But the days when Gordon didn’t want to fight; didn’t want to try; didn’t want to hurt... Those were the days that broke John’s heart, even though he had to keep that to himself. 

“Go away,” Gordon muttered. “You’ve got better things to do than sit here.” 

“Not really,” John said casually. He balanced his foot on the opposite knee and retrieved his coffee from where he’d put it. 

He was fortunate, so fortunate, to be between missions. He wasn’t sure if it was his Tracy name or just because the commander liked him. But he’d been allowed to take some extended leave, despite knowing it would be a hard slog to get back to optimal conditions before being allowed on the next flight.  

He didn’t care how hard he had to work: it would be nothing compared to what Gordon was going through. They’d convinced Virgil to go back to college and Scott had had no choice but to return to the Air Force or face a disciplinary. Not that he cared, but whatever their dad had said had finally got through to him once he realised John was staying. Likewise, Alan had been forced back to school. They all called every day. 

Gordon’s entire body was rigid with tension. John could only guess how much that was hurting him right now. He glanced at the IV and Gordon seemed to sense it. 

“Go on then,” he said. His tone was bitter. It was so unlike the happy man he’d been just 24 hours before the crash. But John couldn’t blame him. Pain was exhausting. “Drug me up. Make me sleep. Means you don’t have to deal with me.” 

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Dealing with you?” 

“You can’t want to be here. You’ve got a career. You’ve got something you love still waiting for you. You can’t want to sit by a cripple’s bedside.” 

“Gordon.” His tone was a warning. Despite being in pain, despite having a bad day, Gordon still reacted to having a big brother in the room. 

“What? Why shouldn’t I call myself that? It’s what I am. I still can’t feel my feet. I can’t move my legs. Probably never will again. Everything I was, everything I wanted, none of that matters anymore.” 

It was nothing Gordon hadn’t said before, but that didn’t make it any less painful to hear. John kept his expression neutral. Any sort of reaction would be the wrong one. 

“The doctors are still optimistic. You should be, too.” 

“Fuck off.” 

It was only because Gordon was facing away from him that John allowed himself to close his eyes for a few seconds. There was no getting through to his little brother when he was like this, and John hated it. He was supposed to be an expert at communication: there had to be something he could say. 

Instead, he stood up. With deft, well-practised movements, he connected the IV to the catheter in Gordon’s arm. He didn’t say anything until he saw some of the tension leave Gordon’s body as the pain-meds kicked in. 

“It’s going to be okay, Gordy,” he murmured. 

Gordon shook his head. “No, it’s not.”  

He still refused to look at John. “I can’t live like this. I can’t take it anymore. I wish I’d never woken up from that coma. I wish I’d never even gone into a coma!” 

John knew what he meant. He didn’t mean that he wished he’d stayed conscious for the entire time. 

“Gords-,” 

“I can’t do this.” His breath hitched on a broken sob. “I can’t do this.” 

John didn’t say anything. For once, he didn’t have the words. He rested a hand gently on Gordon’s shoulder. When his brother finally looked back at him, the expression on his face made John’s heart shatter into a thousand pieces. It took every ounce of his strength keeping that from his own expression, though. It wouldn’t help Gordon. 

“Let me go, Johnny,” Gordon whispered. 

“Never.” John said fiercely. He lent forward until he rested his forehead against his little brother’s. “Never.” 

He could tell from the way Gordon was going slack under his grip that it hadn’t just been pain medication in the drip. He wasn’t surprised. The main thing that Gordon needed when he was having a day like this was sleep. A chance to let his body heal without having to be conscious of broken bones knitting themselves back together, nerves fighting to join up, joints working out which way they were supposed to go. 

John waited until Gordon had gone under before he straightened up. He swallowed hard, biting his lip as he looked around the room. His brother would be out for a few hours. Suddenly, John found he couldn’t be here. Not right now. 

He hurried from the room, lifting his hand to a nurse as he did so. The hospital staff had got so used to there always being someone in Gordon’s room that the family tried to let them know when he was being left alone, just in case. 

John walked without thinking. He didn’t stop until he was in a deserted corridor, the noise and hustle of the building falling away. He rested both hands on the wall, head hanging as he forced himself to breathe. Slow, measured breaths, in...out...in... out. 

It didn’t help the prickling in his eyes. He swallowed again, keeping his attention on his breathing, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t cry. He didn’t have the right to cry. Gordon needed him to be strong. He’d told the others that it was okay for them to go, that he would be here. He had to hold it together... 

But when Gordon was having a bad day, it was damn hard. 

Keeping one hand braced against the wall, he pulled out his cell. It was answered on the first ring. 

“I know you’ve just got back to the apartment-,” 

“Bad day?” 

“Yeah.” 

His dad didn’t need him to say anything more. 

“On my way.” 

They were trying to take it in turns. Gordon didn’t need constant monitoring, but he hated being alone and the two of them were tag-teaming. Jeff had rented an apartment near-by and they were trying to make it a routine that the other went there, ate, rested, showered, when they weren’t on duty. It was the only way they were going to keep going. 

But right now, John couldn’t do this. He needed his dad. 

He gave it a few moments before heading back to Gordon’s floor in order to meet the man. His dad’s coat was half undone, his hair wet from where he’d grabbed a shower, but his eyes were alert. HIs hand was steady as he put it on John’s shoulder. 

“I’ve got this.” His voice was calm, full of the reassurance that John needed. 

He sagged, his dad’s grip stopping him from sinking to the floor in relief. That was exactly what he needed to hear. His eyes shut and this time, one single, treacherous tear slipped down his face. His dad’s thumb brushed it away. 

“Go and get some sleep, John. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

That phrase again. The one he’d tried on Gordon, only for it to fail to make any impact. But as he watched his father gesture over a nurse to get the latest update on his son, he found his dad’s words did what his couldn’t. 

It made him believe he might be right.

[lambsonburn]

TAG Analysis Ep 1 part 2

Hey guys it’s me again - I was meant to do another analysis much sooner but got distracted after Xmas.

This relates to the first episode - first part is on the characters and second is on little details I noticed.

Analysis is under the cut :)

A few things I want to point out first is the introduction of the characters. They are introduced one by one, which is such a good way to understand who is who particularly to a newer younger audience. Furthermore, the way in which they are introduced further add to their characterisation. We see John as head of communications and responds to calls which, compared to the original, is a much more defined role with him now appearing in every episode. Brains is busy doing technical stuff, Penelope and Parker still have their air of aristocracy which is enhanced by the music. Alan is shown to be the youngest (even though we know he is) through a mission which is basically baby sitting. And Grandma Tracy being a terrible cook is such a funny little addition to the show which really furthers the characters personalities and interactions compared to the original where it was more of a “we must save them” and end it there.

As a little tangent, I would like to say that Kayo being given her own craft is such a good implementation for her character, since in the original as Tin Tin she has a much wider, less defined role and was basically one of the few women Sylvia had managed to put in (which was quite significant since the original was incredibly male heavy). But since Kayo has her own ship, the possibilities for her characters became so much more and I think definitely a character that really helped the series since her personality is much tougher than the brothers. Moreover, having her be such a change from Tin Tin is generally just a really good touch since it leans away from the casually misogyny of the original and really brings her into her own.

Anyway on to details !! One of THE most astounding things I’ve seen in the shown (which I know also happens in the last ep of s1 but done by the Hood) and it’s when Virgil moves the chair. For those who are missing out on the incredibleness of this lays in the fact that this is CGI flawlessly interacting with a miniature element. And it’s the fact that it stops so abruptly just makes me think that absolutely everything was done purposefully - since, in my mind, having the chair go from A to B like it does allows them to animate the CG to blend better with the environment and any little mistakes you see from the chair are overlooked because you focus back on the movement. This all happens 5:57 mins into the episode btw :3.

The puppetry! The puppetry! The submersible rig is an actual miniature (or “bigature” as Weta puts it). By having it be a miniature you can capture the janky movements as it falls apart and not have it feel uncanny as what we are seeing can be recognised as real and not CG. (This goes for all the little bits of rocks and dust we see kick up too)

Now one of the major drawbacks I can see from the CGI miniature mix is that it doesn’t always fit quite well. I’ve mainly noticed it with TB2 (I have a fav ok babes?) and how the shadows interacts around it. During its launch sequence, the shadow underneath the craft looks a bit weird and the bottom of TB2 doesn’t quite blend with the environment. Other moments I’ve seen of similar things happening is in Breakdown when it lands (has the same weird shadow goings on) but also when it flies by the camera where it looks unbearably CG. Idk if I mentioned in the last post, but the main reason why the show is able to mix the media’s so well is bc of the interaction with one another - the ships are usually around dust, smoke whatnot so looks less like a sticker slapped on to it but is instead integrated.

Another fun little detail is the music that plays when Gordon goes to find the seismic device (10:25) which is near always played when they talk about their father. Someone in the reblogs of the post (linked at end) mentioned that it always cuts halfway through, never fully playing (which changes when they get their Dad back)

Talking about their dad, even though it’s not said he’s missing we know he is from Virgil’s words from the beginning “no one’s losing their dad today.” In one sentence we hear what has happened to their dad but has see a glimpse into the underlying trauma that came with his “death.”

I did want to do this more analytically but I can’t help but ramble TuT

[idontknowreallywhy]

Music was on shuffle in the car just now and a certain 90s classic came up… which of course resurrected a certain scene in my head (which is never far below the surface Tbf…)

So am reblogging because maybe other people need a dancing Tracy or two in their lives…

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (Cartoon 2015)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy

Additional Tags: Grumpy old man Scott, Scott Tracy Vs Impending Middle Age, Young people are ridiculous, fritatta, 90s music, massive earworms, Might make you hungry, ludicrous fluff, barely even proof read but yolo, thunderfluff

Series: Part 4 of TAG Tiny Oneshots

Summary:

Grumpy old man Scott is grumpy.

Then a bit less grumpy.

The Tinies are flabbergasted.

[astranite]

Notes- Christmas TAG secret santa fic.

Because of this post and @janetm74 and @edutainer2022 here are my additional notes for my 2023 thunderfam secret santa fic.

It contains brainstorming that became part of the og fic and notes as a continuation for the car ride. It was actually these that I came up with first and intended to write but got side tracked with explorations of getting ready, especially given the prompt i was given was “Every day is a school day” with Jeff and Lucy. Also deadlines!

Mind that this is pretty much as is from my notes in its entirety, complete with spelling errors, partial sentences and utter lack of cohesion as I jumped between ideas.

Link for the fic proper on ao3.

---

“Every day is a school day” Jeff and Lucy. And everyone.

Car drive to spent christmas with Grandma and Grant at Gran Rocha. The preparing and road tripping shenanigans.

getting all five kids plus themselves and luggage into the car on time as chaotic as a school day. Jeffs line?

S15, J13, V12, G 6?7, A3

Wake-up call. Alarm going off Lucy tired and grumpy where Virgil gets it from. I’ll get the kids up and you can head straight to the coffee. Jeff fooling around like mock drill sergeant. Scott’s grumpy teenness and chucking a pillow at him with surprisingly good aim for supposedly asleep. Scott getting up. Bed hair mess that Jeff runs a gentle hand through pulling him into a hug. Virgil and John. John and Bagel the cat curled up together. Both hissing at him in unison. Virgil needed to be hugged and woken up more slowly. 

Down in the kitchen. Jeff kissing Lucy and trying to steal her coffee. No you cannot steal my coffee Jefferson Tracy, you have your own.  Lucy’s massive science pun mug. Hair in her face looking like little Virgil. 

HURRICANE LUCY. Time skip to about to go?

packing- John wanting to fit telescope. Or “But I did leave my telescope behind” but bag full of books. 

Last min shoving presents in. Neighbour to feed the cat.

Scott nabbed the car keys first on massive ** many different  keychain so neither Lucy nor Jeff could lose them. Swinging them around his finger, “can I drive” Parental chorus of “No!” Doesn't have license yet but is learning to pilot. argument of Grandma lets me drive on the ranch. Thats the beat up old ute and theres nothing much out there to hit any way.

And they were done. Bags were in the car, kids were in the car, last final bathroom stops had been had.  Lucy patted down her pockets. Keys! She didn’t have them, so Jeff must except that he didn’t. Surely the couldn’t have lost them with the neon pink rocket ship key chain attached to prevent this. Until they both spied Scott leaning against the drivers side door and swinging them around his finger.  

“So, can I drive?” Scott asked as if he didn’t already know the answer to that question. 

“No,” came the parental chorus. 

Then the other kids repeating them, picking up on it slightly behind. 

Scott grinning and tossed the keys in the air one last time then caught them. He passed them to Lucy’s waiting hand prompted by a stern eyebrow. 

7 seater beat up car. Drive- Kansas to Texas. approx 9 hours to 8 1/2. Lucy english thinking its ages. at least america had good highways. and from her mothers tales at least kangaroo spotter was a redundant position. 

Panic at dress clothes for Christmas day

someone packed no underpants. Gordon only packed underwear and swimmers. Trying to sort laundry at last minute. Jeff’s haphazard packing of his own clothes with getting everyone else in military order. Lucy remarking jokingly, “Mightve gotten to mars adn forgot your space suit. 

Jeff the nerd, calling Grandma to tell on our way, “Houston we have take off”. Kids dramatic countdown. A “finally”. FOnd eye rolls. 

John and Virgil at back seats. Johns already long limbs folded up.

Scott getting the dubious privelige of the middle row. but centre seat between Alan and Gords car seats and on big brother duty. 

Lucy hoping but not expecting to get some rest on the trip. Up all night getting ready. has mystery novel to read. but trying to wrangle kids. Putting Jeff’s cowboy hat over her face to keep the sun off as she sleeps.

Stops for toilet breaks. Lunch fast food. “Do not let gordon have soda.” Johns burger order. Virgil picking pickles out to give to john. The chips stealing. Trying to eat and drive. sending older ones in to fish younger out of the play area. losing Scott to it too, send in John planning it like a mission.

Jeff adn Lucy discussion over what coffee is supposed to do. ADHD Jeff. starting with Scott asking for coffee, cheekily. No, we dont need you any more hyper. Jeff’s confident, “Coffee doesnt do that” Even same with Aa. spirited debate. JSSo that means I can have some? eff still saying no coffee for Scott.

Lucy driving at some point. 

If Lucy had to hear one more rendition of baby shark she was the one who was going to get out and walk.

music and Lucy and Virgil comparing synesthesia.

John reading massive heavy text book, splayed out across knees. not getting car sick, serve well for astronaut. for fun, reminded he didnt need to study. 

Scott bored and restless. tinies asleep. no phone signal. twisting around, being told off for seat belt, trying to see what Johns doing. seat swap and he and John are in the back doing maths and physics, heads bent together. virgil eyes closed but awake or leaning around car seats to look out the windows, bobbing head to music through headphones. 

when John adn Scott get stuck, calling questions out to Lucy. Jeff snoring in front seat, head on lucy;s jumper, went from wide awake to clonked out even after the coffees.

Virgil using breath on fogged up windows to draw. Scott and John used it for math.

Gordon are we there yet. Alan copying him. 

naming animals and animal sounds. then naming sea creatures. then sounds of sea creatures. some known, some gordon happily making them up.

car sickness. Scott getting car sick, in spite of crazy spins and flips but then hes in control. another reshuffle, Jeff wedged into the middle seat, Lucy laughing and looking in rear view mirror at tall, broad shouldered husband folded awkwardly into the back. John and Virgil back-back. Scott getting shotgun, window open and nauseous. Vomit bags in glove box because learnt from past fiascos and puke in hat story. Scott grumps would be fine if I was driving 

some point tinies and Jeff all asleep.  John and Virgil happy together. Lucy getting to check in and chat to scott. 

on destination. everyone there, big family.  Lee? Kayo adn Kyrano and Kayo mother. Jeff brothers? packed into the big ranch house. noise and merriment. hot dry texas air. smell of good food cooking. some slight odour of burnt. 

explain lucy parents farm????

“The eagle has landed” finding rooms, unpack car. eldest three in together. youngest. 

John overwhelmed after trip, not wanting to talk to anyone. near tears at thought of going into party. going to stable to spent time with horses. 

Virgil running up to Grant and talking his ear off, to much delight of both parties. Grant, still broad shouldered and strong from farm work, charcoal black hair now salt and pepper grey. 

Achievements getting caught up with. Jeff telling grandma about scotts, Scott proud but a bit uncharacteristically shy, leaning into a side hug. 

the comments of how big the kids were all getting, and theyd better not be having more. Lucy laughing and very nope five is plenty enough. 

somewhat tired cranky, sticky dusty kids. Gordon spilling something sticky on him in the last hour, waiting to get there to wash him off. Recovering excitement at bath. 

grandma’s welcome cookies. 

——- other fic. Graduation. car crash. Injuries—the bruises. Scott burst into tears with brothers because he wants mum

[gumnut-logic]

Virgil in Tights

Virgil refused to put on the Robin outfit for Scotty Batman, but there have been several instances of wardrobe malfunction for our heavy lifting boi.

-o-o-o-

Virgil hated the IR spacesuits. They were far too tight and left nothing to the imagination.

Also, the red baldrics clashed horribly with his green stripe enough to rip his eyeballs out.

But although his standard uniform was satisfactory for short forays into space, it was not enough for a space mission of this magnitude as it did not have the survival and safety mechanisms needed in an emergency. So, here he was dressed like some kind of spandex wearing superhero, his heavy lifting muscles providing a great anatomy lesson to any within eyesight.

“Looking good, Virg.” Gordon’s eyes were laughing.

“Shut up, Fish.” The aquanaut was used appearing all but naked in front of thousands. Hell, Virgil had nothing to be ashamed of, it was just difficult to keep a straight face in a professional capacity.

How the hell John lived in one of these things was a mystery Virgil had no interest in exploring.

The alternative was wearing something like Alan’s spacesuit, but that had its own issues regarding his exosuit and despite the...exposure, this was the best option.

At least he had a little security with the addition of his exosuit support padding and his harness – never leave home without it. That and his baldric covered a little of his modesty.

Didn’t stop his brothers’ comments though.

Alan actually snorted in laughter.

Scott raised an eyebrow, but then their commander was dressed the same and, much like John, was giving the Greek gods a run for their money in the process.

Virgil felt like a dwarf from The Lord of the Rings. What was his name? Gami? Gimi? Gimli? Standing next to that bleached elf.

Virgil grunted. “Let’s do this, already.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil walked out onto the deck dressed head to toe in IR wetsuit. Like Scott, his usual baldric had been replaced with a yellow aquanautical version, a pair of green stripes either side of it declaring him as Thunderbird Two, along with the patch on his shoulder. His left arm sported a wrist control, but this was much larger and covered his entire forearm.

The expression on his face was one of tolerance and it had Gordon smirking.

“Looking buff there, bro.”

Virgil glared at him. Their heavy lifting brother was well built and the wetsuit did absolutely nothing to hide it.

-o-o-o-

More to be found in:

Tracy Elves

Tracy is an Irish Surname

Though I have to say that it is Scott who is having the most trouble in that last one :D

Anyway, I hope these are smile worthy.

Nutty

(Sorry he wouldn’t put on the Robin outfit @janetm74 but he can wear some tight clothing in other situations 😁)

[tos1701voy74656tmnt2012-cc]

Hey everyone! As you can probably see, this is my first time posting on Tumblr (and on AO3...) but this is fortunately not my first fic. Very grateful to @shirubie for providing me with motivation to finish this thing I started a while ago - I've been working on it the last few days despite school and everything, but I finally managed to finish it today! Hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave a comment/repost your thoughts!

Two Skies, One Promise (12137 words) by tos1701_voy74656_cc Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (Cartoon 2015) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Scott Tracy/Original Female Character(s), Scott Tracy & Tracy Family Characters: Scott Tracy, Original Female Character(s), Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, John Tracy, Tanusha "Kayo" Kyrano, Grandma Tracy (Thunderbirds), Brains (Thunderbirds) Additional Tags: Family, Repression, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reconciliation Summary:

In another life, a minor error in judgement on Scott Tracy's part during his Air Force days causes a rift in the timeline. When his prime universe counterpart is called in, secrets are unearthed and trust is broken, but that doesn't mean that what's left of International Rescue can't step in in time and repair the damage.

A little story about Scott Tracy and Emma Lancaster, another gifted pilot he shouldn't have forgotten about.

[hebuiltfive]

The Alaskan Train Crash: International Rescue, We Have A Situation.

Six months after the return of Jeff Tracy and International Rescue has finally come back off their hiatus. One of their first missions with their dad back at the helm? A mysterious train wreck in remote Alaska.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Tags: Artist!Virgil, Post season three, slight AU, Mentions of hospitals, Mentions of Blood, description of train crash, Light Angst

Series: Part 1 of The Long Game

NOTES: This has been MONTHS in the making and, I won't lie, I'm a little nervous about finally putting this out in the world. This is only the first chapter of the first part of (what I'm now thinking will be) quite a large story. Disclaimers to say that I obviously do not own any of the characters in this story. They were created by the wonderful Gerry and Sylvia Anderson. The only things I do own are the ideas and situations they end up in. Trust me, they'll end up in some sticky situations in the near future!

Read it below or on AO3 here.

The Hood’s haphazard approach to his criminal scheming, coupled with a blatant disregard for any life that wasn’t his own, only ever led to one outcome — disaster.

The unfortunate beneficiaries of today’s outcome were currently trapped under the wreckage of the buckled front carriage of a derailed freight train. The scene was horrific to look at, even with all of Scott’s years of experience and training that came with being in the rescue business. The whole of the train looked as though it had been flung from the tracks, and had flipped onto its side, except for the back carriage, which had somehow managed to stay the right way up, and the front carriage, which had been capsized completely. In stark contrast to the crisp white snow underneath the wreck, there was a dark patch of leaking oil developing. As Scott hovered in the air over the derailed train, guiding his jet pack over the wreckage to get a sense of the scope, he knew he had to work fast.

There had been three workers on board. Whilst two of the three had seemingly been rendered unconscious by the incident, one was still very much awake and aware of her current predicament. She had made sure that the receiver of her distress call also knew this. John had forewarned his older brother of the severity of this woman’s pleas for assistance whilst Scott had flown Thunderbird One to the danger zone at top speed; the way the woman had begged Thunderbird Five for help had sent shivers down (a normally stoic) John’s spine. Still, despite the advanced warning, nothing could have quite prepared Scott for the look of pure terror on that woman’s face as he landed himself beside the wreck and jogged over to that capsized front carriage.

Two Hours Earlier.

Virgil had just wanted the lounge to himself so he could finally finish his oil painting in relative peace. It had already taken him far longer than he’d expected to get the painting complete. Usually that was due to rescue missions interrupting him and not his two younger brothers, as was the case today. Gordon and Alan had come bounding into the lounge, as loud and as energetic as always, and then began to play the loudest alien-killing game they could have possibly found. Virgil knew that his easel and pallet in front of him had not gone unnoticed by the Terrible Two, but the boys didn’t seem to care. Or, rather, they didn’t seem to realise the disturbance they’d caused. That was normally the case, anyway.

Virgil should have known that asking for any semblance of peace in the Tracy household was very rarely answered. The villa was always a hive of chaotic activity, even when those rescue missions called half of the family away. As Virgil was usually on call in those situations, he rarely managed to find a moment’s grace unless he was up into the late hours of the day. As it was, the sun had already begun to set over Tracy Island and sleep would soon be beckoning to all of them. He only had a few hours left to get some painting done before Scott had another reason to berate him for staying up late again. Thankfully, Tracy Island was large enough to not only house International Rescue’s operations, but also cater enough room for everyone who lived there.

He had not long retreated from the lounge, away from Alan and Gordon’s loud but seemingly futile efforts to defeat an invading alien race, to finish up his work in his art studio.  He should have just stayed there this morning and not gone down to the lounge, but when that room was not occupied by bored, young adolescents, the lounge was just as serene as the quiet his studio offered. The views out onto the expanse of the Pacific inspired Virgil’s creative muse, and the colours seemed to flow so much better on his canvas when the warm, tropical breeze blew up through the open veranda. That being said, the picturesque scenery that now filled his peripheral was just as humbling.

His canvas, he’d carefully carried down from the lounge, had been placed on a new easel that stood in front of a large window. In the near distance Mateo stood, the rocks on the island glinting in the last rays of sun. Far more quieter than the disruption his brothers were currently causing upstairs. Content once more, Virgil started to mix the paints he needed on a new pallet.

He got all of two swipes of raw sienna onto the canvas when there was a gentle knock of knuckles against the wood of the art studio door.

“Virgil?” It was a voice that Virgil had thought he’d never hear again, up until a few months the back, that is. A voice that he was still trying to get used to hearing again after living so long without it.

Jeff Tracy had opened the door and was standing under the frame, his hands sitting idly in the pockets of his jeans. He looked over the artwork his second eldest was working on. To a stranger, or casual observer, they might have been deceived by the seemingly dark piece. With the shades Virgil had decided to use so far, that would have been an understandable mistake. But Jeff knew his sons, even after eight years of being separated from them, and he could see the hope that radiated through the painting. In the background, still only an outline and yet unfinished, he could make out the shape that he guessed would become Thunderbird Two. Jeff could see Virgil’s behemoth of a ship was to rise in the distance, to assist in the abstract disaster that was happening in the foreground. The smile that lit up his worn face gave Virgil a warm glow inside. “Looking good, son.”

In those first few weeks of Jeff Tracy’s return to earth after spending almost a decade lost in the outer reaches of the solar system, International Rescue had gone on an understandable hiatus. The Global Defence Force had offered to pick up the rescue work whilst the family became reacquainted and new routines were established. After all, just having their father sitting with them at their breakfast table in the morning again gave the boys enough of a shock. Despite the stresses and occasional disagreements that naturally came with the reshuffling and reorganising of the organisation, having their dad back was one of the greatest miracles to happen to the Tracy brothers, and they all thanked their lucky stars every day for having him home again.

“Do you have a moment?” Jeff asked, gesturing forward as a way of asking whether Virgil was okay with him stepping into his space.

By the look on his dad’s face, Virgil knew that ‘a moment’ was more than likely going to last longer than Jeff had suggested in his wording, but Virgil nodded all the same. As Jeff stepped inside and closed the door behind him, Virgil placed his pallet and paint brush on the side table beside his easel. He rubbed his paint splattered fingers on his equally paint splattered apron.

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

Virgil was used to being the one everyone came to for advice and assistance in the family. Along with Grandma Tracy, he was the soundboard that his brothers, and Kayo and Brains, relied on when they needed a solid voice of reason. Virgil never minded. He never saw any of them as a burden or a bother. Whenever they needed to seek comfort in Virgil’s warmth and way with words, Virgil was there for them.

“I wanted to just let you know that Grandma will be taking me to the mainland tomorrow.”

Virgil’s heart sank a little at Jeff’s words. He knew what his father’s words were code for, knew exactly where Grandma Tracy was taking him: the hospital. Jeff’s health had been fragile upon his return to Earth. Having had to survive eight years on a rock in the Oort Cloud, it came as no surprise to any of them. They were all wise to the fact that the situation would have been a detriment to anyone’s health, and they all were sure that, had Jeff been anyone else, he wouldn’t have lived through the ordeal for nearly as long as he miraculously had. Jeff’s health had been a major talking point in the reorganisation of International Rescue. The main question was whether he was fit enough to take back the mantel of Commander In Chief, or whether it was better for him to take a backseat and oversee operations from the sidelines instead. Both Grandma and Scott had been firm advocates in Jeff taking the back seat, but Jeff Tracy was Jeff Tracy and he wasn’t the kind of man who was content with being sidelined. In the end, they had all agreed on him sharing the job with his eldest son, at least until he was in a better condition.

Hence the hospital visits. Scans, blood work, physiotherapy, drugs and tests were part of their new normal, and they’d been advised that this new normal was going to stay in place for the foreseeable future. Jeff didn’t mind, so long as it meant he was still able to be of assistance, but the constant hospital trips had the boys naturally worrying.

“If dad is so unwell that he needs to be constantly visiting Doctor Mayhew every month, he shouldn’t be placed in a position that could cause him stress!” Scott had exclaimed on more than one occasion. Jeff never listened to him, always claimed that he was fine which only led to heated debates between the two. Usually it was Grandma who managed to calm them both down, but once or twice, the unfortunate role of mediator had landed on Virgil’s lap. Whilst he still didn’t see it as a burden, it was the only time he minded. It was the one time he didn’t like being a soundboard to his family.

“How long this time?” He asked his father, arms folding across his chest.

“A week. Maybe two. They want to check my legs, I think. It’s going to require a few tests back to back and they say that it’s easier if I just stay there whilst they get the results.”

Virgil nodded. It made sense for him to remain in one place. His next question was one he didn’t want the answer to. “Does Scott know?”

Jeff held silence for a moment or two, and Virgil knew the answer instantaneously. “No. He doesn’t. Not yet.”

Virgil pursed his lips, nodded once… twice, and then began to undo his paint apron. So much for a relaxing evening with his canvas. “He needs to know, dad.”

“He overthinks everything—”

“That’s Scott for you—”

“— and I don’t like how stressed out he gets. I don’t want to add to it, or be the cause of more stress.”

Welcome to the club, Virgil thought, but sighed as he threw the apron aside. Scott never knew how to take things easy. He was a classic overreacher, constantly trying to do more than his best. That perfectionism had only got worse in the months following their father’s disappearance, but that was a fact Jeff had still not been informed about. Their father had developed a legacy in people’s minds, one that only grew in his supposed death, and Scott felt compelled to continue that legacy. He had always looked up to Jeff, but this constant need to try and make their father proud, even in death, sometimes meant Scott took unnecessarily hazardous risks, and it had nearly landed him on death’s doorstep on more than one occasion. Virgil and the others had often tried to slow him down and make him see reason, but their talks rarely seemed to have a lasting impact. Come the next day, Scott would be back to his normal, overreaching self.

“Scott’s capable of handling a lot more than you think, dad.”

Jeff breathed out a long sigh. “I don’t want him to handle so much. He should share the burdens.”

“Good luck getting him to do that. We’ve been trying for years, but Scott is way too protective. It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t want you being so involved in the rescues right now, what with your… health.”

“I know he’s looking out for me,” Jeff began, his eyes averting Virgil’s own gaze as he took in the view of Mateo from the window. “I just wish he wouldn’t try so damned hard all the time.”

Virgil let out a deep chuckle. “You and me both, dad.” Then, he began to make for the door. “But he needs to know all the same. If you want, I can be your bodyguard.” He joked. In honesty, the thought of having to referee another match between his dad and Scott worried him, but he’d do it if it meant avoiding a bigger conflict in the future.

Jeff’s lips quirked into a smile at Virgil’s humour, but as he opened his mouth to speak, a hologram of John appeared from the holo-disc on the side table beside the easel. “Guys, we have a situation.”

Exchanging worried glances with his father, Virgil dove out of the door of his studio and made his way up to the lounge as fast as possible, Jeff following quickly behind him.

[forest-falcon]

WIP Wednesday

Given that Virgil is into music and art, I thought, why not writing? I have a fair bit more written for this fic but I'm still tweaking it. Anyway, a bit of FishTank for WIP Wednesday!

Night Shift 

An alarm sounded and Gordon Tracy woke, ready for duty. Thankfully, it wasn't the piercing IR alert designed to wake even the likes of Virgil; so he stretched, kicked off his covers, then lay back, allowing himself a moment or two to appreciate his diverse collection of tropical fish, despite the ungodly hour. Most of his diurnal species had chosen to tuck themselves away into various crevices within the coral. He envied their option to rest as he forced himself out of bed and grabbed the nearest clothes to hand. 

The aquanaut followed his feet towards the comms room; his brain slow to shake the dregs of sleep. A warm breeze greeted him as he entered. 

Damn, does Scott never sleep?  

He looked to his Father's desk, but found it empty so scanned the balcony and spotted Virgil scribbling away. Grabbing a bowl of cereal, he headed over to join the brother who should have long been in bed. 

"What are you drawing?"

"Not drawing. Writing...well, trying to." 

Gordon attempted to read the room...balcony. Virgil didn't seem to mind his intrusion, so he perched on the neighbouring lounger and took another bite of his cereal.

"I thought you were an artist?"

"Can't I be both?" 

Virgil's baritone was mumbled out from around a pencil held between his lips. If Grandma could see them now, she'd clout the pair of them.

"Besides, I wouldn't really call myself an artist. I dabble..." His older brother shrugged.

"Don't you sell your art to studios for like four figures?"

"Sometimes five."

"Wow, imposter syndrome much?"

Virgil snorted.

"Who made you my therapist?"

"Just calling it as I see it bro. You should give yourself more credit."

He was rewarded with one of his brother's heartwarming smiles.

"Thanks." 

Virgil returned to silently re-reading one of his pages for possibly the fifth time in as many minutes. The paper was littered with arrows leading to hastily scribbled notes and no shortage of question marks. The engineer made a couple of sharp intakes of breath, as if calculating possible additions to his plot, before letting out a long exhale in defeat. The dog-eared journal, discarded in disgust, fell open at the floor. Gordon was quick to scoop it up.

"Don't!" A wall of muscle scrambled off the chair.

It was a weird combination to see something so big and powerful so...vulnerable? His brother gave the impression of a startled horse ready to turn and bolt.

"Aren't stories meant to be read?"

"It's not finished yet."

"I don't mind."

"Yeah but I'm not sure I want anyone I know reading it."

"Why, is it about us?"

"No."

"Then why?"

Gordon wasn't entirely sure why he was pushing his brother on this. Virgil's art was exquisite, so a part of him was genuinely curious to know what new masterpiece his brother had created. Another part of him almost felt the need for his brother to trust him. They put their lives in each other's hands on a regular basis. Why would Virgil not trust him with this?

"I...don't know." The engineer in Virgil always liked to give people a proper answer to any queries, but his brain denied him any real reason not to share his work, maybe other than the quiet fear of being judged. But Gordon wasn't like that. His brother had an arsenal of practical jokes, but they were matched by just as many compliments.

"Isn't your art 'n' music the same sorta thing though?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

A shrug.

"Somehow, it doesn't feel the same. I can't explain why. I guess...I'm new to writing. I'm used to you guys hearing me play."

Gordon smiled. Trust had to be earned and he had no intention of pressuring his wingman to dive beyond his comfort zone.

"Fair enough. I won't pry. You have your secrets and I have mine."

"What secrets?"

Truth be told, he didn't have any, but it was fun to keep his brother guessing, so he gave an impish grin, and wiggled his eyebrows for good measure. "Wouldn't you like to know?" 

"Fine." Virgil shrugged with a smile.

Gordon shoveled another spoonful. "Doesn't look like much fun though. Looks like you've more variables to solve in that little journal of yours than Brains tackles in his lab."

"Meh, the characters keep taking charge of the story and it derails my plot."

"Virgil?"

"What?"

"They're. Not. Real." He whispered emphatically.

"That's what I keep telling them."

"Dude..." Gordon shook his head with mock disbelief.

Virgil ignored him, but continued to erode the end of his pencil with his teeth. 

"You know you'll be blaming Brains for how those look in a few days. Why don't you take a break? Sleep. You'll be fresher in the morning."

"Can't sleep."

"Peru?"

"All of it."

There was a pause.

Virgil's shoulders slumped, his eyebrows knitting in a way that darkened his already silhouetted features. "It's never... about the one bad rescue though, is it? ...They're just the catalyst to unleash the rest of the sh*tty iceberg we keep trying to bury below the surface." 

"Just as well you have the most talented and by far the most handsome aquanaut here to come 'n' pick you up! I'll have you know that navigating treacherous seas is kinda my speciality."

[riallasheng]

1 (thunderbirds), 7 (tracy boys), 24 for the ask game?

Canon I outright reject John being the middle born XD He is the second born gosh darn it all XD Can't really think of another bit of canon I outright reject off the top of my head, although I'm certain there are a few 'I reject your reality and substitute my own' points ^^

This is gonna get long, so under the readmore!! ^^

=======================

7. Age, height, weight headcanons Because I am a MASSIVE OLD GEEKWOMAN I actually have this in my gDocs and legit just need to pull it up XD -Scott Chuck Tracy: 30 years old in 2065 (born 2035, April 4th) 6'3" (just using the canon here) 216 lbs (Scott is drawn as being cruiserweight to heavyweight in the comics, and described as 'powerfully built' in the books, so I gave him the weight class that is on the high end of his height and the border between cruiser and heavyweight rather than the lanky nearly to beanpole of TaG ^^)

-John Yuri Tracy: 28 years old in 2065 (born 2037, October 8th) 6'4" (again, just using canon) 190 lbs (John is drawn lean, but not a beanpole in the comics and is described as 'lithe' in the novels, so I've got him above the low end for a 6'4" man, but not in the upper end of 225lbs)

-Virgil Buzz Tracy 25 in 2065 (born 2040, August 15th) 6' (I used Tyler Hoechlin for his face-claim as his face shape is well-nigh perfect for him and thus gave Virgil Tyler's height and build, rather than the 5'10" that is, I think, canon. Hoechlin's build is Virgil's canon build however. About cruiserweight to maybe heavyweight ... yes in the comics/novels Scott is actually buffer than Virgil XD ) 172lbs

-Gordon Jim Tracy 22 in 2065 (born 2043, February 14th) 5'10" (gordon's puppet is the shortest of the brothers, then Virgil's, then Alan's, then Scott's, then John's. Virgil got a bit of a 'growth spurt' due his face claim, but Gordon stayed the shortest XD) 170lbs (I looked up weights of professional olympic swimmers in the Gordon's height range and used the average for Gordon's weight. I figure he's build like a professional swimmer, even after the accident)

-Alan Neil Tracy 19 in 2065 (born 2046, March 12th) 5'10.5" (he is VERY proud of that half in he's got on Gordon XD ) 181lbs (Alan is actually the heaviest in build of the brother's, a bit more powerful / buffer than Scott - it's a build he inheritated from / shares with Jeff. Both Jeff and alan are drawn buff, nearly stout, in the comics. Which fits with the fact that alan is shown to be capable of a one punch KO in the TV show

=========================

24. Most Annoying Habit hmmmmm... Not sure off the top of my head ^^;; I'll see if I can think of something and do a reblog / addition to this later

[ulkaralakbarova]

Beverly is the perfect happy homemaker, along with her doting husband and two children, but this nuclear family just might explode when her fascination with serial killers collides with her ever-so-proper code of ethics. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Beverly Sutphin: Kathleen Turner Eugene Sutphin: Sam Waterston Misty Sutphin: Ricki Lake Chip Sutphin: Matthew Lillard Detective Pike: Scott Morgan Detective Gracey: Walt MacPherson Scotty: Justin Whalin Birdie: Patricia Dunnock Carl: Lonnie Horsey Dottie Hinkle: Mink Stole Rosemary Ackerman: Mary Jo Catlett Mr. Stubbins: John Badila Betty Sterner: Kathy Fannon Ralph Sterner: Doug Roberts Carl’s Date: Traci Lords Marvin Pickles: Tim Caggiano Howell Hawkins: Jeff Mandon Father Boyce: Colgate Salsbury Mrs. Jenson: Patsy Grady Abrams Herbie Hebden: Richard Pilcher Timothy Nazlerod: Beau James Judge: Stan Brandorff Luann Hodges: Kim Swann Suzanne Somers: Suzanne Somers Gus: Bus Howard Sloppy: Alan J. Wendl Juror #8: Patricia Hearst Jury Forewoman: Nancy Robinette Rookie Cop: Peter Bucossi Policewoman: Loretto McNally Press A: Wilfred E. Williams Court TV Reporter: Joshua L. Shoemaker Court Groupie A: Rosemary Knower Court Groupie B: Susan Lowe Carl’s Brother: John Calvin Doyle Book Buyer: Mary Vivian Pearce Mean Lady: Brigid Berlin Police Officer: Jordan Brown Vendor: Anthony ‘Chip’ Brienza Flea Market Boy: Jeffrey Pratt Gordon Flea Market Girl: Shelbi Clarke Macho Man: Nat Benchley Dealer: Kyf Brewer Baby’s Mother: Teresa R. Pete Church Baby: Zachary S. Pete Doorman: Richard Pelzman Kid A: Chad Bankerd Kid B: Johnny Alonso Kid C: Robert Roser Joe Flowers: Mike Offenheiser Girl: Lee Hunsaker Burglar A: Michael S. Walter Burglar B: Mojo Gentry Mrs. Taplotter: Gwendolyn Briley-Strand Reporter: Jennifer Mendenhall Joan Rivers: Joan Rivers TV Serial Hag: Catherine Anne Hayes Lady C: Susan Duvall Press: Valerie Yarborough Kid: Jordan Young Camel Lips: Jennifer Finch Camel Lips: Suzi Gardner Camel Lips: Demetra Plakas Camel Lips: Donita Sparks Husband A: John A. Schneider Court Clerk: Lyrica Montague Eugene Sutphin’s Nurse (uncredited): Bess Armstrong Birdie’s Father (uncredited): Greg Coale Video Store Customer (uncredited): David L. Marston Stage Diver (uncredited): Kim McGuire Cop (uncredited): John Poague Club Kid (uncredited): Al Sotto Ted Bundy (voice) (uncredited): John Waters Film Crew: Art Direction: David J. Bomba Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Mark Berger Executive Producer: Joseph M. Caracciolo Jr. Thanks: Paul Reubens Original Music Composer: Basil Poledouris Writer: John Waters Production Design: Vincent Peranio Editor: Janice Hampton Producer: Mark Tarlov Supervising Sound Editor: John Nutt Thanks: Don Knotts Editor: Erica Huggins Director of Photography: Robert M. Stevens Associate Producer: Pat Moran Costume Design: Van Smith First Assistant Director: Robert Rooy Property Master: Brook Yeaton Art Department Production Assistant: Jeffrey Pratt Gordon Carpenter: Thomas Turnbull Thanks: Harry H. Novak Set Decoration: Susan Kessel On Set Dresser: Lianne Williamson Sound Editor: Ernie Fosselius Thanks: Arthur Machen Utility Stunts: G. A. Aguilar Sound Mixer: Rick Angelella First Assistant Director: Mary Ellen Woods Sound Editor: Frank E. Eulner Casting: Paula Herold Set Dresser: Michael Sabo Second Unit Director: Steve M. Davison Sound Editor: Robert Shoup Hairstylist: Kathryn Blondell Sound Re-Recording Mixer: David Parker Stunt Double: Cheryl Wheeler Duncan Assistant Makeup Artist: Janice Kinigopoulos Makeup Artist: Debi Young Makeup Artist: E. Thomas Case Post Production Supervisor: John Currin Assistant Property Master: R. Vincent Smith Music Supervisor: Bones Howe Draughtsman: Rob Simons Additional Hairstylist: Howard ‘Hep’ Preston Assistant Makeup Artist: Barbara Lacy Art Department Coordinator: Sarah Stollman Utility Stunts: Michael Runyard Unit Production Manager: Margaret Hilliard Hairstylist: Ardis Cohen Assistant Production Design: John Lindsey McCormick Makeup Artist: Betty Beebe Sound Recordist: Philip Rogers Producer: John Fiedler Secon...

[jcmarchi]

Community members receive 2024 MIT Excellence Awards, Collier Medal, and Staff Award for Distinction in Service

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/community-members-receive-2024-mit-excellence-awards-collier-medal-and-staff-award-for-distinction-in-service/

Community members receive 2024 MIT Excellence Awards, Collier Medal, and Staff Award for Distinction in Service

On Wednesday, June 5, 13 individuals and four teams were awarded MIT Excellence Awards — the highest awards for staff at the Institute. Colleagues holding signs, waving pompoms, and cheering gathered in Kresge Auditorium to show their support for the honorees. In addition to the Excellence Awards, staff members were honored with the Collier Medal, the Staff Award for Distinction in Service, and the Gordon Y. Billard Award. 

The Collier Medal honors the memory of Officer Sean Collier, who gave his life protecting and serving MIT; it celebrates an individual or group whose actions demonstrate the importance of community. The Staff Award for Distinction in Service is presented to a staff member whose service results in a positive lasting impact on the Institute.

The Gordon Y. Billard Award is given annually to staff, faculty, or an MIT-affiliated individual(s) who has given “special service of outstanding merit performed for the Institute.” This year, for the first time, this award was presented at the MIT Excellence Awards and Collier Medal celebration. 

The 2024 MIT Excellence Award recipients and their award categories are: 

Innovative Solutions 

Nanotechnology Material Core Staff, Koch Institute for Integrative Cancer Research, Office of the Vice President for Research (Margaret Bisher, Giovanni de Nola, David Mankus, and Dong Soo Yun)

Bringing Out the Best 

Salvatore Ieni 

James Kelsey 

Lauren Pouchak

Serving Our Community 

Megan Chester 

Alessandra Davy-Falconi 

David Randall 

Days Weekend Team, Department of Custodial Services, Department of Facilities: Karen Melisa Betancourth, Ana Guerra Chavarria, Yeshi Khando, Joao Pacheco, and Kevin Salazar 

IMES/HST Academic Office Team, Institute for Medical Engineering and Science, School of Engineering: Traci Anderson, Joseph R. Stein, and Laurie Ward 

Team Leriche, Department of Custodial Services, Department of Facilities: Anthony Anzalone, David Solomon Carrasco, Larrenton Forrest, Michael Leriche, and Joe Vieira

Embracing Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion 

Bhaskar Pant 

Jessica Tam

Outstanding Contributor 

Paul W. Barone 

Marcia G. Davidson 

Steven Kooi 

Tianjiao Lei 

Andrew H. Mack

2024 MIT Excellence Awards + Collier Medal Ceremony

The 2024 Collier Medal recipient was Benjamin B. Lewis, a graduate student in the Institute for Data, Systems and Society in the MIT Schwarzman College of Computing. Last spring, he founded the Cambridge branch of End Overdose, a nonprofit dedicated to reducing drug-related overdose deaths. Through his efforts, more than 600 members of the Greater Boston community, including many at MIT, have been trained to administer lifesaving treatment at critical moments.

This year’s recipient of the 2024 Staff Award for Distinction in Service was Diego F. Arango (Department of Custodial Services, Department of Facilities), daytime custodian in Building 46. He was nominated by no fewer than 36 staff, faculty, students, and researchers for creating a positive working environment and for offering “help whenever, wherever, and to whomever needs it.”

Three community members were honored with a 2024 Gordon Y. Billard Award

Deborah G. Douglas, senior director of collections and curator of science and technology, MIT Museum

Ronald Hasseltine, assistant provost for research administration, Office of the Vice President for Research

Richard K. Lester, vice provost for international activities and Japan Steel Industry Professor of Nuclear Science and Engineering, School of Engineering

Presenters included President Sally Kornbluth; MIT Chief of Police John DiFava and Deputy Chief Steven DeMarco; Vice President for Human Resources Ramona Allen; Executive Vice President and Treasurer Glen Shor; Provost Cynthia Barnhart; Lincoln Laboratory director Eric Evans; Chancellor Melissa Nobles; and Dean of the School of Engineering Anantha Chandrakasan.

Visit the MIT Human Resources website for more information about the award recipients, categories, and to view photos and video of the event.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Green Lantern

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/8Y3nXaf by Lionheart1989 Cassidy Gaines, as the newest Green Lantern, is roped into an unauthorized mission with Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad, leading all four down a path to mayhem, super villain secret societies, and, of course, some romance too. TRANSFERRED FROM FANFICTION.NET Words: 4891, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F Characters: Zatanna Zatara, Giovanni "John" Zatara, Wally West, Dick Grayson, Artemis Crock, Kaldur'ahm | Jackson Hyde, M'gann M'orzz, Red Tornado, Raquel Ervin, Bruce Wayne, Dinah Lance, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), John Stewart (DCU), Kon-El | Conner Kent, Kyle Rayner, Jaime Reyes, Traci Thirteen, Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon Relationships: Zatanna Zatara/Original Female Character(s), Kid Flash & Robin, Artemis Crock & Dick Grayson & Kaldur'ahm & Kon-El | Conner Kent & M'Gann M'orzz & Wally West, Dick Grayson & Kaldur'ahm & Wally West, Artemis Crock/Wally West, Original Female Character & Artemis Crock, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan & Original Female Character, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) & John Stewart, Tim Drake/Cassie Sandsmark, Jaime Reyes/Traci Thirteen, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Original Green Lantern Character, Slow Burn, POV Lesbian Character, starts in season 1 read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/8Y3nXaf

[gesiatari]

I know where this list comes from and you have forgotten some comments

Someone on Tumblr also has a list But i propose my own list if you want:

Batman <=> Superman

Dick Grayson <=> Jimmy Olsen

Alfred <=> Ma and Pa Kent

Barbara Gordon <=> Kara Zor-El

Tim Drake <=> Kon-El

Jason Todd <=> Bizarro

Cassandra Cain <=> Kon-El or Cir-El

Stephanie Brown <=> Steel II (Natasha Irons)

Damian <=> Jon Kent or Chris Kent

Catwoman <=> Lois Lane

Thomas Duke <=> Kong Kenan

Jim Gordon <=> Maggie Sawyer

Lucius Fox <=> Perry White

Ace <=> Krypto

Alfred (the cat) <=> Streaky

Goliath <=> Comet/Byron

Harley quin <=> Mercy

Azrael <=> Eradicator

Batmite <=> Mr Mxyzptlk

Batwing (David Zavimbe) <=> Steel (John Henry Irons)

Huntress (Helena Wayne) <=> Powergirl

Harper Row <=> Traci 13

Don't really have a match for Bibbo Bibbowski, Lellie thompson, Ghostmaker, Batwoman

No need to explain

First partner of the hero; pre-Crisis they were friends, have the same age, Jimmy even became Flamebird, a Robin-like; don't very talk post-crisis

Parental figure of the hero

First female partner of the hero, pre-crisis they were friends, have the same age, don't very talk post-crisis

Young Justice

Outlaw, pretend to be the black sheep of the family

Created like a weapon/replacement by a villain, decided to be more than that, the villain in question is a parental figures and not a good one (David Cain/Luthor/Futursmith)

Sucessor of Batgirl/Supergirl

Super-Son or bio-son of a villain adopted by the hero

Love interest

Most recent addition to the family

Cop Friend

Work Friend

The dog

The cat

The "realist comics are boring, embrace the silly"

Sidekick of the nemesis

Anti-hero, true black sheep

Imps

Ingenior in a flying armor, inspired by the hero, mostly independant

Duo from Earth-2

I found this pairing very funny

Matching Superfam up to Batfam

So I totally stole this from the internet, but it's a fun exercise in trying to get the Super-fam to match up to the Bat-fam in terms of members. Here is a starting list (not mine, I stole it from the internet). It is delightful:

Batman-->Superman

Dick Grayson-->Jimmy Olsen

Alfred-->Ma and Pa Kent

Barbara Gordon-->Supergirl

Tim Drake-->Conner

Jason Todd--->Powergirl

Cassandra Cain--->Kong

Stephanie Brown-->Lana Lang

Damian-->Jon Kent

Catwoman--->Lois Lane

Thomas Duke--->Perry White

Jim Gordon-->John Henry

Batwoman

Ace-->Krypto

Harley quin??---->Luthor??

Azrael??

Batmite??

Lucius Fox

Lellie thompson

Ghostmaker

Batwing

Huntress??--->Natasha Irons

Making this list involves two wonderful questions: (1) who is the Bat-fam / Super-fam; and (2) how do those people match up against one another.

[hebuiltfive]

The Alaskan Train Crash: The Letter

Fresh off the mission, Scott joins Jeff in the family's private office. Apparently it would seem more mysterious are afoot.

Words: 2,450

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Tags: Artist!Virgil, Post season three, slight AU, Mentions of hospitals, Mentions of Blood, description of train crash, Light Angst

Series: Part 1 of The Long Game

Notes: Disclaimers as usual: I own nothing but the words to this particular story.

We're finally at the end of part one! I finalised this chapter back in May, so posting it now just feels like it's been such a long time. Anyone who read the short I posted for Scott's birthday back in April (called Thirty) might remember a certain letter being mentioned. It's finally made it's appearance here! But what does it all mean? What new situation will International Rescue be thrust into next?

The next part and subsequent chapters are very exciting, even if I do so say myself, so I hope you stick around. I will be posting it very, very soon!

Read it below or on AO3 here.

Part 1:

Chapter 1 found here on Tumblr, or here on AO3.

Chapter 2 found here on Tumblr, or here on AO3.

Chapter 3 found here on Tumblr, or here on A03.

Dawn had only just broken over the island. Usually Scott would have been out at first light, getting in his daily exercises before the rest of his brothers woke. Gordon occasionally joined him and together they watched as tropic birds swooped around the trees, their cries echoed throughout the blues and pinks of the early morning sky. There was nothing more beautiful in the world than a sunrise, Scott often thought, but today he was still indoors, sitting in his father’s office whilst he waited for him to arrive. From the window ahead of him, the rising sun cast bright golden hues of daylight into the otherwise darkened space. 

Though he was naturally well kept and tidy, it was Jeff’s years in the United States Air Force that helped hone his trait. His office was spotless. Everything was organised. Bookshelves were lined with all sorts of books from aerospace dynamics to a few older treasures, such as Torchy, Virgil’s favourite childhood story, that he kept for memories sake. 

Scott sat in one of the plush leather armchairs that sat in front of his father’s grand wooden desk. Compared to the rest of the villa, Jeff’s private office was much more ornate. Whilst the villa had been built with the technological advances of the late 21st century, the private office felt more in keeping with the late 19th century. With the dark wood-panelled walls, and furniture made of wood rather than plastic or glass, Scott never understood why Jeff had designed the space in such an un-Jeff-like way.  His father had always been about advancements and up-to-date designs. It was a question Scott had always wanted to ask his father and now perhaps, with him home again, he might finally be able to ask why.

The thought was thrown from his mind when Jeff finally appeared in the doorway of the office. He entered in a hurry and, with both of his hands full, each holding a plate, he closed the door behind him with a soft kick of his foot. Jeff set one of the plates down in front of Scott. The smell had travelled to him long before he saw what was on the dish. Pastries. Fresh looking pastries, that smelt… unusually good. He cautiously took in the sight of the food in front of him as his father took the seat on the other side of the table.

Noticing Scott’s apprehensive look, Jeff quickly eased his worries. “Don’t worry, it’s edible. Do not tell your grandmother but I got Virgil to get these a few days ago. They’re the last in the batch. I figured you’d be wanting some breakfast too.”

His stomach grumbled as Jeff spoke and Scott managed to hide his smile. One bite of the sweet pastry wrap and he was in heaven. Bless Grandma Tracy, but her cooking skills were in dire need of improvement. 

Together Jeff and Scott sat in silence, munching away on their food. The seconds-hand on Jeff’s ornate mantle piece clock ticked away in the quiet. 

“What’s with the Lord of the Manor vibes? I’ve always wondered why it’s so… old in here, but never found the time to ask.” Scott queried in between mouthfuls.

Jeff quirked a brow in question, glancing around the decadent room when his son gestured. He placed his pastry back onto the plate in front of him and wiped his hands free of the flaky crumbs. “When I was a little boy, Pa and Ma used to take me to visit my old grandaddy. He had an office that was as grand as anything.” Jeff chuckled fondly as he remembered. “That space was where I first began to draft up the ideas that were to take Tracy Industries into the future. That space was where I took my call from the Space Agency to be the first man on Mars. That space held so many memories that I had it implemented into the designs when I built this place. In a way, it’s an homage to your great-granddaddy, but it also acts as a reminder, to myself, of some of my most monumental accomplishments.”

“That’s…” Scott trailed off and smiled as he took in his father’s words. He could tell there were emotions that the memories had brought forward. As Jeff took another bite of his pastry, there was a glint in his eye. Family had a way of bringing out the best in people, but occasionally it could also create the most haunting of feelings. Memories with loved ones of times long since passed always remained cherished, but those same memories could also sometimes sting. Bittersweet, that was what memories of family long gone were. Reminders of what someone had, long ago. Scott thought back to those years when Jeff was absent, of the many memories he had of his father that often crossed his mind. None of them had really acknowledged it in the months following the Zero XL mission, but they had been so close to losing their father forever, and they wouldn’t have been any the wiser. Had the Calypso not been on a crash course with the earth, had Brayman not been saved from the watery depths, had they not received Jeff’s SOS…

Scott was tired and his brain was wandering through thoughts he didn’t want to think about again. Quickly he finished up his own pastry and decided to change the subject. “You wanted to talk? What’s new to report, dad?”

Jeff hesitated, and that single act alone had Scott panicked. “I’m heading into the hospital later on today.”

Oh.

Scott tried to keep his face neutral. “Everything alright?”

“Fine, they just want to do some more tests. You know how doctors are, always concerned about something.” Jeff chuckled but the smile didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m leaving at noon with Grandma.”

“How long will they keep you this time?” 

He was trying to not sound irritated, but Jeff seemed to pick up on it anyway.

“Scott, I’m fine…”

“If you were fine, dad, you wouldn’t be needing half a dozen hospital trips every month!” He finally snapped. Not only was Scott physically exhausted from being awake for over twenty-four hours now, but he was tired of having to make the same argument over and over again. Why was no-one listening to him? Why would no-one take his side? Jeff needed to rest, to recover. Despite his father’s constant reassurances, Scott knew that he was nowhere near fine. He knew it wasn’t an easy fact to tackle, but he felt like he was the only one who even dared suggest it. It made him angry, yes, but also so worn out. 

“Son…” Jeff began, but was abruptly cut off by Scott, who had since risen from his chair.

“No, dad! You need to listen to me, okay? You need to start being more honest with how you’re feeling and you need to take a break. All these stresses and strains from work aren’t going to aid in your healing and—”

“Sit down.” Jeff didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. Scott recognised the commander’s tone in his words.

He immediately stopped his rant and did as his father ordered. He didn’t care if he came across as rude or impolite. It wasn’t disrespectful to someone if it was the truth, and he’d stand by that if his father accused him of being such.

But to his surprise, Jeff didn’t say anything of the sort. Instead, a look of calm reflectiveness crossed his features and his father sighed. “Look, son, I know where you’re coming from, but the truth is I have to keep busy to stop myself from worrying over whatever the hell is happening to my body.”

Scott could understand that. When they had thought Jeff dead, Scott found himself often burying in International Rescue work. The distraction not only helped him from going insane, but it also had the added bonus of helping other people around them.

“Trust me when I tell you,” Jeff continued, “that I only do what I feel I’m capable of, Scott. You don’t need to worry about me overdoing things. I know my limits.”

An understanding passed between father and son, then. Eight years in the Oort Cloud hadn’t lessened Scott’s trust in his father. He wasn’t about to start letting something break that bond now.

Jeff cleared his throat. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about as well.” He bent down to reach the bottom drawer of his desk and, for a moment, Scott could only see the top of his father’s grey head. How much greyer had he grown in his desolation? Scott could swear his father had more colour to his hair before he’d been stranded…

“You can’t mention this to the others.” Jeff reappeared and in his hand was a crisp envelope. It was whiter than snow, suggesting to Scott that it wasn’t the kind of old, yellowing paper he was used to seeing from his father’s childhood. “I don’t want them to… panic.”

“I can keep a secret.” He was intrigued now. Scott took in the mysterious envelope. “Paper? Who uses paper these days?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to be easily traced, I’d imagine.” Jeff slid the envelope over the table toward his son and then leaned back into his chair. “Tell me what you think of the letter inside.”

Picking up the envelope, Scott peeled back the opening. He noted that it had already been opened, he assumed by his father, and pulled out the sheet of paper. It was equally as fresh as the envelope. The words were not printed on the paper but rather scrawled in black ink. Thankfully, it was still legible enough for Scott to read.

Mr. Tracy!

We hear the patriarch has finally returned home.

Some will be pleased. Some not so much.

We imagine some competitors will be glowing green with envy at the news.

July 8th. 

Fiftieth Floor. Vienna Plaza. New York.

Your old pal Shipman is having a party.

Dress for the Press, dear Tracy.

It will be a night that will go down in history.

Oh, and wondering who we are? Attend and all your questions will be answered.

Or don’t. We don’t control you yet.

Continue living in the dark if you so wish.

But things have changed oh-so-much since you left. It’s about time you joined the sport.

Trust us, you won't want to miss the fireworks.

Signed, deeply concerned citizens.

Scott turned the sheet over, but the message had indeed finished. He reread the note over twice more before slipping it back into the envelope and handing the whole thing back to Jeff. “A little dramatic, don’t you think? Who sent it?”

“I don’t know.” 

He could tell his father was just as curious as he was. Their previous heart-to-heart was a mere memory now as both their minds turned entirely to the puzzle the envelope presented. 

“It arrived on my desk back in Kansas. Marie found it this morning — I suppose it would be yesterday morning now — and she had it mailed over here for me. I sent a copy over to Penelope whilst you boys were out this evening. She’s usually good with this sort of thing but even she’s turning up blank at the moment.”

Scott’s fingers drummed rhythmically against the wood of his father’s desk. 

Jeff noticed and quirked a brow. “I’m assuming they mean Colin Shipman. What came of that guy whilst I was gone?” At his son’s quizzical look, he quickly clarified, “Well, last I heard of him he was struggling to sell his backwater business to even those who didn’t value safety and regulation.”

“He was shut down, a few years back now.” Scott confirmed with a nod. “His business was deemed unsafe by some new military outlet and was quickly forced to liquidate.”

“Well, Casey certainly had no time for unsafe—”

“No, it wasn’t the GDF who shut him down, dad. He’s actually just been granted a new contract with them. Exclusive.”

Jeff blinked. Scott knew exactly what he was thinking before he burst out, “Over Tracy Industries?”

“Apparently Casey’s concerns about Shipman weren’t heard, and the board were concerned about her ‘apparent favouritism’ with us. So far, according to Casey’s updates, he’s actually shown vast improvements in his business. He’s now going under Shipman Robotics last I heard.”

“What exactly is he doing for the GDF?” 

His father was suspicious, Scott could tell, but he could only shrug. “Supplying components for whatever projects the GDF are working on, I think. It’s all very hush-hush. Even Kayo can’t get a good look in. Details are only available to those in-the-know.”

There was a gentle knock on the door, and a head appeared in the crack. “Dad?”

Jeff quickly hid the envelope in the lapel of his jacket, his concerned features transforming into a warm smile. “Come in, son.”

Still bleary eyed from sleep, Alan padded into the office. His eyes crossed from Jeff to Scott. “Was I interrupting?”

“No.” It was Scott who answered. He stood from his seat as Alan made his way toward their father’s desk. “I was just leaving.” Scott ruffled his youngest brother’s hair. 

Alan made a whining sound and flapped his arms around in an attempt to shake Scott off. “Stop it!”

Scott chuckled, ceasing his actions, and turned back to his father with a knowing look. “I’ll try and speak to Penny later, see if she’s got anything. That date is fast approaching. I’ll see if I can clear my calendar for—”

“No-one is going to that event, Scott.” As though he’d forgotten Alan was present, Jeff went deadly serious once again. “Not until we know exactly what this is about.”

“What event?” Alan yawned, wanting in on whatever his father and brother were talking about.

“Nothing.” Scott tried to ruffle Alan’s hair again, but he was too slow. 

Alan dodged him and took a seat in the chair Scott had vacated. “Ha! Oh.” The change in position had highlighted the bags under Scott’s eyes and Alan frowned. “When did you last sleep, bro? You should go try and catch some zees before the day truly begins.”

Though he was far from finished talking to his father about it all, Scott knew Alan was right. Lack of sleep would render him a liability. Besides, no real conversations were going to be had whilst his younger brother was present. Scott made for the door. “We’ll speak later, dad. I’ll try and catch you before you leave for the mainland.”