#thunderbirds fandom

[thatkidwholikesthunderbirds]

Hi, hello!! Here he is!!

I drew everything from memory so I'm sorry if there's any mistakes, honestly I can barely even remember what Alan's astroboard looks like lol. (;^^)

[thunderbird1lover]

So I think I've finally finished this little painting! I'll probs add a few more details later on but for now I think this is it!

[colourobserver]

Omg, what if after the hydrofoil accident, Gordon had ablutophobia or some other phobia of—or to do with—water.

He would be scared to be in or feel something that he loves/loved so deeply.

To the point that he couldn’t even wash himself and stuff after he woke up from the accident without freaking out or panicking.

He would hate himself for being like it and be too embarrassed to tell anyone.

It would absolutely wreck him.

Hmm…I could see this going somewhere.

What would happen when his brothers found out?

Has something like this already been done?

[blinktwicebaby]

“Perhaps he wouldn’t return to the vault when he found Alan after all. Life in the wastelands was hard, but it was also possible.”

I’ve obsessed over this idea since I started posting my crossover fic on ao3 (the lies about vault life). I decided to practice my shading by throwing Scott into a vault suit. I’m actually pretty happy with how most of this one turned out!

[call-me-casual]

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

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

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

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

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

[katblu42]

Cheeky Fic reblog . . . The Letter

Because it came to mind while reading some of the RP blogs today.

(Can be read on AO3 here)

Warnings for grief/mourning and mention of death. I may have cried while writing this.

Response to another Flash Fiction Friday prompt (#162 - The Letter) Scott finds an old letter, written by a young Virgil, that stirs some painful memories.

“Scott?” Virgil approached his big brother quietly, cautiously.  “Are you okay?”

The piece of paper he held was shaking slightly, and when Scott looked up at Virgil his sapphire blues were glistening with unshed tears.

“I …” he swallowed hard and held the fragile piece of slightly yellowed paper out for Virgil to see.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Virgil’s eyes widened as he scanned the handwritten words on the page and recognised the content.

“Where did you find this?”  Scott seemed unable to respond for a moment, but Virgil’s eyes were glued to the page.  Some of the ink was smudged with some kind of water damage – two distinct round spots near the bottom of the page – but the paper was dry, the damage old.  “I mean, I remember writing it but I don’t remember keeping it, or giving it to anyone.”

Scott pointed to the pieces of a picture frame on the desk.  The frame that usually held one of the last photographs of all five boys with both parents.  Along side the photo and the broken frame were a few other small pieces of paper, some with their mother’s handwriting on them, a pressed flower that Virgil recognised as one of Mom’s favourites and a scrap of embroidered fabric.

“Dad must have kept these things hidden in the back of the frame.  Reminders of her, I guess.  But the letter …”

Dear Mom,

I don’t really know why I’m writing this letter.  I just miss you so much and I didn’t know what else to do.

I wanted to talk to Scott because we always tell each other everything, but I don’t think he really wants to talk about this right now.  I know he’s hurting just like we all are but he seems to be coping by keeping everything as normal as possible for everyone else.  Especially Alan.

Scott is the one making sure all the chores get done and everyone gets to where they need to be on time and does their homework and stuff.  He’s taken charge, which is good because Dad’s not really doing that right now, but it’s bad because I think Scott’s not letting himself be sad that you’re gone.  He’s trying not to give himself time to think about it.

I can’t talk to Dad.  No one can.  Except maybe Grandma sometimes.  He went back to work so quick after the funeral and he stays there late a lot.  When he is home it’s like he hides in his office.  I’m not sure, but I think being in the house with all of us but not you hurts him too much.  Sometimes it even feels like he can’t look at us without seeing that you’re missing.

Gordon and Alan are too little.  I mean Alan still asks when you’ll be coming home.  He doesn’t understand what never means and Scott and John and I don’t really know how to explain it, so we just don’t and hug him tight instead. 

Gordon is old enough to understand death means we never get to have you here with us anymore but he wants to know why Heaven can’t have visitors.  He has so many things he wants to show you and ask you about.  I hope it’s okay I told him he could always talk to you because you can still listen even if you can’t answer.

Sometimes I worry a bit about John.  I can’t talk to him about this stuff either because I know he’s struggling with it too.  He’s gone quiet.  Even more quiet than normal.  He still helps with Alan and Gordon and does all his chores but I don’t think I’ve seen him smile or heard him laugh since you died.  Not even when Allie and Gordon get up to their mischief.  Plus he hasn’t gone up to the roof to look at the stars at all in ages.  Not even when I offered to go up with him.  I know you two used to stargaze together.  I wish you could let him know it’s okay for him to do that without you.

Mom, it’s so hard without you.  Sometimes I don’t know what to do and I know that if you were here you would have the answers and I feel so lost because I don’t know who else to turn to.  I miss you so much and I wish more than anything that I could have you back just for a day.

Love you always, Virgil.

“Why would he keep this?” Virgil’s fingers traced the creases where the paper had been repeatedly folded.  “How did he even get hold of it in the first place?”

“Why did you write it?”

Virgil finally tore his eyes away from the letter and looked back at Scott.  He couldn’t form the words to explain, but some of the emotional turmoil he felt was mirrored in his brother’s face and he realised he didn’t have to.  And suddenly his big brother was wrapping him in a welcome embrace.

“You were grieving and felt like you had no one you could confide in,” Scott said softly.  “I think when Dad found it he realised he needed to be there for us more and kept it to remind him of that.  We should have been there for you, Virge.  I’m sorry.”

“You were,” Virgil whispered back, returning the hug.  “In the end even Dad was better at it – all of us being there for each other, no matter what.”

[selene-tempest]

Our Biographer has taken a break over Christmas (apparently we are a lot to deal with, lies I tell you) but John and I , along with the other idiots, wanted to wish you all a happy and SAFE Christmas. Emphasis on the safe, we don't want to have to come out in the middle of dinner to save your sorry butt.

Anyway, we're gonna spend the rest of Christmas Eve in bed I'm going to watch Muppets Christmas Carol and he's going to ignore it and me.

Lots of love x

[squiddokiddo]

Thinking about doing TAG episode reviews if anyone's interested in my unhinged ramblings over this goddamn show.

[willow-salix]

So erm... I was just on Ao3 looking for your fic but I couldn't find it...

Because you haven't written it yet.

Better get on that.

And yes, I'm calling myself out here too.

[thatkidwholikesthunderbirds]

Rough Virgil doodle, too tired to clean it up but I think it adds some ruggedness to him tho.🌲💚

[thunderbird1lover]

Just some WIP. First time canvas painting so fingers crossed it goes well🤞

Any tips would be awsome 💚

[colourobserver]

We have a chicken coup and one of the hens has a bunch of little chicks.

Today I watched what happens when a snake tries to attack the mother hen’s chicks.

When I tell you predator and prey swapped positions and this Chicken beat the crap out of the venomous snake, I mean, I wish it was on camera. And while this was a highly stressful situation, the whole time I couldn’t stop thinking about how this Mother hen is Scott Tracy in another universe. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Look at what you authors have done to my brain!

[blinktwicebaby]

‘I close my eyes- only for a moment and the moments gone’

Is it the best thing I’ve drawn? Nah. Is it the worst? Not by a long shot!

[call-me-casual]

I’ve seen plenty of “older little brothers helping look after Scott and let him rest to remind him he’s human.”

But am yet to see any “The tinies realise how much Scott gave up in childhood and begin an organised effort to try and heal his inner child.”

Where’s the good shit guys tell me

[katblu42]

Hand Warmers

For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt #279 Warm Hands.

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go Characters: Gordon and Virgil Word Count: approx 953 Domestic fluff (no warnings apply as far as I can tell).

Gordon was well known within his family for suffering from the affliction of cold hands.  Virgil in particular had fallen victim to icy fingers placed against warm skin on numerous occasions.  But, in his defence, Gordon found this particular big brother was the most effective heat source for warming frosty digits. 

Of course, it also helped that Virgil was often the only brother in range when this was needed, and despite the initial grumbling, he was also usually quite amenable to lending body heat to a little brother in need.

Virgil himself seemed to always have warm hands – at least in Gordon’s experience.  It didn’t seem to matter where he was, or what he was doing, if Gordon placed a distractingly cold hand anywhere on Virgil’s exposed skin there was glorious warmth to be shared. Then those familiar, big, warm hands would soon be deployed to enfold his own and work some much needed heat into them.

It kind of made sense.  Virgil’s hands always seemed to be moving – dancing across the piano keys, applying brushstrokes to canvas, or sketching on almost any surface, artfully deploying exactly the right tool for anything that needed fixing, or gently but deftly applying first aid. 

But for Gordon the most memorable thing those well-muscled and well-used hands could do was to give expert massages to sooth overworked swimmer’s muscles, or gently relax a cramp.  He couldn’t remember how or when it started, but it had been quite a regular thing between them.  Somehow Virgil always seemed to know exactly when he needed the sweet relief of warmth and pressure working all the tension out of his back, shoulders and neck, and would be there to provide it in exactly the right measure.

He'd often wished he could return the favour, and with today’s rescue being as rough as it was, Gordon could see that now was the perfect time to do so.  But he couldn’t even approach those heavy-lifting muscles without doing some important preparation first.

Luckily, preparation was something Gordon was very good at.  He usually employed this talent when planning pranks, but the surprise he was planning this time should produce a much more favourable response.  And preparation for this one had begun during post-flight checks when Thunderbird Two had returned to her hangar.

Under the guise of restocking the medical supplies Gordon had grabbed a couple of the tiny packets containing air-activated heat packs.  Later, once checks were completed, uniforms shed and he’d showered and changed into his regular attire, the packets were opened and shaken and then clutched in each hand.

After half an hour with the little heat packets kept within reach – in his pockets when not in direct contact with his hands – he deemed himself ready to put the next phase of the plan into action.

Virgil was sitting at their dad’s desk, most likely making a start on post-rescue paperwork when Gordon decided to make his move.  Making his stealthy approach from behind, avoiding the squeaky floorboard, he gave the little heat packs in each pocket one last firm squeeze each.

When he placed his warm hands on his big brother’s shoulders he felt the muscles tense at the unexpected contact.

“Gor- . . . Gordon?” Virgil’s voice started with the low warning tone that usually accompanied an unapproved activity, but quickly rose in pitch and inflection.

“The one and only!”

As Virgil tried to turn his head to face him, Gordon gently redirected the movement with one hand and started kneading tense muscles with the other.

“What are you doing?” Virgil directed his gaze forward again, allowing Gordon to knead with both hands.  “And how are your hands so warm?  They’re never this warm!  What did you do?”

Gordon chuckled.  “Don’t you worry about that.  Just relax and let me do this for you.”

Right on cue he found and pressed against a particularly tough little knot that had Virgil groaning and relaxing into the massage as the knot released.  There was an easy silence between them for a while, broken only by the soft grunts that let Gordon know he was finding all the right spots.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”  Virgil asked somewhat sleepily.

“Kind of from you.  I’ve been on the receiving end enough times.”  He paused a moment, concentrating his attention on another nasty knot.  “But I’ve always kind of wondered how you learned to be so good at giving massages.”

“I guess it started when you decided to get serious about swimming competitively.  I wanted to be able to support you, and I had an interest in medical treatments, so I looked into the kinds of medical complaints swimmers often experienced and how to treat them.  I mostly learned from video tutorials and trial and error on unsuspecting family members.”

Gordon laughed again.  “Well, I’m very glad you did.  Of all the massages I’ve had, yours are always the best.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gordon.  There’s no way my efforts can compare with a professional.”

Gordon paused his thumb circles long enough to offer a playful tap to the side of Virgil’s head.

“I’m not kidding, Virge.  You’re massage skills are awesome, and I need you to know I appreciate every single one you’ve given me over the years.  And if the tension that was in these heavy lifting muscles is anything to go by, I think I need more chances to pay you back.”

It was Virgil’s turn to give a chuckle.

“If you think I’m bad you should try it on Scott.  When he’s tense his neck and shoulder muscles feel like steel girders.”

They were both laughing now. “No, I think I’ll leave Scott’s tense muscles to your magic fingers!”