#john tracy didn't sign up for this

[edutainer2022]

A cold, vicious cyclone caught me unawares in the middle of the city the other day, right as I decided it was too hot for the coat. So, naturally, Scott gets under the weather in NYC, quite literally (and is being a stubborn doofus about it). It's an Earth and Sky fluff, but in the end, John decided he wanted in, so Earth and Star have a good hearty chat too. Virgil and John are being very good brothers. Absolutely nothing hurts. A greatful boop to @idontknowreallywhy, @astranite and @janetm74 for soft fabrics and Top Gun featuring.

UNDER THE WEATHER

The perks of living on a tropical island included not only it being remote, secluded and perfect to house a state-of-the-art rescue operation. It was also the whole being TROPICAL deal. Whenever one stepped out - it was reliably warm. The downside of living on a remote tropical island was losing the habit to navigate the regular four-seasons weather. Or the fickle New York City climate.

Truthfully, Scott didn't miss it much. Of course, he'd be fondly nostalgic about Kansas and snow slides, or, would occasionally get caught up in the inherent wistful mood of early NYC fall. But he definitely didn't miss THIS - being caught up in the icy torrent and orange warning winds two blocks away from the Tracy Tower. In nothing but his dress shirt and slacks.

They were at Tracy Industries headquarters with Virgil for the better half of the week. Virgil was involved in pre-screening the latest batch of R&D pitches, before they would move on to Brains and John for the final approval and production. Scott was held hostage by the Department of Finance for budget amendments and redistribution.

When the opportunity presented itself, well into the afternoon, to escape his own untimely death by paperwork or premeditated murder of a high ranking employee, Scott ran for the hills, slipping expertly beneath the radar of Kayo's handpicked security detail.

His underlying motive was quite noble - to walk to that coffe-shop Virgil liked and get his brother and himself some decent coffee. Virgil loved coffee and Scott loved Virgil - the rationale for his sortie was ironclad. Of course, pursuing exclusively immaculate fraternal care didn't provide for ditching his earpiece and wrist com. The hasty retreat also meant his designer (and more importantly in his current predicament - woolen) jacket got left hanging on the back of his chair by the bay window. He forgot this wasn't Tracy Island, the sun outside the window and climate control in the offices and their penthouse at the top of the Tracy Tower lulled his vigilance. And now, without a comm to get a timely warning from Eos or to call a cab (or the security SUV with a profound apology, or One from the landing pad on the roof), Scott was caught in the sudden onslaught of a cyclone.

The prudent thing to do would be to go back to the Tower. So, of course, Scott decided in favor of the opposite and broke into a run for the rest of the distance to the coffee place. The relentless laws of physics - speed and resistance - made sure he was soaked through the very last thread of clothing on his body and chilled to the bone by the time he got there.

His hair plastered to the forhead, the supershiny gel having lost the round with the freezing downpour, rivers of water drained down from the top of his head all the way past the suit slacks and dress shoes splashed in muck. There were poodles of water INSIDE his shoes. His socks were wet. His shirt was drenched. The squelching of the fabric as he walked up to the counter suggested he was wet EVERYWHERE. Yuk! That, at least, he didn't know as he was getting numb all over from the cold.

Scott was aware he probably looked like a wet stray cat. It was that or his shirt became see-through in the rain - as a barrista with a cute smile tried to waive his fee for the coffee. Unacceptable! He paid for two extra large, extra strong brews,  and rushed out, stifling a sneeze. Must have been the shirt, since one of the take-away cups had a phone number scrolled on the side. Which was a small consolation, as he broke into a jog again, making his way back through the raging elements.

***

The Tracy Industries front desk in the lobby, thankfully, didn't detain him, so he snuck into the elevator, not making eye contact with anyone. It was getting increasingly hard to hold the coffee cups - his hands were numb and shaking, and his teeth were clattering in time with full body shivers. Scott was sure he had hit the executive floor button, but the elevator made no stop, gliding all the way up to the private penthouse. Figures. He'd probably earned himself a lecture not only from the on site security team, but from John as well.

The door slid open on his approach across an antechember and he was welcomed in the hallway by a wall of flannel presided by furrowed black brows. Scott brandished the procured coffee cups like a shield, instinctively. He would sound more nonchalant if he were not stuttering from the cold.

"Hey, Virg, I got your favorite coffee!"

His face muscles were too frozen for a smile.

Virgil was holding a massive towel, or maybe a full body length terrycloth sheet, like an unfurled banner, and appeared completely unmoved by Scott's heroic endeavor.

"How very kind of you! Now step on the rug and strip. I'm not mopping after you!"

Scott looked down and found himself standing, indeed, on one of Gordon's old bright pool towels. It was already soaked halfway through with all the water Scott was dripping. He felt marginally ashamed as the elevator likely sported poodles too. But it was hard to maintain several self-deprecating emotions at once, being that cold and miserable.

The styrofoam cups were tentatively deposited on the glove table. Scott peeled off his soaked dress shirt and shed the trousers more than eagerly, toed off wet (and probably ruined too) shoes. Francesco the designer would bite his head off. But that could wait. He needed something warm off the rack now! A move off the towel was aborted, however, by the reappearance of the Eyebrows over the terrycloth edge.

"Uh-uh! Everything, Scooter! You're NOT wedging your undies behind the shower stall. Again!"

Scott sighed. That was ONE TIME! He was sneaking back past the curfew and tried to conceal evidence. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out. The moment the last wet cloth on him joined the pile on the floor, he was wrapped head to ankles in the sea of soft blue fabric and steered in the general direction of the shower.

"You know the drill! Try to warm up under hot water as long as you can. If you feel lightheaded - yell, I'll be right here."

The scolding shower helped somewhat. He could still feel the freezing grip around his ribs, but his extremities were not as numb anymore, at least. There was a stack of warm sleepwear waiting for him as he stepped out in the cloud of fog. Scott smiled - it was a motley assembly of his own clean trunks and sweatpants, a well-worn soft flannel shirt and a Denver Engineering hoodie, that swapmed his frame. Hair toweled off and curling every which way, he was mostly ready to venture back out into the colder world, but felt dead tired.

There was a nest of throw pillows and a blanket, assembled on the couch, unfolded to full length, in the living room. Scott made an immediate beeline for it and tugged the blanket around his shoulders, trying to fold his feet beneath as well. The shivers were crawling back. Virgil emerged from a door that was decidedly neither Scott's nor his own room, carrying a pair of fluffy bright orange socks and an extra comforter.

***

After some gentle, yet determined, coaxing, the orange socks were tugged onto Scott's icy cold feet and a second blanket was tucked snuggly around him. Virgil settled by his side against a couple of snatched pillows, pondering idly that they would need to get a spare weighted blanket for the penthouse too. They would also owe John more socks. The Scott-sized frozen burrito shuffled closer and Virgil wrapped an arm around his wayward big brother, offering more of his body warmth. The chills worried Virgil. Scott was fit and healthy, but he was chronically exhausted and hadn't been exposed to cyclones without IR-grade water-proof gear, or at least a raincoat, in a while.

"So... you wanna watch Top Gun?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Scott's face immediately shot up, beaming with a thousand suns. He also did an enthusiastic giant caterpillar wiggle, blanket and all. Virgil thought in that moment his core memory was probably Scott, all bright eyes, gap-teeth smile and dimples, bouncing with excitement and unbridled energy. He wished he got to revisit it more often.

The opening frames rolled on the holoscreen to the sound of the all too familiar Anthem. Virgil finally reached for so hard earned cup of coffee, now reheated, and couldn't contain a snort.

"Aw, Scooter, you actually scored a number for your troubles?"

It was obvious Scott wasn't going to last through the movie - his eyes were droopping and voice slurred, mostly muffled by plaid flannel.

"M'dashin'!"

A smaller hologram appeared at that exact moment on Virgil's comm. John looked way too amused:

"Actually, that's the number of a homeless shelter around the corner from the coffee shop."

Virgil's laughter full on rumbled at that. He raised a hand to ruffle the back of big brother's head:

"Oh yeah, you're a dashing idiot."

"M'cold."

The muffled complain was exemplified by a full body shiver.

"Sure, Scotty! You're a cold, wet, dashing idiot."

There was no protest to that, just a soft, slightly stuffed snore. Virgil adjusted the hold on the now sound asleep biggest brother to snuggle him closer.

***

The F-14A Tomcat was playing chicken with a MiG-28 on the screen. John's hologram lingered. Virgil could tell the space ginger was concerned more than he let on. John finally spoke.

"Is he gonna be alright? Should I cancel his Friday?"

Untamed by the gel, the now dry and fluffy ringlets made it difficult to reach Scott's forhead, but the back of Virgil's hand found the way, careful not to disturb. The skin was cool to his touch, no signs of fever.

"He'll be alright. He just needs to warm up and sleep it off."

He moved to rub a soothing circle over Scott's back as the big brother relaxed deeper into sleep. It was sorely tempting to clear Scott's schedule for the next day and mandate more rest. But Virgil was aware it would pose a risk of Scott, not held down by a cold, hairing off to the island in One, insisting to be back on the roster, if not on TI business. That would be a shame, as a big part of the weekend, Virgil had been looking forward to, was going to see Tosca at the Metropolitan Opera with biggest brother.

John  was still hovering, unconvinced. Virgil siged, but smiled:

"Well, Johnny, unless you want to come down from orbit and join me at the box, I'd rather our reservation to a sold out six months in advance opera didn't fall through."

John looked appropriately appalled and quite earnest:

"I love you more than my life, brother, but I do draw a line at too many people doing too many loud things in a confined space. Call me Johnny and see how often I come down from orbit!"

Virgil stifled a huff of laughter, as Scott shuddered and groaned quietly, but, thankfully, didn't wake up. The warm-up circles over his back and shoulders resumed. Virgil hugged him closer. John shifted attention to the swaddled biggest brother in fond amusement.

"What did you bribe him with, anyway?"

Virgil didn't have the energy to protest.

"Apfelschtrudel from that place Gordon found. And he can preview the R&D projects I selected for Brains, if he gets bored. No call-outs, no reports, no work mail though."

The gazed Virgil fixed on John was full of fair warning. It was John's turn to smile.

"Don't worry. You love watching opera and Scott loves watching us doing what we love. He'll be fine. And locked out of his work accounts, for good measure."

Silence stretched for several moments, interrupted only by Scott's soft snoring.

Virgil looked down on the slumbering brother in his arms, then back at John.

"I wish he did more of what he loves. Just Scott. For himself - not for us, or for the company, or the world."

That wasn't an issue easily solved in a casual conversation through an impromptu movie night. If at all. John knew that too, all too well. The brother in orbit chewed on his lip, lost in thought.

"You could sugget he get coffee in that place again. She's a Hudson Uni postgraduate. Cultural Anthropology."

Virgil was mostly used to John's the Resident Genius thoughts veering in unexpected directions, but the ginger thoroughly lost him there.

"Huh? Who's a postgrad where?"

John rolled his eyes in exasperation commonly reserved to explaining things to the bristling rescuees and a five year old Gordon.

"The barrista that gave Scott a shelter number today. She works part time and volunteers there often. One time she even volunteered at the IR disaster site. Remember, the sinkhole? She seems nice."

Top Gun closing scenes were replaced by assorted social media pages and university profile pages. Virgil gulped.

"John! You can't go doxxing random people!"

John's hologram up in orbit shrugged:

"I have Eos run background checks automatically on anyone who comes in contact with you guys. We can't take any chances!"

There was sound and, sadly, field proved reasoning behind what nearly cost them barely averted tragedy on several occasions. But still... Virgil kept staring at a pretty blond smiling from the holoscreen.

"That gotta be illegal!"

"Only if I get caught."

Turquoise eyes twinkled in nothing remotely resembling remorse. He still didn't cut off the call.

"Do you wanna come down here for the weekend?"

Virgil suddenly felt the need to have more brothers accounted for and within reach. There was hope in the way John actually gave it a thought.

"Only if you don't make me go to the opera. I ordered you pizza, by the way."

A wave of warmth washed over Virgil and he tightened the grip on Scott's frame instinctively.

"You're my favoretest brother not asleep at the moment!"

He was graced with another eyeroll.

"You spend entirely too much time around Gordon. I'll have Eos screen the calls and land the elevator on the Tower tomorrow evening, your time, if there's no major catastrophe."

Virgil resisted the urge to fistpupm in the air. Definitely too much time around Gordon. Another thought occurred to him as he remembered a detail John mentioned when vetting the unsuspecting compassionate barrista.

"Hey, John! Could you..."

"Right ahead of you, brother. An anonymous donation was made to the homeless shelter and free kitchen an hour ago."

And they said Virgil and Scott were uncanny telepathic. Then again, it was to be expected. Anyone who was genuinely kind and considerate to their favorite Idiot, or attempted to course-correct his destruction path, inadvertently gained a lifelong ally in every one of them. Maybe he really needed to nudge Scott to go get more of the good coffee tomorrow. Equipped with an umbrella that time around.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #and gets one #scott tracy needs a cuff up his head #virgil tracy #did sign up for this #earth and sky #john tracy didn't sign up for this #earth and star #tracy brotherdom of love #my fic #thunderbirds 2015 #methinks i have astronomy

[tasam1075]

Search Abandoned

Jeff put the latest FBI report concerning his son's disappearance on his desk after reading the contents in dismay.

After almost six months of fruitless searches the FBI believed that there was no longer any real chance of finding Scott alive and they should be looking for his body instead.

His watch and other belongings, including blood-stained clothing, had been found, scattered across four states but no other trace of Scott had ever been discovered.

Lady Penelope, along with every IR agent, had been unable to find any trace of Scott.

The latest update from her was full of her frustration at the inability of her sources to locate any sign of Scott, she firmly believed that they should have found something by now.

The FBI had already scaled back their efforts, ready to call the search off.

Jeff wasn't ready to give up on his son but he didn't know what else he could do, where else could they look?

How was he supposed to tell everyone that the FBI now believed that Scott was dead, they would hopefully find his body eventually, that it was now a murder investigation rather than a missing person.

Maddie and Virgil were both blaming themselves for Scott being taken even though they couldn't have known what was going happen when Scott and Virgil left the hotel that evening, both ordered to take a break by their respective partners.

Only Imogen and Valerie, the twins whose early arrival had been caused by the stress of events, were giving them both a reason to carry on day after day.

Chloe, who now stayed close to her beloved Aunt-Bec, had the rest of her uncles reading with her, whenever IR requirements allowed them to do so.

Even John had been on the island for the entire time that Scott had been missing.

Five was on automatic, monitored by Brains, so John could fly Thunderbird 1 and act as Field Commander, a role that he excelled at even if it wasn't his preferred position.

Jeff knew that they would have to make other changes, Five had never been intended to be remotely operated for a prolonged period of time but they may have no choice.

He decided that he would tell the rest of the family about the latest news after the evening meal, once the children were safely in bed.

That discussion did not go well. Rebecca, Scott's heavily pregnant fiancee, broke down and had to be comforted by Maddie and Tintin.

Along with Grandma they escorted Rebecca to her room, not before notifying Jeff that someone would stay with her overnight.

Jeff was relieved that Becky wouldn't be alone, the last thing that anyone needed was another, stress induced, early delivery.

Scott's brothers wanted to drop everything and take over the search themselves, not wanting to stop until they'd found Scott, even shutting IR down.

Jeff, although he agreed with his sons' sentiment, knew that they couldn't do that. It was a heartbreaking decision to make but he knew that there was no choice, IR had to continue even if it meant that the active search for Scott had to be stopped.

It wasn't until John pointed out that Five could be running continual searches for any mention of Scott automatically, without any detrimental effects on IR operations, and that Penny would still have all agents looking for any clues that the others relented.

IR would continue operations, the search for Scott scaled down but never abandoned.

Two days later the FBI publicly announced that the search for Scott Carpenter Tracy, eldest son of billionaire Jefferson Tracy, had been downgraded and the investigation was now classed as a murder inquiry, despite the fact that no body had ever been found.

The Tracy family, publicly, declined to comment on the decision.

****************************************************************** "

All the chapters that I've posted here belong to the same fic.

I'm seriously stuck on the next two scheduled chapters - the characters will not talk to me.....

#thunderbirds fanfiction #wip wednesday

[greywake]

I went with "underwater" and "carefully". I blame @gumnut-logic 😁

AO3 link if anyone prefers

A Little Curiosity is a Dangerous Thing

“Virgil, dear, have you seen Turbo?”

He blinked in surprise at his grandmother’s question, “No, actually.”

Sally nodded, a worried frown tugging at her brows, “She’s never missed dinner before…”

He rose from his piano stool and strode over to his father’s desk, activating the holo display and inputting the command to locate the transponder on the kitten’s collar. A steady blink of blue indicated that she was near one of the beaches on the southern side of the island.

“I’ll go and get her, Grandma. Don’t worry. She’s probably climbed a tree and got stuck.”

“Be careful, dear.”

Virgil smiled and nodded acknowledgement of the family matriarch’s command before heading out of the house. He paused to grab a length of climbing rope just in case the bundle of mischief had got herself into a particularly awkward position.

Walking briskly along the trail in deference to the westering sun, he hummed to himself as he slung the rope over his shoulder and stuck his hands in his pockets. That kitten… she had certainly kept life on Tracy island interesting in the month since he’d found her hiding in an engine compartment in Thunderbird Two. She had adopted him almost immediately, happily spent time with Grandma, Kayo, and Brains, tolerated Scott and Alan, and apparently delighted in torturing Gordon. John apparently required study and was currently on probation pending her approval.

Rounding the bend in the path, he double-checked his phone for her location and hurried forward, eyes scanning the trees ahead for signs of a small black kitten in a tree. He frowned, concern growing as he could see no evidence of the animal. The sun would disappear below the horizon in a bit under an hour and finding Turbo in the dark would be next to impossible.

With time against him, he called for help, “John, have you got a minute?”

The image of his space-bound brother appeared hovering over his phone screen, “How can I help?”

Virgil grimaced, “Turbo’s missing. Her transponder’s pinging at this location but I can’t find her anywhere and I’m losing light.”

John nodded and trained Thunderbird Five's powerful sensors on the island.

"Virgil, she's not in a tree. She's below you."

He bit back an expletive. "The sea cave?"

His brother nodded, concern writ plain on his blue-tinted face, "And the tide is already more than halfway in."

“Better move fast then.” He cut the connection and hurried down the steep path to the currently submerged beach. He paused a little way above the high tide mark, tore off his boots and socks, then secured the rope he'd thought to bring around a convenient rock. He looped the other end around his own waist to act as an anchor against the current and took the first step into the water.

Damn, it was cold! Not like the reef-protected waters of the lagoon, sun-warmed and crystal clear. This was the ocean and she didn't care about being warm enough for an evening swim.

Gritting his teeth against the water temperature, Virgil waded, hip-deep, into the mouth of the cave. It wasn't a particularly big one, but it burrowed pretty deep into the bluff and he just hoped that Turbo hadn't climbed in further than he could go.

Wishing that he had his shoulder-mounted torch with him, he stuck his penlight in his mouth to free up his hands as the water reached his waist. The little circle of light played around the stone walls of the cave as he moved deeper in, working to keep his balance against the regular push-pull of the tide. One particularly large wave nearly knocked him off his feet as it surged past and a moment later there was a distressed squeal up ahead.

Fumbling the torch from his mouth, he shone it in the direction of the sound and caught the flash of Turbo’s eyes reflecting the light back around ten metres ahead of him. He couldn’t help but smile as he spotted her, especially when she meowed at the sight of him.

Trying to take advantage of the forward push of the water, Virgil surged forwards, closing the distance until he could reach the kitten.

She was soaked to the skin, making her seem even smaller than usual, shivering, and had managed to perch herself on a tiny ledge which was alarmingly close to being submerged by the incoming tide.

Virgil reached out to her, talking gently to try and soothe her distress and persuade her to let him pick her up. He need not have worried.

As soon as his hand was in range, the bedraggled kitten leapt at him and clawed her way over his sleeve to reach her preferred perch on his shoulder.

He winced at the needles sticking into his skin through the wet flannel but was more than happy to follow the imperious command mewed into his ear. If that wasn’t an instruction to get out he didn’t know what was.

Returning the penlight to his mouth, he hauled on the rope to help bring them both through the now chest-high water and back to the entrance. It was exhausting work, fighting against the tide and the cold, but it was nothing he couldn’t manage when it meant saving both himself and the sodden kitten on his shoulder.

Back out of the cave and onto solid land, Virgil swiftly untied the rope from its anchor point, grabbed his boots, and jogged barefoot back to the villa with Turbo complaining with every bounce.

Seeing the lights of the house, with Grandma silhouetted in the open doorway brought a smile to his face.

A smile that grew even broader when he reached her and she bundled Turbo into a warm towel.

“You, go clean up while I give this little one a nice bath to warm her up after her ordeal.”

The kitten chirped and stared adoringly up at the family matriarch before turning back to Virgil and blinking at him slowly.

He grinned as he headed up to his rooms to shower.

That cat was trouble but he couldn’t ever regret the day that she decided to adopt him.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #prompts #fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2023

[dotthings]

Some thoughts on John in TW 1.06. I am going to make Star Wars references. It cannot be helped.

Lata and Matt are both John mirrors in this ep, and represent the two paths John could go down.

John is currently getting frequently lost in the violence. Lata already broke clear of her downspiral, and represents hope of how people can escape it (at least at times, although as I said in my post about Lata, I’m a little worried about her, if she picks up a machete and kills monsters).

John, your John is showing again, like, a lot.

It’s not just the violence, it’s the tunnel vision, the obsessiveness, the refusal to compromise, the wanting it done his way. You can see glimpses here of the future in how he’ll treat his sons while he escapes into hunting as a way to deal with his grief for Mary. While he will sacrifice everything including his children’s well being for hunting. Was it really about grief for Mary? Or was it the only way John could endure the pain, anger, hurt, that was already inside of him for a long time.

And I think this series has hit a pattern on it. With the signs of how he will break later showing amid John’s better nature, John’s empathy, John’s bravery and kindness, but we know he doesn’t escape the cycle. We can see how he is capable of listening and is reachable though.

This is also the 2nd time an ep ends up with John seeking out Lata, being mindful of Lata, after the hunt’s over. He also this time asks Lata for help. John and Lata's friendship is very very soft. (Again, this makes me fearful for Lata, John's polar opposite mirror).

Who had John Winchester learning how to meditate on their bingo card, not me.

This isn’t an alt John, or a “better” version of John’s history. This is the real story, the truth, and it’s more complicated than we, the audience knew, or Sam and Dean knew growing up. Dean’s unfolding that full history.

Maybe the groundwork on the reasons John doesn’t get entirely lost are being laid out here as much as its mapping his downspiral. Millie and the monster club, all are part of the love and support John gets. He is capable of pulling out of it, or we wouldn’t have 1973 John or 1978 John on the mothership, and we never would have seen at least the glimpses in modern day John his capacity for love.

He would just be wholly lost and all dark, with good still in him somewhere, but John didn't slide down so far he completely lost himself. We’re seeing on The Winchesters John spiraling downward but also growing--and those two things can co-exist. We know there were problems before Mary died, it was never perfect, but it was Mary dying burning on the ceiling makes him snap hard, the progress got lost, and that was the start of a deeper downspiral.

I’ve made the Anakin comparison about John a bunch of times and The Winchesters is a similar portrait of a good human who downspiraled but John isn’t actually an Anakin figure. Older John’s Anakin who went off the rails with grief and revenge but didn't go full Vader. Think of a broken Anakin raising Luke and Leia while on a revenge obsessed path to take out Palpatine. Not choosing the darkside, but letting in a lot of the darkness inside of himself. And the trauma that still might ensue for Luke and Leia being raised like that. While poor Obi-Wan argues with John, for the good of John's kids, and they finally have a big falling out over it. Wow okay thank you for that Star Wars AU prompt, The Winchesters.

John gets possessed by the ghost of Matt the dark John mirror. A hunter who downspiraled almost fully into darkness. His friends were terrified of him and he grew too powerful. Matt is the Anakin figure here. Matt went sith, messing with dark magic, but still had good in him, he responds to Lata's pleas to set John free and to Tracy's tearful regrets.

#The Winchesters #spnwin #spnwin meta #John Winchester #John meta #The Winchesters spoilers

[fallenfurther]

Homecoming - Anticipation

Chapter 5 - Jeff comes back home and Alan is unsure of how he feels

Chapters 1 , 2 , 3 and 4.

I really enjoyed exploring how Alan would feel about Jeff being back as he would have missed a big chunk of his life. I hope you enjoy the snippets in this.

*******

Sally enjoyed the moment as she signed her son out of the rehabilitation centre. It was only for the weekend, but it was his first weekend home and she was going to make the most of it. Everyone was eager. John was heading down as they spoke, EOS being left in charge of Thunderbird Five, though John was sure to check in with her now and again. Jeff had progressed so well over the past few months and had surpassed all the doctors’ expectations that they were talking about his treatment becoming outpatient based in a few months. The idea of Jeff being back where he belonged, in the house he'd built, was a dream come true. Every mother wanted their son close, but after having him so far away, Sally was finding it hard not being near him. Turning to her son, the grin on her face widened. Jeff Tracy stood tall in his favourite flamingo shirt and jeans.

"Let's go home," Sally spoke, as she slipped her arm around Jeff's and grabbed the crutch that had been leaning against the wall. He may think he can walk around the facility without one, but the island villa was much bigger and had very few places to rest along the way. The black chauffeured car waited for them and took them to the private airport where Sally had landed Tracy One.

*****

Alan sat, swinging his legs from the gangway above the cavern where they kept the civilian aircraft, if you could call two private jets and a couple of old planes civilian. One of the 'old planes' was the bi-plane which Grandma had flown around the world in, once upon a time, with Grandad as company. When he was younger, Grandma would tell him her travel stories at bedtime, though he always preferred Dad's space adventures. It was the plane she had taught Dad to fly in so many years ago. It no longer flew, its engine long rusted together and although both Virgil and Brains had offered to mend, replace or upgrade it, she'd always refused. It now sat beneath a dust sheet. He'd once gone searching for her when his brothers had all been busy and found her crying in it. He'd been a teenager and just backed out slowly, not wanting to disturb her. At least he now understood why she kept it.

He lay his hands along the bar and rested his chin on them, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the cavern. At some point Tracy One would return, and Dad would be back amongst them, even if it was only for a short time. Alan didn't know how to feel. He was getting on with Dad at the facility and when they chatted online, but would it be the same on the island? The atmosphere was already changing, buzzing with excitement, but Alan was more observant than they give him credit for. He'd seen Scott tidy up Dad's desk and carry his things back to his own study. He'd also seen the same brother sitting with a whiskey late at night with that look on his face. Something was troubling Scott, and that worried Alan. Scott had been Alan's rock for the past eight years, the one he went to for advice. The family dynamic was changing again. Alan wanted to believe it would be a good thing, that things would be better than they were before. He'd wanted Dad back so much, just like his brothers, but maybe that was only because he was forgetting. He'd forgotten things and it had scared him. Now it was the idea of having Dad back that scared him.

Alan glanced down at his dangling feet, not bothered in the slightest by the drop beneath. This was his spot, where he had sat waiting for Scott to come home from business meetings and Gordon from WASP training. When Scott hadn't been the one to fly Kayo and himself home from boarding school, his oldest brother would wait a little further down the gangway. Scott would be leaning against the top rail and smiling down at him as he exited the plane. Alan had hated being away, and after Gordon's WASP accident he'd managed to convince Scott to let him be home-schooled. Alan didn't know if Gordon had told Dad about that yet. He was only meant to have passed basic training but the hydrofoil project he had been part of was almost complete, so Gordon had decided to spend a few extra months at WASP to see it to the end. The crash had almost ended Gordon's life, and Alan had been called home from school. He and Gordon had always been close and Alan had wanted to be by his side as he recovered. Scott had finally relented.

Alan sighed, resting his cheek against the cool metal. The metallic clang of footsteps bouncing along the gangway announced Gordon's arrival. Alan smiled at his brother, who slipped his feet over the railing Alan had his face against, shaking it slightly as he planted his bottom on it. Alan leant back so he could look up at Gordon.

"Ready for Dad to return?"

The grin on Gordon's face matched the excitement that leaked from his brother. Yet Alan could see the nervous twitching in his cheek, that gave away what he was really feeling.

"Of course, are you?"

Gordon turned from him with a slight air of sheepishness.

" ’course I am."

Gordon sighed, his gaze turned down toward the ground below them. His demeanour shifted. His shoulders slumped like they were weighed down by extra gravity.

"Penelope's going to get here any minute, and she wants to tell Dad about us."

"Oh, but that's a good thing though. It means she really likes you."

"I know, it's just. You wouldn't understand. Dad's always, I guess, I feel like Dad's always expected less of me."

Alan didn't understand. He struggled to remember how his own relationship with Dad went, let alone how it was for Gordon. Both brothers stared down at the floor in silence. So many words left unsaid between them, yet neither one was ready to be completely honest. The sounds of a familiar motor vehicle had Gordon up and down the gangway in a shot. FAB 1 pulled into its spot and Gordon was at its side, waiting for Parker to release Lady Penelope. It was Sherbet that darted out first, jumping against Gordon's legs. Gordon's laughter echoed as he scooped up the pug before pulling Lady Penelope in for a kiss. Alan wanted to make a yuck face but held back, knowing how long Gordon had liked Lady Penelope. Alan had teased Gordon enough about it over the years that he knew retaliation would come. From his perch, he watched Parker’s back stiffen at the sight of the kiss, the chauffeur still not convinced by the pairing. The three of them moved away from the car, towards the wall, Parker’s arms full with Penelope’s luggage. Voices drifted up from below but Alan wasn’t paying them much attention, his mind mulling over Gordon’s words. Gordon had never admitted being nervous before, and for it to be about Dad too. Gordon had grown up just as much as he had over the last eight years, so maybe he too was unrecognizable from the teenager Dad had left behind. They had been catching up with Dad in their own way, so Alan had no idea what his brother’s current relationship with their father was like. Was it strained?

Footsteps echoed along the gangway and Alan turned to see the rest of his brothers approaching. With their appearance Alan knew Grandma and Dad were close. Alan pulled his legs up and stood, one hand on the rail.

“You alright there, sprout?” Scott asked, his hand falling on Alan’s left shoulder with a squeeze.

“Yeah, just waiting.”

Alan smiled, trying to hide the butterflies that were dancing inside him. Scott's hand was reassuring, its warmth a reminder of the many times Scott had comforted him over the years. The low rumble of jet engines echoed through the cavern and they all turned. Scott threw his arm over Alan’s shoulder and guided him down the stairs with his brothers. As they reached the bottom, the arm fell and his brothers seemed to bound ahead towards Tracy One’s bay. Even the usually calm and collected John had a skip in his step, and Alan hadn’t seen Scott this excited in years. One of Alan’s earliest memories was of the day Scott had left for the Air Force. Alan had cried in his Grandma’s arms, not wanting his big brother to go, but Scott had been so excited that day. Gordon had said losing Mum had been tough on everyone, but particularly Scott, who’d stepped up when their Dad was consumed with grief. There had been a bounce in Scott’s step in the lead up to leaving. Grandma had rocked Alan, telling him Scott had to go, that he was an adult and that’s what adults did. Alan had just wanted his big brother to stay. Grandma had recounted that Alan had slept in Scott’s bed the next few nights. Alan had cleared memories of his brother after his first flight in Thunderbird One. The young man had the biggest grin on his face and had ruffled Alan’s hair while chuckling, muttering about going faster. That sat alongside the memories of Thunderbird Three being constructed. Dad had made an exception and taken him down to the hanger to see it. Alan had been in awe of the robotic arms and platforms that surrounded the half-built rocket. Leaning against the cavern wall were the large bright red panels waiting to enclose the rocket. Wide eyed, Alan had started hopping eagerly, which resulted in a hearty chuckle from his father. Apparently Scott had been the same with Thunderbird One. Thanks to Scott, Alan could still remember the weight of his father’s hand as he knelt down and looked him in the eye to tell him that it would be years until he would be able to go into space in Thunderbird Three. That Alan would have to go to college and pass all the space requirements before Dad would train him to fly the rocket.

Except Dad never did. Scott and John had shown him the controls and taken him on his first trip to space. Alan suspected they were unaware of Dad’s rules when they started to train him, not that Alan was going to tell them. He’d spent years watching his brothers flying out onto rescues and he wanted to pull his weight. Simulations and early space training meant he was able to start flying the red rocket at age fifteen under supervision. No need for a college degree. He took the title of youngest member of International Rescue from Gordon. Dad had mentioned his schooling to him a few times since being back, and the option of college, but Alan had always changed the subject. He’d had to admit to Dad that he’d passed his high school diploma to get him off his back, but he still hadn’t told his brothers, though he was sure they must know. John, at least, always knew everything. With the return of Dad the topic of his lessons just hadn’t come up and that was the way Alan wanted it to stay.

The plane entered the cavern as Scott and Virgil started manoeuvring the steps towards the bay. The stairs were completely autonomous with sensors that not only guided them into the correct place without human aid, but would also move back to their docking station automatically when requested to. It was just quicker to push them. Gordon, Parker and Penelope joined them as the plane continued to slow as it rolled into the bay. No one flinched as it inched closer, all trusting the veteran pilot who had done this many times. Once it had stopped, she waved down at them with a massive smile on her face. His eldest three brothers got the ramp into place, John guiding them from behind. When International Rescue first started, and their identities were still rather secret, the media had wondered how the team could work so efficiently as a team, though once it was revealed to be a family business, it made perfect sense. The brothers knew each other so well, understanding each other's strengths and weaknesses and how best to communicate. Alan remembered how it had been when he was first being integrated into the team. Now it was instinctual.

The media had talked so much about the new rescue organisation, and when he was at boarding school it was often the only way he got news about it. His brothers would only open up about International Rescue when he was home. It felt like scraps at the time. It was a secret he had kept, knowing that Scott and John were monitoring everything. He knew he would be in trouble if he told, and that it would put his family at risk. They had become more open with the media in recent years, still keeping their secrets, though now Dad was back the media’s focus was entirely on him and his return. Interviews had been demanded. The media would camp outside anywhere they thought Jeff was, hoping to grab a glimpse of him or to get just one word from the great astronaut. All asking the same questions. What would happen now? Will you take control of Tracy Industries? Will you lead International Rescue? Those questions had yet to be answered, because as a family, they hadn’t broached the subject.

The door of the plane opened and Grandma exited with her arm looped through Dad’s. They started to descend slowly, Grandma obviously moving at Dad’s pace. His free hand gripped the rail. It still shocked Alan just how frail his Dad seemed. It was a very different image to the powerful man he remembered. Once at the bottom of the stairs, his father pulled John and Virgil into a hug. Wiping away the tears that had come to his eyes, his father glanced around the cavern.

“How I’ve longed to return.”

“Well, keep up with your recovery and it’ll be permanent in a few months.”

Grandma smiled at her son, handing him the crutch that had been hooked in her elbow.

“Let’s get you upstairs, onto a sofa and we’ll get you a cold drink. I’ve already got your room sorted, all your clothes have been washed and are back in your wardrobe.”

“Thank you, Mum.”

Scott was the next one to be caught in a hug, then Gordon and finally Alan. It was a tight one-armed squeeze that had pressed Alan’s face into his father’s chest. Alan hugged back carefully, not wanting to squeeze him too hard. His Dad still felt so fragile. A few inhales brought a familiar strong scent that filled Alan’s mind with memories of Kansas and hugs goodbye. It was the same aftershave Dad had been wearing the last time he said goodbye, in front of his boarding school. Alan was released and Jeff stepped up to Penelope and Parker, the crutch thudding with each step.

“Good to see you well, Lady Penelope. I’ve heard you become an asset to International Rescue.”

Dad shook her offered hand, before raising it to his lips and giving it a quick kiss. Alan was a little taken back by the action but Penelope waved it away.

“No need for such formal formalities, Mr Tracy.”

“If you want no formalities, then call me Jeff. Not that your father ever did.”

Penelope smiled politely and nodded in response. Dad’s eyes fell on her chauffeur.

“Parker, you old dog. Good to see you’re still looking after young Penelope here.”

“I wouldn’t have it h’any other way, Mr Tracy, sir.”

The handshake between the two men was short but ended with an odd hug with a pat on the back. It struck Alan that he’d seen it before but had completely forgotten the way Dad would greet his friends. Another thing he could add to the things he’d forgotten.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #homecoming #alan tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy #sally tracy #grandma tracy #gordon tracy #feelings #emotions #uncertainty #angst #anticipation

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at Montreal Forum in Montreal, QC, Canada - July 21, 1982

(x)

Brian May would later recall Hot Space as a "failed attempt at doing funk properly." After listening particularly to side A of Hot Space, many North American fans saw Queen as having shifted from being leaders and trend-setters to being followers, and that they simply no longer rocked. However, the live band Queen (they always were essentially two different bands, as much of their music had to be rearranged to suit the live environment) still did rock, as the Hot Space material translated to the live environment very well. Tonight, and on this tour as a whole, the band put more energy into performing the newer material than the old.

Unlike past tours, most reviews of their concerts on the 'Rock N' America' Tour were very positive, often speaking of the technical aspects of the show. Indeed, Queen continued to be leaders in their stage presentation. The lighting rig had once again been upgraded and was state-of-the-art for the time. The light show worked to its maximum potential during Brian's guitar solo, providing dazzling effects in sync with certain bits of what he was playing.

American rocker Billy Squier would support Queen at every show on what would be their final tour of North America. Brian May would end up playing guitar on Billy's next album, a song called "(Another) 1984." Some people in the crowd booed Squier tonight, but generally speaking the reviews of his set on this tour were complimentary.

On keyboards, Morgan Fisher has been replaced by Fred Mandel. Fred would remain with the band for the rest of the year, and would also play piano on "Man On The Prowl" on Queen's next album, The Works. Interestingly enough, Freddie doesn't introduce Mandel at the first couple shows, while he introduced Morgan Fisher at every show in Europe.

They have dropped The Hero and wisely open with Rock It, as they are well aware of how successful The Game was on this side of the Atlantic. For this opening show of the tour, Queen would show their confidence in the new material by playing six songs from Hot Space.

Brian's opening night jitters kick in early as he begins the concert by playing Rock It in D instead of A. When Freddie sings the first line, he knows it's way too high, and says to Brian, "wrong key!" Brian then seamlessly switches to the arpeggiated A chord and then they get the show rolling. They play the song a key lower than the original probably to ensure Freddie sings it well every night. For much of the tour, the coda of Rock It merges into a brief snippet of the fast version of We Will Rock You. Action This Day follows, making this tour the only time they would effectively open the show with two Roger Taylor songs.

Somebody To Love appears only occasionally on this tour, and Love Of My Life wouldn't be played at all. Calling All Girls, however, has been introduced to the set, as it has recently been released as a single - the first Queen single penned by Roger Taylor. Although this song wouldn't bring them much success, Roger would write two massively successful songs in the next few years - Radio Ga Ga and A Kind Of Magic. The latter would be a number one hit in dozens of countries in 1986, making Queen the only band whose members all wrote a number one song.

Body Language is a huge hit on this side of the Atlantic, so the band feel it's right to use it as the first encore number. It definitely goes down well, unlike its brief stint in the setlist in Europe. They opt for a more concise version of the song without the first verse or the drawn-out ending. I have spoken with many people who saw Queen on this tour, many of whom didn't like much of the Hot Space album - but the common thread between them all was how great the new songs sounded on stage, particularly Body Language.

Megadeth/Eidolon drummer Shawn Drover attended this show, aged 16 at the time.

The show is comparatively shorter than on previous tours, as the band are on stage for about 90-95 minutes each night.

For the rest of 1982, Roger Taylor's bass drum skin would be of the artwork from his solo single My Country.

The first picture was submitted by Maxime Guay. The second one was taken by Tracy Runas.

(x)

Fan Stories

“Hey I forgot to mention...the stub is for rouge 47 loge J siege 9. I was visiting an army buddy on my way to Nova Scotia that lived in Montreal. We were just walking around old Montreal and up St. Catherine’s ave, as we neared the forum we saw this fellow dragging a portable sign out to the street. It said QUEEN concert tonight....tickets available (in French but it was to that affect), the guy said that the stage was all erected and lighting in place and the seats just became avail. I believe he said there were around 200 scattered seats in all. Also I pulled my stub back just as the usher tried to tear it, QUEEN appears in full lol.” - John Kennington

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

[soniabigcheese]

Fluffember 2021 - Whisper

"John?" "Uhhh." "John!"

He blinked away the fogginess of sleep, rubbed his eyes and sat up yawning.

"EOS," he scolded with another yawn, ""I thought I told you that once I'm asleep, not to wake me up. That's why I put you on the night watch. Remember?" "I get that," she responded, "but ..."

There was a pause, which had the back of John's neck prickling.

This did not bode well.

He swung his legs out of the small bed and went to stand up. EOS' main camera lens halted in front of him.

"Please explain to me about pranks. Are they safe?" "Uh ... "

Now was not the time to have this discussion, as little red flags were buzzing his brain awake.. His body had yet to catch up.

"Normally, why, what's up?" "I fear that both Gordon and Alan are in a bit of trouble ... they're not moving ... their heart rates are elevated ... and there's a large creature approaching."

His body quickly shrugged off the mantel of sleep and he made his way to the holosphere to investigate, quickly bringing up all the cameras surrounding Tracy Island.

Except one.

For some reason, all he got was static.

"Reroute the camera on Section 7 EOS." "I have tried, but there's no power." "Well, piggyback off another satellite then." "Isn't that illegal?" "Not right now EOS. Just do it, and alert the rest of Tracy Island. We might have an intruder."

Just then, Gordon's hologram popped up. It was independent of the security cameras, like all the rest of International Rescue.

"Hi there," he whispered, putting his finger to his lips.

The camera moved around and Alan waved back.

"Oh hey John! How's things?" "Alan, shush." "Oops, sorry."

The youngest Tracy's voice lowered to barely a whisper.

"We're here on a special mission and Gordon wanted a camera to record this event ... for posterity."

The camera swung around to reveal a large turtle, lumbering her way up onto the small strip of beach, her flippers slowly dragging her body along the sand.

"Isn't this amazing?" "It sure is."

Gordon reappeared, a big wide grin split across his face, excitement glowing in his eyes despite the surrounding darkness.

"I was just exploring the island for ideas for some pranks, when I found one set of trail marks."

A few slides appeared in front of John, impressions of something being dragged along the sand.

"I recognised it straightaway and knew that we have at least one turtle laying eggs right here. So I've been coming down here for a while, ever since ....."

He didn't have to explain, but the ghost of that wreckage of Thunderbird 4 hung in the air. During his recovery period, sometimes a swim wasn't stimulation enough, neither was bossing poor Parker around. And so he'd attempted exploring. Often flanked by Virgil or, heaven forbid ... smotherhen Scott.

But it had been Alan this time. His partner in crime. Who'd woken up during the night and was getting some milk, when he spotted Gordon wandering off.

"Oh, look Gordon!" "Shush ... what?" "I think she's laying her eggs now!"

Sure enough, just under some leafy vegetation, sand was being flung out and the large creature burrowed purposefully into the ground.

"Will there be any more turtles?" "Nope, I checked. She's way off her nesting grounds. Must have been thrown off course by that storm the other day. and it left her disoriented." "Well ... she'll be safe here. I'll make sure of that. Right?"

And with that, they signed off. John turned to EOS with a smile.

"We really need to turn down your danger alert a little okay?" "But their readings were elevated." "With excitement not fear. And they weren't in any danger. It was one turtle. She'll lay her eggs, bury them then return to the sea." "Oh. Sorry about that John. Goodnight."

He looked at her and rolled his eyes.

"Well ..." he began, pressing the button on his coffee machine, "since I'm awake, maybe we could play a game of chess?" "I'd like that John."

#thunderbirds are go #john tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #eos #fluffember2021 #whisper

[melmac78]

Of leather tooling and love

(Tag mini bang 2021)

Here’s my story for @tagminibang. I want to thank @tracybirds for their amazing art and working with me. Also, I thank them being extremely patient with learning about leather tooling and for adapting to the time zone difference to get this put together.

(I added my own art piece - “John’s” astronomy cuff… mark I, and will link directly to tracybirds’s art when I can fully figure this out).

•••••••

John Tracy was mad... so mad he was making an indelible mark that would take forever for someone to wipe away or cover up.

Fortunately it was leather, and he was tooling a design so no one would really want to cover it up, but he still was at points surprised he wasn't punching holes in the design… or the table.

A chirp however made him question the latter.

“John, please do not hit the table so hard. You are making my processors overload,” gently scolded EOS as the man was swinging the rawhide mallet.

While fortunately her interruption didn’t make him miss, allowing him to add to the octopus design, John set the leather tools down and sighed. “I’m sorry EOS,” he said gently.

“I accept your apology, but I do not understand why stamping cowhide will help your anger,” said the AI.

“As I said, it’s leather tooling, and it’s better to use my anger for something creative,” John said quietly.

“Even this … item?”

He looked at the cuff he was working on again and gave a half smile. “Even this wallet,” the astronaut chuckled.

After giving EOS a task to do, reminding her not to adjust the gravity back to zero to avoid any spills from his work, John looked at the project again.

He sighed, understanding his curious “data child’s” curiosity. Leather tooling, while a bit outdated in some people's eyes, was one of the few learned talents and gifts he still had from his Grandfather as well as his Dad.

And - it reminded him of Gordon, in good and bad times.

Gordon… his brother with the wacky sense of dress.

The aquanaut preferred to wear on average two leather bands and then a woven smaller band with the first two oyster pearls he found.

That's why he stopped - at the moment, it felt as though if he took out more anger on the mallet and metal stamping tool, he was hurting Gordon. Triple if he managed to hit it so hard it tore through the damp leather.

Who knew Gordon’s penchant for being the only one to wear leather wrist bands would save his life?

A week and a half prior... he chose to wear two broader bands on one arm and his usual one on his other.

They were nearly the width of a cuff, with designs that took forever to explain to EOS. It was an unusual decision, but one that the brothers were thankful Gordon made.

They had been called out to a rescue - a skyscraper fire in Houston, and all land based brothers had been called as it required high rise rescue.

Gordon had been on level 70 of the building, rescuing an unconscious woman. He had secured the victim in with his harness and started to use the pulley to get them to the top of the building for Thunderbird to lift them to safety.

An explosion had knocked them for a loop, smashing Gordon into the building.

Gordon took the brunt of the hit, slamming into the frame.

In spite of the helmet, he too was knocked out. Worse, the grapple slipped, and glass shards, still stuck in their mounts, sliced down his forearms.

It cut the neoprene... and through part of his thick leather cuffs.

When they recovered both victims, Virgil and John immediately triaged the two. She had a minor concussion and smoke inhalation.

Gordon however not only too had the bump on the head - thanks to the helmet taking the brunt, he also a dislocated shoulder, and a few cracked and broken ribs.

But what was the immediate concern at the time of the rescue was his arms, particularly the wrists. They took the brunt of the damage.

The leather bands however, saved his life. They made what would've been life threatening - if not fatal, slashes on his wrist to mostly superficial cuts.

The bands though were completely destroyed as far as wearability. Virgil would have to apologize for cutting them completely off - but not why - later.

Gordon was taken to a hospital in Houston's esteemed Medical Center, where he went through multiple surgeries, a few pints of blood, and lots of rest.

That was a week ago, as Gordon had a healing rib rebreak, nicking his lung. It was repaired, the bleeder stopped, but Gordon had to be put under sedation for a couple of days to ensure the site healed.

Though they had lifted the sedation the day prior and were waiting for Gordon to come out of it, the family would have to wait couple of days before he could return to Tracy Island.

That lead to where he was today.

John sighed, and looked around Thunderbird Five.

He had been practicing some leather tooling at University of Houston's art department.

That was before a space rescue needed both him and Alan, and afterword, he stayed on Five to keep apprised of a possible hurricane.

Well that and have an excuse to decline another lecture invite from NASA.

John was thankful that U of H understood his need for privacy, and that having a PhD in Aeronautics and Space allowed him some special favors.

The positive it included the use of one of the art studios to leather tool...

The negative? The trade off was as long as he also donated one of his famous astronomy tooled leather cuffs for a fundraiser.

He had already finished the band for the auction two days prior, complete with the antique leather dye, golden paint accents in the star constellations, and steampunk like swing hinge cuff. Not the easiest to make, especially setting the rivets for the cuff.

Worth it to John - small price to pay, but would reap rewards for U of H’s generosity. He’d bring it to them when he visited Gordon again.

The astronaut then looked at the octopus carved and stamped on the wallet. "It was too damn close," he said out loud, but at the same time, he was thankful. This was for Gordon later on.

John then smiled at the thought. It was indeed for his aquanaut brother, one they could’ve lost in that fire.

He was about to stamp the leather again... when a beep startled him.

The astronaut asked EOS to answer it, and the image of Virgil came out of the monitor.

"Gordon's come to," said Virgil.

"Fully?"

The older brother shrugged. "Mostly, but he should be fully alert by the time you get to the hospital," he said, then frowned. "He's asking about the leather bands... especially the one that was 'Mom's belt'."

John furrowed his brow.

Yes, that belt bracelet.

Fortunately the one bracelet Gordon hadn't worn that day.

Unfortunately, the one Gordon duplicated - with varying degrees of success, he did wear nearly daily.

John could imagine Gordon’s initial reaction… he’d feel the same way.

"Virgil, Gordon didn't wear that cuff that day," he said. "He intentionally put a small Thunderbird stamp on his so he didn't confuse the two."

Virgil nodded. "I know, but you know him and anesthetics... gives him the wrong memory if he's not goofy from it," he said, then chuckled. “Last time he was trying to feed Parker poster pancakes on the USS Lexington.”

John scoffed at the memory. "That one still has Parker perplexed," he said, then stood, stretching. "Try to talk him down from his confusion. I'll be there in a few minutes. I need to get something."

Virgil noticed John’s labors on the table and quirked an eyebrow. "What about the wallet you're working on?"

"It'll be fine. The leather can be dampened again to finish it up. I expected it to be a longer project over the bracelets I made at U of H,” he said, putting the stamping tool and mallet down.

The artist noticed John’s attempt to deflect, and his eyes twinkled in mischief. "So… how many projects did the University ‘con’ you out of for the auction this time?" said the artist with a teasing smirk.

He wasn't going to give his younger brother too much grief - he still owed the University at least one hand blown glass vase.

"Just the one - the astronomy cuff."

Virgil gave a soft whistle. "That one? You won't even make that one for me."

"Then bid on the one they're selling," snarked John as he cleaned up the rest of the leather tooling supplies.

Virgil merely laughed - yeah, he was going to bid if anything to help a department who helped his brother cope through this.

John then picked up a box wrapped in sea turtle wrapping paper. "I'll be there shortly,” he said walking to the space elevator.

“FAB.”

********

Gordon Tracy looked out the windows of his hospital room from his hovering hospital bed and signed.

He was thankful he wasn't stuck with a view of the generators. The hospital still hadn't gotten over teasing him - gently - about calling them "Donald Duck" in a post-anesthesia comment the other time he was there for an injury.

Here, it was a view of one of the garden parks the area had.

What he wasn't thankful for was the fact he lost the leather band that was made from his mother's belt.

He looked at the long bandages wrapped on his wrists and lower arms and sighed.

Sure, Virgil kept insisting it was not the band, but he knew his bracelets.

Yes, he had to admit they had to be fully cut off too keep him from bleeding out through his wrists - he knew one cut was still too close.

Still though... he had to concede if it was gone, it was his mother protecting him.

Even Scott had told him point blank it was the only time he was thankful Gordon had forgotten to take the bands off.

Rumor had it Scott was even considering consulting with Brains to create leather arm bracers.

His theory was if it worked for the cowboys in the 1800s and 1900s, why not the technological cowboys of today?

Gordon looked at the sky and smiled. "Thanks Mom for watching over both that woman and me," he said, then looked at the bands.

There were blood stains on them, which were not going to come out.

Sure, they could be dyed dark before being stored, most likely black, and he could have John help him there. That said, it was not going to matter when they had been made unwearable when Virgil cut them off.

There were the button and hole fixtures sure... but the aquanaut understood Virgil was going to slice first, apologize for saving Gordon's life later.

Blood loss didn’t wait for bracelets.

A knock at the door shook him out of his thoughts. "Come in," he said, adjusting the bed to where it floated back to connect with the main vitals scanner.

John entered and smiled at seeing his alert brother, the first time he'd been fully awake since before the accident.

"Hi Gordon, how are you feeling," he said, wincing slightly at the cliche.

His fish loving brother just smiled, but the astronaut didn't miss the sadness in the cinnamon colored eyes. "I'm having a whale of a time... too bad the lake below probably only has ducks," he said, chuckling slightly.

“Must be going ‘quackers’ then,” joked John, only to watch as Gordon fiddled with the remains of the bracelets. John coughed. "Gordon..."

"I know. They had to be cut off in order to save my life," the aquanaut said, sighing. "It's just... this was mom's - look at the paisley here..."

John put his hand over both his younger brother's and smiled. "It isn't the one made with Mom's belt, trust me,” he said, smiling, then pointing to a detail. "See? Here's the thunderbird stamp you used for yours."

Gordon took a closer look, and his eyes widened slightly.

John was right... it was indeed there, just had been cut in half by the cutting tools. Well he hoped so and not the glass, but that was a story left unsaid at the time.

"It's not mom's," the aquanaut whispered instead, tears of happiness flooding his eyes.

The astronaut smiled and gave his brother a gentle hug. "No it isn't. I made sure the one with Mom's was in the fire safe - just in case, on the Island before Alan brought me to the hospital," he said gently.

The two hugged gently for a while, the mix of hospital bluster and soothing sounds from the Muzak in the hallways mingling between the brother's hushed tones.

After a few minutes, Gordon sat up, and noticed the sea turtle box his brother was holding. "Funny looking NASA paper," the aquanaut teased, chuckling softly when John rolled his eyes.

He knew John tried to avoid the facility if possible.

Not because he didn't enjoy it, but because the last time he visited the center, Mission Control crowded him the point he fainted from the social claustrophobia.

Alan found it amusing.

EOS found it amusing to force Alan to eat freeze dried brussel sprouts and liver with onions meals every day his last rotation on Thunderbird Five for his "rude behavior."

Both men chuckled in the memory, and John handed his brother the box. "Nope, this is for you, a get well soon present," said he said.

Gordon carefully opened up the box, which John had purposely wrapped the two parts separately due to the shoulder being strapped, and gasped.

Inside were two bracelets.

One was similar to his mother's belt, but the paisley and flower design that was in his mom's band was adjusted slightly to include southwestern printed sea turtles and a squid stamp John had custom made. Like his mother's, it was dyed a medium brown.

The other... took Gordon's breath away.

The edges were done in a simple border - scalloped with the occasional octopus and sea turtle stamp in between the scallops. It was dyed mahogany.

It was mostly just border stamped... because the concho fastened in the center was the showstopper.

It was a golden sea turtle, swimming in the middle of a pewter center. “How?…”

Seeing Gordon's eyes water, John chuckled. "Yes, I remembered that concho. Had trouble finding it, but fortunately the store on the Sam Houston Tollway found one and put it aside for me," he said as he put a hand on his brother's uninjured shoulder.

Gordon put the box down and wiped away the tears with his good hand. "Got a bit of hand sanitizer in my eyes. Strong stuff," he said, and John scoffed.

"Yeah, sure... you want me to help put it on your … good wrist?" John said, and coughed when Gordon shot the arm out. "Whew... you weren't kidding on the hand sanitizer,” he laughed, waving the fumes away.

"Yeah... apparently it's 'essense of moonshine' I think. It probably kills germs 10 years before they’re born," Gordon smirked.

The bands fit perfectly, and had a simple button and hole fastener so the doctors or even Gordon could take it off with a push if needed.

John watched his brother admire the bracelet, even taking a few photos of the laughs and chuckles his brother made as he showed it off.

Gordon then paused and looked at John. "You made these right?" he inquired, looking at the antiqued looking band.

The astronaut nodded, and Gordon continued, grinning slightly in memory. "How many bands did the University get you to make in exchange for the use of the studio this time?"

"One - and before you ask, the astronomy one,” John said, touching a button on his baldric to ensure EOS didn’t talk about the wallet. She still had a proclivity to ruin surprises - especially if it was one of John’s younger siblings.

Gordon, knowing how much money usually got raised to but one of these bands, looked at the bands and then John. "Worth every cent," he said, smiling warmly as the nurse came in to check Gordon's vitals and bring dinner.

John took this as a note to head out, but before he left, he looked at his brother, who was bragging about the bracelet his older brother made.

And making it very clear how to take it on and off so this one was not cut off.

The astronaut gave a gentle wave to his brother. "I'll be back later," he said, and headed out.

Hearing the chuckles Gordon made again, John's smile broadened. "Yes, it was worth every single minute and cent to hear that laughter," John murmured, but it was priceless to have his brother saved by those other bands.

Now... how he was going to steal the remnants of the old bands to repurpose into a hippie cuff for Gordon was another story

#tag mini bang 2021 #tracybirds #john tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #tag fanfic #tag fanfiction

[edutainer2022]

In commemoration of that time, recently, when I delivered a conference keynote in a ridiculous o'clock timezone, after having been up and neck deep in other energy draining university commitments for three days straight on four hours of sleep at best, here's a little thing. I couldn't remember what I was talking about the minute the presentation ended. Scott Tracy is a public speaker extraordinaire on bingo sleep and adrenaline overdose. His brothers are worried and have to think on their feet. Special thanks to @astranite for nudging my muse in this direction.

AUTOPILOT

The trick was to get him off the stage. Scott Tracy, the Tracy Industries CEO, giving an opening keynote at the New Frontiers Expo had been scheduled a year in advance (involving the program committee begging on hands and knees for a year prior, Scott's annual commitments shuffling, some major security concessions, up to and including Kayo's team practically taking over the venue security altogether, as well as meeting a hard line of excluding any tech associated with Langstrom Fischler from the exhibits or conference talks).

Nobody could predict a mine collapse and Scott Tracy, the Commander of IR and Thunderbird One, being involved on site for the past thirty six hours (a good portion of that time spent underground without sleep).

The family medics' quorum, in full agreement with the family extended quorum, voted for canceling his public appearance and putting him on mandated rest. For a week. But Scott Tracy gave his word. So Scott Tracy gave his talk.

As keynotes go it was a huge success. Scott was passionate, funny and inspired, engaging the audience with dimples, moving personal touches and heartfelt convictions. The listeners were just about ready to "boldly go" wherever Scott would lead the way to a better, technologically enhanced and kinder tomorrow.

They divided forces in case the predictable worse actually came to pass. Virgil was behind the podium with a med kit and med scanner at hand. Gordon unironically got a tranq gun, which earned him a side-eye, but knowing Scott it might as well come handy.

John was in the audience, vigilant and listening to the keynote (and rather enjoying biggest brother public speaking prowess - seriously, how did Scott do it, half-dead on his feet?), ready to step up and take over if need be. That wouldn't be what the hundreds of Expo attendees payed and donated to R&D funds for, but they'd be getting A Dr. Tracy, at least, if The Mr. Tracy collapsed mid-sentence.

That was just the problem at the moment. Scott didn't. He concluded the speech, got a standing ovation, and was now just sort of hanging out on stage, swaying slightly. It was obvious he was running on dregs of fumes of an adrenaline high, refusing to crash on sheer willpower. It was also obvious Scott was completely unfocused and unaware where he was and what he'd been doing the minutes prior. The brilliant blue eyes were getting telltale glassy.

John had a FRANTIC Virgil booming in his earpiece. The public spotlight made the logistics of what needed to happen next tricky: they couldn't just drag him off the podium in a firefighter hold or tranq him - and spoil the profound impression of the speech; they also couldn't wait much longer till Scott fainted in front of everyone (and possibly injured himself by the fall). John was half on his way up to try and steer Scott bodily off the stage. Gordon would have been a better man for the job - dressing the thing up with a quip and some theatrics, but the Fish was still in uniform. IR on site, crashing the keynote, might have set off unwelcome panic, dangerous in a crowded space.

In the end, it was still Gordon's out-of-the-box thinking that saved the situation. They could all hear a boy's voice through their earpieces - Alan went for the highest littlest-brother-in-distress pitch he could master:

"Scotty, could you come here? I'm right behind you! Scotty, please!"

Scott could hear it too. A less exhausted brain would have remembered Allie was on the island still. They agreed Scott would take him the next day on a tour around the Expo and to several talks the kid wanted to attend.

But Scott's bandwidth capacity at the moment was reduced to the most rudimentary parent-brain instincts. So he started slightly, turned on his heel and marched backstage. It took a bit of flailing to placate a wild-eyed Scott that a) Allie wasn't in danger; b) Allie wasn't there immediately available for inspection and protecting from danger.

It came as close as Gordon clicking the safety off the tranq gun. But finally, the blue eyes stopped searching the perimeter behind Virgil's shoulder and rolled back. Scott slumped as a ragdoll in Virgil's hold.

John rushed to join the brothers the moment he heard Alan on comms. In between the three of them they settled the Commander on a hoverstrecher. Virgil insisted on a quick scan on the spot. Nothing more serious beyond bruises, exhaustion, stress and dehydration. Small mercies. Every single one of them had a private itemized inventory of possible injuries Scott might have "forgotten" to mention in order to be cleared for the keynote commitment.

Kayo's security team were clearing the path for them, off the Expo busy routes, to leave for Thunderbird Two discretely.

John lingered to brush the fringe off Scott's now noticeably pale forehead. His original intent was to go straight back to orbit after the biggest brother was sorted out. But now, there was no way Grandma or Virgil would let Scott out of the infirmary for the next forty eight hours at least. Nor would Virgil let biggest brother out of his sight for at least twice as long after. So it would fall to John to take Alan to the Expo and show the boy around.

John didn't favor crowded bustling places on a good day, but it was crucial not to disappoint or worry the kid. Scotty unconscious, sedated and grounded would have him anxious enough. It was also a great bonding opportunity with the baby-brother and a way to lift a bit of weight off Scott's shoulders. John knew biggest brother enough to foresee he'd beat himself up for succumbing to weakness and letting Alan down. John couldn't have that. So he landed a hand for support on Gordon's shoulder and all together they started the way home.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a break #john tracy #john tracy didn't sign up for this #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #and thinks fast #alan tracy #features briefly #john tracy is a good brother #methinks i have astronomy #my fic #thunderbirds 2015 #tracy brotherdom of love

[cp-stories]

The Church

story by CP

Pre-chapter

Assignment So today is our 1st anniversary. I am writing this paper as instructed by our leader for you, our great prophet. Please forgive me. I have never done this before, but the Pastor said it's what we guys do when we have a successful marriage. While I write, my wife is out, probably until late tonight. She is getting her "temp witnessing pass" updated with many of the Elders. Which to me seems a little redundant because she sees a different Elder every day, but I guess today it's a group thing. (I don't mean to question or sound bad, but the instruction sheet says I need to write feelings down too. forgive me if I do this wrong.) I guess before I go too far, the instruction sheet says I need to write "detailed profiles including all physical attributes and sizes." I am not 100% sure what this means, but here we go... So I am Tim, but everyone calls me Timmy, and I'm 19 years old. I work for Elder John's restaurant as a prep cook. Sizes well I'm 5'7 and like 140lb with short blonde hair 30-29 size. Really just an average-looking guy, and yeah, IDK. So my wife kitty, (well her real name is Kate but her "born again name" or "witnessing name" is kitty). She is 17 years old. She works part-time for Elder Mack's tractor shop. And the rest of the time, she is finishing witnessing school. She is very attractive, and people always call her hot and stuff. She is 5'8 too, but since she is always wearing her school shoes, she looks taller than I, like 5'11 and about 120lb. She has blond hair because her real hair color is brown; the witnessing school had her change it. IDK her shoe size and girls have more complicated sizes, so IDK them either. (Okay, so I just called kitty. She didn't answer, but elder Mark answered (Kate's dad) and said her breasts are like 34 D's. He also said she has a nice big, firm butt. And to write, her lips are "fat cock milking pillows.") Sometimes I hate that all the Elders talk about and to Kitty as some common whore... But I guess she is a God's whore, making me ache and throb with need (it's so hard not to sin and stroke). Anyways he also said I have to use secular words since this paper will help secular new members.

The Story -Pre A couple of years ago, I met Kate, and life was quite a bit different then I was kind of a loser and never had a girlfriend. Well, no girls ever gave me the time of day. I met Kate when my mom, who was always very Christian, started to date a new guy, and he was into this church lot... We began to attend. So I met Kate; we clicked because we were both new to the church and didn't really care for a new church. Kate's mom had died a couple of years before, and her dad wanted them to join this church. I never really paid much attention to the bible studies or the sermons. Still, as time went on, I wanted to go more and more because I liked to hang out with Kate (plus many of the other girls all dressed very attractively, um, sorry sexy). I guess mom's new man Bill wanted to go on some mission trip. So he convinced mom, she should go with him; they left about 3 months later. Mom sold the house and car because they needed the money, and they left for a 4-year mission trip. Leaving me in the church's hands (which meant I had to live with some other kids in the communal housing). I did see mom for 2 days later at my wedding, then she left again. Anyways Kate's dad wanted to become an Elder, but for him to move up, he had to have Kate join the church 100%, but we were in love and didn't really care about the church. One day the Pastor had a meeting with us and suggested we get married. I thought that was extreme, but when I wrote mom, she said she couldn't wait till I was a man in the church and God wanted me to get married. She also said she would come back for my wedding. So Kate and I decided to get married through the church, which meant we both had to join a 100%..., which was fine because the Pastor said we would get an apartment paid for by the church for joining. Elder John also said he would hire me right away after the wedding. So it settled we signed papers, and with our parents' signatures and the Elder's and Pastors' blessings, we got married a few days after Kate's 16th birthday. After our wedding, the church sent us on a two-week "honeymoon" to the "couple retreat," which was cool, except it's more like a couples boot camp. Guys and girls had to sleep in separate campsites. But the camp was so educational; they taught us all about being a good Christian couple. And we did get to make friends with a few other couples. (In total, there were nine couples). I guess the Elders and Pastor pick what each person (and couple) specialize in or learns. So one couple whose family was high up in the church were in training for leadership, six other couples were in training to work in the missions. And one couple was in training to support members. The camp had us take on roles, chores, studies, exercises, and lots of counseling. Each of us got a counselor; most guys had to share a girl counselor between two guys. Tracy was assigned one other guy, Christopher (Tiffany, his wife is almost as hot as Kate); Kate got a counselor named Jeff. Once we were checked in, they gave us meds and said we would have to take them daily because I guess people were getting sick in the past. After that, Kate went to the girl's dorm, I went to the boys, and we were assigned a sleeping area (I was on the top bunk while Christopher got the bottom bed because he was kind of fat). The other guys all slept in the same room on other bunks; only the guy in leadership training had a different room. The girl who did our check gave me a schedule, and orientation explained that the next couple of weeks might be rough and to get some sleep. Copyright 2021 CP

#story #the church #pre #pre chapter #chapter 00

[edutainer2022]

UNREQUITED Ch 7

Co-written with @janetm74

Ch 6

AO3 (1-7)

This installment found a place in the tapestry of a vaster story, thanks to the amazing insight of @janetm74, making the implications so much more exciting to ponder and to explore further!

(Page Six)

Ever since Kat Kavanaugh buried a hatchet and wasn't chasing conspiracy theories about them on Global Holovision anymore, watching the news live was a once in a blue moon activity in Casa Tracy. They followed the major world events through John and Eos (maybe a bit of social media on a relatively quiet morning), and they were likely to be part of those in some capacity at least a third of the times. Sometimes a half.

But it was one of those days. A relative lull in rescues compiled with the exhaustion of the previous fortnight streak of disasters bred mildly numb boredom. Batteries too low to pursue their usual hobbies, they gravitated to the lounge.

Scott was ever at the desk with holo screens full of quarterly budget reports, because their biggest brother did stock market numbers for LEISURE, apparently. Virgil was playing, as usual, but the music was slowly fading to a halt. Alan was gaming, or pretending to be while napping, his VR goggles on. Kayo was going through some specs, half leaning on the couch cushions. Even John was in a quiet lull up in orbit, his hologram just bobbing at the comms unit, hanging out with everybody, but not really a part of any conversation.

That left Gordon scralling lazily through newsreels. The sudden yelp sent Alan tumbling on the floor and Scott at least half an inch closer to a cardiac arrest under thirty. A keen observer would have noticed Kayo reaching for a knife in the ankle holster. The piano music keened on an abrupt note and stopped. Several pairs of VERY unamused eyes stared Gordon down.

The Fish was on his feet already, bursting with excitement, sending the news holo to the center of the lounge.

"Did you guys know Fischler has a brother?!?!"

The assorted grumps and groans across the lounge indicated that they not only didn't know, but weren't in the least thrilled by that information.

Only John and Kayo shared a quiet look, because OF COURSE they would know.

Gordon surveyed the lounge in triumph, setting the stage for a punchline.

"He has a brother and he's getting married!"

"Who, Fischler?"

Alan was still scrambling up from his hardwood landing and making a show of rubbing an ouchie. Scott at least looked ready to switch gears to the full "hurt brother!" mode. Gordon was not deterred.

"No, dummy, not Fischer! His brother is getting married!"

"And that's any of our business how?"

Alan was still not ready to relinquish attention from his boo-boo. Not with so many big brothers in attendance. But John, Kayo and Virgil were already sharing concerned LOOKS.

Any widely publicized event with cameras rolling and hundreds in attendance, involving Fischler, could potentially turn into a showcase of his latest "invention", or ten. Which would mean potential casualties and work for IR. They would need to be on the look-out and on standby. Scott waved at the comm to get the volume up.

The holo displayed a close pic of a younger and significantly more polished version of Langstrom Fischler, hair sleecked back, but a weaselly smile just a tad on the manic side.

The celebrity news anchor was gushing about a "dashing fresh face on the World Senate, a philanthropist and patron of innovation, a devoted brother and a consummate athlete, setting off to be a force of a positive change in the world" and "his drop dead gorgeous fiancée, a once Miss Brazil runner-up, who dedicated herself to the selfless life of service, decorated for honor and courage".

The picture on the screen changed to an official GDF snapshot of a tall young brunette in dress blues. The insignia on the collar indicated the rank of Captain and breastplanks - several high ranking awards for valor. The picture switched to a series of candid paparazzi snaps of the "happy couple".

The show host droned on with one corny cliche after another about the "match made of dreams" and a " high profile dream wedding" scheduled to take place on a cozy remote island.

Gordon interrupted the stream of saccharine platitudes:

"Huh? How come we're not invited? Scott, you know like everyone in the World Senate!"

His voice was drowned out by the deafening snap of the metal stylus, broken in Scott's fingers. The sound of the desk chair hitting the floor, as Scott stood up and all but ran from the lounge, was even louder.

"Huh?!"

Gordon, yet again, surmised the bewilderment of everyone present.

Jade eyes squinted a fraction as Kayo watched Scott's outburst and hasty retreat.

Virgil was half out to follow Scott, when a ping came through on Gordon's comm. The sign flashed pink.

"Yay! Looks like I'm going after all! Penny needs a plus one! John, can I borrow your tax?!"

John half waved his brother off, brows furrowed and hands already flying over invisible files, when another pink ping came through. It was Kayo's turn for a "Huh?" moment.

"Looks like Penny needs a plus two, as well. I'm invited".

That deflated Gordon's initial excitement enough to notice Virgil leaving in the general direction of Dad's office, where Scott had locked himself.

Before Virgil reached the door to try and reason with big brother to talk about... whatever that was, John sent two files to his comm.

One - a picture they all saw a hundred times on Dad's desk back in Kansas, but it didn't compute out of context. Scott's Airgroup Wing after a training flight. All hugging and laughing, still in flightsuits. Scott and the girl from the news today - Fischler Jr.'s fiancée - at the center.

The other Virgil never saw before. It would figure since it was a screenshot from, what he recognized with some dread, was Dad's old phone. There was a picture sent to a private chat with Dad of the same girl, in a sundress, and Scott in a polo shirt, apparently both on leave. An almost ten years younger Scott was smiling like he could power up a sun. The message to Dad read "SHE SAID YES!!!".

The date of the message indicated about a month and a half before Scott's mission to Bereznik.

Virgil sank to the floor, leaning on the wall, never going through with the knock on the locked office door.

***

It was such an unbelievable cliché it felt surreal. The thunderstorm, the lightning, the lash of downpour across his face. Then again, it was fitting, as his world was going crashing down around him. Yet again.

There was nothing surreal about the hard edges of Mom's ring she just gave him back.

For about six weeks he was the happiest man alive. Dad's IR project was well underway, and he was to share that dream not only with Dad and brothers, but with the love of his life. He should have known better...

The words were real too - hard and ruthless. About Dad yanking his leash, and expecting nothing but dutiful following in his footsteps and his vision, concealed by his looming shadow, and giving up what they both dreamed about and worked so hard for - test flights, command ranks, career in service.

The echo came back to him often, in one dark hour or another, after his world shattered to pieces yet another time.

Dad voiced his reservations clearly, but did agree to give him Mom's ring. "When you know, you know". Wasn't it how he and Mom got married?

It WAS too soon, they WERE too young, and frateenization within a unit WAS an issue, but with IR lifting off that wasn't to be a problem, once he told her the full scale of the classified project. He should have known better...

He last remembered the ring yanked off his neck with the dogtags chain by a smirking Berezniki guard.

He put up a hell of a fight for that and was beaten within an inch of his life. The first time.

Next time he found it, inexplicably, in Dad's safe on the island, after the search for Zero-X was called off. He meant to ask Kyrano, as he wasn't conscious or coherent enough for the extraction op, or for months after, but the man never returned his calls anymore, sending in a resignation after half a year of following leads on the Hood.

There wasn't much room in his mind or hours in his days to give it more thought for years after. Or more pieces for his heart to break into. He should have known better.

And now she was getting married. To someone bright and promising, changing the world for the better, who wasn't him. The story of his life!

He should have known better as well.

The sound of glass shattering against the wall and a visceral scream finally sent Virgil in, wild-eyed, breaking past the lock.

***

John lifted an eyebrow in a perfect quizzical arch, putting the tablet down, as the "wedding party" poured, or rather, limped into the lounge.

Gordon's tuxedo sleeve was torn clear off, his bowtie, undone, served as a makeshift tourniquet. Parker sported cuts, bruises and a glorious shiner. Penelope's elaborate updo was in disarray, one heel of a golden pump broken. Kayo's slip dress hem was torn, exposing a garter holster.

As John hurried to the kitchen for the first aid kit, he heard her hiss something to the effect of "You should have seen the other guys".

The villa was quiet. Grandma had Alan on the mainland for the weekend. Virgil chased Scott up the volcano. There was a good chance biggest brother and his stormy mood was best quarantined at the Round House for the rest of the day.

John was waiting in the lounge for the fallout, one way or another. He wasn't quite prepared for the sight on display, handing out ice packs.

Gordon hissed too and bit off a curse, as John set about cleaning the bullet graze on his arm.

"Pen, do all your friends whip out a standard issue gun at the altar and read the groom Miranda rights instead of vows?"

Lady Penelope was busy trying to look poised while breaking the second heel off a designer pump, to make them even.

"It was a deep undercover mission to round up a drug and slave trafficking ring. A destination wedding was a most fortunate venue for the occasion."

Kayo looked up from the kitchen isle at that, not pausing to stop extracting a considerable arsenal of throw-knives from her bodice.

"Looks like the Fischler brothers were bankrolled by mafia. The crazy inventions AND the World Senate election. In exchange for some... perks."

Kayo snorted and went back to her inventory of weapons.

Gordon perked up as the anesthetic cream kicked in and forgot to NOT wave the injured hand around to assist his narrative.

"It was actually kinda cool! The bride barked out "Hands up!" instead of "I do"! The bridesmaids all dropped their bouquets and brandished guns. The bridal party were all Organized Crime and Counterterrorism. Well, and us... A little  heads up wouldn't have hurt, Penny. Then all hell broke loose. Rose petals and confetti everywhere. You should have seen Fischler's face!"

Gordon was nearly flailing with excitement, so John's hands pushed him mildly back into the seat. Turquoise eyes found Penelope's line of sight, studiously avoiding Kayo:

"So... no wedding?"

"No wedding indeed."

Up on the Tracy Volcano Virgil's comm vibrated, switched to silent mode hours ago. John's message read "No wedding."

Virgil exhaled a sigh, but didn't yet know how to break the subject with a brother, seated next to him on the sun-warmed boulder, overlooking the ocean. Blue eyes were fixed on a point far away in the distance, or maybe far away in the past, Scott still wouldn't talk about. 

#thunderbirds are go #pairing: scott/kayo #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #kayo kyrano #scott tracy/original character #that didn't work #scott tracy needs a hug #thunderbirds 2015 #janetm74 #john tracy didn't sign up for this #my fic #methinks i have astronomy

[edutainer2022]

There's a bit of headcanon backstory of Scott's disastrous trainwreck of a lovelife I always kinda mean to write out (shout out to @janetm74 and @liseylou!). So it features here. Gordon watches celebrity news. Fischler's brother (of all people!) gets married. Nothing goes as planned. Scott is NOT having a good time. Nor has he been for a while. Bereznik gets mentioned. An OC that might be relevant later gets mentioned. The GDF units I think may have IR on the radar get mentioned. Scott has great brothers and good friends. He's still not having a good time.

PAGE SIX

Ever since Kat Kavanaugh buried a hatchet and wasn't chasing conspiracy theories about them on Global Holovision anymore, watching the news live was a once in a blue moon activity in Casa Tracy. They followed the major world events through John and Eos (maybe a bit of social media on a relatively quiet morning), and they were likely to be part of those in some capacity at least a third of the times. Sometimes a half. But it was one of those days. A relative lull in rescues compiled with the exhaustion of the previous fortnight streak of disasters bred mildly numb boredom. Batteries too low to pursue their usual hobbies, they gravitated to the lounge.

Scott was ever at the desk with holo screens full of quarterly budget reports, because their biggest brother did stock market numbers for LEISURE, apparently. Virgil was playing, as usual, but the music was slowly fading to a halt. Alan was gaming, or pretending to be while napping, his VR goggles on. Kayo was going through some specs, half leaning on the couch cushions. Even John was in a quiet lull up in orbit, his hologram just bobbing at the comms unit, hanging out with everybody, but not really a part of any conversation. That left Gordon scrolling lazily through newsreels. The sudden yelp sent Alan tumbling on the floor and Scott at least half an inch closer to a cardiac arrest under thirty. A keen observer would have noticed Kayo reaching for a knife in the ankle holster. The piano music keened on an abrupt note and stopped. Several pairs of VERY unamused eyes stared Gordon down.

The Fish was on his feet already, bursting with excitement, sending the news holo to the center of the lounge.

"Did you guys know Fischler has a brother?!?!"

The assorted grumps and groans across the lounge indicated that they not only didn't know, but weren't in the least thrilled by that information. Only John and Kayo shared a quiet look, because OF COURSE they would know.

Gordon surveyed the lounge in triumph, setting the stage for a punchline.

"He has a brother and he's getting married!"

"Who, Fischler?"

Alan was still scrambling up from his hardwood landing and making a show of rubbing an ouchie. Scott at least looked ready to switch gears to the full "hurt brother!" mode. Gordon was not deterred.

"No, dummy, not Fischer! His brother is getting married!"

"And that's any of our business how?"

Alan was still not ready to relinquish attention from his boo-boo. Not with so many big brothers in attendance. But John, Kayo and Virgil were already sharing concerned LOOKS. Any widely publicized event with cameras rolling and hundreds in attendance, involving Fischler, could potentially turn into a showcase of his latest "invention", or ten. Which would mean potential casualties and work for IR. They would need to be on the look-out and on standby. Scott waved at the comm to get the volume up.

The holo displayed a close pic of a younger and significantly more polished version of Langstrom Fischler, hair sleecked back, but a weaselly smile just a tad on the manic side. The celebrity news anchor was gushing about a "dashing fresh face on the World Senate, a philanthropist and patron of innovation, a devoted brother and a consummate athlete, setting off to be a force of a positive change in the world" and "his drop dead gorgeous fiancée, a once Miss Brazil runner-up, who dedicated herself to the selfless life of service, decorated for honor and courage". The picture on the screen changed for an official GDF snapshot of a tall young brunette in dress blues. The insignia on the collar indicated the rank of Captain and breastplanks - several high ranking awards for valor. The picture changed to a series of candid paparazzi snaps of the "happy couple". The show host droned on with one corny cliche after another about the "match made of dreams" and a " high profile dream wedding" scheduled to take place on a cozy remote island.

Gordon interrupted the stream of saccharine platitudes:

"Huh? How come we're not invited? Scott, you know like everyone in the World Senate!"

But his voice was drowned out by the deafening snap of the metal stylus, broken in Scott's fingers. The sound of the desk chair hitting the floor, as Scott stood up and all but ran from the lounge, was even louder.

"Huh?!"

Gordon, yet again, surmised the bewilderment of everyone present. Virgil was half out to follow Scott, when a ping came through on Gordon's comm. The sign flashed pink.

"Yay! Looks like I'm going after all! Penny needs a plus one! John, can I borrow your tux?!"

John half waved his brother off, brows furrowed and hands already flying over invisible files, when another pink ping came through. It was Kayo's turn for a "Huh?" moment.

"Looks like Penny needs a plus two, as well. I'm invited".

That deflated Gordon's initial excitement enough to notice Virgil leaving in the general direction of Dad's office, where Scott had locked himself. Before he reached the door to try and reason with big brother to talk about... whatever that was, John sent two files to his comm. One - a picture they all saw a hundred times on Dad's desk back in Kansas, but it didn't compute out of context. Scott's Airgroup Wing after a training flight. All hugging and laughing, still in flightsuits. Scott and the girl from the news today - Fischler Jr.'s fiancée - at the center. The other Virgil never saw before. It would figure since it was a screenshot from, what he recognized with some dread, was Dad's old phone. There was a picture sent to a private chat with Dad of the same girl, in a sundress, and Scott in a polo shirt, apparently both on leave. An almost ten years younger Scott was smiling like he could power up a sun. The message to Dad read "SHE SAID YES!!!". The date of the message indicated about a month and a half before Scott's mission to Bereznik. Virgil sank to the floor, leaning on the wall, never going through with the knock on the locked office door.

***

It was such an unbelievable cliché it felt surreal. The thunderstorm, the lightning, the lash of downpour across his face. Then again, it was fitting, as his world was going crashing down around him. Yet again. There was nothing surreal about the hard edges of Mom's ring she just gave him back. For about six weeks he was the happiest man alive. Dad's IR project was well underway, and he was to share that dream not only with Dad and brothers, but with the love of his life. He should have known better... The words were real too - hard and ruthless. About Dad yanking his leash, and expecting nothing but dutifully following in his footsteps and his vision, concealed by his looming shadow, and giving up what they both dreamed about and worked so hard for - test flights, command ranks, career in service. The echo came back to him often, in one dark hour or another, after his world shattered to pieces yet another time. Dad voiced his reservations clearly, but did agree to give him Mom's ring. "When you know, you know". Wasn't it how he and Mom got married? It WAS too soon, they WERE too young, and frateenization within a unit WAS an issue, but with IR lifting off that wasn't to be a problem, once he told her the full scale of the classified project. He should have known better...

He last remembered the ring yanked off his neck with the dogtags chain by a smirking Berezniki guard. He put up a hell of a fight for that and was beaten within an inch of his life. The first time. Next time he found it, inexplicably, in Dad's safe on the island, after the search for Zero-X was called off. He meant to ask Kyrano, as he wasn't conscious or coherent enough for the extraction op, or for months after, but the man never returned his calls anymore, sending in a resignation after half a year of following leads on the Hood. There wasn't much room in his mind or hours in his days to give it more thought for years after. Or more pieces for his heart to break into. He should have known better. And now she was getting married. To someone bright and promising, changing the world for the better, who wasn't him. He should have known better as well. The sound of glass shattering against the wall and a visceral scream finally sent Virgil in, wild-eyed, breaking past the lock.

***

John lifted an eyebrow in a perfect quizzical arch, putting the tablet down, as the "wedding party" poured, or rather, limped into the lounge. Gordon's tuxedo sleeve was torn clear off, his bowtie, undone, served as a makeshift tourniquet. Parker sported cuts, bruises and a glorious shiner. Penelope's elaborate updo was in disarray, one heel of a golden pump broken. Kayo's slip dress hem was torn, exposing a garter holster. As John hurried to the kitchen for the first aid kit, he heard her hiss something to the effect of "You should have seen the other guys".

The villa was quiet. Grandma had Alan on the mainland for the weekend. Virgil chased Scott up the volcano. There was a good chance biggest brother and his stormy mood was best quarantined at the Round House for the rest of the day. John was waiting in the lounge for the fallout, one way or another. He wasn't quite prepared to the sight on display, handing out ice packs.

Gordon hissed too and bit off a curse, as John set about cleaning the bullet graze on his arm.

"Pen, do all your friends whip out a standard issue gun at the altar and read the groom Miranda rights instead of vows?"

Lady Penelope was busy trying to look poised while breaking the second heel off a designer pump, to make them even.

"It was a deep undercover mission to round up a drug and slave trafficking ring. A destination wedding was a most fortunate venue for the occasion."

Kayo looked up from the kitchen isle at that, not pausing to stop extracting a considerable arsenal of throw-knives from her bodice.

"Looks like the Fischler brothers were bankrolled by mafia. The crazy inventions AND the World Senate election. In exchange for some... perks."

Kayo snorted and went back to her inventory of weapons.

Gordon perked up as the anesthetic cream kicked in and forgot to NOT wave the injured hand around to assist his narrative.

"It was actually kinda cool! The bride barked out "Hands up!" instead of "I do"! The bridesmaids all dropped their bouquets and brandished guns. The bridal party were all Organized Crime and Counterterrorism. Well, and us... A little  heads up wouldn't have hurt, Penny. Then all hell broke loose. Rose petals and confetti everywhere. You should have seen Fischler's face!"

Gordon was nearly flailing with excitement, so John's hands pushed him mildly back into the seat. Turquoise eyes found Penelope's line of sight:

"So... no wedding?"

"No wedding indeed."

Up on the Tracy Volcano Virgil's comm vibrated, switched to silent mode hours ago. John's message read "No wedding."

Virgil exhaled a sigh, but didn't yet know how to break the subject with a brother, seated next to him on the sun-warmed boulder, overlooking the ocean. Blue eyes were fixed on a point far away in the distance, or maybe far away in the past, Scott still wouldn't talk about.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #virgil tracy didn’t subscribe to this #john tracy #john tracy didn't sign up for this #kayo kyrano #is a badass #penelope is a good friend #gdf are competent #on occasion #my fic #methinks i have astronomy #thunderbirds 2015 #thunder oc #past relationships #bereznik headcanons

[edutainer2022]

Frankly, I want to send you every single emoji from that ask game for Scott, but I'm trying to practice self-restraint. How about a couple of ൠ for him?

@amistrio Thank you! Yeah, I'm kinda contemplating the merit of answering the meme unprompted or sending myself an anonymous ask or five))

Random (TAG) Scott headcanons:

- this one I really enjoyed getting traction in vaster fanon - Scott is a mathlete and a decent engineer. Not Brains or the Mechanic level, but Dad Jeff level at the very least. He was elated to be in on Dad's plans and designs of TV-21 as a teen, was definitely in on the early designs of Thunderbirds and takes active part in upgrades and diagnostics (that's pretty much canon). He can reassemble his bird in his sleep;

- Scott reads. For leisure. Actual books. The "boring" classics of the "mandatory reading list" and beyond (that's probably something I glimpsed in TOS and hold really dear). And he's well versed in poetry. It's a Mom thing for him - they read a lot together, he later read all the stories to his brothers. His AP English essays were stellar, but "Liberal arts" was never an option, not for a Jeff Tracy's son, who worshiped Dad's life path and accomplishments. So it was math, physics and avionics.

- Scott has an MBA. That Tracy Industries money gotta make themselves somehow to fund increasingly expensive IR endeavors.

- after the TV-21 fiasco (financial too), Scott offered to enlist into GDF before he turned 18 - that way he thought he could pay for college and help repay the investors, so that his college fund would go to John and Virgil and their dreams wouldn't be derailed. Dad put a halt to that (and doubled down business efforts to make sure his kids were never financially insecure again).

- This one is a bit (a lot!) darker - in a typical "golden child trauma" fashion Scott ties his self-worth firmly to merits of performance and achievement. In a situation when his father sacrificed himself to save all of humanity, Scott considers himself obliged to give nothing less to compensate humanity (and his family) for that loss - that breeds martyrdom that comes across as recklessness or workaholism on a good day and a death wish on less good days (also, pretty much canon, in so many words). He genuinely doesn't get how his family or the world would need him for just him, if he's "obviously less" than his father was (being repeatedly mistaken for his younger father's image doesn't help).

- After really hard rescues, or sometimes when the burden gets too much, Scott would dash away in One across the world to Mom's grave. Alone. John and Virgil have figured it out and know not to try and coax him back before he's ready, but keep an eye on him.

- Learning about Dad's signal from Oort Cloud nearly drove Scott insane with guilt, whereas his brothers were elated. Which piled even more guilt, because he didn't want to trump their hope. He thinks he failed by "giving up" on the search all those years ago and "moving on".

- Scott has a track record of notoriously disastrous failed relationships, which actually troubles him a lot more than he lets on. It's usually a subject of brothers' ribbing (Gordon's, mostly), but it's actually a fair bit traumatic. Through a couple of break-ups Virgil and John had to stage interventions (up to and including flying in from their colleges). On at least one occasion it was Dad. Whoever falls for a dashing flyboy/hero/billionaire with killer dimples and witty one liners, usually, don't sign up for a deeply feeling, traumatized, crazed with anxiety family man, whose brothers and life's work are his whole world. At a certain point Scott got convinced he's damaged goods and happiness/family is not in the cards. He's, of course, wrong.

- Scott was to Dad what Virgil is to him and what their Mom was to Jeff - a grounding force, a confidante and someone with unwavering faith and inspiration.

- Dropping out of Airforce early on in the career to join IR cost him most or all of his GDF friendships and it stung deeply. It stung that many openly considered him a renegade, who chose "Daddy's private 911 gig and getting kittens off trees over the real service". Regardless of Bereznik POW headcanon (the hurt, PTSD and comfort potential there is, of course, unparalleled!), I think Scott had to face A LOT of cold shoulders, after Jeff's disappearance. Whereas Colonel Tracy was revered, Tracy "dropout" Jr. was openly stared down by multiple star generals and getting IR up and running again was an uphill struggle.

- Kyrano and Lee leaving IR after Jeff hit him hard. He's lowkey sure it's because he can't measure up to Dad (and father figures don't want him). In reality it was, of course, guilt and grief of the Old Guard.

-Some time, many-many years down the line Scott is gonna run for the World President office and win.

I can go on for a loooong while (Scott is among my deeply personally favorite characters not for nothing). Maybe I'll come up with a Part 2. I'm having lots of fun (making myself sad, mostly).

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #scott tracy needs his dad #scott tracy needs therapy but noone ever brings it up #thunderbirds ask #methinks i have astronomy #headcanons #thunderbirds 2015

[soniabigcheese]

For your BTHB, I would love self-harm and John. If not that, then I could also put forth bedside vigil and Alan ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Thanks for the ask

Okay, so Self Harm has already gone. Sorry about that. I was on my phone and not home PC so that's the only bingo card I had handy.

But I can merge the two together, if that's okay.

Category/Fandom: Thunderbirds are Go Characters: John Tracy, Alan Tracy, vague mention of Grandma, Virgil and Kayo but not vital to the story as such

Warnings: eating disorders and self harm

Alan sat perched on the edge of his seat, looking expectantly at his brother, who was paler than usual in the hospital bed.

He wasn't the most observant of people, heck he managed to get a nasty bruise from walking into Shadow. If he'd taken that little bit more notice, then he would have seen where the outline of TBS flickered ever so slightly. He'd been sporting a black eye for a week now ... his badge of honour so to speak.

But as he watched John, he couldn't help noticing that the tee shirt was baggier than usual, his collarbone and cheekbones more prominent.

Oh sure, they'd been busier than ever but even so, breaks were essential. And he couldn't remember the last time John spent mealtimes with everyone.

'Grandma's cooking' was an excuse that started getting old.

But essential work on TB5? EOS could handle that, no problem.

John was always meticulous about rotating his foods so it was a shocker when Alan went on board John's space station and discovered the fridge had very little in it and what was there ... was so old it was practically growing it's own fungus.

He evaded every question flung at him by his kid brother and when pressed further, he just shut down and refused to talk.

But then he fainted ... quite out of the blue ... right inside the holosphere. Alan was so glad this didn't happen outside because then it would have been very tricky indeed. However, being indoors DID pose issues of their own - zero gravity was a pain when hauling a floppy body around and it took some serious scrambling and negotiation, bouncing off the walls whilst EOS flung out a barrage of questions at him.

Once Alan managed to wedge the man into the space elevator and strap him in, as well as sending a distress call to Tracy Island, John's eyes finally fluttered open, but he wasn't making any sense at all and that got Alan worried.

Virgil, and grandma were waiting to have him checked over. His blood sugar had seriously dipped and if they didn't get any nutrients into him, his organs were on the verge of collapse.

How the hell did the biosuit miss all the signs?

That was easy, he'd figured out a bypass that tricked the suit ... and EOS ... because he didn't want anyone to know about his shameful eating disorder.

It had originally started out as just being too busy. To the food not being that palatable. And it was easier to skip a meal or two because his shakes would be enough. And then they'd eventually stopped.

But grandma wasn't having it. There had to be some sort of trigger to cause him to go down this self destructive route.

And there was only one name that came to mind.

Captain Ridley O'Bannon.

After she's tricked him into saving her, he'd refused to talk about it and brushed it all aside. But grandma knew her grandsons and knew that this had hurt him deeply. He'd let Ridley in, gained her trust but then she had violated that trust.

So now, here he was, Earthside and hooked up to a drip, whilst Alan loomed over him day after day. After all, he'd been there when John collapsed. He felt responsible for John right now.

Each day he would saunter in, juice box in one hand and his games console in the other. But that was quickly abandoned as all he could fixate on was his brother.

Recovery was slow. And because John's stomach had shrunk so much, and he was weak, he couldn't lift up the cutlery so he had to be spoon fed.

Alan was there, dipping the spoon into the weak but vitamin laced broth, blowing on it and pushing it to John's lips. At first, John turned away and refused. But Alan still persisted.

At one point he got so angry that he threatened to get one of grandma's big syringes and shove it up John's butt ... just to make damned sure that he got SOMETHING into his body.

That cause John to smile weakly and he just couldn't resist correcting the poor kid by saying that that was the dumbest idea he'd ever had ... and added on wistfully that he sounded just like grandpa. He'd been a picky eater too.

@badthingshappenbingo

#thunderbirds are go #john tracy #alan tracy #self harm #bedside vigil #bad things happen bingo