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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Halloween Ch3: Almost As Good As The Milan Fashion Show

I hope I don’t disappoint with my final decisions over the Halloween costume of our favorite blonds! I actually got the ideas from one of my very favorite animators ;) Enjoy y’all!

AO3 link here!

They find out what Gordon and Alan have picked out for their costumes two days before the rush of trick-or-treating starts. Jeff is due to leave in the morning for another three month long expedition for moon base repairs. That night is also the elementary school’s Halloween dance where all the kids dress up, get some snacks and candy, and parents get a free babysitting night from the school. Scott remembers it faintly through pictures of him and John on their own.

And it’s all Alan has been talking about. The school event has been hyped extensively by Gordon- no doubt ready for all the free candy and carnival games they get to play on top of trick-or-treating. Being in kindergarten, this is the first year Alan gets to go. At the same time, it’s Virgil’s last. Scott refuses to think about his middle brother growing out of the trick-or-treating age. At least he and John stopped around the same time.

After Scott gets home from school, he dumps his backpack on one of the breakfast table chairs and toes off his tennis shoes. It looks like everyone’s home before him tonight, even John. His robotics club must have gotten done before his meeting.

Virgil dashes out of the living room where Alan is playing. Gordon suspiciously can’t be heard from the general vicinity. He tugs on Scott’s wrist to pull him out of earshot from younger brothers. Scott scrunches his nose in confusion when they wind up on the stairs between the first floor and the basement.

“Virgil?”

“We should get our costumes on early. Like now!”

“Why?” Scott checks the clock on his phone. “It’s only five. Doesn’t the whole thing start at seven?”

“Yeah but… I figured you’d be the one driving us.”

“John might tag along, but yeah I’m driving. So?”

“So Dad won’t see our costumes at all! Everyone’s always tired and half the costumes have been ripped off by the end of the party. And he’s leaving tomorrow morning before trick or treating.”

“So you want a costume fashion show?”

Virgil blushes. He kicks Scott in the back of the knee. “When you put it that way, it sounds stupid.”

Scott laughs, leaning on the stair railing. “No, no. It's a good idea! Why don’t you pull him out of the office and I round up Thing One and Thing Two?”

After a quick whoop that Scott agreed to his idea, Virgil rushes all the way downstairs to Jeff’s office. Their Dad has been MIA for days as he prepares for the mission. Between packing and calling the base with even more calls out to the agency, Virgil isn’t sure his idea will fly. But a little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Scott tells him that doesn’t matter. Jeff shouldn’t miss this Halloween like the last few.

Virgil knocks for posterity’s sake. Without getting an immediate answer, Virgil barges in. Or rather, he peeks his head in through a crack in the door. His Dad is flipping through documents (not on the phone, write that down in the record books). The middlest Tracy sucks in a breath and grabs his father by the wrist without a word.

“Virgil? Wha-”

A little concerning to Jeff, but Virgil is in too high of spirits for someone to have gotten hurt. Virgil has to physically drag him out of the office to get him out to the living room. The sight that greets Jeff is his four other children sprawled about the living room couches and chairs, and the floor in Scott’s case. It’s a little ominous having all the boys sitting around in one room when it’s not mealtime. Their eyes all look to him and Virgil. Jeff’s not pleased about being dragged away from his work, but if something is wrong with his boys…

“What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Virgil shakes his head before breaking out into a smile. He flops belly first onto the largest unoccupied couch cushion. “We’re going to show you our costumes!”

“You dragged me out to show me costumes?”

“We all think it’ll be a fun thing to do before you miss Halloween,” Scott grits out. “Again.”

Maybe he should be a bit more cordial with his father. But for God’s sake, he has five sons and is leaving again for the Moon of all places! A two-week notice would have been nice. Damn. Just the sight of Jeff makes Scott realize that he’s been out of sight, out of mind for too long during his home visit after the first few days. He stamps down the frustration.

Jeff grumbles. John doesn’t seem too pleased about being dragged out of his room either, but that can be chalked up to teenager anti-social tendencies. It is John after all.

Virgil volunteers to go first. No arguments arise- it was Virgil’s idea so it’s only fair he goes first. He bounds up the stairs two at a time to get up to his room. They hear Virgil pacing about from down below- a sound soon drowned out by Alan and Gordon’s chatterings. Jeff is distracted, pulling out his phone to check statuses. It’s not hard to tell even by Jeff’s normal tendencies. Their dad doesn’t look away from his phone even as Alan clamors into his lap.

“What candy do you want most, Daddy?”

Jeff breaks his stare away from the reflecting screen. “Hmm?”

“I want Sour Patch Kids. Or those sour sucking candies,” Gordon supplies.

“Warheads.”

Gordon nods at Scott’s correction. “Warheads! They hurt and it’s funny to see Alan try and eat them.”

It figures Gordon wouldn’t even like eating them as much as he does seeing his brothers react to the citric acid. Scott rolls his eyes. He kicks his legs out in front of him, his back to the recliner’s base. Alan pouts at Gordon with crocodile-tear eyes. Unlike the older brothers, he doesn’t totally understand why it’s funny to see him eat Warheads. He can’t even remember the taste of the candy, but Gordon’s tone is the one he uses when mocking him.

“No it’s not! It’s not even good candy!”

“Is to!”

“Is not!”

“Is to!”

Alan starts kicking his legs, trying to get away from Jeff’s now tightening grip. Alan stretches his arms past Jeff’s arm to get a hit in on his brother. Scott rubs at his eyes as he leans head back. Time to try and intervene. “Hey Alan, what candy do you like then?”

“None!”

“It can be any flavor?”

“Not Gordon’s flavor!”

Scott sends a helpless look to Jeff. At least he’s not the one holding back the tiny terror. A saving voice floats across from the lone recliner.

“I remember you liked chocolate last year. Was it Snickers or something without peanuts you traded all your Twizzlers for?”

“… no nuts, but I like the crispy chocolate. And not Twizzlers.”

“Oh, Crackle? That one’s pretty yummy. I bet Scott will trade you his if he gets any this year.”

God bless John and his knack for calming the tinies down. If Scott tried any further, he wouldn’t even get into one of Alan’s ears. Middle of meltdowns he can handle. But diffusing meltdowns before they even happen? That’s all John and his quiet, no nonsense voice.

Scott tackles the task of scooting over the carpet next to Gordon. He throws a mock headlock over Gordon’s neck and earns a round of devious giggles. Keeping him pinned on the floor, there’s no way for him and Alan to start a physical fight now. John starts slapping the arm of the couch while counting down in a WWE announcer’s voice.

There’s a flash of movement from the couch and, oh yeah, their dad is here. Scott can’t very easily prod him to join in on the conversation more from down here.

The littlest brother is pacified once again. When he turns to Scott with hopeful eyes that he’ll be getting Scott’s loot on top of his own, the eldest can only shrug. He’s not the one doing the trick-or-treating, that’s all the little three. He’s just the chaperone. Gordon cranes his neck back against Scott’s arm to look at John. “What candy do you want this year?”

“He’s not coming, ‘member?” Alan pouts a little too harshly.

“Why?”

“He’s handing out candy.”

“More like gonna leave it in a bowl and turn off all the lights and be sad in his room alone.”

John kicks Gorgon's head with his foot. Oof. That’s why you don’t mess with John and his ridiculously long legs. “Don’t tell them my master plan, Fish. Scott won’t let me do it next year if he finds out.” Like Scott wasn’t banking on that already happening. “I don’t know what kind I like though. All of it.”

“Scotty? Sour Patch Kids?”

“Eh. I’m not big on sour.”

“Airheads?”

“Sure, those are pretty good.”

Before Alan or Gordon has a chance to move on, Virgil loudly trumps down the stairs. He’s definitely wearing some kind of boot that he wasn’t before. Gordon screeches in Scott’s ear before they see Virgil, “Virge! Favorite candy?”

“Candy corn.”

“God, it’s like you’re an old man already,” John quips.

Virgil huffs like he’s mad at the statement, but at the end of the trick-or-treating night, he’s the only one not duking it out over candy trades. Everyone gives him the candy corn and he gives everyone else free range of his bucket. Win-win. Anything that’s leftover he’ll gladly eat, but the candy corn is his top-tier, one true, candy love.

Virgil rounds the corner of the stairs. He coughs a little to grab the attention of the room.

“Pard’ner.”

“Oh my God Virge..”

“Is that… my old Stetson?”

And it is. The hat fits atop Virgil’s head a little too loosely, covering his eyes more than he intended. But it matches the rest of the cowboy ensemble that Virgil picked out at the Halloween store. He has a long faux leather jacket reaching down past his knees over a button down shirt and chaps. A green bandana is tied around his neck for easy access as a mask. On his feet are the clunky cowboy boots Grandma Tracy bought him last Christmas. All that’s missing is a bit of paint on stubble and a bottle of Jack.

Jeff nods in his approval. “A cowboy, classic.”

Virgil hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his chaps. The twelve-year-old poses a bit more for the ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’s’ of his brothers. After deeming the praise to be sufficient, Virgil takes his place on the couch next to Alan and Jeff.

John decides he’s next. “To get it over with.” His excuse fools everyone but Jeff and Scott who know he’s just as excited about getting to dress up for Halloween as the younger boys. John’s always loved Halloween and the festivities, just not the crowds of people that go along with the orchard or trick-or-treating.

He makes record time and is back down before anyone can blink. In about five seconds, he’s fully dressed and… in the same jeans and a ‘NPH Track & Field 2051’ pullover. The only thing different is the bloodstained mask to finish it off. He does no sort of show other than a dramatic hand flourish before flopping back down in the recliner, legs over one armrest.

“Clown, another classic.”

“That’s all you’re doing?”

“Nah, I have a fake machete from a few years back somewhere downstairs and Virgil’s lock to his paints is broken,” John smirks. “I’m thinking I need a bit more blood splatters to really set the mood.”

So long as he doesn’t traumatize any little kids stopping by, Jeff won’t intervene.

Gordon starts squirming until Scott lets him loose like a wind-up car. Looks like Alan’s going last after Gordon gets whatever amalgamation of costumes he’s found himself at the Halloween store. With the fish upstairs getting himself ready, the living room falls to a hush. Alan is telling Jeff what all has been going on at school leading up to the Halloween dance, and Virgil is messing with his cowboy boots.

Welp, the party certainly goes with Gordon.

It’s only around an hour before they have to leave to get the kids to the school on time. John pulls off his clown mask to breathe easier. It’s too bulky to keep on for long periods of time. That, and he can’t read his tablet with the eye holes cut so small. He flicks through a few recipes he’s found that would be easy enough to make tonight. Normal John cooking was pretty simple and familiar with a new recipe thrown in on occasion. But since their dad is home, he wants to try out something a bit more adventurous. Maybe some type of fried rice if they have the ingredients…

Scott looks half asleep on the floor. John whispers to try and get his attention with no luck. He had to wake up early to get an FFA meeting in and stayed late. And now he has to drive the littles to and from school when he should be doing homework or relaxing. John changes his supper idea to Shepard’s Pie. Scott deserves one of his favorites.

Announcing his presence makes Gordon hard to ignore. He blares a sound like a grand trumpet on the royal court. He switches off the lights from the landing switch, and turns to flickering it on like a horror movie. John lets his tablet drop onto his chest. And Scott says he never pays attention to these things. As his little brother trumps down the stairs one by painstaking one, the rest of the family cranes their necks. The first showing brings more questions than answers.

“And you are…”

Gordon untangles a thin electrical cord running from his mask, through his sleeve, and down to his hand. The world’s most horrifying recorded screech fills the air. “An Eldritch blood God named Daniel. Obviously.”

A rarity crosses over the Tracy household like a blanket.

Pure silence.

“…another classic.”

Even John loses it at that one. It’s just like their dad- their old dad- to take Gordon’s wackiness in stride with no more than a nod and simple acceptance. John’s laughter sparks back the noise of others laughing, and the endless questions shoot Gordon’s way. How the kid even came up with the idea is beyond any of them.

To be fair, Gordon’s costume is pretty amazing. He must have spent all that time in the costume shop gathering little pieces to put together. A tattered black coat covers most of his costume, but when he shifts, they can see the complete costume underneath. It’s a long robe that trails across the floor (certainly an adult size rather than a child’s). It has intricate cross stitching that shimmers gold under the living room light, along with extra stitched arms that hang down from Gordon’s armpits. Scott can only guess they came from a spider costume of some sort. Homemade blood stains and black paint are strewn about the fabric to make it all the more horrifying.

Combine that costume with a demonic mask that looks as if it’s spouting roots straight from the skin, and Gordon’s made himself an award-winning spook.

Gordon pulls his mask off for a gulp of fresh air. “I think I need some hair dye and extra makeup and a staff or something.”

“Tonight? No way.”

“Maybe for actual trick-or-treating?”

Virgil lets out a sigh. He’s always relegated to the Halloween makeup and hair dye expert. The rest of the brothers are useless when it comes to artistic anything and that’s not even being mean. That’s just stating the truth. If Gordon wanted extra makeup and hair dye tonight, well then, he simply wouldn’t. “Fine.”

Jeff nudges Alan up and out of his lap. “Come on, squirt. Yours is the last one for the night.”

Alan makes it halfway up the stairs before turning on heel and shouting back. “John! Come help!”

Virgil itches at where the leather of his coat is rubbing at his neck. “What, he gets to know first?”

“I’ve already known what Allie’s got up his sleeve,” John reveals. He follows Alan up the stairs to help him get in costume.

“Scott, do you know?”

The eldest shakes his head. He’s just as surprised as the rest of them. “I really don’t know… It’s not like John would willingly go out anywhere, even if Alan asked him. Maybe they ordered a costume?”

“Some of John’s old ones are still in storage that we never got rid of,” Jeff reminds Scott. “I bet they pulled out an old astronaut one.”

Alan’s taken to liking space like a fish to water. John’s just happy to have a little mini-me following his every venture into space tangents even if his clone is ten years younger and can’t divide. As they wait for Alan’s grand entrance, Gordon points out every detail of his own costume up close.

There’s certainly more to it than meets the eye. Virgil runs his fingers over the golden Celtic style stitching. He prays that those symbols don’t make his little brother cursed for eternity.

Gordon’s boots are two sizes too big and shoot up past his skinny knees when they should stop right below. Scott tries to place what costume they originally were supposed to go with. The closest answer he can think of is some type of pirate or buccaneer. Gordon shrugged off his mask to talk clearer. The eldest Tracy brother snags it and looks at the thick red liquid behind a plastic shield that’s controlled by the pump on Gordon’s hand. Virgil peers over his shoulder.

And here Virgil was thinking he put a lot of thought into his costume.

“Okay, close your eyes!”

Alan’s shrieking voice has Virgil dropping the mask in surprise. Beside him, Gordon jumps as well. It wakes Scott up from his dozing with a snort and vehemently denying he ever fell asleep.

“Do we have to?”

“Close ‘em!”

Scott half closes them, peaking just enough to see what Alan’s got on before the rest of them. Also so he doesn’t fall back asleep. But John knows him too well and comes down first. He covers Scott’s eyes with his own hand.

“He wants everyone to know he picked it out and made it himself with only a little help from me.”

“Sounds quite exciting, kid,” Jeff says.

John clears his throat. “Come on down Alan.”

There’s the rustling of some familiar material that Scott can’t place. His face scrunches up underneath John’s hand. His mind flips through Alan’s interests lately. Astronauts and space- that’s a given- but it doesn’t sound like ‘spacesuit’ material. Hot wheels, any cartoon with fast cars, ninjas, nothing out of the ordinary for a five-year-old boy.

“You can open them.”

They follow the orders. Scott opens his mouth, makes a sound before stopping it in his throat. He closes his mouth then opens it again. John is desperately trying to hold off a smile.

“It’s…”

“Umm…?”

Virgil finally squeaks out the answer. “A box?”

“Yes!”

Scott tilts his head. Maybe Alan didn’t catch his ever confused and questioning tone the first time. “A… box?”

“It's such a good costume, right?” John asks, putting a hand on top of Alan’s head. “Right? A cardboard box.”

Scott looks to Virgil who looks to Jeff who looks to John who looks down at Scott with a bit of a lip trying not to explode in amusement. John nudges Alan forward into the living room where he does a twirl to show all sides of the costume. And yup, that is a cardboard box with arm holes and a head hole cut into it.

“You get to take a box trick-or-treating, Scott. I don’t think many other high school seniors get to brag about that.”

Honestly, Scott wants to take a picture to make sure Alan remembers this year’s costume. Maybe they can hang it up at his graduation party in the future. Everyone at school knows he has little brothers so it’s not like this is a new thing.

“We’ve got the school party first, remember?” Virgil throws in.

At the reminder, both Alan and Gordon squeal in excitement. A check of the clock, and it is about time to eat supper before leaving. Jeff stands and corrals the younger ones to the kitchen to start setting the table. John and Scott share a look.

“This wasn’t our idea only to embarrass him… was it?”

John snorts. “I wish. I already had a whole photoshoot with him, at his insistence.” John wags his phone in front of Scott’s face. “Blackmail material the minute he turns old enough to be embarrassed.”

“Hell yes.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #Jeff Tracy #pre international rescue #wee tracy’s #halloween

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Halloween Ch2: Apples, and Pumpkins, and Cider, Oh My!

There was much excitement over seeing Gordon’s Halloween costume from the last chapter which is great! And so.... here’s a chapter without it lol. There were some really great ideas and now I’m debating reworking to see if what I had planned will hit people’s expectations. Ha! Either way, enjoy this little chapter of Wee Tracy fun I wrote instead of going to sleep at a regular time :)

AO3 link here!

To all the brothers’ surprise, Jeff is home just in time for John’s birthday on the eighth.

Albeit he’s locked away in his office most of the day, but that’s nothing new. What’s shocking is how much he’s trying to come out during the evenings if only for a family supper. The astronaut is still home. All five boys are ecstatic.

That means decorating the entire house top to bottom with decorations new and old. Jeff seems to get a kick out of having the house festive and that alone is reason enough to go all out. Virgil has taken on most of the decorating duty minus the outdoor ones; Scott is the only one that doesn’t mind crawling up the ladder to string orange and purple lights from the gutters or hauling around the heavy blow yard decorations.

For one day before the day, the family focus solely on John’s birthday. Birthdays were important between the brothers in the Tracy household. While Jeff handled what few logistics there were to be ironed out, the four remaining brothers would get the birthday brother gifts.

Scott ordered his present online a few weeks before and has stashed it under his bed. While John hates snooping for presents, Gordon doesn’t. He’d find the hidden remote-controlled rocket and blabber to John. Virgil has worked on a (scientifically accurate) painting of the night sky for the past month in his art class. Gordon and Alan had gone shopping with Scott one evening to the local mall, finding more astronomy trinkets than any one person should ever have. They narrowed it down to a heavy-duty redlight flashlight from Gordon and glow-in-the-dark stars from Alan. One set for John, and one to match for his and Gordon’s room.

John’s birthday party is a small affair- just how he likes it. Grandma Tracy comes over from her ranch and Jeff makes sure all the food is takeout so Sally doesn’t even have the option of trying to cook. They get him a strawberry cake. It’s markedly not a fall festive taste and needs to be special ordered, but it’s his favorite flavor so no one complains.

And just like that, they've moved on from John’s 15th birthday back to the spooky season.

Alan pauses as he hops off the school bus behind Virgil and Gordon. Jeff’s waiting out on the step to greet them, waving to the bus driver as she drives away. The screen door slams behind the two middle brothers as they race inside for an after-school snack and PBS cartoons. Jeff walks out to see what the towhead was looking at.

“What are you thinking about, Alan?”

The kindergartner's thinking scowl deepens. He angles his fingers in a rectangle like he’s seen Virgil do more than once. He stops on the front step.

“We need pumpkins.”

“We’ve already got those out,” Jeff reminds Alan. He points over to the decorative pumpkins framing the porch. That answer, apparently, is not what Alan is looking for.

“No! We need carving pumpkins, Daddy.”

“Well then, what do you think about heading out to the orchard this weekend? Pick out a few?”

Alan’s face lights up at the idea. The local orchards are nothing less than an autumn wonderland for everyone of all ages. A pumpkin patch, apple picking in the orchard, hayrides, corn mazes, and more activities for kids than not, the orchard was on everyone’s yearly bucket list. Scott managed to take them last year, but they had to leave early when John threw up after drinking one too many apple cider slushies.

“Can we all go?”

Jeff laughs, nudging Alan in from the chilly outdoors. “Sure thing, kid.”

“Even Scotty?”

“Even Scotty.”

Alan’s pacified by the answer. He sprints ahead once in the door, kicking off his shoes in a flurry. His backpack is just as large as he is, thumping against the back of his legs with every step up to his room to toss it on his bed. Jeff readies a bowl of Alan’s favorite cheese crackers (not the peanut butter ones, those were Gordon’s favorite, Scott reminded him) and a juice pouch.

Sure enough, Alan comes bounding out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen. He thanks Jeff with a hug around his legs before taking his snack and joining his brothers in the living room. The sound of cartoons and loud munching only capable of kids films the once quiet house. John should be back later from his robotics club and Scott said his Key Club meetings run a bit longer into the evening.

Jeff pulls out his phone to scroll through his calendar.

This weekend for the orchard, huh?

“If I try to have more than two slushies, just pinch me,” John states to Scott as Jeff helps Alan unbuckle his stuck seat belt from the SUV’s backseat. John takes the keys from Jeff to hold as Alan gets a little rambunctious. Scott snorts, kicking a chunk of gravel across the parking lot. It tumbles until it hits another car’s tire.

“Sure thing, little brother. As long as you make sure I don’t chuck one of the tinies into the Billy goat enclosure.”

“I might do that myself, though.”

“Fair enough.”

Their conversation is brought to a halt as Jeff claps Scott on the shoulder to get him leading the group towards the entrance. John eventually ends up falling back to walking with Virgil as the rest of the family makes a mad dash for the ticket booth. Out front are large hay bales decorated with pumpkins, gourds, scarecrows, and bundles of sunflowers sticking out every which way. Virgil spots it and frowns.

“What, it’s not up to your aesthetic expectations?”

Virgil shakes his head and sighs. “Should have brought my camera. I need more practice with photography and that would’ve been a cool shot with the barn in the background.”

“Didn’t Scott pack your camera?”

“What? He did?”

John pauses to think. “I’m pretty sure he did? Along with some jackets in case it got cold today. Maybe not, but I could have sworn he tossed the bag in there.”

The middle Tracy’s eyes light up. He tugs at John’s sleeve to take him back to the car. It’s a quick job, and they run to catch up with their brothers and dad. Alan is sitting on top of one of the small hay bales for posing as Gordon is dangling off the edge of a taller one behind him. Virgil snaps the first photo of the day.

Virgil is all smiles with his camera nestled around his neck. He gets to boss around his brothers and Jeff to a perfect pose one by one. The photo op is cut short by Gordon losing interest and dashing inside to the building. John and Scott hang to the back as Jeff tosses Gordon up to his shoulders.

They enter like kids in a candy factory into the building that orchard goers have to get through to get to the rest of the orchard. Everyone’s eyes widen at the familiar but still breathtaking sight. The first inhale is brought with the aroma of fresh apples and the faint sharpness of cinnamon. There’s a candy kitchen in the corner with homemade fudge and caramel dipped apples, a tiny coffee shop and seating area with a café in one half. The other half is a store for all of the orchard’s goods: hand baked pastries ranging from apple turnovers to fresh pie to buttery Dutch letters, crates of numerous types of apples, jams and jellies, and, of course, fresh pressed apple cider.

Alan is impatiently stomping on the ground, waiting for the two slowpokes to catch up before he’s allowed to explore. They came right as the orchard is opening to avoid the crowds and Alan sure as hell wants to get the most out of being the only one on the giant slide.

“You guys go ahead. We need something to eat first,” Scott tells Jeff and the little ones. He grips John’s sweatshirt sleeve to keep him by his side. John snorts at how much he’s getting dragged around this morning. Their dad nods, leading Virgil, Gordon, and Alan out the door and into the bulk of the orchard’s activity area. Scott turns to John. “You want anything to drink? I’m buying.”

Scott leads them to the coffee shop corner and John squints at the menu. He’s not a crazy big fan of coffee and it’s too early to drink one of his two allotted slushies. “Maybe the red velvet hot cocoa?”

They order the specialty hot chocolate, a triple espresso shot harvest latte for Scott, and two apple cider donuts with a side of cinnamon apples for good measure. By the time the day is over, John’s sure he’ll have eaten enough apples to never want one again all season. Or, maybe until tomorrow.

“So, plans for what you want to do here?”

“Avoid as many people as possible.” John nods in agreement to himself into his drink. “And pick out a better pumpkin than you.”

“Like that’s gonna happen.”

“It will! Especially if you drop yours and it smashes before we even get it back to the wheelbarrow.”

“Hey now, that doesn’t count! I had to pick out some random misshapen one cause Alan was getting cranky,” Scott says in his own defense. John smirks and Scott is relieved that John appears to be in a good mood today. So long as they can keep the crowds to a minimum, he should be fine until they leave and not get overwhelmed by the masses of visiting city folk who don’t know a mule from a Palomino. The corn maze and apple picking trees are usually a safe bet.

The sugar is the perfect boost to get ready to handle the rest of the brothers. While they both have half of their drinks left, the donuts and apples are long gone. John tosses the empty paper plates away as Scott wipes down their table. The eldest takes one look in the direction from a distinct ‘Gordon’ scream that reverberates through the walls of the building. He takes a long swig of his heavily caffeinated coffee.

John is two steps behind his older brother as they step out into the bright sunlit acreage. He spots their family first and nudges Scott to point it out. They’re over at the pedal tractor racetrack. It’s designed for kids, so even Alan is getting in on the action.

And action there is.

Gordon has rammed his pedal tractor into Virgil’s hard enough that they’re hooked together and the employee working must either not see or not care. Alan is quickly approaching with a determined stare as his little legs pump the pedals harder than a biker’s in the Tour de France. He crashes into the other two’s tractors and it’s finally then they're promptly removed from the tractors and told to go elsewhere.

As they approach, John spots Virgil’s camera hanging around their father’s neck. At least Virgil had the foresight to not bring it on the track. Alan spots them first, racing over to get to them before Gordon.

“Look, look!” Alan rolls up his pants leg to show the start of a nasty bruise. “Gordie crashed into me back on the slide too!”

“That’s gonna be a wicked bruise, Allie,” Scott says with a whistle. “I bet Gordon doesn’t have as good of wounds.”

Gordon chooses that moment to materialize out of the cloud of smoke and broken tractor. “I bet he does!” He shows both his elbows that, yup, have matching bruises and a scrape on the left to go with it.

“Can’t take those two anywhere…”

Scott chooses to ignore John’s mutterings to talk logistics for the day with Jeff. Every brother wants to hit at least one different attraction, so divide and conquer sounds the easiest. Other than picking pumpkins, Alan’s satisfied with racing the tractors all day. Gordon wants to swim in the corn pool and go on a jumping pillow while Virgil wants to visit the late-blooming sunflower fields. John will be sated so long as he has an apple cider slushie in hand, but Scott knows how much he likes the corn maze.

A full rest of the day, but it shouldn’t be anything but fun.

“What’s your vote, Scooter?”

“Hmm?” Scott swallows down the coffee in his mouth. It’s lukewarm by now and he smacks his lips at the taste. Jeff claps him on the shoulder twice before dropping his hand down by his side. Virgil’s camera is still hanging from his neck, the strap twisted once around.

“What do you want to do?”

“Make sure no one ends up killing each other,” Scott snorts. He points a look particularly in Gordon’s direction. “Or eat the corn pool. No trying, he will eat it.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Busted. Scott blushes and shrugs his shoulders. Maybe he should have gotten a heavy jacket to hide this morning. “I don’t really care.”

“But you do.”

Jeff won’t let up until Scott lets up. And the senior Tracy has years of experience waiting around for stubborn years while Scott only has a few.

“The apple picking. That far out one with the special hybrids.”

“That’s more like it,” Jeff says with the smallest of smiles. The crow’s feet and the corners of his eyes wrinkle. He tugs Virgil’s camera off and passes it to Scott to take care of. “You take Virgil and John then. If I remember right, the hayride takes you out to all the different fields.”

“You sure you can handle-”

“Scott, they’re my sons.” Yes, yes they are. And Scott feels a rush of love for his father. He nudges his shoulder into Jeff’s side. “What, are you taking hug lessons from John now?”

“Maybe I am.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #Wee Tracy's #jeff tracy #pre-international rescue #jeff's not too bad of a dad #*shrugs*#halloween

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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🙊

@tikatu It’s a pretty stinking adorable costume!

Here’s a cool DIY idea.

Here’s a cool DIY idea. https://pin.it/5xKbKmX

Gordon....

#gordon tracy #thunderbirds #halloween costumes

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Halloween Ch1: Costume Shop

It’s been quite the hectic start to October, but the best stress reliever is Thunderbirds and Wee Tracy boys of course! There may be a few more little fall/Halloween shorts depending on the free time I can scrounge up. Expect lots of shenanigans 😉

AO3 link here

“Well Scooter, looks like I’m in for. Tell my wife I love ‘er.”

Scott sighs. As much as he wants to bang his head on the wall, he refrains from doing so lest the dressing room attendant notices. He knocks twice on the dressing room door to let Gordon know he’s coming in before it cracks open. His eyes widen at the sight of costume after costume strewn about the tiny cubicle. Somehow this wake of destruction is no surprise when it comes to Gordon. Maybe he’s a bit to blame, letting an unsupervised child try on so many Halloween costumes without his intervention.

The boy has his head caught in the arm hole of a hotdog costume, with his actual arms both poking out the head hole. Gordon’s joke leads way to struggling. It gets more frantic in a way that only a child stuck in clothes can get. Scott barely keeps from laughing out loud, all previous frustration gone for the moment.

“You really are stuck, fish,” Scott snorts. Scott taps where he thinks Gorgon's head is under the fabric in faux reassurance. He shoves aside hangers and… whatever half of these Halloween costumes are so he can sit on the bench. With practiced ease, Scott maneuvers Gordon through to the right holes.

Gordon poses twice in the mirror with his hands on his hips before declaring he wants the hideous offending garment off immediately.

“Have you seriously not picked one you like yet? We’ve been here for three hours.”

“It’s not right. I’ll know it’s right when I have it on. I don’t even like hotdogs,” Gordon says with a voice of exasperation.

“Yes you do, Gordo. You ate three of them for supper two nights ago.”

“I don’t like them anymore. I want it off.”

The eight-year-old holds up his arms expectantly to his older brother. Scott obliges. He helps him out and tries to find the matching hanger in the sea of mess. A Herculean task by any means.

“Are there any of these you liked?” Scott holds up the edge of a pirate costume complete with an eyepatch and faux beard.

“Nope!”

“But I thought you loved pirates?”

“Not for Halloween, that’s sacr-ilgee-ous!”

“It’s really not…”

Before Gordon has the chance to slip out the dressing room door, Scott catches him by the collar of his shirt. He pointedly stares down at the costumes strewn about. Gordon huffs and puffs in dramatics that a high school speech coach would be proud of. One would think Scott asked him to build a skyscraper by hand.

With little help from Gordon, the room manages to return to a clean state. Scott bundles up the unwanted costumes in his arms to return to the attendant as Gordon dashes ahead. There’s no sight of the menace by the time he gets out empty handed. A little concerning considering its Gordon, but he’s so focused on finding the perfect costume that Scott’s not too worried he’ll up and disappear out of the store.

John, on the other hand…

Scott told him to watch over Virgil and Alan when they first arrived. John nodded with a light reassurance that he’s their older brother too. Scott knows he is, but still pulls Virgil aside to remind him that his not-so-intuitive older brother has a bad habit of vanishing in public. Virgil’s been around the block enough with John to have already expected it. At least one of his brothers is trustworthy.

Out on the store floor is much less hectic than Gordon’s little dressing room. It’s easy enough to pick out Virgil and Alan by the motion-detecting decorations. Scott can’t actually see them from here, but he recognizes Alan’s loud giggles. He finds the two in the midst of dancing witches and ghosts with flashing eyes. The laughter comes from the last decoration in the row. Each time Virgil triggers a skeleton to rise from a fog machine, the five-year-old breaks into a fit of laughter.

“Have you guys seen John?”

Alan jumps at the unexpected voice; his nerves are frayed from all of the jump scares and spooks of the decorations. Virgil pauses in trying to activate the skeleton for the nth time long enough to peer around for their brother.

“Last I saw, he was holding our stuff over with the candy.”

“He probably hasn’t moved then. You guys finished?”

“We finished ages ago!” Alan groans. “We finished so long ago that we… we’re old now. Like in our twenties.”

Scott ruffles the towhead’s hair. “Yeah, real old.”

Scott searches with his extra height over the racks for where John could be hiding away from the other families in the store. Alan clings to his leg as he starts walking down the central aisle to find John. He scoops up Alan before one of them trips. An impromptu emergency room visit is not on the roster today, thank you very much. Virgil tails a few paces behind.

“There he is!”

Scott looks to where Virgil is pointing and spots a flash of orange. Upon further inspection and… yup, that’s John. Scott’s never met anyone else with such ungodly bright ginger hair as their space case’s. He’s got his nose buried in his tablet and a few goodies at his side. The trio’s arrival hardly brings a fleeting glance before he’s turning back to his screen. Alan reaches out for Scott to drop him on the floor by the costumes.

“Which one did you get?” Scott asks the youngest.

When Alan doesn’t answer Scott, John glances over. “He didn’t. Said there was one already at home he wanted to wear.” He tucks his tablet away.

“I thought we donated all the old ones?”

John shrugs. “Then one he wanted to make. I don’t know. He was adamant.”

Virgil picks up his costume from the stack and in an apparent attempt to end his own life, tries to steal John’s tablet out of his pants pocket. John makes a swipe for Virgil with a swear under his breath. He knocks over the second costume on the bench. Well, that means John actually picked one out this year. Not that many kids would be seeing it, but the few locals that stop by the farmhouse for trick or treating would. Scott is not having a repeat of last year trying to drag John out to help him wrangle the younger three during trick or treating. Choosing to pretend John isn’t at his breaking point of a hectic day and currently trying to strangle Virgil in the middle of a Halloween store, he picks it up.

Speaking of the tinies… “Have you seen Gordon go past here?”

Alan and Virgil crane their necks in twin motions. Virgil wrestles his way out of John’s grip to stand on the chair. He spins on his foot until he can see Gordon still knee deep in costumes.

“Over by the older kid costumes! The scary ones.”

“Dang, Virg, you’ve got the eagle eye today. John and Gordon both,” Scott says. He lets out a low whistle that Virgil blushes at. John collapses back in his seat. It takes all of three seconds for him to lose interest in talking. Scott pats his sweatshirt's pocket in search of his own phone. It’s already way past Alan’s naptime, and they’ll be cutting it close driving out of town before the dinner rush. When Scott told Gordon they had been here for three hours, he wasn’t kidding.

Scott kicks John’s shin to get him to look up from the screen.

“Ow!”

“I’m getting the kid whether he has something or not. Meet me at the registers.”

Scott doesn’t stick around long enough to hear John turn his colorful vocabulary on him. Man, what happened to the quiet kid who used to be so lovable? Puberty had not done wonders on his personality. Nether had been up at 6AM for a robotics competition then dragged around a mall, then a Halloween store. Scott makes a mental note to not take it personal when John hides away in his room for the next week.

Scott wanders over to where Gordon is now admiring the superhero costumes. He’s got one clutched against his chest like someone’s going to take it away from him.

“You ready?”

“Uh, yup!”

That earns a raised eyebrow. “Okay, well, which one did you pick out?”

Rather than answering, Gordon tries to run the other way. Like he hasn’t tried that exact escape move on Scott today. Two steps, and Scott caught him. The older brother throws Gordon over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Gordon’s racked with giggles, so the costume can't be all that bad. Ignoring what little patience Scott is rationing to the situation, Gordon tugs at his brother’s sweatshirt drawstrings until they lay uneven and the hood is drawn all the way up.

Scott really wants to chuck Gordon into a pile of glue and feathers.

But he doesn’t. And doesn’t that make him a great older brother? Gordon stops squirming and relegates himself to status of ‘upside down potato sack’ bouncing against Scott.

John listens and he’s holding an increasingly sleepy Alan at the register. The cashier is finishing up scanning the last of the items. Scott brings Gordon close enough to the counter to throw his costume on, still hanging on his shoulder. There’s questions swimming in the cashier’s face as to why the Tracy boys are acting like this in public. She knows well enough to keep those thoughts to herself as Scott passes over his card.

After paying for the costumes and decorations and candy that Scott definitely didn’t put in there, the five make it out of the store. As they step out into the evening dim of the parking lot from the store, Gordon wriggles out of Scott’s grasp. He makes a mad dash for Scott’s truck. Normally, Alan would be hot on his heels but he’s limp in John’s arms. There’s no one else even parked out in the parking lot so Scott doesn’t try to stop him. With his hands full, Scott lets Virgil dig out the keys out of his sweatshirt pocket to press the ‘unlock’ button.

“Shotgun!” Gordon clamors to the passenger seat and buckles himself in. He slams the door for good measure.

The four catch up to Gordon. “Uh uh. Out,’ John says with a too-tired-to-have-this-conversation voice. The fish either doesn’t pick up on it or doesn’t care.

“Nope! I called it!”

“Take Allie.” John passes a snoozing Alan off to Virgil before wrestling Gordon out of the seat. A task certainly easier said than done; luckily, John’s already warmed up from taking Virgil down in the middle of the shop. Scott purposely ignores the “you little fucker!” and similar phrases dropping from John’s mouth as Gordon gets in a good bite on his forearm.

Virgil passes their littlest brother over to Scott. There are no arguments with Virgil as he waits for the middle bench seat to be opened up. The car seats of the littles won’t fit in the middle, and John’s too tall to fit comfortably in the back. Unless Virgil hits a growth spurt real soon and bumps John out of his second tallest brother spot, he's stuck in the middle.

Scott lets John fight Gordon out of the passenger seat to his booster seat in back while he swings the driver side’s half door open. Alan’s eyes flicker open to look at Scott before shutting again. It amazes Scott how quickly kids can fall asleep and ignore the destruction around them. With Alan strapped in tight into his car seat, Scott lets Virgil hop in first before shutting the door and starting the car.

By some grace of God, John has wrangled Gordon into his booster seat. The redhead is not a happy camper if his slamming of the door is anything to go by. Virgil scoots closer to Scott to not crowd John and make him any more stressed.

He turns the key in the ignition and points them towards home.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #Wee Tracy's #halloween mischief #halloween #pre-international rescue

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Colors

A little Saturday day drabble for you all- hope you enjoy it!

AO3 link here!

“Jeff balances the unimaginable: giving a guest lecture at MIT and herding his three little boys”

“So if you take into account the resistance drag from all of the asteroids’ gravity between here and Jupiter, the maximum size of a carrier ship is…”

“Ten!”

Jeff holds back a look as Virgil giggles at John’s exclamation. The students of the class, however, don’t hold back their coos as Scott clamors up into his lap at the same time.

“Well, as you can see, I am on babysitting duty today,” Jeff explains. Lucy had to help out her folks at the farmer’s market this morning after their normal hands got sick, leaving Jeff to manage a menagerie of sons. A nine-month-old, three year old, and very rambunctious five year old are not the best to combine with a guest lecture to PhD students at MIT.

Scott gets himself comfy and waves his own model spaceship (stolen from John, Scott certainly doesn’t have any space toys as by his own accord) to the class.

“Blue is the fastest color. You should make it blue!”

One student unmutes himself. “He may be onto something there, Mr. Tracy. You might want to look into that.”

“Actually, I would argue red is faster,” another jumps in.

Relieved that the students are better-natured than his last group, Jeff lets Scott stay in his lap. He does a quick scan of the room to find Virgil in his playpen and John by his feet with a set of action figures.

“The answer to the actual question is half a kilometer. Any larger and gravity would produce an unstable inertia.” The students jot down his answers. Jeff looks to the next few slides of his PowerPoint. They’re on the typical space travel topics that he’s sure these students have studied before in their classes. He’s just been brought in as more of a celebrity than a point of reference.

Scott makes vrooming noises as he crashes the ship into Jeff’s arm. It’s the last confirmation Jeff needs to shut out of the PowerPoint. Professor Mavis looks concerned as there’s still thirty minutes left, but Jeff waves her worries off.

“I’m sure you’re all tried and true with all the information I would have shared with you. It’s textbook information that I only add to with a few personal stories. But let’s go a little off the beaten path today. Let’s talk about those questions that no one has answered about space travel for you before.”

The students nod- they look excited- but stay quiet.

John makes grabby hands to be lifted up. Jeff moves his holoprojector to the coffee table to pick up his second son. Once again, the students cheer at the sight of another chunky little baby. John hides his blushing face into Jeff’s chest. He clears his throat. “I’ll start. Red or blue. Is one of them faster?”

“Red is!”

“Blue!”

“Guys, it’s a trick question…”

“No, red!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I think o-ange,” John adds his two cents in. That just about earns him a wallop from Scott who will die by the color blue.

Jeff laughs at the students bickering amongst themselves. “I bet you weren’t ready to discuss color theory today in class. There is a right answer, but it’s not quite based on speed. Does anyone know what we’re starting to base craft colors on?”

One of the students, a fourth year Jeff recognizes from previous talks, unmutes. “Would it be based on distance in correlation with the redshift theory? Red is easier to see for deep space missions when viewing from the Solar System?”

“That’s a good idea,” Jeff says with a nod. “But not quite. We aren’t on the level of deep space travel that redshift would need to be considered.”

“Oh, you’re right,” the student agrees. “And unless it’s emitting light, there’s no way we would probably see a reflection.”

A chorus of “ooh’s” and “umm’s” chorus.

“Anyone else?”

“Blue is best,” Scott says. He looks to the students and nods oh so seriously that the students all have to go along with it.

Jeff finally answers. “Well, we based what colors to make a ship based on-”

Virgil decides to let to a racket of noise from his playpen at the anticipated moment. He’s whacking one hard toy against another as a mock hammer. The boy shrieks in joy when a chunk of one flies off. “No, no, no Virgie! Don’t break toys!” Scott’s pushing of from Jeff to play dictator and tell Virgil that he did wrong. John takes his chance and claims the prime spot on Jeff’s lap for his own.

Jeff laughs. He can feel how red his face is with the slight embarrassment. “We base colors on destination. You want to pick a color that stands out against both space, the sun, and your destination. That immediately takes out black, yellow, and most tans or oranges. Silver is common due to it’s reflectivity. And being the normal color for most of the metals we use. But so, if you have a rocky planet mission, blue would be an excellent choice. Going to Neptune or Uranus? Blue might be the worst possible choice. Go for red.”

The students flood with Jeff questions after the gate has been broken.

John falls asleep against his chest as he continues discussing all things space with the students. Scott’s asleep on the floor, half under the table, and Virgil’s fixated on a bird at the bird feeder outside the bay window. Jeff can’t think of a more perfect day beyond if Lucy were here, napping on the other couch too.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #pre-international rescue #jeff tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #wee tracy’s #fluff #pure fluff

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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The Exordium

An insight into Scott's last mission as an Air Force Captain.

TW: injuries, overall military-esque violence, mentions of Bereznik

AO3 link here!

Seriously, this is just my brain plotting out a Top Gun: Maverick inspired one shot with Scott for the past month and finally having some free time after Christmas in July to do it. I did my best for military terms, but definitely took some liberties as this is supposed to take place in the ~2050s. Hope y’all enjoy!

Note: Preacherman is Scott and the other three are OCs

“Dagger Two, where are ya Valentine? I don’t see your position. Speed up, speed up.”

“Copy, Preacherman.”

“Maintain low altitude. I have visuals on SAMs.”

Scott peers around his shoulder, past Kronos in the WSO control seat and out the window. True to his word, Valentine swings out with a sharp increase of speed. He settles into the secondary position of a two jet attack position. Scott pushes the throttle to its max with his wingman in sight.

The mountain is coming up fast like a brick wall. Scott braces his body and shoots the F-30 up vertically, out of range of the first set of SAMs and before the second’s sensors. Kronos puffs heavy breaths behind him. It takes all of his concentration to breath in, breath out, to fight against the G’s threatening to crush his body. The oxygen can’t flow fast enough from his mask.

“Preacherman, we’ve got sight of two Whispers in the clouds. Our radar isn’t finding them.”

“Visual?” Scott asks once he catches his breath.

Kronos peers looks as far as he can around the canopy. “No radar. I can’t see ‘em either! Must be somewhere far behind us.”

“Not good. One minute, thirteen seconds inbound,” Scott informs his team.

“Smoke! I see smoke! Preacher, bank right!” Valentine’s voice cuts through the static of high altitude.

Scott takes the warning from his wingman to heart. Despite being the leader, he follows Valentine’s shouts and banks the F-30 in a tight loop.

“They’ve got lock,” Kronos shouts after smashing an array of keys. The missiles follow the direction changes almost as fast as Scott can make them. “Firing flares.”

The explosion of flares versus missiles sends a shockwave through the fighter jet. Kronos braces his forearm against the left side of the canopy to look out back. “Two Whispers inbound! First visual contact!”

Scott barks his orders like he’s more than the twenty-three years his body is. He can slip down into the mountain cliff crevasse, but Valentine and Sparrow are too far to follow. The Whispers will shoot them down before they can get to cover. “Valentine, break off! Break off!”

The second jet screams out to the right, taking one of the Whisper jets with it. But the other is trailing after Scott without a scratch. A drop off results in Scott shooting out into open air. No more Earth walls to protect him. Scott’s gripping the control stick with both hands and gasping in oxygen as he shoots up in altitude at a ninety-degree angle. The Whisper follows, unsuccessfully attempting a bullet spray. Scott pulls on the brakes, flipping the jet upside down before swopping down to get behind the Whisper jet.

The new Berezniki technology may succeed theirs, but Scott’s the best pilot of his division. And he’ll be damned if now isn’t the perfect time to prove his dogfighting skills.

“C’mon, Kronos, work your magic. Buy us some time!”

Kronos switches to a laser guided missile lock now that the enemy jet is in front. Scott doesn’t see how he does it. He never does. The jet rattles as a set of flares and machine gun bullets fire blindly out to the Whisper. It evades but doesn’t see the missile hidden by the smoke from the flares. The Berezniki jet explodes into an array of shrapnel and fire that falls beneath their wings. Scott whoops a short breath of relief.

“Enemy down. Confirmed ejection. We ain’t gonna worry about that one,” Kronos says as he taps on the canopy covering. But that means there’s still one fighter left they can’t see.

Scott’s thrown off balance as it comes down out of the clouds in pure silence. He rolls the F-30 out of the way of its guns. But before it has a chance to make a second dive at Scott and Kronos, Valentine’s F-30 launched an ambush of missiles.

“Woo boy! Second fucker down!”

“Language, fellas,” Sparrow quips. His voice is all smiles and adrenaline.

“Target thirty meters ahead. Drop bombs when you’ve got a clear shot.” Scott focuses on keeping the F-30 steady as he lowers their altitude to only 100 meters off the ground. He does a flyby and hears a short confirmation that the bombs hit the target. That’s half the battle; the other half will be Valentine and Sparrow making the finishing blow with a SEMI.

“Dagger Two, you got a lock?” Scott asks. He can’t look over his shoulder to see if his wingmen are back behind. “Dagger Two?”

“Negative, Preacherman. We’ve-”

Valentine is infuriated by a crunching sound and Sparrow’s uncharacteristically shrill voice. “Third Whisper! No tracking, visual to right twenty degrees. Valentine-”

“We’re hit! We’re hit!”

“Shit!” Scott’s instincts take over before his mind can. The Lieutenant General is not going to be happy about his actions, that’s for sure. “We’re coming, Dagger Two! Hold on!”

“Preacherman, I’ve lost sight of the Whisper again. No radar, no clear sight.” Kronos supplies. He flips switches on the paneling to his right. “Negative heat tracking. We’re fighting blind.”

That is not good news.

Scott shoves the thought in the back of his mind as he races over to cover Valentine and Sparrow. The first two didn’t show all the tricks of the Whispers. He doesn’t speak as their conversation fills the radio waves. Smoke billows out of the back of the F-30 of his wingmen.

“Engine One, on fire. Taking emergency measures!”

“No good! Extinguishers damaged in impact!”

“Fire spreading, lost control of internal combustion rods.” Valentine’s voice is tight.

“Put it out!” Scott snaps.

They’re over the heart of Bereznik’s Tempo Base. There’s a reason this mission was kept hush hush, and a reason they were briefed on the horrid doings of Tempo only after agreeing. includes learning there would be no rescue inbound should they eject. Scott talked to his four brothers last night for an hour over his allotted time. The fact the higher ups allowed it is enough reason for concern.

The jet shakes as the engine erupts. It sends a shockwave through the plane and has her tumbling out of the sky. The smoke turns to a dark black. Scott’s thrown against his seat as he reverses direction to avoid the explosion. That smoke can only mean one thing: the fire’s hit the fuel tanks. IT’s a worst case scenario for any pilot.

“We’ve gotta eject!”

“Disengage fuel pumps to line four avids. Try to limp her out!”

Scott watches the cockpit of the F-30 fill with flames at the same time the Whisper emerges from the shadows. His eyes widen in terror for his team.

“Eject, eject, eject!”

“Eject now!” Kronos throws in. The fire is spreading.

“Throw the canopy!”

“Eject, eject!”

“I’ve got smoke,” Scott says. His voice is quiet over the sound of Sparrow’s gasp as his seat launches into open air. “Kronos, we’re gonna cover ‘em.”

He dives down where Dagger Two is rapidly losing altitude. The Whisper foregoes Scott’s F-30 and approaches the ejected pilots like a hungry predator. Sparrow is desperately holding onto his chute lines as he rips his mask off. Scott whips their fighter between the Bereznik aircraft and his two men.

The missile loses sight of the broken plane and latches onto Scott’s instead.

“Fire flares!”

“Flares are out, Preacher! Launching last counter missile.”

Kronos spins around in his seat to ensure the missile is negated. “Out of missile too. We’ve got only 27 rounds of bullets left.”

Scott’s mouth stays shut in a tight line. His eyes track the Whisper screaming through the air in a loop, coming around to target their jet. They can’t just leave the two falling to their demise. But Scott sees no way out.

His choice is made for him as the F-30 lurches into a tailspin.

“What the fuck Kronos?!”

“We’ve been hit! Nothing showed up, new tech that-”

“You better use those 27 shots up real quick!” Scott screams as he attempts to pull them out of their tailspin. It’s hopeless. The right side is burned to ashes, not a single remnant of the wing left. Both engines are a sputtering mess of flames and smoke. It starts filtering back into the cockpit. There’s only so much time before their own canopy fills with the same flames that filled Dagger Two’s.

Kronos falters for purchase on the above striped handles. “I’m ejecting us!”

“You will not!”

“Preacher! We’ve got to bail!”

Scott’s not panicking. Fighter pilots don’t panic. He attempts a maneuver to reverse the polarity of their spin. It only increases the speed. Up above the Whisper aims its nose down for the best angle of machine gun bullet fire.

“Scott!”

“Eject!”

That’s all Kronos needs before he’s releasing the canopy top. The force of the wind knocks Scott’s torso down towards his knees. Kronos ejects first. Scott pulls his cord in between his legs and his head whips back as his body is pulled from the flaming wreckage. With no pilot, the F-30 crashes in a blaze alongside its sister ship.

They were close enough to the ground that the parachuted provide little drag. Scott crashes to the ground and feels the bones in his left ankle grind together. Something snaps. Kronos fares better than he does with landing. His WSO unhooks his parachute gear and runs to Scott’s side to help him.

The Whisper does a flyby. It speeds up and bypasses the pilots. The Berezniki craft fires no more and turns back towards where it came. If Scott wasn’t wearing his helmet, the supersonic blast would have ruptured his ear drums for sure.

“I saw Valentine and Sparrow up ahead. C’mon!”

“Your ankle?”

Scott tries to stand. He hesitated in his first step with his left foot. Pain shoots through his body. But the adrenaline rush masks the worst of it. “Forget about it! Go! Go, go, go, go!”

He signals to Kronos and they take off in a sprint.

“Find us a way outta here Preacherman!”

He radios in to base as they run. The soldiers may be able to triangulate their position if they’re listening in on the frequency. But they won’t get any help staying silent. Either way, Scott and his men are sitting ducks. Calling for reinforcements is their best bet at survival.

“This is Captain Tracy. Scramble standby Dagger Three and Four.”

A pause over the radio. Then static. “Negative Captain Tracy. Enemy is hostile, engaging off target.”

“Send in the A-Tidals. Lucky One is on foxtrot.”

“Negative. Airspace is not under clearance. SAMs are currently engaged. There is no entry.”

“Requiring backup! Dagger One and Two down. Repeat, requiring backup. Dagger One and Two down!”

“Captain Tracy,” the Brigadier General’s voice is cold. Scott didn’t realize he was even in the control room. His word is law and Scott’s scared for what he has to say. “We cannot send aid. Search and rescue will be locked down until threat is neutralized.”

Search and rescue?

Scott swears.

That old bastard knew this was a suicide mission and sent them in anyways. Scott decides to do his own search and rescue, with emphasis on the rescue part.

Sparrow is the first one they find. He’s cut loose from his parachute and running desperately towards them.

“Wrong direction!” Kronos yells. He makes a sharp cutting motion with his hand parallel to his temple as Scott’s hands are tied up with his radio. The look on Sparrow’s face is worthy of Scott’s pity.

“You got Valentine with you?”

“No clue where he’s at!” Sparrow gasps between breaths.

A round of air strike bombs rings out where Scott and Kronos crashed. Falling bombs fill the air with a backdrop of a beautiful blue sky. The trio is just out of blast range. For now.

Running in the direction opposite of Sparrow proves successful. Valentine is on the ground, one hand around his leg. His parachute is tangled up in the evergreen trees above.

“Valentine!”

The man garbled out some words. Scott catches none of them. He removed the lieutenant’s hands from his leg. They’re bloodied. Scott examines his leg and it’s not a promising one. One of the bones of his leg has ripped through the skin. A gash in his flight suit from landing shows the whole gory scene.

Kronos is right by his side. “It’s no good, the bone’s all stuck out. He’s immobile.”

“You didn’t… have to come back for me… Cap’n…” Valentine gets out with grit.

“Yes we did. Don’t be stupid,” Scott retorts. Scott points out the only two living humans nearby. “You two! Get him out of here!”

A gunship roars and the air fills with the thundering of military boots on snow. There’s the harsh shout of Berezniki that carries over the snowy countryside.

“Preacher-”

“Captain-”

“Do not disobey! There should be an access path in the cliffs some two miles from here. Take him and run as fast as you can. Hide if you’ve got to.”

Scott pulls out his gun from the holster and checks that it’s loaded. The bullets glint in the morning sunlight. He cocks it.

“Here.” Kronos pulls out his own gun and hands it to Scott. It’s a gesture that’s well appreciated. The situation becomes a ton of lead weighing down Scott’s mind. He helps Valentine up onto Kronos’s back and adjusts Sparrow’s gear.

“Write to my brothers, wouldja?”

Kronos knocks his helmet with Scott’s. The words Kronos and Preacherman connect. “I will.”

Scott nods. Kronos’s words are a promise.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #pre-international rescue #angst #bereznik #tw: minor violence #tw: swearing #this is 100% just a Top Gun: Maverick fueled manic write through #and very self indulgent #original characters

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Christmas in July: Bonus Day 31

Twelve days of Christmas, twelve days of rescues and all hands are on deck.

This is the official last chapter! Huzzah! I wanted something a bit longer for today and decided to somehow power through drafting 12 different rescues and writing them all out 🥲. A big, big thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, subscribed, or just all around enjoyed reading my Thunderbirds Christmas in July collection. It's been incredibly fun to challenge myself to write a little something everyday and I've loved having you all along for the ride!

AO3 link here!

December 13th. Scott’s woken up like most any other day except for Alan banging on his door. His tired mind panics for only a second before he checks the date on his alarm clock a second time.

December 13th.

The first day of the twelve days of Christmas.

Right, that’s a thing.

Alan eventually breaks into his room. His youngest brother is wearing a hideous off-green sweater with the sleeves ripped off like a muscle shirt. No doubt that was Gordon’s doing when it was once belonged to him.

“C’mon, c’mon! You can’t be sleeping in this close to Christmas!”

“Yes, I can,” Scott grumbles. His voice is muffled by the pillow his face is currently stuffed into.

“I’m going to steal your advent candy.”

Scott waves a hand. It’s probably chocolate again anyways. The soft electronic chime of John’s hologram pings. Alan- with his mouth full of whatever was in the little box- complains to the brother with the next amount of authority.

“Scott’s not waking up! Tell him he has to get up and participate!”

“Don’t you dare side with that little gremlin.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Actually, Scott, you do have to get up. We’ve got a missing hiker in Canada’s Boreal Forest. Normal search and rescue isn’t going to be able to cut it in time with how thick the trees are.”

That wakes Scott up. He rubs at his eyes to clear the sleep from them. Alan moves to finish off his (Scott’s) treat against a wall, leaving the doorway free for Scott to hop out to his loading chute in his pajamas.

“F.A.B.”

. . .

The second day of Christmas brings a rescue with quick needed action to Glasgow. An old office building is in the middle of demolition so a new office building can take its place. Somehow, by some mistake of schedule, two workers find themselves trapped on the roof with no way down and ten minutes to go on the explosive’s timer.

“Well, I don’t suppose even Thunderbird One could make this in time, Parker.”

“I’d say so, M’lady. Lucky we h’are close enough to manage this on h’our h’own?”

“Quite right. Let’s get going.”

Parker steps on the gas as he diverts power to FAB 1’s main jet thrusters. The car slides for a moment on the wet asphalt before taking to the skies. England’s weather has been quite chilly lately and it didn’t surprise Penelope in the least that the rain has turned to sleet.

She sits in the backseat with Sherbert asleep at her heels. Today was going to be such a relaxing day of bad Hallmark Christmas movies and Dove chocolates. But duty calls. Or, more specifically, John. He had been quite relieved to hear her proximity to the situation and promised that all the Tracy’s would join her for a romcom Christmas movie night. Penelope would have gone to the rescue anyways, but who was she to turn down an offer like that?

At least she thought to bring along some chocolates for the flight over. Penelope pops one into her mouth and enjoys the mix of dark chocolate and caramel on her tongue.

“H’approaching the blast zone now, M’lady.”

Penelope peeks out the window overlooking Glasgow. The city is covered in slushy-snow, not quite white but not quite gray. Atop a building stripped down to its bare supports are two men in orange vests.

“I’d say we’ve found the workers. How much time do we have, Parker?”

“Only three minutes before the ‘ole thing comes down.”

“Leave the car running,” she says. Parker nods and approaches the roof. He leaves the car hovering inches above the rooftop. Lady Penelope steps out with one hand holding onto the car door for support in her heels. “Gentlemen!”

“You here for us, lady?”

“I am with International Rescue. If you don’t mind hurrying along, we can give you a ride down out of danger.”

The tension from the men’s shoulders leaves in an instant. They clamor to get into FAB 1, away from the cold and away from certain death. Parker sneers at the dirt they smudge on the white leather. But the men are polite and don’t try any funny business with Lady Penelope. And for that, Parker lets them get away with it just this once.

With the men out of harm’s way and FAB 1 directed back to the Creighton-Ward Manor, Penelope is eager to rejoin her lonely sales executive returning home to small town Vermont for Christmas and a love-at-first-sight man.

. . .

“I can’t believe these guys have a combined IQ of seventeen,” Kayo sasses as she launches Shadow. Once in the air, she hightails a U-turn towards the west. “I was just getting to add little smiley faces to my sandmen.”

“More like ten,” John sighs. “I’ve got them on the other line and they didn’t even bring spare batteries.”

“And they didn’t even bring spare batteries!”

Kayo cruises in Shadow as ocean turns to land beneath her. December 15th means the Northern hemisphere is cold- something she does not want to get involved in. There’s no point in speeding on this rescue when her rescue timeline had enough wriggle room for a full 24-hour delay. “Please tell me it’s at least not snowing.”

“It’s not snowing.”

“Oh, thank God. Small victories.”

“Mind sending me the cave layout again? I’d rather know what I’m getting into than spelunking blind.”

The controls of Thunderbird Shadow tighten under Kayo’s hand as EOS takes over on autopilot. John slides her the schematic of the entire cave, including where the trapped explorers are stuck. It’s not too deep down in, but some of the passes that the three would-be adventurers slipped through are tiny. Alan’s growth spurt leaves Kayo as the most lithe to passage the cave.

There’s little safety risk so long as Kayo plays by the Earth’s rules. Always have two sources of light and backups, keep a rope tied to the entrance, use the TTE communicator to patch in John through Shadow, and most of all, don’t do anything stupid.

Kayo can handle that.

The cave chamber where the explorers are stuck has a few entrances. Two of them are drops down in, meaning climbing back up will be tricky. But the one appears shallow from the hologram so it may be the best bet.

“Over Montauban now. Another five minutes and I’ll be nearing the cave entrance.”

John acknowledges her position and EOS relinquish control back to Kayo as she swipes away the map. She comes upon the mountains of southern France with wide eyes. The cave entrance is plotted to be out amongst a limestone cliff face. She spots the main opening.

“Umm, John? Where’d you say the trailhead was?”

“It should be over the bluff about two miles north of you.”

Kayo shakes her head. “That’s not going to work. I’ve found the cave entrance and it’s in the side of the cliff with a thousand-foot drop. I’m going to land Shadow near the entrance. Is it stable?”

“It’s all karst and limestone. Stay away from the edge and you should be fine.”

Kayo lands Shadow as John suggested and slides on her harness. She loops a three way rope- one end is around Shadow, another end around a solid looking boulder, and the last is around her waist. Kayo tests the amount of slack she gave herself and nods.

With three extra harnesses in hand, she descends down into the cold cave.

. . .

“Isn’t she a beaut?” Gordon sighs dreamily, his head in his hands. “Write it down! December 16th. Seven nests.”

“It’s a bird.”

“A Wedge-tailed Shearwater, thank you very much.”

“It destroyed our sandmen.”

“To lay eggs!”

“There’s a nest on Alan’s sandman’s head.”

Scott comes in with a cheese stick in his mouth like a poor man’s cigar. He claps Kayo on the back as he looks out to the destruction of sand-people. “Circle of life, little sister. We build snowmen, they melt. We build sandmen, they become nesting grounds for sea birds.”

“Wedge-tailed Shearwaters!”

Kayo still flops over on the couch, borrowed binoculars thrown somewhere in the heap of pillows.

“Why don’t you come with me on a rescue to get your mind off such horrible, troubling things,” Scott suggests. He’s only half joking. It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands on this mission.

Gordon doesn’t look away from the newly built nests. His eyes are glued to the set of binoculars. “You need Thunderbird Two as well? I’m surprised John didn’t wake up Virgil or Alan yet.”

“We debriefed already. It’s a group of four researchers studying penguins down in the Antarctic ice shelf. The shelf started calving and they’re stuck. The heat from Two’s thrusters and the massive size alone getting that close may send the researchers falling.”

The aquanaut sticks out a tongue as Kayo is roped into duty without much of a say.

Kayo finds herself snug in One’s jump seat back behind Scott. It’s roomier than Shadow; she actually has room to kick her legs out in front of her when not in the pilot’s chair. Kayo grips onto the handle above her seat as One launches.

“MIDAS system active. Accelerating to Mach 12,” Scott says into the automatic recording system. “You good back there, Kayo?”

“I want to go back and get revenge on those birds. I’ve never been a bird person.”

“I’ll help. They like dive-bombing me when I went on my run this morning.”

Kayo is satisfied that at least one brother holds some sense of dislike towards birds. She sits back and relaxes into her seat, content to watch the water turn to ice beneath the see-through hull.

“You know, this glacier mission sounds like it’ll be in and out no problem. The researchers have a base they want to be taken to which isn’t far,” Kayo starts as the ride grows a bit too silent after being with Gordon all morning.

“And…?”

“And it’s ice! Ice skating!”

“I thought you hated the snow?”

“I mean, I do,” Kayo clarifies. “But ice skating is fun. Didn’t you and John used to go all the time at the pond back behind Grandma’s farmhouse?”

“Yeah, right until Virgil got old enough and wanted to join us. He did once, fell, cried to Mom, and she didn’t let us back,” Scott says with a tone that shows he’s still bitter about it.

“Well then Virgil doesn’t have to know!”

“We don’t have skates.”

“It’s solid ice. I think boots will do quite nicely to slide across it.”

Scott doesn’t know quite what got into his sister. Normally she’s the voice of reason. But who is he to complain about getting to go ice skating on a glacier?

“Mission first. Then hell yes.”

. . .

“Oh, hold up Alan. Virgil, you can go.”

Alan skids on heel from activating his suit up sequence. Virgil cocks an eyebrow before disappearing into his own chute, Thunderbird Two bound. Honestly, Alan’s glad that hideous Christmas sweater is out of sight. Hopefully it gets torn on the automatic dressers. It already has paint on it from where Virgil was painting today- the fifth day of Christmas in his series.

John’s distracted, running a hand through his normally neat hair.

“Shouldn’t I, you know, be getting going?”

“Virgil’s handled plenty of forest fires. This one doesn’t appear to be any different,” John mumbles. “EOS just found a Giramit recycler going haywire.”

“Aren’t those the new space junk recyclers that everyone raved about?”

“Yeah, and this one has eaten five needed satellites in ten minutes. Its detection system must be on overdrive. You’re going to need to fix it before it destroys a craft with people in it.”

“F.A.B.”

Alan settles back down into his black launch chair and as it’s loading down, sets the destination for Three’s cockpit instead of Two. Once in his space suit, John’s voice pops up in his ear.

“Are you okay handling this mission with EOS? I can help, but with Gordon out in the Senkaku Islands and Virgil’s fire…”

“No worries, John. Your child is my child.”

“I am not a child, Alan,” EOS pipes in.

“Eh, potato-potatoe.”

Three launches into space with a mighty roar. Alan’s stomach flip-flops in that vaguely comforting way once he clears the atmosphere and hits 0 G. EOS gives him the run down with a track on the runaway recycler. The mission seems easy enough if not a bit tedious for the shutdown sequence the company ahem… “gave”… EOS.

He directs Three over to the other side of the Earth, right above the southern tip of South America.

“I see some big thing with golden rings sticking out and it’s moving pretty fast. Is that it?”

“Correct. There are two possible targets in the way of the detection system that it is heading towards. Careful not to cross the front otherwise you’d be three,” EOS warns. Her hologram lights twinkle against the starry backdrop.

Alan spots the back paneling hiding the control console. He can’t dock Three to the recycler with the configuration, but he can’t leave it close by either. Its best to leave his ‘Bird out of harms way and EVA over with a hoverboard.

“Alright, opening hatch now.”

Alan takes in a deep breath of his spacesuit air. He pushes off and hooks his magnetic boots to the base of his board. The propulsion is smooth and fast, a new Brains upgrade. Alan reaches the panel in no time. This close to the machine, Alan can see why it’s a problem. The thing is twice the size of Three with grinding rotors that stick out from the front. Luckily, it’s only a matter of unlatching and typing in a ten series code to access the motherboard.

“Woah, this is way less to work with than I planned…” Alan says.

“The shutdown sequence should be easy. It’s a matter of flipping the AT-8 switches off. There’s an automatic reboot sequence that will turn it back on, so disconnecting the detection system wires is your best bet to avoid a repeat of this whole debacle.”

“Sure, sure.”

EOS’s instructions work like a charm. The menacing rumble of the recycler peters out after the three subsequent AT-8 switches are turned off. But there’s still a light flashing. It’s blue rather than red or green- that must be the reboot status. Alan snips the wire before it has the chance to fire back up.”

“Status report, EOS?”

“Well, I don’t detect any signals. The whole thing appears to be offline and using no power.”

Alan whoops a “Mission accomplished” like he’s from a video game. “Time to get back to the Island before Virgil to make peppermint hot chocolate.”

“Why does Virgil need to be absent?”

Alan pouts. “He always steals the marshmallows! Kayo found ones shaped like reindeer and there’s only a handful left.”

“Ah. A true tragedy.”

. . .

“Oh, hold up Alan. Virgil, you can go.”

Alan skids on heel from activating his suit up sequence. Virgil cocks an eyebrow before disappearing into his own chute, Thunderbird Two bound.

Virgil enjoys the slide down to Two as the machine throws on his uniform. He slams the top hatch shut and initiates the pre-launch sequence. Once Two is in the air, Virgil opens his channel with his older brother.

“Talk to me, John.”

“We’ve got a multi-hundred-acre forest fire in south Wyoming that’s spreading out of control of local services. Everything’s pretty wet with snow so I can’t imagine it will take more than a good dousing from the water cannon to places they can’t reach.”

“Any civilians?”

“Everyone was evacuated. The only danger right now is to wildlife. Including a group of late migrating Canadian geese. Or so the report says.” John rubs at his eyes.

“Didn’t one bite you when we were little?”

“Two. And would it really be such a bad thing to lose a couple of geese? They’re the devil incarnate.”

“Don’t tell that to Gordon. He’ll come straight over and adopt one and name it John.”

“Gordon’s already dealing with that old fishing net,” John groans as he thinks about their Fish brother being left to his own devices on this mission. “He’s gotten stuck twice and went out swimming another three times to ‘commune with his family in their natural state’.”

Virgil barks a laugh. No wonder John looks exhausted. Gordon’s been out there for three hours already and he knows John hasn’t been able to catch more than five minutes of silence.

“Oh, and sorry about pulling Alan away. We’ve got a space emergency that needs to be dealt with.”

“What, did Santa crash his sleigh?”

“First of all, Christmas isn’t for a week. Second, Santa is a part of an alien species that travels by teleportation, not ship.”

Oh, John must be real tired if he’s getting this sarcastic. Virgil holds his tongue behind a smile at another quip. “You good handling three missions on your own? I’m sure Scott would jump at the chance to take over on one.”

“He and Kayo need to not be involved right now. For my sanity. I’m still mad that they both thought that ice skating on the glacier rescue was a good idea last night.”

“Hey! You’re not the one that had to carry their sorry asses back to the Island after Scott twisted his ankle and Kayo hit her head. But I give it a day before they’re out again. Speaking of, you should come down until Christmas. I know, duty calls and all that, but you can monitor from home and EOS can keep an eye on the station.”

Virgil’s about to argue with all the reasons that John should come down. He needs gravity to help restore his bone density, Alan has a new game to show him in person, (Virgil doesn’t want to be the one to take care of the hospital twins), how he stashed away those cute reindeer marshmallows in a place Alan won’t find right before leaving. And honestly, Virgil just misses his brother.

“Sure.”

“Man, you must be exhausted to agree that easily.”

John shrugs and Virgil knows it’s true. Back-to-back-to-back-to-back rescues all during the holiday season are not what he would call fun. And at least Virgil gets a break from the callouts if Two isn’t needed. But John is needed in virtually every mission.

The astronaut turns away and mutes himself. He says something incomprehensible with lips moving in an exasperated way. When he returns his attention to Virgil, the engineer can only guess that it was Gordon on the other line.

“Please tell me I’m allowed to smother Gordon with a pillow when I see him.”

“You’re allowed to smother Gordon with a pillow when you see him. As long as it’s a holiday one.”

“Deal.”

. . .

“Mmh… hey John,” Gordon mumbles. He doesn’t open his eyes, too comfortable from his midmorning nap. He’s stretched out on one of the loungers by the pool like a cat basking in the sunlight. “Is it lunch time already?”

“Looks like you’ll be having lunch in Four. I’ve got a mission for you.”

“Lay it on me, John.”

“Luckily, there’s no people involved here. An old fishing trawler net unfolded itself from ocean sediment and is now causing a huge issue for the sea life around the Senkaku Islands. A Japanese patrol boat went out early this morning and called it in. Unless we get another callout, it’ll be best for the environment and about one hundred migrating sea turtles if you get out there.”

Gordon’s once sleepy eyes light up like the Christmas tree inside. “Oh Johnny Boy, this is the best present you could have ever given me!”

“You’re welcome. And-”

“-don’t call you Johnny. Yeah. Yeah.” Gordon waves off John as he shucks off his pajama shirt before heading to his chute. “But sea turtles! And solo ocean environment mission! Best day ever.”

He hits the button to begin the suit up sequence. John’s hologram fades away as he switches into his aquanautics gear. The quick dive into Four’s cold water tank drives any tiredness lingering in Gordon’s body away. Gordon hums to himself as he goes through all checks. With everything in order and Four shooting out of her on-island launch track, Gordon sets his sites for Japan.

The Senkaku Islands are a chain that Gordon is decently familiar with. Back in the day, it was a hotbed for political and resource disputes between China, Japan, and Taiwan. But now the islands are home to a small animal conservatory and outreach post.

Gordon sets Four on autopilot in the calm waters to enjoy a lunch of Celery crunch bars. The trip is going to take a while; Japan isn’t exactly in their backyard. But with the others on downtime and no immediate peril, sailing the seas for a few days will have to do. Gordon pushes the pilots chair back to stretch out his legs. His mind runs through a list of things he could do in the meantime.

Finish his nap.

Take inventory and plan out his meals.

Watch Buddy and Ellie.

Call John.

A smile creeps over his face. That last option is mighty tempting. Gordon taps on his console until it connect with his ginger brother. He’d due down dirt side in a few days but that never stopped Gordon before.

“Heyyy John. Did you know that there’s an octopus that farms bacteria…”

. . .

“I cannot in good conscience bring you two on this mission.”

“Okay then, have a guilty conscience. We’re still coming.”

John really wants to fight Scott on this one. He and Kayo are still supposed to be on bed rest after that ice skating accident. A call came in about an earthquake in a rural farming county with a few farmers trapped in their crumbling homes. John normally has no qualms about going on rescues, but this is definitely a job for multiple hands and his preferred, non-injured brothers are out in Jamaica.

“Virgil cleared you both of concussions?”

Kayo is already strapping herself into one of the two passenger seats in One. “Just a few pulled muscles. He really over exaggerated.”

Scott moves to the pilot’s chair. John grabs his arm and points him in the direction of the spot next to Kayo.

“John, there’s no way you’re flying my ‘Bird.”

“Over exaggerated or not, Virgil was worried about you two. I’m already going to get an earful for bringing you along. I pilot alone or I pilot with you two in the back.”

That earns John a round of grumbles but no more protesting.

The launch is clunky and nowhere near as smooth as Scott would be able to pull off. John hopes it makes Scott and Kayo both rethink coming along. EOS pops up on the holographic display. The two behind John crane their necks to listen in on the debrief.

“The earthquake was registered as a 7.9 as of one minute ago.” EOS’s soft voice updates the trio. “I have done multiple scans of the area and all of the families but three managed to get to safety. There are no deaths reported and the families appear to be in stable locations but trapped amongst rubble.”

“Thanks, EOS. We’ll see to it that they get out safely.”

John waves away EOS’s display. There’s no need to strain One’s engines in a rush to get to the scene.

They arrive in time for the noon sun to blaze its heat down on their backs. Scott rips his helmet off immediately after touching down on the ground. So much for protocol. Kayo drags her hand down on her helmet to pull up the electronic display.

“Scott, there’s a family over that way,” Kayo says. “John, go to the left. I’m picking up life signs buried beneath the old barn you can see in the distance. I’ll search around for the last group.”

John nods at her directions. His own helmet fits snug around his skull. EOS’s voice guides him to the trapped family. It’s a bit of a jaunt over. John knows he’s not so much on the athletic side when it comes to rescues with gravity so he walks to conserve as much energy as possible.

He finds a herd of cattle milling around, as if to watch what happens to the barn and the people inside. John shoos them away. He never did like cows, even when Uncle Ron would send them out to their fields for a wider pasture.

“Can you hear me? I’m with International Rescue,” John calls out in Spanish. He listens for any response from the collapsed building.

“Down here!”

With a closer range, John runs a scan of the area. He finds four life signs huddled together in a low pocket of the barn. It all appears to be made of wood and stones. Not great for support on getting the folks out of danger, but he’d take wood over metal beams any day.

John slithers through the openings he finds. At certain points, he stops to check the integrity of the groaning structure. When his scans show up red, he adds in portable support beams from his baldric to keep the barn from collapsing quite yet. John descends down until his light flashes over a pair of eyes.

“Are any of you injured?”

“Elisa has a broken arm,” the older woman says.

“Alright. That will be best treated up above. Anyone else?”

A chorus of no’s has John sighing in relief. He back crawls out of the space so there’s room for the group to exit.

“I want you to follow me out.”

John checks back. All four people are following his moves exactly. They’re too scared to try and rush. A good thing, too. Rushing adrenaline is never good in a precarious building collapse. A girl moans in pain from the middle of the group.

“Just a little while more. The nice man will get us out safe,” the woman says to a teenager. John doesn’t respond. He spots the sunlit hole where he entered an arm’s length away.

John crawls out first. Each person comes after him. The astronaut helps to guide their bodies out of the hole to avoid scrapes and splinters. When the girl Elisa is ready to pop out, John braces her torso and pulls her out himself. The final person is a man that waves John off to help Elisa. He manages to escape the collapse on his own.

“Why don’t we sit to fix your arm?” John asks. Elisa is ashen in the face. She nods and the older woman by her side helps her to sit. The last thing John wants to deal with is trying to get her back to Two after passing out. Her break is a clean one. John’s scanners pop up that the bone cracked in half in an even line and the bones fragments didn’t separate any. He splints it and offers up some water from his baldric.

As the group takes turns with John’s water, the astronaut calls up the other two. “Thunderbird One, Thunderbird Shadow. How’re we looking?”

“Good here, John. None of mine have injuries. They’re requesting to leave to a friend’s home.”

“And you checked them out?”

“Affirmative. No injuries, visible or otherwise.”

“F.A.B. Let them go.”

Scott signs off, leaving Kayo. “I have one older gentlemen who’s having pain in his hips. The rest are fine.”

“I’ve got a younger girl here with a broken arm. You and Scott stay here, I’ll run them over to the nearest medical center.”

An easy, straightforward rescue for the eighth day before Christmas.

John hopes Virgil’s posse is having as easy of a time as they are.

. . .

Virgil and the accrued help are not having as easy of a time.

“Oh my God, that lady didn’t have on any pants!”

“Allie, shh!”

Virgil turns his communications to direct only. Beside him, The Mechanic chuckles at the antics of the youngest two. It’s a low sound that Virgil hasn’t heard often.

“Those two don’t get off the Island much, do they?”

“Nope. Internal thermocoupler.” The Mechanic passes over the device. Virgil scoots further up on his back to reach the port. “To be fair, I would have the same reaction.”

“I am just thankful you didn’t make me do crowd control. Dynamic fuse,0.22 millimeter.”

Virgil holds up the half installed thermocouple with one hand and digs around his baldric with the other. His fingers brush the fuse. It’s a delicate act passing over the glass fuse to The Mechanic’s waiting hand without breaking it.

“My question is: who thought that building a night club, strip club, whatever on the same island as a nuclear reactor would be a good plan?”

“Someone who doesn’t know how nuclear reactors work.”

The Mechanic isn’t wrong. Virgil finishes up with the repairs on his side of the coolant engine. The Mechanic continues to tinker. Only his feet stick out into the abandoned control room. Virgil taps away on his wrist controls. Radiation levels are dropping and their hazard suits aren’t close to their limit. But the core is hovering at the high end of critical. Waiting any longer to restore the plant’s shut down systems risks having a supercritical reaction on their hands.

“Virgil,” Alan says. His voice cuts through his mute function. “Um, we’ve got a situation. No one here has like… any clothes.”

“Ha! This reminds me of Olympics.” Gordon’s voice is tinny as it drifts through Alan’s speakers.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

“Try dropping the shut down valve levers by two inches. I need to see if this is the problem,” The Mechanic says. His voice is muffled by the machine.

“This reminds me of the Olympics.”

Virgil does as Alan chimes in. “First off, because I’m uncomfy. I don’t think I like girls anymore.”

“Thanks for sharing with the class, Alan.”

“Second, I’m picking up a spike of radiation. EOS is tracking a change in the wind pattern and it’s bringing everything right over here.”

“Is it Beta?”

“This definitely reminds me of the Olympics.”

“Yup!”

One problem solved as The Mechanic gives Virgil a stoic thumbs up.

“Okay. I don’t love this idea at all mind you, but load everyone up into Two. Those that don’t fit, give them shock blankets, safety blankets, anything they can wrap their skin in. Take the first load of people to the main island and come back for the second. We’re still a ways out from pulling the core to subcriticality.”

“F.A.B. I guess.”

The Mechanic takes lead of guiding himself and Virgil through the maze of reactors. Virgil’s running stats through EOS and distracted enough that he runs face first into The Mechanic’s back. The man doesn’t acknowledge the blunder, he only points to the door labelled 73.

“This is the meltdown center. Are suits are still good?”

“We’re at 57% integrity. As long as this doesn’t go horribly, horribly wrong, we’re in the clear.”

The Mechanic nods. He counts to three and opens the door to the other side.

. . .

“So, I heard you had quite the fun night?”

Gordon cackles like a madman. “You should have seen Alan! Classic!”

“I had nightmares about it last night,” Alan says. Kayo peeks over the edge of the ouch to find where he’s been hiding. His legs are sprawled out on the backrest of the couch while his head dangles upside down.

“Dancing isn’t your thing, huh?”

“I don’t think Alan even knows how to dance,” John adds from his perch at Dad’s desk. His deftly flicking through ha holographic report from EOS.

“Uh, excuse you Mr. I Can’t Even Walk On My Own Two Feet. I’m better than you I bet,” Alan snaps back.

“Didn’t you take dancing classes in college?” Kayo asks.

John claps his hands together in a beat of finality as his wrist communicator beeps. “Well, looks like I have to go on a rescue. See you three later.”

“Liar!”

John lets his siblings feel superior in the idea that he’s retreating form the conversation. In reality, he really does have to go on a mission. He winds his way downstairs to the space elevator. His spacesuit is tight an familiar in comparison to his loose dirt side clothes.

“What do we have, EOS?”

The question is rhetorical. John’s already pulling up the data of the distress call as his AI connects to the space elevator computer system.

“The new Greening Space Villa sent out an EVA tour group that has disconnected from the tethers due to space debris.”

John rubs at the crease between his eyes. “This is why we shouldn’t let civilians do whatever they want in space. Can you track the group’s location.”

“Of course, John,” EOS responds. Her voice is proud and sassy. “I already have.”

“Physical status of everyone?”

“All appear of positive health. No injuries. They are simply drifting.”

“And need to be rounded up. I got it.”

The space elevator shutters as it docks with Thunderbird 5. John slips into the loading dock before making a sharp turn into his exosuit launch chute. His slides on his helmet before gripping the metal rungs to allow the suit to attach to his body. The suit automatically ramps up in acceleration to launch John out of Five.

The Villa is a hop, skip, and short spacewalk away from Five. John spots the reflective silver of their suits almost immediately. EOS patches him into their frequency.

“Hi there, this is International Rescue. It seems you guys are in need of a bit of assistance.”

Every person’s head snaps to look at John. The relief is palpable behind their heavy eye shadow and five o’clock whiskey shadows.

“Yes! Oh thank God! I almost missed my tennis match with Lord Bradford.”

“Ooh, and a handsome young man they sent.”

“Mind bringing us there now? I do have a gala to attend.”

John uses his hands as a social shield when a rush of socialites all come to him with their problems. He’s thrust back to that day of the gala with Penelope and how horrible that had been. Luckily, the instructor is there to save him from the panic of conversations. She’s a gruff old woman that certainly isn’t paid enough to be taking these folks out on space EVAs.

“If you’ve got the acceleration, I’ve got the tethers,” she says. The instructor pulls a long interlocking tether out of her suit pocket. “It ain’t much, but it’ll save you a few trips.”

“Uh, sure.”

John takes the rope in hand. It’s similar to the cables older astronauts used before magnetic boots could adhere to the sides of satellites. He gives it a few test tugs. Nothing seems to be fragile or in risk of snapping. John nods his thanks to the instructor. One woman much too old to be space rated latches onto John’s arm.

“Well I’ll be! This hunk is looking to tie us right up.”

“Here here!”

“I must ask ma’am,” John pauses to clear his throat. “Are you drunk.”

“As the day is long, I am.”

Great. Now it’s a rescue and business affairs mission. John switches his mic over so only EOS can hear him. She’ll look into revoking the entire Villas space operations permits. With more thing to worry about, John looks to finish this mission with record time.

He grabs a hold of one of the men who had been less rowdy than the women. John hooks the tether to his suit first before floating to another waiting in the back of the group. It’s a pattern of the louder drunks that could cause issues if they interfere with his flight in between the folks who look to be out here by pure bad luck. John stops at the instructor last.

“I’ll tie you to the back. Keep me updated if anything is looking funny.”

“Sounds good to me.”

The group is secured. John gives an experimental boost of propulsion. Everyone ‘whoa’s!’ into their helmet mics; and the most important part, no one flies off.

John aims himself for the villa and takes off.

. . .

The eleventh day of Christmas.

Virgil can’t believe one of them isn’t hurt by this point.

It’s almost inevitable, especially around Christmas. Winter in the Northern hemisphere means widespread snow and a greater likelihood of encountering the blistering cold and ice. Virgil honestly can’t remember the last year someone wasn’t in the infirmary long term. Kayo and Scott don’t count as that was their own doing- not a mission’s.

The holocom beeps with an incoming call. John’s quick turnaround mission not the villa and back down left him drained vertigo ridden. Virgil can’t blame him.

Gordon beats him to the answer button and patches the line through.

“International Rescue, Gordon speaking. How may we be of assistance today?”

Virgil rolls his eyes. The Fish gets a kick out of using a customer service voice when the call is voice only. Virgil grabs the last mug of coffee from the pot and settles in on the lounge couch as Gordon handles the details. Brains joins them as the initial panic of the caller settles once he realizes he’s speaking to International Rescue agents. It’s a heavily accented man speaking English to the best of his abilities.

“We’ve got trucks of anhydrous ammonia tankers that were coming. The ice caused one crash and others followed. We have little amount of time before the wind blows it to town.”

“Anhydrous ammonia?” Gordon asks.

“Mmh. Dangerous to breathe in.”

Virgil traces where the call is from. Mykolaiv, Ukraine. The dots connect in his head. “Makes sense. You’re using it for crops and farming?”

“Yes. We are moving it to store. Safer than pipelines.”

“We’ll be out there shortly. If anything gets worse, don’t hesitate to contact us.” Gordon disconnects the call.

Brains is tapping on his chin, deep in thought. “W-wait, Virgil!”

Virgil has to do a sidestep to avoid triggering his chute. “What?”

“I’ve been working on a n-new aerosol collection system. It’ll b-be useful. I don’t how long your f-filtrations can work against the am-ammonia.” Brains runs down to his lab. Virgil shakes his head at the other engineer’s antics.

“F.A.B. Brains.”

. . .

“And where did you say this rescue was?”

Alan wants to be sure he heard correctly. There’s no way he missed it.

“At the Sightman concert in Tokyo.”

“You mean… the one at the Dome? The one with 75,000 fans? The one that even I couldn’t get a ticket for? And you wouldn’t let me go ‘cause it’s Christmas Eve?”

Scott bites the inside of his cheek. “Yes. That one.”

“Oh my God!!”

Kayo walks into the scene with the rest of the three Tracy boys hot on her tail. “He does realize this is a serious rescue, right?”

John flicks through the statistics and his face darkens. “And 75,000 sold out seats means 75,000 people in the way of an incoming tsunami?”

“Alan!”

“This is like a Christmas present…” the youngest mumbles. But he settles down all the same for Virgil to grip at his shoulders and stare at him eye level.

“This is a job. We are helping people, not listening to death metal. Okay?”

“Can I be the one to help Kimo Miyakani?”

“Sure, if you can get suited up and in Two before he and his drums get caught in a panicking horde fighting their way to safety,” Kayo deadpans. She sits in the black leather seat next to Alan’s. Alan flings himself in the seat and triggers the chute.

His whooping can be heard even after the floor seals.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #kayo kyrano #lady penelope #parker #the mechanic #brains #I tried to include most everyone #Grandma Tracy slipped away from me :(#christmas #christmas in july #now to take a year long writing break

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

Text

Christmas in July: Bonus Day 30

This was inspired by a comment from @tikatu on the original Chapter 9 about Kayo meeting Sara which spiraled a bit out of control because I love Kayo. Like... so so much it’s ridiculous. She’s tricky for me to write since I never quite seem to get her personality right for what I like but I hope y’all enjoy today’s bonus!

TW: minor violence and swearing

AO3 link here!

“Damn, this poor town. Back-to-back rescues,” Kayo says as she flips through the current mission log. Thunderbird hits a patch of rough air and she jostles in her seat. “First a sinkhole, now this. And during Christmas too!”

Scott peers back at her. His eyes are as tiredly bloodshot as hers. “That’s North Dakota for you.”

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever been.”

“Not once?”

Kayo shakes her head. “We went to Wyoming a couple of times when we were little.”

“Out to that old cabin, that’s right!” Scott snaps his fingers at the memory. It wasn’t soon after the Kyranos started coming around more often and Kayo would spend long chunks of time with them. Jeff bought this old dingy cabin way back in the mountain foothills. “But really? Not even once?”

“Nope.”

“What about South Dakota?”

“I had a mine collapse out in the Black Hills area. Two older guys that found it on their property and wanted to go exploring.”

The conversation peters out as they approach the danger zone. The sun is shining down on the wreckage of a steam engine spilling its cargo out. Unfortunate in and of itself, but the minorly toxic liquid is seeping straight into the edge of town and people’s homes. Kayo isn’t quite sure what John expects them to do in terms of helping, but she’s never one to back down from a challenge.

Scott lands Thunderbird One on higher ground. He joins her in One’s hull, pulling on the extra chemical protection suits. Once comfortable, Scott pops open the hath. A gust of cold air fills the cabin. Scott jumps out first and shocks the both of them when he lands waist deep in snow.

“Damn! We need Virgil out here with that flamethrower!”

“Why does everything have to be so cold in Northern winters?”

“Wait, don’t tell me… John’s given me the lecture on it before,” Scott says as he squints his eyes while thinking. He puts on his best deadpan, Eye in the Sky voice. “The Northern hemisphere has less uncovered land mass than in the South. Something, something albedo. Something, something water currents.”

Kayo whacks him on the arm. But she’s laughing into her helmet all the same. Lucky for them, John’s asleep and not hearing any of their conversation.

They trudge on through the snow. Kayo swears she can feel the cold seep through her suit despite knowing it’s all mental. The edge of town comes into view around a ridge, as does the twisted metal of the train wreck. There’s no fire to put out as the train’s safety systems did their job in that sense. Kayo stays back to survey the damage and make a note of what houses look to be in danger from the chemicals seeping out.

Scott jogs ahead when he spots a crew of cleanup specialists. He stands out in his blaze orange safety suit against the white snow and Carhartt jackets of the crew. Kayo will gladly let him deal with getting the low down of the situation. She’s much too tired after being awoken at her 4AM to deal with folks, even if they are trying to help.

“Thunderbird S, we’re heading out to, uh, Aspen Ridge. It’s a new development sort of thing and they’ve got a few folks that need assistance.”

“F.A.B., Thunderbird One. Are we doing anything about the spill?”

“Negative. These fellas here have that part figured out. They just needed our help getting everyone out to safety.”

“How far is that?”

Scott pauses as he talks to a short woman. “They said juts up the hill near the church. They’ve got trenches started to be dug to catch the spill but it’s going to pass straight through those people’s homes to get there”

Kayo catches up to Scott and they make their way towards the development. The chemical sludge is higher here. It’s pooled atop the snow and flowed through the houses like a flood. Brains promised that their suits would protect them, but he couldn’t say the same for the citizens without protective gear.

The first houses are filled with worried older folks and a man holding onto his Husky for dear life. Scott calls over Thunderbird and remote carries people in a multi-person harness out to the church. Kayo takes on the role of strapping each person in while Scott focuses on fighting against the wind.

“Ex-cuse me!”

“Oh God, no,” Scott says as his body freezes. Kayo looks to him funny, nudging him to continue climbing up the side of the house.

“What’s up?”

“I said! Excuse me!”

“It’s her.”

Kayo pops her head over the ledge of the roof. Scott is standing off to one side for Kayo to get a good look. It’s a family of four: husband, wife, two kids. A white picket fence deal. Around the family are packed bags of luggage more numerous than Kayo can count. And standing in the front of the herd with arms crossed, hair highlighted, coat puffed, is-

“I am Sara Bluneberg, and I thought I had you fired!”

Scott sighs. “No ma’am. You did not fire me nor am I about to be fired from International Rescue.”

The husband jumps in. Kayo remembers her now from the harrowing tale of Scott actually punching someone on a mission. EOS had a gleeful time scrubbing the internet of any evidence. “Don’t you go punching us again! We’ll have you sued!”

“Please, let’s all cooperate and load you onto One. We’ll get you somewhere safe.”

Sara scoffs. Her kids look utterly embarrassed at her behavior. “We have been waiting hours and if you think I’m about to ride in that rickety thing, you must be stupid in the head!”

Kayo takes pity on her older brother. He’s exhausted and not about to get another tongue lashing from Grandma for using violence. Scott turns off his exterior sound input and focuses on dropping down One’s rescue harnesses. Kayo, however, does not have the same restrictions.

“Listen, lady. You are not the center of this universe. We’ve been helping people get to safety all night and we’d appreciate your cooperation.”

“How dare you! We have kids present! Watch your damn mouth.”

“So what?” Kayo asks. She smirks, getting right up in Tim’s face. “It’s not like I swore or anything.”

“You-you!” Tim sputters.

One’s harnesses drop in the midst of the crowd. Scott signs to Kayo something short and sweet about keeping his sound off. She takes over directing the family.

“Now then, who’s first? Kids together or a parent with each?”

“Well first, you can make sure our things get into that rocket ship. We have a real estate business, you know!”

“I know.” Kayo does. The conversation with Scott fills in her mind and she remembers the insistent nature of declaring how important real estate agents are. “But we aren’t taking your things. They’ll be safe away from the chemical spill up here. We only care about people.”

“Mama, I’ll go first with Dad,” the little boy suggests. She smacks away his hand on her coat.

“Oh, no, no! We will not be going through this again.”

“Ma’am, I don’t think you should get much closer.” Kayo’s words a warning, but she intends the woman takes them as a challenge. And oh boy, is she satisfied.

“Is that a threat? Are you threatening me? Tim, hold my sunglasses,” Sara snaps as she rips the offending accessory off her face. “Listen here you bitch-”

Kayo snags the wagging finger in her face and uses it as a guide to slip her left-hand down Sara’s right. She braces her thumb across the back of the woman’s hand and grabs her wrist. Using an old aikido move she hasn’t had to break out in quite some while, Kayo forces Sara to her knees with minimal force. The woman yelps; her husband tries to come to her rescue but Kayo holds him off with a finger wagging in the air. It’s easy to drag Sara through the roof’s snow and lock her into place in the harness. “Looks like we have our first volunteer!” She sends a goofy smile to the two little kids with the unfortunate families.

With the fake pretense of tightening a strap around Sara’s shoulder, Kayo leans in close to the woman’s ear.

“We have the power to erase you from this Earth. Be thankful we are using our power to rescue your sad, pathetic life. Your family has patronized mine and I don’t take kindly to that. I am not a bitch, Sara Bluneberg of Bluneberg Real Estate.”

Oh, Kayo is so ready for her last line. A finishing blow, something straight out of the cheesy action movies. And Sara’s wide eyes and tightly drawn mouth fits the scene.

“I am the bitch.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #kayo kyrano #christmas #christmas in july #tw: minor violence #tw: violence #tw: swearing

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

Text

Christmas in July: Bonus Day 29

Another extra that goes along with Chapter 7. It’s more Christmas cookie recipes with a little drabble at the beginning. Hope you enjoy!

Alan arrives home from the mission sweaty but in high spirits. John’s stuck at Dad’s desk, finishing up formalities with the director. The smell of cooling cookies draws him back into the kitchen. He finds more than he remembers he and John making out on the counter. Odd. They look too nice to be Grandma’s or Scott’s handiwork which is promising.

He picks up one that looks to have chunks of some chocolate candy mixed in. One bite later and Alan’s spitting it out into the trash. Who thinks mint and chocolate are a good idea for a cookie?

“Alan Shepard!”

Kayo’s staring down at him from the balcony railings.

“I didn’t do it!”

“I literally watched you eat my cookies and spit it back out. It’s not that bad, yeah?”

“Maybe for a toothpaste cookie, it’s not.”

She hops down the stairs and joins her brother in the kitchen. Kayo makes a point to take a bite of one of the cookies and smile. “At least I don’t have to worry about you eating these then.”

“You want to make some more?” Alan asks. He taps the cover of Mom’s cookbook.

“Why not?”

Puppy Chow:

Ingredients:

9C Crispix or other rice square cereal

1/2C marshmallow creme or peanut butter

1/4C butter

1tsp vanilla

1C semi-sweet chocolate chips

2C powdered sugar

Instructions:

Melt chocolate chips, marshmallow creme (or peanut butter), and butter in microwave until melted and smooth. Pour over cereal in a large bowl and fold until evenly coated, being careful not to crush the chips. Put chocolate coated cereal in a paper bag while still warm and wet. Add in the powdered sugar and shake until cereal pieces are a bright wet and the chocolate coating cannot be seen. If necessary, add in more powdered sugar.

Icebox Oatmeal Cookies:

Ingredients:

1C brown sugar

1C white sugar

1C shortening

1tsp vanilla

1tsp baking soda

2 eggs

1 1/2C flour

3C oatmeal

Instructions:

Cream together sugars and shortening. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Add flour. Fold in oatmeal. Roll into log and wrap in saran wrap; chill overnight. Bake at 375F for 12-14 minutes or until golden brown.

Gingersnaps:

Ingredients:

3/4C shortening

1C sugar

1/4C molasses (light is preferred)

1 egg

2C flour

1/4tsp salt

2tsp baking soda

1tsp cinnamon

1tsp cloves

1tsp ginger

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350F. Cream together shortening and sugar. Beat egg in a separate bowl before adding along with molasses. Beat well. Sift together dry ingredients and slowly add to mixture. Roll into small balls. Coat in plain white sugar before placing on baking sheet. Bake for 7 minutes.

Andes Mint Cookies:

Ingredients:

1/2C salter butter, softened

3/4C brown sugar

1/2C white sugar

1tsp baking soda

1tsp baking powder

2tsp vanilla

2 eggs

10 ounces Andes Crème de Menthe Baking Chips (there are prepackaged bags or can chop on your own)

2 2/3C sifted flour

Instructions:

Cream together butter, sugars, soda, baking powder, vanilla, and eggs. Stir in Andes chips. Mix in flour last. Chill for approximately 1 hour.

Preheat oven to 350F. Using a small cookie scoop (about 1 ounce), form dough ball and slightly flatten onto baking sheet. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes. Cool on pans for ~2 minutes before removing.

Lemon Cookies:

Ingredients:

1 box lemon cake mix (preferably with pudding in the powder mix)

1 container (8 ounces) Cool Whip, thawed

1 egg

1/2C powdered sugar

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Combine cake mix and egg. Fold in thawed Cool Whip until combined. Dough is thick and extremely sticky. Dollup about 1 1/2T worth of dough into bowl with powdered sugar. Roll until completely coated. Place dough onto cookie sheet about 2” apart. Bake for 10-12 minutes.

New Twist Chocolate Chip Bars:

Ingredients:

Bar:

1C shortening

1/2C white sugar

1/2C brown sugar

1/4tsp baking soda

1T warm water

1tsp vanilla

2 egg yolks

2C flour

1C semi-sweet chocolate chips

Meringue:

2 egg whites

1C brown sugar

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 325F. Cream together sugars and shortening. Combine the soda and warm water. Once mixed, add to the sugar mixture. Beat in the eggs and vanilla. Once thoroughly combined, stir in the flour. Pat dough down into a 9x13” pan that has been greased and floured. Sprinkle chocolate chips on top and lightly press down into the dough.

For the meringue, beat two egg whites into stiff peaks. Gradually add in 1C brown sugar until fully incorporated. Cover the dough with the meringue and smooth out. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes.

Pineapple Pinwheels:

Ingredients:

Dough:

1C butter

1 package (8 ounces) cream cheese, softened

2C flour

Filling:

3/4C white sugar

4 1/2tsp flour

1 can (8 ounces) crushed pineapple, drained

Instructions:

Cream together cream cheese and butter. Add flour and mix well. Cover dough and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, but not overnight.

For the filling, combine sugar, flour, and pineapple in a saucepan. Cook over low heat with frequent stirring until thickened and hot. Cover filling and refrigerate until fully cooled.

Once ready to form pinwheels, remove dough from fridge and divide in half. On a lightly floured surface, roll out to a 1/8” thickness. Cut into 3x3” squares using either a knife or a pastry wheel. To form the star shape, cut into he center from the corner about 1 ¼”. Do NOT cut all the way to the center. Place 1/4tsp of the pineapple filling into the center of each cookie. Fold every other point towards the center until a pinwheel shape is achieved. Overlap the corners in the middle of the cookie, pressing lightly to seal. If dough is dry, a dab of water may be needed to seal the dough. I suggest looking up “Finnish Christmas star cookies” to get a reference for the cutting method and shape.

Bake at 375F for 8 to 10 minutes. Cool on wire racks.

M&M-chip Cookies:

Ingredients:

1C butter, softened

1/2C white sugar

1/2C brown sugar

1 egg

1tsp vanilla

2C flour

1/2tsp baking soda

1/8tsp salt

1 package (12 ounces) baking M&M’s

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350F. Cream together butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Beat in egg and vanilla. In a separate bowl, combine flour, salt, and baking soda. Add dry ingredients to wet mixture. Add in M&M’s directly as the electric mixer is running so a few get crushed and spread evenly out. Add to cookie sheets and bake for 10 to 13 minutes. Cool on wire racks.

Top-of-the-Stove Cookies:

Ingredients:

2C sugar

1/2C milk

1/2C butter

1/4C cocoa powder

1tsp vanilla

3C quick oatmeal

1/2C coconut

Salt to taste

Instructions:

Cook sugar, milk, butter, salt, and cocoa for two minutes in a saucepan. Remove from heat. Add oatmeal, vanilla, and coconut. Drop a spoonful (around 1T) onto waxed paper to cool. Hardens quickly and is a chunky consistency, so do not fret about appearance.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #kayo kyrano #christmas #christmas in july #christmas cookies #cookie recipe #recipes

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

Text

Christmas in July: Bonus Day 28

Thank you to the lovely @drileyf for the idea of Scott reading the letters the brothers sent! This is a piece to accompany piece Chapter 14 with the brothers writing letters to Scott away in the Air Force. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 link here!

“Hey Tracy, catch.”

Scott opens his eyes in time to see an object flying towards his body. It hits him square in the chest with a smack. He picks it up and twirls it around in his hands. Roberts ducks out of the bunk room continues on to pass out gifts from his mail sack like he’s Santa Claus arriving two weeks too late.

“Ooh, letters from a honey?”

“Come off it, Johnson! We all know women are scared of Tracy here,” Sven teases. His buddies clamor around Scott on his bed in their matching black shirts and olive-green cargo pants.

“Only the pretty ones.”

“You’re just saying that from experience,” Scott fires back. He rolls his eyes at his friends’ antics. They try and try to get a rise out of him, but he knows they’ll never succeed. They’d need to take pointers from John for that. Scott flips over the bundle of letters and slides off the rubber band. All of the letters are addressed to “Scott Tracy” in varying handwriting with a Kansas return address. Scott grins as he flips through, accounting for each brother.

“So, who’re they from then?”

“My brothers back home.”

Sven and Danny coo like Scott is a little dog. But they quiet down after a minute. Sven throws an arm around Scott’s shoulder as he tears into the earliest postmarked letter. He stretches out his spitshined boots out in front of him. “Wanna read ‘em out loud?”

“Hey, this is John. It’s almost Christmas in a month. Virgil and Alan have found the stash of Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving. It’s an absolute shitshow of glittery ornaments and candy canes here. Man, I don’t think I’ve sent a handwritten letter since I was a kid. Sorry for not writing before now. My final studying is going fine, and I toured Stanford and Harvard for a visit day. That’s all I’ve got, I guess. Oh and Gordon signed me up for helping at the elementary Christmas concert because apparently, I don’t have enough Christmas spirit. Whatever that means. Ho ho ho.”

“Damn! You’ve got smarty pants Johnny over here at Ivy Leagues and you’re stuck as a military meathead,” Danny says with a whistle. “Not like you’ve got to live up to your little brother or anything.”

“Hey now, I’m technically enrolled in Yale. I’ve got the course load to prove it!” Scott retorts. In another three years he’ll have prestigious degree and be a lieutenant. He rereads John’s letter and smiles. Typical Gordon to rope in John into something he desperately does not want to do. He tucks the letter beneath his thigh on the mattress and moves to the next one.

Scott doesn’t have to read any of the words to know it’s from Gordon. What other brother would write in multicolored glitter markers and have an exclamation point after each and every sentence?

“Hi Scooter!! Dad said to write you because you might be lonely. I think he thinks I’m lonely. I’m not though, I’ve got lots of friends in swimming! This is my first Christmas that you won’t help put up lights. Don’t tell Dad but he might break his back. Virge will help. We baked a few cookies but it’s not cookie day and they’re yummy! I should send you one from the recipe I came up with sometime. I’ve heard they’re very good form everybody! Which base are you at? Johnny said he was going to send this letter for me with his. I don’t know what else to talk about over letter! That one clothes store to us hung up all these pretty candy canes in the window and Alan copied it here. I love you!”

None of the letters are addressed from Dad, but it sounds like he’s around for the holidays this year. That’s something, at least. Especially if he’s forcing Gordon to write to him a letter that takes more than five minutes. It brings a fuzzy feeling to his chest that bubbles out as a smile.

Danny taps the paper where Gordon signed his name. “Cute kid.”

Scott shakes his head hard enough for his dog tags to clink together. “Wait ‘til you meet him. You’ll change your mind then.”

“Oh, are they coming to the passing out parade?”

“Yup. They couldn’t make it to the basic graduation since they all came down with a stomach bug,” Scott says. He shudders at the thought of being home while all four of his brothers were ill with that. It was the one time he was glad to be in basic. “I don’t think I’ve got much of a choice.”

“For them coming?”

“For assignment. Commander Hughes is insistent I come with him out to Akvar for my first tour,” Scott responds. His bunkmates shudder at the mention of Hughes. His name is well known throughout the cadets and Scott was (un)lucky enough to become his star pupil.

“Rough, buddy. I’d lick dirt before having Commander Hughes as my commander.”

“Where’re you headed?”

“An outpost of Bereznik,” Danny responds. “Me and Sven both. They’ve got a few rumblings starting and USAF wants to establish a presence.”

“Fun times.”

Scott pops open the next letter sealed with space stickers. It’s Virgil’s handwriting but he sees it’s signed in big, bulky letters only a kindergartener could manage.

“John said that you are busy and don’t have lots of time. That’s okay cause I love you anyways! When you get home, we can play space explorer. John’s not as fun as you with it. It’s okay you can’t come home for Christmas. I’ll save you cookies and presents and a stocking in my room.”

They all laugh like it’s something funnier than a little kid excited to be talking to his big brother. Scott adds it to the pile of letters under his leg. Virgil follows next with a very brief letter before going back to John and the others. Christmas is lonely on base, but Scot has his buddies and proof that his brothers are thinking about him. Maybe it’s not all bad.

Sven and Danny nudge his shoulders, point out how Gordon’s going to be their favorite little brother if only from the mischievous nature, listen to Scott as he reads each one aloud. At some point, Loren joins the trio on his own bunk. He’s a bit older than the other cadets but a friendly personality amongst the rough and tumble. Scott nods to him. He closes his eyes and listens in. No one comments on the few times Scott’s voice catches of the way his eyes water. No one laughs because it’s never funny when a soldier cries.

Scott finishes with the final letter, John’s letter, and a quiet voice.

“Guess who didn’t get caught yesterday for Christmas Eve dinner. I miss having you have my back though- Gordon is pricey. Half my chocolates! You would have helped me for free, I know.”

It’s all of their first times being away from home for Christmas. They’ve got little brothers and little sisters, nieces and nephews, parents and older siblings all waiting for them like Scott’s brothers are waiting for him. Scott can’t help but to imagine what this Christmas would have been like back at home with everyone with John’s story.

“…Hope you have a Merry Christmas and they let you have some time off to come home soon. Alan has been guarding your presents from the other cousins like a Rottweiler. We all love you.”

Danny’s the first to speak. He thumbs the pile of letters sticking out. “You’ve got a good few brothers, Tracy.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Scott says.

Commander Cory’s voice echoes from the center of the bunk houses, loud enough to hear through the shut door. “Cadets! Get off your asses and out to the shotting range!”

He pulls out the stack and replaces the rubber band. The four men stretch as they stand to follow orders. Scott pulls on his uniform top. Before buttoning it up to his collarbone, Scott slips all the letters into the interior pocket.

Scott snags his issued rifle from the rack on the way out.

He gets back to work with the letters from home driving him on.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #random OC's to accompany Scott #christmas in july #christmas

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Christmas in July: Bonus Day 27

Today brings a little chapter bonus scene! I wanted to do something with Penny early on but just never quite got the chance to fit it in like I wanted

AO3 link here!

“Parker?”

Penelope waits for a response. She lifts her finger off of the wall communicator. If Parker is within the confines of the Creighton-Ward mansion walls, surely he would have heard her. Parker’s footsteps are soft outside the sitting room’s door. He cracks the door open to look in.

“Yes M’lady?”

“Come and take a rest, Parker,” she says. Penelope gestures to the empty plush chair across from her.

“I’d love to, My’lady, but I’ve been working h’on something requiring my attention. I do apologize.”

“Quite right, then.”

She waves Parker back to his duties.

School had let out last week, but no one had come to visit the mansion. Not even her friends. Not that Penelope blames them, being sixteen and going to a friend’s place for Christmas rather than celebrating with the family is a bit absurd. She wonders if her father away on a business venture in India thinks the same.

All the help of the mansion had been sent home yesterday minus Parker. The silence is deafened further by the blanket of white on the courtyards.

Penelope stares out the window like it could suddenly come alive and spoil her with company.

Her tea has long grown cold. It’s only half finished. Penelope can’t bring herself to stomach the cooled liquid. She pulls her eyes away from the scene outside. The inside of the mansion is grand beyond belief. There are no shortages of holiday decorations spread through the mansion lest a visitor drop by. Penelope herself decorated the foyer’s tree with blown glass ornaments and the finest ceramics.

The only place not decorated is… well… Penelope’s room.

What reason does she have to put a reminder of her loneliness during the holiday meant to encompass family?

A knock at the door not but an hour later signals Parker’s presence. “M’lady, would you care to come to dinner? It’s a bit later than normal. I do h‘apologize.”

“Sure.”

Parker cocks his head. Penelope’s attention is elsewhere in the yellow lights casting shadows on the white snow. “Is everything all right, M’lady?”

Penelope shakes her head. She plasters a smile onto her face. “Of course it is! What a daft question to ask on Christmas Eve. Now, dinner?”

She steps into the hallway with all the grace and composure needed to hide her sour mood. Parker doesn’t comment on it beyond the first comment. He never does. He walks in front of her with his hands behind his back as if strolling along the boardwalk. Her father would reprimand her for letting Parker take charge- she is the lady of the house, after all- but what’s the point?

Parker walks through the labyrinth of halls before arriving on the first floor. But rather than turn into the dining room, he passes it by all together.

“Oh! I do believe…”

“Trust me, M’lady.”

That she can do. Penelope follows a few paces behind. A quick peek into the dining hall shows that nothing is set out and she can smell no food. Strange.

Parker stops at a painting of lilac trees shading a fence before pressing on a small portion of the frame. It clicks in and the entire painting slides away, revealing a set of stairs leading downwards.

“Parker, where are you taking me?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been down here before?”

“I cannot say I even knew it existed.”

The stairs are hallway are well kept. Someone must sweep regularly as dust and dirt are nowhere to be seen. Penelope sniffs the air in a deep breath. A delicious smell of meat and spices drifts out of the door to their left. Parker opens it and gestures for her to enter first.

It’s the large kitchen where the chefs prepare meals. The small elevator sits in between two counters across from the entrance. But everything is powered off, and the room devoid of food to be seen. Penelope scrunches her brow. Certainly there would be dirty dishes and residual heat from the oven? Parker points her to a swinging door over to the left side of the room.

When she enters, it’s a wonderful sight.

The room is a smaller kitchen with fewer everything but is obviously well loved. And one on bare wall is a scuffed table large enough to fit eight or so bodies comfortably. Two sets of dining ware are set out with dishes filled to the brim of food. A miniature artificial Christmas tree is in the center. All of the ornaments are handmade or old, worn down with years of memories.

“It’s the help’s kitchen and dining room. We get up to some pretty good trouble down here,” Parker says with a fond smile. “Lil’s gone home to her sister so ‘opefully I didn’t ruin h’anything.”

Penelope takes a closer peek at the food. It’s nothing she recognizes from her average meals or outings to restaurants. It looks less professional, less rich in flavors that make a chef brag about their abilities. There’s a roast turkey with potatoes and diced carrots on the side. A few Brussel sprouts blackened a bit darker than her palate prefers is next to sliced, canned cranberry sauce. And an uneven loaf of bread cut down the middle lets out billows of steam.

But the smell, that smell! It wraps Penelope in a sense of warmth.

“It looks lovely!”

Parker pulls out the closet chair with a bit more of a flourish than he normally has. Penelope giggles behind her hand and accepts the seat. He doesn’t sit.

“I do know that dining can be quite lonely if you h’eat by yourself. I can eat down ‘ere with you if you would like, M’lady. The choice is yours.”

She gestures to the empty seat. How right Parker is sometimes. “I would be honored for you to join me, Parker.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #actual could also be #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds tos #the timeline is pretty loose on this one #lady penelope #parker #christmas #christmas in july

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Christmas in July: Bonus Day 26

Here's the first extra, little peek into Lucy’s cookie recipe book! An accompaniment to Chapter 7: Wonderful Christmastime with the cookie baking day.

Literally it's just recipes with a little story drabble before and after to try and tie it in lmao All the recipes here are actual ones that my family will make on our own "cookie baking day" that we distribute out. Quite a few are American Midwest staples that I've grown up with and hopefully you all enjoy as much as I do, others are commonplace. My mentality has always been to excitedly share recipes and never keep them a "family secret" as that's not quite as fun :)

I was a little short on time today and didn't convert any measurements. I'm planning to edit them in sooner than later for metric!

“John! You done yet?”

Alan peeks over his ginger brother’s shoulder to the raw dough sitting on the counter. It had just been pulled out of the fridge and is waiting being scooped onto trays. A warm smell drifts from the oven. Something familiar in a far-off way.

“Just about,” John mumbles as he flips through Lucy’s cookbook. It’s been through a lot. Over one hundred years of recipes and paper barely holding together under Virgil’s saving lamination. He runs his thumb down the worn page before finding what he needs.

He grabs the teaspoon and the jam. John starts filling the dough balls, pressed down enough to hold the sweet raspberry jam. Alan’s more interested in the cookbook, though.

“This is Mom’s, right?”

“Yup.”

“Ooh! Can we make these?” Alan points to a recipe that has ingredients not on the island. John smiles.

“Ask Scott to make a run for you. We’ll do it later this week if we’ve got the downtime.”

Alan nods. He’s happy with that answer. John pulls the still warm chocolate cookies out of the oven and pops the new ones in. Alan sneaks one, burns his fingers without a care, and settles in to flip through the rest of Lucy’s recipes.

Snickerdoodles:

Ingredients:

1C shortening (part butter)

1 1/2C white sugar

2 eggs

2 3/4 C flour

2tsp cream of tartar

1tsp baking soda

1/4tsp salt

2T white sugar (separate from 1 1/2C)

2tsp cinnamon

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 400F. Sift together flour, cream of tartar, soda, and salt. Set aside. Cream shortening and sugar. Once a smooth consistency, add in eggs. Fold in flour mixture. Form into balls the size of walnuts. Roll in cinnamon-sugar mixture until covered on all sides. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes on an ungreased cookie sheet.

Pecan Tassies:

Ingredients:

Tart:

1/2C butter, softened

3 ounces cream cheese, softened

1C flour

Filling:

1 egg

3/4C brown sugar

1T butter, melted

1tsp vanilla

1/2C pecans, coarsely chopped

Instructions:

Cream together butter and cream cheese. Stir in flour. Cover and chill dough for 1 hour.

Preheat oven to 325F. Beat together egg, brown sugar, melted butter, and vanilla for the filling. Stir in pecans. Shape the dough into 1” balls and press into the bottom and up the sides of a mini muffin tin. Fill each with 1 heaping teaspoon of filling. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes. Cool for 5 minutes in pan before moving to a wire rack.

Rolo Cookies:

Ingredients:

2 1/2C flour

3/4C cocoa powder

1tsp baking soda

1C white sugar

1C brown sugar

1C butter, softened

2tsp vanilla

2 eggs

~48 Rolo candies

2T white sugar

4 ounces vanilla almond bark

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 375F. Mix flour, cocoa powder, and soda together in bowl and set aside. Cream butter and sugars together until light and smooth. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Stir dry ingredients into wet mixture and mix well.

Lightly flour hands. Shape around 1T of dough into a ball around 1 Rolo (or other chocolate covered caramel candy). Repeat until dough runs out. Roll balls in the 2T of white sugar and put onto baking sheet. Bake for 7 to 10 minutes, until cookie is set and slightly cracked on top. Cool on baking sheet for 2 minutes before transferring to wire rack. Let cool completely before melting almond bark and drizzling over the top.

Oreo Balls:

Ingredients:

1 package Oreos

1 package (8 ounces) cream cheese, softened

1 package vanilla almond bark

Instructions:

Crush Oreos until fine. A food processor works best, but a blender or placing the cookies into a bag and crushing with a rolling pin works as well. Combine with the cream cheese in a large bowl. Beat together with electric mixer until a smooth consistency with no cream cheese lumps. Roll into balls and freeze for at least two hours.

Melt the almond bark until smooth with no chunks. Dip frozen Oreo balls into almond bark and place on wax paper. For an even coat that does not have pieces of Oreo in the coating, dip a second time into fresh almond bark. Refrigerate.

Cheater’s Fudge:

Ingredients:

3C semi-sweet chocolate chips

1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk

Dash of salt

1 1/2 tsp vanilla

Instructions:

Line an 8” or 9” square pan with aluminum foil. Butter the foil and set aside.

In a large saucepan, melt chocolate chips with sweetened condensed milk and salt. Remove from heat once fully melted and smooth. Stir in vanilla and spread into prepared pan.

Chill for 2 hours or until firm. Turn fudge out onto cutting board and cut into even bite-sized squares. Store covered in refrigerator.

Thumbprint Cookies:

Ingredients:

Dough:

2C + 2T flour

1/4tsp salt

1C unsalted butter, cold and diced into 1T chunks

2/3C white sugar

1/2tsp vanilla

1/2C seedless raspberry jam (or jam of choice, apricot is also amazing with this recipe)

Glaze:

1C powdered sugar

1tsp vanilla

2-4tsp water

Instructions:

Whisk together flour and salt in small bowl and set aside. Cream butter and sugar. Add in vanilla. Mix in flour mixture until it forms a smooth dough (it will be very crumbly and dry when you first start mixing). Shape dough into 1” balls and place on ungreased baking sheet. Make a small indent with thumb in the center of each ball. Fill with 1/2tsp jam. Chill in refrigerator for 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350F. Place chilled cookies directly into oven and bake 14 to 18 minutes. Cool for 2 minutes on sheet before transferring to wire rack.

Whisk together powdered sugar, vanilla, and water to make the glaze. You may vary the amount of water added to get your desired consistency. Once cookies are cooled, drizzle over top.

Crinkle Snowcaps:

Ingredients:

1 1/2C four

1 1/2tsp baking powder

1/4tsp salt

2C semi-sweet chocolate chips

1C white sugar

2T margarine, softened

1 1/2tsp vanilla

2 egg whites

1/4C water

1/2C white sugar (for rolling)

1/2C powdered sugar (for rolling)

Instructions:

In a small bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside. In a small saucepan, melt 1C of chocolate chips over low heat. Stir until smooth and remove from heat. In a large bowl, beat sugar, margarine, and vanilla. Beat in the melted chocolate, followed by the egg whites. Gradually mix in the dry ingredients. Alternate with small amounts of the water. Stir in remaining chocolate chips. Cover and chill around 2 hours.

Preheat oven to 350F. Shape dough into balls the size of walnuts. Coat in a light layer of white sugar before rolling and coating generously in powdered sugar. Bake on greased cookie sheets for 10 to 15 minutes until sides are set but centers are slightly soft. Cool for 2 minutes on the sheet before moving to wire racks.

Spritz Cookies:

Ingredients:

1 1/2 C butter (do NOT substitute)

1 egg

4C sifted cake flour

1tsp baking powder

1C white sugar

2tsp vanilla

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 400F. Cream together butter and sugar. Beat egg in a separate bowl before adding to sugar-butter mixture along with the vanilla. Beat well. Sift together cake flour and baking powder before adding to creamed mixture. Stir until very smooth. Using a cookie press, form cookies. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes.

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies:

Ingredients:

1C shortening, butter flavored

1C white sugar

1C brown sugar

2 eggs

1tsp vanilla

2C flour

1tsp baking soda

1tsp baking powder

Dash of salt

2C quick oats

1C chocolate chips

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350F. Sift together flour, baking powder, soda, and salt. Set aside. Cream shortening and sugar. Once a smooth consistency, add in eggs. Add in flour mixture until one consistency. Stir in oatmeal by hand, and then followed by chocolate chips. Place on cookie sheet and flatten with glass dipped in sugar. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes. Cookies will be crunchy and are not soft.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

“Go ahead, EOS.”

John wipes his hands of dough as EOS pulls up a schematic of Neptune and its moons. “It appears that a solar system probe is going haywire. A crew of two are requesting assistance.”

“Alan?”

“F.A.B.”

Alan bookmarks Lucy’s cookbook. He’s halfway through the cookie recipes, but missions come first. He’ll finish them another day.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #alan tracy #sort of?#I use the characters like the long winded blog posts before recipes ha!#recipes #cookies #cookie recipe #christmas #christmas in july #christmas cookies #I am now craving all of these

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years

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Christmas in July Chapter 25

And we made it! This will be the last "actual" chapter to Christmas in July, but I'll be keeping you entertained until the 31st with extras and little epilogues for chapters 🤗 Much love to everyone! Without any more delay, here is Peace On Earth/Little Drummer Boy!

AO3 link here!

Alan can’t sleep.

It’s like he’s three again- waiting to hear a noise from downstairs that Santa has come with presents and toys. His insomnia doesn’t quite have the same cause being twenty-one. Maybe he’s just used to the constant hum of his college dorm. Living on campus has been a change this past year and Alan isn’t sure why people told him to live with a roommate that’s not one of his brothers. It’s not great.

He rubs at his eyes and sits up. Thoughts of college are not productive for sleep. With Dad at home for a few years and back to operating at 100%, Alan was free to go to the college of his choosing. There no longer was the looming worry of International Rescue lacking an astronaut and all around operative. It’s nice to follow in his three eldest brother’s footsteps with classes and courses and deadlines, but he misses being home.

Alan kicks the blankets off and untangles himself from the blankets and rug on the floor. Before getting up, he crouches down to peer under his bed. Alan’s presents for his family are still hiding underneath. They’re something he threw together in one of his required arts classes; not quite Virgil-level artistry but still something he’s proud of. Deciding that now is as good of time as any to set them under the tree, Alan creeps out of his room and down the hall.

Christmas Eve brought on the sibling present exchange earlier in the evening. Bits of wrapping paper that didn’t make the dustpan linger on the floor. But somehow, Alan still finds that the tree has no shortage of gifts under the branches. Boxes and bags spill out in all directions with sparkling bows. Grandma did always insist that no one be left out Christmas morning and the phrase “I don’t need anything” is just plain ridiculous. Her and Dad must have snuck out after everyone else went to bed to put it all together.

Alan thinks for a moment before turning with his presents in hand. These would fit better in stockings. Which will be a challenge in and of itself to find everyone’s.

Their stockings are hung in any spot with room for a hook. Alan finds his own squished between Gordon’s and Dad’s on his desk with Grandma’s on the edge. He pulls out the three pieces of parchment that belong to Dad, Gordon, and Grandma. The calligraphy is smooth and even with each name written in a cursive font. Few people use paper anymore beyond the arts. Alan had to practice multiple times in class to get the method of using pen and ink just right.

With those three down, Alan moves around the room to the next patch of stockings. Brains and MAX’s stockings are right next to each other with The Mechanic’s. Alan slips their pieces of paper into each. Then Lady Penelope, Parker, Scott, and Virgil’s. John’s is last along with a small one for EOS. Alan delivers the handwritten name in calligraphy to each.

Alan yawns into his hand. His jaunt out to deliver the presents did his insomnia some good. He makes his way back up to his room. Before starting down the hall to his room, Alan stops at the first door. Dad, Grandma, and the guestrooms are down below. Brains and the Mechanic have rooms closer to the labs for their odd hours. Meaning only his brothers and sister sleep on this level. Alan checks the door and, unsurprisingly, finds it unlocked.

The door swings open without little sound. Alan peeks his head in. Scott is sleeping with the AC on full blast under a mound of blankets. Alan can spot the new Christmas pajamas on from Scott’s arm thrown out on top of the covers. The windows are closed, but the half moon provides enough light that Alan can see how peaceful his brother’s face looks. Scott snores with every inhale in. Not even the soundproofing walls designed for rocket launches can contain his brother’s snores from the hallway. But the sound is more comforting than annoying. Alan grew up hearing that sound his entire life. If Scott can be heard snoring, then everything is right in the world. No monsters under the bed or shadows from the closet could haunt his dreams.

Alan closes the door.

He should get to his own bed. But Alan’s room is at the end of the hall. In between here and his door is all of his siblings’ rooms. There’s no harm in checking in on all of the others.

Gordon’s room is next to Scott’s, squished between the pilot’s and Virgil’s. Alan is gentler opening Gordon’s door. His immediate brother is the second lightest sleeper behind John. The door catches on some plant vine that Alan has to kick away before the pot falls from its shelf. It’s all but a jungle in the aquanaut’s room.

When Gordon sleeps, he looks dead. He’s lying facedown into his pillow with only his mouth hanging over the edge to breathe. Opposite to Scott, Gordon’s on top of the blankets with his “12 Days of Christmas” pajama pants on. The top is probably already lost to the void as Gordon is shirtless except for his favorite sleeping back brace.

Alan waits for a visible breath from Gordon before shutting the door and moving to Virgil’s room.

His middlest brother is definitely the worst in the mornings, but hardly ever wakes unless woken. Alan doesn’t try as hard to keep his noise down as he sticks his head into Virgil’s room. He’s on his side, facing towards the door. Virgil’s face is slack and black hair no longer held up in place by gel. A small speaker is playing music inaudible by Alan’s distance on the nightstand. Alan remembers hiding away over Christmas Eve in Virgil’s bed with him because it was the only room Gordon didn’t dare go into on his 5AM escapades to get presents earlier. He shuts the door.

Alan yawns as he reaches for Kayo’s doorknob. But he can’t go to bed until he’s done.

She’s sprawled out like a starfish under her blankets, with only a single foot in a fuzzy sock sticking out. At the sound of the door opening, Kayo twitches and flops over onto her side, but doesn’t wake up. Her entire head is covered except for strands of knotted hair that are spread out across her pillow. Alan has to bite his lip from laughing at how uncoordinated of a sleeper his sister is. Kayo has been graceful with most everything in her life but sleeping.

Alan leaves and braces himself to be as silent as a ghost for the final room.

John is facing the wall away from the door when Alan enters. Unlike the other rooms, his windows are drawn shut to not let any light in. Which, in Alan’s opinion, is a bit ridiculous when he sleeps with a holoprojector on idle in case EOS calls in a rescue overnight. John’s normally pale face is cast in a gentle blue from the holoprojector. His fingers and arms twitch in a meaningless pattern. If he’s twitching that much, then he must be deep in sleep.

Alan turns to shuffle out of John’s room.

“Alan.”

Oh, that’s not good. John sounds wide awake and has such a hard time falling asleep that Alan instantly feels bad.

“Yes?”

“Did you reconfigure Three’s cargo hold?”

“Um, no.”

“We need more room for rations when you head to Xi’an. Gordon should have the key for them.”

For a second, he really thought he had woken John up! Alan breathes a sigh of relief. It’s just the nonsense of sleep talking coming from John. Alan could push it if he wants and get John to have some wacky conversation, but it’s not that type of night.

“Good night, John.”

“Tell Virgil not to take my favorite cup anymore.”

“Merry Christmas, Johnny.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #kayo kyrano #christmas #christmas in july #something nice and sweet for the finale <3

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