#sensorysunday

[gumnut-logic]

A quick guide to Nutty’s blog

Hi, everyone, new and old to this blog.

Been meaning to write this up for some time. Finally just sat down and wrote stuff because it needs to be done since I’ve recently been posting a few more things in one topic and a few less in others.

This blog started off as a fandom blog. It still is. You will see fanfic and art from the amazing Thunderbirds fandom, both mine and others posted here regularly. Along with prompts, discussions, challenges and other shenanigans. Love da Thunderfam.

If you haven’t already worked it out, Virgil is my fav Tracy brother, but love them all really and write them all to varying degrees.

However, I also post art and craft here, so you will see some of that. Some of you may have followed me recently for this reason. If so, welcome!

One handy thing to know is that I’m a librarian and this blog is tagged within an inch of its life. So with a little fiddling with Tumblr, you can follow/block any tags of mine you want to, or don’t want to see.

So here is the key to my blog :D

For the Thunderfam:

Nuttyfic is where you will find all my original posting of my fic (except the very early ones - it took me a bit to clue on that I might want to find my stuff one day.

Nuttyfic reblog is where I reblog my previously published stuff at a whim or because I wanted to at some point. These are all repeats and formatted differently from my new fics. you can block this one if you find them annoying.

thunderbirds fanfiction and thunderbirds fanart are basically what they say. Everyone’s, including mine, blogged, reblogged, whatever. If you are looking for a particular person’s work on my blog, all work reblogged by me has the artist’s name tagged to the post. For example, tracybirds, gaviiadastra, soniabigcheese, thatkidwholikesthunderbirds, etc

Flyboytracy, our amazing gif-maker, I plead guilty to reblogging a lot of their stuff (though likely only a fraction of what they have done - find them at @flyboytracy )

TBDailyDose is my tag for all my screen shots. So if you are looking for art reference, this might be a great place to start. Admittedly, you will discover how often I reuse favourite shots, but there are a lot of headshots in that pile. I really should capture more.

I’ve also tagged for character content - Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Grandma Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Hiram Hackenbacker, Jeff Tracy, Eos, Penelope Creighton Ward, Aloysius Parker.

Bro combos - earth and sky, fishtank, astroturf - not a complete list this one and many more recent than some of the other tags.

There are some relationships tagged as well - virgil/kayo, scott/em, scayo, virgil/brains, gordon/penelope (pen and ink) - if you are not a fan of romance, I’ve have been tagging for that for about the last year, so it can be blocked if you desire.

I have also tagged all my major series, but you are probably better served by visiting my Ao3 account where everything is in order. But since I’m here...Kermadec AU, Supermen AU, Steampunk AU (and Where there be dragons AU), Callisto, Marks and Wings, Warm Rain, Gentle Rain.

And then there are some of the challenges held in Thunderfam - fanartam, fabfivefeb, irrelief, sensorysunday, nuttys fandomversary, fluffember.

Wow, that’s a lot of stuff.

For those of you not into fandom:

nuttybeads - all my crafting, which tends to be mostly beading, but does include crochet and micromacrame as well as whatever else catches my eyes and my wallet :D

nuttyart - admittedly this does include some fanart, mostly Thunderbirds, but from time to time, I do other stuff - like I should be doing :D

I’ve also recently started a palette challenge, for however long it lasts - you can find it tagged nuttypalette.

There will also be geeking out over nature topics and the occasional piece of photography usually of beaches, sunsets or critters.

And that is pretty much it in a nutshell (a very big nut in my case :D)

I hope you enjoy whatever you end up following here.

Nutty

(off the edge, but learning to fly)

#nutty is nuts

[louthestarspeaker]

Gravel

For @gumnut-logic‘s Sensory Sunday! I’m going out of order, so this one’s for Touch. It is also a of now untitled, and whether or not it will gain one in the future is very much up for debate. Edit: Now with title! 

The gravel crunched under Gordon’s feet, but he couldn’t feel it, not through the soles of his boots. Maybe not even if he’d been barefoot. He was numb in a way that seemed all too familiar, though the feeling- the lack of feeling- wasn’t physical this time. 

It was internalized, coating his mind instead of his muscles. A protection mechanism, John had explained the first time he’d felt this way, oh so long ago. When too much bad happens, your brain just… shuts the door to keep from feeling worse. It was meant to be like armor. A shield.

Distantly, very distantly, Gordon felt guilty for needing the protection. He was fine. He hadn’t gotten hurt. He could still walk. That’s what he concentrated on, walking.

Forward. Forward. Forward. Stay forward.

But his mind kept taking him back.

Back into that building, back with that kid. 

He was young, seventeen, he’d told him. His birthday had been two weeks ago. He was looking at different colleges. 

He could be someone’s Alan. 

“I’ll get you out.” Gordon had said to him. It was a promise, Gordon didn’t break that part. “You’ll be okay.”  

The boy was lying in pieces-

No. No going backwards. No slipping into his head- nothing was good in there right now.

He was going forward. Forward.

Gravel under his feet. Crunching under the soles of his boots. Sun on his hair and blue in the sky. That day was supposed to be bright. Probably looked bright to most people. The color looked leeched to Gordon. Leeched and pale and almost- almost- dead.

Except for where the green was. And he was ever so grateful for green because green meant Virgil, and Virgil would know what to do with the emptiness in Gordon’s chest. 

Yawning like the cavity of the floor that had opened up and swallowed him. 

Him and that kid.

And Gordon was fine. He had all the gear, and the training, and Virgil in his ear who’d shouted out a warning.

The kid had none of that. 

And when he fell he didn’t get back up. Would probably never get back up.

There were shouts and whispers and reassurances. Gordon remembered that. Remembered the feeling of his voice in his chest as he called for a backboard and a c-collar and it’s okay, just stay still, you’ll be alright.

That time it wasn’t a promise. It was a lie.

It was a lie because there was no warmth in the sun. And no color in the day. And Gordon was walking, crunching the gravel, and he was lucky for it. But also so very, very guilty for it.

At least he made it to the green.

Virgil was packing equipment, and Gordon didn’t know what he looked like, but whatever it was was enough for Virgil to throw down his tools and run to meet him. For a moment his big brother’s emotion was raw on his face, a breathless sort of pain, the kind that comes when you thought you’d made it through intact.

Virgil’s hands were gentle as they touched down on Gordon’s shoulders, his eyes open and concerned as they met Gordon’s own. He didn’t ask the obvious “are you okay”, and Gordon was glad for it, because Virgil would make him admit he wasn’t. And Gordon hadn’t even admitted that to himself yet. 

He’d made it through unhurt. He could still walk, numb as he was. He was fine.

Judging by the suddenness and strength of Virgil’s embrace, he wouldn’t agree with Gordon’s self assessment. 

Gordon sighed deeply, sinking into the steadiness that was his big brother, feeling- feeling… not much of anything, actually.

There were arms around him, but there was no rush of calm or peace or comfort. 

What had Johnny told him about the numbness? It was meant to be armor, but it was less of a shield and more of a cage. It trapped you inside. Didn’t let anything in. 

“You have to let yourself feel, Gordy.”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because there was no sun, no color, all there was was a numbness in his mind and a yawning emptiness in his chest and- and-

And a pebble in his shoe.

There was a little piece of gravel caught between the bottom of his foot and the sole of his boot. A tiny pinprick of pain right behind his big toe. A spark of a feeling.

There was a sob in his throat now too.

Virgil’s arms held tighter, his hand reaching up to encourage Gordon’s head to rest on his shoulder. “You saved his life, Gordon.”

A whisper, fearful and regretful. “He’s gonna wish I hadn’t.”

Gordon knew that feeling, that despair, he knew it intimately. The stillness and the horror of all the doctors saying impossible. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, much less a kid who could be someone’s Alan.

Virgil’s arms tightened evermore, voice low and husky. “His family’ll always be grateful, though.” 

Oh. 

Oh, that must be a feeling Virgil knew very well, because it was said with such conviction, such deep belief, that the rumble of it echoed in Gordon’s own chest. It knocked loose the numbness, and slowly, slowly, that cavity of empty began to fill.

The emotions rushed him and he sobbed, sobbed, sobbed into his brother’s shoulder, and Virgil just held him. But there.

There was the calm and peace and comfort that was meant to come with his brother’s arms.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #sensorysunday2020 #sensorysunday #lou writes things

[eirabach]

Interregnum

1 : the time during which a throne is vacant between two successive reigns or regimes. 2 : a period during which the normal functions of government or control are suspended.

This one is for @gumnut-logic‘s final(?) Sensory Sunday challenge “Sixth Sense” AND it’s canon to Savages (a missing scene between chapters five and six, so, chapter 5.5). I’d say you don’t have to know what’s going on to enjoy, but it would probably help? Otherwise just have at some sad kids being starcrossed in a liminal space. Love you all.

The thing about is knowing, is that it’s an art.

Not like music or painting, not a portrait of a lady or a soft serenade, no, nothing so simple nor so easy as that. 

A man can be taught to draw, a child trained to sing, a woman can write ream after ream of nonsense, fill pages with dreams and desires until her fingers bleed and her heart falls into the page an empty husk, her life's work a thing to cast out on the wind. 

Knowing is different. 

Knowing is being four years old, and a man coming to your door in the dead of night.

It had been the door of the manor, not the door to her room, but it was her door even then. Her mother had been long gone, her father already hardly more than a ghost, and she, the Lady of the house, had tucked herself away on the grand staircase, watching as the dirty faced man in the torn jacket had spluttered in a language she didn't understand, a sack of tools at his feet, a crowbar held tight in his grubby fists. The stranger hadn't seen the narrowing of round blue eyes as he'd concentrated on the lock to her father's study. 

He hadn't known, but she had.

She'd known her father would come, known the butler would drag the stranger from her sight, and Nanny would carry her away. 

She'd already known what would happen when her father called her down that morning, that he’d tell her, "This is Parker, he's a friend."

The man had smiled at her then through newly broken teeth, and Penelope had nodded, sure and certain, because she is, was, will always be, because knowing is something you're born with. It's a prickle up your spine. The skipped beat. A hum that no one else hears, and Penelope has always known. Good or evil, friend or foe, love or hate. Always. It’s what makes her so very good at her job, so perfect a hostess, so subtle an interrogator. That well honed ability to look a man in the eye, just once, and be utterly and entirely certain of the content of his soul, and it has never failed her, not once.

Until now.

Now the only thing she knows is that she absolutely cannot be seen to cry. Far too unseemly. Weak. Pathetic. The paparazzi smother her as she leaves the hotel, buzzing like mosquitoes as Parker opens the door and she offers them a media smile -- sweet, coquettish, slight -- that she has no idea if she actually achieves.

"Lady Penelope! Lady Penelope do you have any comment on Jeff Tracy's return? Do you --"

The door slams closed, a sign of Parker's wavering restraint, and cuts the reporter off.

Does she have any comment? Not one fit for publication in a family paper that's for sure.

Family, and just the thought sticks in her throat, makes her chest ache and her eyes burn, because God, but she’d thought she’d known that at least. Pitiful, silly girl. 

"Milady?" Parker's gentle, because he knows her, and she must look frightful all flustered and wet eyed because when he looks in the mirror she sees the way his brows draw low in concern. "Where to?"

And she doesn't know that, either. Doesn't have a clue, only, "Anywhere, Parker. Anywhere but here."

---

Gordon loves his father.

Loves him with a fierceness that pounds through his veins, that thunders his name in time with the rhythmic smack of the duffle against his spine, the thud of feet against asphalt.

Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad.

He loves him so much that he hates him.

He hates the way he's so sure, so certain of every damn thing all the goddamn time, and hadn't Gordon been sure? Hadn't Gordon been certain? And then he'd died and then he hadn't --

Two hundred yards ahead of him FAB One merges into New York City traffic, just a pink blur lit by camera flashes with a pull on his heart so hard he feels like it might be torn in two.

Might.

Two just seems kinda restrained, kinda delicate, compared to the crushing, sickening feeling behind his breastbone. Seems like something that might be fixed, somehow, stitched back together when all Gordon's doing is falling apart.

Falling apart and catching the damn car.

Scott's the runner in the family, old skinny legs can eat up the miles like Alan gobbles brownies, but Gordon's no slowcoach. The traffic's on his side, keeping Parker at a crawl, but the pack of salivating paparazzi aren't. They crowd between him and his goal, dark shades and darker grins sharp as shark teeth as he struggles his way through.

"Is that --?"

"Yeah! The one with the rocket?"

"Nah man, the other one, the swimmer."

"What the hell is he --"

He doesn't hang about for the end of that one -- wouldn't know the answer if he did -- instead he barrels through the chattering crowd and launches himself at the back of the car.

He realises, half a second too late, that Parker has ways of dealing with people who are stupid enough to stay on FAB One's tail.

"Aw shit."

---

“What in the blazes?”

She has her compact open, drafting the letter that she absolutely must send to Colonel Casey but has no idea how to write, and the jolt as something slams into the rear of the car sends it skittering to the ground at her feet, the screen cracking as it bounces off the console.

“Parker?”

“Already on it, Milady,” her erstwhile Chauffeur states grimly, his hand moving toward FAB One’s defences as she twists her body round to try and get a better look at whoever has been foolish enough to ram them.

“Oh my -- Parker don’t!”

But it’s too late. She catches a last glimpse of tow-headed blond as thick, dark oil arcs out, and then she’s launching herself at the door of the still-moving car, Parker’s squarks of displeasure blending into the furious clattering of two dozen paparazzos all throwing their cameras up at once.

Gordon lies amongst them, just two huge brown eyes in the pool of filth she’s left in her wake, and, lord above, if that isn’t a thought she doesn’t want to examine too closely.

“Gentlemen,” she says it like she was taught to, like she means it, like she wants all those cameras to turn on her and this time, only this time, she actually does. “Please, do excuse us. Darling?”

It’s a considered choice, the pet name. Chosen because she knows the ways their minds work, can already see the cogs turn into credits in their eyes, already read her name in the headlines, not his. Gordon blinks up at her, perfectly forgotten, and she lets her next smile reach her eyes. 

“Get in.”

---

She feels Parker’s shudder, FAB One shaking under the force of it as Gordon slips and squelches his way into the backseat. He leaves perfect dark hand prints on the cream leatherwork and drips, morosely, onto the merino wool carpets.

“Milady --” 

She cuts him off with a sharp tsk, her own hands coming away hopelessly filthy as she wipes her thumbs across too-damp cheeks where oil and something else have mixed into a horrid black paste. Gordon says nothing, only leans into her touch before backing away, skittish, at Parker’s groan.

“Ignore him,” she assures him, “It’s entirely his own fault.”

Parker makes another, ruder, sound, but neither of them pay much mind. Gordon’s breathing heavily, heavier than he ought to be after such a short sprint, and she finds herself patting at his shoulders, his sides, worried eyes scanning for whatever injury must have spurred him after her.

“Penny?” He’s holding his own hands up, surrender style. “Pen -- you’re getting -- Penelope, stop it!”

“You’re hurt?” It’s a question that isn’t, not really, because Penelope is good at knowing, and she knows that twist to those lips, the shadow in those eyes, knows them as well as she knows her own name. “Let me see.”

Gordon huffs, something that might have been a laugh, once, but now sounds half a beat from a sob. “Nah.”

She rolls her eyes, and makes nimble work of his shirt buttons. He snatches at the edges, head swivelling toward the windows, and hisses a scandalised, “Hey!”

“Oh do relax,” she mutters, slapping at his wrists until he lets her pull the sodden material away from his shoulders. “This is New York, sweetheart. This is nothing.”

“So you say!” But he lets her continue, shifting his weight and kicking his own jeans off, until he’s sat in nothing but his boxers, body streaked with sweat, hair black, surrounded by discarded rags and wearing a smile that makes her heart seize.

“See?” he flings his arms out as far as he can in the confined space. “I'm fine.”

It's an invitation, an opening she doesn't take, and the silence lingers a moment too long -- long enough for him to shiver, to reach for the duffle he'd dragged in after him and pluck something soft from its depths. Long enough to wonder.

"What 'appened?"

They both move to answer, both their jaws snapping shut as they realise, and Gordon pulls a marl hoody over his head, taking his time to work his arms into the sleeves as Parker's eyes narrow in the rear view mirror.

"A misunderstanding," Penelope says breezily, far too breezily. "That's all."

One bushy eyebrow rises out of his reflection.

"Is that so, Master Gordon?"

The hoody is too long, too tight in the shoulders. The sleeves hang over his hands and the hem sits around his mid thigh. He’d clearly left in a hurry, although she should have guessed that by how quickly he caught up to them, and he refuses to meet either of their eyes as he rummages deeper into the bag muttering invectives about stupid lanky brothers.

“Gordon?”

He pauses, his hand leaving marks on the waistband of a pair of NASA sweats. "Yeah -- no. I don't know."

"You didn't 'arf run." Parker says it conversationally, an observation. Penelope only hears the pauses in Gordon’s answer.

"Yeah. Well."

"In fact seems as if we're all running, Milady."

She balks at that, offence at the very notion ingrained into her bones. "Nonsense. I don't run."

Her broken compact has come to rest beneath the duffle, and as he tosses he bag to one side to work the too-long sweats up over his knees Gordon spots it, leaning down to pick it up as he wriggles his backside into them. “Oh Lady Penelope,” he says with something of his usual humour. “Brains is gonna be cross!” 

She snatches it, or tries to, but her hand slips and the cracked screen lights up, reveals immediately what she’d been doing -- what she’d been trying to do -- in the moments before Gordon had thrown himself bodily into her vehicle. 

Colonel Casey,

Despite all my efforts it would appear Mr Tracy has taken against my advice and plans to move TI further in the direction we have previously discussed. I am sorry that I have been unable to convince him of the folly of such choices, and as such I am forced to resign as --

"So this isn't running?" He runs a hand across his face and lets it lie there, covering his eyes. "Jesus, Pen. What's happening to us?"

Carefully, terribly carefully, she peels his fingers away until she can twist her own between them and bring their joined hands to rest in her lap. Her business suit is ruined, but it isn’t as though she hasn’t half a dozen others. There’s only one boy -- one boy with callouses on his palms and oil under his fingernails. One boy that she absolutely cannot keep but oh -- oh --

She doesn’t look at him. Can’t. Because she knows herself, knows the streak of absolute selfish want that runs right through the very core of her, and it’s all she can do to keep her voice steady. 

"Your father will no doubt be arranging further investor meetings, we can drop you at Heathrow. By the time they get back you'll --"

"Whoa, hang on -- I'm not going back!"

"Don't be ridiculous! What are you going to do instead?"

He stares at her.

"I thought -- you and me --"

He thought, but god, she wants.

And wanting makes her mean. Makes her scoff when all she really wants to do is say yes, yes of course.

“You’re going to sit in my house and watch your family save the world? Don’t be obtuse. You’ll go mad.” Then, quieter. Truer. “You’ll hate me.”

“Never.” The vehemence surprises her, though it shouldn’t, not really. She’s never seen Gordon do anything that wasn’t with his whole heart, has she? “I will never regret choosing you.”

“Over everything?”

“Anything.”

At that moment, and only for a moment, she lets herself imagine it. The two of them, and nothing, no-one else. The two of them and their own choices, their own dreams, and she knows -- she knows it will never happen. Can never happen. Gordon covers the hand holding the compact with his other, lifts it and drops a kiss to her knuckles that cracks her heart right down the centre.

"No. No, Gordon. Don't let him be right." Her voice cracks right along with it. “If he thinks I’m trying to steal you away --”

"What, like some kind of pedigree puppy? Forget it, what am I gonna do, let him get away with speaking to you like that? No chance. Never. Not happening okay, so don’t even bother."

"Your brothers --"

There's hesitation there, just as she knew there would be, but it doesn't last, doesn't work the way she'd thought it would.

"Are big enough and ugly enough to cope without me. I'm just the pool boy nowadays anyway it's not like I can do anything useful."

"That's not true."

"It's completely true, and you know it. He wants me to, what? Choose between you and brunch meetings in a penguin suit?" He grimaces. “It’s not you or the job, Penelope. It’s you and the job, or it’s him.”

“We’re on the same side, Gordon,” she says quietly. “We all only want what’s best.”

“Do we?” He shakes his head. “I dunno, Pen. I don’t know anything anymore. Dad’s --” he takes a deep breath. “He’s not the same.”

Parker scoffs at that, breaking the spell that seems to have befallen the two of them before gesturing rudely to a fellow motorist with poor lane discipline. “I’ll say. He’s spent eight years alone in outer space, young Master Gordon. If he was the same man, he’d be a blummin’ mirage.”

“I know that,” Gordon insists. “I do, I get it. But -- people will die? People are dying and we -- my dad, he’d have helped them. He’d have let us help them. I just -- I don’t even know him anymore. I don’t even know if I ever did.”

And Penelope may have lost a little faith, somewhere between Tracy Industries and the oil-slicked backseat of her car, but she hasn’t yet lost her tact.

She knows, still, just enough. Enough to recognise fear in a man’s eyes. Ambition. Dread. Lust. Courage. So she doesn’t tell him, doesn’t dare, that when she looks into his father’s eyes she sees nothing. Nothing at all. Instead she tightens her grip on his hand, on the broken compact, and says;

“Take us home, Parker.”

---

(Gordon loves his father.

He does.

His father is a dead man.)

#thunderbirds are go #Thunderbirds #sensorysunday2020 #sensorysunday #gordon tracy #penelope creighton-ward #pen & ink #clare vs writers block #savages

[tsarisfanfiction]

Nothing VII

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Scott Tracy

The seventh and final part for my answer to @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: See challenge. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Well, this has been an adventure, with a lot of screaming readers to say the least (I love you all!).  Thanks for all the response, and hopefully I’ll be back soon with the next sense to start you off all over again!

Gordon cut through the water effortlessly, striking out length after length of the pool for his morning swim.  It had been a month since that awful, awful day, and the signs were still ever-present.

John was still down on Earth.  Usually, John would be finding any excuse to go back up to his beloved space station after a matter of hours – and he had many arguments stored up for the benefit of zero gravity on broken bones.  Gordon knew that because he’d heard them all before, after previous incidents.  This time, John was suffering his least favourite force (and crutches) in silence.  Gordon could understand that – none of them really wanted to leave the island, now. Missions were always met with the slightest reluctance before he and Virgil traipsed their way to Thunderbird Two and wherever in the world needed them.  Thunderbird One hadn’t been used at all.

Thunderbird Three was still out of operation.  The damage from her ill-advised hurtle home during a cyclone had been severe, and not only was the rocket herself still being partially rebuilt, but the scaffolding surrounding the round house told the rest of the story.  They’d made a start on the repairs, but none of their hearts had been in it.  Not right now.

Not when Alan was still too quiet, blaming himself for something that hadn’t been his fault – that none of them could have done anything about.  John was spending a lot of time with Alan, connecting to him in a way Gordon couldn’t, because it was all space this and space that.  When it came to space, Gordon was the last Tracy to talk to.

He slapped his hand against the edge of the pool, bringing his lengths to an end for the moment.  He had another task to do, now.

“Special delivery!” Virgil declared as bare feet dipped into the pool beside him.  He grinned up, meeting his older brother’s eyes.

“For me?” he asked playfully, heaving himself up to rest crossed arms on the poolside.  “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

Virgil laughed and backed away, booted feet making their familiar noise as he traipsed over tiles towards the kitchen.  Gordon didn’t bother to watch him go, his attention still on the brother getting his feet wet.

When Scott had finally opened his eyes, a couple of hours after Gordon had abandoned his Thunderbird’s maintenance half-done and dragged him and the mobile equipment keeping him alive into the waiting medical bay, their relief at seeing blue eyes had quickly turned to horror when it became apparent that just because they were open, it didn’t mean he was seeing them.

Gordon saw those blank eyes in his nightmares, and he knew he wasn’t the only one.  They hadn’t known how long Scott had been without oxygen for, but they all knew the possible effects of hypoxia.  Blank, unseeing eyes terrified them, until Grandma had the presence of mind to check his reactions.

They’d never been happier to see pupils react.  Scott was still in there, somewhere.  They just needed to find him again, and find him they had.  In true Scott Tracy style, there was no keeping their biggest brother down for long, and true consciousness had returned to him in a matter of hours.

Not that that meant everything was fine.  Scott didn’t remember what had happened – more than that, he had no memory of the entire week leading up to the accident – but he’d developed a phobia of the dark. Not that Scott wanted to refer to it as such, but they’d all been in earshot when the lights went out for that first night and the heart monitor screamed.  The problem wasn’t the dark, Scott insisted once they’d all stampeded back in and turned the lights back on, it was not being able to see.  Apparently there was a difference; the rest of them didn’t see it, but they let Scott win that debate without comment and made sure there was always at least one light on in every room by the time dusk set in.

Gordon suspected he wouldn’t be going back into space any time soon, even after Thunderbird Three and her silo were repaired.

“Come on in,” he invited his brother, gesturing to the pool.  Scott was in swimming trunks and ready for his first dip since the accident – a broken rib from John’s desperate resuscitation had put pay to any strenuous exercise, and it was still a week or so before Virgil and Grandma would even consider letting him back on light duty.

He still wasn’t allowed to swim, but Gordon was a firm believer in the healing power of water, and Virgil had conceded that floating was acceptable.  John had pointed out that he’d done a lot of floating in space before being rescued, and that Scott might have an issue with that as well as the dark.  Scott, in true Scott fashion, had immediately bristled at the implication and demanded to be allowed in the water, so here they were.

Despite his earlier fire, Scott was hesitating slightly and Gordon suspected it wasn’t due to residual pain from his ribs, no matter what he was trying to pretend.  He rested a hand on his big brother’s ankle and waited, watching his chest rise and fall as Scott convinced himself that the water was safe.  In only swimming shorts, Scott’s scars were on display – they all had them, and Scott was no exception.  Privately, Gordon thought it was wrong that hypoxia didn’t leave physical scars, and nor did a broken rib.  There was a story on Scott’s skin, but it didn’t reflect the time he came closest to leaving them, unlike Gordon’s own road map.  Instead, the scars were in their minds.  All different ones, from the different aspects they’d seen.

Eventually, Scott allowed himself slid in slowly.  It was shallow at this end – Gordon had stopped here specifically for that reason.  Even he and Alan could stand up with their heads above the water here, and when Scott’s feet hit the bottom his shoulders were still dry.

How to float was ingrained in all of them; Gordon had ensured that personally during their training with him for water rescues.  With only Gordon as witness – Virgil was long gone, and the rest of the family had been subtly poked and prodded away from the pool before Scott had even arrived – Scott slowly let the water take his weight.  Very slowly, with the same hesitance he’d had getting into the water in the first place.

Gordon stayed close by, and when it became apparent that Scott wasn’t at all comfortable letting the water take his weight – as John had feared – he reached out and caught him, as though he was teaching him to float for the first time.

“I got you, Scooter,” he grinned as Scott looked at him with grateful eyes, taking a deep breath and lifting his last foot from the bottom.  Apparently no matter how unsure he was, he still trusted Gordon impeccably.  Gordon refused let him down.

“Scooter?” Scott asked after a moment, once he was settled with Gordon’s hands gently pressing against his back despite the fact that it was the water doing all the work, and the aquanaut stiffened.  It had just slipped out without thinking, a teasing reassurance like… like Dad used to do. He hadn’t called Scott Scooter in years.  “Been a while since I heard that.”

There was something off about his voice.  Gordon didn’t know what, couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was the sinking feeling that he’d just put his foot in something.  Nice one, Gordon, you idiot.  Scott was frowning, raising a hand to rub at his forehead.  Gordon had to duck to avoid an elbow to the face.

“I feel like I had a question about that,” Scott mused after a moment, letting his hand fall back into the water with a small splash and a sigh.  “But it’s gone.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gordon said, wanting to wipe the melancholy look off of Scott’s face and hurrying to change the subject even as he continued to mentally scold himself for the slip.  “How’s the water?”

It worked.

“Wet,” Scott said dryly, turning his head slightly towards him with a small grin.  It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.  “Warm.”

He hadn’t seemed to have noticed that one hand was no longer touching him, Gordon kicked back until he was floating, too, and slid his arm under Scott’s shoulders, holding him loosely.

“So are you,” he retorted, and Scott laughed.  It was a reassuring sound, one they hadn’t heard anywhere near enough of recently.  Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon saw movement – most likely a trio of brothers watching from the kitchen – but he ignored it. This was his domain, and his time with Scott.  The fourth out of five meant he’d always had to share the attention of his eldest brother and right now he didn’t want to.

A month ago, he’d thought he was going to lose his biggest brother.  He hadn’t, but it had been far, far too close for his liking, and his grip tightened just a little, pulling their sides flush together as they floated in the shallow end of the pool.  Scott was home, and Scott was recovering.

Scott was safe.

Fin

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #tsari writes fanfiction #nothing

[strongerwiththepack]

Sensory Sunday: Touch

Whoops I’m a bit late but here’s my ‘touch’ fic for @gumnut-logic's new challenge. The boys weren’t cooperating with me today but I think it turned out alright in the end!

Hyperthermia vs. Hypothermia 

“Do you two coordinate your disasters just to irate me?” Virgil asked in exasperation as he warmed up another heating pad between his hands.

Scott just shrugged but Gordon grinned at him. “Just keeping you on your t-toes bro.”

The joke was kind of lost in the sound of chattering teeth so Virgil just rolled his eyes and placed the final heating pad onto Gordon’s chest. His little brother hissed slightly at the startling change in temperature. Virgil eyed him wearily, he was still pale and his lips had a slight blue tinge to them but at least he was shivering again which meant he was warming up.

He crossed the infirmary to examine how his other patient was doing. Scott, in complete contrast, had a cooling blanket draped over him with ice packs around his neck and armpits. Virgil removed the cold compress from his brother’s forehead and held his hand over it, cringing at the heat still coming off him.

Somehow Scott had come back from his rescue with severe heatstroke and then he’d had to go and pick up Gordon because he’d managed to get hypothermia. It was almost laughable. In fact he had laughed, and now he was regretting all his life choices as he yoyoed between heating and cooling treatments.

“You’re dehydrated, you need to keep drinking Scott.” He reiterated, eyeing the still full glass of water he’d left by his brother’s bed. “Don’t make me put an IV in.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Scott grumbled, grabbing the glass, a little too aggressively, and drinking a few sips.

Scott’s skin was sunburnt and irritated and Virgil could see it starting to peel at his hairline and cheeks. He’d already put cream on them so there wasn’t much more he could do.

“Don’t blame me, you were the one who decided not to wear your UV shielded helmet.” Virgil shot back with a hint of annoyance in his tone because this could all have been avoided if his older brother wasn’t such an idiot.

Scott just glared at him and Virgil rolled his eyes. He knew his brother was regretting that decision now that he was confined to the infirmary and off duty for 48 hours. He’d argued about the amount of time but Virgil was not budging on that one. He knew the dangers of heatstroke and he wasn’t risking his brother going out before he was ready.

“Hey V-Virgil, seeing as I kept my helmet on, do I w-win this one?” Gordon called.

“Seeing as you were at the bottom of the ocean, I’m glad you made that decision.” Virgil replied with a smile shaking his head.

Scott piqued up then, apparently putting the dots together. “How did you end up with Hypothermia anyway Gordon? Your suit should have protected you from those temperatures.”

Trust Scott to jump on the big brother train first opportunity he got. Gordon just grinned sheepishly.

“Well I said I kept my helmet on, I never said anything about the rest of my suit.”

“What!? Gordon, report.”

Virgil sighed. “Scott you’re supposed to be resting. You’re both supposed to be resting.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at Gordon.

“Fine.”  He said getting comfy on the bed. “Let’s call it a bedtime story then, on you go Gordon.”

Virgil frowned but didn’t stop Gordon as he dove into the story with all his usual dramatics. He was pretty curious as well, he’d only heard a condensed version from John earlier.

***

“I’ve just got one more to get John” Gordon told his space monitor brother as he prepared to swim across from Thunderbird 4 to the downed submersible once again.

John popped up looking slightly distracted. “Okay Gordon. Listen, Scott’s got himself in a bit of trouble, think you’ll be okay to navigate solo?”

“FAB John.”

Gordon felt some concern rising for his oldest brother, but John would’ve told him if it was serious. He turned his focus back to the rescue. 3 crewmen aboard a research submersible in the Arctic Ocean that had been hit by a Bowhead whale.

Gordon was familiar with the mammal, Bowhead whales have a massive triangular skull to help them break through the ice in these waters so its unsurprising that it was able to do so much damage to the tiny sub. The entire vehicle was flooded, luckily the crew all had dry suits and breathing apparatus. The problem was getting them from their vehicle to Thunderbird 4 through the strong currents in the water. Due to the unpredictable waters he wasn’t able to dock safely to the vehicle.

So, now he was free swimming across with the researchers but he had to take them one at a time in case the currents were too strong for them to make the swim. It was a fairly standard rescue. He should be done soon. John had directed him to the divers in the first place but he knew where to go now.

Gordon swam through the outer hatch once more, battling his way across to the submersible. These definitely weren’t recreational waters, the current was strong. He really had to pump through the water hard to get through. It was a cross current so he was swimming pretty much diagonally to where he wanted to go, pushing against the current while also propelling himself forward. It was slow work but his hand finally found a rung on the research vessel.

Pulling himself through the opening he’d made previously he swam through the flooded hallways to where he left the last researcher.

“Final call for dry land.” He called out as he turned the corner. Luckily the woman was right where he’d left her and she smiled gratefully.

“What would we do without you International Rescue.” She said in a relieved tone, her Icelandic accent coming though strongly.

“All in a day’s work ma’am” Gordon replied with a smile as he attached a line between them. It was always nice meeting kind people on the job. It was pretty rare when everyone you met was going through what was likely one of the worst experiences of their life so he usually shrugged off any unsavoury characters.

They were almost at the door when the compulsory disaster every rescue seemed to contain occurred. The whole station started to flip on its side and they were thrown into the wall. Gordon felt a searing pain in his side as a piece of bent metal cut into his suit. It was a shallow cut but that wasn’t what Gordon needed to worry about. He hissed as a flood of sub-zero temperature water flooded into his suit. It felt like daggers against his bare skin.

Okay. That puts a time limit on things.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to stop his heart racing from the shock of the cold water and turned to the researcher.

“Are you alright?” he gasped out.

“I’m fine.” She seemed a little dazed before noticing the tear in his suit and widening her eyes. “Your suit?”

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged off. “Let just get you out of here.”

She looked at him with uncertainty but complied, nonetheless. Oxygen wasn’t an issue, he doubted it would leak into his helmet to that extent before they got back to Thunderbird 4. He wasn’t stupid though, he knew the risks in these temperatures but the best thing to do would be to just finish the rescue as quickly as possible.

He started swimming with the researcher swimming behind him. None of the research team would have made it through the currents alone, the connecting cable pulled taunt every time and he ended up propelling himself and his passenger through the water. It was what he expected though, the required level of swimming ability you needed to obtain an underwater vehicle license was pretty low.

The swim was definitely harder this time though, the cold seeping into his suit seemed to be burning his skin and his limbs were feeling sluggish. It didn’t help that the rip was near his chest, it would be reducing his core body temperature a lot faster. He was surprised John wasn’t already screaming at him.

His muscles were burning by the time he was able to latch on to his bird and he took a second to catch his breath before opening the outer hatch. He let the researcher in before him and gave a sigh as the water drained out of the compartment. Usually he’d be completely dry under the suit at this point but the soaked fabric clung to him and he shivered violently.

He secured the last researcher with her colleagues, leaving them with a reassuring smile, that probably wasn’t vey reassuring considering how bad his teeth were chittering, before heading to the cockpit and letting out a sigh. He was freezing.

“Thunderbird 4, your suit readings are showing a sharp decline in body temperature. What’s your status?”

John had popped up on the comm, his brow furrowed. Gordon was feeling pretty rubbish but he didn’t want to distract his brother if Scott still needed help.

“I’m okay Thunderbird 5, go help Scott.” He assured.

“Scott’s fine Gordon, he’s back on Tracy Island now. What’s your status?”

Gordon sighed in relief, realising he’d been holding on to some stress about his brothers situation subconsciously.

“My suit was compromised while in the water John.” He reported. “I may be in the beginning stages of hypothermia.” He replied sheepishly.

What he didn’t expect was an amused smirk from John and the questioning tone. “Hypothermia?”

Gordon was confused now, he was in the Arctic Ocean with a ripped dry suit, of course he was hypothermic. He must have let some of that confusion show on his face because John just shook his head and muttered. “It doesn’t matter, just know Virgil is not going to be happy.”

“Can you make it to the drop-off point?” John asked him, changing the subject.

Gordon was still confused at his brothers questioning but replied. “Yeah, I’m only 20 minutes off the port, but I may need a pick-up from there.”

“FAB Gordon, I’ll notify Virgil. Let me know if it gets any worse.”

“Thanks John.”

***

“And then Virgil came to rescue me and brought the warmth with him.” Gordon ended, snuggling down into his pile of blankets and heat pads.

“John called me exactly 30 seconds after I had got Scott settled and treated for heatstroke telling me that you had hypothermia and needed a picked up.” Virgil interjected shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“You know you love us.” Gordon grinned and Virgil was glad the colour seemed to be coming back to his cheeks. He repositioned the heat packs that had fallen out of place during his brother’s theatrical hand gestures.

Scott groaned. “Urghh, just looking at those heat pads is making want to throw up again.”

“Again? I think it’s story time for you now big brother.” Gordon piqued up.

Now it was Scott’s turn to look sheepish. “Wellll I was in Mongolia helping with earthquake evacuations and bear in mind here that this rescue took over 10 hours”

***

“Okay John, I’m moving on to Sector G now.”

“What? Scott you just finished searching Sector G.”

“Oh. Sector…” Scott had to do a quick run through of the alphabet to figure out what came next. “…H then. Sector H.”

John noticed the pause.

“There is no Sector H Scott. You’re done.”

“Uh…Great. I’ll head back to One then” Scott said looking around about him. He was glad to be done, he’d had a pretty bad headache for a couple of hours now but it had started to subside.

John frowned at him but replied anyway. “FAB Scott.”

Scott slowly made his way back to his bird. He was desperately looking forward to a nice long, cool shower when he got home. It had been a long day and he technically hadn’t needed to stay past the last aftershock but the local aid services just didn’t have the equipment they did. It was a much faster evacuation with him helping. He had been out in the sun all day though and he could feel the heat on his face.

Gordon was so going to laugh at him for getting burnt and he could already hear Virgil’s lecture on wearing sun cream.

“Scott, where are you going?” John questioned as he popped up on his watch.

Scott looked around himself. He had no idea where he was going. Huh.

“Uh, I might be a little lost Thunderbird 5.”

John frowned at him again. One of those frowns that said you’re acting weird.

“I’ll send through coordinates.”

“Thanks John.”

His brother signed off again. Scott knew Gordon was on another rescue so he didn’t bother his space-bound brother again, even though it took him way longer to calculate a path from the coordinates than it should have.

Finally setting eyes on his bird was a relief. The insulated metal encasing that promised a cool environment inside. Except when he did step inside, and the cool air hit him, all that greeted him was a strong feeling of nausea. He barely had time to grab a bin bag before he was emptying the contents of his stomach into it. He sank down onto his knees and heaved over the bag as the feeling failed to pass.

“-ott what’s wrong?” He finally registered.

Bringing his arm up he was met with a worried looking John which managed to shake him out of the nauseous daze he’d ended up in.

“John. M’fine.” He mumbled. It didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

He pushed himself off the floor but was met with worrying double vision before it tunnelled and he ended up on his knees again, slumping sideways into the wall of his bird, trying to blink the spots out of his eyes.

“You’re not fine, Scott. Stay down.” John ordered. “When did this start?”

Scott sighed, moving to sit with his back against the wall, resigned to his fate as John quizzed him. He was usually pretty good at pretending to be fine but not being able to stand up was a bit of a giveaway.

“I don’t know John. When I got to my bird, I just felt really ill.”

John’s lips pursed but his attention got pulled to something on his left.

“Hang on Scott, it’s Gordon.” He made to blink away but turned back warning. “Don’t move.”

Scott started to stand up as soon as his brother was gone. In his defence, he did take it very slow this time. He leaned heavily against the wall as he stood, breathing deeply to try and dispel the nausea. His skin was tight and irritated, he rested his cheek against the cool metal of his bird and sighed at the relief it provided. His skin was on fire. That probably gave him an indication of what was making him feel sick. Virgil was going to murder him.

He stumbled up to the cockpit and sat down heavily in the pilots chair. John popped up on the dash.

“Scott. What did I say?”

Scott just smiled innocently. “Sorry bro.”

John growled in annoyance. “It’s not funny Scott. You could have passed out and hit your head. And you are not flying home.”

“John I’m fine.” Scott tried to reassure. “It was just a dizzy spell.”

“Scott, I am remote flying One home and Virgil is going to be waiting for you at the other end to take you to the infirmary because we are pretty sure you have heatstroke.”

Yeah he was pretty sure on that as well so he just groaned and leaned his head back against the chair. He tried closing his eyes but the world spun around him every time he did so he focused on a spot on the roof and fought to keep the contents of his stomach as John flew him home.

***

“Ha! You’re way more of a screw up than me.” Gordon boasted as soon as Scott was finished. “I’m here because of an unavoidable accident whereas you’re here cause you’re just an idiot.”

Scott scoffed at the statement but Virgil just raised his eyes in amusement. At Scott’s look of betrayal he stated. “What? He’s not wrong.”

“Virgil I was busy!”

“Not too busy to take care of yourself. All you’ve accomplished is John having to monitor your sun exposure and water intake from now on.”

“John doesn’t have time for that.”

“Exactly! So, stop making it a necessity.”

Scott huffed in frustration but Virgil just glared at him. He could see Gordon out of the corner of his eye itching to break the awkward silence but he gave his brother a slight shake of his head. He was not letting Scott get away with this one. He could understand one mistake but this was not the first time this had happened. Scott needed a reminder that they were not invincible, especially to the forces of nature.

He was pretty sure that in Scott’s mind the only dangers were the stuff that could actually hit you. That’s why Virgil had to be the one that watched out for the more subtle heath concerns of their job but he was tired of Scott not listening to him.

“Okay.” Scott finally conceded. “I’m sorry, I was being stupid.”

“Good.” Virgil nodded, accepting the statement. He was pretty sure that was all he was going to get out of his stubborn eldest brother.

Scott flopped his arms over his eyes and Virgil winced, knowing Scott probably had a horrible headache at the moment.

“The ice in those packs has probably melted by now. I’ll swap them out.” Virgil reasoned heading to the door so he could replenish their supply of ice from the kitchen.

“Good idea, I feel like a furnace.” Scott replied, arms still covering his face and mumbling his words slightly.

“That’s it.” Gordon suddenly declared. “I’m coming over to cuddle.”

Scott deadpanned him. “We are not cuddling Gordon.”

Gordon was already climbing out of his own bed though, keeping one of his blankets clutched tightly around him as he shivered. “Too late. Gimme some of that heat”

Virgil just laughed as he swiftly made his exit. It honestly wasn’t the worst idea in the world. He could still hearing his brothers bickering as he walked down the hall though.

“Just so you know, I kick in my sleep.”

“Gordon get off my bed!”

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #dont know how cohesive this story is as a whole but I try #bring on the next one

[fallenfurther]

More than just a feeling

The final sense for @gumnut-logic Sensory Sunday fics. I had been doing a sense per brother and I thought this would mess that up, then realised there was another Tracy who suited the bill. Previously: See-John, Touch-Gordon, Smell-Alan, Taste-Virgil and Hear-Scott (new WIP). Enjoy!

****

Sally stood on the patio outside the kitchen, her eyes cast themselves over the pool and out to sea. The wind was gentle, and the day was pleasantly warm after last night's storm. She always knew who was on and who was away from the island. She never stopped counting five heads. Seven with Brains and Kayo part of the family. The early morning allowed her time to think. It was a time that brought back memories. Of the boys when they were young, getting them off to school in the morning, making sure they had everything they needed when Jeff wasn't around. The early morning rush to see a new grandchild in their mother's arms. Small, pink, and beautiful. Then there were the mornings she'd spent with Grant. Coffee in hand while they planned what they would be doing that day, be it visit to see Jeff during his downtime, or while he was at college. From deciding what punishment a teenage Jeff deserved after being caught sneaking out at night, to the hugs she used to get when he was small enough to want from Mum. She sighed and headed back inside to the pool supply cupboard and grabbed the large net. Heading back, she held the pole out to the stairs without even checking.

"You'll be needing this."

"Huh?" A startled Gordon gasped. "Oh, thanks Grandma."

She watched the young man run past her with the same energy he had when he was small, slowing as he came to the pool, so he could dunk the net in and start clearing the foliage that had been blown into it. He'd stopped questioning years ago how she always knew he was coming. Always complaining that he couldn't jump out and surprise her. Her little Gordon, with a cheeky grin and messy blond hair. Now it was styled. She still remembered how the boy had mocked his teenage brothers for their hair care! A smile on her face she sat in the kitchen and watched Gordon clear the pool before diving in and starting his morning swim. Years of training and a skint in WASP had embedded the habit. Lucy's water baby. She would be so proud.

There was no set time for Scott to finish his morning run. Some days he needed a longer one than others. Sally knew the man had the weight of the world on his shoulders and pounding it out on the island trails released some of that stress, even if the pressure never truly went away. One thing Sally could do is have the coffee ready. She dropped the old filter into the compost container and placed a fresh in the hold, along with fresh beans and water. Scott couldn't fathom how she always knew, but Sally always hit the start button at the right time. Placing the mug beneath, she did just that. The machine groaned as the beans were ground. The first mug was always hers, but the second was Scott's. It beeped and she took hers and replaced it with Scott’s favourite blue one. Pushing the switch again she got the creamer and sugar, adding a generous amount of each to hers. She took a sip, a smile crossing her face.

"Good morning, Scott."

The coffee machine beeped as a hand fell on her shoulder. The warmth travelling through her body, grounding her.

"Thank you, Grandma."

Her eldest grandson took the drink and lent against the counter to take a sip. Sally regarded the tall man, so like his father in so many ways. The resemblance was there, as were the subtle hints of his mother, which the boys couldn't see. Sally still swore he grew overnight, not really remembering that in-between stage when he was almost as tall as she was. Scott had been shoulder height, then the next day he had surpassed her, and thanks to the military he knew exactly how to make every inch of his presence known. Lucy's fighter pilot. That little boy who flew toy planes around the house, landing them on every surface and even a sleeping baby Virgil once, before being scolded. He had never lost that thrill for the sky, and with his father's same need for speed, he had been destined for the Air Force. How smart Scott had looked in that uniform, pride beaming from his face! Sally had shed a tear that day, in Lucy's place, as they had waved the young man off. He'd always come home though, arms ready to embrace a brother, father, Grandma. Family always came first for that man.

Scott turned to her and gave her one of his signature smiles, dimples deep and blue eyes sparkling in the morning sun. His mother had always said he'd be a heartbreaker. Sally knew Virgil and John kept a count of those things. It saddened Sally that Scott had yet to find someone to stand beside him, like Jeff had. Someone who could lightened the man's burden while bring a joy reserved for those in love. She hoped all her boys would find it one day. With a nod Scott left the kitchen, the shower his next stop, Sally knew. He'd be dressed and at his father's desk before the hour was up.

This was her way to start the day, her way to keep her boys close. She started on the chores next, the only change in the routine was the roar of Thunderbird One and Two leaving the island, causing vibrations to dance across the surface of the water in her bucket. She dipped the mop back in and continued.

"Good afternoon, Kayo."

"Afternoon Sally."

The woman's soft footsteps were the bane of the boys’ lives. Many a time they had jumped a foot in the air when Kayo joined in a conversation unexpectedly. Sally was no better herself, but then she always knew when her family was close. Kayo had become the sister the boys never had; the daughter Lucy always secretly wanted. Lucy would have loved Kayo as her own, accepted her instantly and smothered her like any mother would. Sally knew Lucy would be pleased with Kayo's presence in the boys’ lives. They needed her as much as Kayo needed them. Sally knew the young woman better than most, having often spending time together on the island, also left behind by the boys. It happened less so now she had her own Thunderbird. Sally had helped her through her teenage years, been the mother figure Kayo had been desperate for. Not that Kayo would admit it, she was a tough cookie, but a good cookie none the less.

Later that day, after the roar of engines were heard again, Sally retrieved a Hershey's bar from the cupboard and placed it beside the blender with some vanilla ice cream, milk, and tall glasses. She turned as the arms of her youngest grandson wrapped around her waist and she pulled him close. He was still so young, on the cusp of being an adult. The dazzling blue eyes that now peered up into hers, a gift from her side of the family, had seen more than most people see in twice the time. Sometimes it was just too much. Those eyes were tired, but she knew sleep wouldn't come, not straight away. The freckles danced as a smile lit up his face, even if it was too soon to reach his eyes. It'd been a tough rescue.

"Come on Sprout. You can make these things better than me."

She turned, the embrace changing to an arm over the boy’s shoulder. He still wasn't too tall yet. Only time will tell if he'd catch up with his older brothers. Alan was soon mixing up the milkshakes, the grinding sound filling the kitchen. Lucy had so many dreams for her little boy. She never got to see his passions bloom, for the same excitable energy that Gordon possessed to exist in him but be directed towards space, or to see him pilot a spaceship at such a young age. He may look more like his mother, but he had his father's spirit. Instead Sally had taken on the role of mother for the boy, who remembered it no other way. The precious young one protected fiercely by four older brothers. Lucy's last gift.

With the milkshakes poured and a straw stuck in each, they headed to the living room together. The projector was turned on to the last channel someone had watched, as they say side by side, Alan resting against her. The benefit of being a Grandma was it was never too uncool for a hug, and Alan was never one to turn one away when offered. The cool shakes filling a hole and soothing wounds that only time could heal. When a message pinged from Alan's wrist, a friend asking him to join a game, Sally released the boy and cleared away the glasses. Again, she found herself at the coffee machine, making two cups once more, but this time she carried them to Virgil's studio. The room dedicated to art, a room Lucy would have loved, along with the grand piano in the living room. Virgil was staring at the half complete painting with such intensity, his eyebrows crossed, that her entrance had been unnoticed. The frustration in the man's face and tension in his muscles needed to be released, so Sally held the mug beneath his nose. He stepped back but a smile came to his face when his paint-coated fingers brushed hers as he took the beverage from her. He let out a sigh after the first sip.

"How do you always know what I need?"

The warmth in his gaze melted her heart. Placing a hand on his bicep, she led Virgil to the old couch in the corner. Nothing fancy, just the old family couch that he'd insisted came with them from Kansas. Jeff had given in. They sank into the seats and settled into a companionable silence; Virgil's eyes still fixed on his current painting. How many times had they sat here for a heart to heart? It was one of the few places where Virgil would open up to her. The man worried, much like his older brother, born with a heart that cared too much. Things effected Virgil deeply, even if it didn't show on the outside. Another sigh.

"We had to tear a mother away from her dead child."

Sally's hand fell on his knee. There was nothing she needed to say. Virgil needed to work through it. No wonder Alan had been happy to sit with her so long. They all need grounding as times like these.

"She fought me. Screamed like a banshee as I struggled to carry her away. We couldn't retrieve the body before the building collapsed."

"You did all you could do."

"I can't get it out if my head. It just keeps replaying and replaying."

Placing her mug on the floor, Sally pulled the large man into her for a hug. Her hand rubbing slow circles on his back, just as she had done years ago, on that very couch, after Jeff had disappeared, and before that to soothe the nightmares after Lucy's passing. So much pain for one so young. Small sad memories interspersed the happy ones that she had of this couch. A toddler Gordon spilling his juice on the cushion and not telling anyone, only for Virgil to sit in it. The family photo that had been taken the day each boy had been brought back from the hospital and when viewed together show a happy growing family. Each boy had lain on the couch with a fever, sometime two topping and tailing. Each boy had been soothed in her arms, and each one had sat on it laughing. Now it lived with in Virgil’s sanctuary, there to bring comfort and memories to the man in her embrace. His strong hands capable of lifting great weight, saving lives with a firm grasp, yet still able to touch tenderly when cleaning a wound, to softly press the keys of the piano and apply paint in swift precise strokes to a canvas to produce a picture beyond words. Lucy had been the first to notice Virgil’s artistic potential, and she nurtured it. Placing opportunities in his path the Virgil jumped on eagerly. Lucy’s artist. Her painter and musician. Her gentle soul. She would be proud that he’d followed his dreams without giving up on his passion for the arts.

Virgil slowly eased away from her, but the tension was gone from his shoulders even if the sadness was still in his soul. He pushed himself out the seat and applied small dots of fresh paint to his palette. Sally sat back and watched the painting take shape, knowing her presence was still needed. Eventually needs must and they headed down to the kitchen where Virgil whipped up a quick dinner for them to share. Sally didn’t follow him back to his studio; he needed some time alone. Instead she headed to the reading chairs in the lounge. Her hand hovered over the novel she had started the previous day, but instead ran her fingers along the spines until she found the right one and pulled it out. The astronomy book was not her usual choice, but it was one Grant had given to John and she knew it contained an old sky map. Grant had loved the stars, even if he never had the inclination to visit them like Jeff had. How many times had she sat out on the porch as he pointed out the constellations to her? Closing the book, she careful spread out the paper.

“Oh, are you going to be using that long, Grandma?”

Sally turned to her ginger grandson with a smile on her face. His telescope was hanging over his shoulder and a blanket was in his hand.

“Don’t you have some new-spangled tech to tell you where the stars are? I thought you’d know the sky out there by heart by now.”

A small smile crossed John’s face as he ran his hand through his hair.

“I do… but I thought I’d take the chart with me, just in case.”

“Do you mind if this chart comes with a Grandma attached?”

John laughed, “That’s fine with me.”

Sally carefully folded the chart and placed to book on the side, before following John out to his favourite spot. The moon was a slither tonight, another reason why John was down from Thunderbird Five. There was no doubt in Sally’s mind that he was here to check on his brothers, but John also needed to process the days event. Staring at the stars was his way. John lay down the blanket and set up the telescope, before reaching out his hand for the map. It reminded her of the time the boys had played pirates. John had been forced to dress up, but she had made three maps to three pots of treasure. Scott had paired with Alan, Virgil with Gordon and John had his own. His had been the hardest, but he had risen to the challenge and still beat his brothers to his stash of gold chocolate coins. She had stolen facts from some of his books to make the riddles. John’s chocolates had been hidden behind his telescope. Grant had been so excited when John had shown such enthusiasm for the stars. It had been his idea to get John his first telescope. The memory of Grant letting John view Mars through his telescope when they were sleeping over was a precious one. John had fallen asleep in Grant’s lap after spending over an hour gazing at the sky. It had been Jeff who had sat with the boy on those clear nights, but it was Lucy who had brought them hot chocolate to keep them warm. It was Lucy who read the astronomy books to John at bedtime, who brought the fluorescent stars for the ceiling and brought silver stars to coat John’s sixth birthday cake. She had loved her quiet little boy who kept out of trouble and was happy to just sit and read. He had always been her bright little bookworm. Destined to live amongst the stars be loved. Lucy’s astronomer. It would make her so happy to see him now, all grown up and happy, still using the old map to orient his telescope. Still able to spend hours on end gazing up at the heavens.

Sally lay back and stared up at the night sky. Her heart ached for her son, who was amongst those stars. It had been so long, it felt so impossible, but her heart seemed set on it. Jeff was alive. Every fibre of her body told her that even as she fought to keep the hope contained. They say a mother knows; a mother can tell. Her grandsons were preparing, their hope contained just as hers was. Sally had no idea how long she would have to wait to know for certain if she would see her son again, but her heart told her she would.

#sensorysunday #thunderbirds are go #grandma tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #John Tracy #kayo kyrano #sally tracy #sixth sense #more than a feeling #always were needed #grandma vibes #sensorysunday2020

[neuroticphysiologist]

Familiar Voices

For Sensory Sunday - Hear by @gumnut-logic

This is somehow related to my Taste fic posted a few days ago. But I'd rather go for a younger Alan on this one.

And this is probably my hardest one yet, and a rough one too.

Okay, I would like to say I apologize for writing this. The idea has been in my thoughts for a long time.

***

Alan heard random voices.

It's the same thing for a few days now. The same dark tunnel he entered. He looked around feeling lost. He tried to find a way out but the voices kept bothering him.

The tunnel went darker than before. It had different abstract figures surrounding the interior of the tunnel. Dark and creepy abstract figures. It symbolized his feelings, the hectic days he had been, all the stress, the failures, it scared him, and now he's stuck. The tunnel was endless.

What's this about? Why am I here for?

Alan listened to some of the voices. Suddenly he recognized them. They were from the people he saved recently. He heard his brothers too. It was the conversation they had earlier this afternoon... actually it was the fight they had. They were talking about him taking the risk to save the man trapped in space and there's no way to get out.

The voices suddenly changed their tones. It turned into disappointment, grief, anger, it made him upset. It made him regret about what he had done and what he didn't do to save those people. He believed that he did his best to save them, but he was still worried about the failed missions. The families of the victims he didn't save were mad at him. They didn't understand. They didn't trust him anymore. One said that he should be the one who didn't make it.

And there were screams too. Screams of people in distress. Screams of people falling into their doom. Scott blasting through the comms to check if he's okay after one hell of a rescue he just had. It took almost a minute not to respond to his brother. That rescue almost put his life in danger. The abstract figures got creepier, signifying that moment.

The voices grew louder. The screams caused a big yellathon and it made him even more scared. He fell on the ground. He got up and ran as fast as he could to get away. The screams caused a great effect in the tunnel and Alan fell over again. He covered his ears and begged for the voices to stop. He tried to scream for help but nothing came out.

Stop... enough of this, please... I can't take it anymore...

He curled up like a ball, with his head down, still covering his ears, almost tearing up, begging for the chaos to stop.

Someone... please... help me...

The voices minimized their volumes. Alan looked around and sighed in relief. He stood up and slowly walked to find a way out of the never ending tunnel. Then suddenly the voices started to grow louder again. He covered his ears and looked back.

No, no, no, no, please, no!

Scarier features appeared on the tunnel. He ran as fast as he can until he fell down a hole. It was a long way down, and then he was about to crash...

He suddenly woke up and fell from the couch.

***

Scott looked around the lounge while working on the reports. He noticed Alan's laptop on the table, charged and on sleep mode, his tablet on the floor (guess he dropped it when he fell asleep), and his papers piled up on the left. That must've been his workplace for now.

Scott suddenly heard a thud. He got up from his father's desk.

"Alan?"

He rushed to see if his little brother is all right.

He heard a soft whimper.

"Alan?"

His brother was sobbing on the floor, faced down with his hand covering his tearful eyes. Scott sat down beside him, his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Alan, are you okay?"

"I ca-... I c-... I..." his breathing hitched. "I can't... I can't do this anymore..."

Thinking about the rescue, the failures he faced, and the stress he had must have hurt him, it caused him a horrible nightmare.

"I can't handle this anymore, Scott. I'm scared..."

Scott hugged him tight. Alan buried his face on his brother's shirt, soaking it with his tears. Scott rested his chin on top of his head, closing his eyes and rubbing his brother's back.

"It's okay, Allie. It's okay. I'm here."

#so sorry for giving allie a nightmare guys #those tough times pressured him a lot #man my sense fics turned from fluff to hurt #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #scott tracy #neurotic phys tag #sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020

[thunderbird-one-ai]

Sensory Sunday Taste WIP

So I finally caved and thought I’d give this a go! still a WIP but was kind of worried I got the wrong idea for it so here is a snippet of what is yet to come. Hopefully this is roughly the right idea? @gumnut-logic

I decided to finally make the character I’ve been wanting to develop for a long time...so lets see how this goes ^^’

Scott hadn’t been betrayed in a long time. In fact, dare he say the last time he felt completely betrayed was when their father disappeared from his life. That bitter taste only fading the day he saw his dad again, not that he’d ever admit to anybody how he felt initially. No one knew how he felt, not even Virgil and Scott had got good over the years in making sure if he screamed in anger within Thunderbird One, no one would hear him, not even the brother in space. Now, that bitter taste was back, more prominent than ever as he was betrayed by the one thing, the one ‘thing’, he thought would never turn against him. His own Thunderbird.

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy

[c-and-o]

“I see your true colors...”

Inspired by @gumnut-logic prompt “Sensory Sunday - See”. 

After I read the prompt, this idea wouldn’t let me alone. And, since apparently I tend to discover fandoms after everyone else did, here is a doodle of Leonardo from TMNT 2012.

Thank you for the inspiration, @gumnut-logic! :) 

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #myart #tmnt12 #leo

[scattergraph]

Mom Pockets

A little story for @gumnut-logic Sensory Sunday theme ‘Touch’.  Also the first thing I’ve written since Christmas and my first ever attempt at posting something on Tumblr that wasn’t a re-blog so please forgive me for any mistakes!  

Anyways, on with the story.  As always, I don’t own or make any kind of claim to Thunderbirds, I just enjoy writing the fanfics.  Hope you like it.

There are a lot of things Jeff Tracy remembers about his late wife.  Some are the big memories, like the way she looked on their wedding day; the way her face would light-up whenever one of their children laughed, or even the way she would playfully scold him for waking her up with his 5am tone-deaf singing in the shower.  Despite all this, he often found it was the little details about Lucille that formed his fondest memories, with one of the strangest of those being what she liked to call her ‘Mom pockets’.

Jeff could remember the first time he had heard his wife use this concept. It had been a long, long day at some neighbour’s BBQ garden party and the younger two of their children had run them both ragged causing absolute mayhem.  Though both parents had returned home tired and weary and in desperate need of a good night’s sleep, Jeff was never one to miss an opportunity for some alone time with his wife (a much-needed rarity in a house with five kids) and had pulled his soulmate in close to him for a passionate goodnight kiss. It was as he slipped his hands cheekily down past her waist and into the back pockets of her jeans, only to retract them again with a sudden yelp as he felt his fingers meet with the sticky remains of one of Gordon’s half-eaten Celery Crunch bars, that had had them both cracking-up and laughing themselves to sleep that night instead.  To this day whenever that memory surfaced, Jeff swore he could still feel the nasty, sugary, crumbly mess clinging disgustingly to his fingertips, followed by the lovingly-soft caress of a wet-wipe (lifted swiftly from one of Lucy’s other many pockets) as his wife tenderly cleaned him up.  “That’s Mom pockets for you,” was all she had to say.

After that incident, Jeff had come to take more notice of exactly how much his wife really had to deal with on a day-to-day basis and wow, was that woman always prepared?!  No matter what situation their children managed to get themselves into or what requests they had, Lucy was fully equipped and pockets pre-loaded with anything they might need:  Tissues, pens, paper, band-aids, drinks and snacks… the list was endless and she had it all.  Even so, it still didn’t seem to dissuade her from doing that age-old mom-thing of licking her thumbs and scraping them hastily across her children’s faces to remove whatever stain she had found there that day, but then Jeff suspected she may have kept up that habit on purpose purely for her own entertainment. There was nothing funnier than watching an embarrassed pre-teen Scott or Virgil attempting to squirm out of their mothers grasp with cries of “eww!” and “no, Mom get off me! Yuck!!,” to brighten the couple’s day.

As the boys grew, so did the contents of the Mom-pockets and with them Lucille’s ingenuity.  At some point she began to cater for Jeff’s every whim as well and whenever he needed a business card or important phone number or even just a bottle opener for his beer on a hot Summer’s day, there was a pocket for that too.  The day they had spent at the park and little Alan had come running up asking for honey to bait the traps he had set-up to lure home some ‘real-life bears’ for his upcoming teddy-bear picnic and Lucille had casually smiled and pulled said honey-bottle out of the side pocket of her waiting handbag – well, that one still had Jeff baffled to this day.  How his wife had had the foresight to pack such a bizarre item was beyond him, though he suspected the knowingly-smug raised eyebrow she had given their snickering second youngest and middle-child at the time may have had something to do with it.

It wasn’t until Lucille was no longer with them that Jeff had realised just how much of a difference those little things had truly made to their lives. At first he had floundered, entirely unprepared as his boys had had to fend for themselves.  Countless were the times that one of the younger ones wound-up going without snacks or spent an entire day with dirt smudged across their faces because Jeff didn’t have the required food-to-go or wipes to clean them ready and waiting.  Similarly, more than once one of the elders had gotten sunburned or come back late because he had forgotten to pack the sunblock or his phone and so had missed their calls for a lift home from some activity or another.  Eventually (and with more than a little help from his children and his own mother, he wasn’t ashamed to admit) he had grasped it and by the time they moved away to the island, Jeff’s pockets were no-less crammed and prepared than Lucy’s would have been, though maybe a little less well-organised.  It may even have been that Lucille-taught sense of preparedness that had saved his life on more than one occasion later on when he found himself alone on that rock all the way out there in deep space for far too many years.  The memories he had carried with him of his late-wife and the boys during that time had certainly been what had kept him going on a daily basis. Even in his darkest hours, one thought of Lucy’s gentle kiss, his children’s loving cuddles and smiles or even that disgusting old Celery Crunch remains he had dipped his unsuspecting fingers into all those years ago had him willing himself on to just keep going another day more.

So now here they all were.  Nine months had passed since Jeff Tracy had been rescued and re-united with his family and home.  Sadly, so very sadly, Lucille would never be able to join them to see just what amazing men her precious boys had grown into.  But even now as they played and laughed on the beach by their home, Jeff couldn’t help but smile fondly as he watched John hunting for more sunblock, Gordon pulling out another half-eaten Celery Crunch bar from his own presumably sticky pockets, and Alan running around with ketchup smeared every-which-way across his face.  It wasn’t the sight of all this that was making him smile, or the way he proceeded to watch Scott pulling item after item out of both his and Virgil’s packed-out and Lucille-ready pockets to find the sunblock and tissues he knew for certain that one of them would have packed.  It wasn’t even the way Alan squirmed as Virgil attempted to lick his fingers and remove the ketchup off of his youngest’s face when Scott didn’t produce the required tissue fast enough.  No, it was the fact that he could once again reach into his own ‘mom-pockets’ and provide sunblock and tissues and whatever else the boys could possibly ever want or need and could at the same time both see and feel in every single one of them, even after all these years, that one thing their family would never, ever lose; Lucille’s loving presence.  

A mother’s touch.

#thunderbirds are go thunderbirds sensorysunday sensorysunday2020 thunderbirds fanfiction

[theabundantyogini]

#wellnessWednesday so cool love this page Posted @withregram • @with_this_body #Repost @grounding_techniques with @get_repost ・・・ Week 71 of #GroundingSundays (Swipe ⬅️ for 2 videos) Dedicating time to creating your own sensory basket of items that you can use to help ground yourself can be a fun, grounding endeavor, in of itself. And then you have that basket of sensory items available for times when you need to access them! This is a sampling of some of the items we have in our main Greensboro Three Birds Counseling office. Some of the items I bought on Amazon (search sensory or fidget items), some I found at the dollar store, some came from treatment centers, some were borrowed from my children’s’ toys, and some are random items you might find around the house (tin foil, pieces of fabric, bottle caps). We try to have items that can engage all of the senses in different ways. Not pictured are our diffusers, candles, and pieces of chocolate to engage the smell and taste senses, and our couches, pillows, and blankets that are intentionally of a variety of soft or textured fabric. Many of our clients will grab an item or two while they are processing trauma or tackling a new and difficult trigger food. We’ve also had many clients create their own sensory/grounding baskets at home, slowly adding items that help them experience more calm, integration, and grounding. Do you have a basket of items or singular item you use a lot? With clients or with yourself? Anything in this video that piques your interest? Let us know below ⬇️. #GroundingTechniques #Grounding #SensoryIntegration #Notice #BeStill #Mindfulness #MindfulMeditation #SensorySundays #Trauma #TreatingTrauma #Anxiety #PresentMoment #HereAndNow #Embody #BodyHealing #SensoryInput #TheBodyKeepsTheScore #TheBodyRemembers #TheBodyHeals #BodyHealing #BodyTalk #ListenToYourBody #SensoryItems #SensoryBasket #FidgetToys https://www.instagram.com/p/B8euRb4nVxT/?igshid=xk3xxrztno68

#wellnesswednesday #repost #groundingsundays #groundingtechniques #grounding #sensoryintegration #notice #bestill #mindfulness #mindfulmeditation #sensorysundays #trauma #treatingtrauma #anxiety #presentmoment #hereandnow #embody #bodyhealing #sensoryinput #thebodykeepsthescore #thebodyremembers #thebodyheals #bodytalk #listentoyourbody #sensoryitems #sensorybasket #fidgettoys

[gumnut-logic]

The One Sense

Just a little one, this time answering one of my own challenges for Sensory Sunday. This is for week one ‘See’. Thank goodness for the lack of due dates :D

Also, I’m feeling ugh, so quality is up for debate. I’m way behind on everything and not keeping up on my reading. There is just so many wonderful fics out there at the moment ::hugs you all:: I note them and put them aside to read later so I can comment properly when I read them. You guys are just amazing.

Also, there is obviously something wrong with me at the moment, cos this fic is all Johnny ::hugs him:: I need to go find me some Virg.

-o-o-o-

The sharp cast of light on cold rock.

Harsh gold and white against all consuming black.

Solar breath reaching out offering warmth to all that can absorb it. It wraps around his fingers shaping colour where previously there was none.

It whispers silent violence.

Only blue silicone leather stands between him and death. An odd echo of the blue of the water his brother so adores. The same blue he stares down at every day.

Most stare up into the sky and daydream. John stares down into the depths of the ocean and all its wonderous reflection.

But not today.

Today.

“We have a situation.”

His slow spin is like a dance echoing the spin of the moon below.

His moon.

Their moon.

Earth’s moon.

But Earth is hidden from view. It’s song out sung by his proximity to cold lifeless rock and the sun rising over its horizon.

“Thunderbird Five to Tracy Island.”

He can hear himself inside his suit. That odd enclosed reflection of his own voice in the tiny capsule of air keeping him alive in the vast nothingness.

He can smell the plastic protecting him, the cheeseburger on his breath from lunch…yet another present from Virgil on the morning’s supply run.

His own sweat.

Sweat generated by fear.

He has convinced himself he can’t smell burning and, even if he can, even if a small part of his mind refuses to listen to logic, he isn’t sure whether the burning is real or imagined.

But he can taste. There is no doubt of the taste of iron on his tongue. He’s not sure of the source – it could be a simple bit lip or something more serious. Either way, he can’t do anything about it, so it just exists, fluctuating between strong and weak, moist and dry, as his aching throat struggles to swallow it away.

Feeling is optional. His sense of touch is sending him mixed signals.

“Tracy Island do you read?”

One hand is hot, the other cold. His chest is tight under his exo-suit strapping. His left leg feels perfectly normal and it is comforting, reassuring.

His right leg feels nothing at all.

Nothing beyond the hastily tightened harness, a gold space-proofed silicone leather tourniquet keeping him alive.

He does not want to look down.

Because sight is the only sense that can interpret space directly.

Space can’t be smelt, felt, tasted or heard.

It can only be seen.

Harsh gold and white against all consuming black. The life-giving sun gave him sight and that same sunlight outlined the ruin of his exo-suit and the tear in his uniform.

He spun slowly.

“International Rescue…”

“I need help.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020

[tsarinatorment]

Tsari’s Military Bros Masterpost

As @gumnut-logic has declared today Military Bros day (to my absolute delight!), and I’m a major creator for Military Bros stuff, I figured I might as well make a nice masterpost of all my Scott&Gordon content.  There’s a lot, and maybe someone might find something new in here that they haven’t seen before?

Alphabetical order is normally my go-to, but as I’m just running through my blog and picking things out, this time they’re in chronological order, starting with the oldest!

Wax and Feathers - Sometimes limits need to be broken. But a limit is there for a reason, and breaking them has consequences.

I Just Can’t Wait To Be Free - When Scott gets stuck, Gordon’s the only one around - too bad he can’t stop laughing.

Toffee - Gordon is a lover of many things.  Toffee is not one of them. (note: still ongoing, starts Gordon&John)

Give Up The Fight - Just a short angsty dead-end piece.  Warning for implied MCD

SensorySunday - all my SensorySunday fics have some Scott&Gordon in, although some more than others. I’m not listing them individually because all the bros get their time with Scott in these.

Human -  Scott needs to stop taking his helmet off first chance he gets - one day, his luck will run out.  Warning for PTSD

Long Way From Home -  His brothers are missing.  In their place is a family of strangers, the only explanation that makes any sense is beyond comprehension, and the only solution is impossible.  Scott Tracy’s never been so far from home. (note: still ongoing, has several family interactions but Scott&TOS!Gordon is the most extensive so far)

WIP #47 - Unfinished fic with lots of Gordon, and Scott!whump

WIP #59/Sticks and Stones - Unfinished fic with Scott whump and angst, and Gordon decided to get involved.

Words Not Said (But Still Heard) -  Gordon didn’t remember much about his time in the hospital, but he remembered the song.

Snap -  There was a whole mountain of paperwork, but a certain annoying younger brother refused to leave him in peace long enough for him to get it done.

Night Out / Morning After -  Gordon learnt two things that night: Scott was an affectionate drunk, and sometimes people throw bar stools for no good reason.

Night Out [Art]

Is-Is That My Blood? - From a prompt of the same name. (note: Gordon doesn’t appear in person in this section, but he will in future)

In Your Shadow - “Tomorrow, they’re not gonna say ‘that’s Gordon Tracy, the Olympic Champion!’  Tomorrow, they’re gonna say ‘that’s Scott Tracy’s little brother!’, and I’m gonna say ‘damn straight I am.’” (Tippy did a podfic!)

Are You Going To Let Go? [ART&FIC] - Gordon’s found a de-aged Scott and he’s not letting go.

To Protect - “Get out of the way,” before I murder you.

Teen Tracys - Scott’s teenage brothers are a nightmare (note: not just Scott&Gordon)

Refrigerator - "You've gone to the bathroom fifty times today" and "Is it just me or is it cold as hell in here?".

End of Blue - Thunderbird One’s dead in the water.  Scott Tracy isn’t responding.  Rescues never feel the same when it’s one of their own they have to save. (note: not finished yet)

Some Things Never Change - de-aged!Scott “Goddamn it, kid, don’t you ever listen? Stay still, let me stop the bleeding, okay?”

Sleep - Some sleepy!Scott Military Bros fluff

Small Things - When an injury leaves Scott unable to do even the most simple things for himself and accordingly frustrated, it takes a brother who understands what it’s like to halt the slippery slope.

Exposed to the Elements - “Fever and Abandoned Building"

A Step Too Far - “Unconscious and Stairs”

Last Straw - “You were almost dead from pushing it too far!”

Bloodbath - Everything was red. (note: ventfic, heed the tags.  Nutty wrote a part 2)

Help Me (Keep My Head Above Water) - The water is no place for a man who thrives in the skies.  Luckily, he has a  brother who’s the opposite. Marks&Wings AU

Too Many Feathers [ART] - Accompanies Help Me.  Gordon is an orca (and Virgil’s there, too)

Escape - An island vacation turns into a nightmare, and it’s going to take Gordon everything he’s got, and then some, to get himself and his injured brother to safety. (note: still unfinished)

Sword and Shield - The relationship between his brothers was complex.

Stitches and Movies - “Bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go”

Human Shield - “Shielding the other with their body”

Crafty Little Brothers - “Giving them a piggy-back ride” (note: also contains a lot of Alan)

Water Rescue - “Can we stop for a moment?  I think I need a break”

Bad Days - “Seventy two times in a minute” and “Xanax and tears”.  Warning for PTSD

[Unnamed] - Pen&Ink drama involving Scott (note: very incomplete wip)

Master of Strategy - “You deserve everything you got”

Thank You - “Things you said under the stars and in the grass/that made me feel like shit/I wish you hadn’t”

Childish Mannerisms - “Ow...ow...ow... NO I’M NOT BEING A BABY. I’ve been impaled!”

Dawn Fever - Normally, two brothers are up at dawn.  Today, there’s only one.

Homework Mishap - "Don't worry, I'm just checking your pulse." and “That’s not how you use a stethoscope (note: contains a lot of John)

Restless - “Can I sleep with you in here tonight?”

(It’s the) Middle of the Night -  When he woke, it was dark.  But he wasn’t alone.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #military bros #scott tracy #gordon tracy #i love these two so much

[eirabach]

Hear

For @gumnut-logic‘s Sensory Sunday challenge! This feels like a tiny piece of a bigger thing, so we will see I guess... Brought to you entirely by Fall Out Boy’s Bob Dylan being played very very loudly. I love days off.

---

When they say you and what army,

I guess they’re talking about you and me,

(No one ever thinks of you

 as much as I do, not even you)

---

The rumour mill is a vicious thing. It takes the gentle, the unprepared, and it grinds them into pieces that blow as little more than dust in the wind -- victims of a world that takes pleasure in nothing more than the destruction of the perceived unworthy.

The British Press are consummate professionals at this sort of thing. There’s never been a young duchess or precocious pop star that they couldn’t use for their own ends then cast aside as it suits. There’s always been some scandal, some lover, some dress, some ill-advised publicity piece, some way to destroy what they themselves had built.

Penelope Creighton-Ward is an anomaly.

On paper it should -- she should -- be easy. Highly educated, which is often enough to ensure a young woman a reputation as a fool, beautiful, which should ensure a steady supply of young men of thoroughly reproachable background, and constantly found in the company of a much older man of known ill-repute. The press pack salivate after her, watch her every move, wait for the inevitable slip or sneer or sexual misstep, and yet --

Penelope Creighton-Ward is the anomaly.

Which is fortunate really.

You see, the press are convinced it’s Scott. They plaster poorly edited photographs of them across tablets the world over, and they do laugh about it, the two of them. The scale is all off and the inheritance tax would be a nightmare, but they’ve never denied it.

It rather suits, you see. Because while the press think it’s Scott, so do they.

They stand either side of the remains of her fireplace like a pair of Great Aunt Sylvia’s china dogs, only they’re perhaps half as intelligent, and that at a generous estimate. The Chaos Crew are dressed in purple and pink and destruction and it’s almost ruder than if they’d clashed with her decor. Her own preferences warped against the soot-stains on the walls. Pretty and dangerous and stupid.

So stupid that they appear to think that there’s any way they’d have Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward lashed to a dining chair unless it were her very specific preference.

(There are advantages to one’s partner having a broad education. 

Sailors are terribly good at knots.)

They thought it ought to be Scott, too. Scott the eldest, the tallest, the leader, with the face of an empire and the soul of a hero. It’s Scott they’ve contacted, Scott they’ve taunted. Which, quite honestly, is playing into her hands rather nicely.

You see, Scott’s a wonderful man. Scott’s a good man. Law-abiding, well-mannered. Just delightful, really. Scott would bring the GDF, have them arrested, continue with his day. Perhaps have a nice cup of Assam.

Scott isn’t coming.

She taps her thumb against the chair, repeating the message a couple of times just to be sure that Parker will have caught it, and smiles beatifically.

Havoc sneers, an ugly, smug sort of thing, and Penelope lets herself sigh, her smile dropping away defeated. As though a Creighton-Ward has ever been defeated. As though a Creighton-Ward has ever been such a poor host.

She hasn’t even offered them a cup of tea. Her governess would be mortified.

“Won’t you sit down?” she says, nodding at the chaise and taking careful note of the look Fuse throws at his sister. Suspicion. Her favourite.

Perhaps, he’s realised. After all, they are a little alike. They’re a little alike, and the ground begins to shake, the parlour wall crumbling as the earth beneath opens and --

Yellow, bright and fierce and furious, and she sees the moment Fuse realises. The millisecond he understands where they’ve gone wrong. Because the Mole is churning up her antique Turkish carpet, and --  

And Penelope laughs.

After all she, too, prefers a little chaos.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #penelope creighton-ward #sensorysunday2020 #sensorysunday #clare vs writers block #penandink

[tsarisfanfiction]

Hollow VII

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Alan Tracy, Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Jeff Tracy

Seventh and final part of my contribution @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: Sixth Sense. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Well, this marks the end of my SensorySunday campaign.  Turns out I managed 69181 words over the course of this challenge!  Somewhat sad this challenge is over, but that just means it’s time to move onto something new... or go back to all the wips I neglected in favour of this.  Whoops.

Alan didn’t notice when his bedroom door opened, barely wide enough for someone to slip through before closing again with the smallest of clicks.  His head was buried in a game – educational, because Dad only let him play educational games in his room – and the fact that he was no longer alone with the ancient Professor Layton didn’t occur to him until his bed dipped and someone groaned quietly.

He jumped, almost dropping the ancient console – something from Dad’s own childhood, passed down through brothers until it found the hands of the best gamer in the family – as he twisted to look at the uninvited intruder.

“Scott?”

“Shh!” his eldest brother hissed, before groaning again and gingerly laying down, spread-eagling himself across Alan’s fire engine red comforter.

Alan squinted at him, setting the old console down and turning around completely to face the brother stealing his bed.

“Should you be up?” he asked, and Scott gave a sheepish grin.  “Scott, you’re hurt!”  His brother winced and gently rested a hand over the pyjamas he wore, right where Alan knew he had several stitches, far too much medical glue, and multiple layers of gauze.

“I’m okay, Allie,” he said, patting the bed next to him with his other hand.  Alan took the silent invitation to lay next to him – it was his bed, why was Scott acting like he was in charge – and eyed him dubiously.

“Why aren’t you in the medical room?” he asked, frowning.  “Grandma will be angry.”  Scott winced.

“Grandma thinks I need to eat,” he shuddered.  “Homemade food.”

Just the mention of homemade food when Grandma was around was enough for Alan to shudder, too.  No wonder Scott had escaped.

“What about John?” he asked, and Scott paused for a moment before shaking his head.

“I couldn’t get him out,” he said.  “But Grandma’s letting him have proper food, not…” he trailed off, but Alan understood.  They all understood when it came to Grandma and food.

“Okay,” he said, and Scott cocked an eyebrow at him.  “You can stay.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Scott grinned, wrapping an arm around him and gently pulling him close.  “Best little brother.”

Alan glowed at the praise, even if he knew by now that they were all ‘best little brother’ when it suited Scott.  Just like they were all his best big brother when they did what he wanted.  It was still nice to hear.

The fact that Scott’s arm was shaking slightly was not so nice, and he frowned at his brother. Scott had closed his eyes again; his skin was still pale – paler than Alan’s, he realised when he put his hand on his forehead.

“I’m okay, Allie,” he mumbled, cracking a single eye open a sliver to peer at him.  “Just tired.”

“Promise?”  Alan remembered Dad carrying him in, blood dripping onto the floor.  It had been a few days since then, but it still gave him nightmares.  He hadn’t played any of his zombie games since.

“I promise.”  His eye closed again and Alan watched as his breathing evened out, chest rising and falling steadily in sleep.  Scott spent a lot of time sleeping now; Grandma said it was normal because he’d lost a lot of blood, but it worried Virgil so it worried Alan, just a little.

He curled up against Scott, careful not to get too close to anywhere he was hurt, game entirely forgotten in favour of watching him.  Just to be sure.

There was a commotion outside, hurried footsteps passing past his door in both directions before someone knocked and he froze.

“Alan?” Dad called, pushing the door open.  “Have you seen- ah, there you are.”

Alan made a shushing noise at him, and Dad smiled, making a show of walking into the room on tip-toe and silently closing the door behind him.

“Is he sleeping?” he asked, and Alan nodded.  Dad padded across the room and sat on the edge of Alan’s bed, reaching out and brushing Scott’s hair back from his face.  Scott didn’t react, and his smile looked just a little sad.  “You can’t sleep here, Scooter; this is your brother’s bed,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” Alan said immediately, and Dad gave him a smile.

“I’m sure you don’t,” he agreed, “but Scott needs to stay in the medical room where your Grandma can keep an eye on him.  I’m impressed he made it all the way up here.”

“He said Grandma was cooking,” Alan said, and got a chuckle.

“That would do it,” Dad nodded before standing back up.  “Well, even I’m not cruel enough to subject Scott to that, so I’ll let him hide here for now.  Don’t let him leave when he wakes up, though – he shouldn’t be walking around.  I’ll fetch him later, when the threat’s gone.”

Alan nodded his agreement and watched Dad leave the room before settling back down with Scott, at least until he heard the voices.

“Have you found him?”

That was Grandma, and Alan tensed again.  Dad understood, right?  Dad wouldn’t make Scott eat that?

“He’s hiding in Alan’s room.”  What? Now Grandma would come in and Scott would have to eat her cooking and he’d be miserable!  How could he do that?

“He can’t hide forever,” she said.  “He’ll have to face it eventually.”

“When he wakes up,” Dad promised.  “Getting to Alan’s room exhausted him.”

“When he wakes up,” she agreed.  “He can’t avoid John forever.”

Wait, what?  Avoid John?  Why would Scott want to avoid John?  Wasn’t it Grandma’s cooking he was hiding from?

They moved away, leaving him sat on his bed with his biggest brother taking up most of the space. Alan looked at him, seeing how pale he looked, before coming to a decision.  It was easy enough to find his spare blanket and drape it over Scott, tucking him in gently before padding out of his room and heading for the medical room.

John was sat up in bed, tablet propped up in front of him as he read whatever was on the screen.  He looked up as Alan approached.

“Hey, Alan,” he greeted with a grin.  Alan glanced over at Scott’s abandoned bed as he passed it, before perching on the chair next to his brother.  John also looked at the bed for a moment, before setting the tablet down and facing him as best he could with three of his limbs in casts.  “Is something wrong?”

“Grandma said Scott was avoiding you,” Alan blurted out, and John sighed.

“He is.”

“But…” Alan faltered, not expecting that response.  Why would Scott avoid John?  That didn’t make any sense.

“He’s got it into his head that this is all his fault,” John explained.  “He blames himself even though it was my idea, and he’s avoiding me because he thinks that’ll keep me safe.”

“What?  Why?  Scott keeps us safe!”  Alan couldn’t imagine a world without Scott there to keep the nightmares away.

“Because he’s an idiot,” John sighed.  “It doesn’t help that Dad had a go at him for exploring the paths when we were told not to. He’s grounded for two weeks after Grandma discharges him.”

“Scott’s in trouble?”

“Because he disobeyed me. John is also grounded.”  Alan jumped when Dad started talking – he hadn’t noticed him.  “Is Scott still in your room, Alan?”  He nodded. “Well if he’s going to sleep he might as well do it here.”  Alan watched him leave before turning to John.

“But… Grandma’s cooking..?” John chuckled lightly.

“The one thing she can make is hospital food,” he assured him.  “The soup she’s feeding Scott is perfectly edible and he knows it.”

“Oh.”  Scott had lied.

“He’s just upset about what happened,” John continued.  “Don’t worry about it.”

When Dad walked back in a few minutes later, Scott was still covered in Alan’s spare blanket.

“Do you think Scott can borrow it a while longer?” the man asked as he gently lay a still sleeping Scott back on the bed.

“Will it help?” Alan asked, and he nodded.  “Then yes.” He reached over and straightened it out over his brother again.  Scott let out a small groan and Dad backed away.

“That’s my cue to leave,” he said.  “Alan, could you stay with your brothers for me?”  He nodded, and the man left the room.

Barely a minute later, Scott’s eyes opened.  They landed on John and immediately snapped shut again with another groan.

“Scott?”

He opened his eyes again.

“Allie?”

“Don’t avoid John,” Alan said immediately, watching blue eyes widen.  “You’re his big brother!  You can’t ignore him.”

“I got him hurt, Alan,” Scott protested.  He started to sit up, then made a face and lay back down again.  “It’s my fault.”

“I’m the one that wanted to go out to see the stars,” John argued.

“I should have stopped you!”

“If I wasn’t going to listen to Dad, why would I listen to you?”

Eyes wide, Alan looked between his two brothers.  Both of them looked agitated, confined to their beds by their injuries but with a point to prove.

Scott opened his mouth a couple of times but no sound came out.

“Scott, whose blanket are you holding?” John challenged, and Alan watched as Scott looked at it, running the edge of the fabric through his fingers.

“Alan’s?”  Scott looked at him, surprised, and Alan shrugged. “Why?”

“So you didn’t get cold,” Alan told him, and Scott softened, smiling at him.

“Thanks, Allie.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” John continued.  “If you honestly thought you were a danger to me, you would never have run to Alan, would you?”

“Hey!”  Alan wasn’t entirely sure what John meant by that, but why wouldn’t Scott go to him?  He was his brother too, right?

Scott heaved a huge sigh, and Alan looked at him in surprise.

“Stop being sensible and right,” he grumbled, but without any malice.

“I’ll stop when you don’t need me to,” John retorted, but he was smiling.

“Hush you,” Scott muttered. “C’mere, Allie.”  He extended his hand and Alan took it, letting his biggest brother draw him closer.  “This is your blanket so share it with me, okay?”

Alan wasn’t entirely sure what was going on anymore.  Scott and John seemed to have just solved an argument but he didn’t understand what it had been about or how it had been solved.

“You’re not going to avoid John anymore?” he asked, stopping just short of the bed, and Scott shook his head.

“Not anymore,” he promised.  “Come up here?”

“Okay.”  Alan climbed onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and curling up under the blanket with his biggest brother.  It was warm and comfy and safe, and even though it wasn’t bedtime he found himself getting sleepy.

“It looks like they’ve sorted themselves out,” he thought he heard Grandma say some time later.  Dad laughed.

“As if they’d have it any other way,” he replied.  A hand brushed his hair lightly.  “Sleep well, boys.  Look after each other.”

Of course they would.

Fin

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #alan tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #hollow

[strongerwiththepack]

Sensory Sunday: See

A new challenge you say? I am in. Believe it or not I have a half written fic on my laptop for IRRelief but I never got round to finishing it - whoops! Anyways, I work better with a deadline so managed to bash this one out today. It felt really good to be writing again, thanks so much for organising another challenge for us @gumnut-logic!

Gordon groaned into his pillow at the sound of the claxon but jumped out of bed nonetheless. Glancing at the clock he calculated that he’s barely gotten 3 hours of sleep and rubs his eyes tiredly. When he gets to the lounge Scott’s already there with John. Virgil and Alan are still out on their own rescue. Gordon was usually Virgil’s primary co-pilot but he’d been out on a solo rescue at an underwater research centre when the call had come in so Alan had taken his place.

Scott seemed to be arguing with John when he walked in. “-didn’t have to wake him, I can handle it.”

John glared. “You won’t be able to use the autopilot on One in those winds Scott, this is a two man job.”

John seemed to notice him then. “Sorry Gordon, I know you didn’t get much sleep. You feel up to it?”

Gordon stretched his arms above his head and grinned. “Totally. I am well rested and raring to go.”

He reckoned the statement was kind of ruined by the fact he was still in his pjs with bed-head but he tried his best.

Scott rolled his eyes at the statement as he made his way over to his chute. “Fine, suit-up Gordon but you are off duty for 12 hours minimum when we get back.”

“Aye-aye captain” he said with a salute while running towards his elevator.

…

Scott briefed him on the situation while they flew. A climber had gotten his ropes tangled on the side of a cliff in the French Alps. He was caught on the rocks and had broken his leg when he’d been slammed into the side of the side of the cliff. Mountain Rescue couldn’t get to him due to the growing wind in the area.

Gordon wondered how idiotic you had to be to scale a mountain at this time of year by yourself. That was like rule number one of rock climbing - always have a buddy. Hell, he wasn’t even allowed to go rock climbing on Tracy Island without one of his brothers. It was just common sense.

Gordon rarely flew in Thunderbird One and it was crazy how quickly they got there. Don’t get him wrong he loved Thunderbird Two but he had to admit he was impressed. Even if he had been pushed back into his seat by the G-forces the whole way.

Scott slowed as they reached their destination and John came on the line to direct them to the climbers location. With the reduced speed Gordon was able to stand up and prep for the rescue. He pulled on his helmet and strapped into a harness at the hatch of his brothers bird.

Scott voice sounded through his comm. “Okay Gordon I have sights on the climber, we’re about as close as we’re gonna get.”

Gordon gave confirmation that he was ready and Scott opened the hatch. The wind was harsh as it roared through the opening. Thunderbird One was even swaying slightly as his brother fought to keep her still.

Gordon hooked Thunderbird One’s grappling cable to his belt before taking out his own grappling gun. Scott could have shot One’s grappling cable out on his own but in these winds there was too big a risk of hitting the climber. It was safer for Gordon to grapple across first and attach the bulkier line by hand.

He shot his grapple gun towards the top edge of the cliff, well above the climber, and grinned when it attached straight away.

“Oh yeah, got it in one.” He boasted over the comms. “Heading out now.”

He could practically hear Scott’s eye roll over the comm. “FAB Gordon.”

Gordon braced himself and pulled the cord taunt before jumping down out of the hatch. He sailed across in a smooth arc through the piercing winds and bent his knees as he collided with the rock. He quickly found some hand-holds to steady himself and started making his way over to the climber who was a couple of metres to his right.

He knew John had been in contact with the climber but he called out anyway. “Hey there, heard you got yourself in a bit of trouble here.”

The guy was pretty much flattened against the cliff, one leg hanging loosely while the other was bent up onto a foothold, trying to take some of his weight off of his ropes. His teeth were chattering and his cheeks were red and starting to blister.

Hypothermia. Gordon thought grimly. The guy had been exposed to extreme icy winds for over an hour now. With the broken leg Gordon knew he could be dealing with shock as well

The guy did manage to give him a small smile that turned more into a grimace. “International Rescue.” He said with a relived tone. “Boy am I glad to see you.”

The guy was older than Gordon had expected but he could tell the man must have been a seasoned climber. He had all the right gear and looked to be in pretty good shape for his age. Kind of reminded Gordon of his dad.

Gordon smiled. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Gordon scanned the ropes and decided there was no use trying to salvage them. With the cold and the mans broken leg it would be better just to get the man secure and cut the ropes.

“We’ll get that leg set as soon as we’re inside Thunderbird One okay? Any other injuries?” Gordon asked as he attached another carabiner to the man harness, attaching the man to himself.

He looked up as the man shook his head. His heart stopped as he caught sight of something over the mans shoulder. Hardly 10 meters away was one of the chaos crews bombs. There was a blinking light that was steadily getting faster. Dammit.

No time for taking it slow now. He quickly attached the man to one of the ziplines hanging from the line coming from Thunderbird One. His own line was already attached so he gave a quick yank of the line, making sure it was secure before all but pushing the man off the cliff yelling “GO!”

The man yelped as he was suddenly airborne and Gordon followed close behind. He winced as the mans broken leg slammed against Thunderbird One’s interior as they made it inside but he didn’t have time to do anything. He turned back and pressed the manual release of the grapple line to detach them from the mountain.

“What the hell Gordon!?” Scott’s angry voice sounded over the comm. He’d basically broken every single safety procedure they had.

“Go Scott! Get away from the mountain! We’re in.” He yelled. There would be time for explanations when they were out of range of the blast zone. Gordon knew the damage one of Fuse’s bombs could cause.

He knew Scott wanted to shout at him some more but he couldn’t fault his brothers trust in him when they quickly flew away from the cliffside. The hatch started closing as Gordon helped get the man strapped into a seat. He didn’t want to cause the guy any more damage if this thing exploded and rocked their ship.

Gordon realised if there was a bomb on the mountain, the chaos crew couldn’t be far away. He didn’t want to admit that thought made his heart beat a bit faster. The memories of his last encounter weren’t going away anytime soon.

“Scott be careful, I think the chaos crew are in the area.” He warned across the comm link.

“Dammit.” Scott swore, his voice tinted with a growl. “John, can you see anything on the scanners.”

“Nothing Scott.” John was quick to reply. “They could have upgraded their cloaking technology though. EOS is running a more thorough scan.”

“FAB, John. Why do you think they’re here Gordon?”

“I saw one of their bombs on the mountain. It was about to blow.”

John hummed across the line. “There haven’t been any explosions in the area as far as I can see.”

“Maybe it was one of those proximity bombs or something.” Gordon theorised.

Johns answer was crisp. “I’ll look into it.”

Gordon couldn’t help the unease he was feeling as he got himself back into the mindset of a rescuer and returned to helping the climber.

“Sorry about the rough landing.” He tried to keep his voice light. “Let’s take a look at that leg.”

The man just nodded clearly still a bit shaken.

…

Gordon made his way back to the cockpit once they’d unloaded the climber to the local hospital. He gave the man a few choice words about not climbing alone in the future but from the pat on the shoulder and the alright sonny he’d received, he was pretty sure it hadn’t gone in.

He sat down heavily in the cockpit and once they were airborne Scott switched to autopilot and swivelled in his chair to face the younger man.

“Are you okay?” Scott eyed him wearily.

Gordon could understand the concern. That was his first encounter with anything hood-related since his accident.

“I’m fine, Scott.”

At the pointed look he received he sighed. “Honestly, Scott, I am.”

“Okay.” Scott conceded. “Talk me through what happened.”

When Gordon was done Scott gave him a confused look. “Why would the hood go to the trouble of placing a bomb and then not show up? Or even detonate it for that matter.”

Gordon just shrugged. He’d been wondering the same thing. In fact, he was still wired up waiting for a surprise attack. Anywhere they found chaos crew tech, the chaos crew were never far away. And they always showed up.

“Did the climber say anything?”

Gordon shook his head. “Said he didn’t even see the bomb. Don’t know how he missed it, it must’ve been right next to him for the whole hour he was there.”

Scott frowned at that. Something just wasn’t right here. “John notified the GDF, they’re going to scout out the area in a few hours once the storm has passed.”

Gordon just nodded at the statement. “Good.”

…

Gordon woke up that afternoon feeling a lot better after a good 8 hours of sleep. Despite it being the early hours of the morning when they’d gotten back last night he’d had to do a pretty thorough debrief with Scott and he was practically falling asleep standing up by the time they’d finished.

He wandered through to the lounge with a towel hung over his shoulder. With all the stress yesterday, he really needed to get in some laps of the pool.

He found Scott at their fathers desk later in the day. “Hey Scott, any word from the GDF?”

“Yes and no.” His brother replied cryptically with a sigh. Gordon caught the bags under his brothers eyes and knew Scott hadn’t slept as well as he had. He had a worried afterthought that maybe Scott hadn’t slept at all but John was usually on top of that.

Gordon rolled his eyes when his brother didn’t continue. “Are you going to elaborate or..?”

Scott seemed to have forgotten he was there as he looked up from the computer again. He must be working on something. “Uh yeah sorry Gordo.”

“The GDF combed the area but they couldn’t find anything. Not a trace that someone had even been there let alone any tech from the chaos crew.”

Gordon frowned and Scott eyed him wearily. “John’s been monitoring the area as well and he hasn’t found anything, not even a blip in the data…listen Gordon, are you 100% sure you saw something?”

Gordon could hear the reluctance in his brothers voice as he asked the question but it still stung a little. He became defensive. “Yes! It was there Scott.”

Scott held up his hands in a placating manor, but Gordon felt it gave off more of a patronising feel. “Just a question Gords. The visibility wasn’t great and it was a high stress situation, I’m just asking if you’re sure.”

Gordon frowned and actually took a second to think back. The visibility hadn’t been great but he’d seen it! He couldn’t have missed it with the red blinking lights counting down to his doom.

“I’m sure Scott.” He said decisively.

Scott nodded at his statement. “We’ll keep looking into it, if the hood has a new cloaking technology we need to know about it.”

When Scott went back to typing away on his computer Gordon couldn’t help but notice the slither of doubt present on his eldest brothers face. The pain he felt at the slight loss of trust was hard.

…

There was another call a few hours later. A cave-in, multiple groups of climbers scattered throughout the complex mining system. This was an all hands on deck sort of job, luckily Gordon had just passed the 12 hour mark since their last rescue.

He and Alan were burrowing into the East mining site on foot while Scott and Virgil took the West and Central sites respectively. There was only a short tiff from Alan about having to be babysat. If Gordon was honest, he was pretty sure it was himself who was being ‘babysat’ but he didn’t let Alan know that.

Honestly, he quite enjoyed rescues with his baby brother. Alan was much easier to wind up than Virgil and much less dangerous to wind up than Scott. Don’t even get started on the complex task that is winding up John. This was just some fun banter with his little brother who could definitely fire back as good as he got it.

“Y’know every time I look at you in your uniform it just reminds me of when you used to dress up as a power ranger.” Gordon hummed as they walked. Alan’s face turned thunderous and he knew he hit a good one.

“Maybe it’s the shoulder pads” he continued musing as he placed a hand on his chin in mock contemplation. “Oooor” he drawled out. “It’s just the fact that you’re still a little sprout with a babyface.”

Alan glared at him.

“Grandma says I’m going to grow taller than you.” His little brother huffed, sticking out his tongue at the end just to add to Gordon’s enjoyment of the childish statement.

“Oh definitely.” He nodded back. “Going to go from a baby sprout to a bean sprout just like Johnny. Maybe you’ll get the bad coordination to go with it.”

“I can hear you, you know Gordon.” John lectured through his watch.

Gordon at least had the grace to give a sheepish look at his space-bound brother.

“Sorry Johnny.” He grinned with basically no conviction behind the words.

“Mmm-hmm” John shot back.

Alan turned around, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. “You know, we all know you’re just overcompensating for your own height. Too bad you can’t grow out of that one.”

With the cheesy grin on his brothers face Gordon knew he thought he’d got him with that one. Gordon couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’ll have you know I am very comfortable with- ALAN MOVE!”

All Alan had time to do was widen his eyes in panic and start to turn to glance over his shoulder before Gordon grabbed his brother and forcibly shove him behind him. Alan wasn’t ready for that though and lost his footing, taking Gordon down with him.

Alan cried out as they landed hard on the ground and Gordon panicked, thinking it had got him. He looked around wildly but saw nothing. The needed to move.

“What the hell Gordon!?” He heard Alan grunt out.

He practically full-on lifted his brother off the ground in his hurry to get out of there and he didn’t miss his Alans hiss of pain as he cradled his wrist to his chest. He mentally stored that information away for later and gave his brother a light push back towards the way they’d come.

“Run.”

“What’s going on Gordon?” John questioned with a hint of stress behind his words.

They were still running as Gordon answered, keeping Alan in front of him and glancing back frantically to make sure nothing was following them.

“A mecha tried to attacked Alan!”

“A mecha? The Mechanic is in custody Gordon, it couldn’t have been a mecha.”

“Well considering one almost just electrocuted Alan, I think you might want to double check that Johnny.” He huffed out.

“FAB Gordon, I’ll inform Scott and Virgil.”

Gordon didn’t let them stop running until the broke out into the sunlight again. Both him and Alan took a second to pant as they regained their breath. Gordon focused on his little brothers’ wrist immediately which he still held cradled to his chest.

“You okay?” he asked.

Alan grimaced. “Think I sprained my wrist.”

You mean you think I sprained your wrist. Gordon thought darkly as he recalled pushing his brother to the floor.

“Let get it wrapped in Two.” He sighed.

Virgil came running up to them then.

“What the hell happened?” Virgil exclaimed, seemingly trying to assess both his brothers simultaneously as his head pinballed between them almost comically.

“There are mechas in the tunnels!” Gordon told his brother worriedly. “Where’s Scott?”

“He’s on his way out with a group of miners.” Vigil hyper-focused onto Alan’s wrist as Gordon internally winced at the fact that him and Alan had abandoned the miners they were supposed to rescue.

“The mecha did this?” Virgil questioned Alan as he turned his brother’s wrist over gently.

“Uh, well not exactly.” Alan said sheepishly, looking at Gordon apologetically. “Gordon push me out of the way, and I fell on it.”

“Sorry Al.” Gordon said sincerely.

Alan waved him off, but Gordon still felt bad.

…

Scott joined them while they were in Two’s medbay. Alan sat on one of the pull-out beds, wrist wrapped tightly and had taken a couple of mild painkillers to chase away the ache.

Gordon startled as Scott came storming into the room.

“Mechas!? I thought we were done with those! What’s going on?”

John popped up then, like he always did when answers were needed. “I’ve spoken to the GDF, they’ve confirmed The Mechanic is still in custody.”

“So, the hood is using mechas now? Or the chaos crew?” Scott questioned, running a hand through his hair stiffly. Gordon could practically see them turning grey on the spot.

“It doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t have any answers right now.” John said with a frown. It wasn’t often John couldn’t provide the answers and Gordon knew it made him uncomfortable.

“There’s something else.” John said wearily. “I’m still not picking up any signs of any hostiles in the area.”

“What are you saying John?” Scott prodded.

“I should be picking up something on my scanners Scott. Even if the chaos crew aren’t here I should be able to pick up the mechas, I’ve always been able to in the past. There’s just nothing.”

Scott sighed. “FAB John, just keep looking.”

John pursed his lips as if he wanted to say something else but signed off nonetheless.

“We need to go back in to get the last group of climbers.” Scott said wearily.

Gordon started. “The GDF-“

“-won’t get here before this whole tunnelling system collapses” Scott countered quickly.

“How many mechas did you see?” Virgil queried from the side.

“Just the one.” Gordon answered.

“Alan?”

Alan looked like a deer caught in headlights as he looked between Virgil and Gordon. “Well to be honest, I didn’t see any.”

Scott’s brow furrowed at that one.

“Wait what? You didn’t see anything Alan?” Scott questioned.

“Uh no. Gordon pushed me down before I could look.”

Scott and Virgil shared a look and Gordon felt anger bubble up from within him, they’d clearly talked about this.

“Don’t act like I’m not here, I know what you’re thinking Scott.” Gordon growled. “I know what I saw.”

“I’m not saying anything.” Scott tried to diffuse.

There was a beat of tense silence before Scott frowned and headed over to the supply cupboards, taking out some clips to reload his grapple. The silence as he did so was deafening.

Scott put his field commander persona back in place as he continued. “Okay. Virgil, you come with me to get the last group of miners.”

“I can come too.” Gordon tried. “Safety in numbers and all that.”  

“I want you to stay with Alan” Scott said firmly in his Commander voice. Gordon knew that meant there was no room for argument.”

“Fine.” He said in a huffy voice, sitting back down in a chair.

Scott and Virgil made to leave.

“Just- “ Gordon started, stopping them. “-be careful okay?”

“FAB” Scott replied grimly as he and Virgil went back out towards the caves.

…

Scott and Virgil had retrieved the miners with no problems. Gordon had kind of been hoping they’d come across some trace of the Hood. He realised guiltily that he’d subconsciously been hoping his brothers would find trouble. He was glad they were safe but it would’ve been nice to have someone to backup his claims.

The trip back to the island had been pretty quiet but now was time for debrief. Gordon headed to the lounge once he’d showered and changed. He hovered in the doorway when he heard hushed angry voices in the lounge.

“What if it’s PTSD or something?” Scott whispered not-so-quietly.

“He’s not shown any other signs, you’re jumping to conclusions Scott.” That was Virgil.

“He hurt Alan! If he’s seeing things it could be dangerous.”

“No need to whisper fellas.” Gordon decided to announce his presence. “The whole island can hear you.”

“Gordon- “ Scott started, having the grace to look at least slightly guilty.

“It’s fine.” Gordon huffed as he sat down on the couch.

They waited in silence for Alan who ran in a few minutes later grinning sheepishly as Virgil glared at the damp bandages around his wrist. He was supposed to keep them dry. Gordon reckoned a trip to the infirmary was in line for his little brother once they were finished.

John popped up on cue as always and they started the debriefing. Scott talked through the actual rescue and then Gordon gave yet another account of what he saw in the mines. Albeit a much more detailed version while he was practically playing 20 questions with John and Scott. He felt like they were trying to poke holes in his story, but he tried to keep calm.

“Yeah like I said, it climbed up the wall behind Alan and pounced at him with the taser arm thing extended.”

“What was the visibility like?” Scott questioned further.

“Pretty dark but we both had our torches on and it’s kind of hard to miss a sparking spider monster in the dark Scott.” Gordon added a hint of sarcasm into his voice.

“I think Gordon’s told us enough Scott.” Virgil reasoned, always playing buffer between him and Scott.

John stepped in to give his report. “The GDF haven’t found anything in the area. And I still haven’t found anything either.”

John sounded like he was getting frustrated with himself.

“So, you pushed Alan down and it just disappeared?”

Apparently, Scott wasn’t done with his 20 questions yet.

Gordon sighed. To be honest this was the part that was bothering him as well. “Yeah, it’s weird when I knocked Alan out of the way I was sure I was in it’s path.”

He contemplated for a second before continuing. “I could’ve sworn the taser arm touched me before I fell too but I didn’t feel anything. Then I lost sight of it when I fell.”

He felt like the memory was becoming a lot clearer to him and he was finally noticing all the things that just didn’t add up.

“Come to think of it, I didn’t hear it land either.” Gordon knew he wasn’t exactly helping his story here, but he was just trying to be honest. “Those things are huge; it should have crashed to the ground.”

Everyone was staring at him now, Scott with worry, John with curiosity and confusion from both Alan and Virgil.

“What are you saying Gordon?” Scott asked gently, almost tactically.

Gordon was frustrated with this whole thing. “I don’t know okay! Something weird is going on.”

Scott spoke again, even more gently. “Listen Gordon, you’ve been through a very stressful situation when it comes to the Hood, you can tell us if you think you’re seeing things that aren’t there.”

“I know what I saw Scott!”

The concern in Scott’s eyes practically burned into his soul as his brother continued. “Paranoia is common in cases of PTSD, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Gordon scowled, scrunching his fists into the couch. “I’m not crazy Scott! Why can’t you just trust me!?”

“Well give me another answer for what’s happening then Gordon.” Scott shot back.

“I don’t know! But I know what I saw Scott!” Gordon exclaimed jumping up from the couch. All his brothers were looking at him with worried looks now and Gordon felt tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. “Why won’t you guys believe me?”

He knew he must be looking a bit crazy now but the problem was he was beginning to doubt himself as well. What if he hadn’t seen anything? Alan should have been able to see the mecha if it had been there. The climber should have noticed the bomb as well. John should have been able to pick up everything on his scanners and the GDF should have found the tech at the rescue sites.

He knows what he saw. But what if he can’t trust what he’s seeing anymore. Maybe he is imagining things. And then the worst possible thing happens. He sees a mecha on the ceiling in the corner of the living room. It just looks so unnatural in this setting that he cracks.

He sits back down heavily on the sofa and presses the heels of his hands into his head. “I don’t know what’s happening.” He whispers.

He looks back up at the ceiling and the mecha he thought he’d seen has vanished, leaving just the dark shadows of the corner. He is seeing things. His tears finally start to fall.

With tears streaming down his cheeks and panicky breaths coming from his lungs he’s not surprised when Virgil is suddenly there, kneeling down in front of him and placing hands on his shoulders.

“Just breathe Gordo. In and Out.” His brother deepens his own breathing, encouraging Gordon to imitate him. Gordon does and it gives him enough breath to let out a half-muffled sob. Virgil wraps his arms around him, and Gordon has to admit, he immediately feels slightly better. Virgil’s hugs are magic like that sometimes.

“You’re not crazy Gordon.” Virgil assures as he squeezes just a bit tighter. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Gordon sniffs, raising his own arms with a shuddering breath and hugs his brother back before tensing as his eyes catch movement on the table. He sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes watch the mecha. It’s not real. It’s not real.

But then Scott’s guilt-ridden eyes catch his own and follow his gaze. Gordon does not expect it when Scott’s eyes also widen in horror and he back-peddles away from the table so fast he almost trips.

“Holy- “

Gordon pushes Virgil off him in shock, pulling his brother up with him as he backs away, he sees Alan doing the same thing to his left. “You- you can see that?”

Scott just nods as Virgil gapes beside him.

“YES!” Gordon exclaims happily before quickly realising this is not much better of a situation. The glares he receives from his brothers prove as much.

“Sorry, sorry. Just revelling in the fact that I’m not actually going insane.” He tries to say it as a joke but his voice cracks half way though and his hands are still shaking slightly. “But I get it. New problem.”

“Why isn’t it doing anything?” Alan asks quietly and Gordon motions for his little brother to come and stand closer to him and Virgil.

“How did it even manage to get on the island?” Scott asked in bewilderment. Gordon could see the tension running through his eldest brothers body. This was their home, they were suppose to be safe here.

John’s hologram was still hovering above the table that it was standing on and a stupid part of Gordons brain was scared at his brothers supposed proximity to it. His space-bound brother was furiously typing on his keyboard with a deep frown etched onto his face.

“I don’t understand.” John exclaimed. “It’s not on any of my scanners, it shouldn’t exist!”

One of John’s hands was pulling at his hair and Gordon wondered briefly if his brother was feeling the same amount of crazy as he had just moments earlier. Well probably not the same amount, Gordon was pretty sure he’d fallen down the rabbit hole for a few minutes.

“Well I’m looking at it with my own two eyes Johnny so I can confirm it does exist.” Scott shot back.

Gordon couldn’t help himself.

“Sure you’re not seeing things Scott?”

“Not the time Gordon.” Scott grunted.

And then more of them scuttered in through the door. Another six to be precise. They scattered as they came in, covering the room.

“Dammit.” Scott swore. “Where’s Kayo?”

“She’s not on the island Scott.” John answered grimly. “I’ve called her back in but she’ll be at least another half an hour.”

“Grandma and Brains?”

“Locked in Brains’ lab, they’re aware of the situation.”

Scott nodded. “Good.”

Gordon felt Alan pushing in closer to him and peered over, noticing one of them slowly creeping towards his baby brother.

“What do we do Scott?” Gordon asked. He knew it was cruel of him to put this on his eldest brother, but he was just so used to Scott having all the answers.

“Try and get to the balcony. We can lock them inside.”

Gordon grabbed a pillow off the coach before retreating backwards towards the balcony. The mechas just seemed to stare at them as they went and Gordon thought they were going to get away easily before one started skittering towards him at a fast pace. He did the only thing he could do and threw the pillow he was holding with deadly accuracy…only to watch it soar right through the mecha.

What?

The one he’d hit seemed to shimmer slightly before reforming.

“They’re holograms!” Gordon exclaimed.

“Of course!” John gasped, a little too excitedly. “That’s why I wasn’t picking up any signals or thermals from them.”

“And why they never made any noise in the cave!” Gordon added.

Scott looked dumbfounded. “But why? Why go to all this trouble?”

It was then a low laugh sounded through the room and the mechas vanished, leaving behind a very realistic looking Hood.

“For fun Mr. Tracy”

Gordon scowled at the familiar voice.

“Hood.” Scott replied darkly. “Whatever your plan was it didn’t work, we’ve figured out your game.”

The Hood laughed under his breath, filling Gordon with unease. He even threw another pillow at the projection just to make sure he wasn’t the real thing. Thankfullt, it soared through harmlessly again.

“Knowing about them doesn’t reduce the impact Mr. Tracy. I have hundreds of microscopic projectors on your property now. They’re tiny and sophisticatedly cloaked, you’ll never find them all.”

Scott scowled, glaring at the man as he continued. “Let’s see how well you get on when you can’t even trust your own eyes.”

The man gave a roaring final laugh before signing off.

The brothers looked at each other with grim expressions. How were they going to get through this one?

Maybe tbc? I make no promises.

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #this one turned out wayyyy longer than I expected #and its technically not even finished urghh #really should have been multi-chapter with more fleshing out #tis my own fault tho #lastminute.com #as per #oh well