#fluffember2020

[gumnut-logic]

In discussion with my fellow writers and readers last year we came up with the idea of a post-Whumptober challenge fest involving fluff…buckets of it…to apologise to all our characters for the nastiness we commit during the wonderful whump season.

And considering the shite this year has been, we need all the fluff we can get.

So the concept of Fluffember…er…Fluffy November…has been revived. Words were needed, so here they be, one for each day of the month.

There be words, there be a tag to tag your works with. Other than that, go for it. You can choose one or many, work backwards, forwards or higglety-pigglety. There can be art, writing, papier mache, sand sculptures or sonnets. Whatever your muse desires, take it and run with it.

Note: The first week coincides with Pen & Ink week, so I expect the fluff to escalate possibly all the way to Thunderbird Five :D

Create and have fun!

Nutty

(off the edge, but learning to fly)

Above reads…

Fluffember 2020

1. Bedtime 2. Rose 3. Together 4. Jacket 5. Drinks 6. Sunset 7. Picnic 8. Young 9. Familiar 10. Warmth 11. Brothers 12.Celebration 13. Sky 14. Song 15. Son/daughter 16. Bubbles 17. Trinket 18. Touch 19. Whimsical 20. Carry 21. Reassure 22. Time 23. Toy 24. Feathers 25. Rainbow 26. Heirloom 27. Cushion 28. Name 29. Fond 30. Special person

#fluffember #fluffember2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #but any fandom can play

[hedwigstalons]

Fluffember2020 - Carry

Okay I know ‘carry’ is number 20 on @gumnut-logic #fluffember2020 prompt list but I’m not going to turn down anything the elusive muse sends my way.

So here we go.  Some smol!Tracy and FishTank fluff for you

xoxoxox

“I’m tired”

The whine was unmistakable to the older Tracys and signaled, without a doubt, that Gordon was going to dig his heels in.  In this case they dug in both metaphorically and physically as the complainer hopped up on a nearby wall and started scuffing the back of his shoes on the brickwork.

“Gordon, get down from there.”  Scott didn’t really expect his instruction to be followed and it was no surprise to any of them when the only response was for Gordon to poke his tongue out.

The problem was they were all tired.  It had seemed a good idea at the time to spend the bus fare on one last ride at the fair, one last attempt at the ring toss, one last ball of cotton candy.  But now the cotton candy was just a collection of sticks clutched by John until they could be disposed of properly and the walk home, all three miles of it, felt a herculean effort to little legs.

Alan had succumbed first, a combination of the shortest legs and the deepest sugar crash meant he had only managed a half mile before being scooped up into a piggy back by Scott.  That had allowed them to pick up the pace a bit on the enforced route march home but now, with Gordon flagging, Scott had no idea how they were going to make it back for curfew.  It was a big responsibility being entrusted with the care of all his brothers at the fair and the last thing Scott wanted was to let his father down.  Unfortunately letting him down now looked inevitable.

Virgil looked at Scott, seeing the emotions flitting across his oldest brother’s face as he fought to keep calm; shouting at Gordon rarely helped however tempting it might be.  Getting home on time meant the difference between Scott getting to go to the cinema with friends next weekend or not, he would be the only one affected if they were late.  But they had all agreed to do the walk if it meant more to spend at the fair and now Gordon was putting Scott’s plans at risk.

With a sigh Virgil shrugged the backpack off his shoulders and passed it to John.  It was stuffed full but fairly light being mostly filled with various plushies won on the stalls.  John took the bag without complaint, he’d rather carry the bag than deal with a moaning Gordon and at least it wasn’t packed full of heavy snacks any more.

“Hey, you can’t carry him,” Scott protested when he realised what Virgil intended to do.

“Well one of us has to.  We can’t leave him behind-” there was a snort from Scott suggesting that abandoning Gordon was currently a tempting prospect, prompting Virgil to shoot him a glare, “and you’ve got Alan already.”

“Well you take Alan, he’s lighter.”

But Virgil was already stood in front of the wall, gesturing for Gordon to climb on.  Sure it would be easier to carry Alan rather than the squid who seemed to have far more limbs than was normal and who seemed to be attempting to strangle Virgil as he got comfortable, but they were only about a mile from home.  He could do this.  It also hadn’t escaped his attention that Scott looked about ready to drop himself, the burden of responsibility meant their oldest had walked twice as far as anyone else as he supervised toilet trips or ran off to refill water bottles.  When you added in that he had carried Alan for most of the journey home Virgil wasn’t convinced that Scott was really up to manhandling a wriggling Gordon at this stage of the day.

Before Scott could protest any more Virgil was striding out ahead.  He wasn’t going to let Scott miss out of his treat next weekend if he could help it.

***

“I’m tired.”

The figure might be many years older and the voice rather deeper but Virgil couldn’t help but be reminded of the kid of all those years ago that would just flop down when he’d had enough.  

Gordon had every right to be tired.  The rescue had needed lots of legwork on the ground and Virgil had had it comparatively easy up in Two, shuttling about with the rescue cage.  He certainly wasn’t feeling the bone deep exhaustion that Gordon was.

As he taxied Two back into her berth and powered down a smirk played a lips.  So Gordon was tired, was he?  And what did he do for little brothers who were tired?

A indignant squawk rang out through the cabin.

“Hey, put me down!”

While Gordon had been steeling himself for the effort that was getting out of his seat, Virgil was up and making his move.  Before he was able to protest the aquanaut had been picked up and flung over one shoulder.  His world tipped upside down and he beat ineffectually at Virgil’s back.

“No can do.  You said you were tired so I’m just helping out.”

The wriggling soon stopped when Gordon realised there was no escape, Virgil was holding him too firmly in place, a skill honed from having to pick up far too many panicking rescuees over the years.  Gordon resigned himself to his fate, allowing himself to hang limp as he was bodily carted back to the villa.  He just hoped none of the others were around to witness his inelegant arrival.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #fluffember2020 #carry #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #small Tracys

[willow-salix]

Fluffember Prompt: Toy

Big massive thanks to the awesome @myladykayo​ for jumping in and writing this for me while I rest.

Day 20 of isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

 Kayo here... I was “convinced” to write this update by Scott...

 “Witchy has never skipped a day before in her isolation updates. We can’t let her down when she’s sick and needs her rest,” he said, using the pity card like one waves a white flag around.

“Then why don’t you write it? You’re her best friend,” I protested.

I’m not a writer. I don’t have Gordon’s knack for storytelling and exaggeration, or Alan’s naivete about life that makes his stories amusing. Scott is used to telling his brothers bedtime stories from when they were younger. Let him do it.

“I have to do office stuff...”

And then, he dared. He smiled his dimpled smile that no one on Earth and beyond can resist, except perhaps for Alan’s zombies and dead people.

“Office stuff.” I tried to sound unimpressed but to my greatest shame, I’m not impervious to the Dimple King’s magical powers and my resolve was already fading. I can’t say I’m very proud of that.

“I can’t postpone it... Please?”

He knows, the traitor. He fluttered his eyelashes, putting damsels in distress to shame and waited.

I do like Witchy and I do want to help her because she’s taking the burden of those idiots off of me when she’s here, so I caved in... I rolled my eyes at him and made sure my face showed how annoyed at him I was. “Fine, but you owe me now.”

“Deal,” he said. We shook hands and he sauntered away toward his office.

***

 Witchy was upstairs, resting (or trying to) and the others were relatively calm in the lounge, which is always a little suspicious. Personally, I would have gone to the training room to lift some weights or do a few fan forms, but I felt I shouldn’t wander off too far in case someone needed a reminder not to go and bother her. I was pondering about catching up on my reading or doing some office work when Virgil arrived from the hangars holding a flat box. “I was doing some cleaning and found a bin of old toys… Remember that game, John?” he asked, putting the box on the lounge table.

The box was faded and something told me that it was old enough to be not only from when the boys were kids and before I arrived on the island, but before that when Jeff was young. Why he kept some of those things, I had no idea. The garish yellow colour was an assault to the eyes in itself, and the silly-looking man pictured there didn’t improve things, nor were the bold red letters forming the word Operation.

John glanced up from his tablet and smiled. “Alan used to stick the tweezers on the edge and let the buzzer ring to no end until dad stopped him and gave him something else to do,” he said.

“Gordon used to tap rhythms and songs with the tweezers,” Virgil added.

“Did Jeff stop him and give him something else to do?” I asked.

“He’d wait for dad to be off with Alan to do it.”

“Then Scott would slap him upside the head,” John finished.

I barely managed not to roll my eyes. I can’t say I was surprised.

Alan opened the box and peered inside. “It requires batteries,” he commented, taking everything out.

Virgil went to fetch some in Jeff’s desk.

“Are you sure about this?” John asked.

Virgil shrugged. “It’s one way to pass time.” He smiled. “Afraid you lost your touch?”

“Not at all. I’m trying to spare you from a crushing defeat.”

All Tracys are competitive. All of them. Even quiet, suspectless John.

“Did I hear crushing defeat? I’m here for the show,” Gordon exclaimed, appearing from nowhere and eying the game on the table. “Wanna play, Kayo?”

I laughed. “No. I’ll take a seat in the peanut gallery,” I said, settling down in my usual launch seat. “I can handle the bank if you want.”

Let them ridicule themselves. I took the pile of false notes from him and Virgil distributed the specialist cards between the four brothers.

“So how do you play?” Alan asked.

“You pick a card and try to remove the part indicated on it. If you succeed, Kayo will pay you. If you fail, whoever has the specialist card can have a go and earn twice the amount if he succeeds. Whoever has the most money at the end wins.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

I saw the exchange between Virgil and Gordon and I think John’s mouth quirked. Nothing was simple with them. Not even children’s games. Why do you think I was sitting away from them?

They let Alan have a go at first. He picked Water on the Knee and successfully removed the plastic bucket. It was handed to me so that I could pay accordingly. John picked the Wish Bone, but as he positioned his hand over the board, Gordon leaned over and began singing close to his brother’s ear to try and distract him. John declared his tactic amateurish and also succeeded.

Apparently, the unspoken rules Tracy version of the game was to try and distract whoever was playing so that they failed. This included John shouting “Look out!” at Gordon at the last moment, Gordon imitating the buzzer sound each time Virgil approached the tweezers from the board, Alan—who caught on very quickly—inching his fingers close to the board as if he was going to rattle it when John had another go and Virgil fully integrating his youngest brother to the game by whispering something to him, which earned him a reply that I can’t write here.

The rowdy game was fully underway when Scott stepped into the lounge. “What are you guys doing? I can hear you all the way from the office,” he complained.

“We’re playing Operation,” Alan replied.

Scott seemed surprised. “I didn’t even know we still had that. I thought you took it apart when you were ten to see how it worked, Virg?”

“And put it back together. Wasn’t that hard.”

“Want to join us?” Alan invited him.

Scott seemed to hesitate. “I still have things to do and I should go back.”

I had to bite my lip to hold back my laughter when someone—and I think it was Virgil!—clucked like a chicken. And as expected, Scott took the bait. He sat down next to John while I was handed back all of the money and the specialist cards were gathered and redistributed.

“Hey, you can’t reset it, I was winning!” Gordon protested.

“You were not. I had $100 more than you,” Alan stated.

Gordon huffed, put the pieces back inside their respective spots, then couldn’t resist playing “Shave and a Haircut” with the buzzer. Scott’s reaction was instantaneous and he reached out to slap the back of his brother’s head twice without even missing a beat.

They all played a first round with varying degrees of success. Watching them play was more entertaining than actually playing. I began mentally assigning scores to their distraction tactics.

When it was his turn, Scott picked Writer’s cramp. The irony of the situation was not lost on me and I fought my better judgement for a whole two seconds before I decided to make a move—I am a Tracy at heart after all... I carefully shifted my weight as he concentrated and extended my arm... then at the last moment, I poked his armpit in that one location I know will tickle him then hurried to sit back straight with my bank notes in my hand and an innocent expression on my face.

He squawked like an offended seagull, hit the side of the game and made it buzz, then looked at the nearest brother accusingly. When said brother stopped laughing long enough to say it wasn’t him, he directed his suspicious eyes at me and I’m rather proud to say that I could keep a straight face and raised an eyebrow at him in return.

John was next. He picked a card... the bread basket. He took the tweezers from Scott’s hand and didn’t even try to be careful and made the game buzz in less than a second.

“HA!” Alan hooted out.

“You didn’t have to play if you didn’t want to anymore,” Virgil side-whispered to him.”

“Oh no, I’m playing,” he assured him, then took one of the specialist cards in front of him and flicked it between his long fingers before handing it to me.

He manoeuvred the tweezers with surgical precision, ignoring Gordon’s heavy breathing in his ear, and dropped the plastic slice of bread into my hand. “I believe that is $2000,” he said with a smug smile.

“Show off,” Virgil muttered good-naturedly while I counted the paper slips and gave them to John.

“My turn,” Gordon said, reaching for a card, “It says... butterflies in the stomach.”

The four others froze more or less visibly and Scott gave me a quick side-eye. He remembered the Venom incident, my aversion for the fluttery little creeps and how I made him pay for laughing at me. I ignored him and winked at Gordon. Surprisingly, he had been my hero at the time and I’ll never forget that. But that’s a story for another time.

Gordon extracted the item from the board without touching the edges. “Once again, I prevailed,” he claimed triumphantly, flicking the plastic butterfly in the air and catching it a few times.

I handed him two $100 notes and of course, Gordon being Gordon tried to take them while the game piece was still in the air. He failed, the plastic butterfly ricocheted off his elbow and landed somewhere under the furniture.

Little items like that never land where you expect them, especially on carpet, especially when bouncing off sharp Tracy elbows (I think we can all agree that they are not lumpy, Lady Penelope’s flirting techniques need a little improvement). I refused to join in on the search because, of course, too many people were there already and I was more helpful sitting in my seat with my legs crossed out of the way.

Gordon looked under the table, then moved on to the little shelf where my father’s bonsai tree and Lady Penelope’s communicator picture are located. He peered underneath, sneezed loudly, then backtracked in horror.

Screeching like a banshee, he rushed out of the seating area and fled toward the kitchen, nearly knocking over poor Witchy who stood at the top of the stairs.

“I go fight a lurgy for an hour, take a moment to get something to drink and this is what I come back to?” she said, visibly unimpressed by the sight of four Tracy butts in the air around the lounge table as they scanned the carpet.

I had to disagree with her on that, it was a rather interesting sight.

“Why is he even screaming like that, he sounds like he’s seen a ghost?” Gordon could be heard sneezing somewhere in the background and she rolled her eyes.

She strode to where he had been crouching and bent down and sighed. “Just as I thought... Scott, you forgot to close the office door again,” she said, reaching out and picking up Buddy the bearded dragon from his hiding spot before he scampered away.

She removed the plastic butterfly from his mouth and cradled him close. “I don’t want a repeat of last time when I had to get him in the vent—”

Witchy’s eagle eye spotted the twitch in John’s face instantly and he held her gaze, doing his own version of the Tracy smile to placate her. They did that fascinating wordless exchange established couples seem to be able to do for a moment and then, she then turned to me, noticed the fake bank notes in my hands and threw me a disappointed: “You’re encouraging them?”

I immediately pointed at John to defend myself. “He’s winning,” I said.

“If I draw brain freeze, I’ll be able to get you a lifetime supply of socks that don’t roll down. Think about it,” he deadpanned.

She looked at us as if we had lost our minds—she might be right—then stormed off with the dragon.

I guess I should go check on Gordon now.  And probably make a new batch of soup as a peace offering.

Author’s note: Shave and a Haircut is what “that knock on the door” is called.

#isolation island #Thunderbirds in isolation #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015 #fluffember2020

[fallenfurther]

Bedtime

It’s Fluffember! and almost a year since I posted my first fanfic!

Thanks to Whumptober, I’m not going to be able to complete this challenge (so worn) but I’m going to try do some (Aim of 4, one a week seems reasonable and more my pace). I’m setting myself the additional challenge of them being in the wereVirgil/transforming Tracy AU, because I’ve not written the AU for so long and it’s can be such a nice fluff AU. 

So here is the first post. Starting at the start with Day 1 and some naughty young Tracy boys. Enjoy!

******

Bedtime followed a set routine for Tracy boys, except for that one night of the month. Virgil had no choice in the matter, he would change at the rising of the full moon and no one could tell the werewolf to go to bed. The moon gave him an unnatural energy that he just had to run off and on the few occasions his father had tried to confine him to his room, it had only resulted in furniture getting damaged and broken. Virgil's wolf instincts couldn't be swept under a rug because he was human most of the time. 

So bedtime during the full moon was non-existent for Virgil, which was fantastic to a young boy. He did get some sleep during the night but he was always exhausted the next day. Some days it was so bad that Dad allowed him to stay home ‘sick’. His brothers weren't always understanding about it, complaining that they never get to stay at home when they are ‘sick’. Especially Gordon, the king of trying to get out of school. They were also disgruntled that their bedtime never changed on a full moon. They still had to go to bed at the right and proper times. Virgil had mixed feelings about it. He loved playing with his brothers in wolf form, but he had to be so careful not to hurt them. He was so much stronger than them and he'd injured Scott and John a few times when he'd gotten overexcited. He'd learnt to hold back his strength by the time Gordon was old enough to play with him. 

Not that bedtime stopped his brothers from joining him during the full moon. They would be punished if caught, normally no dessert and early to bed the next night. Though Virgil was certain that Grandma and Dad let his brothers get away with it on some occasions, the creative escape plans being the most successful. Each brother developed their own full moon bedtime routine. 

Scott had started as an escape artist, creeping down the stairs or climbing out the window to join Virgil. There had been a few scraped knees and bruises from failed footing but as long as he didn’t make too much noise when he landed, Scott was normally successful. Once Scott had mastered his own transformation, he would just fly out the window to join Virgil. A set of clothes was always hidden somewhere for Scott to pull on once free. The location of the clothes changed frequently once Gordon got wind of Scott's scheme. Their younger brother would take or hide the clothes so Scott would have to bare all if he wanted to spend time with the werewolf. As much as Virgil loved his elder brother, he preferred it when Scott wore clothes. 

John was the smart one. He quickly moved on from sneaking out while Dad was distracted, and would instead set an alarm for the early hours when he knew the adults were fast asleep. He would often just spend the night sitting with Virgil, throwing a ball if required. John particularly liked to join Virgil on nights when astronomical events clashed with the full moon. Sometimes the telescope would come with him. Other times, like for the odd meteorite shower, John would just sit and watch with Virgil curled up around him. Virgil knew his body would keep his little brother warm, despite the chill that hung in the air at that time of night. 

Gordon was the one who got caught the most, but then he was the one who snuck out the most. Gordon and Virgil had a special bond, probably stemming from Gordon’s love of animals and his boundless energy that made it seem like it could keep up with his werewolf brother. There was a whole box of balls and toys which they would play with together, though they would also roughhouse in the grass or hay. Despite his strength, Gordon had never received more than a few scratches, bruises and bumps during these play fights, and this was no worse than what Gordon gave himself on a daily basis. His brother’s laughter would ring out, and Virgil was always certain that Dad and Grandma could hear it, but they were never disturbed. When Gordon started doing his early morning swim training he stopped staying up late on the full moon, and would instead get up an hour or so early and hang out with Virgil beforehand. It became a routine and meant some moons he got to spend time with each one of his brothers. 

Alan turned out to be extremely good at sneaking out, his small body and softer footsteps making it easy for him to pass unnoticed. He, like Scott, would stay up late and spend time with Virgil at the start of the night, which often meant Scott was also with them. Alan never seemed to mind that he ever got much alone time with the werewolf, though there were moons that Scott deliberately didn’t visit so they could be alone. Alan’s sneaking out became easier when he started transforming. Despite how disgruntled he was that he became a small dog, it meant he could easily slip out the house as long as he kept his claws from scratching the wooden floors. Virgil enjoyed the fact that Alan was a canine like him, Scott’s and John’s claws were sharp and Gordon preferred to be in water and wet fur wasn’t something Virgil found pleasant, but Alan could run beside him. Even if he was slower, they could still run through the vegetation quicker than they could as humans, their paws would pound the dirt as they raced about and there was something heart-warming about having a brother almost like himself. Curling up together was one of the most comfortable things, and Virgil loved it. Even if he often had to carry a tired Alan back to bed, because as much as his brothers pushed their bedtime, they just didn’t have the energy to stay up like he did.

#thunderbirds are go #fluffember #fluffember2020 #wereVirgil #transforming tracys #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #puppyalan #eagle!scott #bedtime #fluff #naughty boys #who wants to go to bed?

[louthestarspeaker]

Shoulder to Shoulder

My first offering for #Fluffember, the prompt used is for Day 3, Together. (I’m definitely gonna be going out of order XD)  

I’m kinda nervous because this is pretty much the first story I’ve posted with the OC’s that have been living in my head for the past year or so. (There’s a multi-chapter where they’re introduced and everything, but that is still decidedly in the planning stage sooo one-shots!)  

Hugs and a thank you to @bonsaiiiiiii for the read-through and for being an absolute cheerleader! You’re wonderful and this would still be sitting in my notebook if it weren’t for you <333 

The distance between Alan and Laurie is usually measured by thousands of miles, now it’s just footsteps in the sand.

‘*’

Alan and Laurie walked the beach as morning dawned from dusty blue into reddened skies. Alan’s prints stretched far behind him, hands replacing feet in places he’d turned cartwheels. Laurie’s footsteps were lapped away by the ocean as she walked the line where the beach met the water, a sandal dangling from each hand.

It was the first time they’d seen each other in months. Talking without time zones between them had a way of slowing them both down, and their pace was leisurely, chatting about the normal and not-so-normal bits of their teenage lives.

It was things like a manual override added to Thunderbird Three because Alan kept locking his keys inside. 

Or the fact that Laurie’s Dad wouldn’t let her work with Brain’s on ship designs until she fixed her, admittedly crappy, sleep schedule.  

And of course there was school, and the half-dreadful, half-comforting solidarity of two slipping English grades. 

The average mixed in with the amazing, their world was a weird one for anyone to navigate, let alone a couple of high school students. But it helped to talk to someone who got it.

“So, long story short,” Alan summed up, “those dumb shoulder guard things actually came in handy. Probably would’ve dislocated it without them.” 

Laurie shook her head, the silver beads on her braids making a sound akin to a wind chime. “Okay, but maybe next time tell me you sprained your shoulder before you start doing cartwheels? So I can stop you from doing something stupid?”

Alan waved her off with a grin. “That was like almost two weeks ago. I’m totally good now.” He turned another cartwheel to prove it. 

It might’ve been mildly impressive in that way most cartwheels were, except Laurie was too busy ducking Alan’s flying flip-flop to spare much attention. Alan landed on his feet, with only one shoe, the other arcing almost gracefully into the water and landing with a little splash.

Laurie laughed, standing up and fishing Alan’s wayward flip flop out of the sea. “Weaponizing footwear now, Allie?”  

She tossed it back to him and Alan caught it with both hands. “Aww, it’s gonna be all squelchy now.” 

“I’m thinking you’ll live.” 

Alan replaced his flip-flop, taking a few experimental steps. “That’s debatable.” There was definitely a bit of a pout there. 

Some things never changed. Not that Laurie could say much anything, she was the youngest of a household too, after all. Parts of it were universal.

Alan’s communicator watch chimed, distracting him momentarily from waterlogged footwear.

Laurie looked over. “Is it a rescue?”

“No, there’s a different alarm for that.” Alan said, picking up the call.  A hologram of Laurie’s older brother flickered to life above his wrist. “Eagan, hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, Al. Laurie’s still with you, right? I couldn’t get a hold of her.”

Alan raised an eyebrow at Laurie, shifting so the holo-sensor picked her up. “Yeah, she’s right here.”

Laurie gave a sheepish laugh as she fiddled with her own watch. Three missed calls from her brother. “Sorry, Eagan. It was on silent.”

Eagan shook his head. “Why does anyone even give you a communicator anymore?” Failing to pick was not an isolated incident in Laurie’s case. 

“You’re guess is as good as mine at this point. So, what’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you two were coming up for breakfast or do I need to hide your plates away somewhere?” Certain family members, naming no names of course, had back holes in place of stomachs, and noses like a bloodhound’s when it came to good food.

Alan raised a finger, tentatively asking, “So we're talking about food you made, right?” 

Eagan had his hair back in the way he usually did when he’d been cooking, although of course he could’ve only been trying to pull Grandma Tracy’s efforts out of the fire. 

Quite literally. 

Eagan’s brown eyes glimmered with amusement, visible even through the hologram. “Yes, Alan, I made the food.”

“Start to finish?” 

“Start to finish.”

The palpable relief was not an exaggeration. “Cool, we’ll be there in a second.” A swipe through the hologram and Alan ended the call. 

He threw a grin at Laurie. “Race you up?”

Laurie pulled on her shoes. As if he even had to ask. It was pretty much tradition at this point.  “You’re on. The usual wager?”

Dibs on breakfast plus whatever was in the other’s pockets.

“Sure. Don’t know if I’ve got anything good, though.” Alan rifled through his pockets. A granola bar wrapper, two dollars in Canadian quarters, and… “Oh! Gummy worms! Forgot about those.” 

The bag was half empty but that hardly diminished the novelty of the prize. Candy was a rarity on the Island. 

“Let me see what I have.” Laurie fished around in her own pockets, coming up with a small skein of embroidery floss, a packet of trail mix, and the seashells she’d picked up from the beach.

Alan eyed the trail mix. “Well, I’ll never say no to free food.”

Laurie stuffed everything back in her pockets. “It’s not yours yet, Alan.”

“Key word being ‘yet’.” He said, drawing a line in the sand. “Fair warning, I’ve been going on runs with Scott and I’ve gotten really fast.” 

Laurie grinned, a spark in her eye. “Just count us off already.”

Alan counted back from three and they took off like unbottled lightning, sand spraying up from their shoes, leaving laughter in their wake in lieu of thunder. 

Two kids- and that’s all they were right now, best friends, unextraordinary and average- flying through the morning, stretching each moment for all it was worth.

#fluffember2020 #thunderbirds are go #Alan Tracy #Laurie Charter #Charter Siblings #original character #thunderbirds oc #lou writes things

[neuroticphysiologist]

Just wanted to share my Fluffember master list...

Gordon and Alan, the main duo in A Dose of the Squid

I know, Alan became my bias in this theme, I'm sorry. But not all. He wasn't the main in the last fic.

If you have missed any of my Fluffember fics, here's a list!

In publish date order. The ones with the red hearts are my favorites.

***

1. A Dose of the Squid ❤️

Hugs with the tinies!

2. Bouquet and a Rosé

Alan recalls the last time he gave flowers.

FLOWER FLOWER F-FLOWER FLOWER

6. Freedom to Experiment ❤️

Painting with da Virg and Allie

Random fact: I was listening to this song (Where Love Is) when I wrote "Freedom to Experiment". Don't know why tho, but it's soothing. That's where I brought in the part when Virgil played a song using the wireless speakers.

5. Straight from the Cherry Pop

Milkshake party

10 (and 4). The Sick Day Blues ❤️

Big bros taking care of Sprout

Tired...

14. A Pleasant Song I Heard One Night

Immediate songwriting by John and Virgil

13 (and 3). One Time Opportunity

Alan pilots Thunderbird 1

22. Sorry, I Can't

🎵 Can I someday finna find my time 🎵

27. Cooling Down ❤️

Massage chairs!

***

I wrote only nine fics, but I enjoyed it. Thank you @gumnut-logic for the theme and prompts and to all of you guys for the love 🥰

Also to @janetm74 @5hadow-alpha @ak47stylegirl @dragonoffantasyandreality @islandsandstars2 @photowizard17 and a few more for the support 😊

#fluffember #fluffember2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #neurotic phys tag #or was i still too shy again?

[eos-in-orbit]

I have half a Fluffember offering, and a lot of work to do atm. It's the last week of term and I have a massive project due on friday.

I love the idea so I will expand on it later, but what I've written may make 0 sense.

#thunderbirds are go #john tracy #eos #fluffember2020 #fluffember

[cassandras-nest]

So, since there’s whumptober...kinktober..clonetober, i was just thinking about some fluffember for next month? Maybe in a domestic setting?

If i wrote down some prompts? Someone’s interested?

..anyway if there’s already some prompt list just let me know..

#fluffember2020 #maybe? #just because i like domestic bliss in star wars setting #maybe giving our boys some peace? #just star wars in general #so any character and any era #i just want to give people some prompts to have fun with

[gumnut-logic]

Okay, here we go...it is time for some Fluff! Grab your pens, keyboard, tablets and phones and create something to make someone smile :D

Have at it! And let slip the poodles of fluff!

In discussion with my fellow writers and readers last year we came up with the idea of a post-Whumptober challenge fest involving fluff…buckets of it…to apologise to all our characters for the nastiness we commit during the wonderful whump season.

And considering the shite this year has been, we need all the fluff we can get.

So the concept of Fluffember…er…Fluffy November…has been revived. Words were needed, so here they be, one for each day of the month.

There be words, there be a tag to tag your works with. Other than that, go for it. You can choose one or many, work backwards, forwards or higglety-pigglety. There can be art, writing, papier mache, sand sculptures or sonnets. Whatever your muse desires, take it and run with it.

Note: The first week coincides with Pen & Ink week, so I expect the fluff to escalate possibly all the way to Thunderbird Five :D

Create and have fun!

Nutty

(off the edge, but learning to fly)

Above reads…

Fluffember 2020

1. Bedtime 2. Rose 3. Together 4. Jacket 5. Drinks 6. Sunset 7. Picnic 8. Young 9. Familiar 10. Warmth 11. Brothers 12.Celebration 13. Sky 14. Song 15. Son/daughter 16. Bubbles 17. Trinket 18. Touch 19. Whimsical 20. Carry 21. Reassure 22. Time 23. Toy 24. Feathers 25. Rainbow 26. Heirloom 27. Cushion 28. Name 29. Fond 30. Special person

#fluffember #fluffember2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #but any fandom can join in

[hedwigstalons]

Why blue?

I wrote something.  For @gumnut-logic #fluffember2020.  It even uses the prompt of the day.  

*bounces excitedly because I hadn’t written a single word in a week*  *pouts at life*

It’s short and bashed out over lunch but considering my head has been hollow for the last week (or rather, completely consumed by life crap leaving no room for Tracy boys) I’ll take whatever I can get.

So here’s my piece for the ‘sky’ prompt.

xoxoxox

Why were International Rescue uniforms blue?

It seemed a pretty stupid choice for the uniforms of operatives that frequently threw themselves into, and needed to be extracted from, extreme danger.  Red would have made more sense.  Or orange.  Something that could be seen easily against a roiling ocean, a cracking snowfield, the sky.  

It hadn’t been a question that hadn’t troubled Scott until Alan had thrown it out there, a curveball in their conversations.  Now it consumed him.  An itch inside his head that would not go away until he’d found a satisfactory answer.  He lay back on the sun lounger, staring up at the cloudless sky as it darkened through the shades that they all wore so often, each a reminder of his brothers.  Alan’s chest plate, John’s torso, Gordon’s sleeves, Virgil’s boots; each appeared in their turn as blue gave way to inky black.

They had the most advanced telemetry in the world, sensors and transmitters that broadcast their exact locations to each other, but all the data in the world wasn’t as comforting as being able to get eyes on a brother and blue suits were a distinct hindrance to that.  So why were they all clad in something so hard to spot?

“Something troubling you, son?”

So lost was he to his own thought he’d completely missed the approach of his father until the voice in the darkness and the creaking of a nearby lounger as it too became occupied showed he was no longer alone.

He sighed, blinking up at the night, before answering.  “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t usually see you sat out here for so long on your own.”

“It’s just something Alan asked earlier, about our uniforms.”

“Go on.”  

“Just why are they blue?  I mean, they look great and all, but…”

“Dumb choice?  Y’now, Lee said exactly the same when I showed him the sketches.  I was kinda surprised you hadn’t changed it after all these years, even putting Alan and Gordon in blue too.”

“Yeah, well, the rest of us had gotten used to it and didn’t want to change what you’d left and there was no way those two were going to agree to being different.  I did manage to give Alan body armour though.”

“Yeah, I noticed that when he tried to run me through with his shoulder guards,” Jeff chuckled, remembering the flying tackle of a hug that had characterised his reunion with the youngster.  “So, do you always come out here when you’ve got a knotty problem to think through?”

“Sometimes.  There’s something calming about looking up at the sky, like it makes me think more clearly.”

“And what did you end up thinking?”

“Nothing that helped.  Mostly I just thought about family.”

“Maybe that’s your answer then.  We Tracys have always been comfortable up in the sky, even Gordon, despite his attempts to live in the pool.”

Now it was Scott’s turn to chuckle but it was true, people might put Gordon as their water specialist but the squid could handle a plane as well as any of them and really deserved more recognition for his air based skills.     

“So that’s it?  The uniforms are blue to match the sky?”

“Maybe, or maybe not; to be honest I can’t really remember,” Jeff confessed, the actual logic of his choice lost over the years.  “But if the uniforms mean you can look up at the sky and always be reminded of your family, then that feels as good a reason as any.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Jeff Tracy #fluffember2020 #sky

[hedwigstalons]

Reunion

Something soft for @gumnut-logic‘s Fluffember.  There is no way I’ll be able to do 30 separate fics but this kinda covers ‘reassure’, ‘special person’, ‘together’ and ‘bedtime’.  

It’s not edited or polished but I wanted to get something out before inspiration abandoned me again.

xoxoxox

Brandon closed the holocall and slumped back on the couch with a contented sigh.  Three months.  Three long and agonising months in close quarters with the Lemaires for work meant that not only had seeing Alan been out of the question, their calls had been distinctly censored.  Or rather the calls had been more guarded after the one attempt at being, ahem, intimate, that Madeline had walked in on.  He still cringed at the memory.  Nope, calls had been kept distinctly more bland after that incident.  

He’d seized on the chance to talk freely the moment he had got home, not even stopping to unpack, and now he was exhausted.  A wave of tiredness swept over Brandon, post travel fatigue mixed with the comfortable glow that came from talking to Alan and being back in his own territory.  The sighs turned to a yawn which in turn gave way to gentle snores.  Barely an hour later he was startled from his nap by a loud and insistent knocking at the door.

***

Alan turned up the track, feeling the road beneath the car getting bumpier and bumpier.  While he was grateful to Parker for the lessons that enabled him to make this journey solo, his education in driving had been rather lacking in how to choose an appropriate car; the sleek, red sports car, which had looked perfect on the hire yard forecourt, now felt woefully ill-equipped to deal with the worsening terrain.

He checked and rechecked the address that Brandon had given him, wondering if he had taken a wrong turn but everything tallied up.  The bachs that lined the lane at intervals were mostly in darkness, as would be expected for holiday homes out of season, and he struggled to imagine Brandon actually living in one of the small cabins.  The one ahead of him, however, showed signs of occupation, a muted light shining out through the glass in the door.  He turned into the empty parking spot next to the cabin and killed the engine.

Grabbing his duffel off the passenger seat, the car seemingly lacking a trunk, Alan steeled himself and headed towards the front door.  He paused on the step, taking in deep breaths of the air that held the unmistakable tang of snow as it blew down from the nearby mountain.  It had felt such a good idea at the time, rushing off to New Zealand the second he closed the call with Brandon, but now he was here he wondered if he was coming across as too needy, too forward.  Perhaps he should have waited until morning.  

Scott had pencilled in two days off rota the moment Alan had gone to him with Brandon’s return date, two days that he hadn’t dared tell his boyfriend about in case the world conspired against them and ripped that precious time away in a whirlwind of rescues.  But for once the world had been obliging and so here he was, bag in hand, about to surprise the man who had barely left his thoughts during their enforced separation.  Too late for doubts now, he was here.  One more deep breath and he rapped on the door with rather more confidence than he felt.

***

The knocking, loud and unexpected, had Brandon nearly rolling off the couch at the intrusion.  Rubbing his eyes he checked the time wondering who the hell could be calling on him at this time of night.  It was probably just some lost holiday maker, struggling to find which rental was theirs in the dark and seeking help from the nearest cabin that looked occupied.  It wouldn’t be the first time he had had to direct someone further up or back down the track depending on which cabin number they had failed to find.  He was almost an unofficial warden for the lane being it’s only permanent resident, not that he was there much of the time himself as this latest work trip had proved.  

Brandon hauled himself to his feet, preparing to point the way to whichever lost soul had found his bach this time.  He shambled down the hallway, stretching the kinks out as he went, his eyes still bleary as he unlatched the door.  He blinked sleepily, his brain not fully registering the sight.

***

From his place on the step Alan could see the familiar silhouette making its way down the hallway.  Nervous excitement fluttered in his stomach as he waited for Brandon to open up.  The butterflies intensified at the sound of the lock being opened.  Moments later there he was, the ginger curls all mussed up and, Alan noticed guiltily, yawning and rubbing his eyes in a way that suggested he’d just woken up.  

“Hey,” Alan greeted Brandon, smiling sheepishly.

“Alan?”  Brandon steadied himself on the doorframe, exhaustion still keeping tight hold on his body.

“Yeah, uh, can I come in?”  New Zealand was far colder than the island and Alan was feeling to temperature drop keenly, it probably didn’t help that he was still only in a t-shirt.  Seeing Brandon completely thrown for a loop had him seriously doubting the wisdom of his actions.  

“Oh God, yeah,” Brandon stepped to one side to let Alan in, the reality finally sinking in that Alan really was there on his front step, “I just wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I said I’d come as soon as I could,” Alan mumbled in explanation as he followed Brandon up the hallway and towards the lit room at the back of the cabin.

This was the first time that Alan had visited his home, it normally making far more sense for him to go to the island, and Brandon was suddenly uncomfortably aware of just how far removed it was from the opulence of Alan’s usual surroundings.  Even on a good day the cabin was pretty shabby and the whole four roomed building could easily fit inside the lounge of the Tracy villa.  Now, after three months of sitting empty the bach smelled musty and in need of a good airing, there was also a damp chill in the air which suggested the roof might have sprung a leak somewhere.  He had been meaning to spruce the place up a bit before Alan arrived, expecting him in the morning at the earliest; he hadn’t counted on the Tracy definition of ‘soon’ applying to vacation time as well.

Alan followed Brandon into the lounge area and dropped his bag on the floor, noting that his wasn’t the only case in the corner of the room.  He was really starting to regret heading over so quickly especially seeing as Brandon hadn’t even looked him in the eye since inviting him in, in fact he hadn’t even turned to face him since they reached the lounge.

Brandon scratched the back of his neck.  He’d been foolish to invite Alan to stay.  How could his little cabin compare to Tracy Island?  He felt the overwhelming need to explain.

“So, welcome to Casa Berrenger.  On the flanks of what has to be the greatest mountain in the world.”  He gesticulated at blinds that were closed across the picture window.  “I mean, I saw this place and thought ‘Hey Brandon, what could be cooler than having Ruapehu as your neighbour’.  You might have seen it, in some of my vlogs...”

“Brandon…”

“I filmed the very first one right on the slopes out there.  It was, like, totally awesome.  It’s still my favourite place to board, hence the cabin.  You should come stay when the snow’s right and I can take you on out the slopes, that would be, like, amazing...”

“Brandon…”  Alan hadn’t heard Brandon this babbling since he’d helped pluck him off a mountain following an avalanche.  Back then he’d initially taken Brandon’s non-stop chatter to be part of his natural exuberance but as he got to know him more he learnt that it was more a sign of nerves, a cover for the insecurities he kept hidden from the viewers.

“Except you’ve probably been there, right?  I mean, you’ve been everywhere.  But yeah, this little place isn’t much to look at now but in the morning when you can see her,” he waved vaguely at the shut blinds again, “man, the views more than make up for…”

“BRANDON!”

Brandon couldn’t put it off any longer.  He turned, hardly daring to meet Alan’s eyes which he was sure would show some sort of contempt at the small space with it’s meagre and mismatched furnishings.

Alan reached out and gently took hold of Brandon’s hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of it. “I don’t care where you live.  I didn’t come here to see the mountain.  I came because I wanted to see you...because I’ve missed you.”

Brandon looked up to see only warmth and softness in Alan’s gaze.  He closed the small gap between them, melting into the embrace as he rested his chin on Alan’s shoulder and felt a fool for worrying that Alan would be so shallow as to judge him on his home.  Despite their riches the Tracy family had never shown any signs of looking down on those who had less than them but he’d hardly ever let anyone cross the threshold of his little mountain sanctuary and it left him feeling vulnerable.

“I missed you too, three months is far too long,” he sighed as he gently planted a kiss on the warm neck.  Feeling the arms around him pull him in that bit closer he raised his head again so see a need darkening Alan’s eyes, a need that he felt mirrored in himself.  “Y’know, I was just off to bed when you got here.”

Alan quirked an eyebrow, knowing full well that Brandon had already been asleep despite being still fully clothed.  “Now that sounds like a nice idea, I could probably do with turning in too,” he yawned, “you aren’t the only one that’s been travelling, ‘cept I’ve been working too.”

“Uh, one slight problem,” Brandon smirked.  “This place isn’t as large as yours and, uh, there’s no guest room.  D’you think Virgil would have a problem with that?” he asked, referring to the rules laid down when they first hooked up which meant he always had a guest room available on the island, even if he never used it.

Alan cocked his head to one side as though giving the issue some serious consideration.  “Oh, I think we’ll find a way to manage.”  The lust in his eyes deepened as Brandon pulled away and led them back up the hallway towards the bedroom.

“Well then, I think it’s bedtime.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #Brandon Berrenger #Spacebears #fluffember2020