#thunderbirdes fanfic

[idontknowreallywhy]

Fathers Day 4 - The Other Father

(Parts 1-3)

This one has been brewing a fairly long time. The 3 short sections I posted a while ago form a perfectly good trilogy and we could happily leave it there…but I did sneak in a hint that a certain somebody overheard at least part of the conversation between Scott and his siblings.

And I’m determined to force Jeff to confront his many failings as a parent and make a start on sorting things out with his sons, especially the eldest. Haven’t quite got there yet (of course it would be terribly out of character for me to actually finish the story 🙄) but they are moving in the right direction at least.

It feels a little rougher than I’d like but I haven’t managed to post a whole chapter of anything for over a month and perhaps am a little wobbly on that score but… here goes…

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Jeff hovered uncertainly outside the door to his eldest son’s bedroom, pretending to be minutely interested in the glued crack running down the doorframe through the locking mechanism and out the other side. There was probably a story behind that, an attentive father should probably ask about it… he started to raise a hand to knock but lost his nerve and continued to hover.

Well, truth be told, he wasn’t so much hovering as leaning very heavily on his cane like the frail old man he always swore he’d never be. Certainly not at his age. But he was uncertain (whilst leaning in a solid and definite way) about whether to do the thing he had been so very certain was a good idea an hour ago but about which, NOW… now he was here… at the door… at Scott’s door… he was suddenly deeply unsure.

Jeff didn’t really do unsure and uncertain. That had never been his style. He’d always been blessed with a great deal of confidence in the plans that came to him and that confidence was justified by the fact he usually pulled them off.

Nor was he the kind of man who stood in corridors staring at inanimate objects while engaging in a rambling inner monologue.

And yet, here he was…

It was amazing what eight years of solitary confinement on a rock could change.

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One hour earlier…

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He eased himself down on to the lounger and closed his eyes, trying to fix in his mind the new version of that sound he’d dreamed of for so long - the laughter of his children. All of them. Together. Happy. Safe. The glowing memory of it had sustained him for years. The fear that he might have somehow extinguished it for good had kept him awake in the dark for far more hours than the mundane concerns about food, oxygen supplies…

Survival.

The voices were deeper now than the ones he’d remembered. Not quite so familiar. But still so beloved. They were still his babies. Lucy’s babies. They’d just grown. A lot. In innumerable ways.

Slowly, so as not to overbalance when gravity tugged at him, he leaned over and felt around underneath the seat to retrieve what he’d initially assumed was a piece of litter but now knew with a prescient certainty was going to be incredibly important.

“It was always you…”

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Or sneak around like a teenager. He was supposed to be in bed but he’d found himself desperate to breathe oxygen rich but un-climate-controlled air for a few moments. As the lingering agoraphobia of the depths of infinite space warred with the claustrophobia born of the small liveable portion of the Zero-X that had been his entire world, Jeff had found his heart rate increasing and knew he wouldn’t sleep without proving to himself once more what the sea breeze felt like on his face.

And he’d snuck down the back stairs because they’d hear his balcony door open and come to check.

Then he’d have to explain.

If he explained, they’d just worry.

And today of all days, when the void between what he knew he was and what he desperately wanted to be to them all had loomed and sucked at him so hungrily… Well. How could he ever be their Daddy again if they had to be looking after him all the time? It was all backwards.

It had been so long since he’d been a Daddy. Far longer than the time he’d been stranded. He had been a good parent, once upon a time. Lucy had said so and he’d always trusted her judgment. To Scott and Virgil anyway. With John he’d done his best too, albeit the boy could rarely be persuaded to leave his mother’s side, but they’d had a decent relationship.

And there had been a time he was Daddy to five. Little Gordon chattering away at his knee while baby Alan’s bright blue eyes peered up at him from the impossibly tiny bundle in his arms. Lucy’s chin on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his own… he’d known his place in the world, they were blessed with the privilege of raising these little ones together.

And then she was gone. And somehow everything good about Jeff went with her. Including Daddy.

He’d as good as orphaned them back then, eight whole years before it became official.

Eight more years to regret it after that.

Miraculously he now had his much longed-for chance to make it right. But for all the thinking and regretting and self analysis of those castaway years, he still wasn’t entirely sure where to start. He knew what he had to mend, he knew when and why it had all broken, but not how to fix it, if it was even fixable at all.

And now in light of what he’d heard, he realised that whatever “fixed” was, it might look rather different from what he’d spent all those years imagining.

And if he had been more honest with himself… he’d always known that. He let the card fall open in his lap.

“Still true.”

It was. It was absolutely true. Gordon and Alan were Scott’s kids, in all the ways that mattered. They knew it. Jeff knew it. And for all his desire to compensate for the time they had lost, he knew with absolute clarity he did not want to replace their eldest brother’s place in their lives. He had no right to.

He had no desire to. Not now.

He needed to make sure Scott knew that. His knees creaked as he shot decisively to his feet and he staggered slightly before snatching up the cane propped against the back of the lounger and making his purposeful… alright, shuffling way towards his old office.

He needed to find a pen.

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And so here he was by the doorway, the card tucked into the pocket of his bathrobe, trying to think of an opening line. Some appropriate words to broach the subject.

Jeff Tracy was pretty good with words.

He used to be king of the press conference, inspirational teacher of young astronauts. A dreamer of big dreams that could recruit almost anyone to his cause given time. He was used to being in command. When he spoke, people listened.

Yes, Jeff Tracy could make words work for him. With strangers, anyway.

With family it was different.

Especially with one in particular.

Oh, he and Scott had talked a lot. When he was home from space tiny-Scott had been his shadow, trailing him around with his excited, bouncy hop-skip drinking in all his father’s adventure stories. In fairness some of those maybe became just a little exaggerated by the lure of the warm feeling the admiration in those sparkling blue eyes created.

As time had passed the skip-hop evolved into a leggy teenage stride, precisely matched to Jeff’s own. There was less bounce in it, but the sparkle was still there. The constant reminder to Jeff Tracy that he was admired far more than he really deserved to be.

But then it had all gone wrong.

Part of the problem with Scott was he looked like Lucy. He didn’t resemble her much at all, physically - Jeff’s firstborn was pretty much a clone of himself, everyone said as much. No. It was that he looked the way she had. When he was really looking. Something about the intensity of his gaze… the colour of Scott’s eyes may have been from Jeff but the power of them was all her. It was like facing down a strangely warming X-ray.

Yes, the issue Jeff had was that Lucy looked at him out of his eldest son’s eyes and it made him confused and lonely... and so very uncertain about everything that was important.

About whether he could do any of this alone.

About whether he had got a single thing right since she’d gone.

It had made him defensive and short with his son. And when he snapped at Scott, when the same uncertainty, the same confused loneliness was reflected back at him… that chased her away and replaced her image with only himself and he couldn’t bear it.

So he stopped looking.

And so as Scott took on her role, as his son parented far better than the father had the capacity to manage, Jeff backed away and allowed him to do it. He’d let his teenage son be father to his children while he hid away inside himself and focussed on the things that Jeff had been able to do long before he ever met her - he inspired strangers, he dreamed, he commanded.

And Scott had grown up way too fast. And Jeff couldn’t fix it.

There were some short conversations that came close to the one they really needed to have in the aftermath of the Bereznik situation, when Jeff had feared he’d lost his eldest boy for good. But the important words had got stuck in his throat and he’d had to settle for an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Scott had seemed to feel safer with Virgil present anyway and his second son was incredibly protective of his big brother… of course that hadn’t been conducive to bringing up more difficult topics. Although Jeff knew he could have engineered the circumstances if he’d had the nerve. By the time Scott had recovered and they’d both thrown themselves into the Big Project, the moment seemed to have passed.

So they talked Tracy household admin, school admin. Most of all, they talked about the Project, Scott almost as excited as he was about that. His son admired and encouraged and gently challenged him in exactly the way his mother would have. It worked.

It was comfortable. And Jeff had been too much of a coward to make it uncomfortable.

He’d been home nearly two months and he’d nearly missed his chance again.

Not this time.

He raised his hand once more and let his knuckles fall against the door.

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“Scott?”

“Yes, EOS?” His reply was muffled somewhat by a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your father has been stood outside your door for seven point five minutes.”

Some of the toothpaste migrated to his pyjama shirt. “What?! He should be in bed!”

“And yet he is currently located in the corridor. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Is he ok?”

“His heart rate is a little elevated but his other vitals seem as healthy as they have proved in recent weeks.”

“I… ok, alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

Scott scrubbed pointlessly at the mark on his shirt and headed out of his en-suite towards the hallway door, where he paused and compulsively tidied his hair.

He reached for the door handle then jumped out of his skin as a loud knock sounded inches from his face.

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TBC when Jeff can work out how to start the conversation ;)

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Tale of an Iron-Clad Stomach

Sally Tracy swept into the lobby of the exclusive rehabilitation and physical therapy facility Jeff was relegated to as he reacclimatised to Earth. She was at the head of a troop of four of her grandsons, plus Brains and Kayo, and had a mysterious box tucked under her right arm.

“Good morning, Janice,” she greeted the young woman – dear God, was she old enough to be out of high school? – on reception duty.

“Good morning,” Janice chirped back. “He’s in his room with Alan, they’re expecting for you.”

Sally smiled. “And have they been behaving themselves?”

“Well,” Janice looked a little worried. “Alan has been an angel, but his father…” She grimaced. “Mr Tracy has decided that he is less than impressed with his prescribed diet. He’s been saying…” Janice flushed.

Sally grinned. “I’m guessing he’s been casting aspirations on my cooking abilities.”

The flush turned crimson as the mob behind Sally sniggered and nudged each other. “Yes, Dr Tracy. He’s been saying that as he grew up eating your cooking he had a cast iron stomach and could cope with anything.”

Sally snorted as the sniggers turned into full blown laughter. “So I had heard. And have heard before, usually to Jeff’s detriment.” She patted the box. “I think I have something here that will quiet him down good and proper.”

Janice smiled. “Just so long as the doctor’s don’t find out, Dr Tracy.”

Sally grinned and thanked Janice, before leading the group into the facility.

Hurried mutters behind her resulted in Virgil stumbling – obviously pushed – to her side. “Ah, Grandma…?”

Bless the boy, he was as sweet and as kind as the day was long, and all he ever wanted to do was help, so being sent – as the designated Medic – to challenge her – the Doctor was not something he was going to be comfortable – or subtle – about.

She smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, Virgil. You’ll all find out what’s in the box soon enough. Yes, it is capable of hurting your father, but it has done so in the past – he’s unlikely to repeat that mistake. All I’m going to do now is remind him of that and what his limits are.”

“Ahh…” Virgil was saved from having to find a response to that by their arrival at Jeff’s room.

The door was ajar, obviously waiting for their arrival, so she tapped perfunctorily on the doorframe and swept in, the others piling into the room behind her. Jeff was resting on the bed, laying the pillows of the elevated section, a bolster cushion tucked under his knees. Alan was perched next to him, his torso pressed up against his father, with his knees drawn up higher. They were both focused on the pair of holograms projected into the room: Lee Taylor and Val Casey.

Jeff jolted at the intrusion. “Ma! Boys! Is that the time?” He glanced at the holograms guiltily.

There was the usual chaos as everyone went through the greetings, complicated by the extra two people ‘in’ the room. As the chaos settled down, and everyone settled into their selected seats: Grandma in a chair by Jeff’s other side to Alan, John beside her; Gordon, Kayo and Brains arrayed on the other side of the bed, while Scott and Virgil perched in chairs at the foot of the bed, Scott firmly planted between his father and the door.

“So, Jeff,” Sally began, “how has your week been?” She smiled innocently. “Is the food good?”

Val flushed and began making her excuses, and not-so-subtle hints to Lee that he should be doing the same, but Sally cut her off. “No need for you to leave. You’ve gone to a lot of effort to call, both of you, and you’re practically family.”

Her tone allowed no argument, and both stayed on the line. Sally turned back to Jeff. “How is the food, dear?”

Jeff squirmed. “Who ratted me out?” he asked, petulantly.

“Jeff, dear, you were missing for eight years. You really think we’re not burning out the switchboard, calling to make sure you’re really here and it wasn’t a dream?”

Jeff sighed. “It’s not like it was deliberate, Mom.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was eight years. Eight years eating nutrient mush processed from the rocks of the Oort Cloud. It kept me alive, but it didn’t really do much for me taste wise. I just really, really want a steak dinner. Is that so bad?”

Sally sighed, and patted his hand. “I know. It’s not bad to want it, Jeff; but as you said, you spent eight years eating nutrient mush. You’re stomach isn’t up for that steak dinner yet. If you try … well, it won’t be pleasant – for you or anyone else.”

Jeff sighed. “I guess I know that, but … I guess I want reassurance that I’m home, too. And the bland food I’m getting,” he slumped, and mumbled to his clasped hands, “it doesn’t help. It feels … it’s more like there than here.”

Whimpers rose from numerous throats around the room, and from all sides hands made aborted moves to touch Jeff. Sally reached out and grasped his hands in hers. “I know, baby. And I know that patience isn’t your greatest strength, but you’re going to have to be patient. It’s like when you were learning to fly, or undergoing astronaut training. One step at a time.”

There was a sigh from the bed. “It’s a matter of time, Dad. You’ll get there,” Virgil offered.

“And when you do, we’ll have the biggest, most elaborate, steak dinner to celebrate – no holds barred, the whole cow, all the trimmings,” Scott offered.

“So start thinking what you want, we’ll need every minute of the time sort out the menu,” John added. Then, casting a grin at Scott, “because you can bet Scott’ll make sure we have test runs to ensure everything is just right for you. And he’ll throw himself under the bus as the quality assurance.”

“And in the meantime,” Sally added, “I brought a little something to cheer you up. It might … spice up your meals.”

Jeff had brightened up as they spoke, and had a full-blown grin on his face as he accepted the box from Sally, his eyes bright with the anticipation of the gift – and the others all leaned closer, as eager as Jeff to see what was in the box.

Jeff pulled the lid off, and stared at the object within. His expression somewhere between amusement, horror, and heartbreak. Alan leaned forward, a frown on his face. “Is that … hot sauce?” he asked, then gagged. “What is wrong with the people that made it? Why would they call it that?!”

Gordon bounced a little in his seat. “Call it what?”

Lee made a sound between a wheeze and a laugh. “It’s not …” he began, “she didn’t really bring…”

Jeff nodded. “Yep.” He lifted a bottle out of the box, and held it up. “Hot sauce. The hot sauce.”

The holograms of Val and Lee began laughing hysterically, and the others looked between the bottle, Jeff, Sally, and each other.

It took a long time for the laughter to settle down enough for Scott – who had taken the bottle from his father’s hand, and showed it to his brothers, they all recoiled on reading the name on the label, but none of them were enlightened to the reason for the laughter – to tentatively ask, “What’s the story with-” he glanced at the label again and baulked at the name “-this?”

Sally took the bottle off Scott, and passed it back to Jeff, who carefully, reverently, put it back in the box, nestled among the packing material. “Your mother gave me this, my first birthday after we were married,” he said, his eyes not quite focused on the room.

There was a collective holding of breath by his sons – Jeff rarely spoke of Lucille, any information they could coax out of him was rare and precious. Nobody wanted to risk disturbing him as he spoke.

“I’d been bragging about how growing up eating Mom’s cooking had given me a cast iron stomach – never got food poisoning, could handle hot chilli, no problem. So she brought me this…” He reached forward, and Scott surrendered the bottle to him. “It’s made from Carolina Reaper Chillies, they’re the hottest ones allowed for human consumption.” He smiled. “She kept mentioning that fact, but I kinda … missed that point.”

There was a wry chuckle. “She put on a birthday dinner, with some of our friends and a few of the other astronauts. Everyone was really interested in the hot sauce, and there was encouragement to try it.”

There were twin snorts from the holograms. “It didn’t take a whole lot of encouragement,as I recall,” Lee drawled.

“You weren’t exactly trying to dissuade him, as I recall,” Casey laughed. “And as I recalled you poured some on your dinner readily enough.”

Jeff grinned at his best friend. “Long story short, there was a limit to how much spice I could handle.”

Sally laughed, short and not entirely amused. “Poor Lucy called me absolutely distraught. None of you went light on the sauce. Apparently you couldn’t speak, your eyeballs were about popping out of your skull, you were sweating at a greater rate than Niagara Falls, your face was bright red, and you were having trouble breathing.” A glance at the hologram of Lee, “the lot of you.”

Alan’s jaw was hanging loose. “What happened? What’s the first aid for first degree chilli burns?”

Sally grinned. “Dairy. Full fat dairy products. Preferably milk, although in this case, it didn’t cut it. Luckily your mother had lots of heavy cream for some cooking she was planning. That was enough to kill the burn.”

Lee grimaced. “Yeah, but we’d been hitting the beers. Mighta killed the burn, but most of us were queasy as all hell for days afterwards.”

Sally snorted. “No sympathy. You all should have known better. The one I feel sorry for was Lucy, poor girl honestly thought she’d poisoned half the astronaut corps in one go.”

“So what happened?” Gordon asked, spellbound.

Jeff laughed. “We were all humbled. It burned going in, and it burned going out. We were all pretty gun-shy of spicy food for a while, I can tell you.” Jeff smiled, a little sadly. “Lucy was miserable, thought she’d near killed me – and at the time, it sure felt that way. She’d honestly never thought that I’d actually try to eat the stuff. Thought she was buying me a decoration for the barbecue area I was setting up in the patio. Truth be told, I should have known better, but … well, we’d been on the booze, and there was more than a bit of testosterone in that room.”

Jeff stared at the bottle nestled in it’s box. He rubbed at his eyes, and nobody commented on the dampness on his eyelashes.

The room was silent for a long moment.

Finally Jeff heaved a sigh. “I have my limits. I’m not ready for that steak dinner. But I will be. Right?”

“Right,” Sally squeezed his arm, gently. “And we’ll be here to help you. All of us.”

Notes:

Soooo my Christmas present to brother-in-law the younger may have near poisoned him…

In my defence, I made it very clear the ‘hot sauce’ was made from Carolina Reaper Chillies, that they are the hottest chilli’s currently available for human consumption, and honestly: would you put something in your mouth that was labelled ‘Rectum Wrecker’? I thought I was getting him a talking point decoration for his new barbecue area; not actual food!

After a couple of days when it was apparent that he was okay, I got to thinking it was a very Tracy thing to do...

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[niffler-gold]

Burning

Just a short injury fic focused on Scott with some comfort thrown in.

His muscles burned in agony as he tried to get up this morning. Apparently doing two mountain rescues back to back with a lot of climbing followed by rigorous water training led by Gordon did not agree with his muscles. Still nothing a hot shower and some stretching wouldn't fix.

He slowly pulled his legs over the side of the bed and stretched up towards the ceiling his joints loudly cracking to show their disdain at being moved from their current position. He quickly pulled on his running gear and was about to head out before his hot shower. Leaving his room he could already hear Gordon furiously swimming in the pool at this early hour.

Just as he was heading down the stairs to start his early morning routine John popped up on his com. He groaned internally before answering, knowing his hot shower was going to have to wait. "What's the situation John", he asked, ever the professional. "Another climber got into difficulties". Scott paused before answering, "That is the third one in less than 2 days, what are these people thinking, we should start charging for these at least that might be a deterrent", he rambled on. John cut him off before he could get any further, "even so this guy does need our help", he paused for a second before continuing, "it's an unusual one, he was climbing a large cliff face when he said the cliff seemed to move under him, next thing he knew all of his belay wall clips started pinging undone and he fell around 50 metres getting tangled in the line as he went... The unusual thing is I haven't detected any seismic activity around that area nor does it have any implications in the surrounding geology that any seismic activity has taken place in the last 100 years. "He's probably just imagining it and didn't secure his clips properly enough", grumbled Scott in response. "Could be" replied John, "but I did a quick background check on this guy and he's been climbing professionally for about 30 years and has never called us or any local rescue teams out to aid him before." "Hmmmm, that is odd" pondered Scott. "I'll take 1 alone, no need to wake up the bear this early for a pickup.. see you in the sky thunderbird 5", "fab scott, safe flight" and with that John had disappeared and Scott was running towards one's launch shoot to gear up.

Sitting in the pilot's chair of one he slowly tried to stretch his burning muscles out once more but to no avail. He really could have done with that hot shower he thought to himself. Nevermind it could wait. "Approaching the danger zone now thunderbird 5" he called through the coms. "Fab thunderbird 1" John called back through to him. He tried one last futile time to stretch his muscles out before coming into land at the bottom of the cliff face.

After exiting one and surveying the scene before him he knew the best option was going to be to climb up after the man rather than using the jet pack due to the unknown unstable condition of the rock face. Thankfully he could use the grapple gun in order to get up there with speed as the man looked to be hanging on his side completely covered in rope. With precision he fired the grapple into a secure spot of the wall and started his accent.

His limbs were once again burning with the strain of the climb by the time he had reached the man. But still he kept face and called out to the dangling climber. He quickly learned that the man's name was Ben and started trying to secure him to a new line before tackling the rope that was binding him. Luckily Ben seemed unharmed apart from a little bit of rope burn where it had dug in and caught him.

Ben kept chatting to him as he worked and he soon found out he was a seasoned mountain rescue operative on a holiday as he called it to get a little alone time. It was definitely something that Scott would have done if he ever had more than a few hours to himself and he kept wondering how the climber had managed to get himself in such a bind. Soon enough though Ben was free and was back secured against the wall. However before Scott could lower Ben down back to the ground again they had to get his gear cut down so they didn't tangle up with it on their way down.

As Ben was helping him sort it out he noticed something odd. One of the belay wall clips looked chard and burnt and the rope around said clip was in similar condition. He looked at Ben and asked if his equipment was this damaged when securing it to the wall. Ben confirmed it most definitely was not in that condition, then he noted that when assessing the rope to be cut down back to the ground, that would of been the clip that failed when the cliff started moving. This puzzled Scott even more.

Once the gear and ropes had been safely thrown back down to the ground Scott got ready to lower Ben down to safety. But before he could he asked Ben if he knew whereabouts on the wall that the burnt clip had been secured. His Tracy senses were tingling alarmingly but not in a good way at all. Ben said it looks like it was the clip about 10 meters above them, so Scott decided he needed to take a look before returning to the ground. Scott slowly lowered ben back down to solid ground before slowly climbing to the spot Ben had previously pointed out to him.

He quickly found the spot where the clip had been as a small black spot protruded out of the crack where the clip had been secured. Small cracks could also be seen in the burnt section of the wall. He slowly felt around inside the small fisher to see what could have caused the damage as nothing natural would do this type of carnage. His fingers slowly curled around something metallic small and sharp. He cautiously pulled it out and held it to the light to better examine it. He could just make out the chaos crew logo.

His hand flew up to his com button to alert John but in a split second a fireball had engulfed a section of cliff high above him to his right. An ear splitting explosion suddenly came from his left much nearer to him than the first. He started rappelling down the cliff as fast as his equipment would take him. Another explosion just above him and he could feel the heat lick the side of his face. It had detonated where he had just been a second before. Next thing he knew he was falling. The explosion had dislodged his grapple.

He fell as fire and debris surrounded him on all sides. He fumbled with a new grapple cartridge, discarding the old one out of the gun and fired. The line caught him less than 10 meters from the ground. Before he had a chance to get moving again a last fireball explosion detonated just below his right leg.

He was lying on the ground his ears ringing. He could see smoke floating all around him as his vision swam. His right leg was numb with scalding pain shooting all around it. His vision swam when he tensed it unknowingly. He could hear muffled movement round him someone shouting his name. The next time his eyes peeled open against the heat a figure loomed over him. He seemed to be yelling something but it sounded so far away. Green and blue swam in his vision as he lost consciousness once again.

He could hear low murmuring voices all around him. His head swam with confusion. He could feel soft cotton sheets wrapped around him and the tell tale sting of an IV line inserted into his left arm. His body felt numb and his right leg had an odd feeling of coolness about it. Gingerly he opened one eye to figure out what was going on.

He was greeted with the sight of all his brothers sitting around the bed he had been put in. He heard a low chorus of Scott being said around the room as his eyes adjusted to the light of the room. He felt a hand on his and saw Virgil gently holding it looking like he hadn't slept in over a week. "What happend" he gently asked looking at his little brother in the eyes. His voice came out quite horse and raspy much to his surprise. "The chaos crew" Virgil replied quietly and solemnly. Suddenly the images of the rescue and the carnage that had surrounded him came back into his mind. "How bad he asked" still looking at his brother. It was John who answered instead on the opposite side of his bed. "Unconscious for 3 days, bruised ribs and a definite concussion..." He seemed to trail off towards the end. Scott knew he was avoiding telling him something but before he had a chance to enquire further Gordon finished off for John. " Your right leg", he stated nervously. "When we found you it was blackened and chard, your uniform was missing and the parts that were still there were fused into your skin". "The doctors managed to save it though" he said cheerfully trying his hardest to lighten the mood. Alan chose this moment to interject, "you've had multiple skin grafts and surgeries to assist with its healing, for now it's got to stay in the specialty brace to keep it healing and healthy." So that's why, he thought to himself, it felt slightly cold.

He could already feel the sleep tugging at his eye lids as he looked at his brother's noticing how worried and anxious they all seemed to look. Virgil gently brushed the hair back of his forehead, "sleep Scotty" he gently whispered as everything started going black again.

A month later and Scott was sitting at his father's desk keeping an eye out on the rescue that the rest of his brothers were on. He still was on crutches as he wasn't allowed any weight on the leg just yet. The brace that surrounded it kept it nice and cool though.

He thought back to that morning where all he wanted was a nice hot shower but had decided to go running instead. He should have just had the shower he thought to himself. At the moment all he was allowed was a gentle cold shower due to his injuries. He sighed to himself knowing it was still gonna be a little while until he could have the hot water pouring down his skin.

"SCOTT WHAT ARE YOU DOING", yelled Virgil having just materialised on the holo projector in the middle of the room. "What" Scott replied with his cocky grin on his face. "I'm sitting down" he tried not to laugh at the expression on Virgil's face. "You are meant to be elevating that leg, not sitting at the desk". Well at least some things never changed.

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

WIP not Wednesday

This may become my first effort at writing a multi-chapter fic. See if anyone can spot what Gordon's been buying online now.

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Virgil walked into the lounge to find everything was pretty quiet. Gordon was relaxed on a sofa looking at some green toy that was still sealed in a box. Nobody else seemed to be around.

“Still buying junk from trash mines online Fish?” Virgil asked with an arched eyebrow.

“This is not junk! It's still in the box. These trousers were amazing, made by NASA. The toys were really popular in the 1990s, it's an antique.”

[m-calculus]

A Cozy Evening

Scott ran his fingers through the silky fur of the puppy sleeping with its head on his lap. He leant back, letting his body sink into the plush sofa.

Puppy sitting wasn’t his usual gig, but when one of his old Air Force buddies had put out the SOS looking for a sitter at the last minute due to a family emergency, International rescue was always ready to help.

Scott used his free hand to lift a pumpkin-shaped mug with warm hot chocolate to his lips, taking a large sip. He pulled the crochet blanket over his lap, as the fire crackled in the grate.

Sure there were messes to clean up, the puppy was not yet toilet trained, but he smiled as the puppy twitched in its sleep; no doubt dreaming about their game of tug-of-war earlier in the evening.

[feet010]

Write x reader fanfic for Scott Tracy or else.😠

GIFS/PICS AREN'T MINE

[willow-salix]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN!

To celebrate my boys (TAG) birthday I'm FINALLY launching season 3!

Here's the TAG line:

We last saw the Tracy family dealing with their biggest threat yet, a mysterious foe who lurks in the shadows, pulling strings and putting the whole world in danger.

Plans are being put into action, true allegiances are being formed, patience and resolve is being tested and the Tracy family is feeling the strain.

Secrets will out, world views will shift, the threats will keep piling up and the Tracy family will have their eyes opened in more ways than one.

Who's as excited as I am? This season has been a long time in the planning and I'm sooo happy to be finally sharing it with the world. I'm planning on publishing a chapter a week, but I'll be writing as I go and life happens, so we'll see how it goes lol.

Gods I'm so happy that I'm back writing these gorgeous people, I've missed my two idiots so much, I can't even describe it.

Chapter 1 is up and you can find it here ➡️

So, if you're new, welcome to the madness, and if you're returning, welcome back!

We hope you enjoy the ride.

[waty-art]

Thunderbirds Are Go Fanfiction

Hi, Thunderbirds fans! Thank you all so much for being amazingly nice and supportive on my Thunderbirds Fanfiction!

I’m thinking of doing another fanfic of the Tracy brothers, but this time a western au series of one shots. Would anybody read it?

[melmac78]

Here’s chapter seven of the Lexington story. The picture on the left is from the main entrance, but shows a good picture of the flags discussed in this chapter. (If it looks familiar, this is the background that @lenle-g used as the backdrop for the amazing artwork based on this story, but you can get this on the flight deck too. The flag on the right is W and sourced online.)

The photos below include the bridge, which accesses the flag area, the flag bag and information about it, and a T-34C mentor which is at least painted like a Flying Tiger. This plane, however, would’ve trained pilots and not for battle. (This is a plane model I’ve flown in.)

Previous Chapter 6

••••••

About and hour and a half later, after treating patients in the wardroom and checking up on others, the Tracy brothers discussed options on what to do next.

Each brother started discussing means to contact other ships minus using Four.

This lead to a huge argument between Scott and Gordon, especially as the latter postulated he could use sonar to make his way to land.

Virgil tried to mitigate the argument via walkie-talkie.

John, who was sound asleep fighting off his illness, didn’t hear a peep.

The youngest, who was already feeling a headache and warm in his uniform, was fed up. Alan said he’d start searching the flight and bridge deck.

Miffed when neither brother was listening, he started on his course, stumbling slightly on the fairly smooth floor. Shaking his head he pinched his nose to stave off the uneasy feeling he had.

A few minutes later, the older two brothers realized he was gone.

Scott contacted the youngest, who explained what he planned to do.

The eldest confirmed the idea might work, and Scott and Gordon, along with Jacob, started working on ways to prevent more illness.

Little did they know a person had overheard as they treated a camper, and left before the duo did to keep eavesdropping on the Tracy brothers, particularly the aquanaut.

They had been told to let this run its course, and work on a way to explain any hospitalizations… or worse. After all - the product needed to be refined, and the less known how much of a disaster this test was, the better.

•••••••

Alan looked around the flight deck, and saw nothing but the blue water of the Atlantic Ocean.

"I've got to find some way to get an alert out to people we're here," he thought and looked at the one of the planes still blocked on the flight deck.

He looked at one painted like a Flying Tiger and placing a hand on it, sighed.

"I really wish we had some jet fuel - Scott could go and fly, but we don't know where…" he started then paused when his head again swum slightly, making him take a few fast breaths.

Alan didn't quite get why he felt like a fish out of water so to speak. It seemed simple climbs were a little bit more laborious, but his breathing now was clearly panic in his mind.

He took a deep breath and sighed. "OK, need to calm down… hyperventilating won't do John any good,” he said, ignoring the niggling feeling in his gut something was wrong.

The youngest then turned to go back up to the main bridge to get a better look of the area around the ship for possible means to signal help.

As he started he felt the wind blow again, making him shudder as though he had a sunburn and the air conditioning was on.

He rubbed his face tiredly and turned to his right where the T-34C was, sitting heavily on the stairs.

"I don't believe it Virgil … I'm frying in this outfit," he said to the vehicle, tapping his comm briefly. "You know, like one of those Astro Dogs at the Astros game we went to…"

The comm clicked off when he leaned toward the plane again and patted it, trying to get it to laugh.

When the plane naturally didn't say anything, he frowned at the painted on snarl. "Come on Virgil - don't snarl. That was supposed to be a joke," he said, playfully punching the plane.

He recoiled in pain from the punch, and had a moment of clarity he hit a plane.

Shaking his hand, he confirmed he hit the plane. “That isn't Virgil…I'm getting to be as bad as John did with those dummies..." he said, pausing and wincing as a wave of dizziness got him.

It was starting to make sense… and that uneasiness came at him stronger. Double with the recollection of the night before…

Alan realized to his horror he had it too. "And John also is… no, not me too. I need to get us help - and fast,” he said, shuddering in the wind. “But how..."

The astronaut braved a glance upward to the bridge, and saw the colorful flags in the air. They were doubling… or blurry… but they seemed to be important.

“The tour yesterday - Gordon said….”

His eyes widened in fevered delight as a plan formed in his head. It was risky with his health but it was a way to get help.

The youngest astronaut hit his sash. "Gordon, you're a genius," he said and started up the ladders to the bridge.

Gordon who was near the open bay near the fo’c’sle, frowned, confused at the comment.

He was thankful however there was one spot the baldric comms worked.

“How am I a genius Alan?" he said through the comm.

All he got was a cut off speaker, hit again when Alan bumped into a railing from vertigo and caught himself.

The aquanaut frowned. "Alan... you OK?" he inquired again, tapping his sash. This time he didn't hear a response.

The youngest astronaut however groaned from collision, but continued as though the others could hear.

"I'm going to set up a signal flag! There has to be a ship nearby - maybe even WASP - that could see it and get help," he said, pausing at the top of the bridge area when he felt a bit dark and unlevel.

He steadied himself. "If I can get there… take it slow Alan, don't pass out,” he said, half feeling his way to the door leading to the flag bag area.

Alan made it to the spot, a small lookout like area where the signal flags were and, tracing then rope with the flags, was able to free it from the tie-down.

He quickly lowered the flags, pausing only a moment when the world spun alarmingly. Alan rested his head against the wall, appreciating the coolness. "I could get used to this…" he started, and started to slide down a little.

A slight burst of friction heat woke him up and he straightened, tilting wildly. Fortunately the flag box was sturdy and wide enough Alan was able to catch himself and keep from flipping over the side to an unforgiving flight deck..

"Nope! I've got to stay awake - John, the others… I need help, and we can't get it … without the flag," he said as he removed the decorative flags until there was a bare rope.

The youngest Tracy then rummaged through the flags, searching for the "W" flag, and whooped faintly with joy when he found it.

Alan's hands were starting to shake as his body fought to keep him alert. He fumbled with the clips, and was thankful the design was the same no matter how he pinned it up.

He felt his vision again start to go again as he grew more ill, but he was going to raise that flag. It was their only chance.

Thanks to the growing darkness pulling at him, every hand pull felt like like he was trying to lift TB5 from underwater.

Still he was determined to get the flag raised, even if he became a human anchor again.

"A little more," he said, gritting his teeth, but finally, he felt the rope not move and secured it to the holder in a figure 8 formation.

Alan looked up and blearily saw the "W" flag waving clearly in the breeze.

"I did it," he sighed wearily, only to feel the world around him darken and waver once more.

He tried to fight it, tried to even hit his sash's comm, but his arms wouldn't comply. Alan realized this time he was going down.

So, he used those fleeting seconds of awareness to stumble toward the wall, rolling onto his back to help him through this part safely.

"I hope the guys …. can find me," he thought vaguely as he felt himself slide down, aided by the wall. He then fell sideways into the massive amounts of flags on the ground, cushioning the now oblivious teen's head.

•••••

Gordon tried his sash comm again. "Alan, will you please respond?" he said urgently.

"What's the trouble Gordon?" said Scott instead, who had arrived to where his aquanaut brother stood.

"I don't know. Alan said I was a genius, but when I asked what, he just disconnected the comm," said the aquanaut. "Seemed a bit odd for him to say that though. Kind of out there -"

"No kidding, just like that frying Astro Dog comment earli…" started Scott, who then frowned.

The younger man also frowned. "Frying?... He did sound a bit out of it," said Gordon, who then paled. "You don't suppose he's sick now?"

Virgil, who had been listening to both communications, pursed his lips. "It's possible. He's been around John the most, plus had to keep him from falling into a medical storage bay," he said.

"Starting to sound more than likely," said Gordon. "We need to find him, and fast before he tries to swan dive off into a storage bay.”

Scott immediately went into action. "Gordon, you take the captain's quarters tour,” he said. “I'll take the fo’c’sle."

Virgil heard a different squawk on the radio. “This is Virgil, go ahead Jacob,” he said.

“Virgil, do you or your brothers need my assistance?” Said the older man.

The medic looked at his other ill brother and sighed. “Can you keep an eye on John?” He queried. He knew the older man had wrenched his shoulder earlier catching a football playing college student when he collapsed, and couldn’t assist in a rescue.

“10-4 Virgil. Will be there in 5. There’s an extra radio for Scott on the front desk in the office.”

Virgil switched off the radio. “Did you get that?”

"FAB Virgil. You head to the flight deck when Jacob comes over,” said Scott as he and Gordon started their search. Each grew frustrated as their searches were not proving fruitful.

••••••••

A few minutes later, Virgil had reached the flight deck and started searching.

After searching bow to stern, he growled. "Come on bro, this is NOT the time to get lost," he said, hoping he did not succeed in doing a nosedive off the ship.

He looked up as though in prayer.

It was answered… just not the way he'd expected.

Virgil saw one flag now on the mast of the Lexington - and paused for thought.. "Scott, Gordon, do you know if they were going to change the colors today?" he said.

"I can't believe the 'oh so polite' Scouts managed to spell a curse word in the order they flew them," said Gordon with a chuckle on his radio.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. "Not the time Gordo - were they for sure?" he asked.

Hearing both men grunt in the negative, he nodded firmly. "I think I know where Alan may be. If I'm right, and he's down, I'll need your help to lower him."

"Lower him?" said Scott, concerned.

"No time to explain bro, just head to flight deck. I'll contact you as soon as I know," said Virgil as he rushed up the bridge ladders.

He hoped that Alan was where he suspected and didn't try to go another 50 feet up to higher parts of the ship with their grapples.

Virgil carefully made his way around the steering wheel and chairs to the exit where the signal flags were stored.

There, in a bundle of nautical flags, was Alan, unmoving.

"Alan!" he said and quickly kneeled by the youngest, checking his pulse.

Feeling the heat radiating off the younger man through his gloves, Virgil shuddered, then switched on the radio. "Scott, Gordon, Alan's in the bridge area,” he said and started checking teen’s vitals.

Scott, who was in the office, pursed his lips. "How is he Virg?" he inquired as he hurriedly left the office and headed toward his brothers.

Virgil gently lifted one of Alan's eyelids and checked the ill man's eye response. "Out cold and burning up," said the medic.

"Darn it," said Gordon on his radio, growing angrier. "Scott, we've got to use Four and seek help."

The eldest shook his head, and remembering the others couldn't see it, spoke up. "Belay that Gordon. Right now we need to get Alan to safety," he said.

“But…”

“Gordon, it’s too risky. We can’t have you drive off in Four and end up falling ill too,” he said.

"FAB," said Gordon, who turned off his radio and started to head up to the flight deck, and upon arrival, then turned to the bridge entrance.

He paused, shaking his head. The risk was great yes, but the reward greater, he mused, and decided to ignore the order.

With that, Gordon turned another route, toward the bow where Four was located.

"John has been out of it most of the morning and his fever keeps going back up despite our efforts to cool him down. And he’d be angry at Scott if we didn’t try to get help for the kids," said Gordon sternly to himself as he jogged to his beloved sub. "Now Alan is sick too, I'm going!"

Gordon climbed into Thunderbird Four and using the emergency thrusters pushed his craft off of the flight deck.

"AaaWeee!" Gordon cried as Thunderbird Four fell the few hundred feet into the waves below. Under other circumstances he would have thought it fun, even though his yellow sub landed on its top in the waves.

"Oof! Don't want to do that again," groaned the aquanaut as he rubbed a bruised shoulder where the harness hit him.

Gordon used the thrusters and soon righted his Thunderbird. The duo dove down deep, hoping to escape detection from his brothers.

Little did he know: he already had a stowaway - one who had already overheard his idea and was in a life pod inside, ready to give him help.

Just not the aid needed.

••••••••

Meanwhile, Scott had arrived to the flight deck and looked up to the bridge area. "Virgil, I'm here. Where are you?" he said through the radio. “What do you need?"

Virgil leaned over the railing briefly to show his location. "See if there's a stokes or something we can carry him in," he ordered.

"Do you need any rigging to get him down?"

"No, I’ve got my grapples and they’re designed to carry double my weight,” said Virgil. “The winds up here are a little stronger - but we’ll have to risk Alan colliding with something. Meet me on the hangar deck."

"FAB, I'll be back shortly," said Scott as he went to search for the items needed.

Virgil finished removing the last flag when the youngest murmured briefly and opening his eyes, blearily looked up. "Are you my guardian angel," Alan asked innocently.

"Not quite bro - I'm still alive for one," chuckled Virgil as he checked Alan's pulse. "Do you know where you are?"

Alan looked at the flag in Virgil's hand. "I think I've either lost a fight with MAX and the laundry again or I got that flag up and passed out," he said.

Virgil smiled. "No on the former - though I want to hear that story someday, but yes on the latter. Crazy move brother, but it just might work," he said, leaning forward to lift his brother. "Now, I'm sure you know the drill now right?"

Alan saw Virgil's body language and winced. "You're not going to carry me are you?" said Alan, whining like a three year old.

"Yeah - sorry Al, I'm going to have to in order to rappel down. There's nothing but ladders here and if you collapse again -" he said, and again checked the younger man's pulse and response.

"Not going to," said the younger, weakly brushing off the hand.

Frowning at his finding, Virgil continued honestly. "Sorry bro, but I'm afraid you will from what I'm seeing. Even if you don't, in your condition we don't need you falling down the stairs from a dizzy spell and get hurt worse."

"No I won't…" Alan murmured and tried to sit up. He sagged back against the wall, supported by Virgil. "O-K, FAB… you win…" he said tiredly.

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, let me do the work this time," chided Virgil as he gently pulled his brother into a standing position.

The move unfortunately was too much of a position change and Alan indeed once more blacked out, sagging into his brother's shoulder with a soft, barely heard moan.

Virgil held on to his brother as he felt the teen go limp. "Easy Alan, I've got you," the medic said in reassurance as he swiftly stabilized his brother and connected the two baldrics together to rappel.

Scott, who had been able to get a backboard to carry their brother, had seen some motion at the spot and frowned. "Virgil? What's wrong?" He half shouted in the radio.

Virgil chose to wait briefly as the feedback faded, then responded. "Alan passed out again."

"Panic attack?" asked Scott. He didn't blame Alan if he did have one at the thought of being rappelled down against his will, ill or not. At least they could carry him down the long frozen escalator.

"No, I think from orthostatic hypotension."

"FAB," said Scott, understanding now it was from a drop in his blood pressure standing an ill Alan up to connect the harnesses.

"I am heading to the fight deck," Virgil said as he carefully connected a rappel charge to a sturdy pipe.

Once assured of its security, he went down the “exit” route with his precious cargo. "Do you have everything ready?"

"FAB, and what I could find to cool him down," said Scott as he laid the items out on the hangar deck.

A few minutes later, Virgil landed on the flight deck, and after removing the harness link, lifted Alan into a fireman’s carry.

Virgil walked a few yards to where Scott was with with a gently moaning Alan. "He's been mumbling on the way down," said the medic as he carefully lowered their brother to the ground. "I think he'll be like John and wake up a little more when we cool him down."

Scott covered Alan with the cooling blanket and checked his pulse. "Why was he up there in the first place?" said the pilot.

"Probably to put that one flag up to get attention," Virgil said, pointing. "I think that one means 'quarantine' or 'medical help' if I've kept some of Gordon's ramblings in my head."

Scott gave an exasperated chuckle. "You're right Virgil - it is one. That crazy kid - no wonder he said Gordon a genius," he said. "Hopefully it'll get us some help - a local trawler, a cargo ship, WASP."

"I hope so too. In the meantime we need to get Alan to the berthing quarters and out of his uniform into something more comfortable," said Virgil.

They both knew like John's suit, it was designed to keep in warmth in a space environment. Alan's fever combined with the suit would cause further issues.

There was a soft groan from the deck, and the two eldest looked down. "Alan, can you hear me," said Virgil gently. "Just relax, we'll have you cooled down soon enough."

The youngest looked at Virgil with dizzy eyes. "Hate being an Astro Dog, Mr. Cheeseburger. Can you hold the anchovies?" muttered Alan before subsisting again.

Scott looked at the teen and gave a weak grin.

"FAB, Astro Dog," said Scott, looking at a slightly bemused Virgil. "Come on Mr. Cheeseburger... let's get Astro Dog here some nice cold ice water to cool him down."

"Definitely," said the medic as he and Scott picked up the stokes to take the youngest to the berth.

In their haste to get Alan cooled down, neither of the fully alert men noticed TB4 was not on the deck.

[fragglesesamemuppetz2]

Supermarionation fanfic ideas I had:

Who Rescues The Heros?: When Scott, Alan, Virgil, Gordon, and John are captured by an unknown threat, can Spectrum, World Space Patrol, and WASP rescue them? And could this threat have any ties to the Mysterons? [not spoiling but this may also involve Terrahawks in a way].

Paint Battle!: All of the Supermarionation heroes are participating in a painting contest, only for things to turn chaotic.

Magic vs Mysterons: The Mysterons are targeting the Disney characters! Captain Scarlet must team up with classic Disney characters to prevent HUGE trouble from happening.

Calling Spectrum?: Something has gone wrong, Scott and Paul/Scarlet have swapped bodies! Now they must try to do each other's jobs while trying to find a way to return to normal.

Rising Storm, Rising Glitch: Titan thinks he has found the perfect way to get rid of Troy Tempest once and for all, unfortunately, he has gotten more then he bargained for when he summons the infamous Pokemon Missingno. Now the Supermarionation heroes must team up with various Pokemon trainers to stop Missingno's destruction before it's too late? But is it really Missingno doing all of this, or is another Pokemon pulling the strings [pun fully intended]?

I'm considering more ideas in the future, but feel free to use any of mine. I'll try my best to wrist the first, third, and fourth stories, but I just hope I don't get writer's block.

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP-from-the-poll #5

This one’s from the fluffily-titled Burn it All.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

A sudden breeze caught the bottom of the solitary figure’s black overcoat and it flapped noisily, tugging him backwards as if to encourage him to turn back. The man ignored the suggestion and remained unmoving, his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze fixed on a very particular segment of the lightening sky.

Barely a breath after the first rays of dawn glinted off a tiny speck on the horizon, the peace was shattered as the sleek silver and blue rocket plane roared on to the scene. Whoever it was trapped out here, International Rescue was here to save them, no questions asked, no moral judgment.

The ship slowed dramatically, but with absolute control, immense power restrained and channelled with precision. The rocket traced a wide loop of the abandoned city, apparently scanning for its would-be-grateful-rescuee and the dark-clad man watched, eyes narrowed, waiting.

Thunderbird One veered to starboard, and came into into a hover precisely above the old town hall - the tallest, most elaborate building in a place that had come to epitomise ostentatious waste. She gleamed - a shining symbol of all that human ingenuity and passion could achieve. A beacon of hope. The ship slowly rotated to face the watching man, staring down her nose cone deep into his soul.

And then exploded.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[pareidoliaonthemove]

What Are Little Girls Made Of

“How far to the lifesigns, Thunderbird Five?”

Virgil stopped the rest behind the ‘mini-Mole’, as he waited for his older brother to respond.

“About twenty meters, Two. You need to veer five degrees right, and one degree down. That will have you breaking through their air pocket at the corner diagonally opposite from their position.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. Five degrees right one, one degree down. Moving out.”

Virgil keyed in the course change on his wrist controller, and activated the mini-Mole. With a high pitched squeal, the small ROV again started drilling into the concrete and rebar of the collapsed building. It captured all the detritus, mixed it with a quick setting binding agent, and extruded it against the ‘walls’ of its tunnel, ensuring that the resulting space wasn’t going to collapse immediately behind it.

Virgil eyed his wrist controller as he crawled after the machine. Time was still of the essence in this type of rescue. They hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly why the commercial complex had collapsed, and that made Virgil very unhappy.

In front of him, the mini-Mole chirruped, slowed its pace and drill, and pulled forward to show a hole in the ‘wall’ facing a void. Virgil activated his passive line to John, then crawled up to the entryway and cautiously poked his head through. “International Rescue. Is anybody here?”

Stupid question, he knew there were two human life-signs in this space, but the enquiry served multiple purposes. Firstly, it identified him, and stopped anyone from trying to brain him with a rock – it had happened. Trapped people panicked, and if they had fears about running out of oxygen, another person in ‘their’ space, breathing ‘their’ air was a threat that had to be ‘dealt’ with.

Secondly, it told him if the lifesigns were conscious. No conscious victim could resist responding to the magic words...

“International Rescue!”

And there it was. One of the two lifesigns was currently bouncing towards him, a little girl about seven years of age, rushing across the space, her pigtails streaming behind her, pink ribbons fluttering. Virgil watched carefully as he crawled into the space. She was moving freely, despite concrete dust liberally coating her body, and bloody red grazes on the sides of legs and palms of her hand. Her dress, once a pink frilly layered affair was now torn and lank.

She must have felt like a princess when she left her home this morning.

The little girl grabbed his hand and started trying to drag him back with her to the far corner. “You have to come, Mummy’s stuck! She can’t get out!”

“Judy! Calm.” The voice was laced with pain but firm and calming. Two conscious resucees. That was good.

Judy stopped her insistent dragging, but didn’t let go of Virgil’s hand. “Please, Mister International Rescue. My Mummy is stuck. Can you help her get out?”

Virgil smiled, it was a practised smile, confident and calm. “That’s why I’m here. Now, where is your mummy, and what is her name?”

A deep breath. “My Mummy’s name is Jennifer Robson. My name is Judy Robson. Mummy is over in that corner,” she pointed. “And her legs are caught under the roof. Mine were, too,” she added, “but I’m little so I managed to wiggle my way out. Mummy can’t.”

“Thank you, Judy. You’ve been very brave, and very helpful. Can you keep helping me by staying here, while I go and see what’s got your mummy stuck?”

A determined nod, but her fear was betrayed by small teeth gnawing at her lower lip and bright water gathering in her eyes.

Virgil smiled again, and lowered himself down beside her mother. “Mrs Robson?” he asked, it never hurt to check names with parents. Judy had spoken clearly, but a misunderstood name at a rescue site could have consequences later.

The woman smiled up at him from where she lay on her left side. “That’s right, please call me Jenny. It’ll save time.” A glance at her daughter. “It’s a bit more complicated than just being stuck. I think something’s gone through my left leg.” A frown. “My right leg is lying in front of the left, and I can move it freely, but…”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He pulled a device from the satchel he had been dragging under his chest, clipped to his harness. “This is a snake,” he showed Mrs Robson. “I’m going to slide it behind you, and it’ll let me see what’s holding you in place. Then I can come up with a plan to get you out.”

“That would be appreciated,” Jenny smiled.

Virgil eased his way behind her, and activated the snake, sending it slipping down next to her back, and relaying what it ‘saw’ to a little 2D screen on the control box.

He frowned at what he saw. A piece of rebar – entirely too thin for what it was presumably doing, he noted absently – had been freed from it encasing concrete, and had stabbed through Jenny’s left calf. He sent the snake bobbing down, to examine beneath.

They were in luck, the rebar had only just broken the skin, and hadn’t pinned her to the slab below. One cut, a slight jacking of the slab above her, and Jenny could be pulled out.

He informed Jenny as much, and then paused. Judy was sitting cross legged where he had left her, her apparent calm betrayed by the clean furrows tear tracks had carved down the concrete dust coating her face. He couldn’t send the little girl up the tunnel on her own, there were too many side branches that had been carved to reach other victims of the collapse. He couldn’t take her himself, and leave Jenny alone. And they really couldn’t afford the time to have one of his brothers come down and collect Judy, but she was still only young, and he didn’t really want her to see the state her mother was in.

Jenny saw where he was looking, and smiled. “If you’re worried about upsetting her with blood, you shouldn’t. Your biggest problem will be keeping her out of the way to wrap up a wound. Little girls come in two flavours, precious princesses who kick up and fuss at the mere mention of the word ‘blood’, or perfect little ghouls, who delight in it, and must be shown any wound the instant they learn of it.” She raised her voice so her daughter could hear. “Judy wants to be a doctor when she grows up, she is very interested in first aid and how to treat injuries. Judy the Ghoul, we call her.”

Judy perked up. “Oh, does Mummy need first aid? Can I help? I know how to apply bandages! Please, can I help? I’ll be super helpful!”

Virgil glanced at her mother, who was all but laughing at his confusion. “Judy, tell Mister International Rescue how you treat someone with a stab wound.”

“First, never ever ever take the object out of the wound. Take a bandage, and make doughnut, like this,” she held up both hands to make an ‘O’ shape, “slide it over the foreign object, and then wrap other bandages around it to keep in place.”

Virgil nodded approvingly. “Very good. That’s absolutely correct. First I’m going to have to get your mom out, and then we can do the first aid together, okay?”

A determined nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then, let’s get cracking.” He turned to his satchel, and pulled out a jack, setting it up, again behind Jenny, and then pulling out a version of Mini-MAX. This one programmed for exactly this kind of scenario, and kitted out with a miniature version of his shoulder mounted laser.

Virgil always had trepidations about ‘his’ Mini-MAX. It had taken Brains a lot of trial and error to tone down MAX’s natural enthusiasm. That coupled with a high powered laser had had … interesting results. International Rescue’s high energy equipment testing protocols and test chamber had both needed serious overhauling.

As was his habit, Virgil held his breath as Mini-MAX attached the heat absorbing shield, and activated his laser. But the little robot did his job perfectly, flying back out to his ‘travel’ case, leaving Jenny with a half-inch of rebar sticking out of her leg.

Virgil again held his breath as the jack slowly, so slowly, eased upwards just enough for him to slide Jenny out without jostling the rebar, and, once she was clear, slowly easing the slab back down to its original position.

As Virgil turned his attention to his charge’s injury, he found the little girl, kneeling beside her mother, her face mere inches from the ground, as she examined the injury with a bright-eyed intensity that made him just a little bit uneasy.

Gently pulling the girl, back he helped her sterilise her hands, and they both made a ‘doughnut’ out of bandages, and while Judy held them in place, Virgil started the binding bandage. He then turned to give Jenny painkillers, while keeping an eye on Judy as she completed the binding.

Quickly assembling the hover stretcher from its folded up state in his satchel, Virgil explained his evacuation plan to his patient and ‘assistant’. Jenny was soon installed on the stretcher, and strapped firmly in place, while Judy was more loosely strapped to her right side, so she could ‘monitor’ her mother on their trip to the surface.

Bringing the mini-Mole around to face back up its tunnel, Virgil tethered the hover stretcher to its back, and sent the Mole, the stretcher and its occupants trundling back towards freedom. Quickly packing up his remaining equipment, Virgil started crawling after the Mole, quietly confirming with John the condition of his rescuees and confirming that there was appropriate resources waiting for them top side, and that there was no-one else to pull from the wreckage of the building.

The trip back up passed quicker than had the one down, with Judy chatting happily to her mother, and then relaying regular ‘updates’ back to Virgil. The dying rays of sunlight bathing the scenery in reds and golds seemed unnaturally bright to Virgil as he crawled out of the hole, accepting Gordon and Scott’s help to stand upright again, and pull off his helmet. His back cracking as he straightened, but he bit back the groan as he twisted. That was just a bit too ‘old man’.

Ambulance crews, already briefed by John as to Jenny’s condition, and treatment already provided, had shifted her from the IR stretcher to their own gurney, and Judy was standing, watching intently as they took her vital signs, and unworriedly alternating between talking over, and talking to the little girl.

A woman, dressed in the ambulance’s uniform, drew Jenny away, and briefly examined the grazes on her legs and hands, and Virgil was briefly concerned that he had missed something in his haste to free the mother. But as the woman realised Virgil was watching, she offered a smile, and a thumbs up; and Virgil relaxed.

Beside him, Gordon nudged his arm, pressed an object into Virgil’s hand. It was one of the buttons Virgil had had made up, a test run of item he wanted to propose to Scott for distribution to kids at Danger Zone. A small button with a pin back. In the centre was the IR logo, an around it, in – naturally – Thunderbird Two Green was the words “I Was Brave For International Rescue”.

Virgil frowned at Gordon. These weren’t supposed to be here, but Gordon just nodded to Judy. “She’s earned it. Scott’s busy, go on, Virg.”

Virgil walked over, and knelt down beside Judy. “I wanted to thank you, Judy. You were very brave and very helpful back there.” He held up the button to her. “You’ve earned this. Can I pin it to your dress?”

Judy’s eyes went wide as she saw the button, and she nodded. Virgil reached forward, and very carefully pinned it to the dress, probably a bit high, it was near her collarbone. But Judy stared down at it a moment, before launching herself at Virgil and nearly strangling him with a hug. “Thank you, Mister International Rescue. Thank you for helping me and my Mummy.”

Virgil cautiously returned the hug, “Thank you, Judy.” A shout from the nearby ambulance had Judy’s caretaker gently pulling her away from Virgil and leading her away. Judy bounded as she went, pigtails streaming behind her. Back to her mother.

Twenty Years Later

Virgil lay back, watching the flickering pattern of light tiles rush past over his head. Whatever drugs they had given him on the way to the hospital were working a treat, what had been a fiery burning pain was now a dull throb, annoying but he could live with it.

A new body joined the lineup alongside his gurney, and Virgil turned his attention to the newcomer. A woman, about thirty, her long dark hair was caught in a plait, a pink ribbon incongruously woven into the braid, and formed the tie, candy pink scrubs that stuck out like a beacon amid the soft blues and teals.

A photo ID card at the end of the lanyard bounced about as she ran, and Virgil couldn’t make out then name, but recognised from the colour stripe along the right edge that the woman was an Emergency Department Trauma Surgeon. Attached to the lanyard, near her collarbone, was a pin, and Virgil strained to see it. He frowned, and reached up a hand to tug on the lanyard so he could get a closer look at the pin.

A IR blue clad arm reached about and caught his hand. “Hey, Virg, no grabbing. Hands to yourself, even when drugged, bro.”

There was a laugh, and the woman pulled off the lanyard one handed, and held the pin for his inspection. It was an old button, faded from exposure to light, but Virgil instantly recognised it. Scott had quickly forbidden them when he had found out, but the IR logo in the centre, and the words, “I Was Brave For International Rescue” ran around the edge in Thunderbird Two Green was unmistakable.

A name came to him, an image of a cement dust covered little girl in torn pink dress and pigtails, peering in fascination at the rebar piercing her mother’s leg. “Judy the Ghoul,” he said, voice slurring.

Above him, Judy – Doctor Judy – laughed. “That’s me. I’m honoured you remembered me.”

Virgil lay back and closed his eyes. “Never forgot. Little girls are ghouls. Important lesson t’ learn.” He opened his eyes. “My little girls are even worse. Had’ta keep infirmary locked. Was tryin’ to play ‘doctor’.”

She laughed again, turning her attention to his lower body. Virgil really didn’t want to know what she was seeing. Feeling what had happened was bad enough. A thought. “Did y’ Mum keep th’ leg?”

“No,” was the absent reply. “Sepsis infection at the hospital meant she lost her leg, at the knee. She has a prosthesis; reckons it’s the best thing that ever happened to her. Says it reduced her footache by fifty percent.”

She turned back to Virgil. “But I’m afraid we’ll not be reducing your footache, Mr Tracy. But if you can be very brave and helpful, we’ll have you back rescuing little girls from collapsed buildings in no time.”

Virgil smiled, as half of the people surrounding him, including his brother, fell away, and he was propelled through double doors into the gleaming sterility of a surgical theater. “I look forward to it.”

Notes:

I have five nieces, aged between ten and two. Any bandages or bandaids must be immediately removed for them to inspect the damage. Ghouls. The lot of them. Unless it’s their blood!

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[niffler-gold]

Just a small Tracy fluffy fic.

I have 3 older sisters and there was a pic of us in the house for years of me at 4 years old on my first ever adult drop ride at a theme park. My 2 oldest were protecting me with arms firmly on my legs while my middle sister was grinning away like a mad women on the end. This story will be based off of this.

Thanks @coco9728 for the theme park inspiration.

Scott sighed sitting back in the old leather chair by his father's desk. It had been a long day, hell it had been a long week. He looked at all of the reports stacked in his inbox and begrudgingly opened the next one on the list.

He had barely seen his brothers this week except if a rescue had pulled them together. He frowned. The report he had opened was a Ti document. It was someone needing access into the old data banks for the latest project. He sighed again. He couldn't remember those old passkeys which meant he had to go into his dad's private study to retrieve them.

He avoided going in the study. It brought back too many unpleasant memories but sometimes needs must and he knew this was important.

He cracked open the door. God. He breathed in the smell. His aftershave still lingered after all this time. He let the memories flood him of his dad's presence before moving to the desk to find what he came to get.

He sat down and started to rummage through the draws but then froze. He pulled out a worn old photograph that he had forgotten even existed. The memory flooded him before he even knew what was happening.

A 7 year old Gordon woke him up by bouncing on his bed. "Scott, Scott get up". "Irgh" came the reply from the older teenager's bed. "Come on, today's the day we're going to the theme park" "get up". The next thing he knew the little menace that was his fish brother had ripped his duvet off him. Gordon saw the gleam in Scotts eye to late to react. Scott grabbed all of his flayling limbs and grabbed him to his chest and pulled the cover back over them. "No". Gordon's muffled scream could be heard through a lot of giggling.

John just so happened to be walking past his brother's bedroom at that exact moment, confused why the door was wide open. He poked his head round the door and could easily guess who Scott had prisoner in his bed. "Dad's not gonna be happy if you two are late" he said in a loud voice to be heard over all the giggling and yelling. Scott threw the cover off his head. "Yer, yer, were comi-" he was cut off by a yell of "Scott". Alan, all of 4 years old, had wandered in behind John. Next thing any of them knew Alan had all but ran and jumped on the bed hurtling towards his brother.

"I've missed you he said cuddling up to him". Gordon replied before Scott had a chance "he's only been away a few weeks" he said in his ever knowing 7 year old voice. "Too long" Alan pouted back. Before anyone could say anything Virgil and their father appeared at the door. "Come on boys we need to get a move on if we want to get there" Virgil then piped up "Gordon what did we say about bothering Scott" "it's fine Virgil" he replied scoping both the littleies into his arms. "I've missed them anyway, even this little monster" he said tickling Gordon some more. Their father just smiled in the door way. "Good to have you home son'".

30 minutes later and they were all bundled into the car on their way to the local theme park. It wasn't one of the huge parks but it was big enough for them to spend the day there and had rides that all of them could enjoy.

Scott spent the ride catching up on all of the mayhem his brothers had gotten into in the last few weeks since he had been gone. Safe to say it was a lot.

Once they arrived he relished in being back with his family going on different rides. There were 2 big water slides with rafts for 2 people to go on and they seemed to spend an age on them. First Scott took Alan on it with him holding his brother tightly as Alan screamed the whole way down only to burst into a fit of giggles at the bottom when it was over and his dad picked him up out of it. He made sure he went on it at least once with all of his brothers but the best was definitely Virgil. John may be older but was as skinny as skinny still. While Virgil was small he had broad shoulders and definitely been going to the gym, the weight of both of them made it go a hell of a lot faster. They even all watched Gordon and Alan come down together. Gordon taking his big brother responsibilities seriously as he walked hand and hand with him up to the top and held on tightly to him as they came down.

After a lunch of pre-packed sandwiches Virgil and John had made that morning, they wandered off to find some bigger thrill seekers. They came across a drop tower. One of those rides that take you slowly to the top only to plumit back down to the ground. Gordon begged his older brothers to take him on it. So as big brothers do they did. Alan was pretty upset as his dad had said no so instead his dad lifted him onto his shoulders as they watched their brothers go on it. After that Scott and Virgil decided to take Gordon on a few more bigger rides while John and their dad took Alan to the kiddie rollercoasters.

After taking Gordon on the scarier rides they found their dad sitting on a bench alone. "Dad!" Gordon yelled running and practically jumping into his dad's arms. "You had fun Gordy" he said ruffling the blond locks on his second youngest head. " Yer, we even went upside down". He then started jabbering at an inhumanely fast pace that no one could keep up with. " Where's John and Alan" Scott asked interrupting his brother's manic tail. Their dad pointed at a small train rollercoaster where John stood off to the side. "That's his 5th time in a row on that one". "Why isn't John on it with him" gordon asked. "Well he was, and he took him on every little coster in this section and went on with him but Alan seems to like this one. After the 3rd time in a row he got off and has been watching him since". The rest of the brothers giggled. John must have noticed them as he got Alan off the train and started walking towards them.

Allie bound up to Scott and hugged his leg. He instinctively picked him up and hugged him close. Virgil smirked at John. "He worn you out" he questioned sarcastically. "You try doing that coster multiple times in a row. It's essentially a circle I was getting dizzy" he retorted. The rest of the family just laughed. "Scott". "Yes Allie" he replied looking at him in his arms. "Big drop, I want to do the big drop". Scott put him down. "He really hasn't let that go has he" said Virgil. Scott turned to his father. "Dad please". He said in his best child-like voice. Next thing their dad knew all his sons were chiming in asking him. He looked at his youngest with pride as he reminded him so much of his late wife. "Are you sure you want to Alan." A chorus of cheers went up from his sons.

So off they went back to the 'big drop' Alan had called it. Luck was on their side (also tall genetics), as Alan was just tall enough for the ride. There were 5 seats each side so all of them could fit into the row. Scott lifted Alan up and pulled down his shoulder restraints securing him in before taking his own seat. The older boys knew exactly where to sit in order to look after the two minis. John was at the end and had Alan next to him. On the other side of Allan was Scott. And then Gordon, then Virgil. Alan looked tiny in the seat. Both John and Scott had their arms over him protectively. Gordon was grinning like a mad hatter. And Virgil on the end was making sure he was safe. While they were waiting for the ride to start the boys noticed a flash but before they had time to react the ride started to go up and their dad was waving from the ground camera in hand.

Alan loved it. He squealed at the drop. And laughed when it went back up. John and Scott were laughing hysterically at him while holding onto him. Gordon was also laughing at his brother but also was enjoying the sensation himself. Virgil was just vibing on the end while looking out for Gordon as well. Even he couldn't help chuckle at his youngest brother's screens even though he couldn't see him.

Once they got off the ride they decided to head home, after all it had been a long day. The photo had been forgotten or so they thought.

Scott walked back into the lounge and was happy he found all of his brothers there. "Where have you been asked" asked Virgil. "All your work was still open on the desk, but you weren't in the kitchen or anywhere near". Scott smiled and sank into the sofas with his brothers.

"I had to get something from dad's study... Can't remember what or why now, but I found this". He laid the picture on the table for all of them to see.

"no", said John, "it can't be". Virgil piped up "Alan's first ever big ride". All of the boys crowded in on it. "You can't say you weren't protective enough" quipped Gordon. "He's got a huge harness on and you and John still have your arms over him holding him safe". They all chuckled at that. "Did you know about this Scott" asked Alan. "No" he replied quietly. "Given how used it looks dad must have looked at it a lot" said Gordon. "Yer" replied Scott in the same quiet voice.

Nothing more was said on the photo but a few days later it appeared fully restored as a permanent fixture to the old desk. Once dad's now Scott's.

[blinktwicebaby]

“You deserve every good thing you have” Scott said in a small voice.

Been beating teenaged John up in my ao3 fan fiction lately. He just needs a reminder that he IS loved 🥺

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

General X - Chapter 1

I've decided to write a multi-chapter fic. This one follows on from my TAG Secret Santa fic, and is a crossover between Thunderbirds Are Go and Wallace and Gromit. There's a TOS Easter Egg coming later as you might have guessed from the title :-) I also posted the very first bit earlier this week.

There will be a bit more drama in this than my usual fluff, but it's suitable for all Thunderbirds Are Go/Wallace and Gromit levels of peril.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Massive thanks to @coco9728 who was my Secret Santa recipient and requested a crossover which got me writing this.

------------------

Virgil walked into the lounge to find everything was quiet. Gordon was relaxing on a sofa with a strange neon yellow drink in one hand and looking at a green toy that was still sealed in a box. Nobody else seemed to be around.

“Still buying junk from trash mines online Fish?” Virgil asked with an arched eyebrow.

“This is not junk! It's still in the box. These trousers were amazing, made by NASA. The toys were really popular in the 1990s, it's an antique.”

Virgil sighed, then prodded a couple of buttons on the remote and brought up his holographic call with Wallace and Gromit. It was evening on Tracy Island, so morning in the UK which made it a good time for a call.

“Hi Wallace. Hi Gromit, great to see you again. This is my brother Gordon” Virgil said, gesturing in Gordon's direction.

“Hi” Gordon replied, waving. Since one hand was occupied with the boxed toy and the other with the open neon drink, Gordon sensibly chose to wave the hand with the toy.

“So I thought …” Virgil trailed off as Gromit was anxiously getting Wallace's attention and pointing at something. It took both Virgil and Wallace some time to realise he was pointing at the toy Gordon had.

“Gordon, what is that?” Virgil asked.

“Oh so now you’re interested in Squid Shopping” Gordon said, putting down the drink and showcasing the boxed toy. “They’re Techno Trousers in amazing condition! Look!”

“Oh you keep those Techno Trousers right in their box Mr Tracy” Wallace replied. “Those things are more trouble than they’re worth!”

“I intend to” Gordon smiled. “They’re very collectable.”

Gromit was looking at Gordon incredulously.

“Anyway” Virgil said, changing the topic. He didn’t want to probe what Wallace or Gromit might have against the Techno Trousers, for fear that it was as bizarre as the moon rocket. “Wallace, you wanted help with the Autochef.”

“Ah yes” Wallace responded. “Never quite got that cooking robot working right, have we lad? We managed to have a whole automated bakery running at one point, but we've never got the Autochef to make a decent bolognese.”

Gromit looked doubtful at the word ‘automated’. Virgil suspected some of the alleged automation might have been Gromit himself working.

Gromit then looked over at a calendar on the wall, pointed at the door and waved to Wallace, then to Virgil and Gordon.

“Ah, heading off are you lad?” Gromit nodded. “Ah, cinema trip with Fluffles” Wallace said, reading the calendar. Gromit nodded and left the room. “He has a better social life than I do” Wallace said, leaning his chin on his hand and looking forlorn.

Virgil brought him back to the woes of the Autochef. Apparently the Autochef was an old invention, one Wallace had never quite perfected.

Virgil knew Brains would have the Autochef working in no time, since Max could already cook and far more besides, but this was something Virgil wanted to work on with Wallace. He was rather enjoying the new found friendship with the eccentric inventor.

The pair chatted through some adjustments and Wallace adjusted some settings but still the Autochef was struggling. Food seemed to be under or over done, though Gordon glanced up to suggest it was still more appetising than Grandma’s cooking.

Virgil agreed.

Suddenly Kayo leapt into the lounge, appearing from nowhere. “He’s moving! John are you there? John? We need tracking!”

John’s hologram appeared next to the scene in Wallace’s house in the middle of the lounge.

“John, we need to track … sorry Virgil, we need to terminate this for security. Wallace, I'm very sorry, another time.”

“That's OK, Ms.. . Er…”

“Kayo” Virgil finished. “We'll speak soon Wallace.”

“Excellent Virgil. It's just gone very dark you know, I'd better put some lights …”

Wallace's hologram and the scene in his house disappeared when Kayo pressed a button.

“OK, Kayo, who needs tracking?” John asked.

“The Hood John! He's launched from an abandoned quarry in Horton in Ribblesdale, England. I'm launching Shadow but I need you to track him.”

“Kayo, is this the point where Scott would tell you the Hood is the GDF's problem?” Gordon objected. “Nobody needs rescuing.”

“And I would point out to Scott that we stop the Hood before anybody needs rescuing. The GDF failed to keep him in prison” Kayo replied, before sitting in her launch seat and disappearing to begin her launch sequence.

John was watching the tracking display, moving some items round the holographic projection, which showed the Hood moving at speed.

"I don't think this is showing correctly. It looks like there's a bug in the system that's delaying his tracking.” John opened another holographic screen and started typing some code. “Kayo, does he know you're tracking him?”

“He's probably guessed. I thought it was too easy getting that tracking device on him even if it didn’t work underground. Thunderbird Shadow is go!” Kayo announced. Her hologram appeared next to John’s in the lounge.

Gordon and Virgil looked at each other. Neither knew Kayo had a tracking device on the Hood, though given the circumstances it had proven warranted. When Kayo said he’d been underground she had evidently meant literally, as he had been inside the disused quarry.

“Got it!” John announced. “OK Kayo, he's stopped moving. He’s moved approximately 50 miles from the quarry and he's hovering above a street in the town of Wigan. The coordinates are …”

“John, what's the name of the street he's hovering above?” Virgil interupted, speaking higher and quicker than usual.

“Do you know anybody in Wigan?” Gordon asked, looking confused.

“Just one, and he said it had suddenly gone dark,” Virgil answered.

Gordon’s eyes widened as he realised what Virgil meant, and John replied “He’s hovering above 62 West Wallaby Street.”

Virgil sighed. “Thunderbird 2 is go.”

[dreamcubed]

london boy | fred weasley x reader

song; london boy [taylor swift] pairing; fred weasley x fem!american!thunderbird!reader genre; s2l, fluff word count; 3,1k timeline; post-second wizarding war au (fred lives) warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption summary; after taking the plunge and moving across the world, you are unsure of how to form a new social circle and support system. it appears there was no need to worry, as you soon meet a charming man who runs a joke shop with his twin brother

a/n; this was actually suggested by an anon! sorry it took a couple months to write

masterlist

"babe, don't threaten me with a good time."

———————————————

The Second Wizarding War, while primarily occurring in battles throughout the United Kingdom, was something that had put the global wizarding world at stake. The United States were no exception, and as a recent graduate of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you decided to wander across the pond to the country where the liberty of witches and wizards was saved. That, and you had no other plans for the course of your life.

You worked for the first year after your graduation in order to save up money for the move, but you were pleased to say you had finally stepped foot in England: specifically, Diagon Alley.

It was where you had managed to rent a small flat from, as arranged thanks to your mother having connections in the area as a result of her travels back in the day. You were beyond excited to meet new people and settle into a new life.

But you did need a job.

Your savings would suffice for a few months, which would hopefully give you sufficient time to secure an income - key word, hopefully. First on the agenda, however, was exploring your new local area to see if you could make new friends early doors.

And so you found yourself stood outside a completely buzzing joke shop, after visiting the local bakery and book shop. The name of shop was written in gold: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Chadwick, that was a tongue twister - fitting, you supposed.

You pushed open the door to be greeted by both the bell tinkling above you and the sound of laughing children (and even adults) in all corners of the establishment. A smile pulled its way on to your face as you began walking towards the nearest display table, covered in enchanted prank items. You picked up what appeared to be a normal whoopie cushion, and began examining it.

"Looks normal, but is in fact quite the opposite," a British voice in your left ear caught you off guard, making you quickly turn to be greeted by a tall ginger-haired man, "First of all, it camouflages once it's set down, so anyone who's smart enough to check their seats before sitting down can't catch you out."

You stared blankly at the man.

"Second, it doesn't just make a fart sound, it produces the whole package," he grinned, "A hyper realistic fart smell - and even a greenish smoke if the person sits down with a lot of force."

You came to your senses and smiled, putting the cushion delicately back down. "I'm guessing you're Weasley?"

"One of them," he nodded, "There's two others - one of them fresh out of Hogwarts."

You hummed.

"And I was gonna ask why I don't recognise you from school, but I think your accent gives me the answer."

"Yep, I'm an Ilvermorny grad."

"First time in Britain?"

You nodded, "So far, I love it."

He grimaced, "Depends where you go, Diagon Alley gives you an idealistic impression. How long you here for?"

"Indefinitely."

"Oh?" he quirked an eyebrow, "You're living here?"

"As of today," you smiled, "Y/N. Y/N L/N."

"Fred Weasley," he replied, "Allow me to be your first friend in this foreign country."

You giggled at his feigned poshness.

"What are your plans for work?" he asked, beginning to walk away. Instinctively, you began following him.

You shrugged, "I don't know. Haven't thought that far ahead."

"Oh?"

"I have some money saved while I settle in and find a job."

"That's good," he nodded.

"Have you always wanted to run a joke shop?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah. Always," he said with a smile, "Me and my twin brother, George, have loved pranks since we were kids."

You raised an eyebrow, "Twin?"

"Identical - well, used to be. He has a missing ear now so no one ever mixes us up anymore. Sad, really."

You didn't have to ask how he lost the ear.

"Our younger brother, Ron, decided to join us too. Although I don't think it's a childhood dream of his."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Six."

Your eyes widened, "Six?"

"Five brothers, one sister."

"Your poor sister."

"Well, she's not doing too bad for herself. She's just starting her quidditch career and she's dating none other than Harry Potter so," he shrugged.

"You know Harry Potter?"

He laughed, "Well, I went to school with him, so yeah. Although I suppose I am a bit closer than normal as Ron's his best mate and my sister's dating him. He actually helped fund the start of this very establishment."

"That's cool."

Fred beamed at you, "Wanna grab a coffee after my shift?"

***

"So, yeah, that's how I ended up losing my virginity to a no-maj," you finished off, sipping on your piccolo, "Poor guy doesn't know he lost his to a witch."

"How do you know it was his first time?" Fred chuckled, sat opposite you, having been intently listening to the story.

"Because he started crying afterwards saying how God was never gonna forgive him for not saving himself for marriage," you said through stifled laughter.

By this point, Fred was practically cackling.

"Honestly, I took it as a compliment. I'm sexy enough to get a guy to suspend his beliefs for a couple hours."

"Not surprised about that," he gave the slightest of smirks to you.

You stopped laughing, suddenly feeling flushed and embarrassed.

"You told a guy you just met how you lost your virginity and only now you get shy?"

You scoffed, "I didn't realise there were rules around when I'm allowed to get shy."

Fred shrugged, "There should be- by that I mean, you should have to do it more. You're cute when you're shy."

You couldn't help your lips from stretching into a grin.

"Oh, shit, is that the time?"

"What?"

"I agreed to meet some of my brothers and friends for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh-"

"Wanna come?" he quickly asked.

You frowned, "I don't wanna intrude."

"Don't be silly, I grew up on a 'the more, the merrier' policy."

"Well, if you're sure- fuck it."

***

"Fred, there you are!" a voice rang out from the bar, where a group of guys were gathered.

"Where you been, mate?" a man identical to Fred (save for a missing ear) said.

"If you'd been at the shop today, you'd know."

George, the name you remembered from Fred's many stories, laughed, "I'm just teasing. Ron told me," he nodded his head towards one of the other ginger men in the group. That was when he turned to look at you. "So, you're the mysterious lady Freddie disappeared off with."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N."

"Ooh, accent!" the man who had initially called out to you both said.

"Alright, alright. Y/N, that's Lee there, this is my twin, George- obviously. Over there is Ron, Wood, and one of my older brothers, Bill."

They all greeted you.

"So, where in America you from?" Bill asked.

***

Some way, some how, many firewhiskeys later you found yourself laughing your ass off with a bunch of guys you had only met a few hours ago. You were drunker than the rest of them, that was for sure, as despite US drinking laws not having stopped you from drinking to drunkenness before, they still meant you had had less opportunity to do so. Thus, your tolerance wasn't good.

At some point during the evening, your group had migrated from the bar to a larger table in the corner, where you sat with Fred's arm around you.

"Oh, come on, Ron, you have to admit it's a little ironic that your girlfriend is on her way to be the next Minister of Magic meanwhile you run a joke shop," George said through wheezes.

Ron's expression suddenly went solemn, "How could you say that to me?"

Everyone went silent for a few moments, until Ron erupted in laughter again with everyone else swiftly following. You found it even funnier that the jokes weren't actually funny anymore: you all were just plastered.

As the laughter died down again, you turned to Fred at your side, "I like your friends."

"Better not like 'em more than me," he said, "I know it's only been a day but I'd like to think I've already called dibs on you."

"Called dibs on me?"

"Yeah, well, dibs on being the first British guy you date."

You grinned, "That's up to you to make it happen, London boy."

"I'm not even from London," he retorted.

"Eh, tomato, tomato."

***

How things ended up well past midnight with you stumbling down Diagon Alley, a red headed man helping support your weight, and an unhealthy amount of alcohol in your system - you didn't know. All you knew is that you had learned so much about the man in the last several hours that you felt very comfortable with him.

"Okay, love, is this your flat?"

"Yeah, that's the one," you slurred, moving towards the stairs that led up the side.

"Woah, hold up there, pretty girl," he said, quickly aiding you so you didn't trip and break your face, "You shoulda told us you were a lightweight. We wouldn'ta ordered you so many."

You grumbled, but didn't say anything in response, instead fumbling around in your pockets for your keys.

"Fred, I can't find them," you whined.

He pulled out his wand, "Alohamora." The door clicked open. "I see you haven't put an anti-unlocking charm on your flat yet."

"I literally just moved in."

"I feel like it's a first priority."

You didn't reply, instead tumbling forward into your new small home. Again, Fred steadied your weight, chuckling to himself in the process.

"You need to get to bed."

After helping you get your shoes off, Fred walked you to your bedroom and watched in amusement as you collapsed on to the mattress.

"You all good from here, sweetheart?"

You hummed softly, "Thank you, Freddie."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "If you're not too hungover, stop by the shop tomorrow. I can set you up with a job."

"Really?"

"Of course. I have a sneaky feeling you're gonna be in my life for a while."

You giggled, "Me too."

"Alright, I'll see you. Take care."

"You too-" you yawned, "-Freddie."

***

It was mid-afternoon by the time you made it to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, still nursing a hangover but feeling better after a long shower, a painkilling potion and a big glass of a fizzy non-alcoholic drink.

"Oh, good, you're here," Fred opened the door, seeing as the shop was in fact shut. They functioned on weekend days of Monday and Tuesday since Saturday and Sunday were prime business days. (Apart from in the lead up to school starting again, as George explained in detail to you the night prior how they couldn't miss out on any day of the week when Diagon Alley was swarmed with kids.)

"You seem perkier than me," you grumbled, entering the unusually quiet store.

"I didn't get nearly as drunk as you," he reminded, walking towards the back room, "Anyway, I assume you're here for the job?"

You nodded, "That... and to see you."

He gave you a soft smile at that, "You're always welcome."

"You literally met me yesterday."

"What? Were you too drunk to remember what I said last night?"

You suppressed a smile, "No."

"Then you know. Call it divine intuition if you will but you're gonna be around for a while."

"I certainly don't plan on leaving," you replied, following him into the office area.

"Well, let's set you up for a job here then."

"It's really nice of you to do this."

He winked at you, "I don't do favours for free."

"What do you want in return?" you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Another date."

You grinned, "I think I could agree to those terms."

***

Not even a week later, you and Fred were walking down Diagon Alley, ready to go out for lunch for your second date. An hour ago, the sun had been shining brightly in the sky, warming your exposed skin. Now, the shimmery blues had been veiled by a thick layer of dark grey clouds, casting a shadow over the bustling street. You heard Fred, a normally cheerfully optimistic man (as you had quickly learned), let out a sigh.

"Looks like the forecast has taken a turn," just as he finished his sentence, droplets began cascading down from above, growing in intensity by the second.

You couldn't help but giggle slightly.

"Doesn't this bother you?"

You laughed harder, "No. I like it."

Fred smiled at you, "Really? A rainy date?"

You shrugged, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Well, okay, then."

He held out his hand to you, and you took it, letting him twirl you around before you both continued walking in the direction of the café he had in mind.

"Your smile is so pretty," he commented after some moments of delicate silence.

You couldn't help but beam at his words, "Really?"

He hummed, "I could look at it for the rest of my life."

In your chest, your heart was performing somersaults like a circus acrobat, and it was making you feel giddy. This was the most alive you had ever felt and you never wanted to let it go.

"Do it then," you replied, "Nothing's stopping you."

He stopped in his tracks, forcing you to halt as well since your hand remained interlocked with his.

"What?" you asked, looking back at him from your position one step forward.

"Can I?" he spoke with a soft gaze, the usual mischievous glint absent.

"Can you what?"

"Look at your smile forever?"

You shrugged limply, "If you can make me smile forever, sure."

"Can I say something crazy?"

"I would expect nothing less from you."

"I kinda want to marry you."

"Kinda?" you raised an eyebrow, feeling the swarm of butterflies spinning in your stomach but remaining calm and collected on the outside.

"I know we only met a week ago, but what would you say if I asked?"

"Guess you'll have to learn the hard way," you gave him a cheeky grin.

"Okay," he said, and it was only then you realised that the rain had caused the street to clear out of most people. Your eyes widened as he got down on one knee, still holding your hand. Suddenly, you could no longer feel your wet hair clinging to your face, nor your damp clothes sticking to your skin. Not because they had dried, but because all your focus was elsewhere.

You were pretty sure you had forgotten how to breathe.

"Y/N, in the short time I've known you, which is admittedly very short, I have had so much fun," he began, "And as I said right at the beginning, I have a feeling that you're gonna be around a while, it's why I even came over to talk to you the first time you entered my shop- I felt drawn to you. And, well, I'm known for my impulsive decisions, but they've all worked out so far, so, I have no reason not to act on this one too," he took a deep breath, "I don't have a ring right now, but will you marry me?"

You stood, stunned. You hadn't thought he would actually propose to you.

"Don't feel pressured to say yes," he quickly added, making you snap out of your daze.

You shook your head, "Yes- I'll marry you, Freddie."

The man's face lit up as he zoomed to his feet and picked you up, spinning you around as your lips touched each other's for the first time. You couldn't believe it: Fred Weasley was now your fiancé, when he was never even your boyfriend.

"Now, what say we go get some food to celebrate?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me."

***

THREE YEARS LATER.

***

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiator called out, "You may kiss the bride."

You watched from the crowd as Ron pressed his lips to Hermione's, joining the rest of the audience with the applauding.

"This is a lot grander than our wedding," Fred leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You laughed gently, "Ours was a much more last minute affair, Freddie."

"Mm, how long was our engagement again?"

"Three weeks," you reminded, "The courting only lasted a week too."

"What can I say? I'm a man who knows what I want."

You shook your head with a smile, picking up the applause again as Hermione and Ron began posing for photos from the photographer.

"Oh, they're calling us up now," Fred said, grabbing your hand and pulling you up to the altar with him. All of the Weasley siblings and their partners were also en route to where the newly weds were.

As you took your position in the photograph with Fred's arm wrapped around you, he leaned down to whisper in your ear yet again.

"Can I just say, my love, you look absolutely gorgeous- as always."

Your bright smile was one of the most genuine in the photograph, as Hermione later commented, and in response to that Fred had immediately taken a copy for your own house.

"What?" he had said when you raised an eyebrow at him, "I told you, I want to stare at your smile forever."

You chuckled.

"And you said I can, provided I make you smile."

You hummed, recalling the conversation that led up to his impromptu proposal fondly.

"And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm the one that made you smile in this photo."

Unable to argue with him, you gazed at the moving photograph of Fred turning his head away from your ear to smile at the camera. It hadn't quite captured the moment in which he complimented your looks, but it didn't need to, as you knew that you would never forget the context for the image.

Not when your smile really did shine so brightly in it.

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masterlist

written; 19/04/2023 —> 31/05/2023 published; 31/05/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys​