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hebuiltfive · 1 year ago

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Loving your stories and couldn't resist sending a prompt.

Conversationalist: character rambles in their sick state.

My absolute top trope. Gonna ask for John, but will accept whatever the muse decides.

I'm still slowly working through the last half of these prompts 😬

Sorry for taking so long! This one is about John, it's just with Gordon as the POV. I hope that's okay! It also ended up taking a darker turn than I'd first anticipated... still, I hope you enjoy it, @sofasurf!

Conversationalist (feat. John)

The fever had taken a hold during the night and had so far refused to let him go. Long, drawn-out bouts of shivers and sweaty delirium had kept both of them from getting a good night’s rest. Gordon tried not to think about the consequences of that, pushing the worries to the recesses of his mind until he needed to give them contemplation.

Nothing about their current predicament had him holding much hope. Gordon wasn’t usually one to lose faith so easily, however having a sick brother stuck in the middle of the Outback with no way of being able to help him was apparently was the key. John wasn’t even supposed to be out there with him; it was supposed to be Virgil… God, how Gordon wished their resident medic was with them now.

Virgil would have seen the signs.

Virgil would have known what to do.

Virgil wouldn’t have allowed John to get this bad.

Gordon had often sat with and tended to his brothers during moments of sickness before plenty of times, but this was different. He was alone, with a delirious John, in the middle of nowhere, with his already very limited medical kit running out of supplies fast. They’d managed to get through one night, but Gordon feared what would happen if he couldn’t get John some urgent medical assistance soon.

He took a deep breath, trying to will those fears back into the box they had escaped from once again.

Worry later.

The call he had tried to make several times over the course of the night had been a wasted effort. It wasn’t because they were in the middle of nowhere — their comms systems operated even in the more remote parts of space — but because his radio had been damaged during the ensuing fight that had followed dinner. If Gordon hadn’t lost his temper in such an uncontrolled way when that shot was fired towards John, he may have fought better. Remembering the fight reminded him to get his ribs checked when they next had access to medical equipment; he was certain there were a few cracked, if not broken, bones. But that didn’t matter. He came out of it unscathed compared to John.

Gordon hoped Tracy Island picked up his SOS. All he could do was hope, given he had no way of receiving transmissions anymore, but given the fact that he’d already begun to lose that optimism… It wasn’t looking good.

John’s clammy hand squeezed around Gordon’s, bringing the aquanaut back to the present again. His eyes were still closed, no trace of the green Gordon longed to see, but chapped lips began to move. He didn’t dare check on the wound on his brother’s side, too scared to see the infection and thus make any of these last few hours real. Gordon knew that burying his head in the sand wouldn’t help the situation but he still couldn’t bare it.

They’d run out of water in the early hours. Gordon had shared his rations with John, encouraging his brother to take small sips whenever he thought he was able to. It was clear by John’s hoarse voice that he was still in need of more.

“S-S-Sorry… I…. Sor-Sorry.”

“It’s alright, John.” Gordon pressed the back of his hand to John’s forehead, ignoring the hair that sweat had adhered to his skin. His brother was still too hot, but without more water the rag used to cool him down during the night was useless. “You’re going to be okay.”

“C-Can’t… Can’t do a-anything r-r-right…”

“No, no. You’re not doing anything wrong. Just… Hold tight. Help is on the way.”

The lie came easy to him. That was the worst thing, Gordon thought. He tried not to berate himself over it. What else was he supposed to say to his brother who was quite literally dying in front of him? God, he really was the wrong person for this. Words had never been Gordon’s thing, and, even if they had been, he probably would still have found himself at a loss.

“A-All…. All my fault.”

“None of this is your fault, John, okay? I promise you, none of it—”

“C-Couldn’t save… Couldn’t save… My fault…”

Gordon halted his replies, allowing John to use his hand as a squash toy because that didn’t make any sense.

“F-faster�� Not f-f-fast enough… Broken n-now. F-Family b-broken… and it’s all m-m-my fault.” Tears began to leak from the corner of John’s eyes, sobs breaking through his lips. “S-Sorry… Dad, sorry…”

Gordon’s heart lurched in his chest and he felt nauseating cartwheels being performed in his stomach. If he had thought his brother had been bad with the delirium last night, that was nothing compared to this. At least John was semi-conscious then. Now, his brother was completely out of it. Was that a sign of his system getting worse? Gordon could hardly see how it was a good sign.

“Dad?”

Those green orbs that Gordon had wished to see only moments ago were now visible, but the sight would haunt his dreams for days to come. John’s question had been spoken with such clarity that didn’t seem to match his eyes. They were glossy and unseeing. The light had dimmed in them. They weren’t as bright as they once were.

He was fading.

And Gordon still didn’t know what he could do to stop it.

“You’re okay, John. Dad’s not… Dad’s not here… Remember? It’s me, it’s Gordon.”

“D-Don’t… Don’t cry…” John continued, clearly not out of his delirious, fever-induced hallucination yet. “Don’t… Can fix it… I-I-I… Fix it…”

For the sake of his brother, Gordon tried not to tremble or let any of his fear show. Whether John was seeing Dad in his place or not, he didn’t want to risk making whatever hallucination John was dreaming up to seem anymore real to him.

“You don’t… You don’t need to fix anything, John. You just need to rest.”

John’s body lurched from some sort of pain Gordon had no way of locating let alone treating. He tried to hold his brother still, but the five inches John had on him made the task difficult. Jackets that Gordon had used as blankets to cover John were thrown across the small space as his legs spasmed out uncontrollably.

“John… John! You need to calm down! Can you hear me? John!”

“Useless… Useless… All my fault.”

John’s self criticism continued in-between painful sobs.

“Not your fault! John, listen to me.”

The scream that followed would remain with Gordon forever. So much anguish held in the God-awful sound, so much agony and distress. He wasn’t sure if it was from the hallucination or from the pain John had likely caused himself by thrashing his body around so violently. Gordon didn’t need to look down to know his brother had accidentally reopened his wound. The stitching wasn’t perfect by a long shot but Gordon had hoped it would have held until help reached them.

If he had the time, or the mental capacity, he would have scoffed at being so foolish.

There was no help.

This was it.

John was dying and in a painfully delusional state, and there was nothing Gordon could do about any of it.

The warm blood that had leaked onto his fingers in his attempt to hold John down, not to mention the tears born out of panic and fear that he refused to let fall in the aftermath of that scream, were a stark contrast to the silent calm that followed.

His brother, who had calmed from his tumultuous delirium, was lying so still that Gordon had thought the worst. The shallow breathes that were still being taken, the uneven rise and fall of John’s chest, had his worst nightmare subsiding for the moment. Not dead yet, just very, very sick.

Whatever had caused John to go into that mini-fit was, for the time being, over. Gordon would have breathed a sigh of relief if it wasn’t for the fact that he sensed it was just the beginning of the end.

He pressed a gentle kiss to John’s forehead, trying to block out the wheezing in his brother’s every exhale, and stood with his comms unit in hand. Gordon may have lost hope in any help coming but that didn’t mean he had to sit down and do nothing.

As long as his brother still breathed, he wouldn’t stop, no matter how helpless the situation seemed.

For his brother, he wouldn’t give up.

So, he exited the small cavern, blinking as the morning sun, already so bright and parching, blinded him momentarily. Gordon lifted the radio unit up, whacking it twice with the heel of his palm.

“International Rescue, please, please come in!”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #ask game #sickness prompts #five answers #john tracy #gordon tracy #five fics

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idontknowreallywhy · 4 months ago

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Resurface 31 - Review

Happy Birthday Virgil 💚 I didn’t get you a present but I finally got you and your brother back on the path to Best Brodom. Just, um, bear in mind it’s just the start of the journey and maybe don’t read the last paragraph until tomorrow?

I hope this is ok, I have agonised because this chapter contains Virg headcanon that is dear to me and I just hope I did it (and his inner voice) justice. It’s probably too long but… well… here it is. Thanks to @sofasurf and @astranite for the encouragement / chivvying / poking with stick to just get this done and out there.

Story so far

They had to start somewhere… literally at the top is as good a place as any, right?

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

“You’ve dyed it! You’ve dyed your hair!”

Scott blushed and his hand returned to his forehead, as if to hide the evidence.

“Uh, yeah… thought I might give it a go…” he cleared his throat awkwardly “I couldn’t find exactly the right colour it was kind of hard to tell on the website… who knew there were so many types of brown, huh?” He paused and grabbed a dishcloth to rub irritably at the gel residue on his fingers before glancing over at his brother. “I mean, obviously YOU would.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. Scott wasn’t kidding, the former greys were a much redder shade of brown than the rest and on close inspection looked a little… odd… but he wasn’t about to make his brother even more self-conscious by pointing it out. He picked up his coffee with both hands and took a long sip to buy himself some time to work out what to say.

“You don’t approve?” The chuckle was more than a little forced.

“You don’t need my approval, Scott. I’m just… surprised, I guess? You’d always swore you’d never dye it. Didn’t you say you’d earned every last one of them and had nothing to be ashamed of?”

His brother snatched up his own coffee and feigned a sudden interest in the view from the window.

“Is no big deal… you were bothered by it so I just sorted it out.”

“I was bothered by it?”

“Uh, yeah. When… the other day when you were really… err…” Scott cleared his throat “… upset, you said so and I figured maybe you were worried I was getting old or… or maybe I was looking too much like… uh, well…”

“I complained… about your hair?” Virgil was baffled. The silver streaks were the subject of much banter in the Tracy household but for a long while had been a part of who Scott was. While in theory Virgil might have said almost anything in his state of confusion, he had still been himself even while his perception of the world around him had been faulty. He just couldn’t imagine being negative about a feature he’d always felt rather affectionately for.

“Well, not in so many words but…”

“Can you remember my exact words?” Virgil knew full well that if Scott had been worrying about this enough to break his avowed hair dye abstention he’d have gone over what had been said again and again and again. And then probably again just for good measure. Sure enough, the response was immediate:

“You said you didn’t want me to be grey. And then you literally begged me not to go grey. So I decided not to. It’s not a big deal.”

Virgil closed his eyes.

Ah.

Sometimes it would be handy to see the world in the simpler, more solid way other people did, as if everything was a hollow photograph existing in straightforward three-dimensional space. He’d never choose to live life without the full range of his sensory experiences and feelings overlaid in glorious technicolour… but he learned very quickly other people, even artists, did not see the same and thus he tended to avoid any accidental references to it.

Obviously he was less careful when he was out of his mind.

He suppressed the sigh and took a measured breath.

Virgil opened his eyes to see his brother had already drained his coffee and was almost vibrating with the effort of maintaining his fake casual stance leaning on the kitchen island. He’d have expected pacing by now except that this was his big brother’s way of showing that not only did he want to hear his brother out, he wanted to reassure Virgil he was, definitely, listening.

He grabbed Scott’s hand which was discharging some of the discomfort via quiet but incessant tapping on the work-surface and interlaced their fingers. The relentless movement continued more softly and for a moment Virgil allowed himself time to notice the vibrations travelling through his knuckles and up his arm and for his mind to quietly acknowledge the subtle shift in rhythm from need-to-explode to need-to-connect. He mirrored it back and Scott squeezed his fingers in response.

“Let’s walk for a bit?”

Virgil knew it was the right call even before the relief flooded Scott’s face and he made a beeline for the door.

They made their way down on to the deck and then up the stone staircase via the roundhouse and took the path towards the caldera.

“I didn’t mean your hair, Scooter.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I don’t think so. I reckon I can explain but you’ll need to give me a minute and try not to be too… literal about it?”

“I can do that.”

“Right.” The path narrowed and demanded single file. Virgil gestured for Scott to lead the way and smiled wryly to himself as the steep incline accentuated the slight height difference between them to the extent that his current view of his brother was very much the waist region. Nevertheless, he could see from the slightly uneven movement of his hips that the leggier man was moderating his stride so as not to get too far ahead to hear.

Ha, he was so familiar with his brother’s body language he could even read his…

“So…?”

Oops.

“Sorry, got lost in my own head there.”

“It’s not a problem.” Scott’s hurried response betrayed his even-worse-than-usual anxiety for a brother and Virgil really needed to fix that asap. But first he needed to sort out the immediate confusion.

“Ok… you know I see a lot more things in colour than most people do?”

“Two makes forest green noise and One makes gold and light blue.” Scott immediately confirmed and Virgil experienced a little rush of warmth at the thought his big brother had felt the detail important enough to commit to memory.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s the kind of thing. Well it isn’t just sound it’s… everything? Smell, taste, heat… and err… kind of… mood? Not exactly mood… um... The way people are? Their personalities, almost?” Virgil faltered a little, desperately searching for better words to form a neat box around the web of overlapping sensations in his head, but it felt much like the time he’d tried to explain to Alan why magenta made his teeth fizz. Some things just… were. Maybe if he tried to tie it to something easier to pin down:

“Ok, maybe the best way I can explain is - you know it was me that picked the colours of the birds? Well, One, Two and Four anyway…”

“I didn’t!” Scott was evidently curious “I never thought to wonder who did.”

“Well, it was me. Mostly. Well a bit. Brains was going to have them all in silver and I suggested that some form of colour coding might be a plan, for easier recognition compared with other organisations’ ships and machinery and bright colours are a more friendly sight for scared rescuees, you know?” Virgil paused to use his breath to navigate a particularly steep part of the track. Scott, possibly misinterpreting the pause for uncertainty sent encouragement over his shoulder: “Makes sense to me. Our public face needs to be unthreatening.”

“Yeah, exactly and in that time just after the… um, well it needed to be clear they weren’t military ships…�� there was a grunt of agreement from in front. “It took a while to decide which would be which colour. For Three Dad picked red because in little Allie’s mind rockets were always red and it was his way of reaching out to the little guy I guess. But it’s not right really, Alan is light blues and bright purple. And of course One should have been primarily Cerulean to contrast with the Maya Blue but he wanted silver to represent speed and so… we had to compromise on her design but I did win with Four because he thought she should be orange, like a life buoy, you know? But I said no - Gordon’s bird couldn’t possibly be anything other than sunshine yellow. John picked his own so I didn’t get involved there but…”

“Virg, you’re losing me a little. Alan is… blue and purple?”

“Light blue. Bright purple. When he’s cheerful, yes. He gets steely blue when he’s angry same as you.”

“So we all have a colour?”

“Yeah. Well, a palette of them. Kind of. It’s… I’m sorry it’s the best way I have of describing the presence you have. Words can be a bit limiting sometimes.”

“Maybe you should try painting it?” Scott‘s voice lifted a little and he was looking at him intently. “I’d like to see us the way you do.”

They had finally reached the top of the volcano and stood together admiring the view to the east. A vigorous breeze, sharpened by the bright metallic tang of salt, dried the moisture from Virgil’s lips and he pressed them together with a doubtful hum.

“I’ve tried before and it didn’t really…” the glimmer of eagerness dulled and Virgil hurriedly sought to breathe life back into it “but I guess I could give it another go?”

His big brother smiled and lit up again for a moment before the cloud crossed back over his face and his eyes dropped from Virgil’s.

“And I’m… grey, then?”

“No! Not usually! You’ve always been blue, like the sky… there are so many shades of it, with hints of yellow or gold…”

“There’s a but coming, I can feel it.”

Virgil grabbed Scott’s hand again as if to reassure himself his brother wouldn’t float away before he managed to express this.

“Sometimes it’s like you fade a little.”

“I fade?”

“You try to be a lot of things, Scotty and it’s admirable, it really is, and you do it so well but sometimes I worry there isn’t enough of you left to be you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re blue when you laugh at your own jokes, or smotherhen us and make a leaning tower of pancake… when you beat Gordy at his own prank game or act all melodramatic when you’re smuggling in the sweets Grandma doesn’t approve of. When someone says pie and your eyes gleam and when you randomly recite Shakespeare inaccurately and out of context or run up the stairs for no reason and surprise hug Allie… those times you’re a rainbow of blues. In the field when you’re problem solving at the speed of light and oh! That time you flew Shadow just for fun you came back shining so brightly…”

Yet again at the mention of Shadow, Scott had startled but recovered quickly and deflected:

“My Shakespeare is always in context.”

“Sure it is, Scott. And it’s very YOU.”

A flicker of resolve hardened his brother’s expression and Virgil was suddenly terrified as to how his clumsy explanation could have been interpreted by someone who was already chronically shackled to the ‘brave face’ impulse…

“But Scott, listen to me, this is important.”

He waited until his brother dropped his eyes from the horizon and met his own.

“I’m not saying it’s just when you are happy, you know? When you’re worried or angry or even sick or even… no, especially when you let yourself be vulnerable for one damn second, you’re you then too.”

“Then…” Scott sagged a little and an edge of indigo desperation coloured his voice “I don’t understand what the grey thing is meant to mean!”

“The grey thing… I guess it’s how my brain interprets the way I sometimes miss you when you are right in front of me. When you get hidden by everything else you think you are supposed to be. You lead so naturally, you do it without even trying but sometimes… sometimes you put on that damn grey baldric and it smothers you.”

“But the baldric is silver. My baldric is silver to match One!”

“It used to be blue though. Blue to match you.”

“Oh. And that’s what is bothering you?”

“No! No, I’m not saying the baldric needs to change. You can have salmon pink or zebra stripes if you like - that’s what I meant about not being too literal about this. I just… I wish you wouldn’t feel like you had to act like someone else. Just… be you, you know?”

A slight squeeze of the hand said message received but Virgil knew it might take a while to process. An unspoken agreement saw them taking the shallower broader path down towards the shore.

“Please don’t say that thing about the baldrics to Gordon, you know he’ll come up with something hideous.”

“He really would. It’d be burnt orange with pink polka dots within minutes.”

“I can just see it now.” Scott facepalmed melodramatically then ran his fingers into his hairline.

“So you weren’t worrying about the hair?”

“No, Scott. I don’t have any problem with your hair. I’m sorry I confused you. I just want you to be happy and be yourself. That’s literally all I would have meant by it.”

“I’m trying, Virgil, I really am.”

“I know. I’m proud of you.”

He really had been trying. Scott’s attempts to reconcile his past and present and figure out who he was again had actually been a source of real joy to Virgil. It had been so long coming.

Years of encouraging, nagging… in all honesty borderline-harassing his big brother to break out of his self-imposed exile from life, to take the opportunities to enjoy himself when they came… and finally, FINALLY there had been some movement. Previously there were deleted emails, invitation cards hidden in drawers… if it wasn’t for Penny’s sake or for the good of the business, Scott didn’t see it as worthwhile. But this time, Scott had pinned the gilded rectangle of card to the noticeboard with a hurried circle around the date and a carefully inked question mark.

It was bitterly ironic that after all that time… even after actually standing over Scott with folded arms and while he messaged his friend to RSVP in the positive… when he’d nearly actually succeeded in nudging his brother into the light somehow as a result Virgil himself had run headlong into the dark. A cold, slimy tendril of fear crept into his heart and asked who on earth Virgil thought he would be if Scott didn’t need him anymore…

He shook it off because it was ridiculous.

Not to mention selfish.

“Scott, I’m sor….” he began but his brother had not been party to the developing inner monologue and was still some way behind him, despite leading the way off the rocky track on to the beach.

“So I can get rid of this?” He gesticulated irritably at his own forehead

“YES, Scooter.”

“Thank heaven, I hate it. Will it wash out?”

“Eventually. I have to top mine up every few washes.”

“Yours literally obliterates light particles though.”

The affectionate shoulder nudge was brief but it heralded a return of the easy natural proximity he’d missed so badly. His brother was back by his side and Virgil realised with a shock that breathing was suddenly effortless again.

There were other things they needed to discuss, difficult things he knew were coming and no doubt even more difficult things he was still as yet unaware of. But for a few moments, Virgil was more than happy to enjoy the respite of their well-rehearsed haircare banter:

“That’s not the dye it’s the secret ingredient. I told you, quit the super shiny addiction…

“SUPREME shiny…”

“Pfft, you know it’s the same formula, you’re just paying for the fancier packaging.”

“Not true, it’s a far higher quality product.”

Virgil poked his brother in the side of the head “And yet by some miracle, chemically identical.” He made a show of wiping the tip of his finger off on Scott’s shirt while meeting the faux-glare dead on. His brother’s eyebrows said outraged, the sparkle in the blue said bring-it-on. “Ditch the dark side Scotty, leave the slimy stuff to the teenagers and join team pomade. More natural, less greasy. Best tip Dad ever gave me.”

His brother’s flinch was fleeting but sent a shockwave through the narrow pocket of air between the two of them. Scott’s eyes slipped from his, the pocket widened and the warmth suddenly drained out of the sun.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #resurface fic #scott tracy #virgil tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic

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gumnut-logic · 1 month ago

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Lego Volcano (Part 7 and The End)

At this point, it should be remembered that this fic, whcih is now complete at over 11,000 words, originated in a post that devolved into bathing in Lego and how much whumping that would involve :D

This is why fault belongs to @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps. it would not exist without them.

@onereyofstarlight has also kindly kept me on the straight and narrow and all improvements belong to her :D

So thank you to all of the above and to all who have encouraged this little fic, that didn't stay little, along the way ::hugs you all::

this bit is very much M/M because Virgil is feeling so much better :D If that isn't your jam, this isn't your bread. There is also buckets of fluff :D

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

“Do you think he likes me?”

Virgil frowned down at the man lying in his arms. They had thrown some pillows and a blanket onto a fold up daybed and were whiling away a few hours as the sun was setting across the sea.

The Island was quiet. Grandma and Dad were still on Aotearoa, Gordon and Alan were torturing Scott in the infirmary, and, as always, John was watching over them from far above.

His star would become visible once the sky was dark enough.

“Who?”

“Mr Tracy.”

He had the urge to ask which Mr Tracy, but where Alex was concerned, there was only one Mr Tracy. “Scott likes you fine. Always did.”

Alex fidgeted in his arms. “I feel like a klutz around him.” He looked up at Virgil - something that only happened when they were lying down and Virgil was quite happy about that. “I just know how important he is to you and, well, I don’t want him to feel I’m intruding.”

“You’re not intruding.”

Alex looked away. “I’ve seen you on rescues. All of you are special, but there has always been something extra between you and the Commander. There are rumours.”

Virgil frowned. “About what?”

“That you’re telepathic, that you can read each other’s minds and move as one.”

“You’ve been talking to Gordon.” The Fish had been ribbing them about that for years.

“No…well, yes, but not about that. It’s in the fandom. It’s common knowledge.”

“You’re in the fandom?”

Now Alex was definitely looking away. “Well, yeah, been a fan forever, and there are like-minded people out there.” He looked back up at Virgil and grinned. “You are very nice to watch.”

The arm Virgil had draped around his boyfriend, quite conveniently reached his ribs, which were apparently very ticklish.

The two of them tussled and giggled a moment, Alex finding a few ticklish spots in return. But it was broken up when Virgil’s laugh turned to a cough. Alex caught him and pulled him close.

Virgil cleared his throat and smiled. “So you’re a card carrying fan?”

“You knew that.”

“I did.” He kissed Alex’s messy blond hair. “But then, I’m a fan of you, so we’re even.”

Alex snorted, but sobered. “Seriously, it’s important that I’m not…messing things up with your brother…with any of your brothers.”

Virgil sighed. “Alex, you’re fine. Scott approves, and even if he didn’t, you’re my boyfriend, not his.”

“I know. It’s just I don’t want to mess with the magic.”

Oh, god. “You’re not messing up anything. All my brothers are happy for us. It’s fine.” He pulled Alex in close, kissing his hair again. “Especially for me.”

But even as he said it, he knew his man and this was probably one of those bones his brain would chew on if it wasn’t taken away. “So you like math?”

“I’ve always liked maths, I’m an engineer.”

“Well, yes, of course, but that wasn’t engineering math.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s just fun stuff. I play with patterns sometimes.”

Virgil stared down at him a moment. “Scott enjoys math.”

A snort. “I noticed. He can run rings around me. He makes some beautiful stuff.”

“He does?”

“Yeah? Didn’t you see that last result - it was like a field of origami flowers.”

Virgil blinked. “Flowers?”

That earned him a frown. “You couldn’t see it?”

“I could see elegant math. Scott writes a good solution.”

“He does, but it is how he does it.”

“Should I be worried?”

“About what?”

Virgil’s lips curled into a smile. “If my brother has caught your eye.”

“Oh, ho, ho, yeah, right. Mr Tracy is straighter than an Australian railway line.” It was Alex’s turn to smile. “Besides, he’s not you.” Alex reached up and caught Virgil’s lips with his own.

Conversation stopped for a while as Alex made it very clear which was his favourite Tracy brother.

The sun finally reached the horizon and lit up the ocean, coating everything in that beautiful gold only Sol could provide. A gentle breeze wafted off the caldera and wrapped around them, clapping palm leaves and pōhutukawa branches alike.

“Thank you for looking after me. It has been a relief having you here.”

“Next time let me know. I don’t want you suffering in silence. People pair up for a reason.” He cleared his throat.

Virgil brushed a strand of hair behind Alex’s ear. “Okay, I’ll make sure to send the Fish earlier next time.”

“So Gordon is your gopher?”

“Uh-huh.” Alex’s skin was a little flushed in the light of the sunset and very distracting.

“Does he know this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You are feeling better, aren’t you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Alex smiled and his dark eyes glittered in the golden air. “C’mere.”

His lips were soft.

Virgil lost more time.

So very, very distracted.

It was getting dark by the time they bothered to check their surroundings again. The breeze was cooler, and Alex shivered as it drifted over them.

Virgil’s stomach was rumbling - a good thing since eating hadn’t been his favourite activity recently.

Since there was no sign of Gordon or Alan, or anyone else for that matter - probably giving him and Alex space - it looked like Virgil was cook tonight. So as they finally climbed off the bed and began packing up, he mentally recalled what was in the fridge, the freezer, and what could be quickest to prepare.

“Where should I put these?” Alex had the pillows in his hands.

“Chuck them on the sunken lounge. If you feel like a movie we can use them later.”

“Sure.” But Alex hesitated, frowning a moment before, turning to walk inside.

“Alex? You okay?” Virgil had his hands full of blanket and folded day bed, but something wasn’t right.

“Um…I don’t…” Alex was stumbling sideways, pillows falling to the floor.

Everything slowed and Virgil was moving, but not fast enough.

Alex struggled to keep his feet, but one bare foot caught in that damned Lego sculpture and then it was all slow motion deja vu.

Lego scattered everywhere, tinkling on the hardwood floor as Virgil slid in to catch Alex. The Lego volcano exploded in all directions as his body collided with it, arms full of lanky, falling engineer.

Time and speed caught up.

“Alex!”

Shocked dark eyes looked up at Virgil. “I don’t feel very good.” His eyelids fluttered closed. “Dizzy.”

“Alex!”

“Uh…” He screwed up his face. “Dizzy.”

Virgil’s heart climbed into his ears thudding away all sound as he lowered Alex gently to the floor, brushing away stray bricks and cushioning his head with one of the dropped pillows.

Scrabbling to his feet, Virgil dashed across the comms room and grabbed the first aid kit, yanking out the medscanner and flashing yellow light across Alex’s prone body.

The machine beeped, and delivered its prognosis.

Oh, hell.

His shoulders dropped.

Alex groaned and tried to roll over.

“Hey, stay put. You’re sick.”

“Wha-?”

“Thunderbird Five?”

John popped into being in the middle of the room. “Tracy Island, what can I- ? Alex? Virgil, report.”

“Please let Māhia know that Alex won’t be returning for at least another week. He has the flu.” Virgil brushed hair out of Alex’s eyes.

“FAB.”

“What? I have- I can’t, I had all my shots.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“But-“

“Your turn to rest, love.”

“But I have to…goddamnit!”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile through his concern. “You can play math with Scotty in the infirmary.”

Was that a challenged cant to a grumpy eyebrow?

“But I have to-“

“Rest.”

“Viiirgil.” He coughed.

Virgil continued to stroke his hair as both Gordon and Alan came running with a hoverstretcher in tow.

“Not the Lego again?” Alan looked both worried and exasperated at the same time.

As Virgil’s bare foot came down on a very sharp and hard brick while crouching to lift a wriggling Alex onto the hoverstretcher, he only had one solution to that problem. “Yeah, please pack it away this time. I think we’ve had enough Lego this month.” Ouch, he stumbled over another one. “Possibly for decades.”

Alex was muttering something about Erica laughing her ass off and excuses to lengthen his stay on Tracy Island.

Gordon was grinning and agreeing.

Heart still beating just that little too fast, Virgil limped after the hoverstretcher.

New bruises keeping him company.

Damn Lego.

-o-o-o-

FIN

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #alexander sweetapple #virgil tracy/alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #romance

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disappearinginq · 8 months ago

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NINE PEOPLE I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

Tagged by @brambleberrycottage - thank you!

LAST SONG? - If not using the shuffle game from earlier- Soldier, Poet, King by the Oh Hellos

FAVORITE COLOR? - A very specific shade of green you only get in the forest when it's a misty evening after a long rain

CURRENTLY WATCHING? - Brooklyn 99 (for the first time, never watched while it was on, started watching recovering from head wound), The Rookie (first rewatch since they originally aired), Tracker, Will Trent, So Help Me Todd (STILL MAD)

LAST MOVIE? - Ummmm...it actually might've been the remake of Road House with Jake Gyllenhaal?

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? - Savory. All the way. Sweet seems to be a really specific flavor, like there's only sweet, no nuance to it. Savory starts getting into smoky, spices (not just hot spice), etc.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? - Single

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? - non fandom related - photography of waterfalls trying to get the veil effect when it's sunny out by learning to use the new filter I have for my DSLR, and gardening (TIS THE SEASON); fandom related - probably the Rookie, but very specifically, the bestie relationship between Angela and Tim because I couldn't care less about "Chenford", and trying to finish up some leftover fics from Magnum 2018, Deception, and new ones for Hudson & Rex.

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? - There is no way to make this sound not weird as fuck - "will your skull act like an unpierced potato skin and explode if heated in the microwave, or would your ears allow steam to escape"

And nine people? Ummm...do I know 9 off the top of my head....

@amandagaelic @dragonnan @fayedartmouth @batnsons @authorangelita @buckky @altschmerzes @sofasurf @cardcarryingcritic Obviously, only if you feel like it - I tried to go off mutuals so random strangers don't just get a requets of heeeeeeeeey tell me some things, but if you weren't tagged and still want to answer - doooo itttt.

#asks answered #games we play

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tagsecretsanta · 1 year ago

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From @sofasurf

From @sofasurf to @janetm74

My prompts were:

1. Steam.

2. Stripes/striped.

3. ‘Did you have to?'

I think I've managed it!!

DINER

"Yellow car no hit backs!"

The sounds of a scuffle and indignant squawks. John's tone held a warning, "So help me Gordon, if you lay a hand on me!"

"Na ah! No hit backs allowed!"

"Oh I won't hit you."

There was silence in the car as the other four contemplated John's words.

"Man, you have zero chill," Gordon huffed turning to look out the window while Alan sniggered. In the front seat Virgil and Scott exchanged amused grins.

"Remind me again why this was a good idea?"

"Because, Johnno, we have a few days off for Christmas and Alan has never been on a proper road trip." Scott accelerated round a corner causing Virgil to grab at the handles.

"Car not One, Scott! Car not One!"

Scott ignored him catching Alan's eye in the mirror and winking. Of his brothers, Alan was the one who shared his appreciation for speed. The mountain side whipped past on either side of them. "The point of a road trip is to enjoy the scenery not travel back in time." Virgil complained while Scott pretended he hadn't heard him

It wasn't often they indulged in frivolous perks of wealth. When Scott had mentioned their road trip plans to a friend, who happened to also be the CEO of Ferrari, the offer to test drive the new SUV prototype had been more than the speed freak Scott could resist. It was big enough for all five of the brothers to travel in comfort, though Scott had yet to relinquish the front seat to test that theory.

"Right well, remind me again why I agreed to come!" John was prepared to be pedantic. Close proximity to Gordon occasionally had the effect.

"Ah, Johnny, Johnny," Gordon draped his arm over his brother's shoulder.

"Don't call me that, Fishface!"

"Jonathan, Jonathan," Gordon ignored the daggers shot his way, "It''s because you love us and because we promised we'd stop off at that new lab so you can talk all geeky about geeky stuff while the rest of us normal humans go Christmas shopping."

There were sounds of a scuffle from the backseat. It was all in jest however, everyone was in good form and beginning to unwind though, perhaps they were due a break from the confines of the car. Scott caught John's eye this time waggling his eyebrows.

"Now kids, don't make me stop this car."

He then performed another stunning manoeuvre that Virgil felt was more fitting for the air than the asphalt. However, his older brother was, it appeared, genuinely enjoying himself and Virgil would put up with breaking the land speed record for that reason alone.

"I'm hungry." Alan peered longingly into his long finished bag of Doritos.

"Eos recommended a dinner just through the next town. It's about 30 minutes from tonight's stop. She says their page is down, weird, but that she thinks it seems our kinda spot." John peered at his tablet.

"She was right about the motel last night so that works." Scott agreed and the state of the art central console pinged as John sent the location through. Scott glanced at the display, "Just an hour further on. Can you wait that long, Allie?" He caught his baby brother's eye again, meaning clear.

Alan put on his best whining voice, "I don't think I can Scotty. I'm starving. I feel faint."

"Did you have to? Brat!" Virgil chocked out as Scott pulled even more power from the engine. His whoop of delight brought a smile to the faces of the others in the car.

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A much shorter time than it should have been; the five brothers had selected a quiet corner booth of the small diner. It wasn't busy which suited them well. It had some twinkly lights, a small tree and upbeat Christmas tunes playing softly in the background.

John and Gordon made for the restrooms while Scott slipped into the corner and flopped opposite Virgil, all long relaxed limbs. He spread his arms along the back of the seat and let his head fall back against the surprisingly comfortable cushioning on the booth; just the right height for him.

Alan, as always drawn to Scott like a moth to flame slid into the space below his eldest brother's outstretched arm. He said something that made Scott laugh, and Virgil's heart warmed at both Alan's obvious delight in his hero's response and how chilled Scott appeared. Should nothing else happen on this trip, Virgil would consider it a hit for that reason alone.

"Right, I'm starving!" Scott reached for the menus left for them by the waitress. Virgil and Alan followed suit. Each took one and read in silence a moment.

"Um, guys?" Alan had turned to the middle page and was staring at the menu.

"Hmmm?" Virgil was still reading through the appetizers.

"Scott, look!" Alan dug his eldest brother in the ribs. Scott followed the teen's outstretched finger and his eyes widened and he immediately flicked his menu to the centre. Virgil did the same.

‘Thunderbird Specials’ the centre section of the menu had hand drawn pictures of the Thunderbirds One through Four and a slightly inaccurate representation of Five. Each had corresponding dishes.

In a rush? Thunderbird One steak burger with fries and our unique hot sauce.

More time to chew? Thunderbird two- tomahawk steak – great for sharing

Thunderbird Four our famous surf and turf. Fillet mignon and our locally sourced fresh organic prawns. All day breakfast with our mouthwatering Thunderbird Five pancake stack and creamy asteroid milkshake Thunderbird Three our unique coffee triple expresso. They don’t call it rocket fuel for nothing! “Eos set us up!” Alan exclaimed.

Scott and Virgil exchanged looks, “It would appear so!” Virgil said while Scott flipped further through the menu looking for an explanation.

John and Gordon returned at that moment- Gordon bouncing excitedly on his heels. “Guys, you are never gonna believe this.”

“Eos set us up,” Alan repeated lifting the menu to show them. Scott batted it down, checking over his shoulder. “Don't draw attention!” Virgil whispered as the teen giggled a little.

John rolled his eyes at them, “Yes. It would appear this is Eos’ idea of a little joke. I thought it was strange I couldn't see the online menu.” John slid into the booth beside Virgil while Gordon dropped on Alan's other side swiping the menu despite his protests.

“There's a picture of dad and some dude on the wall over there!” Gordon pointed the direction he and John had come.

John met Scott’s gaze and held it a moment, “It’s a picture of Dad and the owner’s son. He was in that refinery fire, remember right back near the start of IR?”

“The big one in Texas Dad fought with top brass about for weeks after?”

John nodded, “Seems Dad pulled the son out just in time with Thunderbird One. There is a little bit about it under the picture.” John’s face was hard to read, memories of Jeff were always bittersweet.

“Really?”

John smiled, “Yep. And it appears the owner hasn't forgotten. Proceeds from the Thunderbird menu,” he gestured the pages open in front of them, “Go to a charity that supports rebuilding in disaster areas.”

“That's pretty cool, right?” Gordon was grinning.

“Yea,” Virgil agreed.

“Way to go, Dad!” Alan said his tone impressed and Scott dropped his arm to pull the teen in for a quick side hug.

“Way to go Dad,” Gordon repeated back his own tone softer with a little something unreadable in it.

Scott simply nodded a soft smile on his lips. He seemed to lose himself in memories a moment and Virgil tapped his ankle gently with his foot under the table causing his older brother to meet his eye. He nodded in reassurance. All good.

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

“It’s pretty cool, right?” Gordon broke the spell. “but if you want the absolute coolest, check this out!” and he produced a bundle of papers from behind his back. “Thunderbird colouring sheets!”

And just like that the spell was broken and chaos descended in the table.

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The food was exceptionally good. Obviously they had to sample all the Thunderbird menu and the argument over whose dish was the best looked set to continue until next Christmas. They had pulled the crackers orbited with their meal and squabbled good naturedly over the tacky prizes and each now sported a jaunty paper crown.

Gordon and Alan had listened engrossed as John and Virgil had regaled them with the tale of the Texas fire with Scott chipping in little details. Dad in action had truly been impressive and John, although he would deny it, was a gifted story teller when he chose to be.

Now a quiet contentment had descended in the group. Virgil sat back, stomach full and observed his brothers. He clutched his Thunderbird Three coffee and allowed the steam to curl up lazily in front of him. It had a pleasing kick though Three’s pilot was still complaining that three older brothers had stated “No” in unison when

he'd tried to order one for himself. He and Gordon, also banned from that much caffeine before being trapped in a car with the others, were appeased with hot chocolate. Apple pie and chocolate cake had also been consumed. Road trips were hungry work.

John was quietly messaging Eos who was delighted her subterfuge had worked while the three opposite him, yes the Commander of International Rescue included, were finishing off their colouring pages. Scott's tongue was poking out the side of his mouth in concentration, a small tuft of hair sticking up from where he’d run his hand through it, as he finished colouring Thunderbird Two blue. The argument had been brief and Virgil had

decided not to sink any further to his level. His own completed green version of One had a festive santa hat in lieu of her traditional nose cone. John meanwhile had been mildly offended by the inaccurate Thunderbird Five option and so was egging the others on in their colour wars.

“I mean we should be pleased they don't have an accurate image of our top secret satellite, Johnny!” “Don't call me that. And that's not the point, Scooter. Here, you haven't used this shade of blue yet.”

The battle between Alan and Gordon had almost come to blows when Alan had finished a red version of Four only to see the blue and yellow stripes the aquanaut had given Three.

John and Scott had added fuel to the fire by appearing to seriously consider the benefits of a respray for each accordingly and much brotherly silliness had ensued. Virgil did however make a note to keep a track of blue paint supplies as John was sneaky when he wanted to be and was watching Scott's drawing with barely concealed mirth.

There had been a hairy moment when the waitress had appeared to recognise them, or at least Scott. He had placed a finger to his lips and his teeth had practically sparkled as he smiled at her silently requesting she not give them away, sealing the deal with a little wink. She hadn’t divulged their identities, serving then with wide

eyes attentiveness; though a napkin with her number on it had been dropped on Scott’s knee as she refilled his coffee much to his surprise, Gordon and Alan's glee, and a murmur of, “unbelievable,” from Virgil.

Pucture complete, Scott looked up and met Virgil's eye. Virgil motioned to the other three and raised his eyebrows, Scott’s indulgent smile matched Virgil's own. Moments like this were all too rare. Scott sat back stretching his long arms along the back of the seat again, content like Virgil just to enjoy their company.

Virgil was called in to referee/ judge the which Thunderbird looked best in the new colour competition that still raged. When he looked back at Scott a few minutes later the eldest’s wasn't looking at them but at something behind Virgil's head, his expression a strange one Virgil couldn't quite read; thoughtful, wistful even? Virgil turned in his seat to see what had grabbed Scott's attention. He immediately recognised what Scott saw.

A woman who couldn't be much older than Scott himself was wrangling a small team of children into the booth by the door. Four boys aged roughly between twelve and four by Virgil's guess, she had another baby, a little girl who couldn't have been older than one in her arms. The baby had blonde hair and was waving a stuffed toy excitedly. He watched as the woman handed her to the oldest looking boy who immediately started to make faces and bounce her up and down, occupying her while the mother helped the other boys out of their coats.

Their excited chatter and the baby's infectious laughter drifted across the diner all clamouring for their mother’s attention as she attempted to answer several questions at once. It was chaos and to the two brothers watching, achingly familiar.

One of the younger boys needed the restroom and he and what looked to be his next older brother passed their booth, heads bent in discussion their conversation just audible, “I already explained, we can't ask for ice cream cos it makes mom worry.”

Virgil looked back at Scott who caught his eye and looked away. Seeming to shake himself a little as if to clear something from his head, Scott used his long reach across the back of the seat to tap Gordon on the shoulder, stealing his second last bite of cake as Gordon moved too slowly to stop him.

“Ugh! You are the worst, Scooter! Remind me again why I let you hang out with me?”

“Because you need his signature to access your trust fund,” John helpfully supplied spearing Gordon’s last piece.

He and Scott high fived while Scott slipped out of the booth to settle the bill.

“Actually ‘bout that...” Gordon turned puppy dog eyes towards his oldest brother.

“Told you, Squid, I am not signing off on you buying a Christmas tree farm in Vermont.” He ruffled the aquanaut’s hair as he passed.

“You have no vision, Scooter!”

Scott’s laugh floated back to them as he made his way to the counter.

The other four brothers watched enthralled as their waitress and another server both jockeyed to serve him.

Scott’s dimples were on full display as he leant in the counter bending his head towards the girls conversationally. Virgil could swear he could see their eyes changing shape to little hearts, “Does he even know he's doing it?” His tone was reverential.

“I really don't know. Sometimes?” John replied folding his arms as the waitress reached across to bat Scott's arm conspiratorially.

“His powers must only be used for good,” Gordon covered Alan's eyes, “You are too young to see this Allie.” Alan batted his hands away, ducking to continue watching the display at the counter.

Judging from the way the waitress was listening intently and kept glancing at the family in the booth Virgil was sure Scott's not inconsiderable powers were indeed being used for good. He didn't doubt for a second the family that reminded them so much of past times would find their bill paid with a healthy ice cream allowance added. People often thought that Virgil was the soft hearted Tracy brother; he just didn't have to hide it so carefully from corporate sharks.

Judging from the way the waitress’ eyes widened slightly as she retrieved the handset from his brother, there had been a healthy tip added to their own bill as well.

As they passed the family, now tucking into burgers and fries with gusto, the tiny girl tossed her toy into the ground. Scott bent to pick it up, smiling at the mother who smiled back in tired gratitude. He flung his arm around Virgil's shoulders as they walked towards the car.

A yellow Mustang pulled into the parking space in front of them and Gordon and Alan looked at each other, frozen like gunslingers at high noon.

“Yellow car no hit backs.”

John beat them to it, walking between the two giving them each a solid cuff to their heads. Their outraged cries floated on the crisp air drawing the attraction of the older two. It was the little things at Christmas really John thought. He hung back slightly watching as his four brothers crossed the parking lot, the sky was trying to snow, a few flurries escaping the black clouds.

“Thanks, Eos,” He whispered into his open Comm before hurrying to catch up with a shout of, ”Shotgun!” that sent the others scrambling to reach the car first.

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#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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mrmustachious · 6 months ago

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@sofasurf said 33

wc: 554 words

snippet: Alan looked at him sadly. “Don’t lie to me.”

[Send me numbers!]

#thanks for the sprint!#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam

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edutainer2022 · 6 months ago

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Can I ask 2 and 10 for the meta asks thing? If you've time and inclination!

@sofasurf, thank you for the asks!

2.Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project.

The ANGST and resolution thereof! I've been really looking forward to do more of the Jeff's return aftermath and the issues (some long predating the Zero-X incident) coming to the surface. It's been a tough time lately irl, I'm very tired and stressed, so I sometimes would get Scott VIBES through uneasy nights that are so sad I often get crying in my sleep and don't remember why. I can't grasp the actual gist yet, but it definitely means a story tries to tell me something important and wants to be told - some aspect of character development or dynamics wants to be explored.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Oh, there's nearly no process. I get THOUGHTS and mull them over. Sometimes I put down notes, but notes - doesn't = fic any time soon. I would hardly ever start writing if the story doesn't talk in full sentences in my head. These past couple of years, because of bombings and blackouts, I almost exclusively write in an offline Notes app on my phone - that's the one device I'll keep on hand and charged at all times.

#methinks i have astronomy #thunderbirds are go #thunderask

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whatgaviiformes · 1 year ago

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Oh, how cute is this!