#gumnuts design | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katblu42 · 1 month

Text

Dinosaur Bandaids

I am totally blaming thanking @womble1 for inspiring this one, with one little line from her Sweetapple Slice 8 fic.

Also many thanks to @gumnut-logic for the read-through and help with the piece that was missing.

CW for mentions of blood/bleeding (nothing gory)

Virgil fumbled the opening of the box, contents spilling to the floor as he attempted to grab what he needed with just one hand. He cursed himself for his clumsiness. Again. It was clumsiness born of distraction that had necessitated the raiding of the little first aid kit to begin with.

Just a simple slip of the screwdriver and his left hand now had a nice bloody gouge in it. Not deep, and not longer than a few millimetres, but bleeding profusely, and a little painful. He had immediately wrapped a somewhat clean rag around his hand to staunch the bleeding while he fetched a bandaid to put over the wound. Next stop would be the sink to clean the area before applying the sticky plaster. If he was quick no one else would be any the wiser about his little mishap.

Of course, his hopes on that front were dashed as he bent to pick up the mess.

“Hey Virg! Watch doin’?” Gordon asked with mock innocence.

Virgil simply huffed in reply as Gordon scooped up the handful of little paper packets.

“Dinosaur bandaids, huh?” A raised eyebrow to rival one of Virgil’s own was deployed, along with a knowing grin. “Here, let me help.”

Plain beige sticking plasters were a rarity on Tracy Island.

The older residents of the villa would say it was because the Terrible Two had always demanded bright colours and fun designs on their wound dressings when they were little, and no one had ever bothered to change the habit during re-stocking purchases.

The Two in question would complain and say it was because said older residents had never admitted that the little ones were now adults.

There were some practical reasons too. A brightly coloured sticky plaster that had fallen off while performing tasks like food preparation or some types of maintenance would be more easily visible than plain beige.

If Virgil was honest with himself he’d say the real reason was because they all sometimes needed the little mood lift the bright designs provided. It was part of the magic ability bandaids had to make small injuries better.

Virgil allowed Gordon to take his hand and begin the process of cleaning and dressing the injury. Once done, Gordon gently smoothed the sticky plaster’s edges down one last time before looking up and locking eyes with his big brother.

“There you go. All better. The dinosaurs will take care of that little scratch.”

Virgil matched his little brother’s smile and thanked him with a hug before returning the box of bandaids to their rightful place.

Long gone were the days when Gordon or Alan would come running to a big brother because of some perceived injury that was completely invisible. The application of a blue bandaid covered in brightly coloured fish, or a black one with little red rockets, and a kiss to make it better was all it took to have a little brother smiling and running off to do more mischief.

Mom had done the same for the older boys when they had needed their bumps and scrapes tended. And Dad and Grandma had done their share of both patching up, and sticky plaster purchasing. There had never been boring beige ones as far back as Virgil could remember. And there had often been a variety of sizes and shapes in the medicine cabinet.

The habit had stuck so fast (not unlike the plasters themselves) that it had even affected the restocking of the Thunderbirds. Plain bandaids in a variety of sizes and skin tones were carried in every kit and medbay, but there were almost equal numbers of the patterned ones in the larger first aid kits.

Offering an injured child a choice of dinosaurs or aeroplanes was sometimes just the right kind of distraction from the fear and confusion of whatever event they had just been through. Virgil had even patched up a few beloved dolls and plushies with their own teddy bear plaster.

But, the novelty bandaids worked equally well on adults.

There had been so many occasions when Virgil had treated a rescuee with only minor cuts and scrapes, but with the tell-tale tremble and haunted expression that prompted him to offer the choice of plain or patterned. Without fail the glassy eyes would focus on the various designs, the tension in their bodies would ease and the bandaid magic would begin to take effect as they made their choice.

After all, when you’ve been through an event traumatic enough to require a Thunderbird to the rescue, doesn’t everyone deserve their very own superhero or fairy princess plaster to patch their wounds and lift their mood.

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fandom #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #cw blood

45 notes · View notes

tracybirds · 4 months

Text

I love Christmas time, and I am writing allllll the fic for it :D Here be the start of the main thing I've been working on! Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for reading through! I hope you're all having a very happy end to your year with love and laughter and good cheer <3

[Day 1 - you are here] | [Day 2] | [Day 3]

Five Days Where Christmas Didn't Seem To Go As Planned

Day One

The villa had been in a state of disarray for weeks in the lead up to Christmas. Rescues didn’t stop for any holiday, and with half the world flocking to ski resorts and snowboarding towns, International Rescue had been kept busy.

Scott hardly minded though, not that now the Christmas decorations were finally up. He checked the date on his comm and smiled. With record time to enjoy it too, it would seem.

Festive streamers hung from the ceiling; red, white and green, matching the candy canes and other sweet treats Gordon had scattered around the room. Scott could even see a few tell-tale stripes of peppermint added to the Christmas tree that Kayo and Alan had chosen. Reportedly, they’d fussed and argued for over three hours over the height, the bushiness and finding that perfect shade of green.

Scott was only grateful that John had called him away moments before the family left the island to make the big decision.

Tinsel and matching ornaments hung on its branches, that Virgil had arranged and rearranged by until the perfect balance between eye-catching sparkle and soft greenery had been found.

Along the walls were Brains and John’s contribution; flickering holograms of stars, trees, bursts of holly, reindeer – a projection of a perfect Christmas scene straight out of a storybook. Scott couldn’t help but grin to see a new style of hologram had joined them. It was EOS’s first attempt and although clumsy in comparison, the geometric patterns she’d coded and brought to life held a joy of her very own.

Central to the design were the Christmas stockings, neatly attached to the fire well. Even Lady Penelope and Parker had one, ready and waiting for Christmas morning when they would join the family.

The decorations brought a warm glow that enveloped the villa, and Scott stepped back, surveying the living room with a critical eye.

“It looks great, Scott,” said Jeff, looking almost as pleased as Scott felt. “Much nicer than the chicken scratch I had to make do with out there.”

Scott felt his smile grow fixed, the air catching in his lungs at Jeff’s offhand mention of his long ordeal in space. For the first few months, no-one had dared reference the Oort Cloud at all, tiptoeing around the subject until Jeff had put his foot down. Despite the nonchalance, Scott had noticed his father was reluctant to speak of the place directly and he couldn’t help but imagine the endless dark that had accompanied Jeff.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, forcing himself to speak. “I... well, thanks.”

Jeff looked at him closely.

“You did a good job,” he said slowly. “You’ve done a good job…”

He trailed off, as he often did nowadays, his eyes sliding off Scott and far away. Scott followed his gaze to the window, out beyond the watery pool lights and into the night.

Jeff shook himself slightly, his eyes refocused on the room in front of him again. “Sorry, Scott, got lost in my own head again,” he said. His brusque tone dismissed any attempt of concern, but did nothing to ease the turbulence in Scott’s own mind.

Jeff turned abruptly, and began to stride out of the room. He paused only once, his fingers resting lightly on the string of Christmas lights near the door.

“Do you remember those lights from when you were small? How strange that even Christmas lights are completely different.”

Then he left before Scott could say a word.

Scott gaped, his mind racing.

It seemed no matter how fast he turned things over in his mind, it wasn’t enough, his thoughts kept getting swallowed by the inky black that nearly swallowed him if it hadn’t been for his dad, and no-one was there to catch his dad for all those eight years, but Scott could do this now for him.

He didn’t really remember putting through the call to John but something must have convinced him because a few short minutes later he was flying over the Pacific.

The trip to the ranch and back went smoothly, and an hour later, Scott held his prize in his hands. He lugged the old box back up to the living room, smiling at the imperfect crafts that had served as their family Christmas decorations of yesteryear.

The pine cones dipped in silver and gold he placed in a bowl in the centre of the coffee table, the reindeer made of clothes pegs he propped up around them. There were paper snowflakes and popcorn kernels in a jar with some needles and thread, there was colourful card for the annual paper chain competition, there were woollen ornaments that Scott could remember his mother making with her friends on the cold, dark winter nights when Jeff was travelling to a new world. There was even an old Advent calendar in the shape of a tree that their Grandpa had made, numbers carved by hand into each wooden box.

And right at the bottom, wrapped up in a neat coil were the Christmas lights they’d hung over the fireplace.

A whiff of stale cinnamon and pine floated from the box and Scott staggered slightly, for a moment six years old on the other side of the globe. The lights were soft and warm, the long bulbs twisting over each other and twinkling brightly in the night. The long December nights were no more, not in this part of the world, but Scott still remembered how endless it felt, how the sharp, cold of daytime was never enough to push back the darkness.

It was nothing next to the endless nothing of the universe, but the Christmas lights had helped, and Scott knew that they’d help now. He found an old extension cord, scrabbling behind the sofas for the nearest power point and plugged them in.

Nothing happened.

Scott’s face fell.

Of course, the box had been jostled so often over the years, of course one of the bulbs had fallen out of alignment.

He sat down with a sigh, his back against his father’s desk, and began to check for loose bulbs.

“Now those, I haven’t seen in a long while,” said Grandma Tracy quietly, and Scott jumped.

“Grandma!”

“Oh hush, you’re halfway under Jeff’s desk. I can’t help sneaking up if you’re the one hiding.”

“I’m not hiding,” said Scott defensively.

“Then what are you doing, kid? And where’d you find these old things anyway?”

“At the ranch.”

Grandma Tracy paused for a moment, then slid to the ground next to him. Without a word, she untangled the other end of the coil and began to methodically check the lights with him.

“You’d better hope that’s all it is, a loose bulb,” she said. “If one’s blown, I’m not sure they make this kind anymore. It’s all LEDs and the like these days.”

“We’d make it work. Brains could solder the ends of something.”

“Hmm,” was all she said.

Together they worked in silence, one step closer with every twist.

“What made you go and get these, Scott?”

He shrugged. “Dad liked the decorations.”

“He didn’t like the new ones?”

“No, no he said it looked good.”

“He liked what you had, so you had to race off to get the old ones? We all noticed One dashing off, and you’re saying it was just for these old things? Tell me why that doesn’t add up, kid.”

Scott flushed. “There wasn’t any reason, I just wondered if we had more lights.”

“That’s a reason. Why’d you think we need more lights?”

His hands stilled.

“Dad mentioned the Oort,” he said, bracing himself for her response.

Grandma Tracy looked at him, her eyes searching for something in his expression. Scott didn’t know what, indeed hardly recognised the flash that was less than fear and more than mere concern that shot through him when he remember those long dark years without their Dad.

“I see,” she said. “Did he say anything else?”

She was cautious now, not willing to initiate discussion on anything his dad might have kept confidential, and Scott understood that, he did, he did, and yet…

“He won’t talk to me about it,” he said, the words dull in his mouth. “He doesn’t trust me, I know that.”

Grandma Tracy clucked her tongue and reached out to gently smack him. “Get that thought right out of your head, Scott Tracy. Your father’s done his best to keep that boundary in place for a reason. He’s not fool enough to rely on you for this, not after what happened when your mother died.”

Scott ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the lights that ran through his fingertips. He felt just as helpless as he did all those years ago, that first, long Christmas without their Dad.

“I just wanted to push the dark away. I keep imagining it, all those years without the sun…”

He broke off with a shudder, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

Grandma Tracy tugged him close, rubbing soothing circles as she held him.

“Now, Scott, don’t go inventing trouble when you’ve already got plenty of your own,” she said softly. “You’re going to have to trust me, and your father for that matter. We’ve got things handled.”

“But,” he began, but she shook her head.

“No ‘buts’, this one isn’t on you, kiddo. Your only job is to enjoy that we got our own Christmas miracle this year. He’s home, and he’s not going anywhere for a long while yet.”

Scott let out a slow, even breath. His hands uncurled, and he reached once more for the Christmas lights.

“He’s really here, isn’t he?” he asked, eyes on the bulbs.

Suddenly, the whole string lit up, red and yellow and blue and green, glowing orbs that trembled as he lifted the lights with a smile.

Grandma Tracy gripped his shoulder tightly, her eyes shining in the dancing light.

“He really is.”

[Continue to Day Two]

#scott tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #i have debated back and forth about posting bc the fic is not exactly.... finished lol #but it's not far off and I'm excited for it #so I am sharing <3 #fanfic 🥰#scott 💙#grandma 💜#jeff 🚀#thunderbirds #collected works (mine)#🎄🎄🎄#family feels #2015

43 notes · View notes

hebuiltfive · 3 months

Text

FAB-FIVE-FEB, Week One: Scott

This one was born from a random, mad, unserious thought. I keep putting Scott into terrible, secret meetings. Oopsies? Maybe one day I'll have him learn his lesson. This one features Captain Black, only because the crossover potential with Anderson shows is endless and I will forever be crossing them over here and there for the rest of time whenever I get the chance. Anyway, enough rambling. Here is my contribution to week one of @gumnut-logic's Fab-Five-Feb!

✨ Clandestine Meetings ✨

Scott’s arranged himself a meeting out of desperation, but it will probably be one he comes to regret. Prompts used: quiet, dimpled, “who, me?”

AO3 link here.

Dimly lit corridors; their cold and uninviting presence sent a chill up his spine.

He never should have come here. This had been an incredibly bad idea and yet… there he was.

Scott tried to ignore the dripping sounds. They came from above and symbolised the nearby river as the source. So far underground he was but the river was still seeping through. How badly built was this place? How hastily had it been constructed?

He blocked any more of those questions from his mind. Being trapped down in those tunnels, Scott had begun to become acquainted with the unfamiliar feeling of claustrophobia. He couldn’t say he was a fan.

Behind him were two guards. When he approached the designated entrance half an hour earlier, he had first deludedly believed it was his signature dimpled smile that had won the men over. Even though the meeting had been arranged prior to his arrival, the suspicious organisation of said meeting had led Scott into expecting some sort of difficulty somewhere along the line. The two guards stationed on the door had seemed the most likely source of said trouble, hence his charm and charisma coming into play.

He didn’t need those skills, he now realised. The guards kept pushing him forward whenever he slowed down, further and further into the unending maze of corridors that continued onwards for miles. There was something suspicious about the men, something off-putting that had Scott automatically revert to the defensive. He had organised this meeting with, what he guessed were, their boss. He had been in control the whole time.

So why did he suddenly feel like he lacked any power?

It would have been easy to get lost in such a vast cavern of underground tunnels. Scott figured that was the point; anyone who was trying to leave in a hurry, who wasn’t supposed to be leaving, would discover that finding the exit was almost impossible before being caught. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

Onwards and onwards they marched in uncomfortable silence and Scott began to feel disorientated. How much longer was it going to take? Candles on the walls did little to illuminate the area. He would have switched on his phone’s torch had the guards not taken it from him before he entered. Had they not crushed it right in front of him… with their bare hands… which, now Scott came to think about, was a little weird…

“Here.”

The guard to his left gripped Scott’s shoulder tightly to halt him going further. Scott bit back a curse from the pain. That’d leave a bruise.

Scott was manoeuvred to enter a room to the right. He hadn’t even noticed this particular corridor had doors. Had the others he’d passed through also had entrances and exits dotted along? The gloomy nature of the tunnel system had him racking his brain to try and remember, not that it mattered now of course.

He stepped into the room, just as dimly lit as the corridor, and the guards followed behind him. The one who still had a grip on him forcefully persuaded Scott to take a seat. He had no choice but to oblige.

“I’m surprised you even showed up, Tracy.” The figure who sat on the other side of the dusty desk was shrouded in shadow, but Scott recognised the voice from the previous calls he’d had with him. “I thought you’d take more caution before entering the unknown.”

“Who, me? Seriously? You clearly haven’t done nearly enough research into some of my youthful activities.” Scott aimed for nonchalant but his voice shook slightly. He cleared his throat. “You mentioned a deal?”

“That I did. For the right price, of course.”

Scott had been expecting something along those lines. Nothing was free in this world, even human decency.

“However much you want, it’s yours.”

The figure stood from his chair and rounded the desk. He wore all black, and Scott wondered whether that was a style choice or whether it was to blend in with the rest of the shadowed room.

“It isn’t money I seek, Tracy.”

“Then what is it?”

The man, now standing beside him, leant back against the desk behind him. In this position, Scott could make out his gaunt features. Did the guy live down here? It looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years, not to mention the sunken cheeks and haunted eyes.

“I said, what do you want?” Scott asked again when the man gave him no response.

“Your full co-operation.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We do not need your consent to gain co-operation, Tracy, nor do we need to wait for your answer before dealing with your friend. I would choose carefully.”

Scott blinked back his confusion, or was it his anger? He couldn’t tell. “My full co-operation with what?”

“That explanation will come with time. For now, you choose. Life or death.”

The glint of a barrel of a gun shone in the candle light as the man retrieved it from his holster. It looked to be a special issue, one that elite security teams would probably possess. Scott felt himself grow colder as he contemplated what the man was implying.

He wasn’t only threatening his brother’s life.

If Scott didn’t agree to this man’s terms, he also wouldn’t be walking out here alive.

“Fine. I accept. I offer you my full co-operation, just let them go.”

The gauntness of the man’s features seemed even more harrowing when he tried to smile. It was cold and calculating, almost smug. “No.”

“What? That wasn’t the deal we agreed to! You said if I came here—”

“I lied.” He returned to the shadowed side of the desk, holstering his weapon once again.

Scott released an exasperated sigh. “This isn’t— You can’t do that!”

“I think you’ll find that, down here, I can do whatever I want. Now, let’s talk business.”

“I’m not talking anything with you until you let my brother leave here.”

“You are in no position to bargain, Earthman.”

The term had Scott relenting on his demands. It was an odd term to use, one that suggested a possibility of… No.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

He could barely make out the man’s — the thing’s — shrug now he was back in the darkness. “If you do not see it as one, I do not care. The fact still remains true and you are trying to stall for time. It is pointless. You will lose.”

“I wasn’t aware we were playing a game.”

“We are not. This is situation is much larger than you could comprehend, Tracy. But, I am getting away from myself. You will listen, and you will listen closely. Only then will I consider releasing this brother of yours.”

#fabfivefeb2024 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfiction #five fics #thunderfam #prompt fill #scott tracy #crossover because i will never not write one when i have the chance

11 notes · View notes

whatgaviiformes · 1 year

Text

Craftworks: You're My Satellite

I had some decent light, so I was able to get these loaded and tagged this morning, so I am happy to present my lesson/experiment/exploration in colorwork: John.

Four colors, but I love the layers all those different shades add to the design elements of this doily. I think our resident genius would appreciate that I used this as a learning opportunity, always pushing his mind into so many fields our John. The colors here overlap slightly with Nutty's @gumnut-logic's palette challenge, but not perfectly. I went with shades that remind me of John's uniform, his hair, the silver for the metallic of Five. In the end, I think it gave me John and a bit of TB5, both, which I am 100% okay with. I've always seen them both as so colorful. The holograms, the pathway lines around her gravity ring. Speaking of rings, I adore the block of that blue-green around the middle.

Pattern: Ember by Grace Fearon Yarn: I used scrap thread, most of which is Hobbii Rainbow Lace or Aunt Lydia's, all size 10 thread. Here are recommendations for something close to this: Hobbii Rainbow Lace in 031 "Blue", 035 "Petrol Blue", 057 "Orange Aunt Lydia's: Dark Royal, Peacock, Pumpkin For the shimmer, Aunt Lydia's Silver Shimmer. (Who had the grand idea to try to do color specific designs while also trying to do a no buy, honestly!) Hook size: 1.5 mm Finished Size: 14 inches

More of the Thunderbirds inspired doilies here:

Scott - “Hypersonic” - Pattern Asha by Grace Fearon Gordon - “Four” - Pattern Cassini by Grace Fearon Virgil - “Stability” - Pattern Tallulah by Grace Fearon Penelope - Pattern Penelope by Grace Fearon

#Gavii Makes Stuff #crochet #Crocheting #doily #Thunderbirds Inspired Doilies #I craft and I am a geek don't judge me

57 notes · View notes

goannafr · 1 year

Text

Dragon A Day 2023: DAY TWENTY: An Ancient

I knew I had to pick a Banescale in honour of Pheel's obsession with them :P

This is Gumnut, another of my million dragons with no lore or design. I went with a mammalian look for her, and since she and her mate (and their kids) are named after Australian trees, I based her off another Aussie animal, the tassie devil! Still no clue on lore but at least she LOOKS cool now haha. I think if I ever get around to drawing a fullbody of her I want her Plumage to look like gumleaves

#this is just a doodle but TIS ALL I HAD ENERGY FOR after work sobs #flight rising #goanna's art #dragonaday2023 #gumnut #banescale dragons

47 notes · View notes

greywake · 1 year

Text

FabFiveFeb

I haven't forgotten! Uni assignments are still eating my life but this one wanted to be set free.

(There will be one more - no way Kayo's going to get to slink off!) I still blame @gumnut-logic for the fun I've been having with this!

AO3 link here

The Confidence of Idiocy

“Why? Because I’m smarter than you! If it wasn’t for my brillian…”

John barely managed to restrain the urge to roll his eyes at Fishler’s latest rant as he put the man back on mute.

Honestly, you’d think that someone who’d managed to get stuck underground thanks to unfettered digging that resulted in a cave-in would be a little more concerned with safety. But then again, if he was, he wouldn’t be Langstrom Fischler.

“Thunderbird Two, how’s it looking?”

"Slow but we'll get there," Virgil grunted, obviously putting effort into the earthmoving tasks. “Do we even know what he was trying to achieve down here?”

He grimaced, “Something about taking advantage of untapped geothermal potential.”

“But…”

John suppressed the urge to grin at the outrage in his brother’s voice. “I know.”

“There’s no…”

“I know.”

“But it's too deep and geologically unstable in this area!”

Virgil was insulted. Deeply. Viscerally.

It was the same tone Virgil had used the last time he'd been near apoplectic over the suggestion that internal components could be substituted for cheaper options to keep costs down without compromising safety and efficiency.

John had to suppress a giggle at the reaction to the generally relaxed engineer’s rant.

“Scans are showing that you’re approximately one hundred metres away from Fischler and his people. Can you give me an estimate on how long it’ll take to get through?”

“So long as nothing else goes wrong, we should reach the id…” Virgil paused as Scott coughed a warning, “The control capsule in about half an hour.”

“FAB.”

He sighed and checked the clock as he unmuted the little transparent Fischler hologram, “...n’t possibly understand the…”

“Mr Fischler,” John ruthlessly interrupted the diatribe. Seriously, how was the guy still talking?! “Our current estimates suggest that we’ll reach you in approximately thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes?” The hologram waved its tiny arms in apparent rage. “Totally unacceptable! Call yourselves International Rescue? More like International Slow Pokes! Make a note! I’m going to start my own rescue agency. I will develop vehicles that are faster, better than anything you…you… incompetents have!”

John sighed, “Mr Fischler, please calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? I shall do no such thing! I will…”

Reaching the end of his patience, John muted the scientist again, “Scott, Virgil, anything you can do to hurry would be appreciated. Fischler’s giving me a headache.”

“We’ll do what we can, John. Just hang in there.” Scott’s reassuring voice gave him the fortitude he needed to deal with the man.

“I believe I have calculated a more efficient route to the buried command capsule, John. Shall I forward it to Virgil?” EOS’ childlike voice sounded over the speakers.

“Please, EOS. Anything we can do to get Fischler out quicker will be good for everyone.”

The AI was silent for a moment as she complete her task. “I really don’t see how he can justify calling International Rescue incompetents. I have analysed the reports on projects directly involving Langstrom Fischler. There is a ninety-three per cent failure rate, typically caused by shoddy manufacturing, substandard materials, insufficient safety measures, and a litany of other easily resolved issues.”

John raised an eyebrow. It couldn’t be good that the AI had picked up on the general Tracy antipathy towards the man to the point that she would join in with the criticism.

“In conclusion, I believe that Langstrom Fischler is not capable of successfully designing anything more complicated than a wet handkerchief.”

He masked his snort of amusement with a cough and gave the ring of LEDs a stern look. “Please make sure you never repeat that anywhere that Fischler could hear it, EOS.”

“Yes, John.” There was definitely a giggle in her voice.

Yep. She had definitely been spending too much time with Gordon and Alan.

46 notes · View notes

gaviicreates · 1 year

Text

Crafty Collabs + FO: Slouchy Home for Enki

Hello fellow crafters!

This week I bring you a finished object, and it's actually one I finished not just once but twice. How does that happen? Because the first time I was unhappy with it so I frogged the whole thing.

To Frog (verb) - to rip it, rip it, rip all your completed work out to fix a problem or to change the design. Usually comes with tears and a side of time-out for the project while the maker deals with the emotions involved.

I tell my friends all the time - give me something flat and I am golden, even with the most complex texturing. But as soon as you give me a shape, I am *so* out of my wheelhouse. :) So it's been a hell of a ride, getting this hat to Finished Object status.

~*~ So the story of this hat comes from a vision I had after receiving a special gift from a friend all the way across the world. For those of you that know me through my fandom blog, you know who Enki is and likely why I love dolphins (really all cetacean-kind). But for those of you who are new to my interests, dolphins have always just been a thing. When I was growing up, my coming of age stories were those of Madeleine L'Engle, and if you haven't yet read beyond A Wrinkle in Time, I recommend the YA novel A Ring of Endless Light, which has always been a huge inspiration to me.

Enki is an OC of the sea mammal world that has appeared in a few of my stories. I can't speak for @gumnut-logic for the why, but it means so much to me that something inspired her to create this beautiful piece. Check out her bead embroidery piece below.

So this lil dolphin made his way through the postal service, and once I received the gift, I knew I wanted to make something special to display the pin among my wardrobe. Crochet and Hats are both crafty things that have gotten us through the past few months, so it was a quick jump envisioning him splashing up from the brim.

I knew I wanted a colors to complement the work in the pin, and not take away from their shine, so I matched it to this grey hand-dyed colorway from Malabrigo's Arroyo line "Plomo". Once I had the brim selection, I picked a main color for the hat itself, and landed with a second colorway called "Kris" with similar greys and an array of sea greens.

For my first attempt at the hat I followed a pattern, and the hat didn't necessarily turn out wrong, but I decided I didn't like the way it fit - the brim was okay but could've been a bit firmer, and the looseness of the hat itself made the hat feel way oversized for my head. Within the pattern there was the suggestion to go up a hook size and I followed the instructions before deciding this particular design wasn't for me. I also had tried to do some striping that in the end disappeared within the second shade. It wasn't different enough to stand out, so I scrapped that idea with the second attempt.

Attempt 1: - Striping, Different shaping for the hat and the crown.

Here is attempt 2 in its final glory. Attempt 2 - Elongated hat for additional slouch, "winged it" on the crown. Bye Bye eye-grating stripes.

I think the changes really made a difference to the final look, and that's not just because of the good camera. The color variegations are better defined here, the grey of the brim ends up working better to complement since the "Kris" colorway already had grey intermingled and didn't need it added. I also am really liking how the slouch works this time. The stitches are crisper for one, but it also gives me the flexibility to fold the brim up if I want and then it will fit like a standard beanie.

The stitch I used for both the brim and the hat is the [US terms] half double crochet (hdc). Working into the front two loops gives you a third loop free in the back, and that's the design I decided to celebrate. The outside you see here is actually the inside as I crocheted in the round. I just turned it inside and out and made sure to weave my ends in on the opposite side.

As much as I hated having to frog, I am so happy now that I took that leap and gave myself time to think of the next game plan.

Pin Design: Gumnut Inspired Yarn Weight: DK Yarn Brand and Colorways: Malabrigo Arroyo in "Plomo" and "Kris" Hook Size: 3.5mm

#finished object #Gavii Makes Stuff #Crochet #Crocheting #Malabrigo #Malabrigo yarn

15 notes · View notes

wonderingwendy · 1 year

Text

Great thing about free time is you never really know what you’re going to end up doing, learning or seeing. One day last week when temperatures were not in the 30s, we left on foot toward South Perth (known for the Perth Zoo but not our chosen destination) with only exploring in mind. We reached the bottom of Kaarta koomba (Kings Park) bluff and had a busy freeway to navigate across. I saw a pedestrian overpass in one direction but Craig noted an unmarked cross walk the other. In Australia, you may already know but vehicles have the right away so crossing a freeway can be a very harrowing experience. So a sandy gritty walk to the overpass it was.

The overpass itself was noticeably immaculate, air conditioned and linked a three level parking lot (or car park) to The Old Swan Brewery - a beautifully restored red brick building on the riverfront visible from downtown (or CBD central business district) Perth. The old brewery ceased production in 1966 and is now condos, offices, a restaurant (Cooee) and a non-operational brew pub (why it is not open is beyond me - imagine a brick RVYC building in Stanley Park, Vancouver with a fully built out antique bar and you can walk along the seawall to get there).

Cooee’s patio looked out to the Swan River and seemed so zen we decided to stop for an iced dirty chai latte and banana bread (wondering where did the banana bread craze come from?). We voted this chai the best we’ve had ever.

Recharged and emptied bladders, we set off across the bridge. The salt water river was jammed with huge ominous jellyfish which made me wonder about efforts to rejuvenate the ecological health of the Swan River. Couldn’t find much online but hopefully someone’s concerned about it and taking action. Update - apparently the rise in water temperature is responsible for the increase in jellyfish. This guy is kinda gross and harmless but apparently very protective of the lighter coloured ones that do sting.

The waterfront park and walk on the south side was expansive and quiet. The condos along South Perth Esplanade (such inventive names) were a nice mix of decades of design and the grounds all well manicured. There’s a catamaran ferry (small seabus) that runs every fifteen minutes to the CBD for $2.30 each way. Once you reach the dock of the ferry, you’ve reached the hub of South Perth - felt a little bit like Edgemont. We wandered up through the Shopping Plaza (basically a lobby area) and onto the street and headed towards the park and the zoo, stopping a a quaint little museum. Apparently South Perth was joined to the rest of the city by the tram system back in the early 1900s, much to the dismay of some of its residents. In fact one person shot at the conductor and the tram when the situation reach its boiling point. And we saw the sketches of May Gibbs, former Perth resident who is famous for her gumnut babies tales and illustrations. Further on our walk, the zoo didn’t appeal enough to pay the entrance fee but we did learn of the hardy grass trees (balga) a staple of the aboriginals, which flower after bushfires and their sap mixed with charcoal and kangaroo poo makes a superglue resin (some dirty hands must have discovered that!). As well as the grass trees and the related information sign, I wanted to show the solar panels used as a covered shaded walkway up to the zoo entrance. How clever.

Wandering back through the shopping area, including some frivolous clothing try ons, we took note for future visits that some of the condos have monthly rental available. We discovered the Good Grocer (Urban Fare like) with all its healthy reasonable readymade food options. While we continued our walk along the seawall, it was reaching the high for the day of 29. Up ahead a sandwich board sign caught my eye about a driverless vehicle test being conducted by RAC (Royal Automobile Club like BCAA or AMA) so we signed up for it in the hopes of escaping the heat.

The 11 seater electrical bus (equipped with ceiling straps for more standing passengers) has been gathering data since 2016 (7 years!) on a programmed route between the riverfront and The Old 1835 Mill (more on that later maybe). This route is about 2km and 1/2 hour return trip apparently using superior technology to Tesla. There were three buses manufactured but only one currently in daily operation except during lightning storms. I’m wondering why there’s not more of these on the roads gathering data and why there’s not enough data gathered after 7 years to show the ideal options for the safe use of this technology. Hospitals, public park maintenance, airports all seem reasonable places to use these autonomous vehicles to transport people safely. Apparently legislation is blocking further expanded use of them. Wondering how reactionary human operators could be viewed as safer than these emotionless and egoless programmed electric vehicles operated at optimally efficient speed.

Our surprise day ended with a riverfront dirty martini happy hour and quinoa salmon salad for dinner and a driver operated ferry and bus ride for our return trip back. Who knew what this 15k step day would bring.

#old swan brewery #cooee #jellyfish #improved #swan river #best chai #electric vehicles #driverless #south perth #grass trees

3 notes · View notes

depravae · 2 years

Photo

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 [ ... ] 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝑆𝐻𝐼𝐹𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄.

( or: a deep dive into one 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚊 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚗. )

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐎𝐑 : 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

full name: cassandra elisabeth quinn. nicknames, aliases: known primarily as cass. occasionally called cassie. meaning of names: cassandra is of greek origin, & means ‘shining upon man’ / originates with the myth of cassandra, gifted with prophecies but otherwise unbelieved. elisabeth is a biblical name of hebrew origin, meaning ‘god is my oath’. quinn, as a surname, is of irish origin & means descendant of conn. age: twenty - six. date of birth: may 19th, 1996. place of birth: sydney, australia. western zodiac: taurus. species: human. nationality: australian. gender: cis woman. pronouns: she/her. sexual orientation: bisexual. romantic orientation: biromantic.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐎𝐑 : 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋.

marital status: single. children: none. mother: jacqueline michelle quinn. father: timothy edward quinn. siblings: two older sisters. extended family: a wide array of aunties, uncles & cousins on both sides. pets: a red heeler named molly.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐎𝐑 : 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.

weight: fifty - five kilograms. height: five foot seven. build: ectomorph. has a dancer's body ; muscles are long, lithe, & graceful. powerful, muscled legs & a toned core. face shape: heart - shaped, with prominent cheekbones & a strong jawline. hair colour: black, glossed to give it a reddish tinge in sunlight. hair length: extremely long — currently falls to waist - length, regularly trimmed. hairstyle: naturally wavy. if at work at the midnight sun, she either leaves it down in its natural state or straightens it. if it’s tied up, it’s elaborate. away from the midnight sun, it’s usually in the world’s sloppiest ponytail / bun / braid. buns are usually held together by a pen or a takeaway chopstick. eye colour: dark brown, almost black. eye shape: almond, very wide. skin type: freckled, most noticeable along her nose & her back. birth mark on her nose, & a beauty mark above her lip. scars: a litany of scars on her knees & elbows from childhood incidents ; a prominent white scar that wraps around ¾ of her right bicep. tattoos: red snake on her right side. fine line gumnut on the back of her right ankle. ornamental piece along her spine. fine line rose on her left hip. foliage wrapping around her left shoulder. piercings: three piercings in each lobe. helix in her left ear, daith & conch in her right ear. both nipples. anomalies: hyperextended knees. dominant hand: right. voice: low, a little raspy with a lean towards a vocal fry but like … not an actual one. has a tendency to talk fast ( an australian thing / she’ll tell you it’s to keep the flies out of her mouth, & she’s only partially kidding ). accent: ‘standard’ australian accent. fashion sense: heavily dependent on context. when she’s working at the midnight sun, it’s nothing but extraordinarily skimpy lace & occasionally some leather in jewel tones — royal purple, ruby red, emerald green, sapphire blue. lots of black. sky high heels & one of magda’s borrowed furs completes the look, along with relatively understated gold jewelry. when she’s off duty, she’s a lot more casual & favours crewneck sweaters in earthy tones, comfy jeans, track pants or leggings. lots of sneakers, very much designed to be as unobtrusive as possible.

physical disabilities: none.

alcohol consumption: nothing exceptional. social drinker, keeps a bottle of johnnie walker black label next to her bed for a lazy nightcap when she’s too tired to get a glass. cigarette consumption: what started off as a social habit has now become a habit, & she won’t ever be found without a packet of marlboro reds & a lighter. drug consumption: nothing more than pot & the occasional bit of coke or ecstasy on a night out.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑, 𝐎𝐑 : 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋.

occupation: dancer at the midnight sun. commission agent ( undercover & relatively secretive, not known to those outside the commission itself ). education: graduated anu ( australian national university ) with a bachelor of arts, double majoring in psychology and justice studies, first - class honours. started a masters’ degree in psychology at the university of nevada, but dropped out. literacy: silver - tongued loud mouth, with an uncanny ability to talk her way into anything & anything. skilled orator would be an incredible understatement ; it comes as no surprise that cass was the head of her high school debate team. she loves books, but doesn’t get as much downtime to read as she would normally like. there’s always a cheap pulpy paperback shoved in her bag, though, just in case she gets bored. numeracy: she definitely isn’t as good with numbers as she is with language, but she’s still alright. she doesn’t love it, though, let’s put it that way. languages spoken: english, some french & spanish. sleeping habits: averages about 5 hours, does love a good afternoon nap. horrific at getting out of bed early ; antithesis of a morning person. sleeps smack bang in the middle of the bed, quite a heavy sleeper. not prone to nightmares, but does wake up at least once through the night. eating habits: she tries, & that’s what matters ! breakfast is hit & miss, but she’ll always buy a coffee or four to get through. she favours light lunches, & usually gets something light for dinner considering that most nights she’s at the club & eats in her breaks. loves fruit, & will always have fresh fruit on her if she needs a snack. good cook, too ; again, she just doesn’t get the chance to do it as much as she’d like. exercise habits: by nature, her job keeps her fit so she doesn’t really exercise outside of it. she does try to fit in a run here & there, but she’s not beating herself up about it. emotional stability: chuckles nervously ! she’s quick to anger & prone to thinking with her fists first ; it doesn’t take a lot to get on her nerves, & she’s known to hold a grudge until the day she dies. not nearly as stable as she’d like to sell herself as. her hold on her temper & emotional stability in general is alright, but it’s easy for her to lose grip & focus. sociability: lingers in the funny space between introverted & extraverted. the time she spends with friends does tend to fuel her, & it takes a lot to really drain her social battery but once she’s depleted she’s snappy & rude & highly irritable. ambitions: professionally, her ambitions are just to do a good job ; she’s not trying to climb the ladder & get into an administrative role or anything like that. she just wants to get by, make a living, & go home to bed. marriage & family aren’t overly important at this stage – her goal really is just to make it one day to the next.

mental disabilities: none.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄, 𝐎𝐑 : 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒.

chinese zodiac: rat. myers - briggers: intp. enneagram: type 5, the investigator. temperance: melancholic. moral alignment: true neutral. vice: wrath. virtue: diligence. element: earth. tarot card: justice.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗, 𝐎𝐑 : 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.

compassion: 5.5/10. empathy: 6.5/10. creativity: 8/10. mental flexibility: 9/10. passion: 8/10. stamina: 9/10. physical strength: 9/10. battle skill: 8.5/10. agility: 9/10. strategy: 8/10. teamwork: 10/10. strength: 7/10. intelligence: 9/10. wisdom: 5/10. dexterity: 6.5/10. charisma: 9/10. reflexes: 8.5/10. willpower: 6/10. luck: 5/10.

musical - rhythmic intelligence: 9.5/10. visual - spatial intelligence: 7/10. verbal - linguistic intelligence: 8/10. logical - mathematical intelligence: 4.5/10. bodily - kinesthetic intelligence: 9/10. interpersonal intelligence: 8/10. intrapersonal intelligence: 6/10. existential intelligence: 7.5/10. naturalistic intelligence: 8/10.

#( 𝔦. ) ⎯⎯ ◟ 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗻‚ 𝗰𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮 : studied.#all links lead 2 ref images <3 #scuttles off to do my skincare n then a couple starters

4 notes · View notes

decourcydesignunitedstates · 11 months

Text

Gumnut Bouquet Collection

Enjoy Our Original Designs Of the Beautiful Australian Gumnut Bouquet Collection Prefer A Different Colour Or Design? Let Us Know

Gumnut Bouquet Collection

I am an artist and designer. DeCourcy Design is a print on demand business. I find great products and print my designs on them. Apparel, Accessories, Home Decor. When someone goes to my website and order a product, the order goes directly to the manufacturer and they fulfilled that order. My products are not created until they are purchased. So, I have no inventory. The focus should be on originality and exclusivity as they are all products designed by me and not available anywhere else.

#digitalartshomedecorusa #digitalartscollectionsusa #highwaistyogacaprileggings #kookykatsorangelattemug #foamyogamatusa

0 notes

tracybirds · 1 year

Text

Happy Birthday Squid (again <3)

This is new fic number one - derived from @gumnut-logic's FAB Five Feb Challenge! I used the prompts "You didn't", lost, and puppy :D And big thanks for reading it through with me too!!

Hope you enjoy and all have a wonderful day!!

---

“Hey Scott?”

The voice sprang up from behind him, the touch of wheedling pleas already rising.

“No.”

Gordon pouted. Scott didn’t take his eyes off the tablet, resolve as solid as rock.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“I don’t need to know. Whatever it is, the answer’s no.”

“It’s not a big thing.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s so small, you won’t even notice him.”

“Too bad Gordon,” said Scott, frowning at the departmental reports that had been sent from human resourcing. A nought point six percent turnover, three thousand applicants for their fifty spots for paid internships, a variety of new talents, the best and the brightest all showcasing their portfolios, hoping for investment in their designs.

Scott couldn’t help but feel it had been a good year.

Then Gordon’s words replayed in his head, snagging violently on one particular point.

“What do you mean ‘him’?”

A sharp bark answered him and he looked up to see a tiny puppy squirming in Gordon’s hands. A mere puff of dark fur, with a high whine and two bright brown eyes that peered up at him beneath an overgrown mop.

“Gordon! You didn’t!”

Personnel were forgotten in a heartbeat, a summary of lives cast aside for the immediate situation.

“Where’d you pick up a puppy from?”

Gordon looked a little lovesick, beaming down at his new prize.

“Isn’t he adorable,” he cooed. “Grandma’s scheduling a check-up with the vet as we speak.”

“You can’t keep him!”

Gordon gasped, gently cupping a hand over the small ears.

“He can hear you! He needs a lot of love right now, Virgil found him all sad and bedraggled under one of the medbeds on Two. He must have been terrified during take-off.”

Scott groaned. If Gordon had Grandma and Virgil on his side, he didn’t stand a chance.

He scrabbled for reason, mind racing for something to make Gordon see things straight.

“What about John?”

Gordon only looked at him strangely.

“What about him?”

“Yes, Scott, what about me?”

John popped up between them, eyes glinting with mischief at Scott’s startled leap backwards.

He glared at him.

“Don’t do that.”

John only chuckled and swung around to face Gordon.

“Oh, is this the little guy?” he asked mildly. “Virgil just gave me the news.”

He stretched out a virtual hand, chuckling a little as the puppy woofed suspiciously at the approaching blue glow.

“He’s cute,” he said with a smile, glancing up to meet Gordon’s eyes. “Does he have a name?”

“We’re calling him Fluffbutt,” said Gordon with a grin and lacing him gently on the table.

Scott couldn’t deny the name suited him, watching the wagging tail flop back and forth at the speed of light, faster than the eye could see.

“We still can’t keep him, John’s allergic.”

“Seems alright, right now,” said Gordon, laughing as Fluffbutt chased John’s fingers which trailed light above him.

“In a hologram.”

“Scott, calm down,” said John, with no small amount of amusement. “I’ll just stay up here a while longer.”

“You can’t stay up there forever.”

John and Gordon glanced at each other, an unspoken conversation flashing between them.

Scott began to get a funny feeling he might have missed something.

“Who said anything about forever?” asked John, eyebrow raised. “It’s a few extra mandated days, I’m sure I’ll live.”

“What do you mean days?” ask Scott, narrowing his eyes.

He really did not have time for John’s riddles.

Gordon pitched his voice upwards, imitating the pleading whine from before. It would have been perfect if not for the touch of mocking sarcasm.

“Hey, Scott?” he asked, drawing out the sound of his name.

Scott closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he internally counted to five. He thought he could feel a headache creeping up his spine and through his nervous system, seconds away from erupting in his temples.

“Yes, Gordon?”

“Virgil and I found a puppy on TB2 and he’s too young to leave alone. Can I take my downtime a week early and look after him until Penelope gets home from her conference and can take him for good?”

Scott nodded slowly, still refusing to open his eyes and dropping his head in his hands.

“Sorry, what was that, Scott?”

“Sure, Gordon,” he said loudly, ignoring John’s choked chortles. “That sounds like a great plan.”

He needed to track down some painkillers pronto.

“Maybe,” said John, with an air of innocence that might have been believable if it weren’t for Gordon’s sniggering, “you shouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly.”

“Yes,” agreed Gordon, “you’re always telling me to stop making assumptions. Something about it making you look like an ass?”

Scott looked across at him wearily. Gordon had scooped up the pup and was grinning at him.

“You’re right, I was wrong,” he said, forcing the words out of his mouth. “I’ll change the schedules.”

“Sounds great,” agreed Gordon. He gently lifted one of Fluffbutt’s paws and waved goodbye to John before turning and left the room, cooing at his new charge as he walked.

“Don’t say anything,” said Scott.

John laughed again.

“He’ll make you regret this, you know.”

He did.

#gordon tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic

33 notes · View notes

whatgaviiformes · 1 year

Text

Fic: yellow's not my favorite color aka: Gordon's Birthday Mini-Scenes 2

Pure, self-indulgent Fish-Tank for your Gordon's birthday celebrations. I am unapologetic about this.

Also, it's hardcore fluff this time, promise!

For @gumnut-logic FabFiveFeb and @godsliltippy who also has a one shot about this idea, which you can read here. It's great. :D

Characters: Virgil, Gordon Words: 1362 Genre: Fluff

Where Gordon had free reign, chaos was sure to follow. This meant there were a few places around the villa he was barred from entering. It included each of his brothers’ bedrooms, Brains’ lab, and Virgil’s studio. So naturally, those were the places he tried to frequent on a regular basis. Either out of spite, or boredom, for the love of the challenge, or just to get under his family members’ skin, Virgil didn’t know.

Little brothers. Annoying as hell.

He’d taken precautions. Ignoring the fact that he’d had a grand time designing the lettering of his do not disturb sign and the that means Squids underneath, he’d also reset the code on his lock just in case the request for privacy went ignored.

Which is why it still surprises him when his door swings open with a hiss backed by a triumphant whoop from the exact squidling of a brother he needed to keep out in the first place.

“Great job on the lock there, V!”

“What is wrong with you?!” He can’t help it; it comes out screeching, as he’s more occupied trying to block his brother from seeing what’s on the canvas than he is the tone of his voice. The shock hinders his ability to sound authoritative and intimidating the way he’d want – plus, that never seemed to work on Gordon in the first place. “How did you get in?” he demands.

“Johnny,” Gordon says, sauntering his way further in, and turning to examine the pristine collection of art supplies Virgil’s got organized and displayed. “He thought I couldn’t break your code. Turns out, I can. Take that, Space Case.” He sticks his tongue out at the ceiling.

“You annoyed him to the point he gave you a challenge to get you out of his hair,” Virgil corrects, “and into mine. Thanks, John.”

“Call it what you will. But we do need to talk about your passwords. Kip Harris’ birthday, really, Virgil?”

He flushes. “Gordon, I’m working on your birthday present. You can’t just barge-”

“I know, and I looked away.” He swirls back to him, a set of art pencils in his hands. “Promise.”

“Put those down!” His footsteps thunder and he can feel his blood pressure skyrocketing the longer Gordon grins at him, not backing down. “This is why you’re not allowed in here.”

It’s supposed to be his quiet space, his sacred space.

“I’m just bored.”

His meditative space.

“Please, Virgil?”

His. Own.

“Please. You know how I get when it’s raining.”

“Fine,” he huffs, prying his expensive set of pencils of Gordon’s hands and placing them back where they belong on the shelf and instead grabbing a set of sharpened Crayola. “But you use these.”

“Thanks, Virgil.”

Gordon selects a sketchpad too, and Virgil also watches him like a hawk to make sure it’s one he’s comfortable with Gordon drawing in. Gordon knows better than to look through his sketches, so he’s really only allowed to touch the yellow book. Virgil had chosen it that way for a reason, since Gordon was drawn to the color yellow the way fireflies were drawn to light.

Virgil watches him as he moves around the space. There’s a chance the pressure has caused pain in his back, but Virgil knows better than to ask. Gordon will tell him if he needs anything more than a distraction from the fact the rain has left his usual haunts – the pool, the lagoon, the beach - inaccessible. Virgil still notes that he moves a little stiffly, hinting at perhaps that his brother is handling some pain.

His brother settles into the comfortable armchair nestled below the massive leaves of Virgil’s monstera plant. Her pot is to the right of him, but she towers within the room, flourishing the way Virgil likes it – a little unruly, and using the environment around her as support. In a place where he’s got everything meticulously organized, the whims of the plantlife remind him that nature is beautiful in spite of not being perfect. And it’s kind of right that his most chaotic sibling sometimes finds solace beneath her shadows, where the fenestrations in her leaves form stripes of shade over his face as he doodles in Virgil’s book.

In his brother’s book, which Virgil keeps in his studio and might sometimes leave little fishy sketches in.

Virgil’s got Gordon’s birthday present on the easel, and his set up is luckily angled in the right position where Gordon can’t see what he’s working on from his corner, and for a bit they work together in silence.

For a bit.

“Have you heard about the sea turtles over in California?” Gordon starts, and Virgil tunes him out because, while he does actually listen to what Gordon has to say most times, Virgil knows that he’s just speaking to fill the silence. He nods and hmms at appropriate times because he’s got bigger fish to fry at the moment than listening to Gordon rave about the latest in his collection of news articles or marine podcast, which (for the record) Gordon’s also no doubt already ranted to John about. So, he doesn’t actually need Virgil to respond.

Virgil’s busy frowning at his palette of colors. His skyline is complete and he’s figured out which way he’d like his light source to be coming from, but his vision for the painting feels off. He can’t put his finger on why, but he has to decide soon. He’ll have to scrap the painting if he gets too far along and decides it’s not what he’s going for.

The problem is Gordon.

It’s always Gordon, but in this case it’s not the babbling in front of him. It’s the fact he wants to do this right and his brother’s favorite color is yellow. Of all things, bright yellow.

“ – and so their shell designs are like our fingerprints and – why are you staring at that paint tube like it killed our puppy?”

“We don’t have a puppy.”

“Mhmm. And?”

Virgil finally glances up at him. “Why do you have to like yellow so much?”

“Uhhh, because it’s a delight. Why?”

“My brain’s not letting me use it, but it’s your birthday gift so I’ve been trying to figure it out how to include it,” Virgil laments. He gives him a small, wry smile, holding up the offending tube of paint for Gordon to see. “Would you hate me for not including your favorite color?”

Gordon squints at it from across the room. “Yellow’s not my favorite color.”

“Excuse me?” It’s a good thing the lid was on his paint tube. “What in the world? Gordon.” He laughs in an almost hysterical panic because this? This is ground-shaking knowledge, world-shifting, in fact. “You wore yellow speedos every swim meet! But your favorite shirt – and Four – your favorite flowers are sunflowers!”

“Well, yeah. Yellow’s my luckiest color. And my happiest,” he agrees. “But it’s not my favorite.”

“What’s your favorite, then?”

Gordon bounces out of the chair, and slides his way into Virgil’s space, taking care not to step around the front view of the painting. He takes the paint tube out of Virgil’s hands and examines it, smiling. “Daffodils are also up there as far as favorites go, but here” - he hands it back to Virgil and rummages through the selection of paint tubes, pulling a new one free – “green.”

Gordon hands it over to him, and his vision blurs staring at it. It’s his green, the green of spring, and the dress their mother wore the first time she took him to an art museum, and Two.

“It makes me feel safe,” Gordon tells him quietly. “And that’s a really, really good feeling.”

“Damn,” Virgil curses as he feels his emotions pooling at the corners of his eyes. “I’m supposed to be mad at you for breaking and entering and snooping.” He drags Gordon into his arms, still holding the tube of paint between his fingers but curling his hand around the mess of hair at the top of Gordon’s head. “You do this on purpose, don’t you?”

“Mhmm,” Gordon mumbles into his paint-smeared work shirt. “Sap. But it’s still true.”

#gavii scribit #fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2023 #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #for the love of fishtank

51 notes · View notes