pareidoliaonthemove - Tumblr blog

pareidoliaonthemove · 3 days

Text

A Little Revenge

It had been intended as an escape from whatever doom was poised over his head.

Snorkelling or diving, even doing an inspection of Tracy Island’s underwater environs in Thunderbird Four was Gordon’s favourite way to avoid irate brothers, or, god forbid, grandmother or sister. Once Scott and Dad had gotten over their reflexive panic of ‘Gordon’s in the ocean; sharks are in the ocean. Oh-mi-god, Gordon’s gonna be eaten by a shark’, Gordon had more or less been left to roam their marine backyard at will, provided he took a variety of safety equipment and checked in at regular intervals with John on Thunderbird Five.

So when Gordon had announced he was going to spend the morning snorkelling on the northern reef, he hadn’t expected anyone to join him.

That his companion was Virgil was of particular concern.

His immediate older brother was a competent diver (Gordon had made sure everyone was safe in the water), and he did take an interest in the marine environment – although it usually took the form of raiding whatever footage Gordon had taken on his explorations and inspections for inspiration for new paintings or music. So it wasn’t totally unprecedented.

What worried Gordon was the fact that a week earlier, he had … miscalculated a prank designed to loosen up Virgil’s nerves (which the man could have used as musical instrument – probably a cello, given his size). Instead of a cute little brightly coloured foam volcano fizzing cheerfully from a tiny paint tin, it had somehow fermented into a seemingly never-ending explosive geyser hurling massive globs of foam throughout the lounge. And given Virgil’s preferred perch on the mezzanine, the fountain had an extra height advantage. It managed to coat liberal portions of the photovoltaic glass ceiling, only to then rain down onto everything below.

Of course, Alan had quickly dobbed Gordon in, playing Judas to save his own scrawny neck, and Eos had happily provided the film evidence. John evidently busy reviewing footage to ensure his own possessions were prank free.

An alarmingly magenta hued Scott had informed Gordon that Gordon would personally clean up all traces of the mess, with his toothbrush and tongue if he made one – just one, Gordon! – sound of protest.

Virgil had contented himself with collecting up his ruined canvas and disappearing to parts unknown, leaving his ruined boots at the edge of the contamination. His clothes had appeared in the laundry with everyone else’s, but the man himself didn’t put in an appearance until breakfast the next morning.

And Gordon had been walking on eggshells ever since. It had taken three days, working around rescues, to restore the lounge to its original colour scheme, and hoping Scott’s inspection wouldn't include free climbing the rock walls to ensure that the portions of the rough-hewn mountain not visible from the ground levels were cleaned.

And Virgil hadn’t said a word.

Well, not about the incident.

Scott raged, Grandma lectured, John threatened, Alan ‘duded’, Kayo’s mere presence threatened Gordon to even think about putting a foot out of line and Brains was, inevitably, oblivious to the whole affair. While Virgil … carried on as if nothing had happened.

Gordon wasn’t fooled, as calm and easy-going as Virgil was, there was no way he was going to let what had happened go without extracting revenge.

And Virgil was of the school of thought that held that revenge should be swift and proportional to the crime. So for it to have been a week since the ‘incident’ with no payback … it was uncharacteristic. And worrying.

So to say Gordon was nervous was an understatement.

So if Gordon spent rather longer than usual checking over Virgil’s gear before they got in the small boat to head around to the north of the Island, it was understandable. After all, he was going to be on the exact opposite side of the island from the rest of his family, with the one person who was currently out for his blood.

Other than the Hood.

And the Mechanic – man, did he have a thing about wrecking Gordon’s pride and joy!

And not to forget Parker.

And Sherbet.

But Virgil didn’t have anything sinister – like, for instance a length of chain, a large anchor and gallons of fish guts and blood for tying up aquanauts and enticing sharks to eat them. Just his regulation snorkelling gear, and his large semi-robotic underwater camera.

Gordon relaxed slightly. Virgil had been fiddling with upgrades to the camera rig recently, and obviously wanted to test out his current pet project.

So it was a somewhat more relaxed Gordon that steered the little electric motorboat out of the boat-house cavern and around the island, mooring the aptly named ‘Squids Getaway’ to the buoy fifty metres out from the edge of the reef.

One last check over of their gear, a quick reminder of the plan for the dive, and a mandatory status report to John, and they were over the side and into the water.

Gordon immediately headed shorewards to the reef, while Virgil spent a minute fussing over his camera, but he soon overtook Gordon, hitching a ride on the rig as it zizzed along to commence the path Virgil had programmed into it.

Gordon quickly caught up, pride refusing to let a brother beat him in the water, especially when said brother cheated, but quickly lost himself in his inspection of the reef, and the census he had planned on conducting.

It all quickly settled comfortably, Virgil cruised idly among the corals, popping up to the surface to breathe more frequently that Gordon needed to. All that muscle mass his brother sported might be a godsend on a rescue, but it was a liability underwater. But he quickly descended again and resumed his consideration of the reef, carefully not touching anything.

Gordon kept an eye out for Virgil, as he knew Virgil was keeping an eye out for him. The only problem that seemed to be occurring was Virgil’s dratted camera seemed to be following him, bursting into his peripheral vision from behind him with an annoying frequency. As Virgil meandered closer to him, Gordon reached out to tap his shoulder and flourished his divers slate at him. “Keep camera clear. Nearly bumps into me,” scrawled on it.

Virgil peered at the slate, flushed and signed ‘Sorry’, before pulling up his control unit and tapping at buttons. The camera immediately altered course, heading out into deeper water, before circling back around to Virgil’s side.

Gordon signed back ‘Thanks’, and ‘Carry on’, before returning to his census of the reef’s inhabitants. At first, it seemed to be going well, but gradually Gordon noticed that the various reef fishes seemed less shy than normal. Gordon thought it was curious, but decided that the inhabitants of this section of reef had become accustomed to his presence – after all, he had been focusing on this particular sector lately.

But then the fishes seemed to be crowding him, swarming around his head, darting in at him and then back again. In and out, in and out, the waters around his face and head seemed to have become a marine merry-go-round, fish darted in at his head, backed off away, and then joined a cue to come back to what appeared to be designated points to dart back at his head.

Gordon frowned. This was feeding behaviour. But what were they eating?

Gordon twisted in the water, looking for something behind him, but there was nothing there, just the ever increasing school of various fish.

He didn’t see the hāpuku coming.

The meter-long fish lunged into the school, mouth agape, and engulfed a largish fish in the crowd. As the hāpuku continued on its way, it slid past Gordon’s nose, as he turned his head to identify the large block of movement in his peripheral vision. It’s powerful tail slapped the snorkel out of his mouth, sending it spiralling down towards the seafloor.

Gordon grabbed at it, missed, and kicked immediately up for the surface.

Virgil surfaced a couple of dozen feet from him, his camera rig bobbing up beside him. Gordon immediately struck out towards him, quickly covering the distance.

“Did you get that?! Tell me you got that!” Gordon’s excitement was palpable.

“The groper slapping you upside the head? Yeah, I got that.”

Gordon frowned. “New Zealand waters, Virg. It’s hāpuku, not groper. Or wreckfish.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Cultural sensitivity.”

Virgil blinked. “Oh. Right.” He frowned. “Has that happened before?”

“Lost my snorkel? Hundreds of times. You know I buy them by the crate.”

“No, all the fish …” Virgil gestured a circle around his head.

Gordon frowned. “No,” he admitted. “That was weird. That was feeding behaviour, but what were they eating?” He ran a hand through his hair in confusion.

And brought his hand back in front of his face, staring at the greasy yellow goo that liberally coated his fingers. “What?”

He brought his hand to his face and sniffed, then incredulously stuck his tongue out and licked at the substance.

“Is this … spray cheese?” Gordon stared at Virgil in perplexity. His other hand reached back, and encountered more of the same.

Virgil grinned, his camera rose higher in the water, and tilted upwards. A second later a jet of spray cheese shot at Gordon’s face, hitting him square between the eyes.

Gordon’s jaw dropped, and he was in danger of taking on a lungful of seawater.

Virgil smirked. “Yup.”

“You …”

“Yup.”

“The camera …”

“Yup.”

Gordon stared, treading water as gobs of spray cheese dripped off his face.

Virgil edged closer to him, and put extra energy into his treading water, lifting him higher out of the water to loom over Gordon, his eyebrows creased into an ominous frown.

“A little taste of what will happen to you if you ever – repeat ever – mess with my paints again, Gordon. Understand me?”

Gordon gulped. “Yes, Virgil. I understand perfectly.”

“Good.” Virgil smirked. “I think it’s time we went home, don’t you?”

Gordon nodded, his eyes wide as he stared at his immediate older brother. Damn, Virgil could be scary when he wanted to.

Gordon more than agreed he had to get home.

He had some booby traps to defuse.

Before Virgil went back into his studio.

Notes:

I saw a throwaway line somewhere about feeding reef fish with ‘cheez whiz’. A couple of days later I thought, I bet Gordon would stick that on someone’s hair. And then I thought again ...

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.

#thunderbirds are go #fanfiction #fanfic #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #snorkelling #revenge

22 notes · View notes

pareidoliaonthemove · 3 days

Text

Reblog with your score

#3 #doom #tetris #age of empires

90K notes · View notes

pareidoliaonthemove · 4 days

Text

odin is like “when thor was born the sun shone bright upon his beautiful face. i found loki on the sidewalk outside a taco bell”

#languages #funny

413K notes · View notes

pareidoliaonthemove · 6 days

Text

Alan deals with failed rescues by using the mission mod hack of an old cult classic swords and sorcery computer game, he designs a mission loosely based around the rescue and then 'wins' the scenario.

It took John longer than he will ever admit to realise that modder 'Vanquished Reaper' is his littlest brother. The others don't know. Alan doesn't want then to think he can't cope; and John will never admit that HE plays the game ....

Question of the day

How do you think each of the brothers cope? What techniques do you think they use individually?

In the moment or after?

Thoughts?

Nutty

(Who didn’t write today so I’m antsy)

12 notes · View notes

pareidoliaonthemove · 8 days

Text

AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!

Five times Virgil tackled loopy family members, and one time they tackled him (Part Six, Bit 1)

This is an attempt to finish this fic off. Unfortunately, this last part is big and I was unable to fully complete it this morning. But there is some Tracy boy action in this, so I hope you enjoy what should be the first half of the last chapter of this fic.

Now I have to go to work, drat it.

-o-o-o-

…and one time his family had to tackle him.

It was another fire.

Virgil had seen so many wildfires now they were at Tuesday status. Didn’t mean they weren’t tiring.

It was a full team effort and they had been at it for hours in the Californian hills. Virgil wanted to curse the eucalypts that weren’t supposed to be here, but honestly the native pines burned just as much, both full of flammable sap that just set the fires roaring.

At first he had stayed in Two, water-bombing with local fire services and laying down a firebreak to stop it all from getting into suburbia.

There lay the nightmare. The few times a wildfire had breached a city limits were all on Virgil’s most hated rescues list. Not that fire anywhere wasn’t horrible, but the city increased the density of human lives and ever so many more were inevitably lost.

Once the firebreak was set, he went back to slowing it down, but then some fire personnel were trapped and he had to leap out of Two to save them. A family who should have evacuated earlier also found themselves trapped on their property ahead of the fire front and again Virgil was the only one able to reach them.

By this time he already had his firesuit on and with a second thought also grabbed his exosuit. There was no indication it was needed, but he felt much more secure with it on.

Gordon called it his ‘wooby-suit’. Well, once, Virgil’s reaction had been sufficient to nub that one in the bud.

His brother still snickered on occasion when Virgil announced he was suiting up.

His fish brother really was a little shit at times.

A loveable one, but a shit nonetheless.

The house was a two storey at the very end of a cul-de-sac. Its driveway disappeared into the trees and as Virgil landed Two in the path of the oncoming fire, he had a few curse words for those who didn’t follow wildfire prevention protocols.

Two barely fit on the dead-end road, her backend almost nudging one of the other primly neat, ordered and now deserted homes.

At least one garden gnome met a gruesome end.

Virgil barely noticed. Moments and he was running down that winding dirt driveway. It appeared that it was one of those hidden pathways to a lot bigger property. Fortunately, John was in his ear with clear and concise directions.

A house appeared after a decent jog through the trees, Virgil frowned. There was no car packed for an emergency retreat. It all appeared deserted.

Only the backdrop of smoke and the ash drifting on the air gave the landscape any urgency.

“They are sheltering in the basement.” He could hear the frown in John’s voice.

“Well, get them out here. I don’t have time to dig them out.”

“I have been trying. They are quite panicked.”

John was interrupted by Scott. “Thunderbird Two, you are needed on the south-west flank, we have break through.”

“FAB, Thunderbird One. Retrieving two rescuees. ETA in ten.”

“Make it five, we have unevacuated civilians in the fire’s path.”

Again?

What the hell?

“FAB, Thunderbird One.”

Damnit.

The house itself could have stood in for one of those horror films. Tall, two storey, made of wood, not maintained too well. Even its paintwork screamed black and white Hitchcock.

Virgil didn’t bother with the front door, instead scooting around the side of the building to a set of external cellar doors. He banged on the wood with a claw. “International Rescue!” No response. “You called for help?”

“Virgil!” John’s voice was panicked.

A man appeared out of nowhere, yelling something incomprehensible. Virgil staggered backwards at a sharp pain in his arm. Someone else tried to grab him.

What the-?

“Get the damned machine off him! Cut the hydraulics!”

Virgil reacted, spinning where he stood, exosuit arms coming up in defence. Kayo’s instructions chanting in his mind, unbidden.

Disable and run. That’s all you have to do, Virgil. You don’t want to fight. Don’t fight. Run!

He wasn’t very manoeuvrable in the suit, but he was practised. Keep moving. Don’t let them immobilise you!

His right claw was a huge weapon and it barrelled into two men as he spun.

“Goddamnit! Get it right the third time, you idiots!” A woman’s voice and Virgil realised the cellar doors were open. She was climbing out to join the fray.

He spun, hitting someone else. How many were there? What did they want?

Why?

John shouted something in Virgil’s ear. Something about Scott.

Someone jumped onto his back, a hand blocking his vision as it gripped his helmet.

Pain as cold metal cut into the shoulder of his uniform.

Virgil set his feet and disengaged the exosuit, flinging himself away.

He hit dirt as the woman yelled at the men again, but he didn’t give himself time to register what she said, instead launching himself off the ground and running just as Kayo had told him to do.

“Get him, you idiots!”

Virgil’s breath was harsh in his ears as he put everything into his legs towards the safety of Two. His fire suit hampered him and he wished for the umpteenth time in his life that he had Scott or John’s long legs. But life had gifted him with strong, sturdy, and a damn sight shorter. He was literally made for heavy lifting.

And not for running.

But run he did.

For the trees.

His brain screamed at him about the fire hazard, about the glow above those trees, the ash dancing in the air, but he needed cover. A mix of eucalypt and pine waving in the hot wind.

Sparks drifting lazily past.

He wanted to stop and gaze at them but there was a voice urging him on.

And that horrible woman screeching far behind.

The scrub swallowed him whole.

-o-o-o-

“Scott!”

“Thunderbird Two will be available momentarily. We have pods to deploy and slow progress.” Scott stared at the map, suddenly missing Virgil’s input. This was definitely Virgil territory. Maybe he should switch out Gordon for Virg and assign him to control. One could take up the slack. “Yes, Thunderbird Five?”

“Virgil has been attacked. Code Green. Sending you coordinates.”

“What?!” He straightened so fast his back cracked. A glance at the fire chief and he was grabbing his helmet and moving. “Alan, I need One now!”

He didn’t need to ask for further information. As he slapped on his helmet, John threw it at his HUD. A live feed of five assailants chasing the staggering green dot of his brother.

“Virgil’s vitals indicate he may have been drugged. I’m seeing spikes in his heart rate and his direction of retreat has become erratic.” John’s tone was clipped but full of tension. “He will not reach Thunderbird Two before he is overtaken.”

“Call in Kayo and notify the GDF.” He barely heard his own words as Alan dumped One precisely down beside him. Her ladder lowered and his feet were on it before it could hit dirt.

Dust welled up around his ‘bird as Alan launched her back into the air. Scott grabbed the cargo bay railing and secured himself.

“Gordon is inbound with the Dragonfly.” Alan’s voice was as clipped as John’s, not even turning to look at Scott. “ETA twenty seconds.”

“FAB.”

One shot through the thick smoke of the fire front, leaving swirls of grey atmosphere behind it, and emerging out into the clear air of the yet to be burnt.

Evacuated suburbia lay quiet below as Alan threw the Thunderbird to the right and spun down for an abrupt and determined landing in the front yard of someone’s wannabe mansion.

“Stay with One. Keep her secure.” Scott was moving before his littlest brother could protest.

A tactical readout appeared on Scott’s HUD as his feet hit dirt. Gordon’s dragonfly pod touched down beside him, his fish brother’s eyes catching his.

Without words, Scott grabbed onto the pod and Gordon launched her to skim across the ground, closing the little distance between them and the trees.

Thunderbird Two sat quiet beyond the property, her green hull gathering grey ash as firefighting aircraft buzzed about the fire front, a closing distance away.

“Shadow is inbound, ETA ten minutes. A security team in on their way. Colonel Casey has confirmed a response from the GDF as soon the fire has been controlled.”

“What?!” But as Scott’s boots hit the ground again, he didn’t have time to discuss the GDF’s inadequacies. “Virgil’s status?”

“I’m getting no response. He is speaking, but not to me. He appears incoherent.” A pause. “Approach him with caution.” Another pause. “Five assailants still closing.”

Rage leaked through Scott’s composure, but he had no more time for that than he did for the GDF’s failings. “Gordon, you have my six.”

And they were swallowed by the trees.

-o-o-o-

TBC

35 notes · View notes

pareidoliaonthemove · 8 days

Text

#hero #womens rights #abortion is healthcare

33K notes · View notes

pareidoliaonthemove · 8 days

Text

Gold necklace with duckies, Eastern Roman/Byzantine, 4th-5th century AD

from the Walters Art Museum

#art #jewellery #history #beautiful

1K notes · View notes

pareidoliaonthemove · 8 days

Text

Ohhhh, nooooo. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Oh, this is bad. This is sooo bad. Oh, let it be bullies at school, let it be anything other than THAT ....

(Excellent work, as always! Also, this story is responsible for the appearance in my house of a complete set of Bones DVDs ....)

The Woman on the Mountain

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | AO3

Warning for non-graphic mentions of historic child abuse.

Caroline Julian was just about to leave her office when a shadow fell over the desk. She looked up to see one of her favourite FBI agents – not that she would ever tell him that.

‘Cher, what can I do for you?’ ‘Caroline! My favourite federal prosecutor!’ ‘Uh huh. What do you need, Booth?’ ‘I need a warrant to access the medical records of one Scott Tracy.’ ‘Tracy? As in Jeff Tracy?’ ‘Yes, his eldest son.’ ‘Seeley, do I even want to know what he’s suspected of doing?’ ‘Let’s just say my gut is talking to me.’ ‘Well why didn’t you say so, Cher! Of course I’ll get a warrant based on your gut!’ ‘Thank you, Caroline, you’re the best!’

Booth, file in one hand and the other in his pocket, flashed a smile at her.

‘I see that you have more bad news for me, Cher. What is it?’ ‘The Tracys will be back here first thing with a lawyer.’ ‘Why do I not like the sound of this?’ ‘It’s Lester Breitenbach.’ ‘Heaven help me. Cher – do you have any good news for me?’ ‘I’m thinking of letting Brennen loose on the lawyer.’ ‘Bring me some of those delectable pastries and I will be here with the coffee. Give me half an hour and I’ll have your warrant.’

…

True to her word half an hour later files arrived at his desk from several sources. He sat and read the oldest, running from birth to four years of age. The file was not particularly worrisome until he got to the end.

He picked up the next and flicked through to the end. And the next. And the next. From the birth to the age of 14 Scott Tracy had had a total of nine different doctors. Without moving address.

Alarm bells ringing, he called Brennen, knowing she’d still be at the lab.

‘Hey Bones, I need your opinion on something.’ ‘Sure, Booth.’ ‘Is Cam there too?’ ‘I am. What is it, Seeley?’ ‘I need a second opinion on these records.’

He flicked across some pictures he’d taken along with some x-ray images.

For a short while no one said anything while the images were perused before both women sat back with a sigh.

‘Booth – you’re…you’re right. You read these files correctly.’ ‘I agree. Booth – ‘ ‘I know, Brennen. This could change everything. We’re going to need to tread lightly.’ ‘Angela found something in the video footage that may also – sigh – may also throw a…what’s the expression…a screwdriver in the works?’ ‘It’s a wrench, but I appreciate the thought. Tell me.’

They filled Booth in on what had been seen and how it had differed in details to the official accounts. Eventually they signed off and Booth huffed a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

Right now he needed some sleep. He needed all his wits about him for tomorrow.

…

True to their word the Tracy family turned up en masse dead on nine am. All of them.

Eight Tracys, one lawyer and one member of the British Aristocracy.

The whole floor grew quiet at the influx and they had to move the meeting to the large conference room just to fit everyone in comfortable. Introductions were made and coffee passed around – coffee that Jeff Tracy had bought – and for a few minutes they chatted amongst themselves while Caroline and Lester greeted each other like old friends…or enemies.

Five minutes after they arrived Lester cleared his throat.

‘Agent Booth, Ms Julian, I believe that we have a discussion to have.’ ‘Yes. If you would like to follow me?’ ‘Agent Booth?’ ‘Mr Tracy? What can I do for you?’ ‘I would very much like to support my son in any way possible. Would it be alright for me to sit in?’ ‘I’m afraid that that isn’t possible, Mr Tracy. This is an ongoing investigation and as such we need to follow procedure.’ ‘Agent Booth is right, Jeff. Stay here and we’ll be back shortly.’

Jeff looked at Scott. He knew that while the outside world would only see the Commander and CEO, all Jeff could see the scared little boy who’d practically ran into his father’s arms when he’d finally returned home after the avalanche.

He had no idea what the FBI were going to be questioning him about, but he trusted Lester would look after Scott. Jeff turned to the rest of his family. They all needed him now. And he needed them.

…

‘Before we start this discussion, I would like the record to show that my client, Mr Scott Tracy, has attended this interview of his own free will. And that we have been given no clear indication as to why he alone has been asked.’ ‘And the FBI and I thank you for that. Shall we get started?’ ‘Yes please.’ ‘Scott, I want to apologise.’ ‘What for, Agent Booth?’ ‘I am afraid that I am going to bring up some painful memories.’ ‘Talking about what happened…it was – it is still – painful.’ ‘I’m not talking about that.’

Scott stilled. He was aware of Lester frowning, of the pitying look from both Agent Booth and Ms Julian. But he couldn’t hear anything for a moment past the roaring in his ears. A hand on his arm brought him back to reality.

‘Mr Tracy?’ ‘Please – call me Scott.’ ‘Scott. Let’s discuss your Mother and how she was abusing you.’

17 notes · View notes