#put some respect on alan scott's name

[hypewinter]

Danny just wanted to enjoy the stars. Was that too hard to ask? Evidently so by the fact that he was currently dragging six foot two man in green into his room.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #hyper prompts #had to dust off the search engine and look up hal's height for this one folks #also side know #the little box i got hal's height from said he was the first earthborn green lantern #and at first i got upset because you know #put some respect on alan scott's name #but they i remembered that he wasn't actually a part of the corps #he was just an old man doing his own thing #idk just found that realization kinda funny #feel free to ignore this

[ketchup-monthly]

🎶 and ✅️ for the fanfic ask meme? :)

hehehe! into the fray i go again! thank you!!

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

-i dont necessarily listen to music when i write, like maybe i'll have some music going in the background because i need at least a low level of noise at all times or i'll go insane, but i know rn i'm listening to jazz radio on pandora because my brother put it on like 7 hours ago and its still going. i'm a huge fan of the classical composer Holst and his suite The Planets, and i'll listen to that when im writing or need to focus on whatever it is that i'm doing (Jupiter was my school song in high school and is actually one of my favorite classical songs because it's very lovely)(link here bc i have to share it)(this is a link to a playlist of the rest of the suite)

-i mostly just have the tv on if im writing at home, and then i'll usually put something like s1 of Lois and Clark, Green Lantern: the Animated Series, Tanked, some random cooking show, or Mysteries at the Museum. or whatever my youtube recommends. depends on how im feeling each day and how much i'll need to actually focus on my fic.

-i do listen to music when im driving for work, and currently im working my way through The Crane Wives and The Orion Experience's albums (i already finished Waterparks)

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

-Hal and Barry's cat, Goose. she's an orange kitten and Wally is allergic to her.

-kissies. lots of halbarry kissies

-guy gardner is really good with kids and also he has a dog named shark who is a retired k9 unit. also he watches soap operas and romance movies even tho hes totally aroace

-idk if its something that people even notice in my halbarry fics, but hal is jewish. tbh i think i mean to include it more but totally forget

-kryptonians are fucked up. so are speedsters. so are lanterns.

-hal is old-man core. he just is. its amazing and i love him. he also has a bad leg and has to use a cane sometimes bc he got an injury that healed very wrong when he was a young lantern

-also wally and kyle are basically always like...9 and 7 respectively in my fics about the halbarry family because idk. fun ages. theyre still little but they can talk and think. idk when they'll get older

-this is more in my aus that i haven't written but hopefully will eventually, but giving bruce's kids to literally anyone else. i have an au where the only kids bruce keeps are dick and damian and maybe duke. i have another where duke is trained/fostered by alan scott and his husband, and another where duke is trained/fostered by midnighter and eventually apollo. the au where the only kids bruce gets are dick and dami and duke is the same one where all the other batkids are taken in by various gotham rogues. i have aus where tim is trained/taken in by dinah lance and her mom dinah drake, kon is adopted by alan scott, roy is adopted by dinah and his her sidekick instead of olivers, billy is adopted by lex luthor, kon stays with lex luthor and is raised by him along with lexs daughter who is kons half twin, billy is adopted by clark and hal and sorta guy and the rest of the red lanterns that i like, clark is found by the gls when hes a baby and is raised by kilowog, etc etc etc. bestie i have so many aus and i could talk about them for ages (edit: i also have one where jason is adopted by john constantine and etrigan the demon without jason bloods knowledge)

-sorry most of those were about halbarry and their family lol. im writing a lot of that this year

thanks for the ask!!! <3

#hehehehe thanky!! #halbarry #hal jordan #barry allen #various batkids #im not tagging all of them #music #ask meme #ketchup answers #ketchup writes

[gumnut-logic]

“Tracy is an Irish surname. This is ridiculous.”

Scott fiddled with his ‘jabot’ or whatever the hell it was called. Virgil, of course, knew exactly what every piece of this damned costume was named. He eyed his artistic brother.

The smirk was annoying.

“Actually, some say Tracy is French.” Gordon, to Scott’s ultimate annoyance had managed to kit himself out without any issue. Probably had previous practice since this was all his fault anyway.

“I don’t care. I’m American and this is ridiculous.”

“A little respect for national dress, please, Scott.” Gordon was arching an eyebrow at him, desperately attempting to keep a straight face. His fish brother was enjoying this far too much.

Scott experienced a moment of distraction envisioning suitable retaliation once he made it through this pile of pageantry.

At least Alan seemed to be having as much trouble as Scott.

That prompted a flash of guilt at taking reassurance from his youngest brother’s predicament.

“I look stupid.” The astronaut was completely out of his element.

Scott took a step towards Alan, but Gordon beat him to it, fussing as very much the older brother.

“C’mon, Scott, it is only for a few hours.” Virgil, already as perfectly dressed as Gordon, stepped up to straighten the silly jabot thing and hand him his jacket.

Okay, so the jacket wasn’t the worst part of the outfit.

That was taken by the kilt.

Virgil looked right at home. Of course, he did. Plaid was his natural dress on any day of the week. But then Scott had to admit Virgil did wear it well.

The tartan they had chosen was logical, but a complete fantasy when it came to official tartans. Gordon had joked that they could register it as the tartan of Tracy Island, but that would require identifying their refuge in the South Pacific to the general public and that was never going to happen.

In any case, the tartan consisted of the colours of the five Thunderbirds on a deep blue background.

Virgil wore the kilt with the plaid tossed over his shoulder and pinned with a stylised metal version of his uniform patch. His jacket was trimmed in Thunderbird green.

Truly a costume.

The annoying thing was that with his faux mohawk hairstyle, Virgil looked like he was born into it.

While Scott felt like some gawky teenager with cold knees.

A knock at the door and John stuck his head in. “They ready yet?”

Virgil muttered as he fussed over Scott’s jacket. “Nearly there.”

And there was another thing – John. The man was a sociophobe. Scott respected that. Never pushed and even helped him avoid social engagements. But this one? John had been the first to put up his hand.

Scott had stared at him enough for John to worry if there was something wrong with him. “You usually hate this kind of thing.”

“Have you been to Edinburgh?”

“No.” It was amazing really. There was one place on the planet that had failed to collapse, blow up, or somehow otherwise self-destruct and need International Rescue.

Must be full of smart people.

“It’s worth it.” And John had stars in his eyes.

Maybe that was where the red hair had come from.

Scott settled for just glaring at him.

John had been his fallback plan and the red-headed menace had just blown it out the window and joined the enemy.

Betrayal burned.

Especially when John knew as much as Virgil about this costume and wore it as well or better than their artistic brother. Silly socks included.

Alan. Scott was going to cling to Alan, the only loyal brother.

As if to punctuate that thought, his little brother squawked at Gordon in protest. “That was skin!”

Pins, so many pins.

Virgil shuffled Scott in front of a mirror, lobbed the great swath of fabric over his shoulder, and pinned it in place with his stylised Thunderbird One metal pin. “There you go. As handsome as ever.” A grin as he eyed his brother. “You look good in anything and you know it.”

Scott glared at him sideways.

But he had to admit, Virgil was right, he didn’t look too bad. The blue, as always, suited him well, and standing next to his brother, the sense of a Scottish IR formal uniform came into play. He had a dash of Highland drama about him from one of those movies that both Grandma and Kayo melted over.

Not that Kayo would ever admit it, but Scott had seen those tears in her eyes…over a movie.

Maybe that was why Virgil wore plaid so much…for the girls.

Scott snorted at the thought, prompting his brother to arch an eyebrow in his direction. “What?” The eyebrow flattened into a suspicious glare.

“I was just thinking there might be a reason you prefer to wear so much plaid.”

“Why?”

“To attract girls.” Scott grinned at him.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sure. There are so many girls on Tracy Island. They’re flocking.” He picked lint, imaginary or not, off Scott’s shoulder.

Scott stared at Virgil a moment longer, frowning just a little, but then straightened.

Alan was tugging at his socks.

“Are we ready?” Kilt or no, he was still Commander Tracy.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Alan slapped a foot to the ground and stood up properly. Gordon picked lint off his shoulder in echo of what Virgil had done to Scott not a moment earlier.

Scott held back a snort.

Striding towards the door, he didn’t have to look back to know he was being followed. “Let’s do this.”

Twenty minutes later, all five Tracy brothers stepped out of their limousine and onto the red carpet at the main gate of Edinburgh Castle.

Holocams flashed, reporters yelled for their attention, and Scott’s knees froze…it was Scotland, for goodness’ sake.

But he stood at the head of his clan, Virgil at his right, John at his left, Gordon behind and Alan fiddling with his socks again.

Scott hissed. “Alan!”

Gordon snorted.

The youngest stood up, brushing his kilt back into place with an embarrassed grin on his face.

Scott’s lips twisted, but he turned, set his shoulders, and led them into the castle.

And tried to ignore the draught.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #nuttyfic reblog

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Alan’s comfort

This was something I wanted to write about TOS Alan (and maybe continue on with this series of mini-fics... I don’t know lol)

But I like to thank @myladykayo, @katblu42 (and Red, I forgot your tumblr name, sorry *sweatdrop*)

(Also tagging: @mothmandalore, @dreamycloud, @jacksonstarkiller, @uniwolfcorn. You are very welcome ;)

-0-0-0-

Alan shut the door behind him and stomped across his bedroom to crash into his bed headfirst. He felt tired. Physically… and emotionally.

The arguments with his dad were getting the tole on him. He felt he was getting nowhere, despite his greatest efforts. Why was he getting nowhere? He doesn’t fucking know! (If Scott would’ve heard his thoughts, he would’ve called him out to watch his profanity.)

He flipped to his back and looked up at the ceiling. He let out a long sigh, letting out the bottled-up frustration he had with his life. He felt that anything he tried wasn’t enough. Another sigh. Followed by a tiny whine.

 Being the youngest one was hard.

 Alan listened to the clock on his nightstand ticking away. Time passed slowly for the young blond. His breathe felt he had been chocking on the air of the island. It wasn’t just the heat. His family was suffocating him.

 He needed fresh air. So, Alan got up and kneeled to reach something under his bed. It was a box. A big box. He opened it, revealing stacks of some magazines. A collection that he had since he was fourteen. He took them out and opened to a certain page, one by one. He felt a sense of calm when he looked at them and its not from nostalgia. He laid them on the floor and sat on the rim of the bed to looked over to the open magazines.

 Alan let himself lost on the contents of the pages, relieving his frustration, but his anger was still fresh. He didn’t notice his door opened; a shadow slipped in holding a glimmering silver tray. He didn’t notice the figure laying down the tray on the nightstand before looming next to him. It wasn’t until he felt a warm wrinkled hand placed on his shoulder.

 “Have some tea, Mr. Alan,” said the figure, “it should help you ease your temper.”

 At first, the young blonde didn’t bother to look up at the guest. But then he did, his dim ocean blue eyes met with reassuring old eyes of peridot.

 “Oh… Hi Kyrano,” he greeted lamely.

 The father of Tin-Tin gently rubbed his shoulder before reaching out for the cup of tea and handed to the young adult. Alan wordlessly took it and slowly sipped the warm liquid.

 Kyrano noticed the magazines laying on the floor, immediately recognizing the contents inside, “I see the Kamen Riders give you some sort of comfort,” he pointed out.

 Alan nodded. Taking another sip before replying, “They had always been…”

 He remembered when he opened a random magazine at a thrift store after what it seemed to be a bad day at school, he turned to a particular page that struck a chord in him. A page filled with blurry pictures of the legendary Kamen Riders. Fighting whatever was terrorizing the place where people lived. Titles yelling, “WHO ARE THOSE BUGMEN?!” and texts summarizing a short history about them. It sparked curiosity withing Alan and… since then he became fond of them. Reading every news paper and magazine and listening to every radio and TV about those mysterious, bike ridding bug-eyed heroes.

 Alan’s eyes never left the magazine that started it all, in which Kyrano noticed.

 “Out of curiosity, what aspects of them make you feel comfort?” the elder asked.

 The young blonde said nothing. But his thoughts answered for him: They are cool! They are fascinating! The mystery behind them sends thrills of excitement in him. And the fact that they help and save people as the fight threats and monsters (which they are a mystery on their own), and still do to this day! And… They are respected. Yeah… Respected.

 Kyrano must’ve read his thoughts because the elder suddenly spoke, “I know what you were thinking, Mr. Alan. You wanted to be treated the way most of the world treated those bug-eyed heroes. But I am sure those Riders are just as human as you are.”

 Alan knew that. He swore looking at the blurry pictures on the papers and the captured footage on TV, he saw glimpses of them either helping, support and respect each other in smallest gestures! But course, he also saw glimpses of their shortcomings, but does that matter? They were human as much as he could see!

And there times when, basing on the facts from witness reports he could find, a Rider would do something so dangerous, so reckless and over the top, just to save a person’s life, yet their fellows would either just give a fist bump, a tight hug (although very rare), or just any simple gesture of “good job!”.

 His family on the other hand, especially after missions, would scold him for doing something so reckless.  It was getting hard to stay professional. He felt like an underdog. A child! And the only people who treated the way he was supposed to, was Tin-Tin (albeit a little), Brains, Lady Penelope, Parker, his grandmother and even Kyrano!

 “Drink your tea, Alan. You are getting angry again,” kindly reminded Kyrano.

 Alan snapped out of his thoughts looked at Kyrano, then he shook his head, “No, not really. Sort of…” he took another sip.

 Tin-Tin’s father simply stood next to him like a shadow. But it was a reassuring shadow. A quiet shadow that listens but never judges.

 With another sigh, Alan continued, “Its just… There were times where I wish I was a Kamen Rider. Not just because to have cool powers and all, but… because I would feel respected. Respected for my efforts of helping people. For my willingness to reach out my hand to those in peril. I barely get that here. At least that’s how I felt on this island…”

 He then turned to lock eyes with the old man, “Do you think the Kamen Riders will accept me?”

 Kyrano’s eyes widen for a moment. But Alan waited, patiently. Then, the elder finally answered “Well… don’t you think they already have, after that rescue?”

 Alan knew what he was talking about. That rescue with the building fire. The rescue when International Rescue and Kamen Riders have met for the first time. It was a shock, for him and his brothers. One moment they were attacked by some monsters and then the next thing they knew they were saved by the masked bugmen.

 “But what do you mean by that, Kyrano?” Alan raised a curious brow.

 “Well? What have you felt when that certain Rider that you’ve been recently fond with gave you the thumbs up?”

 The young blonde remembered that moment like it was yesterday. When the red Rider lifted his hand and gave Alan (and his brothers) a thumbs up. He thought he had never felt such complete satisfaction after coming back from a mission.

 Alan couldn’t help but to smile.

 “I see…” Kyrano said softly, the corner of his lips slightly raised upwards.

 “But… dad said we shouldn’t trust them… at least not yet!” the young blonde then pouted as he sipped his tea again. Maybe a bit of a gulp.

 Suddenly Tin-Tin’s father snorted, causing Alan’s head to shoot up and stared at him in confusion. Kyrano began explaining calmly, “Ah, Mr. Tracy sure is a wise man. But sometimes he forgets about knowing your allies. In this case, I am very sure the Kamen Riders have a long-recorded history. From what I had seen, they were complicated… but they were mostly good.”

 “Really?” the blue ocean eyes sparkled like the stars he loved.

 “See it for yourself. Don’t take my word for it,” smiled Kyrano honestly.

 The elder turned his heel and went towards the door. But not before turning back and said, “I shall return once you have finished your tea, Mr. Alan,” and then left quietly just as he came in.

 It was no wonder Kyrano was his dad’s close friend, thought Alan.

 His lips stretched into a face-splitting grin. His anger that boiled earlier simmered into a bubbling excitement. Looking down to look at the Kamen Riders in the magazines one more time, he picked them all up and put them back into the box. Then pushed the big carton container back into its place under his bed.

 Getting up, he walked over to a big aquarium, where his Pygmy Alligator was watching him the whole time. The mini gator excitedly crawled up the glass from, looking quite happy for his human friend. Alan smiled as he gently petted his reptile, cheeking the temperature and humidity of the enclosure and looked for anything he should clean.

 Then he looked up the clock… An hour and a half before his Pygmy Alligator needed to be fed. Alan sat next to his mini gator’s aquarium, thinking about what he should do before feeding time.

Then, a thought flashed through his mind. With a cheeky smile, the young blond turned to his gator, “I guess I should follow Kyrano’s advice. Don’t you think, Artemis?”

 The Pygmy Alligator seemed like he’s smiling at him.

 With a grin, Alan got up and went to fetch his laptop before returning to sit next to Artemis. His curiosity began peeking as soon as he opened his custom computer. His inner child thirst for knowledge as he typed in the fist thing that came to his mind:

 … Kamen Rider… Kuuga…

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #alan tracy #kyrano #kamen rider #my fanfics #Kamen Rider Thunderbirds series #Alan's comfort

[tsarisfanfiction]

Hey, I don’t know if you still doing this but I spun the whump wheel and got ‘car accident’ and ‘hospital/infirmary’ with Alan please? (Scott can join in as caretaker if he wants to...actually please ask him to, I love those two ❤️💙)

Never Too Old To Be Smothered

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Alan, Scott

Okay, I’ve given up on going through these in order.  I’m just gonna scroll through my inbox and pick at them as they appeal to me for now (but I should get there eventually!)

In theory, this isn’t going to be particularly long.  We’ll see what happens.

Spin the wheel of whump and give me a character!

“Alan!”

The young man in question looked up at the sound of his name and rolled his eyes as his eldest brother hurtled around a corner and came into view.  His shoes clearly weren’t prepared for the friction of the sudden stop, but it didn’t mean Scott cared or even noticed the screech of protest on the carefully clean floor.

“I’m fine, Scott,” he said, attempting to pre-empt and head off the smother hen.  It had been annoying and embarrassing enough as a teenager; somehow it was worse now he was a full grown adult.

“Your car flipped!” his brother disagreed, and Alan rolled his eyes again.  “You could have died, Alan!”

“Well I didn’t,” he pointed out.  He would have gestured at himself, his still alive self, but the arm in a cast put pay to any attempts at that.  “Brains put enough safety features in to rival a Thunderbird, Scott.  You know this.”

Scott had been the one to insist on it, taking his new car out for a spin long before he’d let him anywhere near the wheel.  That had been when Alan realised that being a legal adult didn’t dim the smother hen tendencies at all, and that in all likelihood, they were never going to dim.

Blue eyes raked over him, sneakers scuffing against the floor as Scott took the last few steps to the side of his bed and all but collapsed into the visitor’s chair.

Alan knew what was running through his mind.  There had been arguments when he’d declared he was going to enter the racing scene, Scott calling it too dangerous despite it technically being far safer than anything any of them did for International Rescue, but at the end of the day, Alan was an adult and Scott couldn’t stop him.

He was relieved Scott hadn’t already launched into another tirade about the dangers.  If he was honest, he’d expected his biggest brother to attempt to force him to quit, maybe even threaten to remove the support his family were giving him, but it seemed that despite the crash - and it had been a nasty crash, thank goodness for Brains; Alan knew not all the involved drivers had survived - Scott still respected his decision enough.

Or maybe someone else - most likely Grandma, but could also have been any of their siblings - had already had a word.  That seemed more probable.

“I’m okay,” he promised.  A broken arm and a broken leg, sure, but that was it.  He’d had worse on missions.  Scott had had worse on missions.

He couldn’t move his strapped-up arm, but that didn’t stop Scott reaching out and lightly tangling their fingers together.

“I know,” he sighed, looking ten years older.  The grey that had started to make its presence known when he was Alan’s age had expanded into unmissable streaks, despite the fact that Scott wasn’t even forty yet.  Normally, Alan barely noticed it - just another part of Scott - but it was times like this, when he was hunched over and a little bit scared, that he couldn’t not see it.  “You’re never going to stop scaring me, are you?”

“At least I’m not Gordon,” he retorted.  While his immediate brother had managed to peak at maximum physical trauma as a teenager, it hadn’t stopped him getting into some rather dramatic scrapes as the years went on.  Alan was fairly certain most of Scott’s grey hairs were his fish brother’s direct fault.

Scott shuddered.  “Don’t,” he warned.  “Just, don’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Alan agreed amicably.  “Is there anything left to save of my car?”

The look on Scott’s face told him all he needed to know.

“You haven’t even seen it, have you?” he accused.  “You heard about the crash and came running over here as fast as Thunderbird One could carry you.”

Scott shifted in his seat at the accusation, and Alan rolled his eyes.  Typical Scott.

“Well, I’m fine and I’m clearly not going anywhere, so can you go find out if anything’s salvageable?” he asked pointedly.  “I’d go do it myself, except...”  He trailed off meaningfully and sent his brother a stop being an idiot and do something useful look.

Scott’s hold on his fingers tightened and he sighed.  Okay, so Scott wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.  Alan wished he was surprised, wished he could have assumed that being an adult and clearly fine, barring a couple of broken bones, would get Scott moving, but he wasn’t.  Over the years, he’d realised whose benefit the smother hen act was really for, and it wasn’t him.

Although, no matter how annoying and occasionally embarrassing it could be, Alan did still kinda like it when his big brother came flapping in to keep him company and look after him.

“Fine,” he caved, with a put-upon sigh that was at least half faked.  Three-quarters, probably.  Maybe even seven eighths.  “I suppose you can stay if you want,” he offered magnanimously.  It got something that might have been a smile from his brother.  “But I want someone finding out what happened to my car.”

It was Scott’s turn to roll his eyes, but at least he looked a little better.  Maybe Alan being stubborn about his car’s condition was enough to prove he was actually fine.  “I’ll get Virgil to check it out,” he said.  “Happy?”

Alan grinned at him and cautiously curled his fingers around Scott’s in return.  The action got a recognisable smile that time.

“Happy,” he agreed.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #alan tracy #scott tracy #thunderfluff #drabbles #ak47stylegirl #behind the scenes

[dccomicrants]

The JSA and Masks

Comic Issues Involved: The Flash vol 2 161, Pat McGreal, Paul Pelletier

Content Warnings: Drug and Substance Addiction Mentions

Summary: An analysis of a conversation that happened at Jay Garrick's Honeymoon which is talked about here.

Transcript of Dialogue that is analyzed:

Alan Scott (Green Lantern): ... So Jay, I know there aren't supposed to be any secrets between a man and his wife, but... Al Pratt (Atom): Joan's known who the Flash really is for some time now, hasn't she? Jay Garrick (Flash): Well, yeah. sure. Ted Grant (Wildcat): I dunno, it seems like a... a violation of the who secret identity concept. Jay Garrick (Flash): Are you telling me that none of you have ever considered letting your girlfriends in on the game? Alan Scott (GL): Uh... no... Ted Grant (WC): [guilty facial expression] Al Pratt (Atom): I guess I thought about telling Mary once. Rex Tyler (Hourman): Of course not. Charles McNider (Dr. Mid-Nite): Not me. Jay Garrick (Flash): Sheesh. Sometimes I think guys in our line of work suffer from arrested development. Alan Scott (GL): Hmm. Jay Garrick (Flash): Oh Heck. You've probably got the right idea. Anyway, all I wear is a helmet and Joan's no dummy. She figured it out long before I ever told her

Let's break this down systematically now- Charles McNider never married his sweetheart (fans thought he was gay but no he just really wanted to protect her from his nightlife and she ended up murdered anyways so how'd that work for him?). Alan has had 2 divorces generally. With DC Pride, his lover Jimmy died in the same train crash that led to him making his lantern and that's a whole separate thing. Alan has 2 kids he didn't know about until they were adults since they were given up for adoption by his ex-wife who was also a supervillain (what is it with Gotham Heroes and marrying villains?). Ted Grant never canonically married, he had a son with a girlfriend, and after his identity was discovered his son was kidnapped and was killed in experimentation by his nemesis. He has another son that he didn't know about until Tom was an adult. Rex stayed married to Wendi but they had a very strained marriage due to the fact that miraclo was addictive and he was very much addicted to the drug. Rex's son eventually would go on to be the second Hourman. Al Pratt married his girlfriend but she was murdered when she was pregnant with their son because his identity was compromised.

At this point in time, none of that has happened. They're all in the prime of their crime-fighting careers. Nothing too major has rocked the boat.

Alan Scott was a closeted gay man who ended up having two failed marriages while being a crime fighter and before he started his career, he lost his lover to a tragedy. To Alan, ever talking about who he really is would be a giant risk because it was the 40s and he was a newsman. He had to stay respectable and he was under scrutiny.

Ted Grant was the Heavy Weight Boxing champion, a known fighter. But he also had a scandal due to other managers paying boxers to throw fights which lead to an innocent man's death causing him to put the costume on in the first place. His name was cleared but he kept suiting up because Alan inspired him. He would already be in the spotlight but he would also be safer to share his identity because he's a known fighter that people knew better than to mess with.

Rex Tyler ran a company and developed miraclo- a drug that gave him super strength for an hour that he could only take once every twenty-four hours. He had an okay reason to not say anything about his identity to try to protect Wendi because he was just some chemist.

Charles McNider was a respected doctor who was blinded in an accident- he could have told his long-time love interest his secret identity because who would ever make the connection between a blind man and a crime fighter? She would have been the safest.

Al Pratt was a college student at the time, he's the youngest person in the room and he admitted to thinking about telling his secret identity to his girlfriend. He also for the longest time didn't have any powers.

This is all very important so hang in there.

Jay unintentionally strikes a nerve because Joan knows who he is. These are all men that Jay trusts with his life and to an extent, Joan's life. They all know his identity, he knows their identities. More importantly, they're friends, and he's genuinely surprised that he's the only one who trusts the person he loves enough with his secret identity. Alan is clearly uncomfortable (on several levels), as are Ted and Charles. Rex and Al handle it the best and drop it, but in the panels, you can see that Ted, Alan, and Charles are the most uncomfortable with what they've just discussed, with Alan actually voicing it with an uncomfortable Hmm. Jay salvages the night by admitting that Alan (and thus everyone else) may be right about keeping their identities secrets but he also admits that Joan figured it out, which likely leaves the others wondering if their girlfriends may have figured out their identities already as well.

Jay Garrick because of his honesty with Joan has the healthiest marriage out of all of the JSA, even when his identity becomes public knowledge, there's never an attempt on Joan's life because she's his wife. And everyone else for one reason or another due to the lack of honesty has either a strained relationship or loses the ones they loved because they didn't share their secret identities.

In other comics, the point is brought up that they wear the masks to protect their loved ones yet their loved ones end up endangered because of the secrets of the masks.

Their reactions to Jay not keeping any secrets from Joan when contrasted with the fact that his honesty meant the longest lasting and healthiest marriage whereas their secrets while wise in the short term ultimately ended in tragedy for all of the other men present is something I think about a lot.

#ted grant wildcat #ted grant #jay garrick #the flash #alan scott #green lantern #rex tyler #hourman #jsa #justice society of america #al pratt #the atom #charles mcnider #dr. mid-nite #tw: drug addiction #comic analysis

[eastertag]

Phoenix

@janetm74 gift for @katblu42

the prompts: 1) Lee Taylor, 2) rising like a phoenix and 3) a bird with a broken wing, preferably a Thunderbird.

‘Uncle Lee, Uncle Lee!’ the twins shouted, rushing up to him and throwing themselves around his legs. He bent and scooped them up as their parents followed them at a more sedate pace, bemused smiles on their faces.

‘Tina, Vincent,’ Lee said, inclining his head to them as they all made their way back into the house, and the grins broadened. Some things would never change. As Lee sat down, one child on each knee, Kayo disappeared to get supper ready while Virgil entertained their guest. 

Or rather, while their guest entertained them.

Lucy Ruth and Grant Jefferson Tracy loved their Uncle Lee. Even if he couldn’t get their names, or their parents’ names right, he told the best stories. They didn’t get to see him as often as they would like, but every time he visited the island he made sure to spend some time with them.

Virgil came over and held his arms out for one of his children. ‘Come on, bed time,’ he said, taking Grant as Lee stood up with Lucy. This was often the highlight of his visit, and Lee wouldn’t swap this opportunity for anything.

Putting the youngsters to bed, Virgil and Lee exchanged glances, waiting for the inevitable request, and Grant didn’t fail to deliver. ‘Story, Uncle Lee! Story!’ he clamoured, his sister joining in. Lee grinned. ‘Which one do you want to hear?’ The children shared a glance, then squealed together: ‘The phoenix! Tell us about the phoenix!’

Lee chuckled. He’d lost count of how often they requested this one and he sat in the chair between the two beds while Virgil disappeared to assist his wife in the kitchen, safe in the knowledge that his two would be well looked after.

‘Well, Lana and Gerry, have you ever seen a phoenix?’ he started, and as usual both children nodded and pointed at him. He rolled his right sleeve up to reveal the faded tattoo. The phoenix, rising from the flames and ashes, screaming defiance to the sky. ‘That’s right. I got this after a particularly difficult rescue…

‘Damn it, Lee, that was too close!’ Jeff yelled, pulling Thunderbird Two up and away sharply.  The corresponding swearing told him that Lee was alright, if a bit shaken. The voice of his eldest came over the comms: ‘careful, Uncle Lee. We don’t want those roughneckers thinking you’re one of them rather than one of us rescuers!’ Jeff chuckled as Lee retorted rather sharply, ‘careful yourself, Spencer, we wouldn’t want you to…’ whatever he was saying was cut off by another explosion on the rig. 

Ribbing would have to wait, and both Lee and Virgil got the rescue platform ready for its’ last run, while Jeff used Two and Scott used One to stabilise the platform enough to get the last lot of workers off. John confirmed from Five that all emergency protocols had been initiated, and that capping the well now only required the special missile Brains had put together.

Scott fired the missile once the rescue platform was safely away in Two, and both ’birds headed back to the mainland. Two dropped off the workers at the hospital and they headed back home, Virgil flying and his dad co-piloting him. 

Not long after the four men could be found relaxing by the pool. International Rescue was still very new, that rescue had counted as their last single digit. Nine rescues in eight weeks. Sure they had started slowly, but as news spread about the organisation rescues were picking up. With all three of his eldest on board since the start, having had some background training in their respective fields beforehand, Virgil was now starting to go out and put his engineering skills to use. Jeff had made it very clear to his son that Two was his, but he needed some more training on the rescuing side before his dad would hand over control completely.

That was why Lee was here. Jeff and Scott may be pilots, but Lee was the engineer, as was Virgil, and Jeff had thought that his old friend and fellow astronaut would be ideal to help Virgil learn how to assess and react on the fly, as it were. Scott was an excellent commander, and could make snap decisions that were 99.9% right, but he wasn’t an engineer, and some of the decisions involving structural integrity and stability Virgil already knew how to call. It was what would make Scott and Virgil such a brilliant team – their respective skills complemented each other perfectly, they just needed honing.

Lee spent the next couple of days going over simulations with both boys, drills being run again and again until the two worked as one and they ‘won’ every time. They were fast studies, and Lee was more than happy at the way ‘Vincent’ picked up making decisions quickly, and his confidence at telling ‘Spencer’ when he was wrong or needed to take account of a variable.

He was preparing to return to Alpha Moon Base in two days. They spent his penultimate night with a barbeque, retelling how their dad and Lee had made the Mars landing, how Lee had needed to engineer a solution within seconds while Jeff was fighting to pilot the craft, how they barely made it. Sure, with every telling Lee embellished some part or other, but the overall story was not lost on Scott and Virgil. Always be aware of what you can use around you, think on your feet, Never Give Up.

The next morning all four were torn from their sleep by the emergency klaxon. 2:30 am was not a time any of them were used to getting up, but the ability to jump out of bed, dress and present oneself to the lounge for briefing Virgil was gradually getting used to. Scott never had a problem with this, his military training more than enough to prepare for this. John also didn’t have an issue with his NASA background. 

It was, so far, their third early morning call. Getting into the lounge last was not unusual, but at least he was awake. Scott passed him a coffee that he seemed to magic from nowhere, and he gratefully sipped the scalding drink while John filled them all in. 

A mine collapse in England with several workers trapped. However, the good news was that they had had notice, so the majority of workers had been able to get away. Scott was dispatched immediately, while Brains, Lee and Virgil poured over the plans of the mine and surrounding areas, checking geology and if there was going to be any surprises.  The only thing they worried about was that there were several ventilation shafts dug out over the larger area, which was a forest, and the possibility of an explosion of the gases that naturally built up was quite high. With that knowledge in mind, Two set off with the Mole, Jeff piloting and Virgil co-piloting.

It took Scott no time at all to reach the mine, and his report confirmed everything that they had already known and prepared for. As he set about organising what he could on the ground, Virgil and Lee went over the geology again, mulling over potential issues and discussing contingency measures. Jeff listened in, his confidence and pride in how quickly his son had assimilated to his role growing.

Lee and Virgil took the mole down, and it was a textbook rescue. Five miners, minor injuries only, it took around an hour to get them all loaded on the mole. The injured were loaded onto the waiting ambulances and International Rescue were thanked profusely. As they cleared away the equipment and loaded everything, Jeff looked at Lee and he nodded. It was time. As the four returned to the ’birds, Virgil was surprised when his dad walked past Two and carried on to One with Scott. Scott glanced back at his brother, grinning madly, and gave him a thumbs-up. 

‘Dad?’ called Virgil after them, uncertain despite his brother’s obvious glee. Jeff turned around and came over to his middle son, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. ‘Virgil, you performed really well on this rescue, both Lee and Brains said you made the recommendations yourself, you decided where to drill, you looked out the potential danger sites. You’ve more than earnt the right to fly your ’bird home without your old man standing over your shoulder.’ He thumbed over his shoulder to a waiting Scott, ‘that’s your brother’s privilege today.’ Scott mock-scowled, but he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face, and neither could anyone else.

One shot off into the distance. Virgil knew his brother would be waiting for him, but for the moment One was out of sight, and Lee huffed something about ‘show-off flyboys’ and ‘like father like son.’ Virgil just grinned. They were all flyboys really, well, except possibly Gordon but even he could fly competently (not that their eldest brother would ever admit that), only Scott seemed to have inherited their father’s love of speed so far. Alan may have, but he was too young to earn his wings yet.

Two rose more slowly – majestically was the phrase Virgil preferred, thank you very much – but she had her own turn of speed. The take-off may not be as impressive as her sister but compared to other aircraft his girl was fantastic. Using her VTOL’s to gain enough lift to engage her main engine, both Virgil and Lee kept an eye on the forest around them so they didn’t set fire to any trees. Trying to ensure he didn’t, Virgil nudged Two forward as she rose.

They hadn’t got far into the air when Lee suddenly shouted. But whatever he was shouting about was lost in the roar of an explosion that rocked Two violently, catching her back and left side, causing her to spin out of control.

Lee came too with several voices yelling for him and Vincent, er…Virgil. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but at the moment his concentration was all on shutting the voices up to stop his head from hurting. Oh, yeah. He needed to open his eyes to do that, and boy was that a mistake. Bright light assaulted him, followed closely by the smell of burning…he knew that smell, it was familiar to him. The smell of burning electrics!

It was the jolt he needed to get himself moving. Unbuckling his belt, he quickly checked himself over, nope, no injuries other than the cracked head and possible whiplash. He wiped the blood off his forehead while he stood up.

Second big mistake. He immediately doubled over and vomited. Ok, make that cracked head, possible whiplash and a concussion. But there was something more important he needed to do. The shouting was still shrill in his head and ear, but he ignored it, hauling himself over to check on Vinc…Virgil. The young man was out cold, a similar gash to his head.

It was the fire all around them that worried him. There was an extinguisher – Brains ever the overcautious, but this was extensive and he knew he needed to get them both out of there quicker than treating the flames would allow for. But as he tried the upper exit the resultant failure to open was no surprise. They would need to get out of the cockpit and the side door.

One of the advantages of being ‘space-trained’, as Lee often termed it, was that it taught you to think on the fly and to use whatever was to hand. And what was on hand, just outside the cockpit, was a prototype suit Brains was in the middle of designing for Virgil, to assist with heavy lifting. At the moment the bare bones were there, and it would be the best thing to use. Even if opening the door was easy, they would be surrounded by debris.

Good job he was strong, Lee reflected, hoisting Jeff’s middle boy into a fireman’s carry. This boy was heavy! He staggered out of the cockpit and into the service way, stopping before the entrance to the pod. The exosuit was housed here, a small area set aside for her, and Lee was thankful that he and Vincent were the same height as he carefully laid the lad down and got into the suit.

As with everything Brains created, the suit adjusted to fit him, and Lee marvelled at the engineering behind it. With a whirl of gears and pistons lee was moving, Vinny over his shoulder, over to the doorway. Thankfully this one slid open easily, Cahelium being so very tough, but outside the ’bird the forest was ablaze.

No sooner had Two got caught up in the fireball, Five had notified One, and a horrified pair of rescuers turned around and raced back in time to see her crash. Training taking over familial responsibilities, they set about using One’s cannon to blast the rapidly spreading fire. Jeff knew that One didn’t carry enough to douse this and directed John to call the local fire services. Scott set One down some distance away, both men inwardly seething at the distance needed because of the fire.

Their priority was to get Lee and Virgil out, so donning their fireproof suits Jeff grabbed two spare oxygen tanks while Scott grabbed extra fire extinguishing tanks, and the two set off while John constantly called to the downed men.

As Jeff and Scott burst through the forest they were met by an astonishing sight. Lee Taylor, resplendent in the exosuit prototype, Virgil over his shoulder, both bathed in the flames around them. The exosuit, still unpainted in this testing phase, shone reds and yellows. They appeared almost in slow motion.

Later, later Scott would mention how like the phoenix Lee looked appearing so suddenly. But right now, all their attention was focused on rescuing Lee and Virgil and putting out the fire.

…and once your Uncle Scott mentioned the Phoenix, that was it. Of course, that was the seed sown, but I didn’t get the tattoo straight away. Returning to Alphie was next on the cards, and it wasn’t until several years later, when your Grandpa Jeff was missing. When your Uncles Spencer and Alvin came to rescue me and Alphie was destroyed I felt that my life as an astronaut was over. Then Spencer gave me another chance when we went to Mars.

When Tina, your mom, came and found me I felt that I was given a second chance at life at my age, and I remembered Spencer remarking about the phoenix and I thought “that’s me, that’s my life.” Your uncles gave me my life back, a second life just like the phoenix. Then they went and rescued your Grandpa, and my third life began, teaching the next generation of Mars settlers.’

By the time Lee had finished both children were asleep, and Virgil and Kayo were wrapped around each other in the doorway. Hearing how their weird Uncle Lee saved their dad’s life never failed to fascinate the pair, and they loved the tattoo. Virgil had been honoured when he’d been asked to design it.

The three adults retired to the living room to reminisce. 

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #lee taylor #jeff tracy #submission

[its-lovelyhappycollection]

Ok, so I made a prompt about Gordon being stolen away at a young age and then finding his family here 

and then i wrote what I had, but I wasn’t happy with that, so I rewrote it again and changed some things up. and I’m happy with it, I want to post here so i can get your opinion on it!

Jeff Tracy couldn't be happier, he had a loving wife, and he had 6 healthy kids.

5 of them were currently running around in the park with some other kids playing tag. first, there was Scott, named after a Mercury 7 astronaut. most people would say that Scott was a mirror image of jeff when he was younger, he had the same sky blue eyes and chocolate brown hair. at the age of 8, Scott was a natural leader and a big brother, even when he was playing he would constantly look out for his younger siblings.

Next up was Virgil, also named after a Mercury 7 astronaut, he was a lot like his mother, gentle, kind, and had a talent for music and art, but he looked a lot like Jeff's father when he was young with the jet black hair. At the age of 7, he followed Scott around like a lost puppy, always copying him, especially when it came down to his younger siblings.

After Virgil came John, also named after a Mercury 7 Astronaut, even though he was only 6, John was hereby the quietest of his brothers, preferring to spend his days reading books under the shade of trees. like he was doing now. John resembled his wife; Lucy's father in many ways, he had the same red hair and turquoise eyes. But just because he was quiet, didn't mean he didn't look out for his siblings, even though it looked like he was engrossed in his reading, he would always be listening to his surroundings. If one of his younger or older siblings was upset, he would immediately drop his book and run to help.

Then came the twins, named Gordon and Kathryn respectively, both named after astronauts. Both twins had the same strawberry blonde hair and amber eyes, but that's where the similarities ended, Gordon was loud, cheeky and loved getting wet and causing trouble, already at the age of 3, Gordon was already causing trouble at kindergarten and lucy had to be called in 5 times this month to discuss his behaviour. while his sister Kathryn or 'Katty' as she had been dubbed by her older brothers (Gordon was older 2 minutes) was the complete opposite. She was smart, quiet (but not as quiet as John) and preferred to stay out of trouble. Sometimes jeff would wonder if there was a mix up at the hospital, but it didn't make any difference, he loved all his children equally.

Finally, there was Alan, the youngest of the tract family, even though he was only a year old, he was loved by all his siblings, with blonde hair and baby blue eyes he looked a lot like jeff's mother when she was young. jeff only hoped that his cooking skills were better than hers!

Jeff turned his gaze back towards lucy and saw her frowning, he saw that she was looking at the kids and turned his head towards them. after a few minutes, his eyes widened in realization at what lucy had noticed. "where's Gordon?"

####

Meanwhile, Gordon was blissfully unaware of the stir his disappearance had caused. he had seen a bright blue butterfly fly past him and he wanted to see it better, so without telling Scott, he followed it. he followed the butterfly as it flew further and further away from his family before landing on a flower. he sat on the ground so he wouldn't startle the creature. unknownst to him, he was being watched by a man on a bench a few meters away. just then the butterfly took off from the flower and flew high into the sky, Gordon watched it fly away sadly before standing up, he glanced around and realized that he couldn't see his brothers anywhere. Gordon began to feel panicked as he had never been in this area of the park before.

"Hey there kid," a deep voice behind him said, he turned around and saw a tall man with brown hair and green eyes staring at him "you ok?"

"I don't know where my family is" Gordon replied in a shaky voice

"hey, that's no problem, do you remember where they are?" at Gordon's shake of the head the man straightened and held out his hand "come on, we'll find them" Gordon sniffed and took the strange man's hand.

the man walked with no destination in particular, he reached into his pocket and pulled out chocolate, "here" he said and handed the chocolate to Gordon "you must be hungry, got to keep you're strength up if you want to find your family" Gordon took the chocolate

"thank you" he mumbled, remembering his manners and unwrapped the chocolate and put it in his mouth. after swallowing it, he began to feel sleepy, he struggled to keep his eyes open as the world began to spin. "what's..." he said weekly as he collapsed into the man's arms and the world went black...

#thunderbirds #WIP #gordon tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy #kathryn tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #lucy tracy #pre-series #sneak-peek #john tracy

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch20

I’ve been a little quiet for a bit because illness hit me hard (although thankfully not for too long).  I’m back though and I bring another chapter of the beast that keeps on growing.

Extra thanks to @willow-salix who had to deal with my post-fog writing going back a few stages and who helped beat this into some sort of coherency.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Twenty

The mood in the plane was buoyant and the air was charged with testosterone and bravado.  The transport flight was filled with Air Force personnel and their destination was Fort Hood, Texas.  Scott hummed absently, his fingers drumming out a little beat on his knee, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks, normally being a passenger on a flight made him agitated as he itched to be in the pilot’s seat but today was different.  

The Army was the designated host of this year’s United States inter-service sports tournament and Fort Hood was the location where, for the next few days those selected to represent their respective services would compete in their chosen sports.  

The tournament was supposed to be a friendly coming together of the various United States forces plus the various World Security Patrol branches, and for the most part it was friendly although it would be a lie to suggest there wasn’t a certain amount of posturing and goading underneath the surface.  For those taking part it was a chance to uphold the honour of their chosen service and score some one-upmanship,  for those like Scott who had been selected before it was also a chance to settle old scores.  

For Scott it would be a blessed interlude between missions; after his last assignment he was in desperate need of some R&R but with taking leave off the cards this came a close second for allowing him to decompress and see the good side of military life. It would be a chance to indulge in some physical activity that he didn't have to think too hard about, recently his life had been nothing but one exhaustive mission after another. For once he was happy to be free from the burden of command for a while, his primary mission now was to run fast, fight hard and add as many points as possible to the Air Force tally. 

His thoughts turned to last year’s competition; he’d done well and never placed lower than fifth in any of his events despite one Seaman Jeffries of the World Navy tripping him in 1500m, an action that by rights should have seen the man disqualified.  Unfortunately the rankings were upheld with Jeffries placing second while he had struggled to regain ground and claim fifth.  The injustice still rankled and he wondered if he would have to face the nefarious Jeffries again this year.

“Sir,” Scott called across to the Major who had been designated at team captain and was in charge of the Air Force contingent, “do you have a copy of the events list I can take a look at?” 

“Sure Tracy, I brought some spares just in case” Major Ellis replied, passing a sheaf of papers across the aisle.  “You’re up on the Wednesday afternoon for your track events and then Thursday afternoon for the martial arts.  See any familiar names?”

“One or two” Scott replied as he checked out the list of competitors.  “The US Army have put Moran in the hurdles again.  I’d love to beat him this time and wipe that smug smile off his face.  I’ve never met anyone so gloating.”

Having scrutinized the running order and competitors for his own events, no Jeffries, thank God, Scott began idly flicking through the rest of the programme.  As he scanned the lists he spotted a familiar name, wanting confirmation of his suspicions he pulled out his phone and sent a message. 

How far out of Fort Hood are you?

About 40 minutes came the response.  This was quickly followed by How did you find out? Everyone at home promised not to tell you.  I wanted it to be a surprise.  If it was Alan I’ll kill him.

Competitor list.  See you soon.

Scott let out an involuntary chuckle knowing Gordon would be mad at giving himself away and thus depriving himself of the element of surprise in any pranks he had planned. 

“What’s tickled your funny bone?” asked Ellis.

“It looks like you’re going to get to meet my kid brother.”

“Really?” Ellis asked curiously, opening up his own copy of the events list.  “Is he on the other flight?”

“No, Gordon isn’t Air Force, he joined WASP.”

“You’ve got a brother in WASP?  That’s a bit of a polar opposite to the Air Force.  I bet that didn’t go down too well at home.”  Scott had worked hard to build his own reputation but it was still well known who his father was and the Air Force pedigree he was following.  “Is he another sprinter like you?”

“Dad took a little persuading” a frown furrowed his brow at the memory of Gordon’s journey into WASP; ‘a little persuading’ really didn’t do it justice but he wasn’t going to have the family’s dirty laundry aired in public, “but WASP was the natural choice really, Gordon’s a swimmer.”

Major Ellis found the relevant page and looked over the listings.  The name Ensign G. Tracy leapt off the page again and again within the WASP entries.

“He’s all over the pool like a rash!  Talk about putting all your eggs in one basket.  Is he really that good?”

“You evidently don’t follow swimming that much.  I should’ve realised WASP would jump at the chance to put him on the squad.  It’s not often anyone gets to field an Olympic medallist.”  He couldn’t help the smile that split his face at the thought of seeing his brother swim again for the first time since the Games.  Gordon had dedicated so many years to his sport and had achieved glittering success that gave Scott a rush of pride at the memories.   

In the confined space of the plane their conversation was beginning to attract attention.

“What’s that about an Olympic medallist?”

“Dunno, ask Tracy.”

“Hey, Tracy, who’s got a medal?”

“My brother, Gordon.”

“You’re kidding!”

While Scott’s own unit might have been well versed in his sibling’s success story the competitors were pulled from across the Air Force, most of them complete strangers before boarding the flight.  There was a flurry of movement as a couple of people pulled out their phones and plugged the name into a search engine.  By now most of the plane was taking an interest.  It didn’t take long for someone to dig out one of the news reports; Gordon’s Olympic win had taken place less than two years previously and coverage was easy to find.

“Here, listen to this.”

Team USA continue their race to the top of the medals table with a successful day in the pool.  The crowning glory came from Gordon Tracy, a rising star in the swimming world, who not only achieved gold in the 200m butterfly but set a new world record in the process.  This achievement is made more remarkable in that Tracy is just 17 years old.

“That’s your brother!  And now he is on the WASP team?  Heck Tracy, can’t you do something like hide his trunks so the rest of us stand a chance?” one of the Air Force’s own swimmers exclaimed.

“No can do.  There is no way I’m sabotaging my own brother and don’t any of you think of trying anything either.  If you had ever met Gordon you would know that wouldn’t work anyway, he would probably just do the race butt naked.” 

xoxoxox

Gordon gazed listlessly out of the window of his own transport flight, the clouds forming an unbroken blanket below them, the vista bland and uninspiring.  After 4 fours in the air he was feeling bored, cramped and fed up.  He’d started the flight all keyed up at the thought of competing again but the long hours in the company of strangers was starting to wear thin.  For one thing there was too much trash talking for his liking, he’d never gone in for the verbal sparring side of sport but it seemed his companions very much viewed the other services as the enemy at this event.  It wasn’t an attitude he had encountered elsewhere in WASP and he hoped the bad mouthing would be constrained to these few days, it also wasn’t behaviour he could join in with in good conscious and so he had stayed quiet and kept himself to himself, trying to get back into competition mode after so long off the elite circuit.  A vibration in his pocket startled him and he pulled out his phone.

How far out of Fort Hood are you?

Without thinking he typed About 40 minutes and hit the send button.  Only when it was too late did it register who had sent the original message and he realised his mistake.  He had wanted to surprise his oldest brother, the one who was hardest to meet up with due to their differing military commitments.  He’d been able to tell the wider family about his selection during his period of leave over Alan’s birthday but with Scott away on his mission he’d been able to keep the news secret from his eldest sibling.  

How did you find out? Everyone at home promised not to tell you.  I wanted it to be a surprise.  If it was Alan I’ll kill him.

Competitor list.  See you soon.

Well, he supposed Scott would have found out in a few hours anyway and at least this way they would both be looking out for each other.  He wasn’t quite sure of the format of the event or how easy it would be to break away and hunt down a member of one of the other services.

xoxoxox

Gordon wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from competition or from Fort Hood but it looked like finding Scott wasn’t going to be easy.  Outside of their own events the personnel were able to watch the competition but there was very little free time beyond that.  Even if he could get away, finding his brother was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack; the different services were billeted all over the base and by the end of the first day all he knew was that WASP was sharing a dorm block with the Coastguard Service and a mess hall with the US Navy.  

Not that he had much time to brood, the swimming was taking place on the first day of the competition proper and after a hurried breakfast Gordon found himself hustled towards the pool.

He was looking forward to the chance of some competitive swimming again.  The specialist training on the Merlin had been intensive and the extended time beneath the waves had ignited a passion for marine biology but the cramped space of a submarine had hardly been conducive to physical exercise.  This competition would give him the opportunity to indulge in his first passion, he just hoped he was up to the task having been entered into far more events and across a wider range of disciplines that he was used to.

Aside from his trunks lacking the Team USA branding the competition was much like any other Gordon had attended.  A fair crowd had filled the viewing gallery but Gordon couldn’t tell if Scott was amongst those in dark blue.  Events were called, heats were swum (and usually won) and Tracy was once again a name to be reckoned with in the pool.  It felt good to be cleaving through the water again.  Despite not being in peak condition for swimming he was still in fine physical form over all and the muscle memory from all those races past carried him along to victory time and again.  The main difference to his usual style of competition was the lack of medal ceremony at the end and at the conclusion of his last race Gordon was able to wend his weary way back to the changing rooms where he flopped down on a bench. 

Pressing his shoulders against the cold tiles, eyes closed and head tipped back, the last of his energy was spent.  It had been a long time since he’d pushed himself to those lengths in the water and normally his race card was rather more sparse, one elite athlete among many, each responsible for their own specialisms.  The problem was, despite the high physical standards demanded by the military, elite athletes were in short supply and his pool times had placed him as primary candidate across more events than he was really comfortable taking on but he hadn’t felt able to say no to his superiors this early in his WASP career.

He concentrated on his breathing, listening to the hum and chatter of the other competitors around him, a cluster of WASPs gloating about their healthy position in the league table were his nearest companions.  He knew he ought to be getting dry, knew he ought to be digging out the tracksuit he’d been issued for the event, but his limbs felt leaden.  He wanted to be collapsed on his bunk but that involved moving and right now moving felt an impossible task.

“Gordon, eat something.”

He sensed a dimming of the light levels through his eyelids as a figure stepped between him and the harsh lights of the changing room.  The voice was commanding but his eyes stayed firmly shut and his body refused to obey. 

The figure in front of him was causing quite a stir but then that was typical of Scott.  He tended to exude an attitude as though he owned a place and this evidently wasn’t going down well with the WASPs around him who bristled with resentment at the young figure in Air Force blue invading their section of the changing rooms.  There were muttered jibes, reminiscent of those from the flight over, but the intruder wasn’t giving the WASP delegation the rise they so clearly desired.  Having failed in their goading one of his team mates decided to square up to the man they evidently viewed as the opposition.

“And who the hell are you to order us around, flyboy?”  

Scott’s eyes glittered at the challenge, a warning look that Gordon would have recognised from his own childhood had he been fully cognizant of the situation, Scott was not in any mood to be pushed. 

“That’s Captain to you” there was a pause as he took in the insignia worn by the other man, neither were in traditional uniform but the competition sports kit still had a place for rank slides; after all, the military thrived on hierarchy “Chief Petty Officer, although I accept you may not be familiar with the rank structures of the other services”  

Scott turned his attention back to his brother, ignoring the WASP who was now brisling after being firmly put in his place.  He was well aware of the animosity being directed towards him but his focus was his sibling, not some jumped up sardine with a chip on his shoulder.  He’d been concerned at the amount of events Gordon had pulled, and now, seeing his brother in the aftermath, he knew that concern had been justified.  The figure in front of him was breathing a little too shallowly for comfort and hadn’t moved from the moment Scott had spied him from across the changing room.  It had been a long time since he’d seen his brother swim himself to this level of stupor, years of competing had made Gordon pretty well attuned to his bodily needs, but evidently today he had neglected his post-race routine. 

Gordon had gotten as far as taking off his swim cap but no further, water dripped down his torso from the flattened hair that was still slick from the showers.  Even accounting for his time under the waves his skin was far paler than Scott was used to seeing.  He’d come down with the intention of congratulating his brother on his success in the water but now his primary concern had turned to Gordon’s basic wellbeing.  

Scott knew he had to get his blood sugars back up again.  He grabbed his brother’s kit bag and rooted around in the end pocket.  He allowed himself a small smile of triumph as his fingers closed around the packet of glucose tablets it appeared his brother still had the sense to carry.  He extracted two tablets from the tube and, crouching down in front of his brother, placed them in Gordon’s palm before closing the lax fingers over them.

“Gords, you still with me?  You need to get these into you.”

He paused while Gordon’s body processed the order, then let out a little breath of relief as the arm jerked up and Gordon began to suck on the tablets.  

He hadn’t seen his brother crash this bad since he was about twelve.  An early promotion to senior squad had seen the pre-teen eager to please his new coach while trying not to show anything that could be construed as weakness by his new and much older team mates and so the kid had forgone his post-race refuel.  The result then had been Gordon turning a grim shade of grey and falling off the medal podium in a dead faint.  

With the glucose tablets administered Scott turned his attention back to Gordon’s kit bag and pulled out a celery crunch bar, a firm favourite for the swimmer.  He opened it and placed it in Gordon’s now empty hand.  This was evidently an imposition too far for the WASP already disgruntled at being put in his place by the young captain.

“With all due respect Sir” there was a distinct sneer behind the formality “there’s no eating allowed in the changing rooms.”

If Scott’s eyes had glittered before, now they blazed with anger and contempt.  Rising from his crouch in front of Gordon, he drew himself up to his full height and positively loomed over the belligerent WASP.

“With all due respect I would have thought you would rather your team mate got his blood sugars up, or does your first aid training not cover hypoglycaemia?” He took a step towards the WASP, encroaching into the man’s personal space in a clear display of dominance.  “Not that you seem to be acting as a team right now.  Would half of you even be here if it wasn’t for the relay events, or maybe you tried to enter him for all four legs of that at well?”

With the glucose hitting his blood stream Gordon became more aware of the increasing commotion around him.  Voices that had once been jubilant now had a dangerous and angry edge and…yes...most of the anger seemed to be coming from Scott. 

Something tripped blearily in his brain; what on Earth was Scott doing here and why did he suddenly feel so cold?  Amber eyes cracked open and he forced his head open off the wall.  The movement was clocked by Scott who was back in front of him in an instant. 

“Hey Fish, you back with me?”  All traces of anger had gone as he turned his attention back to his Gordon, the Air Force Captain replaced by the brother of old; the caregiver with the ready supply of band aids, ice packs and gentle admonishment as he presented yet another injury for inspection.  

“Yeah, I’m...I’m good.”  He looked down in confusion at the crunch bar in his hand, not entirely sure how it had got there, but took a bite anyway.  “Guess I should have known better than to skip refuel.”

“Yeah, you should” 

Yup, that was the Scott he knew from Kansas.  Gordon felt like he was 9 years old again, being told off for being an idiot in the same ‘I told you so’ tone that had made it quite clear that of course jumping off the shed roof or using the frayed rope swing had been a bad idea. 

“Yeah, thanks for that” A snort, an eye roll, and a re-emergence of the same attitude common to his past nine year old self. 

“You’re okay now though, right?  You’ll finish your bar and get dressed?  Glucose tabs are back in the end pocket if you need more.”

“I’m fine, honest.”  Okay, the slight whine was a little too much like a kid but he was tired and there was something about Scott’s familiar care that had him regressing 10 years.  He forced protesting muscles to obey and hauled his back off the wall, rolling his shoulders to try and loosen the muscles that were rapidly seizing up.  He tried to suppress a groan at the exertion, he wasn’t quite ready to try standing until after the crunch bar was finished but he also knew Scott would not be pacified until he saw some sort of response.  The skeptical look he was given showed that Scott still wasn’t entirely convinced.  Mustering up his remaining energy he returned the look with a grin which seemed to appease the elder Tracy.

“Hmm”, Scott didn't sound like he believed him but couldn't argue it, “well, get dry and get your kit on.  You did good out there.  I’ll be on the track tomorrow afternoon; I’ll see you there.”  Without waiting for an answer Scott turned and exited the changing rooms.

The departure of the Air Force officer was followed with an outburst of grumbling from the WASP delegation.  

“Asshole.  Who the hell does he think he is, ordering us around?”

Gordon still hadn’t found his footing among the other swimmers, or the wider WASP delegation.  He might be the highest ranking of those at the pool but he was also by far the youngest and with the shortest amount of service under his belt by a country mile.  Rank structures overall seemed to be treated differently during the competition and these particular team mates seemed to have little regard for authority.  He was conscious that a wrong move now could make life distinctly unpleasant for him, he might never see these men again after the competition was over but he still had to get through several more days in their company.  He decided to play it for what it was; Scott being an irritating older brother.

“That was Scott.  I think he got the whole older brother thing hard wired in at birth.”

“You’re related to that?” There was a contemptuous sneer aimed at Scott’s retreating form that set Gordon’s hackles raising but he knew sniping back would be an error.

“Yup.  Of course, I got blessed with the good looks while he got the height.”  He flashed a grin, trying to diffuse the tensions.

“Is he always such a jerk?” a Seaman sat to his right piped up, finding his voice now the imposing Captain was no longer practically standing on his toes. 

Gordon shrugged; evidently the tensions were still there.  “Only when he needs to be.  I should’a thought to  grab the glucose tabs myself after that many races.  It’s been a while since I hit the pool competitively.”

There was a slight shuffling from the other swimmers, signs of guilt at not looking out for the young Ensign that had carried the team.  Scott’s words about the rest of them only being there to make up the numbers for the relay, while not wholly accurate, weren’t far off the truth.  They were all back in their dry kit while Gordon was still in his trunks, his skin still pale from the exertion even if his eyes had regained some brightness.

“Anyway,” he scruffed at his hair before drying off the rest of his body ready for dressing, “I need some real food after that and then I need to find out where the track events are being held.”

A snort.  “Well we’ll be watching the shooting tomorrow.  You can join us, or are you really going to do what big brother tells you?”  

There was a challenge in the tone but Gordon was feeling more alive again and less tolerant of their needling.  “I’m not going because he told me to, I’m going because he’s my brother and I want to.  In my family we support each other and Scott, well, he’s done a lot for me.”

Decision made and allegiances stated he swung his kit bag over his shoulder and headed out to find some food.  

#High Expectations #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Military brothers #Family comes first #swimming

[nlmorgan89]

Revenge

Jeff Tracy had been back on earth long enough to organise a surprise graduation for Alan when they got a call about a rescue in the Atlantic. Jeff should have been suspicious as John had said it was a Gold card members rescue, what ever that meant. What he was surprised about was after reading the names all his sons groaned and Scott, never leave anyone behind, Scott had asked if they were really needed. As a tidal wave was approaching them it was a neccesary rescue, what had happened to make everyone not want to rescue these people. He waited till everyone was gone before asking his mum.

"Why did no one want to rescue these people?" Jeff asked, she had been taking a nap and had not been there for the initial report.

"Who is it?" Sally asked, there was a sort list of people who her grandson's hated rescuing.

"Francois Lemaire and Langstrom Fishler. What?" Jeff asked again after she groaned and went to the desk calling Val.

"Tracy's if its about the Gold card members John already called us and I am on the way with some back up from The Mechanic, Rigby and Kayo." Val said she was sitting down in a cockpit already flying out to make sure that Scott did not do anything to tarnish the IR reputation.

"Thank god, just beware Lemaire already made Allie cry during his last rescue, if he gets upset you know what everyone else will do." Sally said, she had also sent Jeff copies of the rescues that the boys had done involving the Gold card members.

"Okay so you want me to deck him first before anyone else does." Val said the fact that she was serious was not lost on anyone.

"How did they survive into adult hood? Not even the boys managed to do half this shit in their teens." Jeff said, he wondered how both remained rich and working in their respective fields.

"I have no idea but I wont blame you if you want to throw your weight around, I remember your college days were some good times. Val, you and the Commando's where quite good at starting things and not getting caught." Sally said, they both grinned at that, but quickly went back to watching the rescue The Mechanic had assigned the ground and air crew with a dragonfly mecha and Gordon had his ray mecha. It was just a precaution so that no one was seriously hurt. Even John had EOS in drones so she could assist and keep an extra set of eyes on the family. While no one was hurt by some miracle was more down to the extra safety of the mecha's and EOS it was still time consuming. It would have only taken them an hour but it instead took them 7 hours so everyone was tired and hungry.

"Val are the Commando's still around?" Jeff asked once everyone was fed and in bed, Sally was in the hall listening them plan their revenge, she knew she should feel sorry for the poor idiot but they brought this on themselves. When the morning rolled around Jeff was watching the news and had to laugh when he saw the report.

"Yesterday, after International Rescue was called out to rescue the parties involved they were met with a rather pleasant surprise after waking to find themselves in a mysterious bubble. Maybe now they can let International Rescue rest and I am sure after seeing these videos the rest of the world will agree..."

"Why are they in a fish bowel?" Scott asked, he had wanted to thump them last night and had put that on the backburner after he had to hold both Virgil and Gordon back. Rigby and Val were to busy holding Kayo and The Mechanic back after he had made Alan cry, even EOS had placed John in quarantine lockdown so he didn't do anything stupid.

"No idea, but I would call that poetic justice. I am going to a lunch with some college mates on the main land, will pick up dinner so you don't need to cook anything mum." Jeff said, Sally was grinning she had not even heard Jeff leave the island but then it did not surprise her when he walked out and climbed into a SPECTRUM plane. Her poor family were totally confused.

Later... "Damn Jeff you have not changed at all. Shame Lee missed out on this?" Charles said, he was not surprised when a Commando's alert had gone out after he had watched the Tracy boys rescuing the idiots once more, even his own team had been called out during the Tracy's absence when they had gone to rescue their dad to save Lemaire.

"I have to agree, though it was rather fun," Samuel said, raising his glass to Jeff everyone followed suit. He too had wanted to kill Fishler after one of his machines almost killed the treaty that he had made with Titanica.

"So, what is the next prank?" James said, he was happy just to get away from his desk, it was no fun running a country but then he would not change it for anything.

"No idea, but we should team up next time prank wars break out in one of our divisions, show these youngsters how its done." Val said, she had been in a meeting reassuring the idiots that they had no idea how the bubbles had appeared and promising that they were doing everything in GDF's power to help them.

"Ready to watch Phase 2?" Jeff said, he had placed cameras around both houses so they could watch their pranks play out. Everyone nodded, as Jeff had only told them to come up with something to help contain all of his pranks thus the bubble. "Well hope they have a good cleaner on hand will secretly send them a massive donations once they have cleaned the buildings."

"Jefferson what exactly did you plan? Also congratulations on your re-election James." Val said, she was the only one that could get away with calling him Jefferson only because she could be as scary as Sally Tracy when she wanted to be.

"Thanks Val," James said, he noticed people snapping photos but he knew that they would not make it online thanks to Jeff's sons AI, EOS. "After lunch we should take a group photo for old times."

"Agreed, we should make it a regular thing too, we don't get breaks where we are able to leave work often." Samuel said, but started choking, how had Jeff added that much glitter to the water supply. Everyone was loosing it too for the sprinklers had started spraying the houses and yard with glitter. Poor Lemaire had just entered his shower and Fishler was doing his laundry. Jeff was grinning like that evil SOB that he was. Even Gordon's glitter bomb was tame compared to that.

"Is that really sanitary Jeff." Charles said, he was tearing up from laughing so much, glad he was best friends with him and not an enemy. That thought was going through all of there minds, it was fantastic having the master strategist back in charge. "Is that 'Sh*t List' playing?"

"Yes, OMG you even messed with all the audio devices dude." Samuel roared, he had to laugh they had discussed revenge songs and this one made the list only because of the one line. 'I grab my pen and I write up a list, of all the people that won't be missed. You made my shit list'.

"What can I say 11 years is a good way to expand ones prank list." Jeff said, which was truthful aside from thinking of his family he spent years thinking of ways to pay back Gordon if he decided to prank him once he was back. Turns out these three pranks were his best ones though he was saving the Kool-Aid in the pool for when Gordon was too much for the entire family. 3 hours later he was looking at the photo they had taken all his friends were surrounding him, and could not be prouder of his friendships and how even years later they were still great friends.

"Hi dad, who are they?" Alan asked, the boys had come in wanting to ask how his day away had gone, and surprising him with a visit by Lee Taylor.

"Hey Lee, boys, these are my college mates. Val your god-mother, Charles Grey the commander-in-chief of Spectrum's Cloudbase, Samuel Shore, commander of WASP, the last person is James Holland, president of the US." Jeff said, he watched as his boys stared open mouthed at this. Lee laughed, and clapped his friend over the shoulder, he had made it back and watched the news report of the bubbles that had appeared and realised his team had come together wishing he had been involved but kept his mouth shut. "Lee forgot to tell you James says you owe him some money after Moon base was destroyed."

#irrelief #@shirubie #gumnut-logic

[yarnzipangirl]

Stargirl E1 - First Impression

So I, of course, am a DC Universe subscriber so I got to watch Stargirl today instead of waiting until tomorrow.  TLDR - I’m SUPER pleased with it so far, because while it’s not mindblowing television like something akin to the 2019 Watchmen series, it’s good and solid and endearing and it loves it’s source material.

(very minor spoilers below)

First of all, I want to give props to the opening section where we watch the ‘demise’ of the Justice Society.  This, unlike certain other live action dramatizations, give this ‘destruction’ the respect it deserves.  This is a major event and so many members of the team get to either cameo or have their contributions seen and acknowledged.  Alan Scott may not be seen, but you watch an explosion of green fire and you know where it came from.  Wesley Dodds isn’t mentioned by name, but he’s among the fallen you see.  Jay isn’t seen, but there’s a charred helmet.  Lots of these little call backs and references, a reminder that these characters exist and fought, little treats for people who know the canon.  

Wildcat, one of the few we see outright, looks SO right I was just squealing in my seat.  I’m sincerely looking forward to watching Ted get his due (...we’re not talking about what Arrow did with him) and a quick view of Dr. MidNite also makes me excited for how Beth is going to take over there.  Also Hourman!  Already being more effective than he was the last time he showed up in a CW show... (Okay, okay, putting down the bitter...)

Joel McHale was definitely the ‘...whaaaat?” casting for me when it came to Sylvester Pemberton but I think he pulled it off pretty nicely and gave his own little signature flare to it as well.  The scene between him and Stripesy did make me laugh, which was no doubt helped by having seen the full run of Community recently.  I get the feeling they’re going to be blending a little bit of Jack into his characterization, but they still shifted him into ‘Starman’ well while keeping his Star-Spangled Kid roots.

The Cosmic Staff is definitely a slightly different thing than the comics have it, but I found the changes charming and the simplification of it’s origins entirely reasonable; for all that I love the comics, I wouldn’t say I’m a comics purist so much as I ask that they at least care about what they’re shifting and smushing as opposed to using something from a wiki article they read once to fill a plot hole in a narrative they already planned.  This definitely felt like they were changing things for an interesting narrative for the Stars, a woefully underloved superhero group since like... the 90s.  If we get more Stars of all stripes (badum ching) in comics or elsewhere, I’ll be a happy girl.

Courtney was... honestly really good.  Some of her early character points are the kind of thing I find a hard sell for appeal but the actress sold it and charmed me in spite of that.  She feels very teenager, as do the rest of the kids that are going to take up the JSA mantles; unlike some shows about teenagers, they don’t feel like a bunch of 20 somethings in designer clothing and bad haircuts.  I’m curious to see what they’re doing with Yolanda for plot and I thought Beth, what we saw of her, was adorable.  Rick... oh shoplifting Rick... I’m curious what they’re going to do with you.

The villains definitely seem interesting and the frame for the plot is very cool.  It’s an interesting set up in Blue Valley, and I don’t want to talk about it too much other than to say that there’s quite a few pieces that aren’t quite... right and they’re clearly not quite right for a reason as you keep watching.  The plot stuff is actually intriguing!  

Luke Wilson as Stripesy is... WAY more appealing and genuine and sweet than I was expecting and I care more about him than I thought I would.  Things I never thought I’d say: I feel like I care a lot about him and his family and that’s good acting and good writing!

The graphics are pretty darn nice, definitely on the higher end and just above the usual CW stuff, and both the fight scenes and the gymnastic bits are really neat and just enjoyable to watch.  The staff looks good and so does Courtney.  As do some of the powers and things we’ve seen.  I’m excited to see more.

All in all, it was an absolute treat.  While it’s clear that this story can only cover so much of the pieces of what I love about the JSA and the Stars, it feels like they’re giving enough nods to the fans of both to say ‘look, we know, maybe we’ll get to it if we have time’ because they’re focusing to make the plot feel right as opposed to ‘we don’t care, we took what we wanted from these stories, fuck you if you care about it’.  It feels like they want to tell more stories here, want to give us more, care about those of us who love these characters already and give us little extra things and not just to throw us scraps.  It was a good feeling and I feel like already, the JSA are in good hands.

...now all they have to do is go find Sand in Wesley’s basement and I’ll call it my favorite TV show ever.  *cough*

All in all, great stuff, can’t wait for more, totally pleased, high high hopes.  9/10

#stargirl #jsa #justice society of america #dctv

[gumnut-logic]

Tracy is an Irish Surname

Just a bit of fun and pure indulgence :D

Thanks as always to @janetm74​ @tsarinatorment​ and @scribbles97​ for the read throughs and support ::hugs you all::

I hope you enjoy this humorous fluff :D

-o-o-o-

“Tracy is an Irish surname. This is ridiculous.”

Scott fiddled with his ‘jabot’ or whatever the hell it was called. Virgil, of course, knew exactly what every piece of this damned costume was named. He eyed his artistic brother.

The smirk was annoying.

“Actually, some say Tracy is French.” Gordon, to Scott’s ultimate annoyance had managed to kit himself out without any issue. Probably had previous practice since this was all his fault anyway.

“I don’t care. I’m American and this is ridiculous.”

“A little respect for national dress, please, Scott.” Gordon was arching an eyebrow at him, desperately attempting to keep a straight face. His fish brother was enjoying this far too much.

Scott experienced a moment of distraction envisioning suitable retaliation once he made it through this pile of pageantry.

At least Alan seemed to be having as much trouble as Scott.

That prompted a flash of guilt at taking reassurance from his youngest brother’s predicament.

“I look stupid.” The astronaut was completely out of his element.

Scott took a step towards Alan, but Gordon beat him to it, fussing as very much the older brother.

“C’mon, Scott, it is only for a few hours.” Virgil, already as perfectly dressed as Gordon, stepped up to straighten the silly jabot thing and hand him his jacket.

Okay, so the jacket wasn’t the worst part of the outfit.

That was taken by the kilt.

Virgil looked right at home. Of course, he did. Plaid was his natural dress on any day of the week. But then Scott had to admit Virgil did wear it well.

The tartan they had chosen was logical, but a complete fantasy when it came to official tartans. Gordon had joked that they could register it as the tartan of Tracy Island, but that would require identifying their refuge in the South Pacific to the general public and that was never going to happen.

In any case, the tartan consisted of the colours of the five Thunderbirds on a deep blue background.

Virgil wore the kilt with the plaid tossed over his shoulder and pinned with a stylised metal version of his uniform patch. His jacket was trimmed in Thunderbird green.

Truly a costume.

The annoying thing was that with his faux mohawk hairstyle, Virgil looked like he was born into it.

While Scott felt like some gawky teenager with cold knees.

A knock at the door and John stuck his head in. “They ready yet?”

Virgil muttered as he fussed over Scott’s jacket. “Nearly there.”

And there was another thing – John. The man was a sociophobe. Scott respected that. Never pushed and even helped him avoid social engagements. But this one? John had been the first to put up his hand.

Scott had stared at him enough for John to worry if there was something wrong with him. “You usually hate this kind of thing.”

“Have you been to Edinburgh?”

“No.” It was amazing really. There was one place on the planet that had failed to collapse, blow up, or somehow otherwise self-destruct and need International Rescue.

Must be full of smart people.

“It’s worth it.” And John had stars in his eyes.

Maybe that was where the red hair had come from.

Scott settled for just glaring at him.

John had been his fallback plan and the red-headed menace had just blown it out the window and joined the enemy.

Betrayal burned.

Especially when John knew as much as Virgil about this costume and wore it as well or better than their artistic brother. Silly socks included.

Alan. Scott was going to cling to Alan, the only loyal brother.

As if to punctuate that thought, his little brother squawked at Gordon in protest. “That was skin!”

Pins, so many pins.

Virgil shuffled Scott in front of a mirror, lobbed the great swath of fabric over his shoulder, and pinned it in place with his stylised Thunderbird One metal pin. “There you go. As handsome as ever.” A grin as he eyed his brother. “You look good in anything and you know it.”

Scott glared at him sideways.

But he had to admit, Virgil was right, he didn’t look too bad. The blue, as always, suited him well, and standing next to his brother, the sense of a Scottish IR formal uniform came into play. He had a dash of Highland drama about him from one of those movies that both Grandma and Kayo melted over.

Not that Kayo would ever admit it, but Scott had seen those tears in her eyes…over a movie.

Maybe that was why Virgil wore plaid so much…for the girls.

Scott snorted at the thought, prompting his brother to arch an eyebrow in his direction. “What?” The eyebrow flattened into a suspicious glare.

“I was just thinking there might be a reason you prefer to wear so much plaid.”

“Why?”

“To attract girls.” Scott grinned at him.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sure. There are so many girls on Tracy Island. They’re flocking.” He picked lint, imaginary or not, off Scott’s shoulder.

Scott stared at Virgil a moment longer, frowning just a little, but then straightened.

Alan was tugging at his socks.

“Are we ready?” Kilt or no, he was still Commander Tracy.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Alan slapped a foot to the ground and stood up properly. Gordon picked lint off his shoulder in echo of what Virgil had done to Scott not a moment earlier.

Scott held back a snort.

Striding towards the door, he didn’t have to look back to know he was being followed. “Let’s do this.”

Twenty minutes later, all five Tracy brothers stepped out of their limousine and onto the red carpet at the main gate of Edinburgh Castle.

Holocams flashed, reporters yelled for their attention, and Scott’s knees froze…it was Scotland, for goodness’ sake.

But he stood at the head of his clan, Virgil at his right, John at his left, Gordon behind and Alan fiddling with his socks again.

Scott hissed. “Alan!”

Gordon snorted.

The youngest stood up, brushing his kilt back into place with an embarrassed grin on his face.

Scott’s lips twisted, but he turned, set his shoulders, and led them into the castle.

And tried to ignore the draught.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #I apologise for everything

[judedeluca]

Last Friday I Tried To Kill Myself: My Rant On Why Heroes In Crisis Is Destructive Garbage And Why Stories Like This Need To Stop Being Made

TW: Suicide, rape, abuse

I’ve made it no secret I’ve been in therapy since 2012, and I’ve especially been vocal about my dislike for DC Comics’ latest event book, “Heroes in Crisis,” which just released its last issue on May 29th 2019.

I tried to write something the other night but I didn’t like how it sounded so I deleted it. After my session with my therapist earlier in the day, she convinced me to simply write down what I feel regardless. And so I did. I typed and typed. This is pretty long under the cut. I don’t know if I got carried away. I think I did.

I need to be clear I did NOT just try to commit suicide because of how much I hated a comic book. I’d like to believe even I’m not that pathetic. I tried to kill myself because of a number of reasons which sort of snowballed together this previous Friday.

Look this is angry and long and it sounds ridiculous but I just wanted to write and get my feelings out and I’m sorry okay? I’m, just, I’m sorry. For being pathetic and a disappointment to my friends and letting this bother me so much.

But I’m talking about “Heroes in Crisis” because this book has been negatively affecting me since it began publication, and the state that it left me in this past week only served to exacerbate the negative thoughts I had to endure, and I briefly reached a point where I had a knife to my wrist.

I’ve been attending therapy for the past seven years in order to address trauma and abuse I suffered through in my adolescence. In grade school I was bullied, and from 6th to 12th grade I was sexually abused on two separate occasions in two separate schools from four different people. In middle school I was assaulted by three boys who weren’t much older than me on the bus ride home, where they grabbed my head and shoved my face into their crotches as all the other kids laughed. In high school a classmate molested me twice during art class, and spent the rest of that time trying to make me apologize after I smacked him in self defense.

In 2009 my family dissolved when my parents unhappily split apart, which placed me as the unwilling recipient of my father’s, mother’s, and sibling’s emotional baggage while my own problems were ignored. During the loss of my support system I juggled two jobs along with graduating from college, I came out of the closet and have been struggling to figure out both my sexual and gender identities, I made my first suicide attempt in 2013, and my best friend died in 2016 along with four other people I cared about or who saw me as a friend.

Seeking therapy was something I had to do on my own. I tried counseling sessions with the people at my college but despite their best efforts it didn’t do much to help. I never received counseling in middle school for my sexual assault and my parents weren’t of much help either despite it was clear I developed some significant behavior problems. In 10th Grade I did spend some time with a guidance counselor because they feared I was suicidal due to my depression around my bad grades in Chemistry, but again this didn’t really help.

God I realize how analytical and detached this is sounding and I don’t know why. I feel like I’m just listing everything. Ugh.

Aside from my suicidal thoughts I suffer from depression and PTSD. I think I’m a genuinely bad person and I’ve often thought I brought the abuse I suffered as a kid onto myself because I was a weird boy. I’ve wondered if I have a right to feel ashamed of what happened to me because it wasn’t as bad as what other people have gone through. I frequently think of myself as a shameless, greedy, manipulative person who doesn’t deserve to be happy because I use people. I’ve truly said some awful things to people and I know I’ve been blocked by a couple of people online and not without good cause. You need to understand that. My own sibling once said I was a wicked, blackhearted person.

I have trouble not assuming the worst of my parents and sibling because of how often I would find myself stuck in the middle of their arguing, which got me labeled a martyr whenever I tried to play peacemaker which I only wanted because I hate seeing them unhappy. I assume the worst about situations and I’ve spent countless nights lying awake thinking over and over again about past mistakes and how much I wish I was dead, or that I had died instead of one of my friends because they made the world a better place and I don’t. It’s easy for me to believe the world would be a better place if I died.

Often my problems had been ignored by the people I turned to for help. Ignored, looked down upon, or just belittled. It became hard for me to talk to people because it felt like no one really cared about what I was going through or that I wanted help. Or they misunderstood and their attempts to help failed because they didn’t really know what was wrong.

Despite all this I want to believe therapy has helped me deal with problems better than I had before, and helped me to take pride in what I have accomplished. I graduated cum laude with no student debt, I’ve held onto at least one job for over a decade, and I’m currently writing for three websites that have let me change my perspective on things and given me space to grow as a writer. I believe I’m better able to recognize boundaries and to let my feelings be known, and to know when not to engage in stressful situations. I’ve been trying, TRYING, not to let me depression and negative thoughts affect me too badly.

It’s not easy, but it’s better than not doing anything at all.

So, where does “Heroes in Crisis” fit into this.

Well.

Through middle and high school, comics were pretty much the only thing that managed to keep me going without having a complete breakdown. Well I did have other interests and I still do. I could never survive on comic books alone.

I didn’t really have any friends I could rely on or talk to about my problems, not in real life or online. I got lucky in high school since there was a comic store one block away, which meant I was now able to regularly buy comics instead of the odd issue here or there. It was after I graduated high school I finally began to make some friends through online message boards and by meeting people at comic conventions. So comics didn’t just keep me going, they helped me find the people who HAVE been able to help me and see me as an individual worth knowing. My very first best friend in the whole world (NOT the one who died) is a professional comic artist I met through DeviantArt. “Stuck Rubber Baby” helped me realize and be honest about the fact I’m queer, and it was through commissioning comic artists I’ve felt more comfortable about exploring my sexuality.

As cheesy as it sounds the presence of comics in my life has indeed helped me a great deal, and I want to professionally write comics someday as a way to repay some of that back and try to make the world a better place.

I’ve always bought a little bit of everything but I’m mainly focused on DC Comics. My favorite teams are the Titans, the Legion of Super-Heroes, the Doom Patrol, and the Justice Society. Ask me my favorite Flash, I’ll pick Jay Garrick or Wally West. My favorite Green Lantern, I’d pick Alan Scott and Kyle Rayner.

Suffice it to say I really haven’t been happy with most of what DC’s published in the past ten years. I’ve been especially vocal about my dislike for books such as “Rise of Arsenal,” “Titans” by Eric Wallace, and pretty much everything Scott Lobdell’s worked on. Like a lot of people, I thought “DC Rebirth” back in 2016 was a step in the right direction, that they were finally cleaning the mess they made with the New 52 initiative.

“Heroes in Crisis” proved me and a lot of other people wrong.

But as a person struggling with depression and PTSD, this book offended me on a whole different level compared to anything those other books have done.

So you’ve got a place, Sanctuary, where heroes and villains can receive counseling for their respective problems and possibly get help. That sounds like a great idea. And then the first issue opens with the reveal every patient has been gruesomely murdered save for two who believe the other is guilty. And it gets worse from there.

FIRST: It turns out Sanctuary has no actual doctors or therapists. It relies instead on a computer programmed with the supposed best traits of Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman.

SECOND: The patients are put in virtual reality chambers where they relive their respective traumas over and over again as a way to confront them.

THIRD: There doesn’t seem to be any real security except for a couple of robots, and anyone can just walk in. Which means Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman haven’t been monitoring the place until AFTER the massacre.

What followed was than eight issues of a supposed mystery that wasn’t a mystery at all. Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman do almost nothing to figure who was responsible for this, while Lois Lane is given files of all the Sanctuary interviews which she PUBLISHES, leaking hundreds of secrets that were meant to be private even if she obscures the real names. The investigation falls to Booster Gold and Harley Quinn, who both believe the other is the killer.

It eventually turns out the killer was Wally West, who accidentally unleashed a burst of energy that killed those around him and in a fit of extreme suicidal despair violated the corpses to look like a mystery so he would have enough time to release the Sanctuary files and then kill himself believing it was the only way to make things right. He doesn’t die but turns himself in at the end.

I-I don’t have the energy to give a complete rundown, I really don’t. Suffice to say the book has problems. Racist problems, homophobic problems, and ableist problems. The series IS a problem.

Since the first issue was released I hated, I HATED, this comic with every fiber of my being. I hated the stilted writing and I hated the gross, overly sexualized artwork. I hated it was another event series built around cheap shock value deaths meant to drive up sales and garner controversy to make more sales. And I especially hated the premise, that this Sanctuary was supposed to be a place of healing but was anything BUT. The DC Trinity make no attempt to get real doctors to help them provide help for their comrades and friends, delegating everything to a computer that’s supposed to have their best qualities and assuming THAT is a decent substitute for qualified psychiatrists and therapists.

The very IDEA that Superman and Wonder Woman could be so arrogant and conceited to believe they could substitute for licensed medical professionals is appaling. Even Batman on his worst days would never be so inconsiderate.

And then there are the VR chambers, where the heroes relive their traumas over and over and over again until they can get over them. THIS IS NOT HEALTHY. To experience such pain over and over again. The comic even demonstrated through characters Lagoon Boy and Wally West that going through their trauma again and again clearly wasn’t helping. Lagoon Boy relieved the Titans East massacre HUNDREDS of times. And this seems to be the only real option Sanctuary allows besides the confessionals.

This, this NEGLECT. Sanctuary isn’t a place for healing, it’s a dumping ground! These people are secluded and essentially kept in solitary confinement where they have almost no one but a computer to talk to. A computer that does absolutely nothing to help them.

I spoke to my own doctor about this and she agreed with me none of this was healthy and that the book itself was extremely damaging and poorly thought out.

And I have spoken to her about this a LOT over the last nine months, because with each issue that came out I felt myself getting more and more worn down. I would dread the last Wednesday of the month knowing the next issue would arrive. And let me tell you this wasn’t the only thing I was talking about in my sessions, but it figured a lot into my past discussions and my therapist respected that. I’m glad I have her in my life, she’s a consummate professional. 

I’m not talking about simple fan boy hate. This comic DRAINED me and struck more than a number of nerves. The apathy and insensitivity that went into crafting this book reminded me far too much of what I’ve gone through in life and not for the better.

For starters, the way Tom King portrays the problems the characters go through is nothing but a joke. We’re treated to multiple confessional sequences where different characters talk about their issues in a nine-panel grid layout featuring some of the most stilted dialog I’ve ever read. King shows absolutely no research or care in the characters he talks about, ignoring their backstories to make up nonsense and present it as deep when in reality he’s gutted them from the inside out.

The one that bothered me most was Roy Harper from the first issue, in a confessional sequence one page AFTER his corpse is found.

Tom King took nine issues to completely destroy and misunderstand Wally West’s character, even though he only needed one page for Roy Harper.

Of course Scott Lobdell spent eight years destroying the character, so King didn’t need to do much.

Roy and his daughter Lian have been two of my favorite DC characters for years. I’ve been able to relate to Roy’s issues a lot over the years. Not his past drug addiction, but his struggles with depression and abandonment issues and his fight to try and be a better person despite everything he’s gone through. He was raised in a Native American community and probably has a better understand of racism than most white people could dream of. He’s a devoted father who tries to be the best dad he can be for his daughter. But most importantly, he knows he can screw up and he knows he’s not perfect. He just wants to be good. He’s a complex and multifaceted person who is more than his trauma, and I’ve long admired that. I’ve wished I could stop beating myself up over my past mistakes and just focus on doing good instead of hating myself for not being perfect. As someone who never really had much support from my parents growing up and that feeling of being totally alone despite being surrounded by people, I empathized with the neglect he suffered form Green Arrow and the way he was essentially abandoned in “Rise of Arsenal” when he needed help the most.

But is any of that discussed in “Heroes in Crisis?”

No.

Roy’s abandonment and depression are ignored so Tom King can churn out some nonsense about abusing prescription meds given to him by doctors for his superhero injuries before he switched to heroin because it was cheaper and safer. Not because of his depression. He only started taking the meds because of his injuries and he got addicted, which I’ve seen a number of fans who suffer from chronic pain complain that this is ableist for presenting them as drug addicts.

God I hope I’m remembering that right, I’m sorry guys.

“So you go to a needle. To save your kidneys. And some money. But really, isn’t that what superheroes do? Save things?”

Objectively one of the worst things I have ever read in ANYTHING.

But it doesn’t stop there. Pretty much every character given a confessional more or less has the problems they truly did survive ignored for nonsense that never occurred or is completely out of character to the point it feels like these are SUPPOSED to be jokes. Firestorm talks about his head being on fire. Green Lantern Hal Jordan doesn’t know what “Will” is. Raven says her father, an inter dimensional monster who has tried to turn her evil over and over again and whom she hates, loves her. Minor character the Protector is revealed to be addicted to multiple drugs and was only an anti-drug crusader because he thought it was funny. That was just CRUEL.

I... I have spent so long being ashamed of a lot of the abuse I went through and it is still hard for me to talk about. Do you have any idea how disgusted I am with myself whenever I try to tell someone about what happened to me in high school? When I have to figure out a way to say that “He tried to stick his finger in my ass” and not think about how the people reading or hearing this must be laughing at me it’s so pathetic? Or when I think about the crying fit after my first day of high school begging my mom to take me out of this school and she tells me to suck it up?

And so this bothers me, because I frequently fear that my problems are just a joke. And I see the characters whom I resonate with have their problems degraded and treated as poorly thought out jokes.

Why were some of these characters even here in the first place? To deal with their problems? Even though some of them WERE ALREADY TRYING TO GET HELP. Roy in particular had his Titans teammate Lilith Clay as his substance abuse counselor, but none of that is mentioned in the lead-up to “Heroes in Crisis.” The help that Roy was already getting was ignored. His efforts at self improvement were ignored by those around him.

But it’s not as bad as the reason Wally West was in Sanctuary. In “Flash War” Wally regains memories of his twin children Jai and Iris and is told they’re not in the Speed Force but SOMEWHERE. And Wally tries to find them and can’t. So instead of Barry Allen getting the Justice League to help with the search, knowing the disappearance of these children are one example of how the universe has been damaged, Barry and Iris West allow Wally to be taken to Sanctuary to essentially get him to shut up about his missing kids. He is abandoned by the people he viewed as parents. And this is what leads to Wally’s breakdown. Despite knowing his children are out there somewhere, “Heroes in Crisis” tries to demonize Wally for wanting his family back and it’s used to make him into a suicidal mass murderer. Wally’s problems make him into a villain. He’s driven mad with grief when he hacks the Sanctuary computer thinking no one has gone through what he has, and is broken when he experiences all that trauma at once. All this because he wanted something that was perfectly rational for him to want.

Wally’s trauma is used to dehumanize him.

The dehumanization doesn’t stop there, especially in the case of Poison Ivy who is turned into a plot device for Harley Quinn’s sake.

Never forget this was a thing that Clay Mann drew and DC would’ve used before it got leaked.

This was supposed to be the cover for the seventh issue, Ivy’s bloody corpse done like a pin-up.

After being treated as Harley’s motivation for most of the series, Ivy’s revived but in such a way she’s lost most of her humanity. She gets turned into a rip off of Swamp Thing and her body is more plant than human, no longer having nipples or a vagina. She’s been murdered and brought back in a way that will let DC sexualize her as much as they want now that she’s not human anymore. But this is supposed to be treated as GOOD because she’s supposedly more powerful now and she’s alive. Like that doesn’t change the shameful way she was killed, and how she came to Sanctuary hoping to get help for the awful things that haunt her and it got her killed.

Ivy’s long been a very complex character herself and many people have looked at her as a strong, interesting, intelligent queer woman who ultimately only wants to save the Earth and be with the woman she loves. But she’s frequently the villain in her stories and often told she doesn’t understand what real love is. Instead of being recognized for the complex character and inspiration she is, Ivy also has her trauma used against her as an excuse for to be sent to die and LITERALLY be dehumanized. So what does that say to the women who resonate with her? The queer readers? What does that say?

The leaking of the Sanctuary files is also supposed to be seen as good. Wally claims he did it because he thought if people saw someone like him could make a mistake, they’d get help before he did something bad like him. That if they saw their heroes had problems, they’d get help too.

IT’S TRYING TO VALIDATE THIS VIOLATION OF PRIVACY AND HOW ALL THESE PROBLEMS ARE TURNED INTO A MEDIA SIDESHOW THANKS TO LOIS LANE AND SUPERMAN.

And Wally turns himself in he’s left to rot in jail, more alone than ever. Where’s the supposed help now?

But Booster Gold gets to hang with Blue Beetle and Harley’s with Ivy and it’s supposed to be about hope by showing no matter what mistakes you make it’s not too late and blah blah whatever that last issue was. It tries to pretend all this suffering and misery was worth it because now Wally really can represent hope by being an example!

Bros before heroes!

These people went to get help or were sent to get help, and instead they were ignored. They were killed. Their problems turned into jokes. They had their problems used against them after they died when all they wanted was to be better.

WANTING TO GET BETTER IS NOT A REASON WHY ANYONE SHOULD HAVE TO DIE. NO ONE DESERVES TO BE TREATED LIKE AN AFTERTHOUGHT LIKE THIS.

One of the worst thing out of all this is knowing NONE OF THE CHARACTERS USUALLY ACT LIKE THIS. The reason why Wally accidentally killed everyone is because King makes up a retcon involving the Speed Force that was never, EVER mentioned in any Flash comic before. He makes up things on the fly to justify why any of the characters are there at all. Someone once said how, and I’m paraphrasing, “A story should be made to fit the characters, the characters shouldn’t be made to fit the story.” It’s been clear to a lot of people this book was blatant character assassination and Dan Didio’s latest attempt to finally get rid of Wally West because he hates him and all the other legacy characters so much. A story about PTSD that could’ve been meaningful and helped people got hijacked to destroy a character. To use their trauma as a tool to make them do something horrible. To exploit trauma for shock value and dehumanize not just the characters but the people who read these books and identified with the struggles and I

HATE IT!!!!!!! 

It hurts because so many people care about these characters, and Didio would use a story that could’ve been uplifting to carry out his petty hatred.

This has been it, month after month for me. I’d get mad, and I would try to take my mind off it. I’d write fan fiction and commission artwork making fun of “Heroes in Crisis,” I’d try to vent on the internet and explain why I hate this comic. I’d connect with friends and other fans who’re equally unhappy, and I’d just feel myself getting worse and worse. I’ve had trouble sleeping thinking about this comic, stress dreams and laying awake at night before I’d start to think about how I’m a bad person too and wishing over and over again to die and end everything. To stop being a blight on the world and give it to someone who deserves to live. More importantly, that crushing sense of not being able to do anything to make this better. This powerlessness to try and change things for the better. Wishing I could do something to make it better and thinking about all the other ways I’ve failed in life. The loved ones and friends who died and I couldn’t help them. The unhappiness in my family. The state of the world. And then I’d think about how much I hate myself even more because there are more important things to worry about in the world, like what that rapist monster in the White House is doing to this country and to anyone who’s not a straight white man.

The week the final issue came out I knew right off it was going to be a train wreck and I was right. A disappointing ending to a disappointing story. More feelings of anxiety and self loathing and a feeling that my problems are nothing but a joke to mocked and exploited.

While all this was going on I had other things to worry about. In March my grandfather was hospitalized with a number of health problems due to a urinary tract infection. He spent a week gradually becoming confused and losing energy before he was taken to the emergency room when he said he was having trouble breathing. It turned out he also had a cyst, a clot, and bleeding in his brain. As me, my mom and sibling worried about his health we also had to worry about our house because my grandfather pays most of the rent and if his pension had to go towards a nursing home, we would have to move. So while worrying about my 92 year old grandfather’s health I also had to worry about possibly losing my house. And while he was recovering at the rehab hospital he had to go back to the ER again on Easter when we were told he fell during the night. He’s in another nursing home and he’s doing better thankfully, but he’s also the last grandparent I have and I’m not ready to lose him when he’s held onto his mind for so long.

So what exactly happened when the ninth issue came out that pushed me?

This past Thursday while I was at work, I get a call from my mother saying she thinks someone might be in our house because she went downstairs into my grandpa’s apartment and all the doors were open. I don’t know why she didn’t call the police or what she thought I could do since I wasn’t even in the Bronx. *Sigh* I tried to get my dad to come pick me up sooner so I could check out what was wrong and I was trying not to panic even when my mom texts me saying she’s okay but she locked her bedroom door and she’s got a blunt object. Then she says maybe it was nothing after all...

And then I get home and I see the garage door is wide open and it’s a disaster, as if someone trashed the place. I can’t get my dad out of the car and he just says “Call the police” as if he doesn’t care. I run into the house and begin checking the rooms in my grandpa’s apartment before grabbing a kitchen knife and going back to the garage. I then tell my mom what’s happened to the garage and it’s like I’m invisible. I can’t even get her outside to look and she’s more concerned about getting her dinner from around the corner. She tells me “It’s not like no one’s gotten in the garage before.”

AFTER SHE GETS ME WORKED UP THINKING SOMEONE WAS IN OUR HOUSE. AND I COME HOME AND THEY MIGHT’VE TRASHED THE GARAGE.

I literally can’t understand what was going through her head when she gave me this runaround. And I call her on it the next day, telling her how scared she got me and how it felt when she acted like I was making a big deal of nothing. I was frightened she could’ve been alone in the house with an intruder, because obviously she felt the same way if she wanted to lock herself in her bedroom. She STILL acted like it was no big deal and it’s like 2010 all over again and I’m being expected to drop everything to help her and she won’t give me any courtesy or empathy.

And then not even an hour later that Friday I get an email from my boss about a secret shopper thing and I rush to get my phone seeing he’s tried to call me. And he’s saying he’s mad at me because of something I did on Tuesday that might get our distribution license suspended or taken away completely. I’m thinking this is because of me. Because I screwed up. And I’ve had this job since I graduated high school and I might’ve ruined it completely.

And that mixed with how it’s like my mother has played fucking mindgames with me and all the other feelings and the general anger and hopelessness and thinking over and over it’s not going to get better I picked up that knife again and held it to my wrist while my boss was still on the phone.

I had it pressed against my skin and wanted to dig it in deeper.

I kept thinking “I CAN’T DO THIS I CAN’T DO THIS” seeing everything all at once, over and over again and...

I-I don’t know. Maybe just a part of me that said not to do it or something. Maybe because despite all my talk of wanted to die I don’t.

I don’t want to die.

So I put the knife down before I cut myself.

I went to work at my second job and I scheduled an emergency session with my therapist, and I tried to write.

So it’s Monday morning and I’m typing this and wondering now, if anyone actually reads this what kind of shit will I expect if people actually bother to read it.

I’m a loser who needs to get a life

I read the story wrong

I didn’t understand the story

I need to get laid

I’m just mad my favorite character died

I hate it because Tom King’s a good writer

I’m a contrarian who hates it because it’s popular

I don’t know what I’m talking about

I’m a whiny f****t

I’m conceited enough to think Tom King may ever actually read this and have him say “I’m sorry you reacted this way”

This isn’t the story King wanted to tell and he had good intentions

OH SCREW YOUR FUCKING “GOOD INTENTIONS”

My teachers had “Good intentions”

My parents had “Good intentions”

AND I AM STILL FUCKING PAYING FOR IT

I am so sick of hearing about “Good intentions.” Just because a person had good intentions doesn’t absolve them of messing up! King apparently handed in a basic outline and let editorial pick the characters. If King had good intentions, he would’ve bothered to do research on the characters instead of turning them into jokes. If he had good intentions he would’ve done a better job of showing how therapy actually CAN help people. He wouldn’t have given us a story all about death and suffering and say it’s about hope. If he had good intentions he wouldn’t have let Didio use this to get rid of Wally West.

You want to talk about people with ACTUAL good intentions? How about we talk about the people out there who’ve written about abuse and trauma and suicidal thoughts and how to address those things in ways that MATTER. In ways that don’t alienate people and can grant a better understanding of ways to act.

In ways that say “I see you. I understand you and know what you’ve gone through. You’re stronger than you think.”

Let’s talk about Jeremy Whitley writing “The Unstoppable Wasp” where Nadia Pym has a manic episode and attacks her friends, and has to be talked down from killing herself by her friend Priya because her own brother committed suicide.

Let’s talk about how Priya describes the world Nadia would create if she killed herself and convinces her she deserves to live because she makes everyone happy and she is a good person no matter what she is thinking right now.

Let’s talk about Magdalene Visaggio’s “Eternity Girl” where Caroline Sharp is a suicidal immortal superhero who wants to destroy reality because she thinks it’s the only way she can die, and her girlfriend Dani convinces her that she can build a new world for herself instead of destroying this one because Caroline’s stronger than her misery and has the power to choose what she wants.

Let’s talk about Chris Claremont’s disgust at how Carol Danvers had been brainwashed and raped and sent off to live with her rapist while her friends did nothing to help her and thought this was a HAPPY ENDING

Let’s talk about how he had Carol dress down the Avengers for the shameless way they treated her and abandoned her when she needed them

Let’s talk about Jim Salicrup and Louise Simonson working on the “Spider-Man and Power Pack” special which showed the right ways to address child abuse.

How Salicrup was able to make Spider-Man into a sexual abuse survivor without it being a joke and how his story helped a little boy tell his parents what happened to him. And how this helped Spider-Man accept what happened to him was not his fault.

How Simonson wrote about the Power Pack supporting a friend being sexually abused by her father and how they convince her she did nothing to deserve this.

Let’s talk about Rachel Pollack’s Doom Patrol run which showed that trauma is not the end of someone’s existence and that people can be happy despite what’s happened to them

Let’s talk about George and Marion who despite the trauma of having lost their bodies and being used as slaves they still choose to smile and enjoy life and love each other

Let’s talk about Kate Godwin, a transgender woman who changed her body to match the person she was inside despite what people said about her and treated her, and found a community that supported her and loved her and is a strong, good woman with the power and the empathy to help others

A woman who was outraged when a person tried to make her believe she’d been gang raped and needed trauma to make her life more meaningful.

SO TALK ABOUT ALL OF THEM AND TELL ME ABOUT KING’S “GOOD INTENTIONS”

NO ONE NEEDS TRAUMA IN THEIR LIFE TO MAKE IT MEANINGFUL. FINDING HAPPINESS AFTER YOU’VE SURVIVED SOMETHING HORRIBLE DOESN’T MAKE THAT SOMETHING HORRIBLE JUSTIFIED.

You can’t look at stories like “Heroes in Crisis” and say “Oh it’s okay because in the end it was worth it because it taught us something” and NO. IT IS NOT OKAY. HAVING YOUR PROBLEMS LAUGHED AT AND MOCKED AND DEGRADED AND TRIVIALIZED IS NEVER OKAY. NOT FROM THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT. NOT TOTAL STRANGERS. NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO DO THAT.

So yeah, maybe I am fucking pathetic for ranting about this and I should get a life and talk about more important things but I don’t fucking care! I’m angry about this and I’m gonna be angry for a long time! I’m angry about this story and I’m angry about how it affected me and the people I care about and people I don’t know and I will always be angry with myself that I tried to kill myself because of how this book made me feel and affected what I was going through.

Because stories are important to our lives. They can help us get through every day and they can make our problems not seem so bad. They can give us the strength to look at the bad parts of our life and think maybe they can change. That WE can change. We read about these people and we connect with them. We see things in them we wish to be like or things that are already in us and it can make us feel like we aren’t alone.

And even when stories aren’t enough they can help us find the people who can tell us these things. To help us find people who would care about us, and to care about them so maybe WE can help them. They’re a gateway.

So no, it’s not just a fucking comic book. And no, I don’t care what the intentions were. And I don’t care how pathetic this all sounds.

This, this was a bad story. This was a harmful story. And people deserve better. We don’t deserve to keep living in an age where stories like this, that can make us feel like we’re nothing, keep happening. We deserve stories that show us our lives are not defined by our trauma, we are NOT jokes, we are strong, and we deserve to live. That is not what “Heroes in Crisis” was and you will never convince me otherwise.

I had problems long before this story came out. I do not blame it for things that happened to me before. I do not blame it for my assault and abuse. I blame it for making me feel more like I don’t deserve to live and that what I’ve gone through doesn’t matter. I blame it for making me feel like my hard work and attempts to make my life better are meaningless.

This is not okay.

You wanna fucking blast me for this, go right ahead.

#dc comics #heroes in crisis #the flash #wally west #roy harper #arsenal #speedy #red arrow #titans #teen titans #poison ivy #pamela isley #tom king #clay mann #jeremy whitley #the unstoppable wasp #nadia pym #priya aggarwal #doom patrol #rachel pollack #kate godwin #coagula #marvel comics #marvel #spider-man #peter parker #power pack #jim salicrup #louise simonson #magdalene visaggio

[tsarisfanfiction]

After Sundown

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Alan, Grandma, Scott

Four for four!  (ish, we’ll ignore that it’s technically 2am on the 5th here right now).  #fluffember day four: ‘jacket’, and once again making it not angsty was a challenge so we’re back in my ‘melancholy fluff’ mode.

Scott didn’t let Alan help with the big things, but he didn’t say no to the small things.

Tracy Island was always warm, but when the sun went down, the darkness of night had a way of leeching heat regardless.  Alan knew that, especially in the depths of winter when it never got cold enough for snow, but did still get cold enough that a single t-shirt wasn’t enough to keep warm.  All his brothers knew that; even Gordon begrudgingly left the pool alone after sundown during winter months, at the insistence of Grandma, Scott and Virgil. Alan had even heard John reminding him once or twice.

His brothers knew that, but in true older brother fashion, they sometimes decided that the rules didn’t apply to them.  Gordon was enough younger brother rather than older that he couldn’t get away with going out after dark in just his Hawaiian shirts, and Virgil liked his thick plaid even in the height of summer, while John was inevitably off planet.  Scott, though.  The epitome of ‘do as I say not as I do’, Alan’s biggest brother sometimes just vanished and came back hours later pretending he wasn’t shivering and grasping for the hot chocolate Virgil immediately placed on the counter for him.

Virgil wasn’t there this time, off playing glorified taxi for Thunderbird Four as Gordon headed out to tackle a sinking ship somewhere off the coast of Africa.  Kayo was off doing who-knew-what who-knew-where in her usual Kayo way, leaving Alan alone with a tutting Grandma as the sun dipped below the horizon and Scott showed no signs of reappearing from wherever he’d gone this time.

A hot chocolate sat on the counter, a joint effort between him and Grandma.  Part of Alan wondered if Scott had a sixth sense for that and was staying out just to avoid being forced to drink it.  Unlikely, but not impossible.  Alan’s brothers had shown stranger abilities (he still hadn’t figured out how Scott and Virgil both managed to have eyes in the back of their head. John swore up and down it wasn’t him telling them whenever he and Gordon did something, and despite the odds Alan believed him).

“Where is that brother of yours?” Grandma asked, irritation and worry present in equal measures. Alan frowned out at the darkness.

“Do you want me to go find him?” he asked, anticipating the answer to be no but asking anyway because Scott had been gone a long time and he was worried, too.

But she didn’t say no immediately, and he glanced sideways at her in surprise.  “…Give him another ten minutes,” she eventually conceded.  “Then we’ll get John to track his comm and you can go drag your irresponsible brother back inside.”

“F.A.B.”  Ten minutes was a long time to just wait, so Alan made himself busy.  Trusting Grandma to tell him if Scott came back – or at least scold him loudly enough that he’d hear – he retreated to his room to pull on his heavy-duty boots and hunt down Grandma-approved after-dark clothes.

A thick jacket, bordering on overwhelmingly so in the warmth of the villa itself, a fully-charged comm unit, a flashlight and an emergency first aid kit were all gathered and shrugged on his person before he left his room again, heading back to wait out the rest of the ten minutes with Grandma.

Passing Scott’s room, he paused.  Had Scott..? No.  He pushed the door open quietly, peering through the doorway.  It was empty – of course it was; Scott was out – and he tiptoed in, feeling like he didn’t belong there.  That wasn’t true of course; Scott had an open door for all of them at any point, as much as they tried to respect his space, but it wasn’t the same when he knew Scott wasn’t in there.  The room, decked out in varying shades of blue and decorated sparsely with images of jet planes, didn’t feel the same when it was empty.

Still on his tiptoes, Alan hurried through the room, making a beeline for his brother’s closet and picking out the biggest, warmest jacket he could find.  It was huge, and a little heavy, emphasising the ‘big’ in big brother, and Alan clutched it to his chest as he beat a hasty retreat from the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Grandma gave him an approving smile, although still tight with the knowledge that Scott hadn’t come back, when she saw it.

“He’s on the cliffs,” she told him, her voice just as tight.  “John says he hasn’t moved in a while, but vital signs are stable.”  Alan found himself wrapped in a hug.  “Be careful out there.  I’d go myself if my hip wasn’t playing up again.”

“Yes, Grandma,” he promised, returning the hug.

“Now go get your brother before I follow you in one of your fancy machines.  And stay in touch!”

“Yes, Grandma.”  He peeled away from her grip and started the trek to the cliffs.

Compared to some places on the island, they weren’t all that far, but they were out of sight of the house. It took Alan five minutes of carefully watching where he was putting his feet to reach them, and another ten seconds to locate the moonlit silhouette of his brother, sat down on a rock and staring at nothing.

As expected, he was just in his day clothes.  Alan padded up behind him and draped the thick jacket he’d scrounged from his closet over his shoulders.

Scott jumped, jerking his head around to face him.  Surprise coloured his features for a split second before he relaxed again, although he did nothing about the jacket.

“Why are you out here, Alan?” he asked.  Alan rolled his eyes and nudged him insistently before crossing his arms and glaring down at his sitting brother.

“It’s after sundown,” he pointed out bluntly.  “Grandma sent me.”  Well, he’d volunteered, but Grandma hadn’t said no.  “You’ve been out here for hours.”

Scott blinked, glancing around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time.

“I must have lost track of time,” he admitted.  “Are Virgil and Gordon back yet?”  Alan shook his head, reaching out and tugging insistently on the jacket draped over Scott’s shoulders until he begrudgingly pulled his arms through.

“What’s wrong, Scott?” he asked.  “This isn’t like you.”

Scott’s face twisted into something Alan couldn’t name, but he didn’t think it was happy.  “It’s nothing, Alan.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Scott,” he complained, unhappy at the brush off.  Scott shrugged, but offered a thin smile.

“It’s really nothing,” he said.  Alan doubted that very much, but knew Scott well enough to know he’d was the last person his brother wanted confide in, what with his overprotective smother henning tendencies.

“Then let’s get inside before Grandma comes chasing us down in a Pod,” he shrugged, trying for a bit of levity to hide his frustration that Scott wouldn’t open up about whatever had had him sitting on a rock staring at nothing for the last several hours.  He’d sic John or Virgil on him later, if Grandma didn’t get there first.  For now, he just offered Scott a hand up.

“Did she threaten that?” Scott asked with a sigh, but he did accept the help to his feet.

His hand was cold, and Alan made the executive decision not to let go, even when Scott tried to lightly tug it back.

“Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p’ the way Gordon had taught him.  “So let’s move.”

He didn’t mention the hot chocolate waiting for him when he got back in.  Scott could find that one out the hard way.

He also didn’t comment when Scott stopped trying to reclaim his hand and instead returned the grip. Ice cold fingers tickled his palm; Alan just held them tighter.

Scott might not talk to him about things that were bothering him, but that didn’t stop him finding other ways to look after his big brother, even if it was just a jacket and a warm hand.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #alan tracy #grandma tracy #scott tracy #fluffember #thunderfluff

[reading-writing-revolution]

This is long but it is important. Thanks for this!

#resist

This is where I stand. I feel that our 45th President, his Cabinet and administration, and the majority of Republicans in Congress are a real and active threat to me, my way of life, and all the people I love. Some people are saying that we should give Trump a chance, that we should "work together" with him because he won the election and he is "everyone's president." I am willing to do all of that if/when his policies seem reasonable. However:

•I will not forget how badly he and so many others treated former President Barack Obama for 8 years...

•I will not "work together" to privatize Medicare, cut Social Security and Medicaid.

•I will not "work together" to build a wall.

•I will not "work together" to persecute Muslims.

•I will not "work together" to shut out refugees from other countries.

•I will not "work together" to lower taxes on the 1% and increase taxes on the middle class and poor.

•I will not "work together" to help Trump use the Presidency to line his pockets and those of his family and cronies.

•I will not "work together" to weaken and demolish environmental protection.

•I will not "work together" to sell American lands, especially National Parks, to companies which then spoil those lands.

•I will not "work together" to enable the killing of whole species of animals just because they are predators or inconvenient for a few, or because some people want to get their thrills killing them.

•I will not "work together" to remove civil rights from anyone.

•I will not "work together" to alienate countries that have been our allies for as long as I have been alive.

•I will not "work together" to slash funding for public education.

•I will not "work together" to take basic assistance from people who are at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder.

•I will not "work together" to get rid of common sense regulations on guns.

•I will not "work together" to mark transgendered men and women as something to fear.

•I will not "work together" to eliminate the minimum wage.

•I will not "work together" to support so-called "Right To Work" laws, or undermine, weaken or destroy Unions in any way.

•I will not "work together" to suppress scientific research, be it on climate change, fracking, or any other issue where a majority of scientists agree that Trump and his supporters are wrong on the facts.

•I will not "work together" to criminalize abortion or restrict health care for women.

•I will not "work together" to increase the number of nations that have nuclear weapons.

•I will not "work together" to put even more "big money" into politics.

•I will not "work together" to violate the Geneva Convention.

•I will not "work together" to give the Ku Klux Klan, the Nazi Party and white supremacists a seat at the table, or to normalize their hatred.

•I will not "work together" to deny health care to people who need it.

•I will not "work together" to deny medical coverage to people on the basis of a "pre-existing condition."

•I will not "work together" to increase voter suppression.

•I will not "work together" to normalize tyranny.

•I will not “work together” to eliminate or reduce ethical oversight at any level of government.

•I will not "work together" with anyone who is, or admires, tyrants and dictators.

•I will not support anyone that thinks its OK to put a pipeline to transport oil on Sacred Ground for Native Americans. And, it would run under the Missouri River, which provides drinking water for millions of people. An accident waiting to happen.

This is my line, and I am drawing it.

•I will stand for honesty, love, respect for all living beings.

•I will use my voice and my hands, to reach out to the uninformed, and to anyone who will LISTEN:

That "winning", "being great again", "rich" or even "beautiful" is nothing... When others are sacrificed to glorify its existence.

If you agree, feel free to copy and re-post (this results in larger numbers of people seeing a post than sharing...just press your finger down on your phone screen, hit "copy", go to your Facebook...comment by pressing your finger on your comment area and hit "paste"), and if you want, sign your name below ours.

Also, if we have left anything out, feel free to add it to this list.

Signed:

Annette Joseph-Walker

Denise Edlow

Patricia Rollins Trosclair

Andrea Dora Zysk

George Georgakis

John Christopher

John Bowles

Patrick St.Louis

Carla Patrick

Darnell Bender

Vickie Davis

JMichael Carter

Janice Frazier-Scott

Rev. ELaura James Reid

Jeanette Bouknight

Rev. Dollie Howell Pankey

Gerald Butler

Carolyn McDougle

Vaughn Chatman

Adrienne Brown

Gary Trousdale

Steven E Gordon

Isis Nocturne

Debi Murray

Maureen O. Betita

Mona Enderli

Fernie James Tamblin

Myrna Dodgion

Alan Locklear

Tom Wilmore

Jackie Evans

Donna Endres

Lora Fountain

Roberta Gregory

Heather A Mayhew

Stevo Wehr

Nathan Stivers

Jen RaLee

Joan Holden

Leigh Lutz

Deborah Kirkpatrick

Linda Levy

Tom Rue

Nancy Hoffmann-Allison

Beejay McCabe

Michael James Myers

Edward T. Spire

Rupert Chapman

Dawn R. Dunbar

Robin Wilson

Monique Boutot

Laura Brown 💪🏼

Susan Aptaker

Steve Katz

Bonnie Wolk

Risa Guttman-Kornwitz

Angela Gora

Butch Norman

Sharon Tolman

Sue Zislis

Maurice Hirsch

Satch Dobrey

Jim Krapf

Don Starwalt

Deb Johansen

Daniel Anderson

Diane Kenney

Rebecca Koop

Nancy Shuert

Bill Pryor

Patrick Lamb

Bob Travaglione

Margaret Ragan

Martha Peters

Steve Wilson

Lauren Sullivan

Scott Bevan

Roger Saunden

Jane Ayer

Alex Simon

Laura Gross

Kevin Geiger

Michael Mikula

CJ Niehaus

MaryLou Mateja

Robert E Mateja, Sr.

Diane williams

Joseph Mele

Brenda Horne Bain

Laura Love

Christine L. Linde

Carlotta Spears

Kate Schmidt

Antonia Nelson

Mayo Underwood

Jackie Miller

Daniella Zimmerman

Margot Kovacs Fulmer

Ann Denison

Devney Schendorf

Matt Wheeler

Monica Bruno

Debbie Pierson

Rachel Licitra

Carol Mele

Dan Moldovan

Ray Miller

Diane Miller

Joey Frank

Lisa Del Sordi

Philip J Ofiesh

Carol Mulligan

Michelle Gonnering

Darian Gavin

Scott Meek

[davidmann95]

Hey David. What in your opinion are the best comic writers from each decade? Starting with the 60s since it’s your area of expertise.

Going by superhero stuff:

30s have gotta be Jerry Siegel, right?

40s and 50s I both give to Otto Binder.

60s I suppose it simply has to be Stan the Man Lee.

70s I’ll go ahead and say that while there were plenty of superb talents, it was an era caught between the naturalism of later eras and the operatic/cartoonish bluntness of what came before it, rendering a lot of even the better stuff awkward. So if we’re essentially talking about what’s aged the most gracefully, Jack Kirby’s work retains the most power and entertainment value in my opinion, even if I still have to read most of Fourth World. If we’re talking in terms of defining the era though, Denny O’Neil.

80s is the other easy one, Alan Moore.

90s is easily the toughest - Moore’s still in the mix on the fringes, Grant Morrison’s on JLA and Doom Patrol and Flex Mentallo, James Robinson’s got Starman, Mark Waid all over the place and easily winning the ‘definitive’ category for doing more than anyone here outside the Image founders in shaping the era, Garth Ennis is doing Hitman and that kinda counts, ditto Neil Gaiman with Sandman, Kurt Busiek’s throwing Marvels and Astro City out there, Warren Ellis kicking off his reign with Stormwatch. I’m gonna go way, WAY off the beaten path though and say Scott McCloud nets the honor for his work on Zot! as basically a perfect superhero comic; since it’s pretty much all he did he by default has the best average output.

The 00s in principle should be the toughest. Ellis on The Authority, Planetary, and for good measure Iron Man: Extremis, (either he or Mark Millar would be this era’s winner as the ‘definitive’ creator), Waid with more good stuff, Matt Fraction and Jonathan Hickman and Jason Aaron, Ed Brubaker and Greg Rucka, Brian Bendis and Geoff Johns striding across Marvel and DC respectively as unto colossi, Moore penning Americas Best Comics, some would throw Joe Casey’s name into the mix, Robert Kirkman’s astonishingly high batting average on Invincible, Darwyn Cooke with Batman: Ego and DC: New Frontier, Ennis gets another ‘depending on how you look at it’ with Punisher, and Busiek with more Astro City and Superman: Secret Identity and JLA/Avengers. In practice however, this is the decade where Morrison did All-Star Superman AND New X-Men AND Final Crisis AND Marvel Boy AND the first major chunk of his Batman epic, so it’s actually pretty clear-cut.

I suppose it’s possible for the 10s that another name could blow in and seize the crown. As is, in spite of tapering off hard we have Mark Waid dropping the mic every issue for 5 straight years with Daredevil (on that ALONE I would give him the title of ‘definitive’ again without hesitation for the ripple effects - without that we don’t get Hawkeye, and therefore the creative thesis behind Marvel NOW!, and therefore basically everything good to come out of Marvel this decade), Hickman emerging into his full power, Ellis hitting and running with a few all-killer-no-filler stints, Tom King being Tom King, Morrison still putting out Action Comics and the rest of Batman and Multiversity, Steve Orlando sailing under the radar with consistently great stuff, Tom Taylor rapidly emerging as a fan-favorite whose voice is I think just going to become more influential over time as the encapsulation of what this website specifically wants to see in its superhero comics, Fraction with the aforementioned Hawkeye alongside wrapping up Iron Man and soon doing the Lord’s work with resurrecting Superman’s Pal Jimmy Olsen, Aaron frequently killing it, Scott Snyder as this generation’s supreme purveyor of popcorn entertainment, and dang, at this rate of progression Chip Zdarsky will probably be able throw his hat the ring if he can’t already. But for consistent high-quality execution I just don’t think anyone else this decade can top Al Ewing.

#Superheroes #DC Comics #Marvel #Opinion