#brains (thunderbirds

[squiddokiddo]

Thunderbird emoji combos: Brains edition✨

[skymaiden32]

Secret Keepers

Can be read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Continuity: TOS

Synopsis: Jeff’s family are keeping something from him.

Happy Father's Day to all who celebrate! ^^

------

Jeff yawned as he sat up in bed, sparing a quick glance at the barely illuminated clock on the wall. He grimaced. It was seven in the morning, and he hadn’t gotten to bed until three. When would he learn? He huffed; no use laying in bed grumbling, and disappeared into his bathroom to have a shower. Jeff breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the warm water running down his back. Already, he felt a lot more awake, and he was ready to start his day. 

He emerged from his room, ducking out of the way just in time as Gordon barrelled past him, carrying something in his arms that Jeff couldn’t identify. “Sorry, Dad!” His second youngest yelled as he disappeared round the corner. Jeff shook his head. That boy of his was going to get someone killed one of these days, and it was probably gonna be a household member. Luckily for his son, Jeff still felt too tired to deal with it and resolved to just have breakfast instead.

“Oh, Jeff! You’re awake!”

Jeff nodded in acknowledgement at the voice. “Good morning, Mother.”

Ruth Tracy frowned. “We all thought you’d be staying in bed for a bit longer, dear.”

“No point.” Jeff shrugged. “I wouldn’t get back to sleep anyway…”

His mother hummed. “Perhaps you would’ve if you tried.”

He frowned. “Pardon my asking, but why do you want me to get more sleep?” Maybe it was risky to ask the question, but it was one he had to ask. “You’ve always been insistent on all of us waking up early.”

Ruth glared at him immediately, and Jeff realised the risk he’d taken was not worth it. “I heard you get to bed at three this morning, young man. You need sleep.” She took a step towards him, clearly with the aim of herding him back towards his room.

Jeff frowned, trying his best to argue as she grabbed a hold of his arm. “I don’t have time to go to bed, Mother.” She ignored him, now on a mission to get at least one of her family to sleep in. Jeff almost spluttered as he tried, and failed, to resist. “I-I’ve got work to do!”

“Work you can easily do later, son.” Ruth stated matter-of-factly. She opened the door to Jeff’s room, and guided him over to the bed in the middle. “At least try to get some more sleep, Jefferson. Please. You need it.”

Jeff sighed, relenting when he saw that pleading look in his mother’s eyes. “Okay, Mother. I promise I’ll try…”

She nodded with a small smile, closing the door behind her, leaving Jeff to his thoughts. She’d never done that before. And just why was Gordon rushing past his door earlier? What was his son carrying? He huffed, closing his eyes and trying to sleep some more, just as he’d promised his mother. He was tired now, but the mystery was doing it’s best to keep him awake.

It took a few minutes of tossing and turning before Jeff threw the sheets off again, silently grumbling as he opened the door a crack, just in case someone was on the other side, watching and waiting. Looking around, he caught sight of Scott in the hallway, with his back to the door. He was holding his wrist up to his mouth, looking and talking down at an image on his watch. John. Jeff hummed inwardly, listening into what little he could hear of his sons’ conversation. 

“You sure that’ll work, John?” His eldest’s voice was in a hushed whisper. “You know what he’s like…”

“Positive.” John’s voice came back staticky, and Jeff frowned. The signal should be clear as day. He’d have to schedule maintenance for Thunderbird 5. Inwardly, he wondered what the problem might be. Were the antennae crooked? Was it a problem with the solar panels or the on-board nuclear reactor? Was it Tracy Island’s antennae that was the issue? He supposed the answers to that problem could only really be answered by Brains. He came back to the conversation in front of him, only to realise he’d missed a big chunk of it while musing on the comms issue. “...it should be easy enough.”

“Good.” The grin in Scott’s voice was audible. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“FAB!” The tiny John gave a thumbs up, and the device shut off, reverting back to a simple watch face. Scott hummed, looking around, before turning towards the lounge.

Jeff watched as he went. Just what was going on here? He didn’t think he’d ever seen his eldest and middle sons acting so secretively before. Well, he made up his mind. He was going to find out. As quietly as he could, he opened up his bedroom door, and sneaked his way down the hall into the lounge. And what he found was…

…His sons setting up some decorations. His mother making some finishing touches to a cake. Brains and Tin-Tin huddled in the corner, fiddling about with some new-fangled gadget of theirs. None of them seemed to have noticed him yet. The banner in the centre of the room caught his eye. 

‘Happy Father’s Day!’ 

Between the increase in rescues and a bunch of yellow tape at Tracy Industries, there’d been so much going on lately. He’d completely forgotten. But clearly, they hadn’t. He could’ve cried. 

“So is John really sure that will work?” Jeff was ripped from his thoughts by Virgil’s voice. The artist was heavily scrutinising a particular decor that was clearly the spacebound astronaut’s suggestion. 

Alan stood next to him, squinting his eyes. “You know what Virg? It will work. It’s space themed!” The youngest Tracy grinned, turning to his brother. “And we all know space is Dad’s favourite place…” He rhymed, a sing-song tone in his voice.

Virgil smiled back. “Yeah, we do know.” They stepped back from the table, revealing a spread of dishes and treats, each one creatively moulded to look like stars, nebulae and the occasional comet. 

“Alright everyone! Looks like we’re all set!” Scott’s voice broke through the organised chaos.

Gordon smirked, almost devilish. “Want me to go wake them up?”

“First of all, Gordon Tracy,” Grandma interrupted, “we all know you, so absolutely not.” Gordon shrugged, unbothered by the accusation. “Secondly,” she turned her head in the direction of the hall. Jeff froze like a deer in headlights. “I think one of them may already know what’s going on…” Everyone mirrored her movements, simply looking at Jeff in disbelief.

All Jeff could do was play it cool. “I’m guessing you wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, come on…” Alan lamented. “What gave us away…?”

Jeff looked between them, eyes landing on Gordon and Scott in particular. “You weren’t exactly discreet.” He grinned. “Although, it is a nice surprise. I assume we’re waiting on Kyrano?”

“But of course, Mr Tracy. It’s his day as well!” Tin-Tin beamed. “Brains and I have prepared a little gift for him.”

“W-We hope it’ll help with those f-fits of his, M-Mr Tracy.” Brains explained. “Or at the v-very least let us know w-what’s going on. I-It’ll a-analyse his brain waves a-and interpret them i-into definitive data.”

If at all possible, Jeff’s smile widened. “That’s great! He’ll want to know just as much as the rest of us. Should I go get him and act surprised with him?”

Virgil gave a thumbs up. “Sounds like a plan. See you in a minute!”

“Don’t lay it on too thick!” Gordon advised as his father left, now on a mission.

It didn’t take long for Jeff to reach Kyrano’s door, giving it a knock. He was kind of shocked at how quickly his friend answered. “Yes, Mr Tracy? Can I help you with anything?”

“Meeting in the lounge. It’s urgent.” He thought it up on the spot. Not ideal, but it would do.

Kyrano looked a little perplexed, and a bit worried, at the adamant tone in Jeff’s voice. “...Very well.” He exited the room, closing the door to follow his employer. “May I ask what this meeting is about?”

“I don’t really know, I’m afraid. My mother’s called it.” Jeff continued to lead the way, hiding his smile. “I’ve never seen her so sure about something.”

No sooner had they stepped foot in the lounge, a cacophony of voices yelled out, “Surprise! Happy Father’s Day!” Kyrano jumped, startled at first. But once Tin-Tin started clinging to him, giving him the biggest hug, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“My daughter. My friends. What a pleasant surprise.” He shared a look with Jeff. “This is for both of us?” A series of nodding heads answered his question. “Thank you. For thinking of me also…”

“Kyrano, how could we not?” Alan stood next to Tin-Tin, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back, eyes gentle as she looked at him. 

Gordon got in the middle of the group, a very serious look on his face. “So, we’re gonna get this party started, right?”

“Yes, of course we are.” Jeff gave his son a look. “Be patient. It’ll be worth it.” He looked around the room, noticing each set piece and decoration that reflected either him or his dear friend. “You all have done an amazing job.”

If you were to ask either Jeff or Kyrano, way into the future, what days stood out to them in their long lives, chances were they would say one particular Father’s Day on Tracy Island. It was definitely worth the suspense. And the secrets…

[edorazzi]

More Thunderbirds Are Go comics! 🚀✨

It's been a while but I've had the first two lying around for months waiting to post a full set! In which neurodivergent John sets off people's AI detectors, gets bullied for his fashion choices, and Penelope battles with her conflicting standards when it comes to Gordon...

[idontknowreallywhy]

Following in his footsteps

Finished this idea off on the commute so apologies for typos, clumsy wording and for inconsistencies in the sounds Brains stutters on…

It’s a bit of a mystery as to why Scott, the first born, was named after the 4th of the Mercury Seven whose flight and piloting decisions were somewhat controversial and left him in conflict with flight control (sound familiar?). Anyway I find myself intrigued by that particular 1960’s flyboy, particularly as to one thing he did 1/3 of the way through his trip with his fuel running low…

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

“S-SCOTT C-C-CARPENTER TRACY!!!”

John later confirmed that this was indeed the first time in Tracy history that Brains ever been apoplectic enough to middle name any of them. His ire was usually quiet and dry, with occasional sarcasm. Every so often some non-vital but comfort-providing item might be removed from a Thunderbird for “essential maintenance”… the cushioning of One’s pilot seat, the power supply to Two’s coffee machine…

But generally, after more than a decade living with the Tracys, their long-suffering engineer had cultivated the talent of providing emotionally restrained feedback. Albeit there was good reason MAX was unable to mimic the phrases that were muttered over mangled landing gear, flooded engines, overstrained thrusters and the like.

This Wednesday morning, however, something had clearly pushed him over the edge.

“What did you doooo?” Alan hissed in alarm and was immediately shushed by a heavily frowning Virgil, whose fingers appeared unable to release the unfortunately tense chord he’d just leaned into. John’s hologram popped up looking serious. Even Gordon looked incredibly uncomfortable.

From the guilt-ridden look on Scott’s face, he could think of least three reasons his neck might be on the block this morning.

A tightly wound ball of fury approached the seating area and the speed with which International Rescue’s commander leapt from the couch betrayed his initial instinct to bolt from the room and never stop running. However, decades of experience of facing the music from many and varied sources meant his feet remained firmly rooted to the floor, while the rest of his body sought the security of parade rest.

Brains stood in front of him vibrating with rage. The ends of MAX’s arms were positioned at an approximation of where the robot’s hips might be. The room held its breath. Virgil’s foot remained wedged against the sustain pedal. The melodramatic chord continued reverberating around the lounge.

The engineer suddenly raised a hand and everyone flinched. Had their friend finally resorted to violence?

Scott closed his eyes and awaited whatever engineering justice was deemed merited for… whatever it was he had done.

But the shorter man’s movement as he reached up to Scott’s face was slow, deliberate and with a slight frown of concentration he stuck a 75mm square of blue duct tape precisely in the middle of Scott’s forehead.

Virgil jaw dropped and his foot finally slipped off the pedal. The dampers clunked back into place, allowing an ominous silence to reign for a few moments.

The colour coded rolls of multi-purpose tape included within each baldric was one of Brains’ affectionate little thematic touches but also acted as a crude fingerprint… blue tape could only ever have been used by one person.

The Commander’s eyebrows twitched almost audibly as he tried to puzzle out the strange sensation but his eyes remained screwed shut.

When Brains spoke it was barely more than a whisper and the brothers in the room found themselves leaning in. The brother in space appeared to have located a bucket of popcorn.

“D-do you h-happen, to know how l-long I have spent p-perfecting One’s fuel reserve s-system, S-Scott?”

Scott swallowed, hard, and opened his eyes again.

“Quite a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Ahh, did I ever thank you? I should have, I’m very sorry - thank you for that and for all your work, Brains. It really is appreciated.”

“Is it?”

“Of course!”

“Hmmm.”

Scott opened his mouth again but, accepting that his attempt to divert the conversation had failed, clearly thought better of digging any deeper until the nature of the situation became more clearly defined.

Brains’ hand lifted for a second time, another square of blue tape delicately held between thumb and forefinger. This was placed with some care on the very tip of Scott’s nose.

Alan snorted. Gordon punched him in the arm and was elbowed back. Virgil glared them into silence then nearly lost control himself at the sight of his elder brother going cross eyed in an attempt to establish what on earth he was being decorated with.

Brains spun on his heel to face the rest and they all leaned back hurriedly, feigning casual interest. Nobody wanted to appear to be aware of, to be accidentally associated with whatever crime it was Scott had committed.

“Th-thunderbird One uses t-two fuels but h-has th-th-three fuel tanks. As you all know, th-the balance of fuel t-to achieve m-maximum speed is p-precisely c-calculated and th-the system that g-governs it is h-highly sophisticated.”

Everyone nodded except Scott who was trying and failing to pretend he was unbothered by the additions to his face. His nose twitched compulsively.

“D-due to certain t-tendencies of her p-rimary p-p-pilot, One h-has a reserve t-tank. Th-that blend of fuel w-will not achieve the h-highest speeds b-but will ensure she is able t-to return h-home if a SENSIBLE…” the word was ground out as if it was painful “…speed is m-maintained.”

Brains paused. Every eye in the room shifted to Scott. Max bleeped, judgementally. Brains continued, his voice deadly calm and deeply terrifying for it.

“T-to ensure One’s p-pilot d-does not m-miss the fuel status w-warnings amongst th-the p-p-plethora of information on the h-holographic display I installed th-three LED bulbs t-to m-make it QU-QUITE CLEAR w-when l-levels w-were running low and w-when speed n-needed t-to be m-m-m-moderated in order t-to avoid d-damage t-to her supply p-p-p-p-pipeline a-a-a-and e-en-en-engines!”

Brains’ veneer of calm was cracking and Scott, who had clearly solved the mystery, appeared to be chewing through the inside of his face. Brains spun back to face the object of his wrath. MAX’s mechanical eyes narrowed.

“W-warning l-lights are only effective w-when th-they are v-visible!”

Scott gulped and fell back on the only defence he had left - he gave his old friend a dimpled half-grin and a doomed attempt at mitigation:

“They were a little… distracting?”

“D-distracting.”

The full stop was potent and echoed around them. Brains appeared on the edge of an eruption the like of which Tracy Island had never seen, even when the volcano was active. But he mastered himself and produced a final square of tape which he held in front of Scott’s face for a moment before slapping it down on to the top of his head, rubbing it slightly to ensnare as much perfectly styled hair as possible before storming from the room.

MAX remained just long enough to shake a medium-weight hydro-spanner with extreme prejudice before flouncing impressively and trundling after his master.

Alan and Gordon clung to each other, faces contorted with silent mirth. Virgil caught John’s eye then cleared his throat and appeared about to speak before being forestalled by his Commander’s raised palm.

Lacking a little of his usual gravitas due to the tape fluttering gently in the huffed breath from his nose, Scott still poured every ounce of authority he had left into an order of three short syllables:

“Not. A. Word.”

[call-me-casual]

So I’ve been thinking about the TAG “behind the scenes” skits, they cross my mind almost daily.

It’s just so brilliant the way they did it. The idea of having the characters wander around at a side proportional to the sets is way cuter than it has any right to be and the 100% done film crew is just hilarious.

It makes me want to build a whole au around the concept, just the Tracy boys being tiny and causing chaos. Like, imagine you spent years studying film or something and your new job consists of trying to prevent Virgil from burning himself on the coffee machine, or stopping Scott from trying to steal the director’s car keys to go on a joyride (probably @idontknowreallywhy ‘s dream job lol)

Bonus points if they can’t talk at first and instead sound like baby alligators!

I’ve also been letting a TOS version marinade in my brain for a while, but that one is kiiiind of leaning into horror territory rn-

[laughing-moonlight]

When the Incorrect Quote Generator is determined to make Scott Tracy the man ever

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Who says I'm going to leave Brains and Parker safe this summer ;)

@uniwolfcorn @teapotteringabout @skymaiden32 @knyee @janetm74 @the-original-sineater @thundergeek59 @riallasheng @katblu42 @mariashades @room-on-broom @yarol2075 @llamawrites @etrnlvoid @soniabigcheese

[gumnut-logic]

"Scott, do you have him?"

"No, I thought you had him!" Scott came to a halt in the corridor just outside the hangars, his breathing harsh.

"He ran in your direction!" Gordon’s voice was frantic.

"He ran? How could he run? He can barely walk!"

"He was running! John, where is he?"

"Heading towards Two's hangar."

Scott darted the last few metres into the huge cavern. Thunderbird Two towered above him, the only sound the howling wind of the cyclone outside. "I'm in Two's hangar."

"It's a big hangar, Scott. I've sent Alan to assist."

"So which entrance? Send Gordon down here, too."

"He’s entered at the northern end. Gordon is covering security."

Scott wished, not for the first time, that Kayo hadn’t chosen this weekend to hang out with Rigby. "How the hell did he get out anyway?"

"I think we should make sure he is safe before we start assigning blame." And there was the guilt.

"What did you do, Gordon?"

"Nothing! He wanted chocolate...so..."

"You left him alone to get him some chocolate?! You know how he can react to new medications. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him!"

"Can we find him first and not blame me later?"

"Found him!"

"Alan, you be careful."

"C'mon, he wouldn't hurt me!" The sound that followed that statement was more a squawk than anything else. It was followed by a crash that echoed the length of the hangar.

"Alan?" Scott started running. "Alan!"

"I'm...I'm okay. Though we now have proof that he can pick me up with one hand and throw me like a football." A grunt. “Always thought he was boasting about that.”

"Alan! I'm coming to you."

"I'm fine, Scott. Ooooh!"

There was a slam of a door that echoed the length of the hangar. "I've got Alan, Scott. He's o- Alan, that is not supposed to bend that way!"

"Gordon!"

"Thunderbird Three is down for the count. Broken arm. I'm taking him to the infirmary and Grandma. You'll need to field the target until I get back."

Field the target. After this, Gordon was fielding sanitation duty for a month.

A soft footfall.

Scott spun.

Virgil stood in a torn infirmary gown, glazed eyes looking up at his ‘bird. The gown had been ripped down one side and the bandages on his arm were tangled and trailing behind him.

Voice calm and soft. “Virgil?”

That disoriented gaze found him and his brother’s eyebrows crumpled. “What?”

Scott dared a small step forward. “Hey, Virg. How are you feeling?”

His brother blinked slowly. “You can’t keep me here. I will escape.”

Damn. “Virg, you’re home. You’re safe.”

“You’re lying.” Virgil’s top lip curled up in a snarl.

“I’m not, Virgil.” He held up his hands trying to be open and friendly.

“You just want our technology. You want to hurt my family.” His injured, but still very heavy lifting brother took a step forward. “You won’t succeed.”

“I am your family. Please believe me. You’ve been injured and medicated. You’re not seeing things straight.”

Virgil growled. “You hurt Gordon. You crushed him beneath tons of rock at the bottom of the ocean! I wasn’t there to help him then, but I am here now!”

His brother shouldn’t have been able to move that fast, certainly not high as a kite on painkillers. But suddenly he was on Scott and a mass of angry flailing limbs.

“Virgil!” Scott ducked an elbow aiming for his head, only to catch one in his gut. Virgil was off his face, but he had been taught by Kayo and her father as much as the rest of them, even though he was the least inclined to use it.

And he was all solid muscle.

“Virgil!” Scott made a grab for an arm and missed, paying for it with a solid connection to his side that had several ribs groaning. He scurried backwards, attempting to avoid his brother’s reach. “C’mon. Please don’t do this.”

“You won’t hurt us anymore!” Virgil’s fist was a solid projectile that Scott barely avoided. He skipped and dodged as his brother growled. If Virgil pinned him, he was screwed.

“I’m your brother! Your big brother! Virgil, please! I would never hurt you.” He backed off hastily as his brother moved in.

“You nearly killed him! You nearly killed little Gordy. How could you do that? How could you?!”

Virgil rushed him again and Scott was hard put to keep out of reach, those huge fists determined to do him damage. Perhaps he could have dodged his brother for some time, except something came up against the back of Scott’s shins and he was suddenly falling backwards.

Shiiiiit!

A blur of green as he landed hard, and he realised he had fallen over Thunderbird Two’s landing strut.

It was a conspiracy of pilot and machine.

Virgil loomed over him as he struggled to move out of the way. This was going to hurt.

But his brother suddenly flinched, a small sound of distress falling from his lips. He turned around to find Gordon lowering a tranquilliser gun and Scott got a full view of the dart embedded in Virgil’s shoulder.

“No! No! You can’t! I won’t let you! No!” He took a step in Gordon’s direction and Scott used the opportunity to scuttle to his feet.

“Virgil, it’s Gordon. I’m okay, see?” He held up his hands. The tranquilliser gun had vanished.

Virgil stared at him. “No, please, please don’t hurt him. Please, he’s my little brother…”

The injured engineer waivered where he stood, a hand going to his head as he staggered.

Scott edged a little closer as Gordon did the same.

But the spirit hadn’t left Virgil and as he caught sight of Scott once again, he took another swing at him.

It was uncoordinated and Scott stepped out of reach easily. Virgil staggered and nearly fell. Scott had to fight the urge to jump in and help.

Wide, fear-filled brown eyes caught his as his brother waivered badly. “Scott? No, I can’t-“

And Virgil folded, Scott barely managing to catch him before he hit the concrete floor. Gordon darted in, helping him to lower their heavy brother down gently.

Virgil struggled weakly, still determined not to give it up, muttering Gordon’s name over and over again.

“I’m okay, bro. I’m safe.” Gordon’s voice was almost as tearful and desperate as Virgil’s. He grabbed his brother’s hand, holding it tight in both of his own. “See, it’s me.”

Scott held his brother close as those brown eyes stared at Gordon, finally stilling their struggles. A whisper. “Gords?”

A smile spread over the aquanaut’s face. “Yeah, Virg, it’s me.”

“I’m so sorry…” But Virgil’s eyes rolled up in his head and his body fell limp as the tranquilliser finally had the last word.

Scott clutched his brother close as Gordon stared at the unconscious man and swallowed hard. Carnelian eyes caught Scott’s, but nothing was said before the aquanaut was thumbing his comms and calling Grandma down with a stretcher.

Pulling Virgil in even tighter, Scott closed his eyes and buried his face in black hair.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke with a headache and a foul taste in his mouth.

The obvious smells of the infirmary alerted him to where he was, and even this deep in the mountain, he could hear the storm still raging outside.

He groaned. Damned cyclone. Two was going to need a full overhaul after that landing.

Landing.

Memory tracked him approaching Tracy Island, desperate to get home before the cyclone hit, but sure that Two could handle the conditions. After all, she had tackled much worse on many an occasion.

But there was a blank. He didn’t remember landing and all his memory could supply was a jumbled mess of terror.

“Scott!” He sat straight up in bed, his heart suddenly racing, thudding in his chest, absolutely terrified. What had happened to his brothers?

Hands grabbed him and, for a split second, that fear multiplied as he realised his own hands were tied down and he couldn’t free them.

“Virgil! You’re safe. You’re home. You’re safe.” Scott’s voice, panicked and desperate. A pair of worried blue eyes and Virgil latched onto them. A moment of stillness, recognition. He was in the infirmary. Scott had him. He was okay.

God, his head hurt.

“Scott?”

A tentative hopeful smile. “You with me, Virg?”

“Uh, yeah.” He pulled at his arms, looking down to find his wrists strapped with medical restraints. His left arm was swathed in bandages and was complaining. A frown. “What happened?”

Scott stepped back a little, but his hands didn’t leave Virgil’s shoulders. “You had a bit of a rough landing. Two did her best, but you got a bit shook up.”

Landing.

He searched his memory. Still nothing. No specifics, just a haze. But this wasn’t the first time he had hit his head...because he had obviously hit his head because he couldn’t remember the incident. “What’s the damage?”

“You have some electrical burns and bruising.”

“Not me, Thunderbird Two!”

His brother’s shoulders dropped and he sat back, rolling his eyes just a little. His brother radiated such a sense of relief. “Virg...” But there was a hitch in Scott’s voice. “Two is fine. A bit of strain to her superstructure, one wheel had to be replaced. Brains was concerned about her electrical systems, but he said it was mostly a replace and patch up job. He’s already repaired the dash.”

“The dash?!” What the hell happened?

“Hey, relax. She’s good. As far as we can tell it was a freak accident. A combination of lightning and a shielding failure. You hit the runway hard and an electrical arc took out you and half the dash.”

Virgil stared at his brother. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

Scott frowned at him, all humour gone. “Virgil, I don’t care about Two. I only care about you. It was...close. You scared us.”

Virgil blinked, the terror making a sudden return, swirling in the back of his mind. “What happened?”

Scott sighed. “You’re okay, just as much as your ‘bird. Grandma knows what she is doing.”

Another blink. “Grandma? Where is she?” He looked around the room as if expecting her to suddenly pop out of the shadows.

“She’s resting.”

Another thought hit him. “Gordon! Where’s Gordon?”

Scott frowned at him. “Gordon’s fine.”

“But the Landing...” He trailed off. His memory refused to supply the information he needed. There was something about Gordon. Gordon getting hurt.

“He wasn’t on Two. You were alone. You were coming back from Beijing. You were delayed with another rescue in the Phillipines and it messed up your flight plan proper. Gordon was fishing a boat full of whale watchers out of the drink in Tonga.”

Virgil just stared at him.

Scott’s frown deepened. “Gordon, travelled back under the edges of the cyclone. Made it back a couple of hours before you.” The hands on his shoulders squeezed gently. “Virg, what is it?”

“Why am I strapped down?” The fear was becoming a physical thing. His memory was blank, but something had happened. His neurons may not have recorded the information, but his body was on edge. Something other than falling out of the sky.

It hit him like a slap to the face as the facts all came together. The strain on Scott’s face, the fear in his own heart, the restraints, the memory loss... Quiet words echoing the terror welling inside. “What did I do?”

Scott’s stiffening gave it all away. The flicker of fear in his brother’s eyes that echoed Virgil’s own.

“Scott, what did I do?!”

“You were medicated. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Scott!” Why the hell didn’t he just tell him?

The door slipped open and a strawberry blond head poked through. “Virg! You’re awake!” Gordon bounded into the room, a grinning Alan following him in.

The aquanaut thumbed his comms. “John, he’s awake.”

The FAB at the other end of the line was curt, but a moment later his tall and lanky brother slipped in behind them.

Virgil stared, his aching head not quite able to keep up with the sudden change in audience.

Alan had his left arm in a sling. When had that happened? Again, his memory refused to supply the requested information. He resisted the urge to swear.

“Will someone please tell me what happened?” He was almost embarrassed by the desperate plea in his voice...almost.

All four brothers froze, three of them turning to Scott as if awaiting direction. Virgil looked from one to the other and back again. “Guys?!” He rattled the restraints like that guy out of Dicken’s ‘A Christmas Carol’ rattled his chains.

And immediately regretted it when Alan’s eyes latched onto them. The expression on his littlest brother’s face flashed worry.

“Allie?”

Alan startled and Virgil’s already thudding heart upped its pace another notch as clues began to slot together.

“Allie, how did you break your arm?” No, please, no.

“Virgil-“

“Scott!” He glared at his brother before turning back to Alan. “Are you okay?”

The worry on Alan’s face vanished and he shrugged as if the sling was nothing. “I’m cool. You’re the one we’re worried about.” He strode up to the end of Virgil’s bed and dumped himself on it. “Are you feeling better?”

There was so much hope in those blue eyes.

Virgil blinked. He really wished his head would stop hurting.

Enunciated very clearly. “Can someone please tell me what happened?” An unsteady breath as his eyes latched onto Alan again. “Did I hurt you?”

The restraints bit at his wrists as he clenched his fists.

Alan’s eyes darted to Virgil’s hands in echo of that earlier flash of emotion before his little brother threw up the same cheerful façade he did during rescues.

Virgil’s heart broke.

Alan reached out, a soft smile on his face as his fingers landed on Virgil’s leg, the bed covers relaying his little brother’s touch. “I’m good, Virg. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I hurt you.” The words scraped past his larynx as Virgil’s eyes latched onto the sling holding his little brother’s arm safe.

Alan waved it away. “Eh, you just proved a point. I need to spend some more time with Kayo.” He smiled just a little. “You know how to kick ass when you want to. Note taken. Don’t get in your way when you’re determined.” An impish grin. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I-“ He knew Alan meant well, but every word… he struggled against his restraints. He desperately wanted to reach out and hold his brother, reassure himself, provide comfort, but…his chains rattled.

It was Gordon who acted. “Hey, Virg, it’s okay.” A hand on his shoulder for just a moment before his aquanaut brother was fiddling with the strap holding down Virgil’s arm. “I can see that hug machine grinding gears.”

Scott was fiddling with the fastenings on Virgil’s other wrist.

“No, not the hug machine!” It was comical on Alan’s part as he flailed dramatically at the end of the bed, but it was in such contrast to the distress in Virgil’s heart…

Then his hands were free and he was reaching for his little brother. “Allie!”

Perhaps he feared rejection in Alan’s eyes, but as the young astronaut flew into his arms without hesitation, Virgil was overwhelmed with a mixture of gratitude and love.

“It’s okay, Virg. I promise.” It was muffled into his shoulder.

Virgil only squeezed tighter, his left arm pulling at whatever he had done to it. Blond strands fluttered as he breathed into his brother’s hair.

“Sorry.” Hoarse.

“Is okay.” One thin arm tightened around him even tighter and it squeezed moisture out of his eyes.

He clung to his little brother for a long moment, but questions still needed answers.

As Alan eventually pulled away, blue eyes looked up at him and smiled. As far as Alan was concerned, he was obviously forgiven.

But Virgil didn’t think he could ever forgive himself.

And he still didn’t know what had happened. His eyes skipped to Scott, then Gordon and finally John.

John.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed as they focussed on his space brother. “Tell me.”

“Virg-“ Scott placed a hand on his arm again.

Virgil shook it off and kept his eyes on John. “Tell me!”

Aquamarine gauged him, flickered to Scott and back. “You had an adverse reaction to medication. Grandma tried a new combination as you weren’t responding well to your usual dose. It worked. However, an unforeseen side effect was paranoia. You fled the infirmary in what appears to be an escape attempt from the Island and headed down to Thunderbird Two.” John’s eyes were kind. “Alan got in your way. He claims you picked him up with one hand and threw him across the room. Hence the broken arm.”

Virgil turned to stare at his little brother who shrugged. “You were right. You can pick me up with one hand.”

Fingers tightened on Virgil’s arm, but he was beyond identifying who they belonged to as he turned back to John. Quietly. “There’s more.” It wasn’t a question.

John tilted his head a little. “Then Scott got in your way. You were determined that he was an enemy. Either the Chaos Crew or the Hood himself, because you blamed him for Gordon’s injuries earlier in the year.”

“John.” Scott’s tone was sharp.

The space monitor turned to the commander. “He needs to know.”

Virgil couldn’t take his eyes off his tall, red-headed brother. Those aquamarine eyes turned back to him. “You attacked Scott. Gordon took you out with a tranquilliser gun.”

Virgil stared. A lump in his throat welled up. “Thank you, John.”

His brother’s lips curled up into the faintest of smiles and he nodded once, but didn’t say anything further.

Virgil turned to Scott. “Are you okay?”

Eyes were rolled at him for his efforts. “As if you could take me your best day, Virg. Are you kidding me?” All smirking confidence.

Virgil raked his brother with his gaze, almost wishing he could medically scan him with his eyeballs.

He turned back to John. “Is he okay?”

A disgusted sound from Scott almost obliterated John’s smiling words. “He’s fine. Maybe a few bruises. That’s all.”

“John!”

John turned to Scott. “You want to try and hide medical issues from Virgil? He’ll worry himself sick and then find out anyway. Best to be upfront. For everyone’s health.”

Scott grunted and glared. “I’ll remind you of that next time you complain I’ve set Virgil on you for not sleeping.”

“That’s different.”

“Different how? Eos claimed it was a good thirty-six hours last time and you were hallucinating coffee.”

“I am old enough to make my own decisions.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You can’t talk. You hid that bruised rib from him when you came back from San Fran two weeks ago.”

“John!”

“You’re lucky he punched you on the other side today.”

“John! For goodness sake!”

Virgil stared at both of them in shock as the ‘discussion’ blew up into a full-on argument over the bed. John stood with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed while Scott pointed fingers at him in punctuation.

Alan stared at the both of them, wide-eyed beside Virgil.

A nudge at Virgil’s other side snapped him out it.

“Both idiots, if you ask me.” Gordon was quietly grinning. He sat on the edge of the bed beside Virgil and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Can’t hide anything from you, anyway.”

A blink. The hug was weird and voluntary, but Virgil wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

However…

“You shot me.”

“Yep.” The grinning continued, but Gordon didn’t look at him, his eyes tracking the entertainment of space monitor versus commander as they bickered.

“Thank you.”

That did draw those amber brown eyes in his direction. “You’re welcome. Any time.”

Virgil’s left arm hurt and was stiff as hell, but he lifted it awkwardly and pulled his fish brother in as best he could. There was that odd compliance again as Gordon let him do it with no protest at all.

Gordon’s hair always smelled of chlorine. It was familiar and reassuring.

“You okay?”

That earned him a snort. “My only regret is I didn’t shoot you in the butt.”

“Gordon.”

His brother sobered a little. “Honest, Virg. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me and...” Those eyes, so like his own, fixed him where he sat. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Virgil didn’t have an answer to that so just pulled him in closer.

“Do it again and it’s the butt. I’m taking pictures.”

Virgil closed his eyes and just held on tight.

-o-o-o-

[edutainer2022]

I have part two in my, so technically it's a Wednesday WIP. Things take place some time after Hyperspeed. Scott is rather popular with all creatures large and nerds. Sometimes Earth has some insights to share about the Sky and celestial objects.

HELIOCENTRIC

He didn't look down from the sketchbook when a chestnut head hit his thigh as a lanky figure folded itself on the sand next to him, by the edge of the small palm grove. An exasperated grunt and an oomf followed. Virgil knew better than to ask. Partly because John had already clued him in, in broad strokes. Partly because he was engrossed in a particularly intricate shading. But mostly because if Scott had hunted him down on the beach, having barely parked Thunderbirds One after the trip to CERN, he would talk. Or maybe not. Either way, if Scott needed comfortable company and a friendly ear - Virgil was both. There was no need for extra prying. Not that time, anyway.

"Brains hates me!"

"No, he doesn't."

Virgil response was as automatic as it was nonchalant. It went without saying - Brains deeply appreciated and admired Scott. Just like all of them.

A powerful huff from the general vicinity of the ground ruffled the edge of the page. Virgil glanced down only to be faced with brilliant blue, welling with desperation. If he didn't abhor the idea of biggest brother in any sort of distress, he would find the whole situation highly amusing.

"Well, he's mad at me, at least! He was so eager to meet Tycho Reeves in person - IR was his moment to shine! Now he thinks I stole his thunder!"

The painful grimace that followed the diatribe was so full of misery, Virgil finally put away the sketchbook and reached to ruffle dark brown curls.

Dr. Tycho Reeves had professed undying friendship with one Scott Tracy after the Hyper-reel misadventure - and did so urbi et orbi. Definitely to the latter's equal befuddlement. From what Virgil gleaned out of John's quick heads up - the Tracy Industries visit to Dr. Reeve's lab in New Geneva earlier that day was met with excitement and enthusiasm that resulted in some significant damage to reasonably good china, a coffemaker, a suit that could bankroll the economy of a medium-size country, several holodiscs of cutting edge equipment blueprints, brought in for consult. And Brains' pride, apparently.

Virgil peered down again at his brother's face, still contorted by a frown. His other hand joined the task force and administered an obviously needed reassuring shoulder squeeze.

"So, you did the thing. Big deal! Brains won't hold a grudge!"

Confusion darkened the edges of the blue.

"The thing?"

"Your thing. The Scott thing. You are the gravity center of every gathering in every room you're ever in. Or a light source, more like!"

Virgil smiled at his own metaphor. He definitely liked that idea more.

"Yep, that's right! You're the sun, Scooter. We all orbit you."

If he hoped to lighten the mood and put biggest brother's mind at ease - that wasn't the achieved effect. Dark brows furrowed even more. Scott even lifted his head from the comfy, jeans clad cushion, and nearly yelled:

"That's not true!"

Virgil was beginning to feel entertained.

"Oh, yes it is! Everyone gets under the spell one way or another, Scoots. That's just the way it is!"

Virgil's large palm gave the now disheveled brunet head a pointed push back on its perch on the brother's thigh and added a soothing rake through the curls to boot. A quieter protest followed.

"I don't want that!"

Virgil hummed, fully amused now.

"Well, tough! You're just THAT awesome, brother."

The almost whisper that chased Virgil's cheeky comment switched him on high alert again. Trust Scotty to find ever more fault with himself.

"Dad was the sun. I'm not."

[I'm not him.]

He had a good hunch Scott would genuinely believe that, but it hurt just as well to see up close how little biggest brother thought of himself. Virgil gave it a pause, then made sure to catch the blue gaze, now deepened by ever ready rue.

"No. He wasn't. Dad was thunder and lightning. Mom was the light. Then you."

He stopped the depreciating shake of the head with a flex of his wrist, before it could gain momentum.

"You really don't get it, do you? You were Dad's light! You cheered him on and you supported his every endeavor, you stood by him and you made him believe he could do anything! Even after Mom. Even after TV-21. And you're ours! You let us flourish and you champion the best selves we could ever be!"

He had to gulp down what had to follow next - "and you gave up everything to burn yourself for us all!"

Bright wide-eyed blue, staring up at him, was brilliant with disbelief and barely contained tears. So Virgil didn't hesitate to shift operations into the territory he knew best how to navigate - with a tug on the sleeve he enveloped big brother into a tight hug.

TBC

[noattentionsstuff]

Hello!

Seeing as my favorite show of all time is Thunderbirds are go! But, before that it was the Octonauts! Could you try combining the two shows somehow?! Whether that's art or fiction, I don't mind.😁

I’m going to guess you ment crossover so here are some, I’ll draw more another time if I can come up with more ideas. Hope these are good though

[flyboytracy]

Heeeeey flyboy,

Did you ever make a gif of that moment at the end of ROF2 where everyone GASP IN HORROR reacts to Grandma’s nice family dinner suggestion (just before they all make excuses to leave)? If not… pleeeease would you have a look and see if the urge-to-gif arises?

(I tried it once ages back when I got mildly obsessed with the scene but it was appalling quality because I had no idea what I was doing… would be amazing to have a PROPER one living on tumblr to use in Situations where GASP is the appropriate reaction 😁)

💙

Hola :D The world always needs more GIFs from Ring of Fire

<333

[skeefee-sky]

'Resetting energy levels.'

@thunder-tober Day prompt: 12 - Energy Characters: Scott Tracy, Thunderbird One Word count: 557

This one was fun to write >w< Poor Scott xD Sometimes all it takes to replenish one’s energy, is a well-deserved power nap-!

💙🩶 TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB 🩶💙

Scott paced. Was he frustrated with her? No… He couldn’t be; not with her. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t his own fault either. He was on a drive, on a move to keep going. But without his Thunderbird… He looked up to where she’d rested by an outcropping, just able to fit under the rocky cliff. Her blue visor was dim. Her pilot knew she was tiring… He’d checked her fuel reserves, made sure they’d been topped out but, this was something else. Something from that shard… It had to be. Jumping down from the flat of rocks he’d been walking across, he jogged back over to his craft.

“So do we know there’s nothing I can get you? Something you can do? We can do even?” he inquired, absently pestering. They’d just completed a rescue, so he might have still ben high on adrenaline and was eager to get the next one. But of course, he had to help his ship first. “You’re not hurt, are you? I can do another scan-!”

“Captain.” Thunderbird One’s voice was clear, even in her seemingly exhausted state. She didn’t lift her head, visor flickering for a moment. She was quietly analysing the data that popped up, only half-understanding. Most of it was tied to the shard in her chest, and she tried her best to pick apart what she could make of that. Was she tired? She didn’t really know what exhaustion felt like, and usually a refuel had fixed any low energy she had before. But this was something different; something she couldn’t quite understand.

“I just, need a few minutes. I… can’t make sense of everything but, it’s going to take me a moment to figure out what's wrong.”

Scott took a step back, but gave a firm nod. Right… Still getting used to the sentience. Whatever she was doing, she’d need a minute to understand. No, he wasn’t frustrated.

“Just, let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he offered softly. The Thunderbird did slightly tilt her head at that.

“Comm John and let him know we might be just a little bit longer?”

He could do that. Thunderbird One laughed lightly when she noticed her pilot turn to do as asked, and went back to focusing on her data readouts. She tried matching the information to things she did understand – it did confirm she was exhausted, but it had to be something on top of that.

Her energy levels never got low out of the blue, and she’s never felt like this before. Machines didn’t get sick, not like humans did… Did MAX ever get sick…? She followed a pinging message, quietly settling offline as her systems followed that order. Scott turned back to her just in time to see her hand drop to her side, falling from where she’d held the side of her visor.

“One? You okay?” he asked, approaching her side curiously. The dimmed light of her visor and low hum from her systems was all he got in response. As he watched her, it was almost like a tiny lightbulb went off in his head, and he raised a hand to his comms with a soft chuckle. “Hey John, scratch that. You might want to redirect local authorities to this one.”

::Why Scott? What’s wrong?::

“My Thunderbird just fell asleep.”

[skymaiden32]

✨ Countdown to Christmas! 3 days to go! ✨

[edorazzi]

More Thunderbirds!

This time some doodles of my favourite OG Tracy, Mr Milkshake Pink Ken Doll (astronaut edition). So different from his redheaded, anxiety-ridden reboot counterpart and I love 'em both! 😘

[idontknowreallywhy]

A snippet of a little something…

“S-SCOTT C-C-CARPENTER TRACY!!!”

John later confirmed that this was indeed the first time in Tracy history that Brains ever been apoplectic enough to middle name any of them. His ire was usually quiet and dry, with occasional sarcasm. Every so often some non-vital but comfort-providing item might be removed from a Thunderbird for “essential maintenance”… the cushioning of One’s pilot seat, the power supply to Two’s coffee machine…

But generally, after more than a decade living with the Tracys, their long-suffering engineer had cultivated the talent of providing emotionally restrained feedback. Albeit there was good reason MAX was unable to mimic the phrases that were muttered over mangled landing gear, flooded engines, overstrained thrusters and the like.

This Wednesday morning, however, something had clearly pushed him over the edge.

“What did you doooo?” Alan hissed in alarm and was immediately shushed by a heavily frowning Virgil, whose fingers appeared unable to release the unfortunately tense chord he’d just leaned into. Even Gordon looked uncomfortable.

From the guilt-ridden look on Scott’s face, he could think of least three reasons his neck might be on the block this morning.

[hebuiltfive]

WIP Wednesday!!!

“But in theory…?”

“Anything is possible in theory, Scott.” Brains smiled, turning back to his datapad. “So long as you can m-make your theory work in p-practice.”

His deflated feeling only worsened when Brains made it clear that the conversation was over. Scott wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping to get out of that conversation. He hadn’t been serious to start with, though the thought had lingered in his mind long enough now for him to wish it were all possible.

The chance to start again, without making the same mistakes, was far too tempting this late at night.