#alexthefly

[whumpster-dumpster]

So I'm obscenely late to the whump awakening thing, and I can see that several people have referenced Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in some form, but no mention of the original 1990 movie? I swear that film is a core memory for me and my OG experience of whumperflies.

For those who missed it, Raphael gets ambushed, horribly beaten up and chucked through a ceiling, and what follows is everything I adore in whump: Caretakers having to fight to get his unconscious ass out (with that wonderful line of "Is he...?" "No, he's alive; barely." 🤌) Then the escape with his limp body in tow, an extended period of unconsciousness where no-one really knows what to to besides wait and hope, and everyone's worrying in their own way, and then there's one caretaker who just refuses to leave his side for days, and it's all just so damn delicious!! 🥰🥰🥰

Delicious it surely is! That was an early whump experience for me too, I was pleased that later series would do scenes in that similar vein (although usually to Leo)! Good stuff, good stuff

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Hi! For Squiddo's ask game, could I request number 7 please? "What unpopular opinions so you have?" Any continuity like.

Thankyou in advance!

Oh boy here we go (ranting TOS fan, incoming!)😆

-TOS Alan isn't a brat or a POS. Just because he turned 20-21 that doesn't mean teenage temper will automatically go away. Growing up to be an adult is complicated (believe me, I've been there XD).

-Jeff isn't a bad/abusive father (at least what I seen on older fics). Yes, he's stern, gruff and sometimes strict in some places, but the guy CAN be a goofy and supportive too! And it was proven in some occasions in the show (I'm looking at you, Day of Disaster XD). Overall, I bet he didn't wanted to put his sons in harm's way, especially in the rescue business, but left with no choice after some pestering from his boys.

-As much as I love The Uninvited to death (because of Scott, of course 😆) yeah its a bit of an unnecessary ep. Shooting up a pyramid doesn't really bring anything much on the table lol XD

-I wished the stories more focused on the characters. The Thunderbirds ships are cool and all, but I wish they acted as extensions to the Tracy Brothers. TAG did a good job at qit (as far as a "kid show" would allow).

Here's my thoughts on it 😊

[melmac78]

@alexthefly - I’ll do one for each:

TOS - Christmas. To be honest, I’m a bit clumsy at Christmas time and I think the one story spread out house would be nice.

I think too their White Elephant or Christmas passing game would be more fun (Gordon would do a literal white elephant as a gift, not pranks).

2004 version - and mind you the Tracy’s are American - July 4.

They have two pools and we know they enjoy family style dinners and cookouts. And every spot would have a good place to observe fireworks.

TAG - Easter. I could see a lot of fun coloring and dying eggs (even wrote a story centered around this part - “Gordon and the Technicolor nightmare,” as TigreMalabarista).

The egg hunt would even be more fun, with marshmallow rabbits also in the mix.

Though … this may be limited somewhat: Alan found a two year old one Gordon hid in the kitchen. (Did explain why the spaghetti was purple the year before along with undercooked…. One was in a dish Grandma used to cook Easter dinner.

Thanks for the asks.

[tsarisfanfiction]

For elemental writer asks, could I request rain☔ please? "Have you ever made yourself cry with your own writing?  If so, what was it?" Thankyou in advance!

Rain: Have you ever made yourself cry with your own writing?  If so, what was it?

You bet I have! Multiple times, in fact, usually when characters are really touched/getting comfort and it's finally sinking in that someone loves them/wants to help/they're okay, etc.

That being said, the one I actually definitively remember making me cry floods of tears as I wrote it (which made finishing the scene very difficult!) is one of my really old ones.

Yup. It was a Naruto fic. Specifically, Deception, at the moment Kisame gives Mikoto Itachi's headband after he died. I'd say in my defence I was only fifteen or sixteen when I wrote that so of course it made teenage-hormonal Tsari cry but actually if the fic makes you cry at the sad parts I'd say that's a good sign! (That being said, that's an old fic which I can tell is old, and I would have written it very differently if I wrote it today...)

Elemental Writer Asks

[alexthefly]

Did I miss the relevant prompt earlier in the week? Maybe. Shhhh...

In honour of FishTank Week, and particularly the prompt 💛"We're a team, always"💚 please enjoy this reblog.

*******

Green Wool and Sunshine

What is that?!”

“What is what?” asked Virgil through a mouthful of cinnamon roll.

“That! That…thing you’re wearing!”

Gordon sat up slowly from the sofa, his face fixed in equal parts grin and grimace as he pointed with his good hand.

Virgil looked down at himself and surreptitiously brushed a few crumbs off his sweater. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“Dude, it’s hideous,” said Gordon, eyeing the offending garment critically.

Virgil looked again. True, it wasn't in the best shape. Pale green wool, striped with white and yellow, and all of it faded and bobbled to within an inch of its life. One shoulder had a loose seam so that it looked almost as if the wool were melting. And at the centre of it all, the distinctive shape of Thunderbird Two rendered clumsily in darker green.

"Where did you get it?”

“Grandma made it for me one Christmas. You remember that vintage knitting machine Dad got her that one year?”

God, it had made a racket, like someone flicking a giant comb over and over again. Thank goodness she’d finally lost interest in that particular hobby, although in hindsight Virgil wondered if her subsequent rediscovery of her old cooking books might have been too high a price to pay.

“Anyway, I just found it the other day in the back of the closet.”

Gordon’s mouth twisted to one side. “...Any chance you could lose it back there again?”

A deep grumble. Okay, so she might not be the best at the domestic arts, but she was still their grandma and he loved that she tried. Virgil had actually thought the sweater was pretty good, in a homespun, one-sleeve-slightly-longer-than-the-other sort of way; his girl’s big, friendly turtle-face was unmistakable, and Grandma had even included a little dark-haired figure in blue and green waving out of one of her windows.

“Lay off. It’s comfortable. Anyway, I didn’t see you criticising when she made you that yellow submarine one you wore down to scraps.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “First of all, I was a lot younger then and not so refined.”

Virgil snorted.

“Secondly, yellow is infinitely better than green. And thirdly, I can carry that sort of thing off. You…” - he wafted his hand up and down at his brother in the manner of a bitchy ballroom dancing judge - “...unfortunately, cannot.”

Virgil grunted and took another bite of his roll.

“Really? Mr ‘Hawaiian Shirts and Sandals Go With Everything’ is criticising my fashion choices?”

“They totally do go with everything! They’re a completely universal outfit; the quintessential capsule wardrobe.”

He puffed out his chest to show off today’s offering, complete with large ketchup stain down the front.

“Anyway, why are you even wearing a sweater when it’s 80 degrees outside? I know you tend towards layers, tropical climate be damned, but this is a bit much even for you.”

“I was down in the hangars,” Virgil shrugged. “It was cold.”

“You doing some maintenance?” His little brother’s face lit up.

“Two’s left air intake’s doing that rattling thing again; I thought I’d give her an overhaul,” he said, brain shifting seamlessly into engineer mode, “And her injectors need a spruce up. Thought perhaps I’d have a play with that new neo-PEM cell Brains has been going on about.”

“D’you want some help?”

The enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable, and cut deep.

Virgil bit his lip. “Aww, I don’t think so, Fish. You need to rest.”

“I could rest down there? I promise, I’ll just sit and watch you."

The desperation in his brother’s puppy dog eyes felt like knives in Virgil’s chest.These last few weeks since the Marindata Ventfields had been hard on them all. Even now, with Gordy finally home from the hospital, Virgil still woke almost nightly with the sound of that emergency signal echoing in his ears, the silence of his brother’s comms stretching out in his mind until…

No, don’t think about that. He’s home. He’s safe.

But obviously Gordon had been hit the hardest. His ‘bird was a total loss, his body not much better, and he still had months of rehab ahead, bringing with it all the oh-so-unwelcome memories he’d worked so hard to bury. Regular visits from Penny had helped, and their sunshine boy was trying hard, but it was like the clouds had gathered, dimming that indefinable brightness that made him…him.

Virgil wished beyond wish that he could indulge his little brother if it would make him happy. But…

“I’m sorry Squid, Grandma’s orders. There’s just too many hazards down there. Fumes and stairs and things to trip over… I wouldn’t be able to watch out for you properly.”

Gordon sagged, and Virgil felt his heart clench painfully.

“But hey, how about I leave the maintenance and come sit up here with you instead? We could watch an episode of Buddy and Ellie?”

Anything to bring back the sun.

A shake of the head, eyes fixed downwards. “Nah, seen ‘em all.” Gordon looked up and smiled again; this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, you don’t want to be stuck up here. Not when there’s oil and grime to play about in. Better watch you don’t get that sweater dirty though, or Grandma might knit you another one.”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but his little brother cut him off.

“Stop worrying Virg. S’no biggie. I’m fine, see?” He shrugged. “I’ll just see you when you’re done.”

He lay back down on the sofa carefully, looking so much smaller than he had a moment ago.

“Actually, I’m getting a little tired now. You just go do what you gotta do - I’m gonna take a nap right here.”

And with that he closed his eyes; conversation over.

Virgil lingered for a moment, scouring his brain for something to say but coming up blank. Inside his heart burned with guilt and impotence: his little brother was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it. All he’d done was make things worse.

Perhaps he should go.

“Okay then. Take it easy, alright?”

“Yup."

“There’s cinnamon rolls in the kitchen if you get hungry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Thus dismissed, he turned and made his way towards the elevator, mind no longer on his ‘bird but instead on her grounded, miserable co-pilot.

Oh Gordy. It will get better; I promise.

………..

As the sound of the elevator faded away Gordon opened one eye a crack to check the coast was clear. Then he slowly, painfully hauled himself up, intent on getting to the residential levels. No doubt his big marshmallow of a brother would be on the comms right now, asking someone - probably Scott - to come down and check on him, and there was no way he was hanging around for that.

Even if his body hated him for moving.

The journey from the sofa to his room used to take less than two minutes. Today it took him seven minutes twenty. What was worse was that objectively he should be pleased. Sub-eight minutes was actually an improvement on a week ago.

Goddammit.

Finally, he was able to close the bedroom door behind him and collapse onto his bed, aching and miserable.

This sucked.

He was lucky to be alive; he knew that. A few weeks ago he’d been lying at the bottom of the ocean with half a volcano on top of him. Now, because of his brothers, Penny and Parker, he was back in the bosom of his family, healing, getting stronger, gradually shaving the seconds off his bedroom run.

He should be grateful. He’d been through far worse, for God’s sake.

So why?

Why wasn’t he able to shake this off?

Why was it that whenever he tried to see the positive, all he could see was just how freakin’ useless he was?

He didn’t dare say that out loud, of course. His family would absolutely kick his ass if they heard him say something like that. Penny too. (Boy, would she!) He could hear them now, telling him to give himself a chance, these things take time, blah blah blah… Hell, he even tried saying that stuff to himself sometimes, like he would if it were one of his brothers in this position instead of him.

If only any of it actually worked.

Because no matter how much he tried to reason his way out of this funk he was in, it didn’t help, because this feeling wasn’t logical. It couldn’t be reasoned with.

It whispered to him in the dark.

You’ve let them all down.

Look at the slack they’re having to pick up.

Look how much they’re worrying.

Worse.

They don’t need you back.

They’re fine without you.

Every time his brothers went off on a mission without him, it hurt. Whenever someone else took his place co-piloting for Virgil - even Penny, who was only doing it for his sake - he felt cold inside. And when Scott had been the one to take his new Thunderbird Four out for her maiden voyage? The mission to recover the Zero X capsule, no less; the thing that had kicked off Operation Bring Dad Home? Well, he’d just wanted to curl up right there on that sofa and never move again.

The unfairness.

The guilt.

The fear.

He would never wish what had happened on any of his family in a million years. But at the same time, why was it always him that got hurt?

Perhaps he really was just useless.

Sad, exhausted, hurting in more ways than he knew how to handle, he turned his face to the pillow and let the tears come.

…………

The thing about uber-strength pain meds is that they can make a guy fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon and not wake up until the early hours.

He registered the dim not-quite dark as the world slowly came back to him.

Someone had drawn the covers over him at some point during the night, tucking them around him like he was a child, and didn’t that just sum up everything? Take a nap, take your meds, and maybe if you’re a good boy you’ll get a lollipop(!)

He shifted slightly and his hip complained. Gingerly he rolled over, tackling the manoeuvre in sections, trying to get comfortable. He was just settling again when something caught his eye on the chair by his bed.

A large package wrapped neatly in yellow paper.

Twisting carefully he reached out with his good arm and pulled the chair towards him. In the soft glow of pre-dawn, he recognised the paper as the same kind he’d had for his last birthday: bright yellow with blue seahorses and glittery bubbles. Scott had complained about the glitter getting all over his shirt, and they’d all spent the next hour randomly shaking the paper over each other’s heads until they’d sparkled like they were in a Las Vegas show.

He smiled at the memory and gradually pulled himself up until he was sitting, blanket wrapped around him in the cool, almost-morning air.

Holding the package on his lap, he delicately pulled it open at the seams, revealing unmistakable green wool underneath.

What the-?

In with the sweater there was a card written in Virgil’s big, swooping hand:

Seeing as you’re the only one who could pull it off anyway, you should have this, at least until you can make it back aboard the real thing.

She isn’t the same without you. V.

He read the card two more times, breath hitching on the last sentence each time, then he gently unfurled the sweater out in front of him to take a closer look at the design, now that it was technically his.

It took a few moments for him to notice it.

Something was different.

He squinted.

There, in the window of Thunderbird Two’s cockpit, carefully embroidered next to the tiny waving figure of Virgil, a second, blond-haired figure waved out at him in shades of blue and yellow wool.

How...?

...Virgil.

For a moment, he swore he could see the little co-pilot grinning. Or was that just his suddenly-blurred vision playing tricks?

He wiped his eyes and, discarding his blanket, pulled the sweater over his head. He couldn’t get his bad arm through the sleeve, so instead opted to keep it against his chest, nestled between the soft wool and his own thrumming heart.

Despite the way it looked, Virg had been right: the sweater was comfortable. So comfortable. Softened by repeated washing, with a clean smell of detergent and just a hint of Virgil’s cologne - sandalwood and bergamot, mellow and comforting - wearing it was like wearing a hug; warm and reassuring and just so snuggly.

Full of love.

Wrapping his good arm around himself and breathing in the calming, cozy scent, he picked his way carefully over to the window and opened the blinds. Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky a hundred different shades of pink and purple and orange. As he watched, the sun slowly poked its head out over the gentle waves of his beloved ocean, bathing him in the warmth of its early morning glow.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

[mrmustachious]

Saw this and wanted to take part so I made a new post. No obligation to take part, I just thought the fandom could do with a new tag game going around!

Rules: if you're tagged, share one or two sentences (or lines for artists) from your unposted WIP with zero context.

☆☆☆☆☆

“We don’t need to do anything. It’s you who needs to get over yourself and realise not everyone is out to get you.” Alan pointed at him accusingly, and Gordon was taken aback.

☆☆☆☆☆

Tagging: @tracybirds @astranite @tanushakyrano @silverstarfics @whatgaviiformes @spaceshipsoutthepool @janetm74 @alexthefly @hebuiltfive

[gordonthegreatesttracy]

@cg29 @tbirds @janetm74 @ak47stylegirl @drileyf @mrmustachious @m-calculus @katblu42 @alexthefly bye bye Alan 🤭

[tbirds]

Coffee and Cake make a brilliant birthday 🎂 ☕️

Happy birthday to all the Virgil plushies 💖

@ak47stylegirl @bonsaiiiiiii @drileyf @gordonthegreatesttracy @heckincuddlies @inertplanetary @janetm74 @katblu42 @alexthefly @mrmustachious @psychoseal @soniabigcheese @sugar-fiend @the-lady-razorsharp @weirdburketeer

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 1)

This fic was the result of several Thunderfam members in this post.

Those responsible include @sailing-on-a-puddle @idontknowreallywhy @womble1 and @alexthefly amongst others as they bantered while I was working my Thursday night late.

This was a thank you fic for the entertainment, written sometime before midnight Thursday night after work. I posted it originally in that thread, but thought I would repost it to its own post so it is easier to find because I have now written a Sweetapple sequel, which I will post shortly.

This one has been tidied up just a little as I didn't even reread it before posting on Thursday. Many thanks to all of you for being so kind and fun and supporting me through a three hour desk shift after an eight hour day.

Also hugs to @onereyofstarlight for the read through and sanity check :D

Warnings for sickfic and sick!Virgil.

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil yawned and did his best not to choke on his own lungs.

His throat was as clogged up as his face and his head was throbbing, both from lack of sleep and the stupid flu he had picked up from probably London, in the sewers, no less.

Stupid uniform had stupid torn and diluted excrement had soaked his stupid undershirt. The smell had him dry heaving and as soon as they located the children who had caused the callout and made sure they were all safe and getting the attention they needed, Virgil had drowned himself in the heavy duty shower on Two…which he also had to clean when he finally made it home.

But the damage had been done and three days later, the first signs of the lurgy from hell had made itself known.

It turned out to be a bad flu, which wasn’t fun in the slightest, but considering what else he could have caught from raw sewage, the flu was on the preferred list.

But it was still a flu with all the horrid symptoms. At this point all the mucus in his body was residing in his head and he was in the process of developing a sinus infection that throbbed horribly with every single hacking cough.

Sleep was something he desperately needed, but couldn’t attain, and consequently his brain was not functioning anywhere near a conscious capacity.

Right now, all he knew was that he needed a drink, so he was staggering down to the kitchen to get one.

The house was dark and he was happy about that. He felt no need to stab his already aching eyeballs with light. He knew the house; the dark was calming and safe.

He made it down the kitchen stairs, to the sink, and the water hitting the back of his throat was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He took another and splashed his face with the cool liquid.

God, that felt good.

Of course, his lungs couldn’t have that, so he was again coughing. He staggered against the breakfast bar, trying to draw in breath.

Eventually he was able to gasp enough to keep himself alive. It felt overly dramatic, but considering the pounding in his head, he felt he deserved a little self pity.

Okay, drink taken, most of it had managed to stay down…now back to his bedroom.

He groaned internally. He did not want to go back to his room. He had been staring at the ceiling for hours. Being exhausted and not able to sleep was a unique kind of torture.

But honestly, wandering around the house was not recommended. Grandma would roast him - he was supposed to be in bed.

It was an image of his grandmother that drove him to climb back up the kitchen stairs to the comms room.

Apparently, there was no moon tonight. Virgil tried to recall what the date was but his brain refused to oblige.

In any case, it was dark with starlight interrupted by cloud the only light making it through the rafters. Just enough to vaguely outline the shadows in the room.

A vague idea of maybe crashing on the couch and staring up at those stars had Virgil taking a few steps into the room rather than towards the elevator. Perhaps he could open the balcony doors and breathe some fresh air.

His bare feet padded softly towards the door mechanism.

A press of a button and the massive glass panes smoothly separated, both retracting into the floor as the doors quietly opened.

The breeze that blew in was pure and fresh Tracy Island. Not that he could smell it, his nose was a snotty mess clogged all the way up to his hairline, but the breeze touched his too warm skin and, oh, that was so nice.

He moved closer to the centre of the doorway, listening to the sounds of his home, the rumble of distant surf, the rustle of leaves…his shoulders relaxed, ill muscles slowly unwinding.

Yes, he would curl up on the couch, stare at the stars, and relax into the breeze.

He took a step towards the sunken lounge and his foot came down on something sharp.

He gasped and stumbled, desperate to remove the source of the pain under his foot, only to catch something stabbing his other foot.

Ow!

The floor was suddenly covered in sharp and painful objects he could not see. No matter where he tried to put his feet, there was something, something that hurt and slid on the wooden floor.

He stumbled and his feet slipped out from under him, throwing him to the pain-filled floor with a yelp. He crashed into something that shattered beneath his shoulder in a cascade of hard pieces and he finally came to a stop on his back with a multitude of sharp shapes stabbing him.

He groaned.

Everything hurt.

Breath struggled in through his teeth.

He lay there, ignoring the stabbing in his back and limbs, not entirely confident he would be able to get up.

Then bright white completed the injuries as someone turned on the lights.

“Virgil!”

Eyes clenched shut, his sinuses and brain dancing the tarantella somewhere behind his eyes, Virgil didn’t answer his big brother.

The clatter of objects being kicked out of the way and Scott was beside him, his hand landing gently on his chest. “Virgil? Are you okay?”

Virgil kept his eyes closed, dumping an arm across his face to keep all the light out.

“Talk to me, Virgil.” A touch of Commander added steel to the big brother worry.

“Kill me now.”

A soft snort was his answer.

“Why are you bathing in Lego?”

“Wha-?” He opened his eyes blinking tears away and forcing himself to focus.

A literal mountain of Lego sat beside him. Its shape was an eerily familiar Tracy Island…minus the villa and some of the rocks around the caldera…which had apparently joined the Virgil stabbing party when he fell on it.

“C’mon, let’s get you up.”

Virgil was still staring at the Lego version of the Island. Wha-?

Scott wrapped an arm around his shoulders and levered Virgil into a sitting position.

Ow, now he was being stabbed even more in the butt.

He scrambled awkwardly onto his feet, everything complaining as he stared down at the mass of scattered Lego.

Scott didn’t let go of him.

“Who made this?”

“Gordon and Alan. It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“I’ve broken it.”

“You have.” Scott sighed. “But it is Lego, it can be rebuilt. You, on the other hand, need to go back to bed.”

Virgil grunted, but was betrayed by his body as it swayed in Scott’s grip.

“Or better yet, the infirmary.”

“God, no. I’m f-“ He gasped and then sneezed, his head screaming.

“Ow.”

Scott sighed again. “Let me check you over and…” He frowned down at Virgil. “…attend to your Lego injuries.” There was enough smirk in the concern to be brotherly evil.

Virgil managed to mumble a protest, but he was more than tired and leant into his brother’s half hug, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder.

“C’mon, little brother.”

Virgil groaned. Scott only called him ‘little brother’ when he was worried and wanted to get his way. Mostly because it worked every time.

A soft snort and Scott was leading him out of Lego hell and walking him to the infirmary.

Virgil may have fallen asleep on Scott’s shoulder at some point.

But he was beyond caring.

And Scott was, as always, doing enough for the both of them.

-o-o-o-

Next

[lenfantdeverone]

IT'S PRIDE!

Happy Thunderpride to the amazing @alexthefly

I attempted to write something for the emotional prompt you provided: Just be yourself

To me, this prompt felt really personal and I really wanted to write something fluffy and completely happy around this simple concept!

I really hope you'll like it, English is not my first language and I apologize immensely for any possible errors. Please, enjoy, and again happy Thunderpride!

“Rise and shine, boys!” Scott’s voice came echoing through the hallway. It was barely 8AM, way too early for Scott Carpenter Tracy himself to be willingly awake if he could help it, let alone be shouting excitingly all over the house. There was something fishy going on, and Alan wasn’t really sure if he wanted to know or not.

The younger Tracy boy exhaled, rubbing his sore eyes. He had just came back from a 14 hours long mission deep in space, and he barely had time to sleep through his exhaustion after the lengthy check on Thunderbird 3. Alan really wanted to go back to sleep, but Scott just burst into his younger brother’s room, a huge smile on his face.

“Wakey wakey, Alan!” the littlest Tracy swore he never heard his elder brother sound so happy in his entire life. “Get ready, we’re going to Pride!” Scott’s dimples deepened as his smile got bigger.

Alan managed to glance at his brother, struggling to focus his eyes through his exhaustion. Still, he managed to grasp a sparkly pair of rainbow sunglasses on his brother’s face. Scott stood proudly in Alan’s room doorstep, showing off his custom made T-shirt which read “BEST SUPPORTIVE BROTHER EVER”.

“What is going on?” Alan asked, rising an eyebrow.

“It’s Pride day!” Scott declared happily. “Gay rights!”

“But… you’re not gay, Scott..? Right?” Alan was genuinely confused, as he would have never guessed that his elder brother would be gay. Not that it would change anything, he was just surprised -and honestly still too sleepy to really function- that he possibly never noticed.

“I’m not, as far as I know, but Virgil is!” Scott managed to grasp the second Tracy brother, embracing him proudly. Virgil had clearly just woke up, but he let himself be cuddled, a sleepy and confused look on his face. “And Gordon is pansexual, am I right?” Scott asked.

“LET’S FREACKING GOOOOOO” Gordon just spawned in Alan’s room out of nowhere, wearing a striped shirt with what Alan figured out was the pansexual flag colours.

“You’re all so loud, it’s 8AM guys!” Kayo walked past Alan’s room, and the youngest Tracy managed to grasp her bright orange-white-pink striped shirt.

“I-I think the shirt I ordered is too lose…” Brain sighed from across the corridor, basically running after Virgil. “Could you p-please help me out, Virgil? I-I really wanted to wear m-my demisexual shirt this year.”

“See? Everyone is getting ready! And since I am the best big brother in the world, I’m taking you all to pride!” Scott just sparkled joy. “Now, get ready, I’m going to call John and ask him back on Earth for the occasion.”

“Ehm… what occasion?” John’s voice came unexpectedly, his hologram just floating in the middle of Alan’s room.

“Pride, duh!” Gordon said, or rather yelled happily.

“Uh, yeah-“ John decided to simply ignore Gordon’s little dance as he showed everyone his shirt, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, not interested. Too crowdy, too loud…”

“But John..!” Scott sighed, taking his rainbow sunglasses off. “I even got you this cute asexual flag pin!” The elder brother took a small, yet incredibly well-crafted enamel pin featuring the asexual flag, showing it off with a proud smile on his face.

“Scott, wha-“ John’s eyes widened as he stared in disbelief. “How- Why- I never told any of you guys, how did you-“

“It’s written on my shirt.” Scott said, pointing at the bold lettering on his chest. “Best supportive brother EVER. I just know you guys, it’s my job. Now get down to Earth, we’re going as soon as the elevator docks!”

John couldn’t really hide the little smile surfacing on his face. He just couldn’t help it, no matter how his brothers always managed to brighten up his life. His hologram disappeared, and in a matter of moments he was ready to beam down to Earth, bringing portable EOS with him; he held her proudly, genuinely excited to show her all the layers of human diversity.

Back on Earth, Scott exhaled proudly, ruffling Alan’s hair as the littlest brother rubbed his eyes in a poor attempt to fully wake up.

“But Scott...?” Alan finally managed to speak after a long yawn. “I don’t really know what I am yet… What should I do? What should I wear?” He asked nervously, scratching the back of his head. “The others all have custom made shirts and gadgets, and I don’t even know what all those colours mean…” He sighed, his bright blue eyes fixed on the floor. “What if I just… don’t belong?”

Scott couldn’t help but soften at his youngest brother’s sincere moment of vulnerability, knowing well how hard it is at Alan’s age to find a place in the universe. He sat on the bed, gently squeezing his little sibling and shaking him a bit.

“Alan, you don’t have to label yourself, especially not now!” Scott smiled warmly. “You’re just a kid, no one expects you to know anything about your identity just yet. I don’t even know if I’m 100% straight, you know, with all the missions I genuinely have no time to think about it. But it doesn’t really matter, doesn’t it?” he embraced Alan tightly, trying to convey just how much he cherished him. “Just be yourself. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“Can I still come with you guys even if I don’t really know anything?” Alan attempted a shy little smile, leaning into Scott’s embrace in search of comfort and support.

“Of course you can. I’m sure the others would love for you to be there. We’re family, I want us to support and trust each other.” Scott’s smile widened as Alan finally relaxed, feeling true, genuine excitement now that his doubts were settled. “Now, let’s go eat breakfast! I think grandma made pancakes for us, but she promised to let M.A.X. help her this time!”

“Ugh, I sure hope she did!”

“Hey, let’s appreciate the effort.” Scott chuckled. “She wants the best for all of us. Now, shall we?”

Cosplayers featured in the pic:

Scott: me

Virgil: @emmykaze

John: @spocklaformica (ivolcosplay on IG)

Gordon: @ james.cos_ (IG)

Alan: @sassotheclown

PH: @ andukarphoto (IG)

[flashfictionfridayofficial]

✨ Quarterly Masterlist of Antique Prompts ✨

It’s time for extra flash fiction! We cherish these beautiful works you have written and shared with us over the past months. Please check out these amazing flash fiction pieces and show them some love! <3

If you have written an old prompt outside of its deadline and are missing from this list, please let us know and we’ll add you!

The next masterlist will come October 1st!

Caroline's Nightmare by @betweenthetimeandsound

The Truth She Has Yet To See by @baubeautyandthegeek

An Act Of Piracy by @tamiveldura

Blind spot by @mtnikolle

Watching the birds by @baubeautyandthegeek

Watching Birds by @lucigoo

In conversation by @nicholsroy

Backs Turned, Victory by @reblog-house

Open your eyes by @incandescent-creativity

Death without Slumber by @reblog-house

Spill the tea by @justnerdy15

Spilling Tea by @alexthefly

You Don’t Like Me But I’m Your Friend by @endlesstwanted

A little catching up by @reblog-house

Justice served piping hot by @darkhorse-javert

Exhibition by @tasam1075

Beyond This Horizon by @minervas-hand

In the heart by @minervas-hand

Questions Do Not Speak As Loud As The Heart by @drelizabethgreene

Muted colors by @prussianultramine

The sun gazing back by @reblog-house

Moonrise by @starlightfireflies

Cupid by @vamp-ress

A second Chance (Too Bad Your A Corpse) by @reblog-house

Colluding by @a-forbidden-detective

[idontknowreallywhy]

A particularly lovely chord progression somehow ended up with me driving a wedge between Earth and Sky and I promised I’d try to fix it.

Super long car journey today presented an opportunity but events got away from me and I accidentally made it worse. Oops… um… I’m sorry? Apologies to @ajpendragon @alexthefly @astranite @janetm74 @sofasurf and anyone else who asked for a fix and will remain disappointed for now…

Piano Angst - the aftermath

It had been nearly a week and Scott felt like he was missing a limb.

Virgil was definitely avoiding him.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t seen each other - they’d worked together perfectly normally on several rescues. They’d both joined in the usual banter over mealtimes. There had even been a family film night - albeit, instead of joining Scott on their usual couch, Virgil had squeezed in with the Tinies and spent the evening competing with Gordon as to who could wind up Alan the most about his movie choice.

But they’d not been alone in the same room. At least, not for more than the few seconds it took for Virgil to make some excuse and leave it.

He’d even apparently conscripted Gordon into constantly keeping him company whilst he did maintenance on Two. Despite all Scott’s loitering around the hangar, the Fish never seemed to get the hint to make himself scarce. Except that one time when Scott had hinted at the availability of leftover pizza in the kitchen but then Virgil had raced off hot on Gordon’s heels. Which would not have been of any note whatsoever if it hadn’t been for that momentary flash of panic Scott was sure had crossed Virgil’s face as Gordon jumped to his feet.

It wasn’t just the lost chance to really TALK to his brother either. There was a physical distance too which was almost more painful. It turned out that Virgil’s elbow nudges at dinner, his arm across Scott’s shoulders as they walked across the lounge, his habit of stretching out and throwing his feet over big brother’s legs when they had a moment to chill together on the couch… these felt as natural and as essential to Scott as eating or drinking and he missed it more than he could have explained. It made his jaw hurt.

He had figured he just had to give Virgil time and be available when he was ready. So he’d made a conscious effort to *not* be working whenever they had downtime, hovering in the communal areas and looking un-busy. He rushed through the paperwork later, once everyone was in bed and then stayed up for hours each night studying the last couple of month’s worth of mission logs and recordings, desperately trying to work out what had triggered… whatever it was… the other day.

He’d been lying, Scott was certain of that. Ironically that certainty had made him very uncertain of everything else - Virgil never lied to him. He was awful at it. Honesty usually shone out of his big puppy-like brown eyes. When he was withholding something they were clouded with guilt.

But to invoke their mother’s memory as a cover-up?

It must have been serious.

His research efforts turned up nothing at all out of the ordinary other than it had actually been a pretty successful run of rescues, a bit of a reprieve from the average. He couldn’t find any aspect of the scenarios they’d faced that seemed like it might have particularly upset his brother.

It had to have something to do with him. Virgil was acting perfectly normally with everyone else. He re-listened to every interaction they’d had over the comm. Had he been too brusque in directing the rescues recently? Was his tone wrong? He didn’t think he sounded any different although after a while his own voice really began to grate on him. Virgil’s responses seemed normal and he didn’t appear to react to anything in a negative way. Perhaps his brother was maybe a little quieter on the comm than usual… should he have noticed that sooner?

Or had he embarrassed him by making it clear he’d noticed him getting carried away that afternoon? But Virgil had never seemed to be worried about Scott witnessing his piano binges before - most of the worst more-recovery-than-rescue missions had been thrashed out on the piano over the years… No. The only way to find out was to ask him directly.

He hovered at the door of the hangar, took a couple of breaths to slow his galloping heart rate and pushed it ajar. He could hear Gordon talking at a mile a minute about something to do with aquaculture and Virgil was leaning up against a pod module with a politely interested look on his face. His eyes flicked briefly over to his eldest brother but didn’t linger, instead focussing firmly back on little brother with renewed focus.

Scott felt rather like he’d taken a grapple to the chest and backed out, closing the door softly behind him. He ignored the elevator and elected for the long slow trudge up the stairwell. By the time he made it to the lounge his vision was blurry and he had reached the limit of what he could bear. He found a sheet of notepaper from the desk drawer and scribbled a note. He folded it precisely in half, opened it again and checked it, then refolded it, running a shaking thumb along the edge. He tucked it underneath the door to his brother’s bedroom on the way to his own.

Virgil, I’ve upset you and I can’t for the life of me work out when or how it was in order to apologise properly - but please know I am so sorry.

I’ll be on my balcony the rest of the evening if you want to talk.

I miss you. S x

[tagsecretsanta]

From @alexthefly

From @alexthefly to @gaviiadastra

FUN AND GAMES NIGHT

The prompts:

A Tracy Island games night;

Something’s cooking in the kitchen;

Put the mess in domestic.

Rating: teen

Content warnings:

Moderate whump (fracture, soft tissue injuries);

Alcohol throughout (no drunkenness);

Flirting, including innuendo and one sex mention;

One instance of swearing.

Other warnings: a bit of Pen & Ink included in this one; hope that's ok.

**********

A familiar combination of thrusters, VTOL and a slightly-delayed sonic boom signalled Thunderbird One's return to the island. Gordon immediately felt his heart-rate leap a hundred beats.

“They’re here! Action stations! Alan, fluff the cushions; Virgil, get the food; Kayo…”

Whatever task Gordon had been about to assign to her fizzled away in a blaze of epic side-eye.

“...just kick back and relax, ok? No biggie.”

He backed away a few steps just to be safe, but his sister seemed satisfied, pointedly putting her feet back up on the coffee table before returning to her romance book. 

Any other day the temptation to comment on her choice of reading material would be far too much to bear, however hazardous to his health such a comment might be, but today he had other things occupying his mind.

“What can I do?” asked John, making to get up just as Virgil - already on his feet - pushed him firmly back down onto the sofa.

“You can stay right there, Mister,” he said, voice full-medic stern. “You know the rules. First night down from Five means no unnecessary moving around.”

John rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian, but thankfully stayed where he was. 

Gordon flashed the big man a grateful smile on his way past to the kitchen. The last thing he needed right now was a certified space-case causing a danger to himself and others.

Not tonight.

“Shall I get some tunes ready?” Alan had already pulled his tablet out from behind a pillow and started tapping. “I’ve got a great playlist I’ve been working o-”

“Is it video game music?” asked Kayo, not even looking up.

“Yeah?”

“No!” The chorus was unanimous.

“Aww, but it’s not like normal video games. It’s this really cool mix of techno and-”

“NO!”

Alan pouted. “Oh, so I guess you'd all rather listen to Fish-boy’s sea shanties and Europop?”

“Hey!”

Gordon was all ready to defend his frankly impeccable musical taste, but John was clearly not in a mood for bickering.

“EOS, could you put on playlist P3 please?”

“Of course John.”

And with that the room was filled with gentle contemporary music - upbeat but not too raucous, neither intrusive nor dull - ideal for an evening with company. Obviously it was no Wellerman, but it wasn’t half bad. 

“Would you like some ambient lighting as well?”

“Not right now, thankyou EOS” replied John, ruffling Alan’s hair as he sat back down with a huff. “Is everything okay up there? Any calls? I could dial in if you need me?”

“Absolutely not,” said Kayo, an edge of menace in her voice. “You’re staying right where you are. Grandma’s orders.”

John scowled.

“Really John, there’s no need,” continued EOS. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things for one evening.”

Gordon noted the slight drop of his big brother’s shoulders but decided not to tug on that thread just now. Gravity always did a number on John the first night down, and it had been known to make him grumpy and homesick.

Virgil wandered back in carrying a big bucket filled with ice water, bottles of beer, prosecco, and cans of soda. With every step another puddle of ice water sloshed over the side and onto the floor.

“Allie, get a cloth would you? And could someone get some glasses out please? I’m kinda weighed down here.”

Kayo and Alan each grabbed one of John’s shoulders, using them to both pin him down and haul themselves up. The older man started to object, but was distracted by a ping on Alan’s tablet beside him.

“Scott’s on his way up now.”

Oh god oh god oh god. 

Gordon had the sudden and inexplicable urge to dunk his head in the bucket Virgil had just set down, but instead decided to busy himself with robustly re-plumping the chair pillows while bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“So everything’s ready, right? Place is tidy, drinks are out, games are stacked, food’s in hand… Are we all set? Should I open a window? It’s kinda hot in here.” Am I sweating? “Maybe I should go change-”

“Breathe Gordon.” soothed Virgil, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The weight of it felt good. Calming. “This isn’t a state dinner; just a normal games night like we’ve done a thousand times before. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Gordon scoffed. “Except it’s not though, is it? ‘Cos those other times it was just us, not-”

There was a ding and the elevator doors slid open.

“Right through here Lady Penelope.” Scott Tracy, suave as always, smoothly waved their guest into the room. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and we’ll get started.”

“Thankyou Scott. And sorry again that you had to come and collect me…”

And there she was. Penelope.

Perfection personified. The epitome of class and grace. A beautiful angel with a heart of gold and a spine of steel, whose voice was a song and whose smile could reduce whole armies to-

“Gordon, what on earth are you doing to that cushion?”

Huh?

He looked down at his hands to see the pillow he’d been fluffing, now scrunched and twisted over and over as if he were trying to throttle the poor thing. As he stared down trying to compute the mess of fabric and stuffing it suddenly disappeared from his hands, and then something was shoving him in the back, causing him to stumble forwards over his own feet. He recovered just in time to spot Virgil throwing the battered scatter cushion back behind the sofa, grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, there will be vengeance…

Right now though she was looking at him and oh god he needed to say something.

“Uh…”

Quick as you like, Tracy.

“Er…” His throat made a strange sort of rasping sound.

Any words will do!

“Lady Penelope!” he squeaked. “Welcome in! Come here! I mean come in. Welcome here. You’re welcome here. To our home I mean. This home. Where we…”

He glanced over and caught sight of Kayo, face in hand, shaking her head behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the evening.

“Drink!” he exclaimed, just a little too loudly. “Can I… Would you like a drink?”

The small, knowing smile she gave him was all at once thrilling and completely mortifying; a glorious little needle of light straight through his poor, mortal little heart.

“That would be wonderful. Thankyou Gordon.”

Cheeks burning, he slumped off to the bar and a consolatory shoulder nudge from Kayo while Scott showed Penelope to the seating area. Virgil scooted around them and disappeared back down to the kitchen, throwing him a sympathetic look on the way.

After getting their guest settled, Scott casually folded himself down on the sofa next to her. “So how come Parker didn’t join us tonight? He was more than welcome.”

Gordon loudly shovelled a scoopful of ice into a long glass and then reached for the schnapps.

Stupid Never-flustered Always-has-the-right-words Scott Tracy…

“He wasn’t feeling too good I’m afraid. He said something about Lilian’s casserole disagreeing with him, but to be honest I suspect it was probably more to do with the FA cup final showing on BBC.”

Cranberry, orange wedge…

Kayo cleared her throat softly. “So what drink was it you wanted, Lady Penelope?”

Gordon’s brain short-circuited, vodka in hand. 

What.. drink?

He replayed the conversation - such as it had been - through again in his head.

…Dammit, he forgot to ask! He’d been so flummoxed he’d ended up mixing on autopilot.

“Oh, anything really. Whatever you’re all having.” Penelope looked over curiously. “What’s that you have there, Gordon?”

Aww hell.

“It’s a… umm… Sex on the Beach.”

Now it was John’s turn to facepalm while Alan snickered from behind his tablet. Even Scott snorted before passing it off with a hasty clear of the throat. 

Lady Penelope, however, held Gordon’s gaze, expression inscrutable, then ever so slowly arched one perfectly coiffured eyebrow.

“Well, that sounds interesting. But perhaps just some wine for now and we’ll see how we get on.”

There was a squeak beside him, and Kayo ducked down behind the bar giggling. Alan snort-coughed and had to be hit on the back by John, who was at least trying - somewhat painfully - to keep a straight face. Scott just grinned at him.

Gordon stood there, stunned into inertia, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own mortification holding him back or the slight hint of mischief in Penelope’s eye, almost as if…

Nope, he was definitely imagining it.

Scott looked from one to the other for a moment then, chuckling to himself, jumped to his feet and strode over to the bar.

“C’mon Fish,” he said quietly, grabbing a champagne flute off the bar top and flashing his best, most reassuring, big brother smile. “Let’s go choose a game and get this thing started.”

Gordon nodded, dumbfounded. He grabbed his ridiculous but perfectly mixed drink, complete with little novelty umbrella, and trudged over to the seating area.

Alan was already giving the assembled group a run-down of the various choices lined up for the evening. “We’ve got all your classics like backgammon, chess, battleships, guess who…”

“Those are all for two people, Allie,” said Scott, grabbing himself a beer and pouring Penelope her wine. “How about something we can all play?”

“Clue then?”

“That needs six. We’ve got seven.”

“I don’t mind sitting out the first round if you need me to,” Penelope said gently, accepting her drink.

“Not a chance,” said John firmly. “You’re our guest.”

Alan looked around, confused. “Wait, who’s the seventh?” 

Kayo passed him a soda from the bucket. 

“Uh, Virgil(?)”

“Oh yeah.”

““Oh yeah” he says,” came Virgil’s voice over the ‘comms. “How soon I’m forgotten(!)”

“Sorry Virg!” Alan slurped his soda loudly, earning him a frown from both Scott and Gordon. “Guess I’m just too hungry to think. Where’s the food at?”

“It’s coming. Just waiting for the vol-au-vents to puff up.”

Alan nearly spat out his soda. 

“Vol-au-vents?! What happened to our wings and chi- Oww!” 

A pillow flew across the room and caught Alan right upside the head. He got back up and glared at Gordon, who was already gearing up for another throw. 

“Whatcha do that for?”

Penelope looked from one to the other, realisation dawning. 

“I do hope you didn’t go to any trouble, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not at all. Really, it’s all in hand. I’ll be up in a few.” 

And with that the comms blinked off.

John swayed forward in his seat. “Y’know, I might go give him a hand…”

“Sit down, John!” ordered Scott, clearly done with them all by this point.

John remained there for a second, possibly weighing up the odds of making a run for it, then sat back down, arms folded definitely-not-at-all petulantly. 

“...Fine.”

“What about Monopoly?” suggested Penelope, clearly trying to change the subject. “That can have up to eight players.”

Kayo shook her head. 

“Can’t.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve been banned,” Alan piped up. “Grandma said so.”

A pause. “...I see.”

“Well that doesn’t matter, does it?” urged Gordon, keen to get everyone playing before the whole evening went up in smoke. “Grandma can’t stop us from all the way in Gran Roca.”

“You sure about that, Gords?” asked Kayo, eyebrow raised.

He laughed nervously. “Heh…”

“In any case,” interjected Scott, “did you forget why Grandma banned it?”

“...Good point.”

The Great Tracy Anti-capitalist Revolution of 2056. In Gordon’s defence Scott had started it, buying up all those hotels like a dragon hoarding gold…

Alan held up a bunch of VR headsets. “How about something more modern? I’ve got Samurai Slasher, Twilight Ridge, Malibu Steade’s Epic Quest…?”

Scott frowned. “Not on John's first night down, Squirt.”

“Oh yeah. Gotcha.”

Gordon nodded. Way too much potential for injury.

“Ugh!” John threw his hands in the air. “You guys are like a flock of mother hens. I’m fine! Look…” He rolled to his feet before anybody could tell him not to. “Nice and steady. No wobbles, no stumbles. Nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Uh, Johnny…”

“John darling...”

“Nope, I’m not listening,” he barked, striding purposely out of the seating area towards the stairwell, “Comfort breaks are necessary, so I don't care what you s-”

“John!”

“Food’s here!”

“Look out!”

There was an “oof” and a crash as spaceman, heavy-lifter and a platter of freshly-made vol-au-vents collided in a mess of limbs and pastry before tumbling out of sight down the kitchen stairs.

“John!”

“Virgil!”

Everyone was on their feet as a series of thuds, grunts, clatters and clangs echoed from the stairway, followed by one very plaintive “Oww.”

The place immediately erupted into total uproar. Ever the level head, Kayo immediately ran to get the first aid kit and the medi-scanner. Meanwhile Scott - always the quickest to leap into action - practically flew down the stairs after the pair of them in a frenzy of big brotherly concern, with Alan, Gordon and Penelope following closely behind. 

The two fallers themselves were actually relatively uninjured in the circumstances. Both were a mess of bruises and grazes and smooshed pastry, but at least they were fully conscious and coherent enough to be thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. John had twisted his ankle and had a walnut-sized bump on his forehead, and Virgil (who had slid most of the way down the steps backwards) ended up with a bruised tailbone, strained shoulder and one broken finger.  

The kitchen, unfortunately, hadn’t fared quite so well. Total disaster was the most accurate description. 

Best they could figure, the metal serving platter Virgil had been carrying had reached the ground floor airborne, bounced off the doorframe and had landed right in the middle of the countertop, sending plates, bowls, jars and spoons scattering and smashing all over the place. The situation wasn’t helped any when MAX, having heard the commotion, came speeding into the kitchen brandishing a mop and broom, skidded on a stray patch of vol-au-vent filling, slammed into the fridge and sent ice cubes from the dispenser shooting across the floor, then got confused and started spinning on the spot, taking out the stand mixer and two cupboard doors in the process.

Eventually they managed to get things back on a somewhat even keel. After a thorough checking over and an even more thorough mothering from Big Bro, both casualties were helped to their feet and safely installed back on the sofas with strict instructions not. To. Move. 

Penelope kept herself busy fetching drinks and ice packs for the patients and generally trying to soothe frayed nerves while Gordon, Alan and Kayo set to work fixing the kitchen back up, but after twenty minutes Scott - aware of the time and the presence of their guest - called everyone back to try to enjoy what was left of the evening.

And so instead of vol-au-vents, chips and dips were retrieved from various stashes in various rooms, drinks were replenished (non-alcoholic for the two injured parties, eliciting low grumbles from one and shrug of “stupid gravity” from the other) and in lieu of further disagreements a couple of packs of cards was produced. 

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying rounds of Go Fish, rummy, and playing poker for bottle caps, with plenty of jokes, stories and good conversation enjoyed in-between. Towards the end of the night - and to Gordon’s delight - Penelope even taught them a game from her university days called Shithead.

Finally, after most of the others had said their goodnights and wandered off to their rooms, Gordon and Penelope sat side-by-side on the sofa finishing their drinks alone, save for Alan who was snoring softly on the floor beside them.

Penelope swirled the last of her drink with her straw. “Do you think we should move him? That doesn’t look very comfortable…”

Gordon shrugged. “Nah, that’s how he normally sleeps. It’s a teenager thing,” he added, chewing on his orange slice garnish.

Penelope beamed. “I really have had a lovely time tonight. It’s been the most terrific fun, injuries notwithstanding of course.” 

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the warm mood lighting that EOS had finally persuaded John to put on an hour or so earlier.

“And this drink of yours really is delicious by the way.”

Gordon laughed.

“See? I knew you’d like it. Maybe one day I’ll open up a bar of my own right on the beach and serve them out of coconut shells.”

He removed the little paper umbrella from his glass and started opening and closing it like he was in a tiny Hollywood musical.

She laughed. “Well if tonight’s anything to go by, any bar of yours would never be dull!”

Gordon grinned and presented the tiny decoration to her with a flourish, all hint of his earlier embarrassment gone. He was here, she was here, and it was all just… right.

She accepted it with a smile.

Really though Gordon, it’s been the most wonderful night.” 

There was a pause while she twirled the umbrella in her hand thoughtfully.

“You know, it’s not always easy to relax around other people, especially in my line of work.” She sighed. “So many functions, so many people, but it can all sometimes feel just a little bit…” 

She shook her head. 

“I’m not making any sense. It’s just that being here with you all, everything feels so… easy; so fun.”

Gordon leaned forwards, willing her to go on. It was like a wall somewhere was shifting, and he could finally catch a small glimpse of what was actually going on behind that perfect smile of hers.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is, thankyou so much for inviting me.”

A breath. A moment that seemed to stretch out between them, soft and fragile.

“Thankyou for coming.”

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

The next morning, as Penny yawned and stretched out in the extra-soft, gloriously comfortable guest bed, luxuriating in the distinct novelty of waking up with nowhere particular she needed to be, her eye fell on the little yellow umbrella laying, just as she'd left it, on top of the nightstand beside her.

She smiled, her stomach fluttering.

So fun…

From downstairs there was a sudden commotion and a voice:

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU KIDS DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!”

[psychoseal]

@cg29 is on vacation and her boys were not invited so they are having their own vacation at mine! They have been here for a week now and today everyone went to the donkey sanctuary

@drileyf @mrmustachious @soniabigcheese @alexthefly @ak47stylegirl @m-calculus @katblu42 we had some lunch and got to see lots of donkeys

I found this super cool snail and I wanted to keep him as a pet but Parker Nessie said no. I named him Sir Slimesalot he was an awesome snail and I miss him!

[uniwolfcorn]

⚡️THUNDERDOGS ARE GO!⚡️

John: Bozori

Gordon: Shiba Inu

Alan: Beagle

Virgil: Newfoundland

Scott: Greyhound

Jefferson: Norwegian Elkhound

Sally/Ruth: Bearded Collie

Lucy: Samoyed

💜🧡🤍💛💙🧡💛❤️💚💙💜💖🖤🤎🤍

Happy Thunderbirds Day

To Everyone!~

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality, @skymaiden32, @teapotteringabout, @jacksonstarkiller, @alexthefly, @avengedbiologist, @louthestarspeaker, @crunchyluigi, @squiddokiddo, @gumnut-logic, @janetm74, @godsliltippy, @gaviiadastra, @katblu42, @lenle-g, @thundergirl007, @ak47stylegirl, @dreamycloud, @etrnlvoid, @knyee, @greywake, @llamawrites, @tikatu, @willow-salix, @forest-falcon, @riallasheng, @soniabigcheese, @inertplanetary, @mrmustachious, @yarol2075, @galaxytransman, @n-chu4ever💕

Bonus! Here's John with a blanket. He keeps it on at all times XD

[alexthefly]

In honour of 💛FishTank💚 Week and this prompt - *Food on the Go* - please enjoy a little reblog snippet from Lone Star (which I promise I haven't abandoned, honest!)

***********

Thunderbird Two’s pre-flight routine was so familiar to him by now that Virgil didn’t even need to think about it. Which was unfortunate, because right now he was trying to consciously remember where he’d gotten to and drawing a blank.

“Gordon, will you please stop staring at me? You’re putting me off.”

He turned and glared at his co-pilot, who was scowling back at him from the rear of the cockpit.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

Virgil shrugged. “I was hungry.”

The scandalised look of betrayal on his little brother’s face was almost comical. “It was my last bar!

“Yeah,” he grunted, “You said.”

Repeatedly.

“It’s your own fault. I warned you last week that we were running low.”

“‘Running low’ is not ‘run out’,” grumbled Gordon, stalking to the front, “I was saving it.”

“You were not. You forgot it was here.”

“Did not!”

He scoffed. “Okay, fine then. Next time you want to ‘save’ something, save it on your own ‘bird. You leave snacks lying around my ship, you should expect them to get eaten.”

Gordon opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again; instead he flopped into his seat and pouted dramatically. “I trusted you. You’re supposed to be the nice one.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” said John, his wry smile materialising in front of them from the console.

“Johnny!” Gordon sat upright, an immediate grin plastered across his face. “My new favourite brother! Please tell lunkhead over here that I’m not speaking to him.”

Virgil blinked. Lunkhead?

“Nope, tell him yourself. And don’t call me Johnny.”

The grin disappeared into a pout again. “But if I tell him... the not speaking… Ugh!” Gordon flung himself back into the chair with a whumph. “That’s it, I have no brothers!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. So much drama over one little snack!

John turned to face him, apparently totally indifferent to the threat of being disowned. “Could you please do something about him? I can hear his whining even with the comms off.”

“...I don’t whine,” muttered Gordon into his chest.

He always looked much younger when he sulked; so much harder to resist giving in to.

Virgil chuckled. “Okay, fine. But only because it’s you.”

He reached into one of a multitude of little cubbies around the console, pulled out two hidden celery crunch bars, and tossed them into Gordon’s lap. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

Gordon gave a little whoop of joy. “I knew you were holding out on me,” he exclaimed, falling on the snacks like a starving vulture.

“Yeah, well, don’t forget to chew,” replied Virgil. “I’m pretty tired, and the Heimlich takes effort, so…” An involuntary yawn cut off the end of his sentence as if to prove the point.

For a moment all was peaceful save for the sound of chewing.