#i was 3 when thunderbirds came out

[secretagentsagainstwhatever]

OMFG Madame de Pompadour from doctor who is Lady Penelope from Thunderbirds?!!!

#why did no one tell me #everyone probably knew this #but in my defense #i was 3 when thunderbirds came out #and 5 when girl in the fireplace aired #thunderbirds movie #thunderbirds 2004 #doctor who #tenth doctor #the girl in the fireplace #doctor who 2006 #i mean fwiw #she’s an absolutey terrible person irl #like a complete dick #i just couldn’t believe i’d never noticed #i’m dumb #bloody love thunderbirds though #listen to thunderbirds by busted #that’ll do #ok bye #lmao #WAIT #i googled just to make sure this was 100% true #why did she date #CHARLES FUCKING DANCE #he’s SO OLD #that’s insane #this has been riveting #now i’m actually done

[reelmegabyte]

ever wonder why spotify/discord/teams desktop apps kind of suck?

i don't do a lot of long form posts but. I realized that so many people aren't aware that a lot of the enshittification of using computers in the past decade or so has a lot to do with embedded webapps becoming so frequently used instead of creating native programs. and boy do i have some thoughts about this.

for those who are not blessed/cursed with computers knowledge Basically most (graphical) programs used to be native programs (ever since we started widely using a graphical interface instead of just a text-based terminal). these are apps that feel like when you open up the settings on your computer, and one of the factors that make windows and mac programs look different (bc they use a different design language!) this was the standard for a long long time - your emails were served to you in a special email application like thunderbird or outlook, your documents were processed in something like microsoft word (again. On your own computer!). same goes for calendars, calculators, spreadsheets, and a whole bunch more - crucially, your computer didn't depend on the internet to do basic things, but being connected to the web was very much an appreciated luxury!

that leads us to the eventual rise of webapps that we are all so painfully familiar with today - gmail dot com/outlook, google docs, google/microsoft calendar, and so on. as html/css/js technology grew beyond just displaying text images and such, it became clear that it could be a lot more convenient to just run programs on some server somewhere, and serve the front end on a web interface for anyone to use. this is really very convenient!!!! it Also means a huge concentration of power (notice how suddenly google is one company providing you the SERVICE) - you're renting instead of owning. which means google is your landlord - the services you use every day are first and foremost means of hitting the year over year profit quota. its a pretty sweet deal to have a free email account in exchange for ads! email accounts used to be paid (simply because the provider had to store your emails somewhere. which takes up storage space which is physical hard drives), but now the standard as of hotmail/yahoo/gmail is to just provide a free service and shove ads in as much as you need to.

webapps can do a lot of things, but they didn't immediately replace software like skype or code editors or music players - software that requires more heavy system interaction or snappy audio/visual responses. in 2013, the electron framework came out - a way of packaging up a bundle of html/css/js into a neat little crossplatform application that could be downloaded and run like any other native application. there were significant upsides to this - web developers could suddenly use their webapp skills to build desktop applications that ran on any computer as long as it could support chrome*! the first applications to be built on electron were the late code editor atom (rest in peace), but soon a whole lot of companies took note! some notable contemporary applications that use electron, or a similar webapp-embedded-in-a-little-chrome as a base are:

microsoft teams

notion

vscode

discord

spotify

anyone! who has paid even a little bit of attention to their computer - especially when using older/budget computers - know just how much having chrome open can slow down your computer (firefox as well to a lesser extent. because its just built better <3)

whenever you have one of these programs open on your computer, it's running in a one-tab chrome browser. there is a whole extra chrome open just to run your discord. if you have discord, spotify, and notion open all at once, along with chrome itself, that's four chromes. needless to say, this uses a LOT of resources to deliver applications that are often much less polished and less integrated with the rest of the operating system. it also means that if you have no internet connection, sometimes the apps straight up do not work, since much of them rely heavily on being connected to their servers, where the heavy lifting is done.

taking this idea to the very furthest is the concept of chromebooks - dinky little laptops that were created to only run a web browser and webapps - simply a vessel to access the google dot com mothership. they have gotten better at running offline android/linux applications, but often the $200 chromebooks that are bought in bulk have almost no processing power of their own - why would you even need it? you have everything you could possibly need in the warm embrace of google!

all in all the average person in the modern age, using computers in the mainstream way, owns very little of their means of computing.

i started this post as a rant about the electron/webapp framework because i think that it sucks and it displaces proper programs. and now ive swiveled into getting pissed off at software services which is in honestly the core issue. and i think things can be better!!!!!!!!!!! but to think about better computing culture one has to imagine living outside of capitalism.

i'm not the one to try to explain permacomputing specifically because there's already wonderful literature ^ but if anything here interested you, read this!!!!!!!!!! there is a beautiful world where computers live for decades and do less but do it well. and you just own it. come frolic with me Okay ? :]

*when i say chrome i technically mean chromium. but functionally it's same thing

#txt #long post #permacomputing #sustainability

[gumnut-logic]

Five pick up and one drop off (Pick up 5)

Pick up 1 | Pick up 2 | Pick up 3 | Pick up 4 | Pick up 5

This one took a bit of wrangling, but here it is.

Monique first appeared when Scott needed a little roadside assistance.

I hope you enjoy her second appearance :D

-o-o-o-

Monique was his pickup truck and he loved her.

She had been red a long time ago, but nowadays she was more brown and just old. He did keep her maintained and she was definitely road worthy. But she was old. And when you’re old, things sometimes broke down.

Which is why Virgil Tracy, billionaire, International Rescue operative, engineer, artist, musician and coffee fan was currently lying in the weeds on the roadside under the old girl.

There was grease in his hair.

It was his fault really. He had been so busy of late; he hadn’t had time to get out to the farm and service her. And since she was no longer driven regularly, well, he had hoped, but this was inevitable.

Sorry, Grandpa.

He sighed. He wasn’t going to be able to fix this out here in the middle of nowhere country Kansas, and consequently he was stranded.

Looking at the state of the bearings involved he was lucky he had made it out here without seizing something up and coming to a very sudden stop.

“Sorry, Monique baby, but you’re not going anywhere for a while.” He sighed and reached for the rag he knew he would be needing.

“Virgil?”

He jumped.

Unfortunately, being under the car with little or no clearance, he whacked his head on the gearbox.

“Ow! John, what the-?”

“Virgil, you okay?”

His brother’s voice came from his collar comms, of course. Johnny was not standing next to the car. Though, come to think of it, Johnny would be preferable to the brother he knew he was going to have to call.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Jus’hit my head. What do you need?” Please not a rescue. He was on leave and leaving Monique on the side of the road was just wrong.

And he was working out logistics on how to get Monique into Thunderbird Two fast enough not to slow them down. But then she would be in the way and could compromise a mission, and damnit, he really didn’t want to leave her on the side of the road!

“Just checking in. You’ve been stationary in the middle of nowhere for some time now and its not like Monique has a computer I can interface with for a tech report.”

“You mean hack. My Lamborghini has not felt right since you played in her processor.”

“I needed information! You looked like you were being attacked!”

“I was being kissed, John. Clean your lenses.”

“Over the hood of your car.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“TMI, Virgil.”

Virgil couldn’t help grinning. It wasn’t often he won a verbal spar with his space brother. “I am fine, John. No kissing happening here.”

The frustrated groan from orbit only made him grin more.

“So you don’t want me to notify Gordon that you need rescuing?”

The grin vanished and it was Virgil’s turn to groan. Okay, needling John was never a successful ploy. One day he would remember that his brother was a genius and had all the answers.

A sudden banging on the side of his truck startled him enough to hit his head again. What the-?

“You okay down there, mate?”

Uh? Virgil pushed himself out from under his truck and found himself squinting up at a guy about his Dad’s age.

“Broken down?”

“Uh, yeah.” He got his feet under himself and leaning on Monique, stood up.

There was a giant black pickup truck on the other side of the road, three times the size of Monique. A sticker with flickering flame towards the rear declared ‘Burning dinos’.

“Need a hand?” The guy had a grey beard and hair, bit of a belly, and tattoo down one tanned arm.

Virgil grabbed that rag and wiped his hands best he could. “No, she’s not going anywhere, I’m afraid. Thanks for stopping, though.”

“Not a prob. Just doing the neighbourly thing.” The man frowned. “Say, are you from around here?”

“Not quite-”

“You look familiar.” The man’s frown deepened.

Uh, oh.

“You been on the HoloV?”

“Uh-“

The man peered at his face, enough for Virgil to have to take a step back and collide with Monique.

“You look a lot like one of those rescue guys. You know, the ones who fly those planes that make all that noise.”

“Well, yeah I-“

But then the guy was laughing. “Sorry, you must get that a lot.”

“Sometimes.”

“It’s not like one of those billionaires would drive something like that, is it?”

And he was gesturing at Monique.

Virgil frowned. “Well-“

“After all, I earn enough and look at my girl. She’s got everything I can afford and still she needs more.”

A glance at the black monstrosity and there was definitely no need for more. He seriously doubted the vehicle had ever done a lick of work, or in some cases, could.

He could hear his father saying it now - ‘she ain’t pretty, but she’s practical’. Dad always was function over form. Monique may be old and worn, but she’d earnt every scratch and scrape, and she wore them proudly.

“So, you doin’ her up?”

“What?”

“Your truck. She a work in progress?”

“No, she just needs some repairs. My brother will pick me up soon.” He really should call Gordon, despite the ribbing involved.

“Sure you don’t want a lift?”

“Yeah, thanks anyway.” Was it rude to hope the man would leave?

Probably.

Unfortunately, either way, he didn’t.

“So, what is it? The money?

“Excuse me?”

“The reason why you drive a broken truck.”

“Uh-“

“Just imagine if we had the money. You could fix up it up, give it a new paint job.” He arched an eyebrow at Monique. “Or buy a new one.”

“I like my truck as she is.” Bar a busted bearing or two.

The guy eyed Virgil like he had a disease. “Why?”

“She’s an heirloom.”

“I can see that.” He took a step back as if to really look at Virgil’s truck. “Is that a backyard eco-conversion?” A look of pure horror crossed the guy’s face.

“Yeah.” Dad and Grandpa had done it together back in the 2030s. Grandpa didn’t want to take the truck off the road, so the gas engine got the boot and Dad had helped him install the eco-conversion.

“You do realise an eco can’t compare to a traditional gasoline engine? My girl has six hundred horsepower under her hood. She works hard and plays hard. She can pull 15,000 pounds and not break a sweat.”

Virgil folded his arms. “Impressive.” Except for the whole burning hydrocarbons issue, deal breaker that it was. He wasn’t going to mention Monique’s specs, she was after all, more than she looked.

Besides, he could hear the sound of his girl in the distance. She could pull a lot of things.

Thunderbird Two shot into a low hover above Monique, tossing hair and grass alike, her roar all encompassing. “Hey, Virg, Johnny said you needed a lift?” Gordon’s voice bounced around as big truck guy’s jaw dropped.

“Thanks, Gordon.” Virgil turned to his companion and held out a hand. “Thanks again for stopping.”

The man’s hand was offered absently as he stared up at Virgil’s girl.

“You might want to stand back.”

He vaguely nodded and backed his way across the road to his truck.

“Gordon, grapples will do the job. It’s not far.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and, pulling open Monique’s driver side door, climbed in and put on his seat belt.

The clunk of four magnetic grapples, a gentle tug, and Monique left the ground.

Virgil couldn’t help but look down at the man staring up at Virgil’s girl.

Was it wrong to enjoy the shock on the man’s face?

Probably.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #nuttyfic #this one fought me #Gordy didn't get the yellow motorbike I promised him #maybe next time

[smurphyse]

Lead Paint & Salt Air | Spencer Reid

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 of Routine Maintenance

Warnings: mentions of Diana's death (not explicit), mini-PTSD flashback for Spencer, Spencer's horny and lonely, also cranky.

Summary: After two years on the road, Spencer breaks down in Thunderbird, California. In only a few hours he meets some of the most eclectic townspeople of his life when all he wants is some peace and quiet.

(Note: Because of the nature of this fic, being inspired by one of my favorite bands, the chapters will be a bit longer than usual to fit with the vibe of the song they're named after <3)

After he was released from Milburn, Spencer’s mother passed in her sleep. It was blessedly quick and painless for her, and though it tore him apart he was grateful at least for that. Finally, Spencer had nothing pressing tying him to D.C., and he followed Gideon’s lead so many years later. Buying a Jeep and taking to the road, Spencer lived out of a suitcase as he’d done for years.

Instead of searching for serial killers, he began a long search for himself.

For two years now, he’d asked miles of pavement and yellow dashed paint who he was. He questioned the night sky and the morning sun over countless towns and cities. He’d even asked the mountaintops and hillsides, and yet he had found no answer.

Spencer started drinking again. It seemed the thing to do in shitty motel rooms and dive bars, putting on a few pounds with each greasy dish that accompanied his bourbon. The bags under his eyes were no longer from a lack of sleep - though he still didn’t get much because of the nightmares - but instead they stained his skin from the exhaustion of that ever-present question in his mind.

Is this who I am now?

Am I broken? Am I beyond salvation? Am I as worthless and lonely as I feel every single fucking day? 

It all started when he tried to strangle a pregnant Cat Adams in an interrogation room. He slid down the cold concrete wall in a prison too much like the one he’d been released from when it first erupted through his brain like a bullet. One question led to another… and another and another, but they always started with that one.

Is this who I am now?

At this point, he was sure he’d never find the answer. Instead, he’d contented himself with wandering, exploring all that America currently had to offer. One day he’d move internationally, maybe go back to Paris where he’d spent time with his mother.

He’d happened upon Thunderbird, California early that morning. Worried he was lost forever in the Cali wilderness, Spencer followed the rising sun through winding forest roads as it streamed through the trees. After a few hours cautiously eyeing the offshutes of paths and trails, he finally burst into civilization. 

It was a tiny beach town. A handful of buildings littered the main street, string lights connecting them along with the wind-blown piles of sand scattering along the road. Houses haphazardly were plopped along the varying hills that hid it from the outside world, but it was beautiful.

The shops on the main strip were brightly painted, handmade signs reading Billy’s Bait and Go!, Sue Says Sew, and Gil’s Grocery proudly proclaiming strangely named stores that gave little question for what they did to service the town. Spencer had yet to spot a normal chair on the porches outside- they were all either beach chairs or porch swings swaying in the light breeze. 

Sunday was the Fourth of July, and the town was in full patriotic mode. Red, white, and blue windmills and flags sprung up from nearly every lawn. A fireworks stand was smack dab in the middle of a roundabout in the center of town, with a few people hurrying across the curved road to it. A man in an oversized Uncle Sam hat handed out sparklers to the kids, smiling wider than the sun.

Spencer spent the morning in the town diner, Bean There, looking out the large window as the small town came to life. It was apparently known for its local coffee. Spencer had to admit it was good, on the top ten list he’d tried in his travels. Though the best coffee had been found in a China Town shop in lower Indiana, which he was loath to admit. 

He sat in a booth in the corner, people watching as the crowds picked up and petered out. All sorts of people filtered through the door as they used the diner as a waystation before heading out to the rest of their days. In a town of less than five hundred, any outsider was noticed immediately, and Spencer was no different. Nearly every person who came in eyeballed his Jeep on the way through the door and squinted at Spencer before ordering. He didn’t mind, he was used to being the outsider, had been his whole life. 

He picked at a plate of waffles and bacon, holding a book loosely in one hand as he enjoyed the morning sunlight through the window. His waitress, Michelle, had given him a side-eye after his first hour, unsure what to make of him. He simply tipped her early, going with a twenty-five percent tip of what he’d already ordered. She was much more amenable after that, mostly leaving him alone but checking in periodically with a smile and a refill. 

His hair was still long. He had refused to cut it, even after JJ's insistence over video chats. He liked it, especially liked these new trends of men finally getting to put their hair in a bun. He liked the look, and had been enamored with the Nordic styles he read of in his youth, braiding and intricate knots decorated with silver and beads. He missed those days in Earth’s history.

He wore a pair of jeans and a purple flannel shirt with his boots. Though he often preferred suits, this style had appealed to him greatly in his early days on the road. He’d been called a “hipster” more times than he cared to admit, but he felt strong in his fashion choices. He knew he looked good, and Spencer had long since gotten used to the beard. Shaving on the road was hard and without the dress code constrictions of the BAU, he was happy to grow it out.

“Hey, Honey!” Michelle chuckled from behind the counter as the front door swung open. It chimed in greeting as two people stepped through and into the cool air-conditioned building. Spencer tried not to stare at the woman, but he’d spent a good long time on the road and it had been a while… and she was gorgeous.

Her hair poofed around her shoulders, eyes alight with an animated excitement. Copper toned muscles peeked out of a tank top and tight jeans, a red flannel tied around her hips as she sauntered into the diner. She had her arm looped around an older man’s waist, who hugged her tightly back before letting go as they approached the counter.

He had a clearly visible Ranger tattoo on his bicep, both of which were bigger than Spencer’s head. With his slicked back salt and pepper curls and giant frame, Spencer knew he wanted nothing to do with being on that man’s bad side.

“Mornin’, Chelle,” she smiled, easing into the stool across from the waitress. The man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, looking curiously around the diner as many patrons had that morning. His gaze landed on Spencer, who quickly glanced out the window to avoid his hard stare. "How's it going?"

“Oh, you know how it goes- a flirt here, a proposal there,” Michelle jokingly lamented as she pulled two mugs out from under the bar. She snagged the carafe from the coffee maker and filled them before sliding them across the counter.

“Oof,” the man chuckled heartily, finally tearing his dark eyes from Spencer and to her. “Sounds exhausting.”

“You joke all you want, Rose Delgado,” Michelle scolded, her playful smirk turning to a hard glare. She pointed at him, “I am a catch and everyone here knows it.”

Rose held up his hands in defeat, “My bad, Chelle. You’re absolutely right. If I were a few years younger I’d try for your hand too.”

“Who says you can’t?” she quipped with a wink, and Rose went bright red.

He dragged an awkward hand across the back of his neck and laughed, "Huh, well, I think Mattie May might have a problem with that."

The women laughed along with him, and Michelle tapped the counter lightly with her fingers, "I'll put your usual in. Extra powdered sugar, right, Honey?"

The girl referred to now forever in Spencer's brain as Honey nodded, licking her lips. "It's gonna be a long day, Chelle. Give me as much coke as you got."

Rose smacked the top of her head in jest, and Honey looked up to stick her tongue out at him. She glanced over at Spencer as he slid out of the booth, and even as he made his way over to the counter to pay she never averted her gaze. A gold ring was tied to a string necklace around her neck, and it was all Spencer had not to follow it to where the pendant rested between her boobs.

"You drive that Jeep outside?" Rose grumbled as he approached. Michelle came back up to the counter as Spencer tugged his wallet out of his pocket. 

He handed her more than enough for his meal and another tip, then nodded, "Yeah, that's mine."

"Your axle is about to crack. You should get it looked at."

"I'll do that," Spencer replied politely. He was used to strangers telling him things he didn't really need to do by now. They often took one look at him and deemed him an academic, which wasn't wrong, but to them it usually meant he couldn't take care of things himself. 

"Here's your change, baby," Michelle interrupted, reaching across the counter with a ten in one hand and a to-go cup of joe in the other. Rose stared at him, as did Honey, but Spencer just shook his head at the waitress. 

"Keep it. Thanks for letting me keep your booth for a few hours."

He swept up the cup, gave her a nod and turned on his heel out the door. She laughed to herself and shouted after him, "Come back soon!

"Boy tips real good," he heard her just before the door closed behind him. "He can live in that booth if he wants."

Spencer smiled to himself as he hopped in the jeep. This was a nice town, but he'd been through a lot of nice towns. He had to keep moving, searching, coming up with a reason for leaving his friends behind to worry about him. 

He decided to see the beach before going back through the trees. He wanted to see Oregon, but his phone didn't work so well in these isolated parts of the state so he'd have to buy a map somewhere. He made note of the lone gas station in town, then followed the signs to the sand.

It was early, but there were people in the water. Spencer wasn't much for swimming, so he parked his jeep in the small lot and pulled a blanket out of the back. He found a secluded spot on a hill, unfurled the blanket and sat down. He took off his flannel and shoes, leaning back to enjoy the view. 

The sounds of shrieking laughter and the waves lulled him into complacency as he sipped his coffee. The sun was hot, but not too bad for this early in the morning. Unlike DC, this area wasn't humid, and the soft winds off the water cooled his skin.

Is this who I am now? Popped into his mind, always at the worst times. Once upon a time, he was a strong and capable man, an elite FBI agent always willing to go the extra mile. Now, even sitting here exhausted him. Speaking to the townsfolk at the counter exhausted him, and all he wanted to do was have a drink and go to sleep.

Is this who I am now? He wondered. Am I the guy who has nowhere to go and nowhere to be except the road, running far away from my past and the pain that follows?

He supposed so. Being out here hurt less than sitting in his empty apartment, looking into the void of his missing heart and wondering just when exactly his life passed him by. He always thought he’d have a family, kids and a wife by now. He thought he’d have a house and people to depend on him, that he’d love and they’d never wonder if it was out of obligation or a bond from trauma like it had been with the BAU.

Sure, they called him every week or so, just to see if he was okay. Their voices were always laced with concern, but a dripping tiredness of having to worry about the kid. Spencer hadn’t been a kid in a long time, and with each new trauma their babying of him became just another weight added to his shoulders. Another reason to prove himself.

It never worked.

Deciding it was time to go, time to run away again, Spencer dragged himself away from the beach and its false allure of peacefulness. He rolled up the blanket and put it back in its usual spot in the back of the jeep, put his coffee in the cupholder and he was off again.

Coming up the bend from the beach, he spotted a pothole one second too late. The back wheel slammed into it with a loud crunch, and before he knew it the back of the jeep collapsed into the sand-dusted street. 

“Oh, goddamnit,” he grunted, punching the passenger seat in irritation. 

Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket, and sure enough he had zero reception. He groaned and let his head fall back on the headrest, his eyes shutting. Sucking in a deep breath, Spencer counted to five before letting it go. 

“Yer axle’s cracked!” a voice came from the side, and when Spencer opened his eyes he spotted a beat up truck next to him on the road. It had cans dangling from the sides on old fishing line and other random trash piled up in the back, a boat hitched to the back of it.

An old grizzled man leaned heavily out the window, pointing at the back of the jeep and nodding, “Yep, y’ain’t goin’ nowhere, son.”

“Yeah,” Spencer snapped, furrowing his brows at him. “I noticed.” 

“Ain’t no need to take a tone with me, boy,” the man grumbled. He pointed a gnarled finger at Spencer that shook in the air. “I’mma help you.”

Spencer didn’t have a lot of faith that his twisted tree limb of a man was going to be much help to him, so he waved his cell phone at him. “I’m sorry. Can I borrow your phone so I can call a tow truck?”

The man frowned with an exaggerated bottom lip and shook his head animatedly, “I ain’t got one of them things! Ya think I want brain cancer or somethin’?”

“Uhm… no?” Spencer began, but he cut him off with a beckoning hand.

“No. I don’t,” the man nodded firmly. “C’mon, I’ll take ya up to Rose’s place.”

Spencer groaned internally at the name he’d heard this morning. It was the same squinting old man who told him the axle was about to crack in the first place. Then he brightened up at the thought of getting to see Honey and her tight tank top again.

“I ain’t got all day, son. I’m busy, y’see,” the man called, breaking through his thoughts. Spencer nodded to himself and turned off the jeep before getting out and snagging his suitcase from the back seat. 

He rounded the truck only to open the creaky door and find almost an entire carton of cigarette packs littering the floorboards, along with a variety of loose tools and nails. Spencer climbed into the cab and closed the door behind him, setting the suitcase on his lap. It was a travel size, just big enough for a week’s worth of clothes and shoes. He kept his toiletries in another bag in the back of his car.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said softly. “Sorry for snapping. It’s been a bit of a day for me.”

The man chuckled, a little choked huffing sound from deep in his throat. “It’s been a bit of a day for everyone, son. It’s only nine in the mornin’!”

Deciding it was better to scoff in his mind and not at this weird stranger driving him through town, Spencer nodded. The brightly colored shops passed them by as the man drove at a snail’s pace, stopping for the allotted three seconds at each stop sign and never using his blinker.

“Name’s Nell, by the by,” the old man declared suddenly, jerking Spencer out of his reverie of the town. “Not that you asked. What’s yer story, son?”

“Uh, I’m Spencer,” he said slowly. Awkwardly. “I’m just traveling.”

“That’s a sheht story. No pizzazz, no flare. Ain’t you got stories where yer from?”

How do you like dead mutilated bodies? He wondered. Spencer laughed quietly and made sure to stare straight ahead. Nell’s eyes flicked quickly to his each time he looked over, and the truck veered with them. 

“I’m not much of a storyteller, Nell.”

“Shame,” Nell muttered, his top lip twitching as he seemed to think very hard about that. “Puppy dog eyes like that, you could get a peach and a half to follow you home if you could string a good yarn.”

Spencer struggled to follow that metaphor, so he just gave a noncommittal hum. The thought of a man who looked like Nell referring to a woman as a ‘peach’ left a bad taste in his mouth. 

"You ever been this way up before?"

"Nope. Just passing through on my way to Oregon."

"Ah, sheht," Nell grumbled. He slapped the steering wheel and pointed at nothing. "Oregon ain't got nothin' on Thundabird! I came here after 'Nam and never looked back!"

Spencer thanked God that Rossi didn't talk like this, not that fighting in Vietnam caused mushmouth, but he was getting irritated. 

"Lotsa people round here just showed up. Never left. It's a town of strays, y’know? Might find somethin' purty and never wanna leave like I did."

"Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, not really paying much attention. He gazed longingly out the window and decided he could have walked faster than Nell drove. 

"Met my Bernie and never could leave. She’s purtier than a seagull at sunset, I swear it.”

“You have any kids?”

“Nah, she’s small. Not much more’n me can fit in there most of the time.”

Spencer made a face and turned to him, disgusted, “What?”

Nell leaned forward and rubbed a hand across the dash of his nasty truck, “She’s small, but she’s a beaut! All I ever needed.”

Thankfully, they finally made their way up to the diner. Delgado’s lay catty corner to it, right next to a small inn called The Thunderbird Inn. Spencer got the hell out of Bernie as fast as he could and waved a hand to Nell. “Thanks for the ride, Nell. It’s been a trip.”

“Anytime, son!” Nell chuckled manically, and it was all Spencer had not to grimace. He pulled out of the small driveway slower than molasses, almost hit a stop sign, then rumbled down the street. 

Spencer took a steadying breath and shook his head before going into the mechanic's shop. A small reception area stood in the front, the smell of grease and exhaust puffing in from the door leading through the garage. There was a window in front of a desk where a small woman sat in a headscarf. She wore a brightly colored floral shirt, her braids piled high above her head as she gave him a small wave. 

"How ya doing, baby?" she asked with an easy grin. The tension in Spencer's shoulders from talking to Nell eased in just one look at that smile. There was also something about an older black lady calling him ‘baby’ in a soft voice that made him feel better for some reason.

"Uhm, my car broke down," Spencer said, pointing behind him. 

She nodded, "I'm Mattie May. Rose told me you might be making your way here."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Spencer snarked, rolling his eyes. 

"Don't take it personal," Mattie May hushed. She stood and rounded the corner, then waved for him to follow. "Man's got a sixth sense about cars. In fact, I first met him when I broke down on the side of the road outside of town."

Spencer followed Mattie May behind the counter and into a small kitchen area. He eyeballed the fridge as she puttered around. Pictures of Rose, Mattie May, and Honey littered the front. Some had group photos with a few of the eclectic townsfolk he'd run into already, others with people he didn't know. 

"He asked me to dinner before fixing my car. I fell head over heels and never looked back. Moved here a few months later." She pulled out a fresh pot of coffee and poured him some in a brightly colored mug with flowers on it, then one for herself. "You take sugar, baby?"

"Lots of it," he muttered, leaning down to look at more of the photographs. "This town's like the Bermuda triangle, huh?"

"For lost souls… yeah, I guess it is," she said softly. Her skin glimmered under the fluorescent lighting, dark and beautiful against the bright purples and pinks of her shirt and beaming smile. "You lost?"

Spencer stood up sharply, suddenly rocked with defensiveness. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "How long do you think the repairs will take?"

Mattie May clicked her teeth and sighed, then handed him the mug. "Rose will have to tell you that. If he doesn't have the parts you can stay at the inn. I'll have Honey make you up a room."

Spencer took a sip. It was fantastic, obviously from the same beans the diner used. "Is she your daughter? I saw her with Rose at the diner."

"We've definitely taken to her like she is. Another stray that showed up a while back and never wanted to leave."

"Do people who come here ever leave?" he snarked, flashing her a look. 

"People land where they need to. Sometimes that's here."

"I'd like to get the hell out of here as fast as possible. No offense."

Mattie May smirked at him and leaned against the counter, "None taken."

"Axle cracked, huh?" a familiar deep voice came from behind them. Spencer looked to find Rose leaning over the front counter and watching him expectantly. 

"Right in half."

"Hmmm," he grunted, nodding to himself. "I'll send out Rico."

"The man's got somewhere to be, Rose," Mattie May said, waving her cup at her husband. "How long will it take to repair?"

Rose pushed himself off the counter with a sigh. He ran a hand over his face as he ambled slowly into the small kitchen, then shrugged. "I don't have that model in stock as nobody in town drives it. Could take a month for the parts to come in."

"A month?" Spencer asked sharply. He set the cup down harder on the counter than he meant to, and it hit with a clatter. "I can't sit around here for a month."

“Or more.” Rose shrugged, "UPS only comes through here once a month by boat. It's too hard to get through the mountains."

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" Mattie May asked softly. She set a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave him a soft squeeze. "If you gotta be somewhere soon, I'm sure we can find you a ride."

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck roughly in irritation. "Nowhere. I just don't like sitting in one place too long."

"You some sorta drifter?" Rose asked, eyeing him with a hard glare. Spencer was sure he looked the part with his old flannel, messy hair, beard and battered boots, but he didn’t like the thought after his previous line of work. 

Spencer glared right back, his jaw set tightly. Mattie May blew out a breath and gave him another squeeze before letting her hand fall from his shoulder. “It might do you good to sit still for a while, then. C’mon, baby, I’ll take you over to Honey and we’ll get you a room.”

Mattie May steered him around Rose and out the front door. A loud boom! Made him jerk away from her and flinch from the sound. A few errant pop pop pops followed, and when he heard her soft laughter he looked up to see kids lighting fireworks in the street.

His vision dragged, his blood pounded in his ears as he tried to convince himself he was fine. He wasn’t being blown up, and he wasn’t at Everett Lynch’s home. Mattie May’s voice ripped him sharply to the present as she called to them.

“Y’all go somewhere else and do that! People are tryin’ to work!”

Their shoulders deflated and they nodded, “Yes, Mrs. Delgado!”

She shook her head and chuckled, turning back to Spencer. He stared at the charred spot on the pavement where the firecrackers had erupted, chest heaving as the acrid scent of burnt embers flooded his nose.

“You okay, baby?”

Spencer found himself turning toward her kind voice, his eyes wet and suddenly more tired than he’d been in months. “Yeah. I’m… I’m not a big fan of the fourth of July.”

“The firecrackers?” she asked. He nodded. “Did you serve?”

“Uh, no ma’am.” He didn’t want to tell her anything about the FBI. Since leaving, Spencer hadn’t told anyone that he used to be an agent. What he’d become was too shameful.

“Holly Henson isn’t much for it either since he came back from Iraq, neither is Rose. I bought them some noise canceling headphones for this time of year. I have an extra pair.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

She led him into the front of The Thunderbird Inn, where Honey sat behind the reception desk with a young man Spencer hadn't met yet. He was tall and about her age, near thirty, leaning over the counter and smirking at her. His easy going grin and good looks reminded him of Luke, as did his dark closely cropped hair.

"I'm serious, Honey. It'll be fun."

Honey lounged in a roller chair and crossed her hands behind her head, "I'm not going to the bar on the fourth. I'll end up having Lionel and Ritchie pawing all over me and looking down my shirt."

The man peeked a little further over and grinned, "I'd tell you to wear a different shirt, but I can't exactly blame them for trying to sneak a peek."

Honey sat up sharply and slapped at him, and he jumped back with a mad laugh. She looked over his shoulder and her eyes brightened as she saw Spencer. "Axle cracked, huh, big tipper?"

Spencer squinted at her and nodded. Mattie May laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, "He needs a room for the night, Honey. Rico, Rose is lookin' for you. You gotta go tow this young man's car."

She turned to him, "I never caught your name."

"Spencer. Spencer Reid."

Rico eyed him the way Rose and every other person in this town seemed to, "Your axle cracked?"

Spencer sighed in pure exasperation. “Yes.”

Rico glanced back at Honey, who shrugged and made a face. He made his way toward the door, watching Spencer. His shoulder bumped Spencer's as he passed and then he was gone, Mattie May following closely behind. 

"I got Room 4 open, Mr. Reid," Honey said playfully as Spencer glared out the door where Rico went. He looked up to see her dangling an ancient key attached to a little green tag with the inn name on it. "Follow me."

Spencer followed her and her tight jeans down a hallway to the left. The inn was a big square, two levels, with only a handful of rooms on the first floor. Honey took him to the center where the rooms met in the middle of the curved hallway. A door across from his had a sign on it that read Management on the front in faded gilded lettering and a doorbell on the side. 

"Dinner’s at six. I'll bring you a plate," she said absentmindedly as she fiddled with the door. She clasped the handle and tugged up as she turned the lock. "Door sticks, and there's a patio out back where we usually have a bonfire this time of year. If it's too loud, let me know."

The door opened with a crack, and she pushed it open for him to step inside. The room was small and airy, wide broad windows that had a view of the far off ocean and palm trees. Spencer spotted boats and people in the water as he stepped up to them to look out. The tulle cottony curtains swayed with the breeze through the cracked door, and without much thought Spencer shut and locked it.

The bedspread was a bright sky blue with matching pillows. The walls were painted off-white, with pictures of the beach and the town plastered all over, much like Mattie May’s fridge and the reception areas of both businesses. Spencer dug into his pocket as he looked around with hardly disguised disdain and pulled out his wallet. He handed his credit card to Honey, but she just stared at him.

“Don’t you need this?” 

“First night’s on Lionel. He was supposed to fix that pothole weeks ago.”

Spencer squinted at her, “How do you know I hit a pothole?”

She smiled, wide and bright. “Saw you drive toward the beach. Townspeople know to avoid it.”

“Good to know,” he grumbled, stuffing his card back into his wallet. “Is there a phone I can use?”

“Mmm, most people here don’t have cell phones. Providers don’t get great service around here, but there’s a landline on the nightstand.”

Spencer nodded, looking to where she pointed. “Internet?”

Honey laughed, but when she saw him watching her sternly she stopped. “Oh, you’re serious. There’s Collie’s Cafe down the street. It’s dial-up but it’ll get you what you need for a dime every ten minutes.”

“God this place really is the Bermuda Triangle,” he groaned, rubbing his face roughly with his hands. “Does everyone have a weird name here?”

Honey put her hands on her hips and made a face, “Who’s got a weird name?”

Spencer just glared.

Honey broke out into a creeping slow smile and nodded to herself. “You’re not a lot of fun, are you, Mr. Reid?”

“You can call me Spencer.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. She tapped her jaw and watched him, “This is a nickname kinda town. You stay here long enough and you’ll get one too.”

“I hope to God that doesn’t happen,” he said irritably. “If Honey’s not your real name, do you mind if I ask what it is?” “Y/N,” she replied with a grin. “Call me that and we’ll have a problem.”

“I don’t want any problems, Honey,” Spencer snarked back. “I just want to leave Margaritaville and go to Oregon.”

Honey bit her lip and smiled before turning on her heel and walking toward the door. She lingered for a moment with her hand on the knob, obviously chewing on something in her mind. Sucking in a breath, she glanced his way once more and said in a soft voice, “Maybe your problem is that you can’t enjoy where you’re at, Spencer. Maybe you should take a breather.”

Before he could angrily reply, she closed the door behind her. It didn’t fit in the frame well, and he heard her little grunt as she pulled up on the knob to latch it shut. Shaking his head and letting out a pained breath, Spencer hoisted his suitcase up and tossed it on the bed, grateful to be alone again. He plopped down next to it, elbows on his knees as he looked around, and that question popped into his head again.

Is this who I am now?

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Notes: PLEASE tell me what you think... this series is so close to my heart. What do you think of the townspeople we've met so far? Reader/Honey? Sad!Spencer??

CM Forever Tag:

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult @muffin-cup @simplyparker @spencerreidsmommy @hotchandspencearedilfs @gspenc @kbakery @nomajdetective @givemeth @hoshihiime @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidselle @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid @dreatine @thebloomingeagle @fortheloveofwonderland @theforgottenwinter @parkerreidnorth @reidselle @randomhoex @scargarcia-magshotchner @stitchwrites @pygmygoat-bicyclehelmet @cle13 @aysixdy @elhotchner @directioner5life @elhotchner @loveeee2134 @preciousbabypeter @la-stuffs @stories-you-wont-hear @hotchlover @fortheloveofwonderland @lokiandhisdagger @bellanutellababyyy @dark-night-sky-99 @straightforbuckybutgayfornatasha @maltamurdock @charelletjee @kansas-reid @zephyrmonkey @spencer-reid-wonderland @spencersprettyslut @im-sure-its-fine @tvdstelenaforever @teddylupintonks  @lilibet261 @kneelforloki @dirtytissuebox @almostgenerallyalways @whovian378 @cl0udyqu33n @thegettingbyp2 @averagestudent03 @the-sun-died-out @squishycalumxo @sebastiansstanswhore 

@louderfortheback @pandabiiissh @calebye

@dottirose @lfaewrites @padsfirewhisky @wheels-upin-thirty @f-me-reid

#routine maintenance #inn keeper reader #spencer reid #smurphyse #smurph writes #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #cm fandom #mgg #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/y/n #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #fic: routine maintenance #Spotify

[skymaiden32]

Negotiations

Read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Thundertober Day 3: Armour

Alan thinks they may have gone a little too far with the armour on his uniform.

Continuity: TAG

------

“Are you sure I need all of this…?” Alan asked, still a little uncertain as he waddled out of the fitting room. 

“Yes.” His four older brothers and grandmother in front of him chorused, causing Alan to grumble. 

He huffed. “I can barely move in this thing.” He was only vaguely able to gesture at the full body armour currently situated over his uniform. “And it’s really heavy…”

Scott grinned. “Good. That means it’ll work.” 

“Yep.” Virgil nodded. “Some of Brains’ finest work, if I do say so!”

“Plus,” John cut in. “Everything feels lighter in space anyway. It’s perfect for Thunderbird 3 missions.”

Alan sighed. “That still doesn’t mean it’s good for missions on Earth, Johnny…”

“Sure it does.” The older astronaut argued. “You’ll be on Thunderbird 2’s support crew; you need heavy duty stuff for that.” As an afterthought, he muttered, “And don’t call me Johnny.”

Gordon nodded in agreement. “When I tell you about all the scrapes and bruises me and Virg have gotten just for handling some of that equipment…”

“Yeah!” Alan tried to protest. “But you guys weren’t given full body armour to wear!” At that moment, Kayo walked into the room. The Tracy’s watched as their adoptive sister took one look at Alan, and immediately had to stifle a giggle. Alan frowned. “See? She thinks it’s too much. Hell, Brains probably thinks it’s too much! You guys are being way too overprotective…”

“And is there anything wrong with that young man?” Grandma Tracy interrupted. “Your brothers and I just want to make sure you’re safe…”

“I know but…” Alan sighed. “Maybe we can compromise on it? I don’t need this much armour.”

“Alright kiddo,” Scott took charge of negotiations. “What do you wanna get rid of?”

Alan smiled innocently. “Is everything an option?”

Scott deadpanned. “No.”

“Eh. It was worth a shot.” The teen shrugged. “I’ll wear the shoulder pieces. Honestly, I think they make me look cool.” He admitted.

His older brother hummed. “Wear the chestplate too and we’ll call it even.” He held his hand out. “So, Mr Tracy, do we have a deal?”

Alan was quiet for a good few minutes. On one hand, he could try to get just a bit more out of this. On the other hand, Scott was serious about this. All of them were. And when someone in his family was serious, it meant they weren’t messing around. Scott wouldn’t budge. He never did when it came to safety. Alan smirked, reaching his hand out to accept Scott’s. “We do indeed…” The teen winked. “Mr Tracy…”

Scott rolled his eyes as he let go of Alan’s hand, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. He was glad Alan had agreed to at least part of the armour, because if anything happened to him, he'd never forgive himself for not convincing him to wear more of it…

#thunderfam #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #alan tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #grandma tracy #kayo kyrano #thundertober #thundertober 2023 #sky writes stuff

[tagsecretsanta]

From @mariashades

From @mariashades to @the-original-sineater

Someone Familiar 

Prompts- 

1. A familiar looking stranger.

2. A mistake at the zoo.

3. SCIENCE!!

Preferences: Rating Teen or Gen

Favorite Genres: Hurt/Comfort, Angst (happy ending please), Family, Fluff, Romance okay, Shipping is okay

Please, NO: Parody or crackfic, Brandon Berringer is NOT welcome

Someone Familiar 

“If I let go, I'm almost certain he'll take off without the aid of a Thunderbird,” was Penny's fondly amused thought as she and Gordon endured the usual crowd of photographers and news crews who had gotten wind of their invitation to the opening of the new rehabilitation facility at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. After getting the forwarded invitation in her email inbox (it had been titled ‘Penny!!!!! Penny!Penny!Penny! Loooooookkkkk!!!!) she had been worried the inevitable paparazzi might dampen his enthusiasm, but she clearly had nothing to worry about. 

There were more waiting inside, but they’d been invited after careful screening, this pack outside hadn't been, so there wasn't any real obligation to give them any attention. 

They did of course - like it or not, she and Gordon were a power couple like no other - and throwing a few smiles and waves to the press kept them on side.

At last they were through the swarm, shepherded by Parker, Kayo and her security team, and into the aquarium proper. Holding his arm as she was, Penny could feel his excitement increase as the director, Doctor Jo Crawford, came forward to meet them and she was so very pleased by it. 

“Mister Tracy, Lady Penelope, thank you again for coming to the opening of our new rehabilitation facility,” Doctor Crawford smiled as she offered her hand. 

“Thanks for inviting us, Doctor Crawford!” Gordon chirped back. “Call me Gordon, ‘mister’ is for my biggest brother,” he grinned. “Oh! Have you seen that new paper about leafy sea dragon skin?” 

It seemed safe enough to let go so she did, leaving the two marine biologists to talk while she mixed with the other guests: representatives for several wildlife rescue organisations and advocates and two nature show presenters who had their own film crews with them. 

A quick, unobtrusive exchange with Parker confirmed that everyone present were whom they said they were, and she relaxed enough to have a little chat with the local news reporter (who somehow hadn't been pulled and replaced by a higher ranking one when word got out about herself and Gordon attending). “I'll be kind,” she decided as she talked to the jittery journalist, “he's so overawed and trying so hard to hide it.” 

At last the mix and mingle time was over and Doctor Crawford was herding them all into the new wing. Penelope was very impressed by it all. She’d done some research in preparation for this trip (that wasn't Gordon doing an excited info-dump as he waxed lyrical about this and that) and the facilities at the new wing were top notch. Different tanks for different sized creatures, a range of hoists and slings for manoeuvring the bigger or more awkwardly-shaped ones, modular treatment platforms in the medical centre, a food preparation area that a Michelin chef would have been proud of, and a state of the art decontamination area with a truck-based mobile wildlife decontamination facility- ‘We call it our Thunderbird Two’ Doctor Crawford had grinned as she said that, pointing to a little decal on the driver's door of Two's silhouette, painted in the appropriate shade of green. 

“Sadly not all of our patients can go back into the wild,” Doctor Crawford said as they came around through to the attached education area, which had several large tanks and habitats backing onto it. “So they come here to be animal ambassadors and help us educate the next generation on the importance of caring for our marine environment.” 

A metre-long green sea turtle fitted with prosthetic front flippers and a shell that'd clearly been glued back together chose this moment to nose up to the open-topped perspex tank and peer out at them. 

“Ah, perfect timing, here's our newest ambassador now!” Doctor Crawford exclaimed and beckoned them over. “Gordon, would you like to come over and say hi? I'm not sure if you recognise her, but you saved her about six months ago.” 

“At the plane crash in Costa Rica?” Gordon asked, his eyes wide. 

Penny remembered that one, it'd been bad. A cargo plane carrying dangerous goods had gotten into difficulties and crash landed on a remote beach, spilling its load in the process and killing or injuring a good many sunbathing green sea turtles, as well as endangering the coral reef. Gordon had hauled several of the surviving turtles into Two's module while John had made a bevy of phone calls to figure out what on earth they could do to help with the equipment they had to hand until the experts arrived.

“I remember her! I didn't think she'd make it!” Gordon went on to say, looking between the turtle and the director, clearly wanting to reach into the tank and give the turtle a pet. 

“She almost didn't, but the local wildlife rescue had heard about the new facility here and we arranged to transfer her here.” Doctor Crawford explained. 

“What is her name?” Penelope asked, coming closer to get a better look at the turtle. 

“Well, it was quite a hot debate here at the aquarium, but Thunderbird Five contacted us with a suggestion,” Doctor Crawford smiled. “Gordon Tracy, I'd like to introduce you to Lucille.” 

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction

[haveyouseenthis-childhoodshow]

Have you seen this childhood show: Octonauts (2010-Present), United Kingdom and Ireland (English, was dubbed in many other languages)

Commentary/Context/Memories:

First user commentary: I loved this show as a kid, both me and my best friends neurodiversity latched onto it as young kids and we aren’t as obsessed about it now, but is still one of the kid shows that we will gladly watch with our younger siblings. gotta love shows that are a bit more subtle educational shows. i still remember so many facts lmao

Second user commentary: Shout out to this show for getting me interested in vehicle design! I mean- LOOK at the OCTOPOD. That was the coolest thing I ever saw as a child and it’s still the coolest thing I’ve seen today.

This show was submitted twice!

[Mod A: According to the wikipedia, this show is like a kids version of Star Trek or the Thunderbirds (in terms of the exploration and educational factor), which is pretty cool! It was about an underwater crew made of eight members (all with their own special skill sets) who use fictional high tech machines to explore the ocean. While the machines and the Octopod (their home base) is fictional (so far), the actual environments they explore (like the Great Barrier Reef) and the animals they meet (like the whale shark) are very real! The cast comprises of Barnacles (Polar Bear, Captain), Kwazii (Cat, Lieutenant/Cryptozoologist), Peso (Penguin, Medic), Prof. Inkling (Dumbo Ocotpus, Founder/Oceanographer), Dr. Shellington (Sea Otter, Biologist), Tweak (Rabbit, Engineer), Dashi (Dachshund, Computer Programmer/Photographer) and Tunip (Vegimal, Chef). I was heavy into marine biology (as well as Astronomy) as a kid, so if this show came out earlier, I would’ve been really into it, particularly since it was quite educational and provided interesting facts about the ocean and the animals that live there. Dr. Shellington (the sea otter) probably would’ve been my favourite, bc that’s my favourite marine animal <3]

#polls #nostalgia #childhood shows #british tv #irish tv #2010s #2020s #tv shows #cartoons

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera - Ch 9 - Coffee

(Previous… Prologue - Stars are Only Visible in Darkness, Estera - 1 - Colour, 2 - Dinosaur, 3 - Shoes, 4 - Thunderbird, 5 - Lesson, 6 - Safe, 7 - Gull, 8 - Deliver)

(Recrudescence by @sofasurf)

This ended up being the longest chapter yet… but they had a lot of ground to cover. Also, I hope you will forgive the cheesy aroma of self-indulgence at the end but once the idea came I couldn’t quite let it go. And what’s the point of writing a story if you can’t do all of the ridiculous things you want to, right?

A Conversation…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Hello, Scott.”

“Hey, you came!”

She did a tiny jazz hands then folded herself into the seat opposite, unravelling an incredibly long blue scarf from around her neck and face.

“Well at least you dressed right for the weather. I’ll admit I was a little surprised by how cold it is… isn’t it meant to be Spring?”

“Ah, welcome to Sidmouth. The sea breeze adds a certain something.”

“It’s a beautiful spot.”

“Yes, I love it here.”

Scott caught the eye of the waiter. “What can I get you?”

“Triple shot cappuccino please.”

He ordered two.

“I wasn’t expecting you until after the school day? Well, if you came at all, I mean… uh, you didn’t have to of course.” His mouth went dry.

“Of course I came.” She wound the scarf slowly around her hand as she continued

“I was actually supposed to have the day off today but was hoping being at school would be a distraction from it all. It wasn’t really working. I was actually about to leave when you, err, were there, so…” she reached the end of the scarf, placed it on the table in a neat rectangle and rested her hands on top.

“Thank you for your letter, it was… sweet of you.”

“I really am so sorry about the way I…”

She held up a hand. “Don’t, you’ve already apologised beautifully and it’s perfectly understandable. If anything needs forgiving then consider it forgiven.”

The waiter bustled over with the coffees. She fell on hers with surprising enthusiasm. Scott twirled the teaspoon in his fingers, trying to recall the various conversation starters he’d rehearsed to himself over the last 24 hours but they’d all evaporated the moment she’d sat down and any minute the silence was going to get awkward.

She put her mug down and tilted her head to one side, as if sizing him up.

“Zacząć od nowa?” She put a hand to her her mouth and shook her head. “Sorry, it’s been a long day… I mean, what if we started over?”

She held out a hand and Scott lifted his to meet it but hesitated, overwhelmed by a strange sense that his hand might go straight through hers and prove this was all in his head.

“Hello, my name’s Estera Hermaszewska. I’m a primary teacher here in the UK but I grew up in… what used to be Poland. I enjoy martial arts and running, I play the cello rather badly. Oh, and my favourite food is chocolate cake.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Your turn.”

He took her hand and shook it tentatively.

“Scott Carpenter Tracy. First responder and pilot. Ugh, and I guess the business stuff takes up a lot of my time so there’s that. I’m from” he paused “well, Kansas originally. We had a ranch there. I like to run too. Oh, and apple pie.”

She smiled “that’s a good choice.”

Ok. Ok. He’d established she was really alive, she was living and she had a life. Now to find out how it was possible.

“How did you come to be here? In the UK?”

She sighed, the memory obviously a heavy one.

“Well, there was this war on where I lived. I don’t know if you heard about it but it was fairly inconvenient…” her mouth twisted into a wry grin and as she caught his eye he found himself smirking along too. With a jolt he realised the dark humour reminded him of his old air force buddies.

“And you didn’t fancy sticking around?” he asked lightly.

She looked down at her hands and ran her thumb along the edge of the scarf.

“On the day we… met… I realised I had to disappear so they didn’t target my parents too. I knew people were being smuggled out on small aircraft and luckily that night there was a plane leaving from the playing fields just behind our house.”

Scott went light headed as he realised he knew exactly the one she meant. The same one he’d intended to hijack to secure his own freedom.

“They just let you on board?”

She laughed bitterly and blinked rapidly.

“Uh, no. We had to be hidden. There were some wooden crates. I think they were supposed to look like coffins so nobody would check inside. It was…” she trailed off and he suddenly recalled her comment in the cave.

“Hence the claustrophobia?”

Her hands tightened around the scarf and she blushed a little.

“Hence the claustrophobia. I, err, don’t fly well either. At all, actually. Which is fine, I’ve never needed to since.”

“And your parents?”

He immediately wished he could claw the words back into his mouth. The flicker of agony on her features was brief but unmistakeable.

“The soldiers didn’t make the connection, they stayed safe. But…” she swallowed and clenched her jaw and when she continued there was a quiet fury in her words “just before everything ended they both got sick. One of the things the militia did when they arrived was blockade the supply of medical aid. Nobody got the vaccine boosters they should have had and…” she closed her eyes “the malaria was bad that year.”

As he watched her tangle her fingers through the scarf again, Scott felt almost overwhelmed by nausea. He swore to himself she could never know he had survived the monster that had taken her parents from her.

She hurried on “What about you though? I saw the guy with the knife… he looked… I thought he was going to… I thought he had. I was sure of it.”

She didn’t know?

“It was you. You saved me! Whatever you threw… he left me to the other two and chased you instead?”

“He chased me?” She turned her head and stared out to sea. Maybe he was telling her too much, he shouldn’t have said that, she didn’t need to know. Except now she did. He mentally kicked himself. She seemed to come to a decision to file the implications away for later and met his eye again.

“But you didn’t escape?”

Somehow he held her gaze and answered reasonably calmly.

“No. No, I didn’t escape.”

“I’m so sorry, Scott. We heard stories about the camps and… I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t great.”

She looked at him incredulously and he took a breath, feeling he owed it to her to be honest.

“It’s difficult to find words to describe how horrific it was. I’m not completely sure how long it was between my arrival and it being liberated but they told me at least a couple of months. I… I came out sick and pretty broken but…” here he added his own mini jazz hands and a tiny forced smile “I survived.”

She nodded. “And look at everything you’ve achieved since!”

He shrugged that off. He didn’t deserve compliments right now. Something still wasn’t sitting right, still didn’t make sense in all of this. It didn’t fit the facts he knew.

“Estera, I’m sorry to ask this and please don’t answer if you don’t want to. But I have to ask it anyway. After… we met… did they uh, was there…”

He gripped the edge of the table and looked down, trying to steady his breathing. She reached a hand across and leaned into his line of sight, looking up at him calmly.

“It’s ok. You can ask it.”

“Did they… hurt… you?” The words burned his throat on the way out.

“After I left you? No, I never saw them again. I used my keycard to take the side gate from the alley into the school grounds to pick up my handbag… It was a crazy detour in retrospect but I panicked that if they found it they could use my ID to trace my family. Then I left via the back door and thankfully there was no sign of anybody.”

“They… were lying.”

Scott pressed his shaking palms into his eye sockets and shuddered.

They’d taunted him with unbearable detail of the humiliation and violence she’d been subjected to, all because of his intervention. But for him, they’d have had some fun then let her go… but he’d made the boss angry. He’d made it worse for her. If he hadn’t tried to play the hero she’d probably have survived.

It was a lie.

She had! They hadn’t done any of it.

All this time…

He laughed, bitterly. Then tried to explain himself.

“I’m sorry, they uh… told me… you… they… uh sorry.” He leaned back and looked at the sky, blinking to clear his vision, before taking a deep breath and blowing it out vigorously. He got control of himself and looked back at her. She was waiting. Looking sympathetic but not… not shocked or scared of what he might say.

“They told me I made it worse. That you were… punished for what I did and…” his voice caught “that you didn’t survive.”

“You didn’t. And I’m still here.”

“You are.”

“And so are you.”

“Seems that way.” he whispered.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Unprompted, the waiter materialised with fresh drinks and they both took the opportunity to pause and warm their cold fingers on the cups almost too hot to hold. She watched the steam, trying to collect her thoughts.

This conversation was never going to have been anything but difficult. But, it could have been worse. She hadn’t told him everything - he didn’t need to know everything - but what she had said… he’d seemed to understand? She’d not had that experience since the funding for the monthly therapy and support group for refugees was discontinued a year after the war ended. Since then, she’d been on her own. It didn’t seem fair to bring such things up with new friends. The fewer people who had to think about it the better. She raised the cup to her lips and blew away the steam.

Her hand trembled slightly and she slopped half the coffee over the table. Scott immediately contained it with napkins but there weren’t enough and she rooted in her coat pocket for the emergency packet of tissues she carried and produced them in a rush. Something else came out attached to the packet and fell to the table with a slight rattle.

Oh no. Oh no no no nooo.

He reached out and delicately picked it up between a thumb and forefinger.

“So… I can’t help but notice you have a tiny model of my leg in your pocket. Should I be concerned?”

Her face was burning.

“You… you know I work with kids, right? It’s um, not mine. I’m not a crazy stalker person or anything.” She glanced up and was relieved to see he was laughing. “In fact before today I didn’t know there were action figures, it’s usually the trading cards I have to confiscate. That’s quite some PR machine you’ve got there.”

Now it was his turn to look awkward.

“Ah, well… there were so many poor quality ones being sold and they were frankly an environmental disaster and the manufacturing conditions were awful and so TI made some official ones. Proper working conditions, closed loop. All the proceeds to charity so… uh, yeah. It still feels cringey but I think was the right thing to do.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck vigorously as if trying to warm it up. “The ones of me always lose legs. There have been an embarrassing number of design meetings on the point.”

She nearly choked on her coffee.

“I'm sorry but it's just so surreal that you not only have a toy figure made of you but you actually go to meetings where you discuss your leg strength!”

“My actual leg strength is just fine. I’ve barely ever lost one.”

“That’s good to know” she deadpanned and took a sip of coffee before smirking again

“So… do you have to model for these?”

“Thankfully, no… they do refresh them occasionally and we have to approve any new designs. I have an overarching veto since a novelty collection of them nearly got released for Valentines a few years back… Gordon was the creative menace behind it and cancelling the production run cost him a significant chunk of his trust fund. Although he would tell you it was worth it for the prototypes he got to keep.” He smirked, apparently remembering “Virgil’s was quite amusing in fairness…”

She quirked an eyebrow by way of encouragement to elaborate.

“1960’s artists overalls and palate, jaunty beret, red rose between his teeth. The overalls had an outrageously big floppy bow.”

She thought back to the serious but handsome young man who had gently explained everything to the parents at the rescue site and smiled

“I bet that would have been popular”.

“Probably. Gordon’s was meant to portray the aftermath of his Olympic Butterfly gold, but the proportions were way off and I can promise you nobody needs an action figure of him in Speedo’s.”

She could feel her eyes widen “Oh, well, yikes.”

Her attention was caught by a loud snarling as a dog belonging to one of the other customers faced off with that of a passer-by. She tried to ignore it.

“Dare I ask what was wrong with yours?”

A clatter of crockery and scrape of chairs on concrete as the angry dog slipped its leash and bounded after the other, barking aggressively. The owner gave chase, shouting apologies.

She rolled her eyes and looked back at Scott about to make some comment about puppy training classes but he wasn’t there.

He was sat in the same place but his eyes, wide but with deep lines of tension at the edges, looked straight through her, flitting from side to side as he tracked something she couldn’t see. His jaw moved in a way that suggested he was grinding his teeth and his hand resting on the table had formed a white knuckled ball. He was barely breathing.

She knew this.

Her heart ached for him that he knew it too.

Ever so gently she placed her own hand next to his and very slightly stroked the back of his wrist with the tip of a finger. Sometimes a subtle touch could be grounding, as long as it didn’t shock him.

She carried on talking softly, hoping the sound would help him find his way back but quickly began to run out of nonsense. Clutching at straws, she began to recite the poem she had read to the children during quiet time last Thursday.

“Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;”

After a few moments his jaw relaxed slightly and his lips moved soundlessly. Encouraged, she ploughed on

“Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds, – and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,

I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air…”

She paused, racking her brain for the next line. In the faintest whisper he finished it:

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue

I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or ever eagle flew –

And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

The gulls called to each other over the water, his eyes suddenly locked on to hers and he gasped.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #TB Estera #estera #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #Tw: ptsd

[edutainer2022]

So, it was a barrage of about 20 (that's right, twenty) ballistic missiles on the city at night. Twenty ballistic missiles sound (and feel) like, I presume, Thunderbirds 1 through 3 flying by and landing on your roof all at once. So I just kinda covered my head with a blanket (not gonna help if/when it hits, for the record) and noped out for a while.

But that's not the whole point of this post. When I did catch an hour of sleep before the next air raid (just called off, it's fine, for now), my mind supplied a dream I now maybe want to write down as a possible story idea: Jeff is in therapy after Oort Cloud and kinda... sets his therapist up to have lunch with Scott, because it came up Scott gave up therapy right after Dad disappeared, so the lunch is to determine if Dr Something or Other will take him up as a patient too. It's strictly business. Scott only agrees as a courtesy to Dad and because he's in NYC anyway, dealing with the TI board meltdown. The lunch is nice, though, they even walk a little back to Dr's office - it's a nice sunny fall. The Dr is a little spooked by a black car following them, but that's just Tracy Security - they get in trouble if he sneaks out downtown. No, the Dr won't take him up as a patient. No offense. None taken. The Dr will, however, take him up on the offer of dinner this Friday - to discuss the best ways to help Jeff reorient and adjust, or course. If that was maybe Dad's lowkey original intent, he doesn't let up, completely busy with IR reports and smiling into decaf coffee back at the penthouse. Jeff is maybe a little freaked out how much of a security frenzy this minor "occasion" elicits - extensive background checks, networking patterns, travel patterns, Kayo runs the NYC detail rugged, John is stressed. Jeff is confused - the Dr is already his shrink, so extensively vetted - but it's DIFFERENT, Dad, OMG! Jeff is wondering if he's maybe missing something there (and he probably is). Anyhow, the Tinies were shooed away from sing-songing "Scott and Dr sitting in a tree" when the next air raid started an I woke up.

#methinks i have astronomy #thunderbirds are go #scott tracy needs his dad #my sleeping mind thinks scott needs to date a shrink to actually get help #jeff tracy

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Kamen Rider Thunderbirds Chapter 4: The Egoistic Genius - Part 5-Riders Side

(Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5-Riders…)

I have returned to finish this chapter once and for all! >:D

Starting with the Riders' side of the ending!

@uniwolfcorn @teapotteringabout @skymaiden32 @knyee @janetm74 @the-original-sineater @amistrio @thundergeek59 @riallasheng @katblu42 @mariashades @room-on-broom @yarol2075 @llamawrites @etrnlvoid @dreamycloud @godsliltippy

-0-0-0-

The winter was restless that night. Cold winds howl through the frames of the tight shut windows, and snowflakes were nothing more than white blurs in darkness.

Comparing to the fast-passing crystals of water, were fast moving pixels on the screen. Much like the there were hundreds of white snowflakes, so there were hundreds of black letters that formed words and the sentences on the message boards.

Koji was checking in the messaging board net, made in the OS strictly accessed to only Kamen Riders around the globe. He saw the usual things; one board discussing the daily chaos in their daily lives. Another - how their missions and Kaijin hunts were doing. And… more chaotic shenanigans between the Riders.

One board that Koji had always kept an eye on, were from the Kamen Riders working with the world organisations (excluding International Rescue).

Kamen Rider Aqua, who was working with the WASPs, was reporting the news about the ongoing war with the underwater aliens. While Kabuto and his team in Spectrum were reporting the recent Mysteron activity.

Fruit Jesus! How tiring for the whole world, to have two ongoing wars with hostile races who seemed to be determined to wipe out humanity off the map, Koji thought grumbly, as if us Kamen Riders must worry about them as well, along with waves of new and old Kaijins each year.

Meanwhile, a lot of his fellow Riders where asking Koji how International Rescue had been doing? Quite a turn of events really, ever since he and his friends made first contact with them on that Fateful Day.

He explained in short and straight forward answers of things he knew from their encounter. What he got were… mixed thoughts.

Despite this, nobody thought once IR were shady. Just… secretive. More so than even Spectrum.

And of course, he later got a message from a ‘very famous detective’ - asking how Tensai was doing.

“Pretty much got his chance of meeting International Rescue… according to the Australian news. He is yet to report,” Koji typed in the reply, very casually. Not a few moments later, he got a rather hilarious outburst of ‘NANI!?’ sent back to him.

Their Genius Rider would love to see this.

Speaking of Tensai, as soon as he closed the program, the genius’s call came ringing. And in a blink of an eye, he clicked on the gear insignia.

“Good evening, mate!” How’s your little meeting with our rescue ‘cryptids’ went?” he greeted him.

“Fine, fine!” began the genius with a grin of a cheeky rabbit, “I met them, helped them beat the ever-living atoms out of the Kaijins, and saved the mine’s idol…” he smirked when his fellow Rider raised an eyebrow at him, “one of the big drilling machines that the Aussie Iron Mine had. And she got a cute name too. The drill’s name was ‘Bessie’.”

Koji rolled his eyes in amusement, “Don’t say its cuter than ‘G3-X’…” He immediately got a pout from the Rider genius.

“Oi, if this cheers you up; Leo just contacted me about your whereabouts. Got a lil' shock when he heard you met International Rescue," he smiled cheekily, in which the genius on the other side of the screen mirrored his expression.

“Oh, that reminds me! I got something to give him a run for his money!”

Tensai perked up and lifted a pointing finger before diving off camera. After sounds of shuffling (and a few crashes), he returned, with a familiar gun in his hands.

Immediately, Koji leaned into the screen as he made a gasp, “Lucky son of a-”

“Sō~ Koji! A genius of International Rescue gave me one of their weapons for me to improve on them, after giving them a little repairing service on one of their ships.” Tensai was hopping with excitement, an ahoge* appeared on top of his hair.

“Oh? They got a genius in their team too?” Koji asked.

“Hai! So that makes it five members, nē?” Tensai gave a smug at the screen.

Koji chuckled as he shook his head ruefully, “Don’t rush, mate. Just you wait, there’s probably more members that we haven’t met yet. What do you call him?”

“I just call him Meganē*” the genius Rider casually replied.

“Pretty straight forward, innit?” Koji had to restrain from rolling his eyes, despite snorting in amusement.

“Its better than Leo’s naming sense!” Tensai smirked as he crossed his arms.

“Fair,” he mirrored his friend’s expression, “Anything else?”

“That is all,” the genius nodded an exaggerated confident grin and crossed arms.

“Alright. Now get out of my sight, before I’ll start a bloody thundering typhoon on ya like this morning,” Koji said sarcastically.

Tensai winked with mischievousness and gave his friend his signature salute before signing off from the call.

He shook his head once more with a little amused huff and gently closed his laptop.

Then, he threw a glance at the window, seeing the snow continuing to fall on the window in the darkness.

In three days, it will be Christmas and the beginning of the Seven Days of Fortune… a stray thought crossed his mind. Then, the thought halted for a moment. He frowned; he swore there was something he wanted to say after that.

Koji shrugged himself with a smile, got up to give himself a little stretch, before leaving for the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Washed and dressed into his attire that he uses as pyjamas; he went to the bedroom to take some nice long night sleep.

-0-0-0-

*Japanese Translation

Meganē = Glasses

#Kamen Rider Thunderbirds series #kamen rider #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #my fanfics #thunderfam #kamen rider fandom #thunderbirds fanfiction #kamen rider fanfiction #fanfiction crossover

[dreamerofasgard]

Hopes for The Thunderbird & The Dragon

Chapter 1 - House of Ambition

Year 1 Part 1/4 I will try to keep each year to 3-5 parts. Once again if you wish to be tagged leave me a comment or DM me.🐍

Warnings: First-year prick attitude Draco. (self-explanatory) First-year Pansy Parkison (I know some people don't like her) Blood status.

Word count: 1.8k

Prologue

After the grand tour of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall, and Headmaster Dumbledore took your family and the four students to his office for a private sorting hat ceremony. You remembered that the first years normally got sorted on the first night in front of the entire school but due to you being a transfer, you got a private one.

“Now if Ms. Whitlock, if you would kindly take a seat we can get you sorted into your house,” Dumbledore said as he pulled up a chair for you to sit down. As you sit on the dark brown chair you see your mother take hold of your father's hand in excitement which makes you smile a bit as Professor McGonagall puts the Sorting Hat on your head.

" Ah, a transfer from our friends at Ilvermorny eh?" the sorting hat said as it took a moment to think, "You could be like your mother and make Ravenclaw proud you surely have the thirst for knowledge," it said as your mother smiled brightly at you along with Robert Hilliard the prefect for Ravenclaw "Or perhaps you would do best in Slytherin. Their cunning ambition to achieve great things knows no bounds." As the Sorting hat said this you thought it over, you were always an ambitious child and did help your cousins make a band despite their reluctance.

"Ah, I see. Slytherin!" the hat said as Professor McGonagall took the hat offer waving her wand to have your plain Hogwarts uniform transfigured into Slytherin robes. "Congratulations Ms. Whitlock," she said as Gemma Farley and your parents approached you as you stood up.

"I shall show you to our common room and help you get settled, that is if you'll allow Professors," she said looking at Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"I think that's a good idea, Ms. Farley. I believe we will have Ms. Whitlock rooming with Ms. Parkison and Ms. Greengrass" Dumbledore said as he dismissed the three boys from the other houses.

"I'm so proud of you sweetie," your parents said as they brought you in for a group hug before handing back your wand to you before following Gemma to the Slytherin Common room.

Your wand, thirteen inches, maple wood, phoenix feather core, slightly springy. Despite living most of your life in America your mother insisted on getting your wand from Ollivander's in Diagon Alley. When you first picked your wand from the box it made the room almost shake. Mr. Ollivander said that it was a sign of great potential and one's power that goes beyond the wand, whatever that meant you had no idea.

As you made your way to your common room Lux walked next to you careful not to bump into other students who were staring at you, the new kid. You weren't bothered that much by their stares after all you had just arrived during the second week of classes. As you continued onward on the Grand Staircase, Gemma came to a stop allowing other students to make their way to different classes when a girl your age wearing Slytherin robes walked up to her.

"Gemma, I was told by the Bloody Barron that Daph and I would be getting our third roommate today, do you know what time that will happen?" said the girl with a short brown haircut.

"Word does travel fast when you have ghosts in Hogwarts," said Gemma as she motioned for you to step forward, "This Is Y/n Whitlock a transfer student from Ivermorny. She just arrived a few hours ago and got sorted into our house. Please show her to your room while I fill in her parents on a few matters," she said before walking over to your parents.

"So you are the new girl," Pansy said as her eyes lit up, "my name is Pansy Parkison one of your roommates, a pleasure to meet you," she said as she reached out her hand to shake. After shaking hands Pansy led you down the last set of many stairs to the dungeons just outside the Slytherin common room.

"Has McGonagall or Gemma told you the password to get in?" Pansy asked curiously. "I don't think they did," you said trying to remember if McGonagall, Dumbledore, or Gemma said anything about a password.

"I thought so," said a disappointed Pansy as she before walking up to the wall and said "Thestral" Once the word was spoken a snake for the floor curved up and made an archway that revealed a door. "Welcome to your new home," Pansy said as she took your hand and walked carefully down the spiral staircase that oddly enough had a small water fountain at the bottom of it.

"Oh wow" was all you could manage to say as you looked at the Slytherin common room. The stonework was incredible and the windows looking out into the bottom of the Black Lake were gorgeous. The rugs all over the stone floor gave the cool interior a home feel as the fireplace and couches looked so welcoming. You walked further in and saw the skylights of stained glass on the ceiling before looking around more and seeing all the display cases, tapestries, and living portraits. The common room was full of greens and grays giving it a cold look but you didn't mind much. You were under the Black Lake so the structural integrity was more important than if the common room was extremely homie.

Pansy chuckled as she walked up beside you. "It's quite amazing isn't it?" she looks around the room with you as your eyes land on the statue of Salazar Slytherin. "That's one of the founders Sal-"

"Salazar Slytherin, known for his determination and ambitious nature. Valued keeping magic to pureblooded families and left Hogwarts after a disagreement with the other founders about muggle-borns" you said as you looked up at the statue as you recount the history McGonagall told you during the tour. "Sorry that I cut you off Pansy."

"No no, it's fine. I'm just surprised you know some of the history" she said as she took your hand again and started walking towards one of the dorms on the girls' side. "Well, Professor McGonagall did give a detailed history of the castle during the tour with my parents. This place is full of so much history and stories of past adventures, it would be a shame not to explore and learn its secrets" you said as you picked up Lux as Pansy opened the dorm to your dorm room.

"You do have a point, " Pansy says as she walks into the dorm room "Welcome to our room!" she says happily as a girl with Blonde hair looks up from her desk surprised. "Daphne say hello to our new roommate."

"You must be Y/n Whitlock. The Bloody Baron told us that you were most likely going to be rooming with us." Daphne said as she walked over to you. "I'm Daphne Greengrass, we will be in most of the same classes along with Pansy," she says as she shakes your free hand. "And who is this sweet one?"

"This is Lux, my mom gave me her before we left," you say as Lux mews cutely as all three of you smile at the kneazle.

"I believe we should help get you unpacked," said Gemma from the doorway with your trunks and owl as she smiled at the sight of the three girls getting along.

*about 15-30 minutes later*

"I believe that's all of it," you say as you take your owl Ripley out of her cage to let her walk around the room a bit before dinner.

"So what is all this muggle stuff, I thought you were a pureblood," Pansy asked as she went through your stack of records both confused and curious.

"Well, my family has a deep love of music and that extends to the no-mugis aka muggles' music. We are a pureblood family though in America we try to see the no-magis or muggles as just people. My family does know the inherent "value" of blood purity but when it comes to certain things like music" you say as you get up and start flipping through your vinyls.

"I guess when you come from America the stance on muggles is different. My parents, however," Pansy says as she picks up an album by The Rolling Stones, "Don't care for anything Muggle-related, Can we put this one on?" she says holding the record out to you.

"Oh this is a good one and one of my father's favorites," you say putting the record on and adjusting the volume so it's not too loud. Daphne smiled softly as the room was filled with music she never heard before.

After an hour or two of sharing your favorite albums with the girls, it was just about time for dinner. As the three of you made your way to the Great Hall you let Ripley find her way to the Owlery by following the other owls flying overhead. As you made your way into the Great Hall you followed Pansy and Daphne and sat down with four other boys.

“And who are you I don’t remember you from the sorting ceremony,” said the blonde boy with grey eyes as he looked at you confused why you were sitting with his friends.

“I’m Y/n Whitlock, I just transferred from Ilvermorny and got sorted this morning. And you are,” you say as you look at the blonde as well as the three other boys.

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. These two are Crabbe and Goyle,” the two boys boys across from him nodded as Draco continued, “The quite one is Blaise Zabini” as Blaise looked up and smiled softly at you. “So Whitlock are you by chance related to Frederick Whitlock the new Chief Auror?” He said as he sounded a little excited. Everyone looked at you waiting for your response as being a pureblood meant that your family had wealth and some sway in the ministry but having your parents in important positions meant if anyone messed with you there would be consequences.

“That’s my dad yeah, he just got the promotion last week as well as my mum becoming the Head of the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures,” you said as you started to put some food on your plate as you smiled proudly at your parents’ achievements.

“My father was telling me about you folks, apparently your father is one of the best Aurors since Aesop Sharp and Theseus Scamander. Your father will be giving Mad Eye Moody some competition,” Draco said as the tone shifted from slightly uncomfortable to welcoming, “And your mum is practically set up to be the next Newt Scamander my father heard.”

“That’s my parents for ya. Always dreaming big and aiming for the stars,” you smiled before you started eating as the rest of dinner the group filled you in on what you missed the first week of classes as well as telling you about the Gryffindor trio that was the bane of Draco’s existence.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #series #draco malfoy

[o0anapher0o]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for tagging me @meraki-yao. I am very happy at the oportunity to shamelessly plug many, many of my fics :D Let’s do this!

How many works do you have on ao3?

47

What?! When did that happen? And how?

What’s your total ao3 word count?

502,199

Weirdly less surprising, even thought hat number is completely unreal.

What fandoms do you write for?

Interview with the vampire (2022)

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries

Red White and Royal Blue

Star trek: Deep Space Nine

And I have one teeny tiny Thunderbirds fic

Top 5 fics by kudos

Somewhere I have never travelled (ds9)

Petal by Petal (ds9)

Your most frail gesture (ds9)  

Watch that man (rwrb)

Personality (ds9)

I feel like I should count the first three as one, since it’s literally parts 1, 2 and 3 of a trilogy.

Surprising how fast my first rwrb fic got up there.

Do you respond to comments?

Always, usually a bit rambly. I love talking to people about my writing :D

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Puh, that’s a hard one. I’m such a happy endings girl. My instinct was one of my iwtv fics, but they’re more angry than angsty lol, so I’m saying it’s between Of all untruths the truest is you (iwtv) and Do no harm (ds9)

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Your most frail gesture ends with a wedding, though actually I like the accepted proposal in Petal by Petal more.

Do you get hate on fics?

None so far (knock on wood).

Do you write smut?

No. A lot of my fics make it clear sex is happing but I don’t write it and I haven’t really any urge to.

Craziest crossover

My TayNick character crossover New Information. Also my only crossover so far, but that’s a side note.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. Hopefully having all my stuff archivelocked will keep it that way.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

YES! Someone did a translation of Do no harm into Russian. Only one of the coolest things that ever happened to me (though I would have preferred to be asked beforehand rather than simply be presented with a link).

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I’m not entirely sure how that would work, but I’d be open to it.

All time favourite ship?

Why do people insist you have to have one favourite over everything else? No, I’m an adult, I can have as many OTPs as I want.

What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Beneath Lucifer’s claws. I love this story so much, but I have it in me to finish it. I also have an old ATLA fic I love to bits, that has really neat bits but I was such a different person when I wrote it, it would need a complete rewrite and half of my favourite scenes don’t really work anymore.

What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told my pacing is good. And I think I’m quite good at characters voices right when it comes to fanfic.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Punctuation. And I definitely suffer from ‘why use a period when I can use a comma’ disease XD. Scene transitions always feel clumsy to me, I don’t know if they read like it.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Oh, there’s an essay. If I were to give general advice I’d say, avoid it. It’s fun to read when you speak the language and annoying if you don’t, having to look up stuff all the time interrupts the reading flow. It’s even more annoying when you speak the language and the author clearly didn’t.

I’ve seen it done well once, where it was used so the characters couldexchange information because that was the natural thing to do for them, while keeping it a secret from the reader. That was neat. 'But even that could be done by just saying 'he said something in [language]'.

First fandom you wrote in?

Published or not? My first published fic was Jack’s Desk for mfmm. But I also still have fifteen year old supernatural and vampire diaries fics in a notebook somewhere. The world wasn’t ready yet.

Favourite fic you’ve written?

Something unstoppable and Somewhere I have never travelled. Neither of them came out the way I thought they would but I love how they ended up so much.

tagging @sapphosewrites @xenobotanist and @nalyra-dreaming

#ask game #fanfic writing

[hebuiltfive]

The Depths - for # FABFIVEFEB

I thought I'd try my hand at @gumnut-logic's Fab-Five-Feb challenge this week. I chose the prompt 'lost'. It wasn't supposed to be sad, but apparently that's all I'm good at writing at the moment. Maybe I might try to write up a cheerier fic with another prompt for Gordon before the week is out. Anywho, I hope you enjoy! <3

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

Each of the boys had their own coping strategies for when a mission went south. 

For Gordon, he often found himself down on one of the secret beaches of Tracy Island, swimming trunks on. Occasionally, he’d take Thunderbird 4 out for a dive, but that wasn’t going to suffice. Today, he planned on just getting into the water, to feel the waves lap around his body, to just let go of the world for a while. Besides, taking his rescue vehicle out would only further remind him of the very mission he was trying so hard to forget.

Gordon wasn’t usually one to feel so lost within his thoughts, at least not outwardly so. Normally, he’d be able to find someway to lighten the mood. This time was different, though. This was one of those rare occurrences where, no matter what they did, disaster was going to claim the lives of the people International Rescue were trying to save, and for Gordon, that also meant having to helplessly watch.

He shook off the mental images of the scorch marks that were seared onto his mind, of the burning embers of the building that still filled his nostrils, of the pleas of the people he was unable to reach in time that still crescendoed in his ears. Unable to reach because they’d got there too late. Unable to reach because he knew he wouldn’t get to them in time and, instead of trying anyway, he’d just stopped. If he went in further, he’d have been lost to the fire too.

Events became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Gordon was usually the first person to tell others that being calm was the most important thing to be in a crisis, and yet he allowed the fear to take over him in that moment. He never usually let that happen. He usually remained level headed in the field, he always remained calm, but there, in that smoky warehouse where he knew all efforts would be pointless, he had just frozen. Virgil reminded him constantly on the ride home that there was no outcome where they could have saved those people, and that by going further in to that building would have been a risk to their own lives, but that wasn’t an excuse to Gordon. 

What made his life more valuable than those trapped workers? 

What made his life more valuable than any of those people they had failed to save in the past?

What made his live so valuable that he got to live?

Those questions, so profound and deep, kept eating away at him. They would continue to eat away at him. Even when he might have thought that he’d successfully shelved them away (at least until the next disaster happened) they’d still remain, in the back of his mind, because that’s what survivor’s guilt did. It would keep niggling, keep asking, keep attacking him with the same query: why did he get to live if the others couldn’t?

That wasn’t to say that Gordon wasn’t glad to be alive, or that he took his life for granted. Oh, no, he made sure that he made the most of everyday. Some of his antics usually resulted in causing Scott to grow a few more grey hairs by the end of it, but Gordon was aware of his luck. Especially when it came to his line of work, and especially after so many near misses and close calls. He was still there— all of his brothers were — after everything they'd been through, and those people were not. 

Gordon didn’t usually allow himself to get lost in those thoughts, not only because it wasn’t helpful in the slightest, but also because it was always painful to dwell on. He knew the thoughts were normal. He was aware that those questions were the fundamentals to anyone suffering with survivor’s guilt. He also had suspicions that his brothers often had the same process of thinking after disastrous missions.  But ‘normal’ didn’t have to equate to ‘getting used to’, or ‘should be expected’. ‘Normal' wasn’t always reassuring, and it shouldn’t always be related as such because it sure as hell wasn’t reassuring him currently. 

There was only thing one thing that Gordon knew would reassure him; the water. The water would help. The water would refresh him. The water would help him lose himself in a far better way than theses thoughts ever could.

The sandals he wore to get down to the beach were carelessly thrown to the sand. Two steps forward and the gentle tides of the water washed over his feet. A few more steps and he was submerged in the water up to his waist. Kicking off the sandy bank, Gordon finally dove under the surface. Air bubbles rose before him, the sound of the depths of the ocean filling his ears and subsequently calming him. 

Peace. 

It was a peace unlike anything one could find on the shore. So far removed from everyone and everything, it was a peace that was as unique as the silence John found and appreciated up on Thunderbird Five. The waves of the sea that took him further and deeper, the shoals of fish that swam under, over and all around him, the vibrant coral reefs that grew near the banks and the rocks of the island— this was Gordon’s terrain. 

He allowed his body to float back up to the surface. The sun was soon to start setting over the horizon. Gordon had told himself that he’d stay there, treading the blue depths, until night settled. That way he would also be avoiding any mollycoddling from his family. He didn’t want that right now. He didn’t need it. All he needed was a chance to get those memories out of his mind, to meditate them away the only way he knew how. 

He dove back under the waves. With a powerful butterfly stroke, Gordon swam deeper and deeper. Away from the world above. Away from the questions that haunted his mind. Away from the memories, and the sounds, and the smells. 

Away from everything, until it was just him and the sea.

#fabfivefeb #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfic #gordon tracy #i've never been swimming in the ocean #can you tell by my vague descriptions? #five fics

[skymaiden32]

Testing 1, 2, 3

Read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Thundertober Day 12 - Hospital

They were just going in for a few tests.

Continuity: TAG

------

“I really don’t see why I have to do this with you guys…” Alan grumbled, clambering out of the car to follow his brothers, who were both waiting patiently for him.

“Because, Alan,” Virgil sighed, “it wasn’t just us who had check-ups due.” He folded his arms. “May as well get all of them done at once.”

Scott quickly sent a message to home, and put his phone away. “Besides, it’s just a few tests. We should be in and out.”

Alan gave him a look. “And if we’re not? There’s no way I’m staying at the hospital overnight for observation, or whatever they call it.”

“Trust me. Neither one of us would want that either, but it’s better safe than sorry.” Scott assured. “If we do have to stay, I’m sorry to say we’ll just have to deal with it. 

“I guess…” Alan huffed. 

The three brothers walked into the building, stopping when they reached the front desk. The receptionist looked up at them, and without smiling, asked, “Name?”

“Tracy.” Scott answered, causing the receptionist to raise an eyebrow at the surname. “We have an appointment with Dr Kirst.”

In the most monotone voice she could muster, the receptionist threw a couple of forms the eldest brother's way. “Fill these out. I’ll let the doctor know you’ve arrived.” She stood up, pointing to a row of chairs that was clearly a waiting area. “I’ll call out and give directions when she’s ready to see you.”

“Thank you!” Scott nodded to her, and forms in hand, the three brothers made to sit down. The papers were passed around, and they sat in silence for a moment before Alan interrupted it.

“She was a bundle of laughs, wasn’t she?” He huffed, taking a pen from Scott to fill out his form.

“Well,” Virgil started with a rare mischievous grin on his face. “After maybe years of sitting at a desk being greeted by folks as hideous as you…” Big brother mode was on.

“Mature, Virgil. Real mature…” Alan deadpanned. Two could play at that game. “I thought Gordon was the one who made the jokes in this family.”

“Oh, and I suppose I can’t make them, huh?” Virgil asked, still a teasing glint in his eye.

Alan looked his brother up and down, as if considering it, and then stated in the most even tone possible, “No.”

“Guys…” Scott warned, sighing. “If we could leave this hospital without a fight breaking out, that would be amazing.”

Virgil finished up his form quickly, still smiling. “Just brotherly banter, Scooter…”

“You sure about that?” Alan asked, but he was also smirking.

“It’ll all end in tears…” Scott prophesied ominously. Virgil and Alan quickly changed their target. 

‘Wow, that’s such a Smotherhen thing to say,’ came at the same time as, ‘If you say so, ‘Mom’…’

Scott snorted. “Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in defeat. “You guys win this round. But you will never win the war…” He promised, gesturing for the two of them to hand him the complete forms. Once he had them, he walked up to put them on the front desk. The receptionist snatched them up quickly.

They were there for about half an hour, bored out of their minds, before the woman at the front desk called their names, telling them where the doctor's office was. The trio was out of the seats in an instant.

------

“That wasn’t that bad, was it?” Virgil asked matter-of-factly an hour later, pulling open the door of the car so he could sit down. His brothers clambered in after him.

“No, it wasn’t.” Alan agreed.

Scott wasn’t so sure. “If I never see a needle again in my life, it’ll be too soon…” He shivered.

Alan opened his mouth to tease his eldest brother, but thought better of it when Virgil gave him a death glare. He closed his mouth sheepishly. Right. He’d completely forgotten. His brother’s fear wasn’t irrational; there was a reason for it. And a darn good one at that. “I’ll just be happy to be home.” He said instead.

His brothers nodded, agreeing. “It sure will sprout.” Virgil said, pulling out of the sea of cars. “It sure will…”

#thunderfam #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #sky writes stuff #thundertober #thundertober 2023

[aphrogeneias]

𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒊𝒂𝒔' 𝒑𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆

to celebrate rock and roll's softer side — and this blog's most recent big milestone! — i am hosting my first ever writing challenge, inspired by my favorite hard rock and heavy metal love songs. from back in the day where record labels obligated the world's heaviest bands to write at least one love song, and they came up with the cheesiest, sappiest music ever made. after all, those leather and spikes-clad men had hearts too.

RULES

you don't have to be following me to join, though you are welcome to.

deadline: september 30.

any genre is welcome, just make sure to tag your warnings appropriately. if your story is over 500 words long, please use the read more feature.

i will not limit the characters or fandoms you can write for, just follow your heart and have fun! reader inserts, original characters and character x character stories are all welcome as well. wlw/mlm ships are more than encouraged.

when you post, make sure to tag me and use the #power ballads writing challenge tag.

the prompts are not limited and more than one person can use the same prompt, they can be used as dialogue, inserted in the narrative or just used as inspiration or theme for your story.

happy writing! and for those about to rock, we salute you <3

also, here's the challenge's official playlist.

PROMPTS

1. "i never opened myself this way" (nothing else matters — metallica)

2. "i know how you feel inside, i've been there before" (don't cry — guns n' roses)

3. "try to trust in my love again" (still loving you — scorpion)

4. "when you wake up, will you walk out?" (love bites — def leppard)

5. "i've always been a fighter, but without you, i give up" (always — bon jovi)

6. "love's a game of easy come and easy go" (every rose has its thorn — poison)

7. "we're partners in crime" (cryin' — aerosmith)

8. "it's been a long year since you've been gone" (fall to pieces — velvet revolver)

9. "reach out your hands and touch me" (more than words — extreme)

10. "two strangers learn to fall in love again" (faithfully — journey)

11. "love is blind and love deceives you" (prisoner of your eyes — judas priest)

12. "i've got nowhere left to go" (heaven — warrant)

13. "you said i love you without a sound" (i remember you — skid row)

14. "i can't come home right now" (beth — KISS)

15. "don't look back, but think of me" (thunderbird — quiet riot)

16. "your love is a dagger" (close my eyes forever — lita ford)

17. "i want to hurt you just to hear you scream my name" (poison — alice cooper)

18. "i can't wait to see you again" (is this love — whitesnake)

19. "the passion and the pain are one" (sleeping in the fire — w.a.s.p)

20. "i wanna walk but i run back to you" (i hate myself for loving you — joan jett & the blackhearts)

21. "please, don't ask for more" (carrie — europe)

22. "i've seen your face a hundred times every day we've been apart" (mama, i'm coming home — ozzy osbourne)

23. "makes me wonder if it's worth it to carry on" (the price — twisted sister)

24. "everybody dreams of angels" (the ballad of jayne — l.a. guns)

25. "you can't hide your heartache away" (givin' yourself away — ratt)

26. "it's a game that you lose" (runaway — riot)

27. "we can share a life together" (amanda — boston)

28. "do you wanna see me begging?" (don't know what you got (till it's gone) — cinderella)

29. "i know a thing or two, i learned from you" (love hurts — nazareth)

30. "you're the reason the sun shines" (without you — mötley crüe)

31. "tell me all your thoughts" (if i knew — helloween)

32. "i meant every word i said" (keep on loving you — reo speedwagon)

33. "this time i want to be sure" (waiting for a girl like you — foreigner)

34. "i would give you both night and day" (feel like makin' love — bad company)

35. "let me be the one to hold you" (to be with you — mr. big)

#power ballads writing challenge #luiza.txt

[kaymd0313]

Chapter One: First Day

Warnings: Language

MINORS DNI

I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off, which basically ripped me out of my dream of something I can't quite remember. I slowly sat up in my bed and looked around. My room was still basically boxes. I hadn't been able to put up any of my posters, which upset me. But this whole situation upset me. I was living my best life in New York with my dad, but all of a sudden we had to move to good ol' Hawkins, Indiana. LET ALONE MY SENIOR FUCKING YEAR. So I finally gave in after a few minutes of debating if I should skip my last ‘first day’ or not. I decided to go, my dad would be disappointed, so I'd rather not deal with that. I rummaged through a few boxes before I found my clothes. I took the box and dumped it on my bed to get my favorite band-t and some basic jeans. At the moment I was really into Van Halen so that's the type of shirt I wore. I sat in the mirror and picked at the few bumps on my face and wiped off the blood, then decided to head downstairs.

My dad was sitting at the table that was half covered in boxes. My dad was a great guy, I mean we didn't have a strong bond, but there were some good moments.

"Morning y/n! How'd you sleep hun?" I barely got a word out before he brought up his new job, telling me how excited he was about his first day. I was happy for my dad, but I really didn’t want to be here. So while he was talking about what he would have to do on his first day, I scarfed down my breakfast.

I had to interrupt, “Sorry dad, I gotta go, I’m gonna be late. Love ya”. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and grabbed my keys and bag then walked out the front door.

One thing I was super happy about that I got to keep during the move was the car that my dad got me for my 18th birthday. A 1980 Thunderbird. As soon as I got in I turned the music all the way up. I currently had the Van Halen cassette in, so on my way to Hawkins High School I blasted that. 

As I pulled into the parking lot people were already staring. I decided to park in the back of the parking lot. I didn’t care if I had to walk, I just wanted to be alone for a bit before I had to go inside. “Everybody Wants Some!!” came on as I turned off the car and headed to the main office.

“Hi, my name is y/n l/n. I’m new here so I need to get my schedule.” I said to the lady behind the counter. She just looked at me and went into what I assume to be the principal's office. The principal came out and showed me to her office. We talked a bit about the previous classes I took at my last school. She then set up my schedule. By the time she was done, it was already time for second period. Which was math, my worst subject. She wrote me a note and sent me on  my way. 

As I walked down the hallway I noticed a group of guys goofing off and skipping class. A part of me wanted to join them, but I dismissed this idea. One of them looked at me, and his dark brown eyes stopped me in my tracks for a second before I started walking again. When I got to class I couldn’t think of anything except his eyes. How alluring his eyes were left me completely unaware of everything, that is until I saw them again at lunch.

Authors Note: Like I said, these chapters started off very short. <3

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie lives