#grandma Tracy
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pareidoliaonthemove · 23 days ago
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Virgil tried to work a finger into the collar that dug into the flesh of his neck. A sharp smack knocked his hand away, his own fingers slapping his jaw. “Ow!”
“Cut that out, kiddo.” Grandma was unrepentant, and started fussing with the collar, ensuring it sat to her satisfaction, before finally grasping the tie and reseating it firmly against his throat.
“Gah!” Virgil choked. “Can’t breathe, Grandma!”
“You can breathe fine, kid. I don’t know. You never used to complain when you had to dress up for piano recitals.”
A rasping sound had Virgil glaring at Scott. “Don’t you start. If you’d only listened when we told you to wait, you’d not have caught that cold, you wouldn’t have developed laryngitis, and I wouldn’t be here doing your job for you.”
Scott held up his hands defensively, before signing “Sorry”.
Virgil’s glare didn’t let up.
“I still don’t know why you couldn’t do it. We had enough recordings of you practising that you could have just lipsinced to it.”
“Because everytime Scott practised his speech, Gordon played his ‘subsonic’ sound effects in the next room. When they were played back, all you could hear was ghost noises, explosions and fart noises.” Kayo wasn’t even trying to pretend she wasn’t finding this amusing.
Virgil turned his attention to John. “And don’t you think for one second that the speed with which you ‘came down’ with the laryngitis isn’t suspicious. I don’t know what you've blackmailed Grandma with, but I will find out.”
Grandma sighed. “There’s no blackmail, Virgil dear. John just spends too much time in orbit, and his immune system isn’t up to spec.”
Virgil turned a dark look at John. “I am so revising your allowable flight hours,” he growled.
John shrugged and gave Virgil a look that was so clearly an ‘I dare you’ with promises of retribution that even Kayo stepped away from the line of fire.
The sound from the crowd hidden behind the curtain swelled to a roar, and Virgil paled and gulped.
“Why can’t you do it, Scott?” He asked, eyes a little wild. “You can sign and a translator can speak?”
Scott frowned. “We’ve been over this, Virgil,” he signed. “Just having a Tracy on stage isn’t enough, it needs to be a Tracy’s voice.”
Virgil’s shoulders fell. “Why can’t Grandma do it?”
“Wrong image, kiddo. This is about the future. Having some old fossil banging on about the future isn’t going to work.”
“You’re not old Grandma,” Virgil mumbled.
“You’re a good boy, Virgil. But yes I am, the hint is in the title: ‘Grandma’.” She tapped the underneath of his chin to lift his head. “I’m old enough to qualify for a new title: ‘Great-Grandma’.”
“Gordon wanted to do it,” Virgil was clutching at straws. “He even re-wrote the speech
”
John poked him sharply in the ribs, before signing, “He was going to announce the re-working of all aerospace and astrospace manufacturing facilities into marine engineering facilities. By this time tomorrow we’d be lucky to have the shirts on our backs!”
Scott pushed him back. “Gordon has a public profile that 
 isn’t compatible with this arena.” There was an apologetic expression on his face.
“It will be okay, Virgil. The teleprompter is there, just read off what it says. I’ll be right next to you there. We’re skipping the live Q&A in favour of a virtual one. The MC is making my apologies, and explaining the laryngitis. The stagelights are set to hide the audience. You won’t see them. Just go out there, and read what the teleprompter says.”
While Virgil was focused on Scott’s hands, Grandma had been rubbing soothing circles on Virgil’s back. And somewhere, amongst all that, without Virgil realising it, he was now standing on the edge of the stage, right by the curtain.
Virgil started as the huge yawning space between him and the podium stretched out into infinity. Somewhere, over the sound of the MCs slick professional patter setting out the agenda for the day he could hear the sounding of rustling, people moving, the occasional cough, the sound of breathing. Oh, god, he could hear them breathing. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t

A soft chime sounded in his discreet earpiece. “Thunderbird Two, standby.” It was EOS, and the use of the callsign had Virgil’s breathing evening out, and his spine straightening.
“Thunderbird Two, deploy.”
And with Scott leading the way, and acknowledging the audience, Virgil Tracy – Thunderbird Two – stepped onto the stage.
Notes:
Work has been eating both all my time, and apparently, all my brain. But I’ve finally got a piece written for Febuwhump!
The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)
I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.
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skymaiden32 · 2 months ago
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Happy New Year everyone!
Timelapse under read more:
(Time taken: Approx. 3-4 hrs)
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coco9728 · 2 months ago
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squiddokiddo · 3 months ago
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- Squiddo's Coffee Order Headcanons -
Scott: Straight up just 3 shots of espresso with sugar. He NEEDS the caffeine but is also fond of the strong flavour. In warmer weather he gets a cold brew with some vanilla foam.
Virgil: Loves a good latte or cappuccino, something soft, warm and comforting with alllll the extras, whip cream, syrup, chocolate sprinkles ect ect. He loves a good cup of coffee but it can't be just from anywhere, the taste of the beans really matters to him.
Alan: Doesn't really like the bitterness but he developed a taste for frappucinos and mochas when studying for his finals. They've got to have a shit ton of whip cream and syrup to cover the bitter taste.
Gordon: Tends to only get coffee in social situations or when he is absolutely exhausted. Will literally take any style of coffee, usually goes for something sweet, and doesn't like the brew to be too strong. Loves all the different varieties of syrups though, his favourites are hazelnut and (of course) butterscotch.
John: Likes espresso shots, lattes and flat whites. Like Virgil he's quite particular about his coffee and will only go to specific coffee shops and only tends to get coffee if he's doing uni lectures or writing up papers. Absolutely does not like his coffee cold, it's a bad texture to him.
Kayo: Cold brew. Just ice, water & coffee. No flavours, except when it's pumpkin spice season. Also likes iced matcha.
Grandma: Not a fan of coffee, prefers tea instead but likes the smell because it reminds her of her late husband who used to brew his own coffee at home.
Brains: Drinks coffee because he hates energy drinks, too sweet. He takes his coffee however it comes as long as it doesn't taste like burnt ditch water. He much prefers matcha though.
Penny: Can't stand the stuff, absolutely can't stand it. She much prefers a good ol' traditional cup of tea.
Parker: Used to drink coffee in his army days, refuses to drink it now because "Nothing can beat the proper stuff".
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gumnut-logic · 4 months ago
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“Honey, stop.”
“I can’t, Grandma.” Her grandson continued to shove supplies into his pack.
Sally reached out a hand and wrapped her fingers around a tense bicep. “Give your brothers time. Give Kayo time.”
Scott looked back at her before shoving the pack closed. “Time is the very thing we don’t have.” He strode out of the supplies room and into the hangars.
Thunderbird Two loomed above them as if to sink the situation into her heart even more.
But she had to stop him. “Scott, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”
He spun on specialised footwear, his uniform outlining his determination. “I know exactly what I’m getting into, Grandma. I’ve been there, done that, and now those bastards have Virgil. They can’t
it’s not happening. We’re getting him out now.” He turned on his heel, slung the bag of weaponry over his shoulder and strode off, his long legs determining the end of the conversation.
She stared after him for a moment before thumbing her collar. “John?”
“Grandma?”
“I can’t stop him.”
“Not unexpected. I have had no success with Gordon either. They are determined to go. Kayo has made landfall, but is still gathering data. The GDF are not responding. Eos is streaming detail to One as we speak.” Her orbit-bound grandson took a breath. “We will get him back, Grandma.”
Sally swallowed. She had no doubt her grandsons would do exactly as they intended.
But at what price?
Scott’s tense shoulders spoke volumes to her. She knew he would go to hell and back for Virgil. They all would. She just wished that hell wasn’t Bereznik.
-o-o-o-
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forest-falcon · 5 months ago
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The Butterfly Effect
Chptr 17
It's been a while since I've last updated this fic, but here it is - the next chapter of The Butterfly Effect. Hope you enjoy! And thanks for everyone's lovely support with this story. Hopefully it won't be as long before the next chapter is out đŸ€ž
No major tags for this one - minor angst, whump and a bit of family fluff thrown in!
đŸ’™đŸ’šđŸ§ĄđŸ’›đŸ’œđŸŠâ€đŸ”„đŸš’
John was torn. Torn between all those who needed him. Torn between duty and love. But, in the end, the choice was easy. His place was on the GDF carrier headed for Auckland, at the side of his brothers and Grandmother.
The post-mission clean up (if it could indeed be called that), the press, and the rest of the world waiting on them, would simply have to manage. God knows, he was having to.
Hauling himself aboard, he gently touched the painted name of the carrier, before finding a vacant seat next to Tam.
"Welcome aboard!" Colonel Casey greets, over the sounds of the engines, and flicking of buttons.
Val had been good to them. As soon as she had a functional comms line up and working, she'd taken the initiative to pull strings with a number of contacts. Phoenix would be allowed the time off from their regular civilian jobs back home to help with getting International Rescue back onto their feet, if they so wished.
It was a unanimous 'yes.'
"We're here for as long as you need us," her words held a warmth befitting her honorary Aunt status. She'd squeezed his shoulder, before brushing a stray lock of hair out of Scott's face.
"Thanks," John sighed, with a gratitude that somehow furthered his exhaustion.
Although it was in the world's best interest to see International Rescue functioning again, as swiftly as possible; it was good to know that people had their backs when the chips were down.
Val made her way to the front of the carrier and a flutter of garish Hawaiian fabric filled the seat.
Gordon peered over the eldest brother.
"Hey there, Bird Bath! How's the head?"
A groan, but Scott's eyes remained shut.
"Gords..."
"The one and only!"
Scott could hear his brother's Cheshire Cat grin.
"As your brother, I feel it's my duty to tell you that that landing was...*raspberry* stinko, awful...I've seen Rigby land better!" He gave a thumbs down.
"Ah, save it! Yours is the one Thunderbird that doesn't fly," Rigby deadpanned, from the cockpit.
"Make him stop," Scott's hoarse whisper is mainly levied at John, but entreats any and all who can hear him.
"Gladly. Just tell me how," John smirks, finally letting his shoulders drop a fraction.
"Ah, don't be like that... Hey, I know what'll cheer you both up!"
"No."
"A good ole sea shanty!" Gordon whips out his pocket device.
"Veto."
"Aww, really John? Not even, 'Leave her Johnny, leave her?'"
"Especially not that."
"Fine. I've got you..."
A moment passes as Gordon scrolls, then taps; and the hangar bursts into song.
"Eurovision!"
Virgil reopens his eyes to the sounds of...wait, is that Conchita Wurst?
Oh God, Gordon - Rise Like a Phoenix...really? Phoenix. This was definitely Gordon's taste in music - and humour.
Virgil doesn't remember being hover-stretchered to the hangar, but it's good to hear the voices of his family once more.
"Stop your fussing. I'm fine,"
"I'll be the judge of that Mrs. Tracy."
"Matthew Eric Jones!" Grandma starts.
"She middle named me! Did y'hear that Mac? She middle named me!"
"Oooh! Now you're in for it!" Gordon's chimes in, clearly enjoying his inflight entertainment.
"I was a doctor-"
"-And now you're my patient. So, unless you're going to sign an AMA form, you'll sit back nicely, and let me do my job."
"Oooh, I like him." Grandma's voice concedes. "Fine. But if they keep me in, you're bringing the treats! And none of this basket of grapes rubbish. I'm talking chocolate and brandy - neat."
"It's a hospital, Grandma." John's voice reasons.
"And?"
"And you should know - better than most, that they're not gonna let us bring that in for you."
Grandma goes to fold her arms, then winces, with a concealed hiss.
"John. Kid. I'm old! Just stick it in a sippy cup and call it apple juice - they'll never know the difference!"
"Stop tryna...get John...into trouble."
It's a wonderful sound, hearing the deep rumble of baritone. Sally can feel a secondary tightness - one she could not attribute to her injury, leave her broken ribcage.
"Eh. Twas worth a shot." She offers up a warm smile, knowing he cannot see it - both her eldest grandsons sporting large foam trauma blocks; but she hopes he can hear the sentiment within her voice.
"Nice to have you back in the land of the living, kid!"
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call-me-casual · 2 days ago
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Dumb idea that just came to me:
“Scott, come back quickly PLEASE, I don’t like this!”
The blue-tinted hologram rolled his eyes a few hundred miles away.
“Alan, it’s okay, Dad’s just coming off the anaesthetic, everyone acts a little funny when they’re coming off that stuff!”
Alan grit his teeth, hunching as he lowered his voice to whisper.
“I know that, I’ve seen you and Gordon. But this is just
”
The astronaut dared a glance back toward the desk that was their father’s favourite reclaimed perch. Its chair’s swivel function was often left unused, but today Jeff Tracy seemed determined to make up for lost time with it, just like every other thing on earth he could get his hands on. The man swung his legs to create momentum as the chair spun like a mini tornado, his head thrown all the way back as he belted with a voice no one knew he still had.
“STTEEEEEEEVVEEE’S GOING TO LONDOOONNNNNN!! SSSHAWWWWWNNN’S STUCK IN A SUITTTTT!”
Alan looked back at Scott. Scott at Alan. All Ol’ Mr Dimples could offer was a sheepish smile.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Thunderbird One out.”
“Nononono DON’T LEAVE ME!” Alan lunged at the hologram as it blinked out, landing on the rug with a thump. Mr Jeff off-tormenting-the-fairies Tracy didn't seem to notice.
“TOM SLEEPS ON HIS BEST FRIEND’S LAWWWWN, LIKE EVERY OTHER AF’ERNOOOOOOOON!”
“Alan, where are- oh, hey kid.” Gordon squelched his way in, the towel on his shoulders doing little to quell the torrent pouring down him.
The blond looked over to their not-so-musically-inclined father.
“What’s up with dad?”
“Dad’s high on-“
“Dad’s high?!”
Before Alan could retort-
“STEEEEVEEE’S GOOOOIN’ TO LONDOOONN! DAN PEEED IN THE POOOOOL!”
Gordon’s face was one of sheer terror.
“WHO PEED IN THE POOL-“
“No one! No one’s pissed in the pool!” Alan waved his hand, still on the floor. His natural habitat.
“TOOMM FELL FOR HIS BEST FRIEND’S MA-“
Jeff’s spinning, which had began to slow, was suddenly brought back to Mach ten as he belted the chorus,
“-BUT WHAT THE HELL YOU GONNA DOOOOOO?”
“Alright you buffoon, back to bed.” The tinies had never been more glad to watch as their Grandma stomp on over and snatch their father’s wrist. The chair rolled along as Jeff sat limply within it, a dejected “awww” leaving him.
Alan dropped his head back down, joining last night’s movie night crumbs (thanks Gordon) on the rug. He felt dizzy just watching that.
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cookidoughlilac · 1 month ago
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To this day, nothing makes me giggle like remembering how Alan tried to use the Runaway emergency an excuse to avoid homework, only for Grandma Tracy to shut it down with the classic "it's always an emergency, that's what we do"
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astranite · 9 months ago
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Headcanons of what biscuits each of the Tracies and everyone would like:
Alan first because we always seem to forget about him. He strikes me as a timtam enjoyer. He would definitely to the using them as a straw to drink milk through thing
Virgil would be resident mint slice lover
John to pennys disgust is an incorrigible dunker of biscuits in tea. She cannot reform him. Cause hes a mischief maker like the best he will do it in front of her while making eye contact while she resists the urge to tackle him as thats not polite. I think she has given in before. John is totally taunting her because it drives her up the wall. He misses it in space where free floating liquids are not a good idea. Hes yet to work out a scientific timing to let them get sufficiently soggy but not fall in but hes still trying to. He has been known to accidentally drop the biscuit in then fish it out with his fingers probably swearing. Then rapidly eat the soggy biscuit mess before anyone says anything before he goes back to pretending hes way too normal to do that.
Kayo. Jammy marshmallowy wagon wheels. No notes.
Penny’s secret vice is those pink ones iced ones with 100s and 1000s. Like the cheapest sugary ones. She will eat a whole packet if shes sad. They will without fail cheer her up. John has brought them for her and she cried all over him. She never had them growing up in endeds parades of fancy teas and biscuits. It was only when she was off at uni and knew john that she got to try them. John probably pulled them off a supermarket shelf and chucked them at her cause they were pink when they were grocery shopping for food together once and she decided to get them and loved them ever since. John doesn’t even like them but gets them for her.
I think Virgil would also like melting moments. He is unable to eat any sort of biscuit without getting covered in crumbs. He tries really hard but he has no idea how anyone else manages it.
Scott loved chocolate chip biscuits. But they have to be homemade. Secretly he hates those dry dusty store bought ones so much. He can bake them really well though but hardly finds the time.
Gordon. I dont know about actual biscuits but he definitely loves the crunch. Oh he would love those golden syrup and cornflakes or chocolate ricebubble crackles school bake sale treats so much
John for specifics id say shortbread creams. Ginger thins. He is a biscuit fiend in general and absolutely loves many of them. He also insists on calling them biscuits.
Grandma has tried to make anzac biscuits. They came out 
authentic. Historically authentic.
Kayo knows about her girlfriend's love of sugary pink biscuits. She found out somehow even though John is sworn to secrecy. Penny was over the moon when she brought them out for their quiet night in after their fancy, nice date was interrupted by work after dessert was quite ruined after being smashed over the bad guy's head.
Thoughts for Brains, Parker and others? Favourite biscuits you want to tell about? (i need to know) (for science) (also biscuit recommendations)
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pareidoliaonthemove · 2 months ago
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Alan: So about the song ‘12 Days of Christmas’
Alan: When it has the bit about how “Six Geese are laying Five Golden Rings”.
Alan: Is that, six geese are laying five golden rings each, or do five of the geese each lay a golden ring, and the last one is like, ‘damn, just another golden egg’?
Scott: 

John: 

Virgil: 

Gordon: 

Scott: Wow. Um. I never considered

John: I’ll look it up. There’s got to be a reference to it somewhere.
Grandma: 

Grandma: Anndddd, that’s enough eggnog for you boys.
Notes:
Conversations I have had with a six year old 
 (Send Eggnog!)
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skymaiden32 · 9 months ago
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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

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coco9728 · 2 months ago
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gumnut-logic · 8 months ago
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From here.
-o-o-o-
Scott bundled Virgil back inside and in the direction of his room. His engineer brother was quiet and it worried him a little. Virgil had been all over this project. Enthusiastic, literally bouncing like one of the two youngest on a sugar high. Perhaps it had only really hit home now exactly what they were giving up?
Virgil was the solid and dependable one, but he was also the sensitive one. It was odd that he hadn’t said anything earlier. Hadn’t reacted.
Scott sighed to himself.
It was understandable.
Far too understandable.
He shoved the ball of emotion to one side and straightened as Alan pushed past him in the hallway holding something to his chest. An angry Gordon tore after him as the youngest barrelled through the front door and out onto the circular drive.
“I’m going to kill, you Alan! You hear me?!”
The move was obviously affecting some more than others.
The wooden floor creaked as Scott strode the length of it. A familiar noise, one often sought in the middle of the night. It was a sound that relaxed him, knowing that Dad was finally home, no matter the hour. That his family was under one roof again.
Dad, of course, wasn’t home right now. He was on the Island finalising preparations for the family to join him. It was Grandma who was today’s marshal.
“John, please be a dear and drag your two youngest brothers back in by the ears and tell them to clean up this mess.” She gestured with a sigh at the pile of Lego scattered all over the kitchen.
John nodded and jogged out of the room and down the hallway.
Why the Lego was out and not packed away ready for transport was a question that had Scott pursing his lips.
There was a sudden squawk from beyond the front door that signalled their astronaut brother had found his first target.
“How is your brother?”
Scott startled and blinked. “Which one?”
Grandma’s lips twisted into a half smile as she shovelled Lego off the table and into a bucket. “The one you just chased out of the fields. Is Virgil homesick already?”
“No. No.” A sigh. “I think it has just finally sunk in as to what we are leaving here.” Scott picked up a piece of Lego and chucked it into the bucket. “And who.”
His grandmother caught his hand. “Scott?”
Okay, so perhaps it was contagious. Perhaps misery did love company, because yes, it did feel like they were leaving their mother behind. All his memories of her circled around this place. Her voice rang through the woodwork, her feet clattered down the stairs. He would say that the piano still sung with her music, but that had shipped last week leaving a gaping hole in the living room.
“She is with you, honey, you know that.” A small sad smile. “She won’t be left behind.”
“I know, Grandma.” His fingers scooped up a fist full of Lego.
It bit into his palm.
A shuffle of feet and Grandma tugged on the hand she had caught and pulled him close, one arm wrapping around him, while the other reached up and cupped his cheek. Voice soft. “Scott?” Startling blue eyes caught his.
“I’m okay. Just a little
sentimental.”
She tugged him a touch tighter. “She would love what you are doing in her name.”
The phrase echoed back at him, an almost duplicate of what he had said to Virgil.
So why was it harder to hear than to say?
“I know, Grandma. It’s just hard.”
She reached up and pulled him down a little, enough to peck a kiss on his cheek, before pulling him in tighter again. But she didn’t say anything further. Just held him.
And Scott was ever so grateful.
-o-o-o-
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forest-falcon · 6 months ago
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The Butterfly Effect
Chpr 3
❗Trigger Warning for angst/whump/cliffhanger
No blood or gore mentioned, but potential for major character(s) injury.
🧡💚💛💜💙
John swiped open a line to Tracy Island. He was greeted with a blue-washed image of Virgil and Gordon relaxing with hot buckets of coffee. Virgil didn't do cups when it came to caffeinated beverages.
"Hey John. What's the situation?" Gordon straightened, ready to act.
"No situation, as such. Just a social call."
"Ah nice! Well, grab a cuppa and join us!"
"As nice as that sounds, I'm still spinning plates up here. I was wondering if I could ask a small favour?"
"Shoot."
"I was wondering if one or both of you could check in on Scott for me, when he returns. He seemed...tired when we last spoke. Just want to check everything's okay."
"Sure thing. Virg! I believe this is your forte."
Gordon clapped Virgil on the back with such vigor, the bear's coffee slopped audibly over comms.
"Thanks. I'm sure it's nothing, but Scott taking his foot off the gas wouldn't hurt. Anyway, I'll leave you both to your drinks."
"What's left of it," Virgil grunted.
John's avatar blinked out.
Virgil tipped his head back and drained the dregs from his mug.
"Right, let's find out what's eating Scott."
"What's up with Scott?" Grandma materialized from nowhere.
"Idunno... tired, maybe?" Virgil shrugged.
"I'll get a batch of cookies on the go. Chats go better with a brew and biscuits!"
Virgil shuddered. She was right, for the most part.
* * *
Tracy Island was cresting on the horizon. One had already slowed to a less-nauseating speed, ready for Scott to regain control and begin her landing sequence. God, he wished she could land herself too. He felt...well, it was best he didn't focus on that.
The pool retracted.
Scott blinked hard as the dark abyss where the pool had been, continued to move - his vision proving to be as steady as a child's having stepped off a park roundabout. One wasn't helping. She was too damn sensitive. Her instruments flicking red-green, red-green, as he lined up the rocket and descended towards the pool.
Green-green, green-green.
Scott descended quickly, before a sensor had the chance to turn red again. His double-vision, making this his most nerve-wracking landing on record. Missions very much included.
Finally, One drew level with the villa.
Scott was ready.
Ready to touch down.
Ready for the impending lecture.
Ready for pain-relief.
Ready for bed.
Scott was not ready for One's rear stabilizing fins to clip the edge of the pool.
Tipping her nose cone off to the left.
Where it sliced down through the villa.
Black.
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darkestwolfx · 11 months ago
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WIP Wednesday comes around again
I cannot believe it's another Wednesday! So here's another work in progress teaser for you all Undecided price to whoever correctly guesses what is going on here 😉
‘Don’t you dare scare us like that!’ Gordon bawled. Technically, it wasn’t his fault. It was an unavoidable scare, but he didn’t have the energy to explain that to the tiny's. Dad could have that job when he reappeared from
 wherever it was he’d gone. That was still a foggy patch within his memory. ‘I won’t.’ He reassured. ‘We’d miss you.’ Alan sniffed, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. ‘I’d miss you too.’ He wrapped his arms around them as the two blondes cuddled close, one nestling into each side, and their small warmth and reassurance was enough to lull him back to sleep within the scratchy sheets.
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tracybirds · 1 year ago
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I love Christmas time, and I am writing allllll the fic for it :D Here be the start of the main thing I've been working on! Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for reading through! I hope you're all having a very happy end to your year with love and laughter and good cheer <3
[Day 1 - you are here] | [Day 2] | [Day 3]
Five Days Where Christmas Didn't Seem To Go As Planned
Day One
The villa had been in a state of disarray for weeks in the lead up to Christmas. Rescues didn’t stop for any holiday, and with half the world flocking to ski resorts and snowboarding towns, International Rescue had been kept busy.
Scott hardly minded though, not that now the Christmas decorations were finally up. He checked the date on his comm and smiled. With record time to enjoy it too, it would seem.
Festive streamers hung from the ceiling; red, white and green, matching the candy canes and other sweet treats Gordon had scattered around the room. Scott could even see a few tell-tale stripes of peppermint added to the Christmas tree that Kayo and Alan had chosen. Reportedly, they’d fussed and argued for over three hours over the height, the bushiness and finding that perfect shade of green.
Scott was only grateful that John had called him away moments before the family left the island to make the big decision.
Tinsel and matching ornaments hung on its branches, that Virgil had arranged and rearranged by until the perfect balance between eye-catching sparkle and soft greenery had been found.
Along the walls were Brains and John’s contribution; flickering holograms of stars, trees, bursts of holly, reindeer – a projection of a perfect Christmas scene straight out of a storybook. Scott couldn’t help but grin to see a new style of hologram had joined them. It was EOS’s first attempt and although clumsy in comparison, the geometric patterns she’d coded and brought to life held a joy of her very own.
Central to the design were the Christmas stockings, neatly attached to the fire well. Even Lady Penelope and Parker had one, ready and waiting for Christmas morning when they would join the family.
The decorations brought a warm glow that enveloped the villa, and Scott stepped back, surveying the living room with a critical eye.
“It looks great, Scott,” said Jeff, looking almost as pleased as Scott felt. “Much nicer than the chicken scratch I had to make do with out there.”
Scott felt his smile grow fixed, the air catching in his lungs at Jeff’s offhand mention of his long ordeal in space. For the first few months, no-one had dared reference the Oort Cloud at all, tiptoeing around the subject until Jeff had put his foot down. Despite the nonchalance, Scott had noticed his father was reluctant to speak of the place directly and he couldn’t help but imagine the endless dark that had accompanied Jeff.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, forcing himself to speak. “I... well, thanks.”
Jeff looked at him closely.
“You did a good job,” he said slowly. “You’ve done a good job
”
He trailed off, as he often did nowadays, his eyes sliding off Scott and far away. Scott followed his gaze to the window, out beyond the watery pool lights and into the night.
Jeff shook himself slightly, his eyes refocused on the room in front of him again. “Sorry, Scott, got lost in my own head again,” he said. His brusque tone dismissed any attempt of concern, but did nothing to ease the turbulence in Scott’s own mind.
Jeff turned abruptly, and began to stride out of the room. He paused only once, his fingers resting lightly on the string of Christmas lights near the door.
“Do you remember those lights from when you were small? How strange that even Christmas lights are completely different.”
Then he left before Scott could say a word.
Scott gaped, his mind racing.
It seemed no matter how fast he turned things over in his mind, it wasn’t enough, his thoughts kept getting swallowed by the inky black that nearly swallowed him if it hadn’t been for his dad, and no-one was there to catch his dad for all those eight years, but Scott could do this now for him.
He didn’t really remember putting through the call to John but something must have convinced him because a few short minutes later he was flying over the Pacific.
The trip to the ranch and back went smoothly, and an hour later, Scott held his prize in his hands. He lugged the old box back up to the living room, smiling at the imperfect crafts that had served as their family Christmas decorations of yesteryear.
The pine cones dipped in silver and gold he placed in a bowl in the centre of the coffee table, the reindeer made of clothes pegs he propped up around them. There were paper snowflakes and popcorn kernels in a jar with some needles and thread, there was colourful card for the annual paper chain competition, there were woollen ornaments that Scott could remember his mother making with her friends on the cold, dark winter nights when Jeff was travelling to a new world. There was even an old Advent calendar in the shape of a tree that their Grandpa had made, numbers carved by hand into each wooden box.
And right at the bottom, wrapped up in a neat coil were the Christmas lights they’d hung over the fireplace.
A whiff of stale cinnamon and pine floated from the box and Scott staggered slightly, for a moment six years old on the other side of the globe. The lights were soft and warm, the long bulbs twisting over each other and twinkling brightly in the night. The long December nights were no more, not in this part of the world, but Scott still remembered how endless it felt, how the sharp, cold of daytime was never enough to push back the darkness.
It was nothing next to the endless nothing of the universe, but the Christmas lights had helped, and Scott knew that they’d help now. He found an old extension cord, scrabbling behind the sofas for the nearest power point and plugged them in.
Nothing happened.
Scott’s face fell.
Of course, the box had been jostled so often over the years, of course one of the bulbs had fallen out of alignment.
He sat down with a sigh, his back against his father’s desk, and began to check for loose bulbs.
“Now those, I haven’t seen in a long while,” said Grandma Tracy quietly, and Scott jumped. 
“Grandma!”
“Oh hush, you’re halfway under Jeff’s desk. I can’t help sneaking up if you’re the one hiding.”
“I’m not hiding,” said Scott defensively.
“Then what are you doing, kid? And where’d you find these old things anyway?”
“At the ranch.”
Grandma Tracy paused for a moment, then slid to the ground next to him. Without a word, she untangled the other end of the coil and began to methodically check the lights with him.
“You’d better hope that’s all it is, a loose bulb,” she said. “If one’s blown, I’m not sure they make this kind anymore. It’s all LEDs and the like these days.”
“We’d make it work. Brains could solder the ends of something.”
“Hmm,” was all she said.
Together they worked in silence, one step closer with every twist.
“What made you go and get these, Scott?”
He shrugged. “Dad liked the decorations.”
“He didn’t like the new ones?”
“No, no he said it looked good.”
“He liked what you had, so you had to race off to get the old ones? We all noticed One dashing off, and you’re saying it was just for these old things? Tell me why that doesn’t add up, kid.”
Scott flushed. “There wasn’t any reason, I just wondered if we had more lights.”
“That’s a reason. Why’d you think we need more lights?”
His hands stilled.
“Dad mentioned the Oort,” he said, bracing himself for her response.
Grandma Tracy looked at him, her eyes searching for something in his expression. Scott didn’t know what, indeed hardly recognised the flash that was less than fear and more than mere concern that shot through him when he remember those long dark years without their Dad.
“I see,” she said. “Did he say anything else?”
She was cautious now, not willing to initiate discussion on anything his dad might have kept confidential, and Scott understood that, he did, he did, and yet

“He won’t talk to me about it,” he said, the words dull in his mouth. “He doesn’t trust me, I know that.”
Grandma Tracy clucked her tongue and reached out to gently smack him. “Get that thought right out of your head, Scott Tracy. Your father’s done his best to keep that boundary in place for a reason. He’s not fool enough to rely on you for this, not after what happened when your mother died.”
Scott ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the lights that ran through his fingertips. He felt just as helpless as he did all those years ago, that first, long Christmas without their Dad.
“I just wanted to push the dark away. I keep imagining it, all those years without the sun
”
He broke off with a shudder, wrapping his arms around him tightly.
Grandma Tracy tugged him close, rubbing soothing circles as she held him.
“Now, Scott, don’t go inventing trouble when you’ve already got plenty of your own,” she said softly. “You’re going to have to trust me, and your father for that matter. We’ve got things handled.”
“But,” he began, but she shook her head.
“No ‘buts’, this one isn’t on you, kiddo. Your only job is to enjoy that we got our own Christmas miracle this year. He’s home, and he’s not going anywhere for a long while yet.”
Scott let out a slow, even breath. His hands uncurled, and he reached once more for the Christmas lights.
“He’s really here, isn’t he?” he asked, eyes on the bulbs.
Suddenly, the whole string lit up, red and yellow and blue and green, glowing orbs that trembled as he lifted the lights with a smile.
Grandma Tracy gripped his shoulder tightly, her eyes shining in the dancing light.
“He really is.”
[Continue to Day Two]
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