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fallenfurther · 4 years ago

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TAG Minibang 2021

I had the pleasure of being partnered with @godsliltippy for the @tagminibang.

Click here to see @godsliltippy's amazing picture which goes with this fic, in which Scott and Gordon spend some time together on Thunderbird Four. I had great fun putting these two in a confined space and I hope you enjoy what came about. Enjoy!

The Refresher

Scott slipped the box of food rations into the compartment next to a large unopened box of celery crunch bars. He rolled his eyes knowing there were more scattered throughout the craft. He wondered how many of the fresh supplies his brother would consume with his favourite alternative present. Virgil had expressed concern on more than one occasion about Gordon's diet on extended underwater expeditions, but Scott tried not to pry too much. The aquanaut never seemed to suffer any ill effects. The man in question strode into the submarine with a grin and air of authority, tapping the button to close the airlock without a backwards glance. The mechanism clicking into place, sealing them in.

"Ready to learn the ropes?" Gordon cheered, eagerly rubbing his gloved hands together.

"It's a refresher course with a small mapping expedition for the Environmental Agency added on."

"Trust me Scott, this baby is nothing like Thunderbird One. She handles better, is calmer and still nippy when required. I'll be taking her out first, I want to get her there on schedule and in one piece."

Scott sighed, wanting to quip back about how he was the one who always brought her back in pieces, but knew it was still too raw for his brother. Shutting the compartment, with a little more force than necessary, he followed Gordon into the cockpit and sat in the temporary seat behind the man. His eyes scanned the area and he was pleased to see no wrappers on the floor. Kayo had warned them about the mess after her last excursion in Thunderbird Four, however they were all aware of what Gordon was like. It was nice to see he had tidied up beforehand, so at least Scott would only have to deal with fresh mess. The aquanaut started running through the prelaunch checks, and Scott ticked each one off his mental checklist. The submarine jolted as the mechanism started to lower them into the water tank and the exit hatch came into view. The lock disengaged, the doors opened before them as the submarine's engines started to rumble behind them. The vibrations grew as the pitch changed and the machine propelled itself forward.

"Thunderbird Four is go!"

"FAB," John responded, "try not to kill him, Scott."

Scott grinned while Gordon feigned hurt, a hand leaving the controls to cover his heart. It was a running family joke, all of them having been cooped up with Gordon at some point. Although Alan swore blind their trip to Europa was the worst, but at least Thunderbird Three was large enough to have some mild privacy and space. Everything was pokey on Thunderbird Four, particularly the toilet. It thankfully had a privacy screen but there was barely enough room to stand up, let alone unzip their uniforms. It probably explained why John had been graced with Gordon's bottom on his last refresher. Why use a screen when you're the only one on board, was Gordon's response. When John had pointed out his own presence Gordon had said he was making John feel more at home by showing him the moon. John did report that Gordon had used the screen for the rest of their trip. Scott hoped he would be spared the same treatment. Sitting back, Scott observed his brother at the controls as they entered the open ocean. The sonar gently flashed to Gordon's left, relaying occasional glimpses of hazards and giving a reasonably detailed map of the sea bed. The little yellow arrow that indicated their craft stayed steady on the red line of the plotted course. It crossed Scott's mind that they would have been at their destination by now had they been on Thunderbird One. Rolling his shoulders, Scott sat back, stretched his feet out before him and tried to relax. It was going to be a long first day.

The morning was interspersed with sporadic bouts of chatter from Gordon. Scott smiled as he listened, making the right noises and offering his opinions when required. He didn't share his brother's enthusiasm for the sea, but had great respect for his knowledge and experience as Gordon identified the various creatures which passed the craft. With one of Four's tablets in his lap, Scott inputted the sightings into the database alongside the GPS coordinates, ready to be submitted after the trip was complete. There was no need to report them straight away and to do so would give away Thunderbird Four's position and possibly bring unwanted attention. John and EOS monitored many websites where enthusiasts shared their Thunderbird sightings, marking possible hot spots on maps and predicting flight paths. Apparently there had been many meetups, a few of which had successfully predicted a Thunderbird sighting. EOS was certain it was coincidental, but precautions were taken after a holidaying oceanographer tracked Thunderbird Four down using Gordon's data. International Rescue promptly stopped submitting data, instead switching between five umbrella accounts. This trip's data was being submitted by Dippy, the personal deep water submarine of Doctor R Yang. Scott hadn't been too impressed with Gordon's suggestion of Doctor Angry, but EOS had suggested Doctor R Yang as a suitable plausible alternative and assured him that would be unlikely to be questioned. Gordon also managed to wrangle a sea themed one as well, much to Scott's displeasure.

Scott retrieved lunch, eating his first before taking the helm. His hand slipped into the holds, his body shifting at the unfamiliarity of the position. Pulling on the controls the machine continued on. Scott's eyes were glued to the sonar, adjusting the propulsion when the craft deviated from course.

"Relax, Scott. You're making it harder on yourself. Small subtle adjustments is all you need." Gordon butted in after the seventh course correction in the ten minutes Scott had been piloting. "There are no flight paths to worry about. A little deviation from the line isn't going to hurt and EOS will even autocorrect it if you stray too far."

Scott loosened his grip on the controls, allowing the blood to run back into his white knuckles. His shoulders slumped. Why was it so different to pilot Thunderbird Four when on a rescue? He swore it was never this hard, or maybe he just never noticed how tense he was or the small things he was doing wrong. The memory of Gordon instructing him from Tracy Island when retrieving the escape pod came to mind. Taking a deep breath, Scott twisted the controls, taking a large arch to get back on course.

"I know you fly Thunderbird One blind, but you should be able to look up and out the window while steering Thunderbird Four. You'll be surprised by what you can see, especially on a leisure journey like this."

"This is a training exercise."

"Exactly, it's for practicing. There's no rush. We have time to get you feeling relaxed at the helm, to let you learn the way she feels and responds."

Scott sat back, making the most of the ergonomic seat, knowing that Gordon was right. Knowing he'd said the same thing when he'd been refreshing Gordon on Thunderbird One. Despite his carefree joking nature, Gordon knew when to be serious and he had tensed up at the controls of Thunderbird One. Virgil had pointed out later that night that just Scott's presence watching would have put Gordon off. Much like Alan tried to please, putting in his all to prove his worth, there were still times when Gordon wanted to impress his older brother and not let him down. Thankfully, a few hours in the sky, and some practice launching and descending had Gordon handling Thunderbird One with ease. Pride had filled Scott, seeing how well Gordon had recovered from his injuries and how easily he slipped back into International Rescue. His younger brother had a unique way of bouncing back and his resilience made him seem indestructible.

Scott flicked his attention back to the here and now. His hands still grasped the controls a little too firmly, but he started flicking his eyes between the projection and water around them. To his untrained eye, the lamps barely illuminated anything and there was nothing to see. Gordon however seemed to spot things he couldn't. By the end of the journey, Scott's arms were aching from the consistent outstretched position and was thankful when Gordon took over. Rolling his shoulders and stretching out his arms, he took the seat behind Gordon. In Thunderbird One there was no need for stamina as she was never in flight for long. Clicking his shoulder brought some relief.

"You'll get used to it," Gordon responded to the sound.

Scott rolled his eyes knowing too well he would never be in Thunderbird Four long enough to become used to it. It was one long training dive a year, with day refreshers as and when required. Gordon guided the craft towards the surface. Finally Scott could see clearly through the glass. Before them was a vast coastline that contained various caves that required remapping. They were a long way from the nearest city, though the nearest settlement wasn't much closer. Gordon guided the submarine along until they came to the buoy which marked the entrance to the caves. Submerging again, Gordon spiralled them around the buoy's line until they were fifteen meters down before clamping onto the metal cable. A light flashed green.

"All secure. Let's grab some grub before turning in. I know it's early but I know you barely slept thanks to that rescue."

Scott was about to complain when he yawned. Gordon was right, he had barely slept the night before, having run around after the rescue getting everything ready for this trip. Scott followed his brother out the back, ducking through the hatch.

"I bet times like these you wished Thunderbird Four was as spacious as Stingray."

Scott chanced the conversation. Since the hydrofoil accident Gordon had been less forthcoming with details about his time in WASP. It had bonded them at first, Scott's military service giving him an understanding about what Gordon was going through, with his younger brother messaging him for advice on occasion. It frizzled out towards the end as they both got busy, something Scott regretted. Gordon paused, but gave his brother a grin as he grabbed two ration packs from the box Scott had brought.

"Nah. Sure, you get your own room, but you also have to deal with Troy. I was right next to his room and his late night visitors weren't always quiet. I miss relaxing with the guys though. Marina and Phones were a blast. We had some good times together."

Scott only just caught the packet thrown his way, catching it by the edge between two fingers. Gordon chuckled as he headed to the hot water dispenser.

"I gotta keep you on your toes."

Scott followed the aquanaut, rubbing his hand through his brother's hair as he moved out the way.

"Hey!" Gordon squawked, cradling his food as he attempted to duck.

Scott ignored the complaint, filling his own pack and noting he'd been thrown beef bourguignon, mash and peas. He already knew Gordon would have Mac and Cheese without looking. Scott had deliberately only brought one along as well as removing the can of squirty cheese from its hiding place. There was only so much Scott could tolerate in a confined space and they were set to be down here a while. They sat in two of the rescue seats and ate off their laps. There was no need for formalities when living in confined quarters.

"This always reminds me of survival training. Eating out of packets perched on a rock or stump, though I'm glad Brains makes them taste better. We were always told that they are called survival rations, not gourmet food-to-go."

Gordon nodded, chewing his current mouthful. A smile crossed his face.

"I lost a bet with Troy during my …. second week on Stingray. He made me eat survival rations for a day. I didn't know they came in different flavours as he only gave me one choice; beef stew. Tasted like cardboard. I got him back though."

"Sounds familiar," Scott chuckled, scraping out the last of his meal. He threw the packet in the trash and grabbed the bag of cookies he'd stowed away. His brother's eyes lit up. Scott ripped it open and deposited two into his awaiting hand before taking two himself. He sealed them up and tucked them away, knowing they'd probably be gone by tomorrow night. He retrieved two hammocks and blankets from one of the underfloor storage holds and handed one of each to Gordon. Unravelling the strong yellow material, he clipped it to the holds in the ceiling before grabbing his wash bag and heading to the sink. He watched as Gordon sorted out his own hammock before joining Scott at the small sink. It was a little cramped, the two of them leaning down to make sure they actually spat into the bowl, but it worked. With no need to change clothes, being in such a small submarine required them to be ready for a leak at any point, so Scott climbed into his bed for the night. It took him a moment to get comfortable, his body not used to the feeling of being cradled by fabric. Beside him Gordon had hopped into his and was swinging gently.

"Like the sailors of old, we sleep in our hammocks and are rocked to sleep by the sea."

There was a crunch and Scott sighed. He had no idea where it had come from but it didn't matter. Brains had found celery crunch bars all over the craft during maintenance.

"Keep it to one. I don't want to be woken by you crunching throughout the night."

"Spoil sport," Gordon grumbled, before peeking over the yellow material at Scott with a grin. "Fancy a sea shanty?"

Scott groaned, hands grasping his head, as laughter filled the submarine. The main lights were turned off as Gordon started singing, a small light on his side of the submarine casting him in an eerie green glow. It was going to be a long week.

********

"Okay, we need to head down the left tunnel."

Gordon watched as Scott turned the controls. His brother was coping well considering Scott wasn't the most patient person and was used to making larger, brasher movements. His brother did have laser focus though, eyes glued to the sonar where a small version on the submarine was actively being projected in real time. Gordon has given up telling Scott to not rely on it solely, old habits dying hard. Granted, it was day three of their trip and they had just entered the deeper, smaller caverns having mapped the larger ones yesterday. The muscles beneath Scott's uniform were a mass of stiff tense knots as the man guided the machine around a tight bend. The caves weren't particularly small by his standards but for someone unused to the kind of manipulation required to transverse them, they were constricting. Brains had already mentioned to Gordon that he had plenty of fresh paint ready for when they got back. He had laughed at the engineer's lack of confidence, but had been grateful all the same. There were already a few spots on Thunderbird Four that needed a touch up, and by the way Scott was turning the craft, there was about to be another.

Gordon sat back, trying not to say anything and let his brother learn. He watched his brother make a small adjustment, a little overzealous increase in the starboard turbine impeller which tipped her nose a little too far to the left, making contact with rock inevitable. The submarine edged forward. Scott realised what was happening and tried to correct it. The nose rose away from the rock wall and towards the center of the tunnel. Gordon could see the tension in the man's jaw increase, which he didn’t think was possible. Just as Scott thought he'd saved it, there was the tell-tale clunk of rock hitting metal near the back of the craft and a thankfully short screech as it scratched the hull. Scott growled in frustration, twisting the controls and setting Thunderbird Four onto a straight course through the tunnel while turning off the engine. Instead he let the craft drift and put his head in his hands. Gordon gave his brother time, watching the man’s fingers twist and scrape their way through normally neat styled hair. Gordon reached out and placed a hand on Scott's shoulder.

"You're getting there. These aren't easy tunnels and they are unknown to you."

"I …" Scott's hand slipped down his face, "I should be able to do this. I'm sorry I've scratched her."

Gordon swallowed. Scott rarely showed vulnerability, and especially not to him. Despite having Dad back, his brother still shouldered too much, and this just showed how close to breaking point he had been. Maybe Scott needed this time away more than he'd like to admit.

"Scratches can be buffed out and painted over," Gordon spoke softly as he knelt beside his brother, "I've given her a fair few over the years."

Scott's hair was poking out of fists now and all Gordon could do was wrap his arms around the man and be there. He rested his chin against tense muscles and gazed into the corner of the cockpit. His eyes started picking out small details, like a smudge of oil at the bottom of the wall where Virgil had touched it during the last biannual maintenance. His brother often helped Brains if he was free and it had been quiet on the rescue front, and Brains wouldn't have let his hands get so dirty. There was a sliver of a celery crunch bar wrapper poking out from around the edge of the small storage compartment which also held a first aid kit. He could spot the grime he'd missed in the clean he'd done. Gordon felt the rise and fall of Scott's shoulders as he shifted his head so he could glimpse the sonar out the corner of his eye. They were still suspended in the middle of the tunnel, Thunderbird Four's buoyancy keeping her from sinking to the rocky floor. Gordon had no idea how long they were like that, and didn't care to know, but Scott finally took a deep breath and straightened up. There was a steely look in his eyes and a new resolve in the way he grasped the controls. Gordon sat back as Thunderbird Four's turbines started turning again.

"I'm only going to improve by keeping at it." There was conviction in the man voice, "I'll set some time aside on Tuesday to buff out all the scratches "

"I'm sure Brains will be happy to do it."

Scott opened and closed his mouth. They both knew Brains would be quicker and more efficient than Scott, who rarely had to buff anything out of Thunderbird One. The cockpit was silent as Scott concentrated, slowly making his way along the tunnels. Gordon gave the odd directional instruction, trying to leave the man to it. There had been a few more swear words during Scott's attempt to turn around at a dead end, having added a few more small scratches to the paintwork. He gradually became faster as his confidence slowly grew as they headed deeper into the system.

"Should we think about turning around?"

Gordon grabbed the tablet and compared their current section to the thirty two year old map produced on the last official excursion. There was only one more tunnel off of this section and he agreed they could probably call it a day. Scott was in need of some time away from the controls.

*******

Scott stretched as he vacated the seat and handed it over to Gordon. He had to bend to stretch his arms out completely, but he did so with a yawn. His body was stiff from being in the same position for so long. Without any guilt he left Gordon to turn the submarine around and headed out back to grab some water. He filled up his standard issue water bottle, a blue iR embossed metal canister, from the tap and greedily gulped half of it. After refilling it, he also filled Gordon's and headed back. As much as he wanted to lie down and try and ease the tension from his muscles, he didn't want to leave Gordon alone. His brother thrived with company, often resorting to telling jokes over the comm when he was alone. Scott placed the canister in its slot on the main seat before sitting down.

Gordon had pulled up the quickest route out the cavern system and had started to leave the tunnel Scott had just finished scanning. As they reached the main tunnel Thunderbird Four's pace increased, it was still slow for the craft but a fair bit faster than Scott had been comfortable to go when he was in control. Gordon didn't bat an eyelid, eyes focused on the rock that passed by the window. His brother's hands gripped the controls in a firm but relaxed manner, his movements were smooth, subtle and the submarine reacted similarly. She glided through the tunnels like she'd been traversing them for years, though Scott knew she hadn't. Gordon was confident at the helm, taking tight turns at speeds that worried Scott to the point he sat back in his seat and held on. It felt strange to be a lover of speed, getting a thrill from being forced back into his seat, yet being uncomfortable that they were going so fast while going so slow.

Thunderbird Four smoothly rounded a junction where Scott had scratched her, her frame tilting with the angle of the turn. Scott was mesmerized by his brother's faultless handling. Glancing at the map, Scott saw the dip coming up which narrowed considerably afterwards. Gordon wasn't perturbed, gliding into the dip and pulling her up with pace. The rock below was clearly visible in the light and the odd protrusion came so close Scott swore they would brush against it. They didn't. Thankfully Gordon reduced his speed as the tunnel narrowed, but at no point did worry or concern cross the man's face. He glided the Thunderbird through the tunnels as if it had been designed solely for the purpose. It had taken them the best part of seven hours to get to the point they had, granted they, he, had been taking it slow due to the nature of their task, however a mere forty minutes of skilled piloting later and they burst into the open ocean once again. Relief filled Scott who hadn't realised how much the close confines of the caves had been affecting him. Gordon took them up to the surface and bright sunlight burst through forcing Scott to cover his eyes.

"Thought we deserved a bit of fresh air."

Gordon gave Scott a cheeky grin as he started putting the submarine in standby. The waves sparkled as they lapped at the hull. Gordon activated the seat allowing him to do some acrobatics to get into the main compartment. Scott rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and followed him. Gordon opened up one of the compartments and started rummaging. Scott leant against the other side, crossed his arms and took in his brother. A proud smile spread across his face. They each had their own set of skills and he had just witnessed what a competent aquanaut could do. WASP must have been gutted when he hadn't returned after his recovery. Even if they didn't let him on Stingray, Gordon's skills would have still been a great addition to the force. Instead, he'd joined his brothers in their Dad's legacy, becoming their only aquanaut. Scott was proud of all his brothers but it was moments like this, when they unintentionally showed off how amazing they were, that made their sacrifices worth it.

Gordon turned around with an armful of snacks and fizzy drinks, and Scott couldn't help but laugh. His brother sauntered to the airlock and Scott hurried to open it, picking up the treat that had fallen to the floor. The fresh crisp sea air wafted in and Scott's lungs breathed deeply. There was land to their left and open water to their right. Gordon plonked himself down and dropped his legs into the water. Scott sat beside him, crossing his legs not wanting to spend the next few days with salt stuck to them. He playfully slapped Gordon on the head with the celery crunch bar he'd dropped before swapping it with a bottle of cola.

********

"Okay, with this next turn you have to glide in pointing towards the corner then pulling round as the front gets to the bend."

Scott set his eyes on the corner, trying to visualise the curve Gordon wanted him to take. After yesterday's disaster Scott was determined to reduce the amount of scratches Brains was going to need to buff out, and had swallowed his pride. There had been no jeering from his brother, instead just a nod. Under Gordon's clear guidance Scott had only given the submarine a minor scratch and he was starting to feel a little less stressed about how close the cavern walls were. Scott did as Gordon instructed, still going at a much slower pace than his brother would, and managed to clear the corner in a smooth motion with inches to spare. Scott was already scouting out the route ahead, eyes spending more time peering out the window than glued to the sonar, when John popped up in front of him.

"Sorry to interrupt your training trip, but we have a situation that requires Thunderbird Four."

Scott was up and out the chair in a flash. The pair swapped places as Gordon switched to the old map. Hands on the controls they started heading to a suitable turning point.

"Have Thunderbird Two ready outside for a pick up."

Scott grabbed the tablet from its holder. It lit up immediately as John sent the rescue details to the craft.

"Thunderbird Two is currently attached to a container ship in an attempt to stop its contents from spilling into the sea. Alan is in a submarine pod, but it just doesn't have enough power to keep the ship from sinking. It's only forty minutes from your current location. Thunderbird Two should just about be able to hold it until then."

"FAB, John."

Scott surveyed the map as Gordon weaved his way out the cave system with the same agility as yesterday, but with a little more haste. Once out, Scott flicked the route onto the aquanaut’s screen, who responded by hitting the throttle with enough force to push Scott back in his seat.

"I can make it in thirty five easily," Gordon gloated.

Scott nodded, eyes skimming over Thunderbird Two's statistics before opening up John's scans of the situation and the 'dash cam' of the green giant. The ship was tilted at an immense angle, but was currently stable, even as its cargo seemed on the verge of toppling. The cause for the problem wasn't obvious but that wasn't of concern right now. A small lifeboat was slowly leaving the vicinity of the vessel, which was a relief. With no life signs onboard they could resort to an abort if the risks were too high. They were primarily a rescue organisation, but in this case it would be detrimental to the environment if they let the cargo fall. If Thunderbird Four could stabilise it enough to allow Alan to get inflator bags attached then they could right it for long enough so the ship could get to the nearest port. The coastguard would sort that out with the help of the original crew.

Scott was relieved as they approached. Thunderbird Four was speedy for an underwater vessel, making the journey in thirty four minutes, but he was used to much, much faster speeds. Gordon slowed on the approach and headed immediately to the yellow blob that was the submarine pod. Alan gave a wave as he passed by. The craft's arms were extended and placed against the metal above the pod. The speed of the turbines increased slowly, and although there was very little improvement in the angle of the ship it meant the current angle could be maintained without Alan.

"You can let go now, Alan."

Scott got there before John, who was currently on the phone to the coast guard trying to ascertain how long it was going to take for them to reach the situation.

"Thanks Scott," Alan chimed cheerily

"Don't forget me! I'm the one doing the hard work."

"Sorry. Thank you Gordon."

"You're welcome."

Gordon grinned. Scott shook his head and let it go. The pair was either winding each other up or plotting something together. This was mild banter and he knew both his siblings were concentrating on their tasks. The smaller pod disappeared from beneath them. Scott tracked Alan's progress on the tablet, his little red dot heading back to the module and hopping across it to grab the large inflator bags from the back. They were going to need four according to John's calculations so he hoped Alan had the sense to drag them all out now so he didn't have to leave the pod again. The red icon eventually whizzed away from the module and towards the indicator on the stern end of the ship before heading straight back to grab the next bag. This one he attached to the bow end. When Alan was safely out the way, Scott selected the bags and activated them simultaneously. The added buoyancy lifted the ship higher in the water, taking Thunderbird Four with it. The video showed a vast improvement in the angle of the cargo and Thunderbird Two's engines were now able to pull the ship to its correct orientation with ease. Gordon released the ship with no adverse effects. He turned and sped towards the floating module. They burst above the surface with great theatre, spray sparkling like diamonds before returning to the sea. The arms that had previously braced against the ship grabbed the last inflator bag and pulled it into the water. They dived heading to the last placement indicator. Gordon waved as they passed Alan, who had been heading back for the last bag. After the bag was installed, Scott activated them and Virgil lowered Thunderbird Two putting slack in the lines. After a minute of stability, the lines were released and withdrawn. Gordon brought them back up to the surface, next to the submarine pod, before heading out the back. Gordon lept onto the module’s door to join a disgruntled looking Alan.

"You took my job!"

"You were taking too long."

"I so wasn't, and you know it."

Scott leapt across the water and joined them on the module's door. The sound of his siblings squabbling flowed over him. It happened frequently post rescue, particularly the less challenging ones where they sometimes stepped on each other's toes. Despite the noise, Scott was happy to see that the pair were in fact working together to get the pod out the water and into the module. Extending his arms above his head, he watched the pair while enjoying the feeling of stretching his legs. He hadn't been on land for four days and his body was itching for a run. The temptation to run circles around the module was sitting at the back of his mind, alongside all the teasing he'd get for doing so. When the pod was loaded the three of them congregated beside it. John had obviously been watching them as he immediately popped up on Scott's wrist and Virgil on Gordon's. Scott sidestepped so Alan could stand between Gordon and himself.

"The coastguard aren't coming, apparently they have something more urgent to deal with." Displeasure tainted the word urgent. "Virgil, the tanker should be able to keep afloat with the buoyancy aids attached, as long as they stick to 10 knots or less. The crew are making their way back to the ship and are aware of this. Considering the time it'll take for them to get to the nearest port it's not worth hanging around and the time saved would be negligible. It should be safe enough to head home and be on alert."

There were nods of agreement from everyone.

"Scott, if you're fed up with being confined with Gordon, I can give you a lift home."

"Hey!" Gordon exclaimed, "I'm not that bad."

"Has he been at the squirty cheese yet? That stuff smells so strong, and it's sticky."

The face Alan pulled was priceless.

"Thanks for the offer, Virgil, but I'm still in need of a little more practice."

"If you're sure, Scott."

"Let him go, Virgil. From the amount of scratches I saw on Thunderbird Four he needs it. He might even beat my record."

Laughter filled the air as every Tracy brother laughed. Scott ruffled Alan's hair as revenge, getting a glare from the teenager. With that he followed Gordon back to Thunderbird Four and jumped aboard. The airlock closed and they headed into the cockpit.

"Fancy getting us back?"

Scott threw his arm over his brother's shoulder and gave him a quick hug.

"How about you get us back while I make us some lunch? Anyway, I need to save myself for those tunnels. I can't embarrass International Rescue by scratching up our submarine on a rescue now, can I?"

Gordon laughed as they separated and slipped down into the driving seat. Scott resisted the urge to mess the man's hair up as he turned to leave. He could survive another four days in a submarine if it meant spending quality time with his brother.

#thunderbirds are go #tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #thunderbird 4 #refresher

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such-a-random-rambler · 4 years ago

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Fab Five Feb - John - Soft Caress

I intentionally left John til last, so I got all the others done, and of course I reverted to type with this one lol.

And I did it! I completed Fab Five Feb 2020 before Feb 2021 (by 2 days)

John storms furiously to the space elevator, not even sparing a glance for his morning coffee and bagel, sitting uneaten and at least eighteen hours cold in the kitchen.

“What the actual hell did you think you were doing?” he is yelling as soon as Scott is in sight, relaxing on the couches. The nerve of him to be so laid back about this!

“I was rescuing people.” Scott puts down his book with a roll of his eyes.

“By almost getting yourself killed, and giving me a heart attack.” John could feel his blood pressure rising, the grip of a gravity headache squeezing either side of his temples.

“It was fine.”

“Its. Not. Fine. Do you know how much that girder missed you by? Seven inches.”

“Then I timed it just right.”

“Gah Scott! Why can’t you understand that functionally - mathematically - seven inches in that environment is nothing. It’s a god damn rounding error and just because you got away with it this time doesn’t mean that -” he pauses for a second, a wave of dizziness hitting him from nowhere. He swallows thickly. “It doesn’t mean that you can pull stupid stunts like that. I can’t -”

He’s hot all over, suddenly sweating. “I can’t -” Has someone turned up the heat? He blinks heavily and the whole room recedes. He’s looking down the wrong end of a telescope with cotton wool stuffed in his ears because he’s sure Scott is saying something but can’t make it out. Can’t even see him properly all the way over there, dark walls narrowing his vision to that far point. “I can’t - I can’t - ”

John’s rage may be white hot, and scalding when you’re the only one in it’s path but Scott isn’t quite ready to concede yet, more than willing to defend his actions that saved lives. He raises one eyebrow questionly as John stops, wavering, and his concern increases when John starts to slur, blood draining from his face.

“John? Are you ok?” He reaches out, but isn’t quite quick enough – or close enough - to catch him as John’s eyes roll up and he crashes to the floor in a heap, narrowly missing hitting his head on the step.

“John?” Scott leans over, taps his cheeks for a reaction. “John? Can you hear me? Damn it.”

Scott grabs a medical kit and hooks the portable scanner into John’s suit. What he sees makes him sigh deeply, but relax. Not a stroke or a heart attack, but a massive rise then drop in blood pressure, – rentry no doubt - and shockingly low blood sugar levels.

He rolls John into the recovery position, just to be safe, and crawls round to stuff a cushion under his head.

“Hope you’re not going to be too bruised after that, but serves you right for yelling at me.” Scott runs a gentle hand through John’s hair, pushing it back from his brother's forehead, making sure it still lies neatly. John always likes his hair just so, as he would hate to make a bad first impression on someone calling for help.

Colour slowly seeps back into John’s cheeks, his brow creases in a frown and his eyes crack open. Unsurprisingly, John picks up his rant where he left off, muttering “I can’t do this without you.”

“When did you last eat? Breakfast I’m guessing?” Scott asks, as John pushes himself slowly upright, understanding a few minutes behind consciousness.

“I.... errr I started breakfast. Then we had a call and - ”

“I get it, come on” Scott hauls John to his feet, steading him under the arm when he sways, just slightly. “I’ll make you bacon and eggs so you have enough energy to tell me how much of an idiot I am.”

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #John Tracy #Scott Tracy

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raziroo · 4 years ago

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1.Stockholm Syndrome - Sirius Black

Pairing : Sirius Black x Reader

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Mentions of death, mentally abusive home conditions, pain. Read at your own risk.

Word Count : 4,297

~~~~~

I didn't like these people.

I didn't like the pretty redhead; not the kind brunet, not the funny raven, not even the nervous blond. And I certainly didn't like the rude, black-haired boy.

See, I'd been abducted by these people in hopes that I would give them information regarding my family, my father.

I was sitting in the living room of our not-so-homely home, reading a textbook about latin, trying to understand the meaning of the extremely complicated meanings of magical spells. I was bound to learn some of them, some day, I was sure of it. Because even if the magic flowing through my veins was untamed, there had to be some way for me to control it. At least that's what my great grandmother always said.

But then again, I'd always been fed lies, throughout my life, since I was an infant, so there really was no saying if it was true or not. Because I really was clueless about what this 'pure magic' meant for me; I didn't know how to control it, I didn't know how to not lash out if any dark magic was near me, and I certainly didn't know how to sleep without that soul-binding spell.

My life was a little complicated, yes.

Actually, more than a little complicated, but I do not wish to delve into the complexities and issues of my life. However, one thing I can say is that it isn't pleasant, and there is absolutely no possible way that I enjoy this life.

Anyway, as I reached to the five hundred and seventy eighth page of the massive book, I was rudely interrupted by a call of my name, coming from our house butler. Yes, we have a butler serving us, along with a house elf, and I myself am not sure why my cruelly disgusting father craves to express the 'power' he holds in the Wizarding World. I think it's annoying.

"Miss, please descend to the dungeons," Klaus, our butler, said. I didn't look up from my book. "Why Klaus, what is it?"

"Your Grandmother -"

"Great grandmother, Klaus."

"My apologies, miss. Your great grandmother requires you to get to dunge -"

"Why? Why does she require me to do so?" I asked, finally looming up at him, face neutral, eyes filled with scrutiny. He looked different from usual, though; the cuffs of his shirt were unbuttoned, his tie was the slightest bit loose, and he looked panicked.

"Miss, plea -"

However, before he could finish it, a CT of red hit him, along with a call of "Stupefy!". I turned to the door, only to see two men, about my age, one with jaw-length black hair, and another with sandy brown hair, at the door. The former had his hand held out, wand gripped in it so tight, his knuckles were going white.

I hadn't moved, but obviously, they'd come there to get me, because as soon as Klaus was passed out, both of them turned to me. They shared a glance, and I had blacked out too, the book falling from my hands.

This group of people, majority of them my age, called themselves The Order of the Phoenix. The name, being quite impressive, had managed to pique my interest. But, as my rotten fate would have it, these people would just glare at me whenever I asked them about it.

They obviously thought that I was worth of value to my family, my father, precisely, and so they'd captured me to get my father and his group of horrid men, men much like him, to come and rescue me, and then the Order would capture them as well; the Order probably wanted information from them. They'd also asked me a couple times, to see if I knew anything, but I had, unsurprisingly, told them I didn't, because I honestly didn't. They didn't believe me, and I hadn't expected them to. Everyone would think that being the heiress to a prestigious pure blood family, I would be aware of, and support, all their darkest secrets. My family was completely opposite; they didn't tell me anything they did, and didn't even consider myself a suitable heiress, solely because I was different from them; I was pure. My magic was pure, I couldn't be able to perform dark magic even if I wanted to.

My family had showed no signs of coming to rescue me, and I was sure they wouldn't, until Antonin asked them to. See, Antonin was my fiance, and probably the only one of the people who knew me to actually care even a tad about me. And even though I knew that it was just because he wanted to mate with me; children of people like me, and usual wizards and witches, were said to have stronger magic running through their body, stronger than normal magical folk.

I didn't even love Antonin, he was 9 years older than me, and it was he who was infatuated by me, by my appearance, and by my blood.

Tonight, however, was supposed to be a more interesting night than usual; the Order would question me. In the sense, properly question me. They would make me sit in a room for a couple hours, take turns questioning me, you know. Everything that a person wanted to go through.

I, personally, didn't think they knew of my abilities, of my magic, because one, my family did their level best to keep everything about me under wraps, and two, the Order never use the soul-binding spell on me before I went to sleep. That's the exact reason I hadn't slept in four days now; if I did, my magic would go into overdrive, and probably severely maim me and the other people living in this house. If there are any.

And so, currently, I am trying, and failing miserably, in reading one of the books this room contains. It's not that I don't want to read; it's probably the only source that I have to get rid of boredom. It's the fact that my eyelids are drooping, and my brain is desperately trying to convince me to fall asleep. I'm against my brain.

"Sit."

"Where?"

"On the chair, that's kept in front of the table."

"OK, OK, calm down," I said, and headed to the wooden chair that was clearly meant for me to sit in. That didn't mean that I wasn't allowed to irritate the three males who'd escorted me into this room. Specifically, Sirius. I'd overheard that glasses wearing man calling the rude one Sirius. And also 'Padfoot' a couple of times. I was sure it was just a stupid nickname.

I took my seat, and so did the three males. They were silent for the most part, and I fiddled with the charm of my necklace. After a period of prolonged silence, in which they appeared to be uncomfortable, and I thought about my betrothal with Antonin, among other things, the glasses wearing boy finally spoke up. "Where are Fab and Gid?"

Sandy haired boy shook his head. "No idea, James."

And then there was silence for another 5 minutes, when three redheads entered the room - one a pretty redhead, who was also pregnant. Weird I hadn't noticed that earlier, because she looked to be at least six months along. The other two were both men, looking a few years older than the rest of us, and were twins.

All of them greeted each other, but looked hesitant, and kept glancing at me, and although the others at least tried to be discreet, the twins and Sirius weren't even trying. Charming.

Pretty soon, my questioning had begun, the males all taking turns asking me questions, while the girl stood on the sidelines. I answered them to the best of my ability, because I honestly didn't know what my father, heck, my whole family was up to, but I sure didn't support them. I would never support them. Not after what happened to Antares. They didn't believe me, but I couldn't possibly do anything to change that.

However, when the questioning took a turn, and they started prying too much for my comfort, I diverted the topic, and very obviously at that.

"Why didn't you attend Hogwarts? Because you look to be about our age, but we've never seen you around. And you weren't enrolled in any Wizardry institution, don't try to lie. We have all the records." Fabian said, pulling out a thick file of papers from a drawer I hadn't noticed.

I tried to keep my face neutral, but my jaw was working, and they saw that too. I had been caught in headlights, and needed an escape, quick.

"What's your name?" I turned to the girl, who looked startled by my sudden interest in her.

"Huh?" she asked, looking to the raven haired male, who I assumed was her boyfriend. "Your name, what is it?" I raised my brows, biting on my thumb nail.

"Uh, Lily, my name is Li -"

"Lily," I said slowly, liking how it rolled off of my tongue, my eyes staring into the distance, and then snapping to her. "Beautiful name, suits you. And," I pointed at the stomach of the bewildered woman. "First child?"

"Yes."

"Hm. Good for you."

I then turned to the males, who had all been watching mine and Lily's interaction with incredulous looks. "So, you're the father, I assume?" I questioned James in a tone I rarely used, authority. They all turned to me, silent. "Hm?"

"Y- yes, I... am the father." The boy looked genuinely nervous. Poor thing.

I nodded, and sat up attentively. "Well, I would really appreciate if you got this questioning session over with quickly," I said.

"I... OK. Yeah, let's, get on with it... Remus?" Gideon turned to the sand haired boy.

"Yeah, yeah, so -"

Just then, the door to the room burst open, and plump woman of about thirty entered the room, with hair same as the twins, and she looked distraught. "Molly?" Fabian asked. "What is it?"

"Death Eaters! I- in Diagon Alley!"

The males all got up in an instant, snatching their wands; James went over to his panicked-looking... whatever Lily was to him, and cupped her face, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. As the men all left, the two women glanced at each other, and then at me, probably because they were confused on what to do about me. Or probably because I hadn't even turned to Molly when she'd made her entrance, hadn't glimpsed at the bustle in the room even once.

*****

One whole week. One whole weak, solid seven days, I'd gone without even a wink of sleep. I didn't know how I was even awake at this point, because all of my being, my entire body was begging for me to sleep, and I wanted to, so badly. But I couldn't. If I didn't wish to hurt these people, if I didn't wish to hurt myself, I couldn't. I was aware of that, and accepting of that fact.

But it seemed that my kidnappers weren't. For on the eighth night, Sirius entered the room with a tray of food. This was strange because usually it was Lily, or occasionally Remus, who came to serve me food. I wasn't exactly sure why Sirius Black, of all people, had come to give me food.

My confusion was momentary, because I sensed the smell of a sleeping concoction as soon as the tray of food was set on the bedside table. And I would've been able to eat the food, if only I knew what exact item the potion was mixed in. The rest of the food was perfectly consumable.

After surveying the tray of food, and Sirius' neutral expression, I asked him a question. "Can I ask you something, Padfoot?"

A strickened expression flashed across his face, but was gone as soon as it appeared. "Don't call me Padfoot," he growled, jaw clenched. "And no, don't ask a question. Just eat your food, and let me go," he looked up to me, his face a couple feet away from mine, hair falling in his face. I would have been lying if I said he wasn't abnormally attractive.

"Okay, then. What have you mixed the sleeping potion in?"

"Could you please shut up with your nonsense, and let me go? " he stood up straight.

"Could you please answer me, and do me the favour of leaving? " I retorted, eyebrows raised.

The male exhaled forcefully through his nose, looking extremely pissed. "No."

"Okay."

"What?"

"Oh-kay," I sounded. "I mean, you can leave. Go."

He looked skeptical. "Okay, I'll leave."

"Yeah, yeah, go. Just- uh, and take the food as well," I said, motioning to the tray.

"You don't wanna eat?" he asked.

"I do want to eat. I would honestly really appreciate if I could eat food, I mean, I can't sleep, food will be appreciated. But," I drawled the word out longer. "I don't wish to consume a sleeping potion."

The man looked at me after my statement, for about a minute. And then before I could react, he was aiming his wand at me, and I passed out, part of me glad to receive sleep, and a fraction of me scared of what was very clearly bound to happen.

My body felt hot, all over, as if there was electricity flowing through me. A familiar feeling of stinging pain consumed my head, and spread to my body, slowly, painfully. Inevitable cries, shouts, and groans of pain escaped me, eventually turning to screams of pure agony. Tears flowed from my eyes, as I writhed and thrashed, my magic erupting out of me in short bursts.

I could make out the faint noises of people entering the room, casting spells, and trying to control my magic. I knew it would be uncontrollable; it would only go away when all my energy was drained, as in literally drained, I wouldn't be able to use magic for about a week or two. There was another way, however. The soul-binding spell. Two simple words, 'ligat animam', and all my misery would be gone. But none of these people were skilled or powerful enough to carry that spell out, I was sure of it. Even my father had to practice for a good three weeks to get the spell right, and however much might I dislike him, I had to say that he was an extremely skilled wizard, and an experienced one too.

These wizards and witches, however, would just end up fainting, and not help me in any way. After all, the soul-binding spell was as tiring as the patronus, if not more. Constricting a person's soul, their core, their magic, it wasn't an easy task, shouldn't have to be.

They would just get hurt, the Order. And so, overpowering my agony and suffering for just a moment, I managed to utter something that made them leave, albeit hesitantly. "It wo- ah! Won't wo-urk! Lea...ve! Un-less you... bind- the sou...l! Please!" and went back to sobbing. I guess they understood what I said, and left.

Waking up was a very energy-consuming task, more so than you could ever fathom. Every joint, every bone, every fiber of my being hurt, and hurt bad. My body was so completely sore, it was almost numb, and it would have been a million times better if it was numb, because the aching was unbearable, something no one should have to experience. In simpler words, it was as bad as the after effects of the Cruciatus curse.

I somehow, Merlin knows how, managed to support myself up on my elbows, before crumbling to my bed again. Morgana help me. My situation was hopeless and I knew it.

I had nearly given up on hopes of getting up and about, when someone entered my room. Correction, two someone's entered my room. One was a sand-haired male, Remus Lupin, and the other was a black-haired one, Sirius Black.

I had only recently learned that this Sirius was the Sirius Black, epitome of disappointment, perfect example of what was considered disappointing in a pure blood family. It was actually quite foolish of me to not put two and two together, there were very less people who would name their child Sirius.

Anyways, as the two men entered my room, my eyes followed their movements; Sirius stopped at the entrance, while it was Remus who actually entered the room. The latter trotted to my bed, and unexpectedly, helped me sit up. I was surely surprised at first, yes, but managed to cover it up pretty well. Or so I thought.

"Why do you look so surprised, hm? We're good people, you know, people who actually want to do good for the Wizarding World," Sirius chided. Now, look, I would have just ignored him, like I always do. But one should have the basic understanding of when they need to stop blabbing, and stay silent. Sirius clearly didn't have such sense. And so, when Remus went to say something to the former, I cut him off and spoke myself.

"Siri-"

"Yeah, you're such an angel, aren't you?"

The boy's jaw clenched. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I don't know, probably the fact that you put me to sleep without my consent; you are the reason the happenings of last night even occurred!" I answered, my tone sharp. My retort didn't seem to faze Remus a lot; in fact, he had a slightly guilty expression himself. But why would- Oh.

The sleeping potion, obviously. These people were worried about my sleep schedule, and that's why the attempt to get me to sleep. They probably thought it was because of being captured, because of anxiety, that I was losing sleep. Foolish people.

"You thought- you all thought that I wasn't sleeping because I was stressed... about being held captive?"

When no one broke the silence, I did. By chuckling. "You are all so naive," I said, full out laughing now, albeit it being hysteric. Their faces were hilariously incredulous.

I stopped laughing, and rolled my eyes.

"I, have no reason to be worried, or stressed, or- or anxious, of you," I said, each word being pronounced with each of its syllables. "I didn't wish to sleep because of... Well, because of what happened last night. You thought it wise to interfere in matters that didn't concern you, and that's why I had to- " I stopped, and took in a breath, closing my eyes.

"Could you please leave?"

*****

Sirius didn't wish to, apparently, because after only three hours of providing me with time to think, he returned. That complete, absolute git had the nerve to enter my room after hurting me so much.

He cleared his throat. I didn't pay attention. He coughed. I still didn't listen. He stopped trying, saving the little bit of self respect he had left.

After a long and painfully uncomfortable period of silence, I adressed the man who was present with me in the room. "So, you're here."

"I- uh, yes, uh, I guess I am... After all." he cleared his throat again, not meeting my eyes.

"Hm. Well... what are you here for, Mr. Black?" he radiated an even more awkward aura, if that was possible. "I... I wanted to apologize. On the entire Order's behalf; we shouldn't have tried to, uh, put you to sleep forcefully."

"That's... yeah, you shouldn't have." This statement made him look ashamed. "But, well... I guess your heart was, uh, sorry, hearts were in the correct place. You just needed a bit more... Research. It's... Okay, after all. I accept your apology."

The male finally looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "Really?"

"Yes, really," I nodded, not breaking eye contact. He smiled a bit; the smile made him look a hundred times more attractive than he already was.

"That's... Great. Thank you."

*****

Two months. It had been two more months of me being held captive, but my family didn't seem to care; some would consider my condition to be pitiful. Over the course of these two months, I had grown fond of these people. James, Lily, Remus, Peter, Fabian and Gideon, even Sirius. I didn't really know Peter that well; he seemed kind of scared of me, if I'm being honest. I didn't really dwell on it too long, just shrugging the matter off.

I also was sleeping on a regular basis; Dumbledore helped with the soul binding spell. Meeting the elderly wizard had been quite an experience, I would always remember it.

Currently, I was eating breakfast on a small foldable table, Sirius sitting opposite me. I had grown closer to him more than anyone else, he actually had a great personality. I think his personality was the reason why he came across as so effortlessly attractive.

"How is it?"

"The food?"

"Obviously."

"Well. It's actually really good. Doesn't seem like something Molly would typically make, but it's good."

"Really? "Sirius seemed uncharacteristically excited.

"...Yes. Why? "

"I made it. "

I looked up at him, studying his face. He really had made the food on his own. "Liar. "

"Wha- no! You got to trust me" I'm not lyi-" He was enraged.

"I'm done. Congratulate Molly for cooking such delicious food," I said ignorantly, putting my fork down.

"You do believe me, don't you? You're just trying to irritate me," Sirius said in a tone that seemed to be wanting to convince himself more than me, that I believed him. He waved his wand, and the plates and cutlery were gone, table folded and levitated to the side.

"Well... I might be," I said, sheepishly.

He stared at me. I stared back.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why... We're you not anxious or worried? I mean, you were being held captive, it doesn't matter however nice the captor is," he asked, hesitantly.

I sunk back in the pillows, and suddenly, my hand seemed to intrigue me more than they ever had. "It's okay, you know, if you don't want to tell," he began in a hurry. "It's perfectly fi-"

"No, no no no, " I cut him off, stretching my hands in front of me. "It's just... They aren't exactly... The best household to be part of, or grow up in. They've always ridiculed me for... My magic. Because it's different, and because it repels dark magic. The kind that they always put to use, so, they feel... offended, maybe? That their daughter, their own blood can't do the magic they want her to. It's no big deal, honestly," I laughed, not breaking my record of not loosing at the male opposite of me. "I guess it's just how pure blood families work."

I kept my gaze in my lap, pointedly ignoring Sirius. Said person stayed silent for a long time; longer than I felt comfortable with. Just as I had begun apologising for burdening him with my family's secrets, he reached across and hugged me. Tight. And initially, I was confused, but then I made out the vibrations of his chest against mine: sobbing. Sirius was sobbing. Why, I wasn't aware. But that didn't matter. So I hugged him back. I held him close to me, my arms wrapped around him tightly.

*****

He was here. They all were here. For me.

It had been six months since I was captured, and they were finally here. Lily's son had been born, little Harry, and he was in danger. Lily herself was in danger. And so were James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, everyone. Gideon had already been maimed; Fabian was dead.

All because of me.

And just as I burst out of the room Sirius had locked me in, so as to keep me away from the insane amounts of dark magic outside, I collided with him.

"Antonin," I breathed, looming up at the man. He was clean shaven, like always, and his eyes had that cruel glint, like always.

"Oh, love," he sighed out, like he'd been putting a lot of effort to just be able to say that to my face again; and with the ambush these Death Eaters had carried out, I was sure he had. He was just about to wrap his arms around my torso, when a spell hit him from behind, blasting him to the wall. Horrified, I looked up, and my orbs met stormy gray ones.

The person who possessed these eyes grabbed a hold of my forearms, and in one swift motion, I was inside that wretched room back again, and Sirius had locked that door, again.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"Sirius, calm down, I was-"

"Calm down? I'm sorry for not being calm during an ambush! Now what were you-"

"Sirius! Listen to me, alright? They- um, Antonin, he won't stop until he has me, okay? And Fabian is already, I can't, I'm sorry. But I've got to go, okay? I have to go, becau- "

"No, no no no! No! You can't! Please, love, no-" He looked so panicked. For the first time since I'd known him, Sirius black looked a wreck.

I kissed him. Square on the lips, and for a time period that seemed way too short to tell him how much I really loved him.

"I love you, Black. And don't you ever forget that."

And with that, I stormed out of the room, right into Antonin, who apparated me out, with Sirius having that stunned and pained look in his eyes.

*****

Twelve years. It took him twelve years to break out of that hellish place.

I would have scoured the planet if I could, for him. Shame really, that I was already dead. James and Lily thought so too.

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swaps55 · 4 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

I didn’t want to share angst on a day when a lot of people have enough angst and anxiety, so I dug around to find something fluffy. This is from a Cantata story that I’m eventually rewriting, but it definitely counts as fluffy. :)

Takes place before the Normandy, while Sam and Kaidan serve together on a ship called the Myeongnyang.

Outside, the yellowed terrain of Inti yawns before them. Not the most welcoming of places, but far from the most inhospitable. As far as planets go, this one is largely forgettable save for a few non-Alliance prefabs they’d detected from orbit that signaled possible pirate activity. There’s nothing on Inti to gain by being here – between the ammonia and the sodium oxide there’s just not much to care about on this sullen rock – but it’s dangerously close to Chasca, where pre-colonization efforts have already started in earnest. Any piracy spotted on patrols in the Matano system are to be put down immediately.

Three pre-fabs down, two to go.

“Coming, Lieutenant?” Shepard asks.

Kaidan looks over at the Grizzly – this one borrowed from the Madrid – and sighs. “Don’t suppose you’ll let me drive?”

“Get your ass inside, Alenko,” Shepard replies good naturedly.

Chaos. Shepard is chaos everywhere he goes. Particularly when a tank gets involved.

But Shepard is chaos Kaidan is beginning to learn. While taking the next prefab, Kaidan just…knows that Shepard is going to target the turian closing in on Beaudoin’s left before Shepard pivots, and pre-emptively incapacitates the asari pirate he’s now exposed his back to. A few moments later Shepard goes after a second turian who keeps lobbing grenades. Kaidan puts three bullets into a batarian who’s fallen into Shepard’s blind spot.

It’s not until later he figures out that Shepard knew full well the batarian had been there, and trusted Kaidan would take care of it.

He’d been right.

Once they clean out the other prefabs they headed back to the rendezvous coordinates, ready to extract the Grizzly and return to the Madrid. From there it’s back to Chasca, where the supplies the cruiser is carrying will be delivered, and then ground team will return to the Myeongnyang.

Shepard guns the engine coming down a rocky slope to send the Grizzly airborne. Kaidan grimaces as the tank thuds back to the ground.

“You realize the more you do that, the more I’m gonna try to make you do that,” Shepard says with a sidelong glance.

“What?” Kaidan says through gritted teeth. “Hold on for my life while you fling this thing around like a drunken elephant?”

“Yep.”

“You realize we have people in the back, right?”

“Aslany likes it.”

“Aslany also likes mustard on toast for breakfast, so her opinion is automatically overruled.”

“Heard that, sir.”

Shepard chuckles. It’s a rich, deep sound, one Kaidan hasn’t heard often. Usually when he so much as smiles its guarded. Careful. On the rare occasions when he laughs it sounds more like a slip of the tongue. But this? This sounds real. It’s almost worth the constant white-knuckled grip on the handle above his head.

He swears as Shepard pulls the wheel again, slewing to the right this time. Kaidan doesn’t know what for and isn’t going to bother asking. Shepard laughs again and thunks a gauntleted hand against Kaidan’s thigh.

“You’re all right, Alenko.”

Had it not been for Shepard’s wild over correction to straighten their course, Kaidan would have smiled. Maybe that laugh wasn’t an accident, or a slip. Maybe they’re getting the hang of more than just combat.

#snippet

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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The Bear (Bit 1)

Just a little one, hopefully Bit 1 of 2.

I should be writing other stuff, but this came to mind in the car this morning and I wrote it down. A bit sad. A bit of neglect goes a long way.

-o-o-o-

They caught him post mission.

They didn’t even let him shed his uniform. He was covered in muck, mud in his hair and cranky as ever.

Scott grabbed one side, Gordon the other, and Alan played interference when those tired but still heavy-lifting muscles protested.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Scott grunted as Virgil attempted to wrest his arm away. “This is an intervention.”

“What?!”

Gordon grimaced on the other side of his brother and Scott gripped his side tighter, just in case. He needn’t have worried though. Gordon had hidden strengths.

“If you don’t stop wriggling, Virgil, I’m gonna stamp on your toes.”

And tactics.

Finally, the engineer went limp and did as he was told. Quietly they marched him out of the villa and down to the nearest beach. They dragged him up to the water’s edge, and, with Alan grabbing his legs in an imitation of a football tackle, they dumped his squawking ass in the ocean.

It may have been a concern with all the equipment Virgil stashed in his uniform, but as with all their IR gear, it was waterproof. Anything lost could be easily replaced.

The three of them stood at the waterline as Virgil spluttered and surfaced, wiping seawater from his eyes. “What the hell, guys?”

Scott stood tall. “You, my dear brother, have been a grumpy ass all week. You’re snarling so much you’re scaring the natives in the danger zones.” An indrawn breath. “You. Need. Downtime.” Each word was punctuated. “If you won’t give yourself a break, we will. You’re off rescues for the rest of the week.” He glared at his drenched brother.

Virgil had hair in his eyes. He opened his mouth.

“Or longer if you don’t behave.” Scott gestured at the beach. “Slow down. Reconnect with the planet or whatever it is you do. Feel the breeze. Smell the flowers. Watch grass grow. I don’t care. Just give yourself some time.”

Gordon opened his mouth. “Yeah, bro. We love the bear, but the claws are getting sharp.”

Virgil stared at them. Scott watched emotion flicker across his expression. Anger, remorse, anger again, a touch of fear, only for it all to be replaced with exhaustion. Virgil’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

Scott sighed. “No need to be sorry, Virg. Just look after yourself.”

His brother’s eyes dropped to the gentle wash of the water he was standing in before looking up at them again. “I guess the lack of sleep is getting to me.”

“You guess?” Alan’s voice was high-pitched. “You’re scary, bro. You had me and three of our rescuees hiding in the back of Two’s module the entire way home today. I didn’t know you could even snarl like that. They thought you had a mental health issue. Took some fast talking, let me tell you.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped even further, totally dejected.

Scott wilted a little. “C’mon, Virg, this isn’t you. You need rest.”

“Yeah, before you rip someone’s head off. Possibly mine.”

“Gordon!”

“Hey, you didn’t have to listen to today’s lecture on which buttons I was and wasn’t allowed to touch on Two’s dash. Anyone would think I might break something.”

Alan piped up. “In Virgil’s defence, you have broken things in the past.”

“They were accidents.”

“Accidents that Virgil had to repair. I recall one taking half a day and two trips to Aotearoa for parts.”

“Hey, who are we lecturing here?!”

Scott stepped in on that one. “Anyone who needs it.”

“Oh, in that case, I have a list.”

“Gordon.”

“What?”

Virgil stepped forward into shallower water and sat down. Drawing his knees in closer he dropped his forehead down to rest on them.

The small waves produced by the caldera washed around him with a soft rhythm.

“Uh, Virg?” Gordon was frowning at his brother. “Whatcha doin’?”

Muffled. “You can go now.”

“Virgil?” It was Scott’s turn to frown.

A sigh. “Go. I will do what you want. Just go.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Just go!” The bear emerged and snarled.

Scott took a step back and held up his hands. “Okay, Virg. We’re leaving. Just take some time.”

“Go.”

Gordon shot Scott a worried look. Scott answered with a frown and a gesture with his head. “We’re going. Call us if you need us.”

His brother grunted and Scott backed off up the beach, dragging Gordon and Alan with his eyes.

Once they hit the tree line, Scott turned and started striding up towards the villa. He thumbed his comms. “John?”

“Mission accomplished?”

“Yes. Can you keep an eye on him?”

“FAB.”

A glance back at the beach between the trees and he left, taking his two brothers with him.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy

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dewitty1 · 5 years ago

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Fic Recs Wrap Up - February 2020 (ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

Sex and the Art of Castle Maintenance by birdsofshore

"Come on, boys," Zabini drawled. "You’re only delaying the inevitable."

Trouble always had a way of finding Harry, and eighth year was obviously going to be no exception. Excerpt post

All I Want For Christmas (Is For You To Stop Talking) by Femme (femmequixotic), noeon (noe) @femmequixotic @noeeon

The Niffler's Garden is the most prestigious wizarding nursery school in England and has been for the last century or more. Harry Potter's boys are both enrolled as pupils at the Garden. When he volunteers to assist with the Yule pageant, he has no idea that he'll be working closely with another parent, Draco Malfoy. Although they haven't seen each other much since their own school days, Harry faults Malfoy for not being a hands-on dad to little Scorpius. Will the intense weeks of preparation fan the fires of enmity or something else entirely? Excerpt Post

Star Quality by who_la_hoop

Two years after the war, and Harry’s content with his life. OK, so it’s a little annoying that he keeps winning Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor award, and he’s really not looking forward to the unveiling of an enormous gold statue of himself, but he loves his friends, and he loves being an Auror. And if he yearns for something more, something he can barely bring himself to think about, well, he’ll probably get over it. No one’s happy all the time, are they?

But then everything changes, and Harry’s thrown into a new and dazzling world he’s not sure he can actually escape from. And as time goes on, he starts to wonder: does he actually want to? Excerpt Post

You Set My Soul Alight by ConsentFest, parkkate @parkkate

Students are going missing at Hogwarts, but that's not the only mystery Draco is determined to solve. Something’s going on with Potter. He can deny it all he wants. Draco is going to find out what it is. Unfortunately, trying to get to the bottom of it has some unexpected consequences and if Draco isn’t careful, he’s going to jeopardise their mission. Excerpt Post

Trouble, My Old Friend by Tepre @tepre

Harry goes rogue investigating an illegal potion and ends up at Draco Malfoy's dodgy lab. Excerpt Post

Safe Words by ConsentFest, felix_atticus

Draco discovers his husband has been keeping a secret from him. At first he's amused. Then he's curious. The problem? Harry's always had a hard time saying no. Excerpt post

This Year's Love by ConsentFest, trishjames @thusspoketrish

This year’s love had better last, heaven knows it’s high time when you try to make lovers from friends. But Harry Potter realises time and time again that it’s simply not possible for him. And then along comes Draco Malfoy— the ultimate foe on the mend. Whatever will become of them? A story about love. Excerpt Post

Love, Harry by Zzzara @big-draco-energy

Harry Potter keeps a huge secret: that scary thing he can't tell anyone about. Until a mysterious penfriend changes his life, because he keeps a secret, too. Excerpt Post

Here are some other fab things to check out - (○´･∀･)o<･。:*ﾟ;+．

A Muffled Groan by gnarf @gnarf

The last thing Harry had expected to see when stumbling into Malfoy's room in their shared flat was this.

When the Fallout Comes by MaesterChill @maesterchill

Draco Malfoy, hard-as-nails Hit Wizard, has a secret obsession. Well two of them. Or ten, depending how far that metaphor can stretch. It's hard to put a finger on exactly when it tipped from the occasional off-hand observation into something more gripping, but suffice to say it's now getting a touch out-of-hand. Hands. It's Potter's hands. He's obsessed with Potter's hands.

We Take Care of Each Other by keyflight790 @keyflight790

Draco has been having panic attacks for years, until his best friend, Pansy, welcomes him into a whole new world. And he thought being a wizard was neat. Being a dom was even better. (Wip)

A Big Black Sky by AlexMeg

Draco shifts his head as he turns to look at Scorpius, his cheek touching the pillow. "Did you know that…" He pauses, his throat convulsing, and it sounds audible in the silence, besides Michael's steady, even breathing from the other bedroom.

Scorpius is staring back at him, in wait of something new to learn, a beautiful and intelligent child. He has Draco's mind. He has Draco's eyes and nose and mouth and hair. He is his. All his. All he has of Michael are his wild curls and the green of his eyes, and sometimes he looks into them and imagines that they aren't Michael's, but someone else's.

Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky."

I hope you enjoy these fics! As always, thanks for reading,following & sharing! I’ll be back next week with more fic recs!

Xoxo Carey (๑°꒵°๑)･*♡💜💙💚💛❤💕💖

#Drarry #Drarry fic recs #Fic recs wrap up february 2020 #fic recs #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry squad #Carey's personal bookmarks #Carey's bookmark fic recs

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eirabach · 5 years ago

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Risky Business [1/1]

Here’s the rest of yesterday’s six sentences. They grew. For @olliepig and @onereyofstarlight, with love.

Yes, I wrote fluff. I feel weird about it too.

AO3

He asks her after a rescue, adrenaline and relief making him brave -- far braver than he'd had to be to dive into a bottomless chasm, anyway. Though part of him wonders if it isn't pretty much the same thing.

It's not like he's going to casually date Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, is it?

It feels a bit all or nothing, this. A risky business. And yeah sure, so she’s kissed him. Twice, actually. Three times. He hasn’t actually lost count of the number of times she’s thrown her arms around his neck, obviously. It’s just he’s replayed them all so many times, so very many times, that maybe they’re kinda blurring into one long, beautiful moment and really -- really he’d like the chance to lose count, that’s all.

First he has to actually get the words out. It’s easier said than done.

"So, what do you think? Would you -- would you like that? With me?"

She smiles across the holocomm, wide and genuine and yeah, all or nothing. All or nothing and he's betting it all on the curl of her lips.

"Dinner? Yes. Yes I rather think I would."

---

“You’re not serious?”

Scott prowls around him, dark brows pulled low over narrow eyes. Sweat prickles at the back of Gordon’s neck, some evolutionary response finely honed by twenty five years of little brotherhood.

“Uh, yes?” he manages, any other words choked out by the way Scott steps forward and pulls on his collar.

“It’s orange.”

“I like orange.”

From the couch Virgil makes a strange, whining sound. “It’s dayglo, Gords.”

“So I’m gonna be easy to spot, yeah?”

Above them John hovers, arms folded, judgement clear. “Are you taking her to Coachella?”

“Maybe.” He bats at Scott’s hands. “Will you -- geroff, Scott!”

“It’s no good,” Scott sighs, radiating disappointment, “he’s a hopeless case. Virgil?”

“I have to concur.” Gordon scowls at his supposed wingman, but Virgil just shakes his head, “No hope at all.”

“Maybe Lady Penelope’s like a dog though?” Alan pipes up. “Like, what if she can only see super bright things? She likes pink, right? Maybe that’s why!”

“Please,” John again, a floating Greek chorus to Gordon’s ever mounting misery, “don’t compare Lady P to a dog. You’ll give him ideas. And anyway the canine eye only has --”

“Enough already! Ugh! Fine!” In one swift movement he whips the offending shirt -- his best shirt, as it happens -- over his head and tosses it to the floor. It lies there, a crumpled, accusatory heap, while Gordon crosses his arms over his bare chest and glares.

“You win,” he snarls. “I’ll go like this, yeah?”

Scott shrugs. “Could work.”

“Not very subtle though,” Virgil says.

“Just about right then,” mutters John.

“Won’t you be cold?”

Gordon grits his teeth and blows out, hard. “I hate you all.”

“No you don’t,” Scott says mildly. “You love us. And --” He steps forward, squeezes Gordon’s bare shoulder with a grin. Against his will, Gordon half leans into it. There’s an unsteadiness to him, deep down and working its way out, and as much as he wants to slap his brothers sometimes -- sometimes he really doesn’t. “You can even borrow my shirt.”

---

Parker is practically vibrating as he hands over the keys to FAB 0. Well, sort of hands. Really Gordon has to practically unfurl the man’s death grip then snatch them away. Parker’s eye twitches, and it’s probably just as well that Gordon isn’t the supernaturally concerned type because if there was ever a man willing a curse on another he’s pretty sure he’d be screwed.

“You look h’after her,” Parker spits, and Gordon would toss him a salute, he would, but he thinks he might get punched. And Scott will kill him if he gets blood on his borrowed shirt.

“I got it,” he says, then, shooting for reassurance, “you taught me to drive, remember?”

Despite the deathglare, Parker visibly pales. “I remember.” Then, leaning in just a touch too far to be comfortable, “I weren’t talkin’ about the car.”

Penelope, already ensconced in the front passenger seat, leans out of the open window with a sigh. “Gentlemen, if you’re quite finished?”

Parker snaps back to attention, and Gordon fiddles with his shirtsleeves, abashed.

“Of course, your Ladyship.”

“Sorry, Pen.”

He slips into the driver’s seat and tries very hard to ignore the flames he’s sure Parker is burning into his back. After a moment of confusion -- why are there so many keys on this thing? -- FAB 0 judders into life and makes somewhat lurching progress down the manor’s driveway. He brakes at the end, looking both ways as Parker had instructed, then almost jumps out of his skin as Penelope’s hand comes to rest on his thigh.

“Gordon?” He doesn’t look at her. There’s a dark mark in the distance. Could be another car. Could be Thunderbird One. Could be his heart which appears to have leapt straight out of his chest and made a run for it. “Are you quite all right?”

“Yeah, yeah -- fine, uh -- are we clear left?”

He hears the way she exhales, and his heart returns only to sink into his very shiny shoes.

“Clear left.”

God, he hopes the rest of the night is smoother than his clutch control.

---

The restaurant is -- nice. It’s small, perhaps ten tables all topped with stems of roses and unlit candles, and cosily intimate even without the dimmed lighting that makes every plate a mystery. Nor is it a place that’s registered on her radar before, tucked as it is into a narrow backstreet of a nowhere sort of town. There are no paparazzi at the windows, here, FAB 0’s arrival greeted only by the twitching of blinds and the hushed exclamations of a gang of teenage boys who’d been lingering on the corner.

There's something a little furtive about it, about the way the door is locked behind them, the way she feels more than hears Gordon's intake of breath as she removes her furs. It gives her a little thrill, the way she can still feel the imprint of his hand on her lower back as he pulls her chair out, and she smooths out her skirt as she sits, once, twice, three times. Wills herself steady.

The kitchen door is slightly askew, the single waitress polishing the same wine glass over and over, and it occurs to her that everybody seems to be waiting for something. Someone. Across the table Gordon concentrates on the candle with enough force to set it alight.

Oh.

“This is rather lovely,” she says, loud enough for the waitress to relax her grip on the wine glass slightly, “however did you find it?”

“Oh!” Gordon looks up, as though he’s surprised to find her sat there. “Bit of a -- work thing. You know. Gas leaks and -- yeah. You know.”

Penelope doesn’t know, actually, but she hums in agreement anyway and picks up the leather-bound menu.

“It’s all right though, right? You like it?”

He’s fiddling with his shirt cuffs again. They’re perhaps half an inch too long and a little too loose, so that the cufflinks he wears clink against the tabletop. It’s a nervous, silvery sort of sound that has Penelope dropping the menu and reaching out to cover both his hands with her own.

“Of course I like it.” She smiles. Squeezes. “Don’t you?”

He half snorts, an undignified little thing, but then he’s turning his palms up, fingers coming to rest perfectly in the space between her own.

“You’re here aren’t you? What’s not to love.”

She smiles, lets the tip of her tongue peek from between her teeth, “Well, obviously.”

She expects to feel satisfaction as the high colour of his cheeks spreads to the tips of his ears, down his throat, she doesn’t expect the thrill as his eyes darken, as he runs his thumb across the pulse point at her wrist.

“Hungry?”

Well then. Two can play at that game.

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

---

Gordon notices her inbetween mouthfuls of honeyed aubergine, blurred by the semi-frosted window glass, hopping from foot to foot before ducking away only to reappear half a moment later at another window. He tries to ignore her, concentrating instead on Penelope’s latest escapades with the World Council and offering, as best he can, ever more involved acts of vengeance she could turn to her advantage against the besuited middle aged idiots that fill most of the council seats.

“There’s somebody behind me,” she says before taking a sip of her wine. “Isn’t there.”

The figure at the window shifts again. Gordon blinks.

“N-no?”

“Your eyes have been darting about as though they’re fit to leave your head for the last ten minutes, darling. Either there’s something behind me that has you concerned, or you are undergoing some form of medical emergency.”

Gordon groans. “My sister is insane. You know that, right?”

“Your sis- ?” Penelope twists round in her chair. The shadowy figure freezes on the spot, a rabbit caught in piercing blue headlights. “Tanusha,” she hisses, then, polite as can be, “Oh, pardon me?” She beckons to the waitress who scuttles over immediately. “There’s a young lady outside, and the weather is rather inclement. Would you mind inviting her in?”

The waitress looks at Gordon. Gordon shrugs the shrug of the damned. “Might as well. She’ll end up in the ceiling otherwise.”

Clearly perturbed by this oddest of statements, the waitress unlocks the door. Kayo sashays in as though she’s actually been invited.

Penelope’s smile turns wolfish. Gordon tops up his glass and wishes fervently that it contained something stronger than soda water.

Kayo, who is clearly a woman with no sense of self preservation whatsoever, drags a chair over from another table and, snagging an olive from Penelope’s plate, grins at the waitress. “Aren’t they cute? I think they’re super cute.”

The waitress makes a noise that Gordon translates as you’ve just lost me my tip, and returns to the relative safety of the bar at the end of the room.

“Who put you up to this? Was it Scott? Alan, I bet it was Alan. I’m going to leave anchovies in his boosters.”

“Try again.”

“Virgil?!”

“Nuh huh.” She reaches for another olive. Penelope snatches the plate away.

“John wouldn’t dare," she announces, and Kayo bows her head slightly in agreement.

"Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I let you see me didn't I?" She offers Gordon a sly sort of smirk. "Though your observation skills are appalling, Tracy."

"Maybe I had better things to be looking at."

Penelope giggles, and it's a dangerous sound, a dangerous sound that travels through every one of his nerves to settle at the base of his spine.

"You've been behind us since the last junction on the motorway, Thunderbird Shadow." This time when she smiles Penelope shows her teeth, and Gordon wonders exactly how much of a blood alcohol level it will take to get him grounded. "If you plan to spy on us at least do me the honour of doing so properly."

Kayo's expression sours.

"I wanted you to see me."

Gordon sighs. “Knew we shouldn’t have let you take a rotation on Five, they all lose it up there.”

"No -- I," Kayo pauses, almost flustered. "Would you believe I just wanted to make sure you things were ok? With you two?"

Gordon looks at Penelope. Penelope looks at Gordon. Kayo flicks at an olive stone with her nail.

"I meant it. You guys are super cute. I didn't want anyone messing it up."

"She's cracked." Gordon says, bemused. "Completely Space Crazy."

"Nonsense, darling." Penelope tuts. "We're adorable."

"Well I mean obviously I know that," he scoffs, "but Kayo?"

"Hey! I'm right here."

"Yes," says Penelope drolly, "so we can see."

"Look, so I ship it, ok? You should be glad! Virgil only gave you a week max!"

"What are you shipp -- hey! A week?!"

Penelope shrugs apologetically in his direction. "I believe that's seven times longer than Parker would prefer."

"Um." The waitress hovers behind Kayo, tab in hand. "Will you be uh, eating too? Or would you like the bill?"

Gordon's suddenly, painfully aware of the silence from the kitchen, the air thick with held breath. Spectacle. The actual last thing he wanted, and here it is compliments of his own socially inept family.

"The bill, please."

Well. That’s that, then.

They make a rather awkward trifecta, gathered around the trunk of a bright pink Rolls and all trying quite hard not to look at the gawking, and now much larger, group of young men from earlier.

“All right,” Penelope says, “you’ve had your fun, how much did he pay you?”

Kayo attempts a look of innocence, but it’s the same one Gordon himself had taught Alan and it never, ever works. Especially not on people who’ve met them. Any of them. And especially especially not on Penny. She proves his point with a single arched eyebrow.

“He promised to take me out safe cracking,” Kayo mumbles, then, insistent, “we weren’t going to take anything.”

Penelope scoffs. “Have you met Parker?”

“Hang on.” Gordon steps in, irritation and not a small amount of hurt rising to the surface. “Parker sent you to spy on our -- on us. And you did it?”

“I’ve just been really bored since we got rid of the Hood,” Kayo wheedles. “It’s nothing personal.”

It is personal; it’s probably the most personal thing Gordon can think of, and he’s about to tell her so, loudly, if necessary, when the trunk of FAB 0 pops open with a click of Penelope’s fingers.

“If you wanted to go lockpicking, Kayo, you only had to ask.”

A twist and a shove and a -- slam, and Kayo lies like an upturned turtle in the mink lined trunk of the Rolls.

Against his better judgement Gordon lets out a low whistle of admiration. “Whoa -- sticky hand technique?”

Penelope hums, delighted. “The very same.” Kayo stares up at them, shock written in every sprawled limb. “Now, do have fun, won’t you?” Another click, and the trunk lid drops, muting Kayo’s protests behind a shield of steel.

One of the onlookers gasps, and Penelope throws a becoming smile over her shoulder at them. “Keep an eye out, gentlemen, won’t you?”

“She’s going to kill me,” Gordon manages as an unpleasantly metallic clanging begins to emanate from the car. “She can’t kill you but she is absolutely going to kill me, Pen. She’s going to murder me.”

“She chose her side,” Penelope says, “and besides, there are air holes.”

“Why do you have air holes in your trunk?”

“Why do you ask such obvious questions?” She spins on her heel to face him, rubbing her hands over his biceps and briefly, very briefly, Gordon forgets that he’s going to die very, very soon. “Take me dancing?”

FAB 0 rocks, there’s the clatter of bicycles swiftly mounted from the other end of the street, and well, if he’s going to die anyway --

Penelope skips lightly from foot to foot, chilly even in her furs, and if he’s going to die anyway;

“Yeah, okay. Yeah.”

---

(She means to only leave Kayo for twenty minutes to stew. She truly does. She's contrite, later, when John tells her off and Parker is left to hammer dents from the antique steel. She even apologises to Kayo, despite the destruction wrought upon both car and date.

But the floors were sticky and the drinks were cheap, and she'd laughed as he'd swung her around and around, laughed until she could catch his mouth on the upswing.

And kissed him until she lost count.)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #gordon tracy #penelope creighton-ward #pen and ink #clare vs writers block

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willow-salix · 5 years ago

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Next chapter is up! Posting a couple of days early as @hedwigstalons and @hodgehegposts need a midweek boost. Its too big at 8.5K to post, so here's a teaser from the start, you can read the rest here.

"Remember to keep your comms open at all times, don't take unnecessary risks and don't go in anywhere alone. Two to a team at all times," Virgil instructed.

"Yeah, we know, be sensible, be safe," Gordon assured him. "We got it."

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two, come in Virgil."

"Go ahead, Scott."

"I am approaching the danger zone now, what is your ETA?"

"We're just under seven minutes behind you. I've got a full crew here, just let us know when and where you need us."

"FAB, I'm going to check in with the emergency teams and get as much information as possible from them."

"No need, Scott," John informed him, "Dad already made contact and they are sending through all the information they have. Dad wants you to send down some drones into the building and get an idea of the situation inside. The equipment that the fire service has just isn't up to the task."

"So I'm basically being used as a scout?" Scott's tone implied that he was anything but happy about the idea.

"For now," John hedged.

"FAB," Scott snapped out between gritted teeth, his hologram blinking away.

Everyone in Two was silent for a few moments, until Selene broke the tension.

"Fine, I'll be the one to say it, what the fuck is your Dad on?"

"He's doing his best," Virgil sighed.

"Someone needs to talk to him about this," Selene pushed. "Because I'm telling you, I'm with Scott on this one. I know that ultimately it's my choice to come with you all, so I'm going to put my trust in the people that I know have the most experience and the best grip on the situation, and that is not your Dad. So you can keep me out of Jeff's plans."

"You really are in the most argumentative mood today, aren't you?" John sighed, "but in this… honestly, I can't say that you're wrong."

#scott tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015

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fallenfurther · 5 years ago

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FabFiveFeb - Virgil

Finally managed to finish this little one. Though I feel sorry for Alan, I fix him up only to whump him again.

The prompts used: hard, yesterday and “I’m trying!”

******

The aftershock dissipated as Virgil ran into the building. People were trapped on the fourth floor and he had been assigned to rescue them. Virgil jumped up the stairs, the Jaws of Life making the leaps effortlessly. He was on the fourth floor in no time and looked around. They were trapped in a meeting room with only one exit. Virgil took a left only to jump back. There was a hole in the floor, a steel re-enforcement beam had fallen through and take out the floor. Virgil was perplexed. This isn't the sort of thing that should happen. His knowledge of building structures was incredible thanks to the many rescues, and he had kept the knowledge fresh as it came in handy too often. He knew this shouldn't happen. Though whatever the cause, the beam was blocking a door. Virgil eyed up the other side. It should hold. He took a few steps back and took a running leap at the gap. He landed it perfectly. Virgil carefully headed to the door and knocked.

"Hello? International Rescue."

"Hello! We're in here!" A muffled voice replied, "Help us!"

"I'm going to get you out of here. Stand back from the door. I'm going to remove the blockage."

Virgil eyed up the long chunk of metal in front of him. He slipped his hand out for the Jaws of Life and slipped his laser up and onto his shoulder. With the other claw he gripped the beam and braced it. He turned on the laser and cut the beam. As it severed, the bottom half fell through the hole it had made and took a little of the floor with it. Immediately, Virgil slipped his hand back in and grabbed onto the bottom part of the beam, taking all its weight. Virgil carefully adjusted his footing, very wary of the weakened floor he was standing on. Making sure the grip with his left claw was firm he slipped the right one up the bar. He now had it firmly in his grip and could try and guide it slowly out and down the hole.

Virgil was steeling himself when the next aftershock came. He braced his body and heard exclamations from the other side of the door. He felt the shaking through his whole body and there was nothing he could do when he felt the floor under his left foot give way. The next moments happened in slow motion.

Virgil tipped as his centre of gravity changed. The bar slipped down with him as his body started to fall through the gap. The beam pushed him down and his right leg jarred as it slammed against the floor, the exosuit keeping it straight. This tipped Virgil sideways, so he was falling headfirst into the depths of the building. Adrenaline and fear mixed together as he fell. The beam slipped out his grip as his hold on the controls loosened. Virgil watched as the last floor came into view. He was heading straight for the other half of the beam. He tried to brace. He tried to prepare for the exosuit to take the brunt, but the four floors were not enough time to react, and he landed hard on the metal beam. It was lying diagonally in the opposite direction to his baldric, and it slammed into his ribs and stomach knocking the wind out of him. His helmet slammed against the floor. Debris landed around him, but it was the beam he had been holding that did the most damage. It fell, laser cut end first, into his lower back. The exosuit was designed to protect his spine but there was only so much force it could take. Virgil felt it warp under the impact and it sent a sharp pain up his back and he let out a cry. The beam then fell against the first floor raining more debris down on top of Virgil before joining him on the ground.

Virgil stayed very still. He knew the risks of spinal injury, and the seriousness of it. He gathered his breath and tried to move his head so he could see his communicator. This came to nothing as something was lying against his helmet, pinning it to the floor. Virgil focused on his breathing again. He knew he needed to stay calm. He needed his brothers. He needed International Rescue. Carefully, Virgil slipped his left hand out of the Jaws and reached for where he believed his right wrist was. As Virgil reached for his com, ready to give John an update on his situation, Scott’s commanding voice burst into his ear, transmitting to everyone.

“The buildings are collapsing on each other. It’s too dangerous to continue. Everyone, back to the Thunderbirds. We’ll continue when the aftershocks have stopped.”

“FAB.” Gordon replied.

“FA…” Alan started only for a scream to finish the acknowledgement.

The scream sent a dagger through Virgil’s heart. It was a pained scream, one that meant Alan was in trouble.

“Alan!? What’s happened?” Scott’s worried voice came

There was no response. The silent com brought back memories of watching Gordon test the hydrofoil. They had all been excited to see their brother try out the new technology and WASP had allowed Dad, Scott and him to watch. It felt like only yesterday that he had almost lost one younger brother. They had lost communication with Gordon then. They had waited in anxious silence for the stationed WASP teams to rush in and grab Gordon out the water; the senior WASP personnel running around them. Virgil had felt the world stop that day. This felt ever so similar. A weight grew in his stomach.

“Gordon, you’re with Alan, right? What’s happened?” Scott’s voice demanded.

“The building came down. He was behind me.” Gordon responded, a worried edge to his voice.

"Can you get to him?"

"I'm trying!" Gordon replied with a grunt. "I'm trying!"

A sigh came from the aquanaut. "My leg is pinned. I can't move. I can't get to him."

"It's alright, Gordon. I'm coming. John, give me their locations. I'm going to get them."

Virgil still had his hand reaching out to his wrist com. He put his hand down and sighed. He couldn't make Scott choose. Not between Alan and him. So, Virgil lay where he was. Hoping that Scott could get to Alan in time.

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #injury #alan tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #rescue #brother in trouble

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withastolenlantern · 4 years ago

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A million thoughts raced through the detective’s mind at once. Her initial reaction was to lunge for him, to grab his throat in her hands and squeeze until his lips turned blue and the life drained from his eyes. But she couldn’t, not here in the middle of a crowded ballroom; and more to the matter, she wasn’t sure that’s what her father would have wanted, or if it’s even what she wanted. In the years that had passed she’d pictured this moment many times, envisioning multiple scenarios of public humiliation, or private torture, or a combination of both. No form of retribution seemed too severe, nor completely appropriate.

The exercise had always seemed a fantasy, though, and she’d always had the luxury of imagination without the restraint of practicality. At no time had she ever expected to be face to face with the man, and certainly not in a context where the only ones surrounding them were a coterie of socialites who could do nothing to stop any force she might perpetrate. Now, presented with the actual situation she’d practiced thousands of times in her head, she was confronted by the multitude of possibilities and found herself frozen with indecision. A myriad of voices trapped inside her all screamed furiously forward various iterations of fight or flight, scream or sob, and trapped behind all of them a single, mournful image of her father’s casket draped in a flag.

Instead, she breathed deep and long, steadying herself with a pull from her glass. The color and warmth still flushed her face, her knees weak, her head swimming; anyone looking hard would no doubt recognize the inner conflict, no matter how subtle. She’d been here many times before- on helicopter approaches viewed through thermographic optics, on night watches overlooking rural Pakistani villages… and propped on an aluminum folding chair at the rear of a South African funeral parlor. It was, in many ways, her nature; not by choice or inclination but necessity.

The detective swallowed her pride deep through gritted teeth and offered a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, no. Detective Inspector Chatham, His Royal Majesty’s Enquiry Service.”

The man took her hand with a gentleness she hadn’t expected from a veteran of the Commonwealth’s military campaigns. Her recollection was that Travers had been an aviation mechanic before he’d moved into the intelligence service, and then Internal Security. She suspected that the military posting had been purely performative; his father was the Viscount Hulmeville, a title that would some day pass to him. The family was old aristocracy, running back at least to the Victorians; they’d owned a slew of coal mines in Yorkshire, and when the demand for fossil fuels had dried up they’d made another fortune converting and leasing the land for agricultural use. The current Viscount’s son had likely been long groomed for a position in the Government, and it came as no surprise to Chatham that he now held a seat on the Consortium’s Board. Like always does seem to attract like.

“Sir Roger Travers,” he said flatly. If he recognized the detective at all, he didn’t show it. They’d had an official military funeral for her father, but only her mother had attended. She’d been too overcome with grief to handle the cameras and the pageantry over an incident she’d always felt could have been avoided. The then-Minister had offered token condolences to her mother, and thanked her for her father’s sacrifice. Days later Chatham had seen him making rounds on the news circuit, defending the Service’s use of force and decrying the “rioters and terrorists” for forcing his hand. Evidently he’d been knighted in the interim, and she hoped deeply it was for some other “service” to the crown.

“The detective is investigating some thefts from our warehouses and fabs,” the Lady explained.

“So I’ve heard,” Travers replied. “And how is your investigation going, inspector?”

“I’m not sure I’m at liberty to discuss that in public,” Chatham countered. She was gripping her glass so tightly that it was at risk of cracking the crystal and compressing the peat in the whiskey into diamond.

Newby-Ross turned and shooed away her retinue of followers with a simple wave, and they disappeared without complaint as if scattered apart by a subtle wind. The detective was impressed at the authority the lady commanded; she may be a member of the peerage but those titles were more ceremonial than authoritative, or at least Chatham had thought.

“Continue, Detective,” she instructed.

“Mum, if it’s all the same, I sent a copy of our report to the Earl, but I haven’t had a chance to debrief him personally yet, and as he’s the head of the Consortium I’d prefer…” the inspector started awkwardly willing herself to be anywhere else.

“Come, come, out with it,” the heiress beckoned, with a tone that indicated she was not accustomed to accepting refusal. “James is in Singapore for at least another few days, and I have full authority from the Board to act as his proxy in emergencies, isn’t that right Roger?”

“That’s correct,” he confirmed, obviously also anxious to hear what the detective had to say without having to get it second-hand through the filters of the Consortium’s management. And so their plan was now laid bare, just as Chatham had surmised. She swore to herself silently, for what must have the hundredth time that week.

“Well, mum, we, by which I mean Mister Santomas and I…” Chatham started, gesturing toward the engineer beside her. If she was going to be dragged into this, she wasn’t going alone. “We visited one of the autofabricators in the Carribean that was reporting a strange status. What we found was quite irregular.”

“They were up and running,” Davis chimed in, accepting his role in the pageantry.

“I thought all of the Carribean units were shut down,” Travers said.

“They’re supposed to be,” the engineer replied.

“What do you mean ‘supposed to be’? I thought these things were impossible to access except by our people?” the Lady said.

“They’re supposed to be,” Santomas said again.

“And what were they doing?” Newby-Ross pressed.

“It appeared they were manufacturing weapons, and some kind of… drug, or something. We found several smugglers inside the loading area but they got away before I could apprehend them,” the detective explained.

“You let them get away?” Travers exclaimed, suddenly very animated. Many in the crowd turned toward the new commotion, but the Lady turned, smiled brightly, and shooed everyone back to their revelry.

“They were armed, sir, and we weren’t exactly expecting a fight. We were lucky to escape unharmed,” she said, frustration evident and a mixture of panic and wrath threatening to bubble to the surface. “We’re running facial recognition through the various Commonwealth databases.”

“And what about these ‘drugs’ you mentioned?” the Lady Swansea continued.

“I don’t know, mum. I’m running an analysis on the chemical structure in the labs, but it’s complicated,” Santomas interjected, perhaps sensing the inspector’s unease. “Chemistry’s not really my area of expertise, and it’s got a weird composition.”

“Is it the same thing you found off the African coast?”

“It appears so, but we are trying to confirm that,” Chatham said.

“How did they get access to the fabs in the first place?” Travers asked.

“I don’t know, sir. We’re still trying to work that out,” the engineer said.

“Well what the bloody hell do you know?” the board member growled.

The detective nearly reached her breaking point. She could apparently handle the subtle discourtesy of being summoned here, forced to bow and dance and sing at the whims of the aristocracy, to hide her anger and hold her tongue, but the disrespect shown for her professional efforts pushed her to the limit. Chatham raised her arm in fury, intending to unload on the former Minister, but as she did so, the Lady Swansea put her hand gently on his shoulder.

“I’m sure they’re doing their best, Roger,” she chided him quietly,. “Thank you, Detective, for your efforts. I have the utmost confidence you will bring these nefarious criminals to justice. I think that’s enough shop talk for today, though, don’t you think? I believe they’ll be serving dinner shortly. Lamb chops I think. Sustainably source from the local farms, of course.”

Travers bristled and nodded vaguely in Chatham and Santomas’ direction before heading off to join the Lady’s original group. The hostess leaned in closely to embrace the detective and air-kiss her cheeks. “I’m sorry about that,” she whispered. “He can be… well. I have faith in you. Please enjoy the rest of the evening. I know James is quite looking forward to your report.”

The heiress turned on a heel with practiced ease, threw her hands in the air in exaggerated jubilation, and returned to her original crowd.

Santomas stood sheepishly, not sure what to do or say. “Well that was… terrible. Any other awkward conversations you want to drag me into tonight, or can I go back to drinking myself into oblivion?”

Chatham took a deep breath, trying to slow her pulse and her thoughts. Whatever she was expecting from the moment she met her father’s indirect executioner, that certainly had not been it. But she had survived unscathed, physically at least. It would take a long time for her to process the feelings of fury and disdain that were currently causing her hands to tremble uncontrollably and a bead of cold sweat to run down her spine.

“Yes, Mister Santomas, but only if you take me with you.”

#the world ocean #long post #part 2 #i had a really really hard time writing this section #and it probably still needs A Lot of work

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ashes-and-ashes · 6 years ago

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The Other

Fluff. Enjoy!!

Sirius was thinking about Remus.

He always seemed to be thinking about Remus.

He leans against the railing on the balcony, staring out into the forest. The wind makes the leaves rustle, sounding like hundreds and thousands of tiny voices, the stars shining down on him from up high. The air is cool on his face, soft tendrils brushing against his cheeks and for a moment he imagines that he’s flying.

He closes his eyes. It’s late, past midnight, the common room deserted and empty. It’s unusually quiet, the only noise the tackle of the fire and the howl of the wind. The moon glows softly, washing everything with a silver glow, and Sirius stares up at it.

Remus. He didn’t know, the exact day he fell for him. He supposed it was a building thing, years of friendship and laughter and loyalty and one day Sirius glances over at Remus and felt his heart stop.

He’s never felt like this before, never in his life. All the casual hookups and drunken kisses and one night stands, none of them held a candle to what he felt for Remus.

He’s always been terrified, of falling in love, terrified at the thought. Terrified that he’d give his heart to someone, open and vulnerable and delicate and they’d rip it apart. He was raised in a house with no live, no care, nothing beyond the shredding of skin and he was terrified.

Yet he knew that’s what he felt towards Remus. Love, deep and terrifying, stretching out between them like the ocean.

Sirius bows his head, his hair falling forward to screen his face. His lungs clench, his heart pounding and he needs a cigarette.

He turns, towards the open doors of the tower, meaning to steal one of Marlene’s when he sees him. Remus is standing by the door, one hand ruffled through his hair, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Hey.”

Sirius winks. “Yeah?”

“I...” Remus trails off. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.” Sirius leans back against the railing. He pushes back on it, so that he could sit on top of the stone wall, his feet braced on the wall across from him. “What do you need?”

Remus looks down, mumbles something so quiet that even Sirius can’t hear. He frowns. “Sorry?”

This time, Remus takes a deep breath, tilts his head up to look Sirius in the eye. “How do you tell someone that you like them?”

It’s as if the air has been crushed out of Sirius’ lungs, the world going impossibly dark around him. He blinks, hard, his eyes fluttering shut, just for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“You know.” Remus coughs. “How do you tell a person that you like them?”

Sirius takes a deep breath, chest aching. He wonders if Remus can see if, the heartbreak and devastation on his face, the way the words tore him up inside. He bites his lip, grips the end of the railing hard, mentally throwing up the walls and barriers and masks. “Well...how long have you liked them for?”

He’s hoping that it was just a casual crush, a second glance at another person, but Remus shakes his head. “Ever since....damn. Ever since Second Year at least.”

12 years old. That’s how long Remus has loved this person, 3 long years stretching out. Sirius clenched his jaw, teeth aching, fingers biting into the cold stone underneath him.

He hated himself, that small dark part inside of him that whispered to shut it down, find a way to end Remus’ attraction. A thousand lies, a million deceits, hundreds of ways to convince Remus to love another person. To love Sirius.

He bites down, hard on his lip. Remus has already suffered enough, lost too much for Sirius to risk dicking around with his life. Remus deserved to be happy. Sirius would do everything he could to make him happy, even if it killed him. Remus deserves that, at least.

So Sirius takes a deep breath, relaxes against the wall. He ignores the pain, the horrible, aching feeling inside of him and puts on a smile. “That’s a long time.”

“Yeah.” Remus fiddles with the button on his jacket. “I’ve liked them for as long as I can remember.”

Sirius takes the blow, clenches his hands tighter. He keeps his voice light, airy, even though he wants to scream. “Damn. Do they know?”

Remus lets out a bitter laugh. “No. Definitely not. To be honest, I don’t even know if they’d like me back.”

“Why?” Sirius swallows, viciously tearing apart that little hateful voice in his head. “Of course they’d like you back, Re? What isn’t there to like?”

Remus looks up. “Really?”

“Course,” Sirius says, forcing down the pain. “You’re amazing, Re. You’re brave and kind and hardworking and so, so smart. You’d be the best boyfriend ever.

“Do you really believe that?” Remus’ voice is a whisper. “Do you really think they could love me? Even though....I’m a werewolf?”

Not as much as I do, Sirius thinks. He coughs. “I mean, I’m friends with you and I know you’re a werewolf.”

“But would they....you know. Be willing to love me? Like, actually love, not just be friends with. Do you think they’ll love me, even though I’m a monster?”

I do. God, I love you.

“You’re not a monster, Re. You’re...” Sirius breaks off. “You’re so much more then a werewolf. That doesn’t define you.”

“But - “

Sirius’ voice is firm. “If they can’t accept you for who you are then they don’t deserve you. Done.”

“I don’t deserve anyone,” Remus whispers, his voice quiet. Sirius shakes his head. “No one deserves you, Re. No one.”

Remus just nods, tipping his head up to scan the sky and Sirius risks a glance. The light reflects off his hair, making it glow like copper, his scars a silver. Radiant, a cosmos born out of blood and pain, something beautiful and special and rare. He wonders if this is how they’ll be now, Remus unaware and Sirius stealing looks in secret. He sighs. “So...do the Godparents approve?”

Remus laughs. “Yep. James approves. Actually, James was the one who noticed first. That...I might like them. Lily is a hardcore shipper, but that’s just Lils. Peter is a bit more hesitant, but he supports it. Marlene is over the fucking moon.”

Sirius’ heart clenches, at the list of his friends who all supported Remus, all loved whoever the hell Remus liked. He bites his lip, hiding the pain, trying not to fall apart. Remus carries on, oblivious. “Mary loves them, though Mary loves everyone. Dorcas is vaguely jealous. Both Gid and Fab approve - “

“Wait.” Sirius chokes. “Gideon and Fabian approve?”

“Yep.” Remus gives him a shy smile. “That’s a first.”

Sirius nods, closing his eyes, just for a moment. He nods his head. “Okay. They sound pretty amazing.”

“Yeah,” Remus says. “They are.”

Something cracks inside of him, into vicious, jagged spikes. Sirius takes a stuttering breath. “So...”

Remus shrugs. “I need help. I don’t know what to say to them.”

He clenches his teeth. Get a grip. He deserves to be happy. He deserves more then you. Out loud, he winks. “Okay. Well, what do you love most about them?”

The look on Remus’ face breaks him. It’s love, true love, the type that fills you up until you’re over the moon. The kind that is deep and eternal, the type of love you’d die for. The love that Sirius felt for Remus.

“They’re...kind. So kind. And beautiful and radiant and...well.” Remus shrugs. “They’re strong. So strong. Nothing could ever break them but they’re vulnerable. It’s those moments, those heartbreaking, fragile moments when I love them most.” He takes a deep breath. “And they have these eyes. So clear, like ice - I could stare into them for days. And they’re headstrong and stubborn and so, so brave, braver then anyone I know and....” Remus looks up. “They make me want to live.”

Sirius looks up, counts the stars, anything to keep the burning from his eyes. His voice stays level, though, calm and collected even though he wants to scream. “Well then. Tell them that, Remus! Tell them that exactly. Go and find them, face to face and tell them exactly what you just told me.”

Remus gives him a small smile. “I just did.”

The words echo in his head for a moment. Sirius gapes at Remus. “What?”

Remus’ smile fades. “Oh shit. God, I’m so sorry - “

“You love me?” Sirius’ voice is hoarse. “Me?”

Remus holds his gaze. “Who else?”

Sirius just reaches out, winds his fist in Remus’ shirt and kisses him.

Hard, lips against lips, fingers over spines and bones and muscles. He traces the scars, feels Remus do the same and they fit together so well. He holds in a gasp as Remus traces the edges of the scars on his back, feels Remus do the same as he brushes the raised lines because this it it. There is no other person in the world, no other person who knows Remus like Sirius does, knows Sirius like Remus does, no other person who can trace the scars without stumbling.

They pull away, Remus’ eyes shining, and Sirius croaks. “Me? You loved me since second year?”

Remus nods. “Since I saw you. I always noticed you.”

They stand there, staring at each other, something building in Sirius’ chest. “You love me?”

Remus just nods. “Yes.”

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Reactions (Bit 13)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3a | Bit 3b | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6a | Bit 6b | Bit 6c | Bit 7 | Bit 8a | Bit 8b | Bit 9 | Bit 10 | Bit 11a | Bit 11b | Bit 12a | Bit 12b | Bit 13

We’re getting there ever so slowly. We have some herding of brothers to get through first.

For @soniabigcheese who started this one :D

-o-o-o-

From that point onwards, it was all about family.

Virgil threw himself into looking after his brothers with the same vigour he looked after his ‘bird the five days previous.

There was guilt, so much guilt. He had put himself over his brothers, ignored them even and hid away nursing his own wounds.

Gordon yelled at him about it, but Virgil was focussed on Scott. He had never seen his big brother so down. It was almost as if his fire had been extinguished.

John refused to leave orbit, determined to deploy as much energy and equipment he could into fixing this mess. Virgil let him be. For now. He had plans to later climb up into orbit himself to check on his space brother. He had no doubt the astronaut was running himself into the ground.

Alan was recovering and for lack of a better description, reminded Virgil of a pissed off terrier. Angry as all hell and willing to take on the neighbourhood great dane.

There were words.

Emotional words.

Alan continued to snarl.

But his little brother was now mobile and buzzing around the house in a hover chair. Grandma was keeping an eye on him.

Grandma was keeping an eye on all of them.

Virgil got one hell of a talking to about looking after himself and received chicken soup as punishment. At least he thought it was chicken soup. The cucumber was confusing.

Kayo was simply gone. On the other side of the planet, most likely. Virgil didn’t know exactly where. The few times she contacted the Island, he grilled her on her health status and was ignored for the most part.

Virgil worried.

About all of them.

It hit Scott the hardest. The commander saw it simply. He saw it as failure.

This was their father’s dream and somehow it had all crashed and burned. Virgil regretted his absence in those first days more and more. If he had been there to support Scott...

But he wasn’t.

He cursed himself in every language he knew.

Gordon was almost as much a concern as Scott. The aquanaut was fuming. No sorrow, no fear, just anger. He spent most of his time in contact with various people and Virgil had the urge to ask John to monitor his fish brother’s communications in case he was planning a world coup of some kind.

But as the days wore on the picture of exactly what was happening did become clearer.

The scathing media continued. Jack reported in almost daily, apparently his entire practice had been mobilised across several attack fronts. They were winning several, but the battle appeared to be a long one.

One of the worst moments was when a hurricane hit the Bahamas and Florida. IR was refused deployment, no matter what angle John tried. The astronaut directed calls to emergency services as best he could, even called in a few Tracy favours from the Jacksonville plant of Tracy Industries, their machinery switching to emergency supplies and relief production to help the people in the beleaguered cities to the south, but even that received a rebuttal. The head of GDF communications cut into IR frequencies and demanded Thunderbird Five cease interference.

Virgil had never heard John so angry.

Scott was as cold as the Arctic. “Do as they ask.”

“Scott-“

“Do as they ask!” Blue eyes like ice, Scott’s expression was stone.

So, theoretically, Five stood down.

Virgil was on the elevator within the half hour.

Eos pummelled him with questions all the way through the stratosphere and into space. John had stopped answering apparently, so she was looking for another Tracy to help.

Virgil stepped onto a silent Five.

“Where is he, Eos?”

“Communications hub. I honestly don’t understand, Virgil. Why would they do this? John is trying to help.”

Virgil’s lips thinned as he strode to the airlock that separated the gravity ring from the central hub. John had to know he was there, yet, there was no greeting, no acknowledgement.

Virgil drifted through the lock to find that Five had most certainly not shut down.

His brother floated in a sea of information. Aunt Val’s picture cruised past. Another document with the GDF logo at the top darted over Virgil’s head as his brother threw it across the room.

“Eos, I need the results from breach fifty-nine.”

“Not until you rest.” Eos’ voice was determined. “And now I have Virgil to help me look after you.”

Turquoise flickered in the engineer’s direction. “Virgil.” It was a greeting and a dare all rolled into one.

“What are you doing, John?”

His astronaut brother wove code with one hand while reaching for a document with the word ‘classified’ stamped across its header. “Exactly what you suspect I’m doing, no doubt.”

“John, I thought we had an agreement.”

“You thought you did. I’m only doing what needs to be done.” The coding hand finished something off and with a swipe sent it on its way.

It was replaced with a scroll of information, rapidly accumulating in a simulated pile.

John smiled thinly at it before turning to face his brother.

“What do you want, Virgil?”

If Virgil had been in a gravity affected situation, he would have taken a step back. As it was, he hadn’t gotten his space legs quite yet and was reduced to a half-strangled gasp.

John was ever so pale, his eyes little more than caverns, his usually perfect hair looked limp and straggly, hanging down over his face.

“Have you slept at all?!”

“I’m doing what needs to be done.” His brother returned to juggling information.

A beat and an incoming comm flashed up. “Johnny, Brandy says the orders have come down. The launch is set for next week. We should tell Scott.”

Virgil blinked.

A swipe of his hand and John answered. “No need, Gordon. You’ve just told Virgil.” A pause. “And don’t call me ‘Johnny’.”

The aquanaut startled as, no doubt, Virgil’s image appeared in his office alongside John. “Oh.” A shrug. “Hey, Virg. Whatcha doin’ up there?”

“What are you doing, Gordon?”

“What needs to be done.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Saving International Rescue. After all, ‘saving’ is what we do, isn’t it, Virgil? We don’t sit on the side-lines while people die.” The aquanaut poked at something out of transmission range. “Johnny, you gonna brief our big brother or let him dob us into Scott and tackle both explosions at once?”

“Gordon…” John’s voice spoke of exhaustion. “I will handle this.”

“FAB. Sending you Brandy’s report.” Another document flashed up, this one with the WASP logo at the top.

Hell.

Gordon’s hologram held his stare for a moment before blinking out.

“John?” Virgil put every bit of big brother he had into the name. He wasn’t Scott, but he hoped he was enough.

The astronaut sighed.

“General Strom has commissioned a new rescue force for the GDF.” John waved a hand and an array of aircraft and equipment appeared, floating in the recycled air. “They’ve called it ‘World Rescue’ and on the surface it appears legitimate. Brains is even impressed with some of the technology.”

Brains? Brains was in on this as well?

Virgil eyed the largest ship in the list. It was no Thunderbird Two, but it appeared formidable. “They don’t have our technology.”

John frowned. “No, they don’t…yet.”

Virgil mirrored his brother’s expression. “What?”

Another sigh and John flicked through a series of documents. “Lady Amelia traced the source of the equipment to a project initiated about the same time we lost Dad. It appears that even then, these people had their eyes on us.”

“But why? Running a rescue organisation is not a money-making exercise. We both know that from experience.”

“It is if you are the only one.”

“But-“

A hand caught his shoulder and Virgil’s eyes widened. John was definitely tired if he was reaching out. “Even if they don’t charge for the service, the GDF will gain popularity. Our popularity, Virgil. We have a huge fan following. You know this.”

“But that is just for fun!”

“Virgil, popularity is the key. That list of our weaknesses is also a list of our strengths. The GDF’s popularity has been inversely proportional to ours. We’re stealing their thunder, literally. This has led to budget cuts and a drop in recruitment. They’ve lost money because of us.”

Virgil blinked.

“They want it back.” As Virgil continued to stare, John swallowed. “But that is only part of the equation.” John let go of Virgil’s shoulder. “The call for expressions of interest is a farce. They have a launch planned for the first fleet next week.”

“Next week?”

“To capitalise on our negative press. The world is calling for a replacement service and they are answering.”

“We’re being replaced.”

“By Jim Lucas and Robotics Industries. Eos has found connections between Lucas and Wainwright. Lucas went to college with her. Strond is the only part of this equation we haven’t been able to fully clarify. His is the position responsible for the project funding. Lady Amelia is working on it.” John’s shoulders dropped.

“You need sleep.”

“Virgil, this is important. Aunt Val is in the firing line because of us.” A frustrated sound. “Because of me.”

Virgil drew in a breath. He knew that their Aunt had turned a blind eye for them on several occasions, particularly where John’s fingers had poked into certain pies that perhaps they shouldn’t have. But John only did that to save lives. Aunt Val knew that. She was their support within the GDF and she took that position seriously.

Even Virgil knew enough to know that was why she had been removed from the picture.

Scott had been in contact. Had thrown Jack at her. Tracy money was doing its best to dig her out of the hole they had dug for her.

“She wouldn’t want you killing yourself over this.” Virgil kicked off the wall gently and caught his brother by his arm. “C’mon, John.”

“Virgil, get off me.” John wriggled in his grip.

The holographic display suddenly shut off, leaving the hub a bleak grey. “You’re not doing any more work, John. I have Five under control. Attend to your bodily needs.”

John pushed him away and Virgil let him. A turquoise glare hit him between the eyes.

“I can look after myself.” He glanced at the camera beside the airlock. “Just let me be. Both of you.”

“I tried that and look what happened.” The AI was defiant.

“Eos, turn the hub back on.”

“No.”

“Eos!”

“No! Listen to your brother, if you won’t listen to me. You need sleep and food. Your vitals are a mess.”

Virgil set himself. John could be as stubborn as the rest of them, and as slippery as an eel. “It can wait, John. You either sleep up here, or I drag you downstairs and you can deal with Scott.” Who was just as bad, but John didn’t need to know that.

“Virgil-“

“No, John. Food, then sleep. If Scott isn’t enough of a threat, I have a direct line to Grandma. Don’t think for one second that twenty-two thousand kilometres is enough to keep her out of your hair.”

Turquoise lit on fire. “Fine.”

Virgil wrapped an arm around his brother. “And after we will look at what we can do.”

John just grunted at him.

Virgil drew him closer and led him from the hub.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

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notforconsumption · 5 years ago

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Secret Santa 2019

Hallo @puptart! I hope you’re having a delightful festive season, I’m you’re secret santa this year and I couldn’t decide between writing you some Five/Janine or Five/Sam so here we’ve a little of both. It’s a wee illustrated fic! I hope you like it, and you have a fab December. ✨

Would Janine ever actually let anyone put an exposed flame this close to an important piece of accelerant-run machinery? Probably not, but this is Christmas and dang it these shenanigans will be candle-lit.

---

The darkest nights and the best friends a runner could hope to have. A more-or-less uneventful evening set in Season 5.

You were in the mess hall when the lights began to dip and flicker, mediating an argument between Sam and Maxine over the logistics of raising Sara as a subterranean child. You glanced upwards from your soup, the fluorescents humming as they struggled to stay on. They whirred, then returned to full brightness. There was a quiet sigh of relief from some of the people around you, though it hadn’t slowed the debate any.

“I’m not letting our child develop rickets, Sam.”

“Yeah but, we have supplements! And we can probably grow fruit in one of the labs down here, they have all sorts of equipment just laying about.”

To say you were actively mediating may not have been accurate. It would have been more true to say that you were spectating, and occasionally interceding when Sam’s enthusiastic spoon-waving strayed a little too close to someone’s nose.

“You’re thinking of scurvy. Also, no.”

“I’m just saying that it’s possible. Like, yeah we don’t want to raise Sara in the post-apocalyptic ruin of a secret government facility without her ever seeing the light of day. But we could. Logistically.”

“And I’m saying that you couldn’t logistically make me.”

Sam paused in saying whatever next had come to mind, stalled by the realisation that whatever he said next would be implying that he somehow could make Maxine do anything and that was a dangerous path to tread. You watched, intrigued as to whether he would risk it. To your right, Peter snickered into a spoonful of soup.

“Well.”

“Well?” Maxine asked, victory teasing the edges of her tone.

Sam was saved by the lights suddenly dimming again, and one of strips in the corner blinked out with a pop. The remaining bulbs surged bright before they shut off completely, the hall plunged into a deep, inky darkness. The sort of deep, tangible darkness found only in deep underwater caves and catacombs that wound deep below where people could safely navigate. Caves, catacombs, and Noah’s kitchen. There were a few sharp gasps and more than a few curses and you found yourself on your feet before the change had registered consciously.

Further down the long table you heard a clatter of cutlery being knocked and a chair scraping over the concrete in an aborted struggle against the sudden darkness.

“Tom,” Jody called, soft and calm. “Tom, it’s okay, you’re fine.”

You knocked hard on the table thrice and the anxious conversation that had sprung up petered off.

“It’s probably just an issue with the generator,” you hedged, squaring your shoulders and setting your face into a mask of cool competence. No one could see you, but it wouldn’t help any if you sounded uncertain. “The alarm hasn’t tripped so we shouldn’t be in any danger. I’ll go find Janine and we’ll get this sorted.”

“I’ll come with,” Sam declared from the dark in front of you, jumping to his feet and smacking his knee loudly against the underside of the table. “Shit!”

With a fond sigh, Maxine also stood with a soft rustle from her long skirt. You could hear her tut, and pictured her patting Sam on the arm to console him of his bruises.

“You do that, I’m sure Five would appreciate the help. Paula and I will make sure everyone gets back to their rooms okay.”

You fancied that, were it a little lighter, you would be able to see Sam pout at the amusement in Maxine’s voice. As it was, you concerned yourself with navigating the distance between your seat and the doorway that led out into the twisting halls of Noah Base.

In your memory the open arch was only maybe twenty feet to your right, with nothing between you and it. It should have taken only a few seconds to cross the distance but the dark was so oppressively present that you could have been anywhere in the world and you wouldn’t have known. Haltingly you stretched out your arms to your sides, tracing your fingers across the backs of empty chairs.

An empty one to your direct right. Then a warm presence, your fingers skimmed over the wide plane of their back and you heard Peter breathe in sharply. Another empty chair, another, and the mess in Abel was never this empty, and then another and the end of the table. From here on out it was open space. Not much open space, but it was open and completely dark in a way few things were. Night runs didn’t have anything on this, not when you had the moon and the stars to guide you. Even hidden by heavy cloud those nights were brighter than this.

But there were people relying on you, so you tamped down on the instinctive discomfort and stepped forward into the nothingness.

It took maybe a couple of seconds to reach the other side of the gulf. You actually found the doorway before the wall, stretching your hand out into a space suddenly much colder. Flinching back, you knocked your hand against the doorway and gripped the wall. Goosebumps rose on your bare arms and you regretted not running back to your room for a jumper before dinner.

“Five?” Sam called from a little ways behind you, voice echoing oddly.

“Here.”

“I’m coming! Don’t go without me, it really is very dark in here.”

Sam’s faltering footsteps grew closer and just as you were about to call to him again, lest he trip over you, you felt his hand bump against your shoulder.

Sam ran his hand down your arm and threaded his fingers with yours, clasping your hands tight together.

“I’ve seen enough horror movies, Five,” Sam explained, voice a little breathy with anxiety. “We’re not getting separated, and we’re not splitting up to look for clues. I for one don’t want to get axe-murdered. If an axe murderer could even get past Janine’s defences. But then, that’s the thing about axe murderers, isn’t it. They tend to be a bit on the spooky side and you’d have to be spooky to sneak past Janine.”

“Sam, you’re rambling.”

“Am I? I guess I am. The threat of potential eugenicist megalomaniac attack makes me nervous.”

“Ah, I’m used to it,” you confessed, tugging Sam by his hand out into the corridor.

It was indeed colder out here, the air undisturbed by warm bodies sharing warm food, but your hand where it was clasped with Sam’s was safe from the chill.

Over the months you had now been living in Noah Base you had become rather familiar with its passageways and the odd logic that dictated which way to turn for the labs, for the canteen, for the control centre. But months were still only months, and every day had been lit by the quietly humming florescent bulbs. Without them, Noah was an unknown creature, its vessels and arteries stretching too long and too short in ways you didn’t remember them ever going in the first place.

The sudden unfamiliarity was jarring, though not as you might have expected. Not knowing Noah by instinct wasn’t particularly surprising. What did strike you was how bereft this left you feeling for the places you could, and had, navigated with your eyes closed.

Abel, in December, was a pitch place but even as you expanded upwards and outwards, accommodating ever more people, it was never a stranger to you. When you were restless, you would take to running laps around the inner perimeter of the wall. Weaving in and out of the moon’s shadows, learning every dip and jut of the ground.

There had been other places, too, before the end of all things. But you had stopped yourself from thinking about those a while ago. So long ago that forgetting was as easy as breathing.

Even as this strange melancholy came rushing in, you kept a tight grip on Sam’s hand and half an ear on his nervous chatter.

With one of your hands in his, you felt for the wall with the other and set off with your best guess as a guide. Sam kept close to you all the while, talking himself down from panicking. He had gotten better, you all had, at handling stress and near-death experiences. But this wasn’t just you. Behind you somewhere, snoozing in her cot, was baby Sara. Sam has every right to be afraid, and now and then you squeezed his hand to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

Eventually, it was not you who found Janine but Janine who found you. As you turned one corner the next intersection began to lighten around its edges, walls melting out of the ambiguous darkness into solid form. As you drew closer the light grew brighter, flickering and licking up the walls. Just as you were considering ducking behind a corner (just in case) Janine emerged into the open space cradling a lit candle in front of her.

“Janine! We were just coming to find you.” Sam sighed, tension leaving his body with a woosh of air. You felt his tight grip on your hand relax a little. It was a lot harder to be anxious with Janine present. Sometimes you wondered if she knew quite how deeply she affected her people.

“Sam, Five. Good timing, I could do with your help.” In the flickering light of the candle it was hard to make out the expression on her face. The way the shadows played in loose strands of her hair made it hard to concentrate on working it out.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, refusing to acknowledge the real question you had been contemplating. Is it Sigrid? Are we under attack?

“A problem with the main generator’s output, I shut it down to prevent any further damage from occurring. We still have emergency power propping up the security systems and the air flow but without our main source of electricity we’ll be vulnerable.” Now that was an expression you recognised regardless of how dark it was. The frustrated twist in Janine’s lips she got when something happened outside of her control. “We’ll need to fix it sharpish.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for,” Sam declared. “To help fix the generator, that is. I’m not sure what help I can actually be, but I could pass you tools. Maybe keep you entertained with a good old-fashioned campfire horror story.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Janine deferred, but motioned for you to follower her regardless. “The generator room is down this corridor.”

You and Sam fell into step behind her, no longer feeling a need to fill the silence as she led you down a long passage and through a locked door. You had been here before, in passing, but never for long and never in the dark.

It was a large room, the ceiling reaching higher than you thought any of Noah went, with pipes and bunches of wires strung in haphazard webs that made your head spin to look at. At various points they disappeared into the walls, snaking off through the earth to feed other rooms. In the centre of the great mess crouched the main generator.

The warm light of Janine’s candle painted the dark metal a reddish colour, the oil that kept its moving parts slick made the whole thing look unsettlingly organic. Like there was a great creature curled up down here, hibernating deep beneath the earth, skinless and squat.

You leaned in close beside where Janine was examining the complex metal organ that kept your whole operation bright, warm, and most importantly, breathing. There were perks to hiding out underground, you reflected, and then there were drawbacks. One of which was the lack of readily available oxygen.

“Soooo,” you drawled, unsure of where to even begin. “Any ideas?”

Janine exhaled sharply in a not-quite-sigh and unzipped the bag she had slung over her shoulder.

“Most likely an issue with the fuel supply. We did run the last load Mr Lynn retrieved from the lorry depot through a filter, but it’s very possible that it had been contaminated with something we didn’t catch.”

“That sounds… bad.” You said, trying to gauge the seriousness of the situation by scanning the generator. It continued to look as twistingly inscrutable as it had a moment before.

“Quite, but with any luck I will have managed to stop the generator before the contaminant did any real damage to anything important.”

“What if the dirty fuel did get into something important?” Sam asked, voicing the question you had been immediately inspired to ask, but hadn’t. You got the distinct impression that you already knew the answer.

“Then, Mr Yao, it’ll be up to you and your runners to find replacement parts before we all suffocate or are else driven out of our burrow into the tender mercies of the Minister.” Saying so, Janine began to root through her bag and extracted from it a good few long candles and a box of matches, then pushed them at Sam, who had to drop your hand to catch the whole bundle.

It was only then you realised that you had never let go of each other after finding Janine. If Sam’s quick, flushed glance at you was any indication, he had also forgotten that you’d been holding on to each other for an actual reason. A reason that had evaporated once Janine had appeared with a light source.

You flexed your hand against your leg, shaking out the pleasant tingles that had settled into your bones.

“If you would be so kind, Sam, we’ll need more light and I didn’t want to use up our limited batteries in a non-urgent situation. Even if bringing fire into a room saturated with accelerants is hardly a safe way of doing things. Do be careful where you put those.”

“Oh, right,” Sam nodded, somehow managing to achieve a look you would have described as both flushed and pale, then set about lighting the candles and placing them where they hopefully wouldn’t set fire to anything.

“Now Five,” Janine called to you, holding out her lit candle for you to take, her attention turning to the beast before you. “I’ll be needing light while I take a look at this.”

“Of course.” You said, taking the light from her carefully. It felt a little silly, holding onto a candle, outdated as can be, in a place that once held great minds and greater crimes against science. Quaint in the face of overwhelming human hubris. You almost wanted to share this with Janine, but she had knelt by the generator and bent her full focus towards it. She probably wouldn’t have appreciated the interruption.

You crouched beside her, tilting the candle to give her the best light while not dripping wax anywhere vital.

Janine set her bag of tools on the floor and went straight for what you guessed was the fuel tank. It was a bulbous thing, set deep into the body of the machine, held in place by a ribcage of metal. You watched as she unscrewed a plastic cap and sniffed critically at the fumes that escaped. Her nose wrinkled, almost delicately. Only Janine, you thought, could be so hyper-competent as to be able to smell anything informative in petrol fumes. To you it smelt an awful lot like sticking your nose in the filler neck of a car.

“As I thought.”

“Oh?” Asked Sam.

“The fuel must have separated and the bacterial growth in the condensation is reacting with the elevated temperature of the generator’s fuel tank.”

“Mmhm.” You hummed.

“With luck, whatever residue its produced hasn’t done anything worse than clog the filters, we’ll have to drain the contaminated fuel and with luck have the lights on within the hour.”

“Good work, team,” Sam said, watching as Janine unwound a couple meters of plastic pipe she had somehow stuffed into her bag and directed you to fetch an empty jerry can from the other side of the room. “Great teamwork. I, for one, am glad to be a productive and useful member of this team. This fixing-things team.”

Janine paused in what she was doing, fixing Sam with a look over her shoulder.

“Don’t you think you ought to go check on the others? While I have every faith that Doctors Myers and Cohen are cool-headed individuals, they may thankful that we’re not all about to be killed.”

Sam blinked at her, eyes wide. “Oh? Oh. Oh! Yes, yes of course. Let me just grab a candle and I’ll be on my way, you’re right, the others will be worried.”

“Quite.”

“Right, yes,” Sam had stooped to pick up one of the brightly burning candles and half turned to leave. He paused, giving you a little wave which you returned, before reluctantly turning his back and vanishing into the deep dark.

Messenger dispatched, Janine turned back to what she was doing and brought the pipe to her lips, hollowing her cheeks around it and sucking sharply. For a moment she held it there, then swiftly she shoved the end into the jerry can. Barely a second after, petrol began to gush into the empty can, a noise near deafening in the quiet, echoing room.

“There,” Janine declared, job evidently done.

“You just didn’t want Sam to see you get a mouthful of petrol if you messed that up,” you said, and though you were half-joking the baleful look Janine sent you spoke volumes. You grinned back at her, unable to not, and her face twitched in what was a herculean effort not to pout.

After a beat, you decided to be merciful and move on. “What now?”

“We wait.”

“Oh.”

“Quite,” Janine said, standing only to sit against the wall, her eyes trained on the petrol coughing and spluttering into the can. “Hand me that rag, would you, Five?”

You tugged what might have once been a shirt sleeve from an overhead pipe and handed it down to Janine who used it to wipe as much of the excess oil of her hands as she could. These days it was rare that any of you ever got properly clean. Noah was better than being in the camper van, and infinitely better than that week where you had all hidden out in a landfill site, but still. Water was a precious resource and it startled you to find you had gotten used to having it. Abel was far from perfect, but it had been getting better every day, reclaiming old amenities one at a time.

Despite everything, you had continued to build, all of you. A legacy, one that had been taken from you. It was hard to think about.

Instead of thinking about it, you came to slide down the wall and sit by Janine, your knee brushing against her ankle.

“It’s sort of appropriate,” you said, your own train of thought prompting you to break the silence. “For all the lights to go out today.”

“How so?” Janine asked, her brows pursed just-so in a way difficult not to find endearing. It wasn’t a frown, not quite, but a curious sort of confusion she got when she didn’t quite follow.

“It’s the winter equinox. Darkest day of the year.”

“Oh,” Janine said. Then, “you’ve been tracking the days.”

“It helps.” You said simply, and simply enough it did. When your mind wasn’t always just yours and you couldn’t always be sure who was making your decisions, it sometimes helped to keep track of something empirical. Something that wasn’t just a matter of your perception. Sometimes it was just December the 22nd, the shortest day of the year, and that was that.

“I can see how it would.” Janine said, slow and careful in the way the told you she recognised that this was a coping thing, but she wasn’t sure how to address it. “Help, that is.”

“It’s good to have something solid.” You told her, suddenly filled with the desire to share. There were few other people who could understand like Janine could. Maybe Tom, but he had Jody, and maybe Peter, but he was a contrary prick on purpose. Janine, though, the two of you shared something unique. Something you wanted to continue to grow.

“Something no one can take from you.”

“Exactly! We’ve lost so much, so many of our friends. People keep taking things from me, from us, but so long as I have something I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” The words and your breath left you in a rush and you slumped as soon as you’d pushed them out, as if they’d been holding all the tension inside, wrapped around your ribs. Your head lolled to the side, coming to rest on Janine’s shoulder. She let you rest there, and that meant more than words could.

For a short while there was only Janine’s soft breathing by your ear and the metallic gurgling of the contaminated fuel draining into the can. It was a strange sort of peace, an odd time and place to find it, but you realised that you didn’t mind. Your sense of normalcy was a little tilted these days after all. This evening was an island, one of the steady banks that rose out of the sea of uncertainties for you to cling to when things became stormy.

It would keep you safe, you thought, even as Janine spoke up again.

“I’m glad. I’m glad, Five, that you can talk to me about these things. And that I can talk to you about them, too.” Janine wasn’t really a person who waivered, but this was clearly a struggle to say. It was one thing to have an unspoken, wordless connection with someone. It was something different, something miles more difficult, to face that person and make sentences out of feelings.

It was something that the Janine of a few years ago probably couldn’t have done, or certainly wouldn’t have. And this, more than anything she had achieved, made you so, so proud of her that the bright feeling she lit in your chest threatened to burn you to cinders.

“Of course,” you said, and had to pause to cough the tightness in your throat away. “I trust you, Janine. With everything.”

“That means a lot, Five. Especially after some of the failures that have brought us here.”

You snorted. “What failures, Janine? The government being evil isn’t exactly your fault.”

“I know, I do. It’s just that I have made mistakes, and now we’ve been driven from our home by the very people we were supposed to stop. I just want to be someone you can rely on. All of you, I mean.”

“Well, I’m sure I speak for all of Abel when I say I am almost too comfortable relying on you.”

“All of Abel?”

“But of course,” you grinned, a touch of mischief creeping into your words. “In fact, I’m so comfortable around you that I’m pretty sure I could fall asleep right here.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Leaning against Janine’s warm shoulder in the flickering candle light was making you a little sleepy.

“Really now?” Janine asked, tone dry.

“Yep. I’m just gonna take a nap right here.”

“Five, we do still have to get the generator running again.”

“Nah. Comfortable.”

“Runner Five.”

“Can’t hear you, Janine, I’m asleep.”

Janine huffed a sound that may have been a sigh, may have been a laugh.

“You are terrible.”

“True, but I am also your favourite.” You said, unable to not.

“Mmhm,” Janine hummed, neither saying yes or no, but you could hear the smile in her voice and that was more than enough.

#rip sorry about the bits of blue paint?? apparently it got on my sleeve??? im sorry i was chilly #but i hope you like it!!#it got a bit wordy but!#zombies run #zr secret santa #zrs5 spoilers #sam yao #janine de luca #runner 5

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skamamoroma · 5 years ago

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What do you think of season 5 so far? I’d love to hear your thoughts! Sending lots of love to you meg for always being a light in the Skam fandom

Ah thank you, love! ❤️ that’s so kind of you

Oh I love it. So far! (Always cautious hahaha)

I am so damn impressed, honestly. So far, I really don’t have anything negative to say, not that I focus on that anyway. I don’t have any concerns. I am just 100% with Arthur, really really enjoying every moment and if they continue how they’re going, this season has the potential to be one of my favourites from the Skam universe

I mean, everything is great so far. They’ve really thought about the topic and the story. You can tell they’ve researched well and are taking the topic seriously. I’ve read multiple lovely posts by HoH or D/deaf folks who are impressed and happy with how the topic is being handled and that’s so very important. I learned BSL for a long time to help me communicate for a specific role I had and I have experience with the Deaf community and it was a total joy in my life so I love that there is so much respect here

Arthur is an interesting dude. He’s a bit of an enigma! He’s sweet and funny and silly and yet also sassy and bold and a little rebellious. He’s snappy and can lean towards anger sometimes. He’s a truly great friend and loves people hard, plus he’s nerdy as hell. He’s sarcastic too and I am always soft for sarcastic souls. I wasn’t initially sure about Arthur as a choice for s5 despite thinking it was genius to choose an original character but I am absolutely thrilled they chose him because he’s a great mix and he’s interesting!!

There’s intrigue. Skam needs mystery and a little drama. It needs the audience to be curious and involved and wanting to know more about the main. There’s plenty of that: with Arthur’s dad, with his hearing loss, with the new folks he saw at the swimming pool, with how his friends will react to stuff, with Alexia, with his future dreams...

The acting is stellar. So far, Robin is impressing the heck out of me. He’s moving and made me tear up but he also unsettles me and then two seconds later I’m wanting to squish him he’s so cute...! Perfect as a main Skam character!!

The cinematography and the quality is clearly incredible. It looks like they have more money and a lot of the camera work seems so considered in a way it hasn’t before (to the same degree anyway). There are some folks who aren’t keen on Skam France’s more cinematic style but I’m a fan (I like how all the remakes bring their own style) and this season seems so polished so far. Those shots with Arthur in the snow, for example, were just so so beautifully done, and the swimming pool scene. Plus, clips are coming regularly!!! It feels kinda like wtfock... I don’t feel starved for content because stuff is so regular!

The music is improved too! We had an actual SONG 😂 in Skam France! Hahaha. They clearly have a little more money.

The new characters of Arthur’s mamma and dad are great and they fit well. There are more new characters to experience but if they are introduced as seamlessly then they’ll be fab. I love that they created such dynamic socials for them and that they clearly come as a pair. It’s going to be cool getting to know them!

The social media for Skam France, I always enjoyed. Yeah some of it wasn’t ideal like the 5000 shots of Eliott and Lucas from one day where they didn’t change their clothes 😂 but I found the Eliott stuff to be so fun and immersive from s3 and it’s clear they appreciate the social stuff and have fun with it and it seems they’ve stepped up their game! It’s even added to the show aka the insta story the other day which Skam France never used to do

There are some truly GORGEOUS details. They’ve taken the time and passion they have about these characters and added those Skam-esque details which are, for me, so important. Like Arthur’s calendar where he’s clearly crossing off the days he can’t hear (it hasn’t even been mentioned in the show but they keep making a point of showing it), the stuff in Eliott/Lucas’ apartment which is even furthering their story despite them being background characters, Alexia’s room with the little pride flags and her lovely creative personality...

And lastly, the relationships and group dynamics. With any season, there’s always that frustration the audience have when the show runner has to try to develop or introduce stuff for other characters while telling the story of the main. Some remakes/seasons have done it very well (I felt Wtfock s3 really did that quite well) and some hardly do it at all (skam it tend not to do it much as their POV is so strong) and some make a point of doing it (Druck) etc. Skam Fr always had a few issues in the past especially during Lucas’ season where it didn’t flow as nicely as it could have (some moments did aka Manon and Lucas on the sofa when they cried together) but some were so shoehorned sadly. This season, those group moments and the time given to other characters hasn’t felt forced. They’ve used screen time to add in hints and moments rather than dedicating huge clips to stuff (which may change but I’m talking so far). Audiences are intelligent. We’ve picked up on Daphne’s behaviour, we got info about Eliott in a really organic way which involved Arthur, we see Lucas in his newfound confidence and relationship through socials and as were spending time in his new home, we’ve got background of Imane and Sofiane showing they’re good but also adding in Imane’s future intentions etc! All of that was done withou really taking any significant time of focus away from Arthur.

Not to mention the group dynamic feels tighter and more meaningful. Early on, I had such an issue with the Skam France boys as a group. I mean, after Skam It and my love for those boys, I felt they had so much to work with and during Lucas’ season I struggled with them all... but over time I think they’ve got to grips with who they are and how they connect and I genuinely believe their friendship now. I see their different dynamics within the group, I understand why they’re close, we’ve seen them learn and develop... they feel cohesive and warm. Eliott is now included which is a so lovely and he adds something different too... and then we have Alexia more prominent who, as a remake of Chris, had the potential to be the comic relief but I’m so so happy she isn’t and she is being treated with love and care and given depth.

I’ve made posts about this but because of the history and shared experiences between the characters, they really do feel much stronger and I have a real sense that I know them... so you come to this season already feeling you know how they’d react and what they’d think and you know they’ve got new perspectives due to their own experiences... and Skam Fr appears to be running with that and not taking them backwards which I am SO PLEASED about.

Plus, that glorious POV shift always changes a few things and because of it we see a few really interesting things. We see Alexia in a new light, we see how important Lucas is to Arthur, we feel fond of Basile because of his love for Arthur, we see why Arthur always had that sunshine response to his friends and their successes - because they’re his safe space and his source of peace and happiness and brightness. We saw that all over his face in the warehouse when he was being cuddled by them.

All in all. I’m a little stunned at how great it is so far. I’m remaining cautious because who knows but I am giddy that this is a new and original season and so far looks like it’s working so damn well. I love it a lot and I think the over-riding feeling is the love that the show has for the format, the characters, the actors and the stories... I have a feeling this is David’s influence. He gives a shit. He cares. It really shows ❤️

#skam france #sorry this is so long #read mores done work on phones!#thoughts etc #arthur broussard #sf s5

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