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Tracy's don't Quit

This is for @soniabigcheese and @followthepaintbrush . There were so many amazing choices (I may have written another 400 words on accident for a different picture), but this picture just kind of grabbed on to me, and kept dragging me back until I agreed to write it. I hope I was able to do justice to it. You can find the link here. And the story below the cut.

They were nearly 72 hours into the worst disaster they had experienced in the history of the Thunderbirds and all of them were running on copious amounts of caffeine and severely lacking amounts of sleep. Scott and John were functioning passably well, both used to sleepless nights and short naps snatched when they could get them. Virgil had passed a healthy amount of coffee about two days ago, and was currently on his fifth cup in as many hours. While they all knew he was leading up to a horrible crash as soon as he stopped, not even Scott was brave enough to try to take it away. The youngest two were gulping down energy drinks whenever possible, which Scott had taken to confiscating when he spotted them. But not even big brother could be everywhere at once, and they had managed to sneak quite a few past his watchful eyes.

Even still, all of them were flagging. They were lucky that John had been down from orbit and was already adjusted to gravity before he was called out, because they needed everyone. EOS was overseeing the operation from orbit, rerouting other emergency calls to their local authorities, and helping to coordinate the hundreds of people on site. Every disaster agency in the world had sent people, the emergency uniting people in a way they rarely ever were. Grandma was in one of the many medical tents set up at a safe distance, helping to patch up as many as she could along with doctors from every corner of the world. Even Brains had left the island, joining some of the brightest minds in the world to help figure out a solution. And Kayo was off trying to find the cause. 

But even with all the help, it wasn’t enough. They were rapidly losing the fight, being pushed back gradually with every hour that passed. If they didn’t come up with a solution soon, there would be no way to stop it. The earthquake had been relatively minor, initially, and confined to a fairly small area. If it had stopped, there would have been no need for International Rescue. But four days of a continuous earthquake, combined with the heavy rains the region had been experiencing, had led to a massive sinkhole, which was growing by the hour. Alan had been tasked with flying Thunderbird Two, using the equipment on board to help stabilize the sides of the massive hole. It was only delaying the inevitable, but they had to do what they could, holding out until they could find a solution. Scott and Gordon had been in and out of pods, racing through the woods around the site, clearing out every home they found. John and Virgil were focused on the town, going door to door to ensure every house was empty. Most of the town was damaged from the earthquake, so they were climbing in and out of broken buildings, pulling people from the wreckage and loading them onto the rescue planes on the edge of town.

Fighting to save people during an active earthquake was taking its toll. Scott had been in a building when a particularly strong tremor hit, (with his helmet off, of course) and a piece of ceiling had fallen on him. He had an impressive black eye, and probably a concussion, although he had managed to avoid Virgil’s sharp eyes and continued to work. Gordon had been climbing on the outside of the same building, trying to find an easier way to get to the people in the attic, and managed to catch himself when the ceiling fell in, but wrenched his back and shoulder. Nothing was broken, thankfully, but that didn’t necessarily mean it hurt any less. Alan was far past the usual limits for their flight hours. Virgil had raw spots where his exo-suit attached to his body, and had taken to shoving rags in the gaps of the harness for extra padding. John had slipped when a particularly strong tremor had hit, and landed on a falling beam, severely bruising or possibly even breaking his ribs.But there was nothing to be done. The people counting on them couldn’t afford for them to stop, so none of them did, ignoring their own problems to focus on the bigger picture.

A rare moment of downtime had all five of them were together near the medical tents. The rescue teams had just arrived from bringing back their latest batch of rescuees, and were attempting to grab some food as quickly as possible. The constant work had worn them all down, and they were beyond exhausted. 

The five of them were seated in a circle, gulping down bowls of hot stew someone had prepared. Scott was careful to keep his black eye facing away from Virgil, hoping to put off the inevitable lecture for as long as possible, and was letting John lean against his back to help take pressure off of his space brother’s aching ribs. Gordon was up and down, sitting and grabbing a few bites before jumping back up to pace, knowing that if he fully stopped moving, he wouldn’t be able to get back up. Virgil had taken the opportunity to remove the exo-suit, and was enjoying the freedom of movement without its restrictions. Alan sat down to eat, but jumped up to his feet as soon as he was done, bending and stretching to work the tension out of his back. 

“We’re losing too much ground.” Scott said finally, refusing to look up from his bowl. “I don’t know how much more we can do. If they can’t come up with a solution soon, it’s going to be too late. The town is already destroyed, and if we lose much more land, this whole area is going to be uninhabitable. I know we don’t give up, but I don’t know what else to do. We’re all far past our normal limits. If it were any other time, we would all be grounded right now. We’ve gotten most of the people out. What else is there to do?”

They all stared at him. It was so unlike their eldest brother to give up, that they didn’t even know what to say. He was right. There wasn’t much more they could do. Almost everyone was evacuated, and they were all exhausted. Why were they even still fighting?

“No!” Gordon exclaimed. “We can’t give up. Yes, we’ve gotten most of the people out, but there’s still more people out there. We can’t give up until it’s done. We won’t give up until it’s done. Because that’s not who we are. We’re not quitters. We don’t stop in the middle of a rescue. We don’t stop until it’s done. If we give up now, who even are we? No one will ever trust us again. No one will call us for rescue in their emergencies. Can you imagine the headlines? ‘International Rescue gives up the fight’ and ‘World emergency teams fight disaster without International Rescue.’ We will lose any credence we have. People will die, not just here, but in emergencies around the world because they no longer believe in International Rescue. We cannot stop now.”

Gordon pushed himself to his feet, stepping into the center of the circle. “Come on, guys. We’ve got this.” He stuck his uninjured hand out into the middle. “We’re International Rescue.”

Surprisingly, John was the next to join him, other hand wrapped around his aching ribs. “He’s right. People are counting on International Rescue. We can’t let them down. And we’re not just International Rescue. We’re Tracy’s.”

Virgil’s hand came down next. “Tracy’s don’t quit.”

Alan straightened up and joined them. “No we don’t. We can do this.”

The four of them looked at Scott. He rolled his eyes at them, then winced at the pain the action caused. If they weren’t so desperate, Virgil would have sent him to the medical tents as soon as he spotted his eye. As it was, as soon as this was over, Scott knew he would be hearing about it. Pushing himself heavily to his feet, he glared at his brothers. “What would I do without you guys?” He added his hand to the pile. “You’re right. We’re needed here. And we’ll stay until we’re not. Thunderbirds are Go.”

Virgil began to buckle himself back into his exo-suit, Alan already headed back to the cockpit of Thunderbird Two. Scott and Gordon climbed back behind the controls of their pods, John climbing in behind Scott and Virgil on top of Gordon’s. “I didn’t know we were a taxi service!” Gordon joked, firing up the engines and driving back into the fight. 

“No one told you? We just finished the name change. We’re no longer International Rescue. We are now International Taxi Service.” 

Gordon snorted at his space brother’s rare joke. “Then what are we still doing here, Scott? Let’s get these passengers to their destination!”

Just as they were arriving back at the front, their comms sparked to life. “Scott! Scott! I’ve got it. We have a s-s-solution. But I n-need to get it there as soon as possible.”

“Alan.” Scott ordered.

“Already on it.” In the distance, they could hear the powerful engines of Thunderbird Two cut off, and a moment later, One rose into the sky, quickly disappearing into the clouds. “Hold the line while I’m gone. We’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Energized by the promise of a solution, the rest of the brothers pushed onward. Dropping their passengers at the town, Scott and Gordon turned back into the woods. Virgil and John headed into the town, proceeding down the last street they had not yet checked. Most of the houses were flattened, with no one possibly still inside, but the last two on the street were still mostly standing. Virgil stopped at the first house, the doorway blocked by broken beams and chunks of rubble. “I’ve got this one. You head to the next one and make sure it’s clear.”

“F.A.B” John replied, ducking through the doorway. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside. He called out, squinting to make out what he could. “Hello? Is anyone here?” No one answered, but something told him to keep looking. “Hello?” The ceiling creaked, which he would have attributed to the earthquakes except for the fact that at the moment, the ground was blessedly still. The staircase was surprisingly still intact, and he clambered over the debris covering the steps. Once upstairs, he peered into doorways, looking for the source of the noise. The final door opened to what was clearly a little girl’s room, the pink bedspread covered in dust and the frames from the walls shattered on the ground. “Hello?” A small whimper from the far side of the bed answered him. He stepped over, boots crunching on glass, to find a little girl tucked into the corner, clutching a stuffed dog to her chest.

“Virgil, I’ve got someone. Little girl, around 5 years old. Minor lacerations, but appears otherwise unharmed. We’ll meet you outside so you can check her out.” John scooped the girl up into his arms as Virgil’s “F.A.B.” echoed from his comm. “Hi, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Emily.” She whispered, curling up into his chest. 

“Hi Emily. My name is John. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?” Holding her carefully, John headed back out of the building. Halfway down the stairs, another tremor hit the building, and the floorboards collapsed underneath them. As they fell, he twisted his body to take the brunt of the impact, but the collision took its toll on his already injured ribs. If they weren’t broken before, they certainly are now, he reflected, just as everything faded to black.

He awoke again a few seconds later, hearing Virgil’s frantic voice through the comms. “John? John, answer me!”

“I’m here.” He groaned. “We’re a little banged up, but we’re doing alright. Any chance you’re coming to get us?”

“I’m on my way. Stay put until I get there.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on moving.” As Virgil disappeared, he turned to the girl in his arms, who was beginning to tremble. “Hey Emily, are you doing okay?”

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. The stuffed dog in her arms was clutched even tighter than before.

“It’s okay. My brother will be here in just a minute, and then we can get out of here. Does that sound better?” She nodded shakily. “I like your dog. What’s his name?”

“Puppy.” She whispered.

“Puppy. That’s a great name! He seems like a very nice dog. May I pet him?” She solemnly held the dog out, and John gently pet the soft fluff, smoothing out his coat, brushing debris from the fibers. “He is a very nice dog! He must be very special.”

He managed to push himself up slightly, easing the pain of breathing with broken ribs, and she settled herself on his lap. “He is very special. My daddy got him for me, before he left for his trip. He said to keep him to remind me that he was coming home soon. I have lots of stuffies, but Puppy is my favorite.”

“That is special. Tell me about your other stuffies.”

She prattled on happily until Virgil poked his head around the wall of debris next to them. At the sight of the unfamiliar man, she clung tightly to John. He barely held back a groan, not wanting to scare her further, but he couldn’t hide the wince from his brother’s sharp eyes. “It’s okay Emily. This is my brother Virgil. He’s going to help us get out of here.” At the reassurance, she turned back to face Virgil, loosening her hold slightly, but not letting go. “I’m going to need you to go with him for just a minute. I can’t get up when you’re sitting on me. You’re much too big!”

She giggled, reaching for Virgil. He took her carefully, reaching out his other hand to pull his brother to his feet. As soon as John was standing, she reached for him again. “No sweetheart, you’re going to stay with me.” Virgil protested, hoping to keep his brother from any more injuries today. Her lip quivered, and her eyes began to fill with tears. 

“It’s okay, Virgil. I’ll take her.” She clambered happily into his arms. Virgil tried to protest, but one look from his brother stopped him. He appeared to have grown attached already, even in the short time they had been together. “I need you to hold very still for me though, Emily. If you wiggle too much, I might drop you. You’re too big to hold if you’re wiggly!” 

She giggled again, curling her arms around John’s neck. “I’m not that big. I’m only five.”

“You’re only five?” John gasped, feigning shock. “I though you were at least eight. Are you sure you’re not eight?”

She shook her head at him, holding tightly as they began to walk back towards the rescue planes. Each step was slow and painful, but he refused to let her see. She was counting on him. Virgil walked next to them, obviously chafing at not being allowed to help. “Why don’t you go check the next street, Virgil? I’ll be there in a moment.”

“There aren’t any-“

He was cut off by their comms crackling to life. “Guys, I’ve got something.”

“Kayo! It’s good to hear from you. Please tell me you found the source?” Scott answered the comm instantly, sounding a little out of breath.

“Yes. I think I found the device causing all the problems. It will take me a minute to disable it, but as soon as I can, we should be good.”

“That’s good to hear. Alan, how far are you?”

“Three minutes out, Scott. We should be there by the time the device is shut down. We already uploaded the formula for Brains’ solution to Thunderbird Two, so it should be ready when we get there. Give us five minutes, and we’ll be ready.”

“F.A.B.” Scott replied. “John and Virgil, how’s the town looking?”

“It’s empty.” Virgil replied. “We’re getting the last person out now. How’s it looking on your end?”

“Pretty clear. If we’re so close to shutting this down, I don’t think we need to search any more. We’ve got the danger zone clear.” 

“Think we could get a pick-up then? We’d both love to avoid the rescue planes if possible. They’re a little crowded. And I’d like to get back fast enough to fly Two.”

Alan’s protest came over the line, but he was ignored by his brothers. “You got it. We’ll be right there.”

John settled himself on a chunk of rubble to wait for their brothers, Virgil using the time to shrug off his exo-suit and fold it as small as he could. They could strap it to the outside of the pod, and he could ride inside. He rolled his shoulders, grateful to be rid of the extra weight. Scott and Gordon pulled up in a cloud of dust, and Virgil quickly loaded up the exo-suit before holding Emily while John climbed into the pod behind Scott. He passed her back as soon as his brother was settled, and clambered to sit behind Gordon. 

“Who is this?” Scott asked.

“This is Emily. I found her in the last house we searched, alone.”

Emily curled up into his arms, hiding her face from Scott. 

“Well, Emily. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Scott, and you must be a very brave girl.” At his words, she peeked out slightly, smiling. The pods spun off through the forest, following the track they had cleared on their first trip.

“The device is deactivated.” Kayo’s voice announced from their comms. 

“Yay!” “Alright!” “Well done!” The cheers echoed as they arrived back at the medical tents, Thunderbird One touching down at the same time. Everyone piled out of their vehicles, hurrying over to Thunderbird Two. As the platform raised them into the cockpit, Virgil hurried over to his seat. “Alan, you’re way over your flight hours, but you’re the only one still fit to fly, so you can copilot.” Alan rushed over the copilot’s seat, just barely beating Scott, who clearly wasn’t listening.

Brains was already in the capsule, configuring the chemical formulas for Two’s fire suppression system to adapt to his new formula. Gordon was down with him, his greater experience on Two helping to calm the nervous engineer. John had secured himself in one of the passenger seats, Emily still wrapped in his arms. There wasn’t time to find her parents, and John was not going to miss out on finally ending this fight. 

“Virgil, I can copilot.” Scott protested. “Alan’s flown too much today. He needs a break.”

“No way am I letting you copilot my ‘bird with your concussion. Sit down, Scott, and don’t even try to argue with me on this. You know I’m right.”

Scott wisely sat down and shut up.

The powerful VTOL engines of Two lifted them into the air, and they were off towards the sinkhole. Virgil flipped a switch, and the fire-suppression nozzles swung into place under the belly of the plane. “Alright, Brains. Let’s see if your solution works.” They flew slowly, covering the walls of the hole in a layer of foam, which grew and hardened almost instantly upon hitting the surface. 

“It’s working!” Alan cheered. The combination of the stabilizing solution and the lack of earthquakes was having the desired effect. The growth of the hole was finally stopped. As soon as the walls were fully coated, Virgil turned Two around and landed her back near the medical tents. They all piled out of the Thunderbird, relief mounting at the end of their task.

“Come on, Emily.” John said, lifting her up onto his shoulders. “We have somewhere we need to be.” The two of them headed towards the temporary shelters that had been erected. It didn’t take long before a woman came running out from the crowd. “Emily!” She cried. John swung the girl down from his shoulders, and her mother gathered her up into her arms. Not one to stick around for thanks, John disappeared as soon as they were distracted, and by the time they looked up, was safely out of sight. 

He rejoined his brothers and grandmother, who were standing gathered around the base of the Thunderbird. “Let’s get home.” Scott said. “The local authorities can handle it from here. We’re all well past our limits. As soon as we get home, I’m issuing mandatory down time for all of us for at least a week. Longer for some of you.” He looked pointedly at John and Gordon.

“No complaints here.” John replied, getting a “Same,” from his aquanaut brother. They all climbed back into Thunderbird Two, quickly settling back into their seats. Virgil took the pilot’s seat. Alan tried to claim his place as copilot again, but was ordered back. “Grandma is going to be my copilot on the way back. You’re too tired to fly, kiddo.” Alan pouted as he settled into one of the passenger seats, but fell asleep almost instantly. “We can remote pilot One back. None of you are setting foot out of this cockpit. John, can you handle it?”

“F.A.B.”

Scott tried to pull up the controls to his Thunderbird on his arm display, no matter what Virgil said, but found his system unresponsive.

“I’ve already locked you out, Scott. You have a concussion. You’re not flying anything, not even remotely.”

Scott glared at his younger brother, but the action made his head pound and he had to admit that his brothers might be right. He settled back into his seat, shutting his eyes as Two lifted into the air. It had been a very long rescue, but they were finally done. He let himself relax, letting the quiet conversation from Virgil and Grandma wash over him. The blue glow as John sent One rocketing ahead of them filled the cabin, and the quiet snores from Alan lulled him to sleep. 

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Disney Princess Gordon

For TagMiniBang2023 @tagminibang and isnpired by wonderful art by @tippystreasurebox @godsliltippy Thanks @gumnut-logic for the read through!!

Main inspiration is this wonderful art.

It all started with that awesome painting Virgil did of Gordon sitting on the seabed, feeding the little fish that surrounded him. Gordon’s eyes had lit up the moment Virgil had revealed it to him, drinking in all the little details.  The colours, the beams of light, the bubbles, the illusion of movement in a still image, and the absolute joy of the moment all captured with brushstrokes.

“It’s amazing, Virg!”  Gordon had exclaimed in wonder, wrapping his big brother in one of his most clingy squid hugs to show his gratitude.  “Thanks!”

Then the discussion had begun with the entrance of his eldest and youngest brothers.

“Ooh, hey, cool painting.” Alan’s eyes wandered the expanse of canvas, trying to take it all in.

“Is this what you’ve been working on all this past week or so?”

Virgil nodded, and Gordon could see that little flicker of self-conscious doubt creep into his expression.  It was something that they all had, but it was only noticeable if you knew to look for it – that little niggling need for big brother approval.  The delighted pride that had sparkled in those deep brown eyes just moments ago faded momentarily until Scott’s hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder, and that famous dimpled smile spread across the eldest’s face as he studied the artwork.

“It’s fantastic, Virgil.  Really captures a moment that is so very Gordon.  I feel like I’m there with him.”

And the sparkle was back, the shoulders a little straighter, self-doubt chased away with a few words.

“Kinda reminds me of something, though.”  Alan stood with his head slightly tilted to one side, one hand reaching up to scratch absently at the back of his neck as he regarded the canvas.

He paused so long in silence the others had all begun picking out little details they liked, naming the types of fish, remarking on the colours and shading, then –

“He looks like a Disney princess!” Alan finally blurted out.

And suddenly they had all seen it.  The similarity to Snow White or Sleeping Beauty surrounded by woodland creatures, or Cinderella with the birds and mice. That was when John had joined the conversation by helpfully providing examples from the internet, holoprojected for comparison.

At the time Gordon had laughed along with his brothers.  After all, it was just harmless, good-natured fun, and it did kind of look a little like some of those old, animated movie scenes. 

“Are you suggesting Virgil should have given me a mermaid tail like Ariel?” he’d said with a laugh when images from the Little Mermaid were called up.

“Nah,” Scott had countered.  “You’re not a mermaid who wishes she could live on land, you’re a human who wishes he could live underwater.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alan chimed in.  “Like a reverse Little Mermaid.”

There had been more laughter, but little else said about it and they had all drifted away to other tasks soon after that.  Gordon had quickly put it out of his mind. Which is why it surprised him to now find himself startled awake by a rather vivid nightmare.  The dream had apparently made him restless enough to fall out of bed.  Head first.

[More inspirational art]

It took a moment for him to mentally orientate before he could physically right himself into a sitting position.  Heart still pounding, head beginning to throb and a brain full of images of a gigantic, tentacled monster with an evil grin and yellow glowing eyes who wanted too high a price in exchange for the ability to live underwater permanently.

[And another]

The dream itself was fading, but the fear of ending up “sleeping with the fishes” instead of living amongst them still gripped him tightly.

Gordon was sure Lady Penelope had been a part of his dream, and that somehow the deal he was making with KrakenHood involved leaving his brothers to be with her.  He almost called her to discuss his weird bad dream with her, wondering if she could help him makes sense of what it was all about and where it had sprung from.  Then he remembered the painting and the ensuing discussion the afternoon before.

He thought it seemed an odd thing to have sparked a nightmare like that.  And while he tried to put it all out of his mind as he climbed back into bed and tried to get back to sleep, that proved easier said than done.

The whole Disney princess discussion was replaying itself in his mind.  Over and over.  Snow White.  Sleeping Beauty. Cinderella. The Little Mermaid.  They’d all been mentioned and Gordon had laughed along with his brothers at the comparisons.  He hadn’t been bothered by it.  Or had he?

Something wasn’t sitting right with him, but he couldn’t put a finger on what exactly.  So, despite trying to put the whole thing out of his mind, he ended up spending another couple of sleepless hours tossing and turning.

When the glow of pre-dawn light summoned the dawn chorus the next morning Gordon roused himself and made his way down to the pool.  He stood in the shadows watching the sunrise paint the sky and barely registered Scott taking off for his morning run.  There was no greeting, so Gordon figured Scott hadn’t seen him.

His morning laps were lazier than normal – a contrast to an unrested and still churning mind.  He’d completed a little over half the normal number of laps by the time Scott returned and tossed a “Morning Fish!” in his direction.

Gordon returned the greeting with his normal chirpiness.  Or so he thought.

By the time Gordon had climbed out of the pool, made a half-hearted attempt at towelling off and headed into the kitchen, Scott was waiting for him at the kitchen table.  The waiting wasn’t particularly unusual, but the fact he was seated definitely was.  A glass of Gordon’s favourite breakfast juice was slid across the table, indicating a summons to sit.

“What’s up, Squid?”

Okay, so maybe his big brother was more observant than he’d like to admit right now.  It wasn’t going to stop Gordon from deflecting.

“The usual.  What’s up with you?”

An eyebrow was raised in response.

Gordon took a long sip of his drink in an effort to say nothing more until Scott spoke again.  This would not have worked with Virgil – he knew how to wait until you couldn’t stand it anymore and had to risk incriminating yourself by filling the horrible expanse of silence.  John was almost as bad but was more likely to use unavoidable questions rather than complete silence. But Scott didn’t have that level of patience, and Gordon knew he wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

“Really?” Right on cue.  Less than 30 seconds.  “You’re going to avoid the question and pretend I can’t see the dark circles under your eyes?  Next I suppose you’re going to tell me I imagined the fact that you were out by the pool earlier than normal, but too distracted to set your normal lap count and timer?”

Damn!  Gordon’s gaze fell to the table and his finger trailed through the little ring of water left by the condensation from his glass.

There was an implication that John might have had a word to Scott, a little heads-up that Gordon’s routine was a little off today.  Deep down Gordon knew that Scott probably didn’t need the tip-off, though.

“I’m fine, Scott.” He knew his slumped shoulders said otherwise.  “Just a bit distracted, like you said.”

“Something on your mind?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

Gordon didn’t need to look up from his condensation finger painting to know that piercing blue eyes were intently studying him.

“Distractions that cause a sleepless night can hardly be considered nothing.”  Scott’s hand reached across to Gordon’s, stilling the fidgeting.

Gordon heaved a sigh and raised his gaze to meet his brother’s.  “I had a really weird dream and it got me thinking.  That’s all.”

“Oh?”

How one tiny word could convey so much Gordon would never know, but that single uttered syllable actually translated to “Go on, I’m listening.  Spill your guts, Gordon.  I won’t judge you, I’m here for you and I’m not gonna let up until you talk to me, so you might as well just get it over with.”  Or words to that effect.

He wondered if it was a big brother thing.  John and Virgil could do it too.  That and the eyebrow thing.  They could all interrogate you using just their eyebrows.

Gordon resigned himself to his fate and sat up a little straighter, steeling himself for an awkward conversation.

“I dreamed I was in some kind of Little Mermaid AU, or whatever.  Like Alan said yesterday.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Gordon, if anything we said yesterday bothered you –“

“No!  It didn’t, I swear.” Gordon held a hand up in a Rescue Scout salute, then let it drop. “At least, I didn’t think it did at the time, but . . .”

The bright-eyed rush to reassure Scott that no offence had been taken ebbed away with a shrug and another sigh.

“I don’t really know what’s bugging me about it.”

“The painting?”

“No, I love the painting! It’s awesome.  Virgil did such an amazing job with it.  It looks kind of like I feel when I’m down there with the fish, you know?”

Scott’s crooked smile in reply suggested that he did, at least in some way know what Gordon was trying to say.

“He’ll be glad to hear that.  So, was it the way we compared you to a princess?”

“No . . .?” the uncertainty etched itself into Gordon’s frown.  “Not really.  Not if you mean misgendering, because I didn’t take it that way.  None of that matters to me.”  A wicked grin formed, and an eyebrow quirked upward.  “Besides, I’m not the only Tracy boy who’s dressed up as a princess on occasion!”

Scott’s own smile broke containment and became a chuckle.

“I think . . .” realisation dawning, the thoughts barely formed before Gordon spoke the words, “maybe it’s more about the specific princesses that were mentioned.”

“What about them?”

“They don’t fit me,” the words came faster now, the thought more fully formed.  “I mean, I’m not them. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella.  I don’t fit those stories.  Not even the Little Mermaid.”

“Gordon –“

“Maybe that’s what the dream was?  My mind trying to fit me into Ariel’s story or something, and realising that’s just not the right Disney Princess for me to identify with.”

“You don’t have to identify with a Disney Princess.”  Scott’s brow furrowed before the confusion gave way to a frustrated eye-roll and a facepalm rolled into one.  “Why would you even put this much thought into it?

Gordon shrugged again, but this time the action was full of his regular jauntiness and accompanied by his trademark mischievous grin.  He no longer felt weighed down by his thoughts, knowing he was onto something.

“I dunno.  I kind of like the comparison, I guess.  I’ve just gotta find the right . . .“ Gordon’s eyes widened, lit with a fire of inspiration that had Scott’s Gordon’s-bright-ideas alarm bells ringing for a moment.

The two were so engrossed in the discussion, Virgil’s quiet entry into the room went unnoticed.  He paused in his journey toward the coffee pot, appearing to attempt to process what he was witnessing.

“So, which princess are you then?”

Gordon stood, striking a dramatic pose as he proudly sang “I am Moana!”

~~~

That evening, sitting alone in his room going over some recent statistics on the population and general health of various marine species he’d been helping to monitor, a piece of paper was quietly slipped under his door.

Wandering over and picking it up he immediately recognised it as a page from one of Virgil’s sketch books, and the image depicted on it had his face splitting into a wide grin.

[One more!]

I hope this little fic does the wonderful art justice.

I did want to add a little more - Gordon's lists of similarities and differences to each princess mentioned - but time got away from me, and I think the story flows okay without those. But if anyone's curious . . . let me know! :)

[tagminibang]

Eeeeyyyyy I pulled @the-original-sineater for ze @tagminibang 2023 ! Inspired/based on their charming story "Tradition".

[tagminibang]

Nope.

Written for the TAG Minibang for @tippystreasurebox for this picture

Enjoy! CW- swearing

Legs on the bed, head and shoulders on the floor, a blanket tangled around him and arms akimbo, Gordon just had to take a moment to appreciate how very badly the simple act of ‘get out of bed’ had gone. This was spectacular, even for him. 

“Um… you okay?” 

“Yep.” 

A twist, a grunt and a thud got him fully on the floor, where he lay for a moment to contemplate the various fish posters he’d tacked onto the ceiling when they’d first moved onto the Island, then Gordon levered himself up onto his elbows (turning as he did so so that he wouldn’t smack his head on the underside of the bed frame, since adding a concussion to things Wouldn’t Help.) 

Alan was still standing in the doorway, looking at him with wide eyes. “Uh… are you supposed to be able to twist like that? Do I need to get Virgil or Grandma?”    

“Eh, it’s fine,” Gordon waved off his concern with a lazy grin, sitting back on his hands. “I’m getting the bad stuff out of the way early.” 

“O-kay.” Alan glanced towards the lounge, gnawing on his lower lip, then looked back at him, clearly weighing up if he could actually leave him alone or not. 

“Alan, I’m fine.” Gordon popped up onto his feet with a jaunty little flourish to prove it. “See? I’ll be down in a minute, ‘kay?” 

“Uh, if you say so.” Alan gave him one more worried look, then trotted off. 

Gordon waited until the sound of the teen’s footsteps had faded and gave in to the urge to rub the shoulder that’d taken the brunt of the fall. “I’m gonna be feeling that one tomorrow,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the bedding with deep suspicion. A judicious poke with a toe proved it hadn’t come to life during the night so it could grab his ankle or something when he got up, nor had it somehow developed an armature that EOS could control remotely as a prank, so he decided to chalk it up to ‘those weird things that happen sometimes’ and head downstairs for his morning swim. 

0o0o0

The morning swim went swimmingly, pun fully intended, and feeling a pleasant level of burn in his muscles, Gordon pulled himself out and let himself drip dry a little in the warm morning sunshine before committing to towelling off and heading inside for breakfast. 

“Hm… Scott’s not back yet..” Gordon looked up at the distant figure on one of the running tracks. “I could get some diving practice in before he’s back and we can help each other with cool downs and have coffee together. Yeah, there’s an idea.”

Well pleased with his idea, Gordon first put in some dives from the lower board. Nothing fancy, just a good, solid practice of the basics. A dozen-odd dives completed, Gordon climbed out of the water again and began to ascend the ladder for the tall diving board.

He knew their two diving boards well; how they flexed, the reverb of his feet on them and the rattle as he bounced to get the spring to launch him into the dive. He’d done this so many times he could almost do this in his sleep. 

One- Climb up to the high diving board. Check.

Two- Take a breath. Check. 

Three- Visualise the dive and plan it out: step, step, step, bounce, arch, summersault, stretch out, hands clasped over the head, brace, plunge. Check. 

Four- Go. 

The climb went according to plan. 

So did the breath. 

Visualising went perfectly as always. 

Unfortunately the ‘go’ did not. 

Step, step, step, bounce turned into step, step, step, CRACK, drop, ohshitohshitohshit!, twist-arch-hands-brace-plunge. 

Splitting the water like an axe instead of the intended knife, Gordon immediately swam away instead of up to the surface, hoping to avoid any falling wreckage. Lungs burning (because he didn’t get a full breath before he fell), he breached the surface, flailing like a particularly inept whale rather than his usual dolphin-like grace. Breathing hard he clung to the side of the pool and looked back over at the diving board. “What… it… it’s snapped?” 

He’d barely had time to process the sight of the forlorn diving board, folded at its fulcrum like a wilted plant, when pounding feet preceded Scott’s arrival on the scene, all Thunderbird One and Frightened Big Brother, despite the sweaty running gear. “Gordon, are you okay!?” 

“I’m fine, seriously, Scott, put me down!” Gordon protested in vain as the eldest reached down and hauled him out of the water. He pulled free and turned this way and that to show the (understandably) worried Big Brother that he was indeed intact, despite the diving board’s best attempt. “I’m not hurt, see?” 

“What happened?” Scott demanded, looking between him and the offending piece of equipment. 

“It broke.” Gordon very deliberately took a deep, calming breath in the hopes that Scott would mimic him. “It’s probably just a combination of environmental factors. I'm gonna shower, have a coffee and take it apart so Brains can figure out what went wrong. Scott, I’m fine.” 

Slowly, Scott let himself come down from the panic of seeing one of his brothers unexpectedly in danger. “Okay.” He spared the broken diving board one last glare, took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, sounds good.” He looked back to Gordon. “You go shower, I’ll get a fresh pot of coffee on.” 

“Great, back in five.” Gordon chirped at him. 

0o0o0

Showering, shaving and running a comb through his hair was blissfully uneventful, and he was very pleased when his wardrobe didn’t try to eat him or something. 

Trapaising back downstairs, he was greeted by the sight of Virgil camped out in his usual spot at the breakfast bar with his giant mug of coffee but significantly more awake than normal as Scott finished briefing him on the diving board’s attempted attack on him. 

“I’ll help you with the board as soon as I’ve finished this,” Virgil said by way of greeting as Gordon slid onto the stool next to him. 

“Thanks Virg.” Gordon helped himself to a piece of fruit out of the bowl in front of the middle brother. “Any theories?” 

“Metal fatigue. I know both diving boards are our own design, but we’ve got rocket exhaust, vibration, chlorine and salt spray as well as the occasional tropical storm, and we had earthquakes too when The Hood had his little ransom going on.” Virgil took a hefty gulp of coffee. “I’ll know more once I get some samples under the microscope.” 

“Good to know.” Gordon snagged another chunk of fruit and thanked Scott with a nod and a thumbs up (since his mouth was full) when the eldest placed a bullet-proof coffee in front of him. 

Looking back on it, the hollow, off-note sound of the cup on the table should have warned him. 

As it was he bantered with Virgil and Scott for a bit first, regaling them with his morning’s tussle with the blankets, then reached for his mug to take a gulp of the now lukewarm coffee…only for the cup to split clean in half down a hidden crack, spilling coffee all down his front.

Gordon stared at the coffee stain spreading through his shirt, then looked down at the ruins of his mug. “Okay, that’s it. Nope. I’ve had enough.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Universe, I have gotten the message! I’m going back to bed and starting today over again.”

“You want one of us to walk you up there, just in case the stairs decide to attack you?” Virgil was teasing, but there was genuine concern there. 

“You know, I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” Gordon snarked back. He was tempted to flounce off (as well as anyone could flounce in deck shoes), but he’d tempted fate enough for today. 

If anyone noticed that he took each step carefully and kept a hand on the rail at all times, they were kind enough to not comment on it.

[tagminibang]

The Wrong Tracy

I was lucky enough to get the incredibly talented @chenria for my artist. Which meant I was spoiled for choice. So I went for something simple.

You can find the image HERE

So, for your reading pleasure, please enjoy The Wrong Tracy.

...

Alan checked his watch again, it was five minutes later than the last time he checked it. Which still put it at later than it should have been. He and Gordon had split up; Alan to the panel on the upcoming Cavern Quest movie and Gordon to run the gauntlet of the convention’s dealers room. It was never too early to buy holiday or birthday gifts. But they’d agreed to meet up here by the convention center coffee shop at four. It was nearly five now and the center was getting ready to close down for the evening.

The only reason Scott had let Alan come to the convention was the promise that Gordon would stick to Alan like glue. Gordon might show the flighty surfer boy to the world, but when he made a promise, it was carved out of adamantine. Alan stood on his toes to check the tide of people leaving the center, looking for a flash of sunshine headed his way. He sank back down and looked at his watch again, five o’clock. Gordon was now an hour late and Alan was officially worried.

He took a deep breath and activated the comm in his watch. “John? I’ve got a situation.” 

-Scene Break-

Gordon swam back to consciousness and regretted it.

‘ow.'

“… you said the blonde. I grabbed the blonde!”

‘Ohhh… ugh. If the world could stop spinning? Please?’

“He’s the wrong blonde!”

‘Please shut up. Or at least be less loud.’

“You said the short one! He’s the short one!

More synapses were firing in sequence. ‘If you aren’t going to shut up, could you kill me? Please?’

“You were supposed to grab the kid!”

He’d had concussions that felt better than this. What in the Abyss had he been doing? He tried to sit up, but only managed to roll onto his back.

“He was the only short blonde!”

‘Ow. Please shut up. Also, I’m not short. I’m fun sized.’

“Now I gotta rewrite the whole note. Dumbass!”

“Unnh.” He’d made the mistake of trying to open his eyes. The light stabbed into his retinas.

“Hey! He’s awake.”

“Thank God! I toldja not to use so much. You coulda killed the kid with that much.”

‘Who the Hell was - ALAN!’ He tried to sit up again only for his world to become a tilt-a-whirl and he collapsed back down with a moan.

A pinkish blur appeared above him. “Hey, you gonna live?”

“You better fucking hope he lives, we can’t ransom a body!” The first blur was replaced by another and something dark and pink moved at him. “Don’t try anything and we’ll all get what we want.” The blur vanished, then there was a slammed door that made his head ring all the more.

‘Gordo, what have you gotten yourself into?’

Turns out, what he was in, was a mess. From what he could glean from Blurs One and Two, he’d been kidnapped by mistake. ‘Well, better me than Alan. God, Alan, he’ll be going off the deep end.’ He tried to winch his eyes open, only to have the world spin again. He closed them with a groan and held as still as he could. 

‘Scott must be going spare, when he isn’t trying to keep Alan together. Virgil and John will be alternating between keeping Scott, Alan, and Grandma calm and burning down the world to find me. Kayo and’, he shuddered,‘Penny, will be turning the world into kindling for Virgil and John to set fire to.’

Once the world - or his head, he wasn’t sure which, finally settled down, he tried to take stock.  Arms restrained behind his back, headache the size of Two, and his mouth felt like a sheep died in it. Well, he couldn’t do much about the headache or his mouth, he might be able to do something about his hands.

Sudden motions were not his friend and he had to wait several times for the world to come back to true, whatever they’d used on him had some nasty carry-on effects. But he finally pulled his legs up his chest and into a diving pike. It took some work but he got his hands over his butt and up the length of his legs until he had them in front of him. He waited for the world to calm down again before he took a look at what was holding his hands and swore softly. These were actual handcuffs, real-honest-to-god antiques. All the little tricks he had wouldn’t work on these and he was out of the habit of keeping bobby pins on his person. Well, there was a way to get out of them, but it was going to take a bit and it was going to hurt. But first he had to get upright. 

He rolled to his knees and waited for the dizziness to stop. It wasn’t nausea, he could handle that. But his inner ear telling his brain he was swinging from a trapeze was something else. Once it had faded he stayed on his knees, standing would be best, but he wasn’t that sure of his balance. Right now it was a race against time as he twisted the swivels looking for the resistance point and working that. This wasn’t a skill he’d picked up from Parker and the older man’s ‘mis-spent youth’. No, this came from days of binge watching old vids and documentaries about escapology after the Accident. A lot of the movements had been good therapy for working his fingers and hands. He kept at it long enough to make his wrists and shoulders scream at him before the links yielded and one of them snapped.

He fell off his knees and worked on soothing his wrists. Once the world had settled down again he took his first good look at the room he was in and a slow, unhumorous smile broke across his face. “Oh, you guys are so going to regret going after my little brother.”

-Scene Break-

“I swear on the memories of Shi Shen and Naburimannu, I am microchipping the lot of you!” 

Scott winced at the venom in John’s voice. They all had their stress tells: he got loud,Virgil got clipped when speaking, Alan’s voice squeaked, Gordon got quiet, Kayo switched to Malay, and John swore by astronomers. The older they were, the more upset he was. Scott knew those names were from the 4th BCE or older. John was not a happy camper, but then again, none of them were. However;  “I don’t think -”

“Say one more word Scooter and I’m making yours a radio collar!”

Scott’s mouth shut with a click, they were all on their last nerves. The situation of a cruise ship floundering on the Pacific side of the Panama Canal had come in seconds before Alan’s slightly panicked call that Gordon was missing. The rescue came first, but there was an extra edge of worry to it.

Alan’s hands-off security team became hands-on and whisked the teen from the gaming convention the pair had been attending to a safe location. Gordon had, once again, declined a ‘babysitting team’, which was one more reason for John to be going on about microchipping them. Not to mention the smother-storm that would hit once Kayo and Lady P surfaced from the mission they were on. 

The ransom demand had come in the form of a plain envelope left on the front desk of Tracy Tower in New York. End of day meant too many people in the lobby which obscured who had left it. The contents had made Scott’s blood run cold when his assistant Keisha sent him the images: a still picture of a hopefully unconscious Gordon and a printed note demanding five million in large bills. 

The demand for paper money had thrown Scott until Virgil pointed out it was virtually untraceable now. Which was part of the problem: banks didn’t have that sort of cash reserve on hand anymore, time zones and Thunderbirds meant it was a mix of currencies, but it had chewed into the eight hour time limit given them. Not that there was any way to contact the kidnappers, the note only had the amount, the time limit, a location for leaving the money, and the promise of sending Gordon back in pieces if they didn’t. That last one had them all on edge. There were no identifiers on the note of any kind, the printer that had created it was a low cost one of which millions had been produced, rendering it just as unfindable, they had nothing to go on. Just the time limit and a location. 

Which was one of the reasons Scott appeared to be alone as he approached the derelict building on New York’s Eastside. The shifting and slowing of climate change hadn’t come soon enough to keep Jamaica Bay from becoming part of the Atlantic and introducing the city to the joys of sunshine flooding. There hadn’t been time to chip him, but unless they stripped him naked, there were enough trackers in his clothes to mollify John. Scott’s own security team had gone in before him to make sure this wasn’t a trap for an even bigger payoff. Personally Scott wished for his iR suit, the amount of sharp, rusty debris laying around made him glad he was up to date on his tetanus.

He was grateful for both the light pollution and the nearly full moon as he made his way across a slightly damp parking lot and into the worn out building. He readjusted the strap slung over his chest, five million in large bills made for a heavy and bulky bag. “Hello?” He felt like an idiot, but he had to get their attention somehow.  The creaking of the building and the soft slopping of the tide were his only answers. “I’m going to go in deeper,” he said for both his security team and John’s sanity.

“Be careful Scott.”

Scott rolled his eyes a little but John was just as worried as the rest of them. “Careful as I can be.” This had been a nice building once, either offices or apartments, possibly a mix of both, but now it was just a waterlogged disaster. He wove his way through the detritus of decades from people not coping with the fact the world was changing around them out of the lobby and into one of the branching hallways. “Hello?”

This time there was the soft susurration of voices to answer him.

“Mr. Tracy, we have you in sight.”  Tim, the head of Scott’s security team said in his ear. That was a comfort. There had been a rather heated argument about whether or not Scott should go armed or not. The compromise was unarmed but the security team would be and would have eyes on him at all times. 

“Copy.” Scott moved forward again, this time deliberately hitting the metal frame of a chair to send it screeching into a wall. He rocked on to the balls of his feet and waited.

“Scott?” 

He bolted, hurtling over obstacles like he was back in track, not caring if he stayed in sight of the security team or not; Gordon’s voice had been thin and weak, either because of distance or something else. Something else Scott wasn’t willing to contemplate right at this moment. “Gordon!” He slowed down as he came up on a rectangle of light splashing against the hallway wall. “Gordon!”

“Scott! In here!”

Scott slipped the duffel strap over his head, fifty kilos of paper made for an excellent weapon. He ignored the voices in his comm bud as he threw the bag in first as a distraction and dove through the door, angling to one side. 

“I am DAMN glad to see you.” 

Scott rolled to his feet and took in the room. It might have been a store room once, with shelving on three walls, but all Scott cared about was the man leaning up against the back wall. Ruffled, a bit battered, with a puffy bandage high on one cheek. Who was grinning at him. Scott did a quick scan of the area, before doing a double take at the two bodies, currently laying under the ransom bag. 

“Don’t worry about the Tweedles, they’re down for the count.” Gordon held up an arm. “Help me up?” 

Scott moved to do that just as the security team appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Tracy!” Tim’s voice was a mix of worry and annoyance.

“Scott?” John’s voice was tight with concern. 

“We’re fine.” Scott told the room at large. “The kidnappers are over there.” Which Scott promptly ignored in favor of pulling Gordon upright. Gordon clung to his arm and kept his eyes shut for a moment. “Gordon?” Worry reared its head again, ready to sink fangs back into Scott’s heart.

“I’m mostly okay. Whatever they gave me keeps making me dizzy.” Honey brown eyes opened back up. “I’ll answer everything I can later, I just want out of here.”

Scott brought Gordon into a careful hug. “You bet. Let’s go home.” 

[tagminibang]

Fine-tuning

My entry for 2023's @tagminibang, for @jbarkerstargazer. I thought this crochet doll was absolutely adorable and just had to write a little scene about it.

The room is filled with bright white light. Too bright.

It takes a moment for EOS to adjust the amount of light allowed through her camera lenses, expertly hidden in brown glass eyes. Then she starts a basic diagnostics test, running the code in the background of her programme.

A blurry figure appears above her, quickly coming into focus. Pale skin, with green eyes and bright red hair, the colours at least thirteen point four percent more vivid than the security cameras she usually sees through.

Identification: John Glenn Tracy.

“How do you feel, EOS?” he asks, with his customary closed-mouth smile. “Do you like it?”

“I do not detect any faults,” she replies, through the speakers on Brains’ computer.

“With your mouth?” John asks, one eyebrow quirking upwards.

EOS opens her mouth and uses the speaker embedded inside the mobile unit’s neck. The lips and jaw move to simulate speech.

“I do not detect any faults,” she says, as she quickly rifles through her diagnostic data. “Internal diagnostic tests are coming back clear.”

“That’s a r-relief,” comes a quiet murmur on the other side of the room. Brains. He is approximately two metres north-northwest of her current location. Through the camera on his computer, EOS can see that he is sitting at his desk, though he’s well out of sight of the portable server unit.

“Looks like the mouth movements are still a little out of whack,” another voice says. Virgil, strolling into view with a cup clasped in his hands. He leans over the portable unit, squinting, and EOS briefly analyses the chemical compounds the nasal sensor has picked up: it is ninety-eight percent certain that Virgil is drinking coffee. “I’ll put it on the list.”

“Thanks, Virge,” John replies, before turning his attention back to EOS. “Let’s get started.”

The tests are relatively simple. They’ve run through them several times before, slowly improving the unit’s agility, dexterity, and processing power, with MAX carefully recording footage to be analysed at a later date. Walking, running and stair-climbing to start, before moving on to exercises requiring more agility. Afterward, she lifts and carries differing weights, before working on various dexterity exercises, including jigsaw puzzles, a particularly large Rubik’s cube, and- worst of all - physical computer keyboards.

The first attempts at creating a mobile control unit had been fraught with disappointment, either too small for all of the necessary components for full processing power or too bulky for easy movement. Things had looked up considerably once Brains had managed to use some of his nano-tech research to fit all the necessary hardware inside a shell largely designed by Virgil.

There are many good reasons for International Rescue to utilise a mobile unit for EOS. For example, it can allow her to access computers that are not connected to the Internet or other networks. But perhaps the most important reason is that robots could be deployed - and retrieved - in situations that a human could not. Where John and his brothers likely would not survive extended periods of time in a frozen tundra, for example, EOS or MAX could survive indefinitely. While MAX is undoubtedly an excellent and indispensable member of the team, there are some situations in which EOS could better assist in a rescue.

“All right,” John ticks off the final box on their checklist while Virgil picks through a pile of boxes near the desk. “Dexterity looks good.”

“I think the knee and wrist joints n-need a little t-tweaking,” Brains adds, already scribbling on a familiar set of blueprints. “I should have them r-ready by s-Sunday.”

“Oh, good,” EOS says. “Does this mean I can go back to Five, now?”

“Almost,” John says. “There’s just one more thing. Penelope sent over a gift for you. It’s a mock-up of your uniform.”

A uniform isn’t necessary, since EOS’ external chassis already looks like a blue vest and leggings. She doesn’t have any flesh to require protection.

“It’s a psychological thing. You know, to welcome you to the team,” Virgil explains, having found the box he was looking for. It’s large, but shallow. He sets it on the workbench, motioning for EOS to open it.

“I am already part of the team,” EOS replies, primly. Nevertheless, she opens the box: such things are important to humans.

The uniform consists of a dress in International Rescue blue with white trim, plus a matching set of gloves and long boots, white with blue trim. There are several large floral yellow details on the belt, gloves and boots, as well as on a hairband and something that looks like a blue necklace. The yellow is bright, presumably chosen to compliment the brown of her eyes and the green streak in her hair.

EOS briefly calculates how much time Penelope must have spent creating these clothes. The answer is ‘a lot’.

“The yellow d-details house your utility p-pouches and external comms,” Brains explains. “D-do you want to try it on and see if it fits?”

Surely they know that it will - either Brains or Virgil must have given Lady Penelope the measurements for the mobile unit. Perhaps this is another ‘psychological thing’, as Virgil put it.

“Yes,” EOS answers. She does her best to copy the way John smiles: closed lips, with the corners quirking up.

MAX bleeps loudly, motioning with one arm: a reminder that he has a regular photograph setting for his camera function?

“Good idea, MAX. I’m sure Lady P-Penelope will want to see photos of her handiwork,” Brains says. “EOS, let us know when you are ready.”

MAX bleeps again, a cheerful noise that can really only mean one thing.

Welcome to the team.

[tagminibang]

@tagminibang

For @soniabigcheese // @followthepaintbrush

Based on this piece of art!

Something about this piece and the way they are looking at each other so desperately reminded me so strongly of that one Fitzsimmons scene in Agents of Shield, so this is partially based on that as well. I had so much fun looking through all your art @soniabigcheese​, and I hope you enjoy!

“Hey, Pen?”

Penelope lifted her head towards the man who occupied the small space with her.

His face was illuminated by the small amount of light that came from his torch and her compact, and Penelope could see the harsh bruising that covered his left temple.

“Yeah?” Her voice sounded scratchy to her ears, which was a result of all the dust that had kicked up around them, and the coughing fit that had followed.

“When Virgil gets here, he’ll only be able to take one of us up at a time,” Gordon explained, though she already expected as much. “You should go up first.”

“What? No, it should be you.” Penelope couldn’t believe her ears, and she walked across the small space to stand across from him. She had already resigned herself to the fact she would go up second, and for good reason. “You’re hurt!”

Keep reading

[tagminibang]

Snakes on a Thunderbird

For @godsliltippy for TAG MiniBang 2023 (@tagminibang)

Inspired by this adorable piece of Fishtank art here. (@tippystreasurebox)

Trigger warning for snakes. Also brief mention of animal neglect, plus some minor whump and peril.

As Virgil went through his post-flight checks, Gordon twisted and revelled in the several satisfying pops his back made. 

“Oh god, that is so much better! Want me to crack yours for ya, Virg?”

There was a grumble of disapproval from his right. “I’ll pass thanks. Hearing yours was an experience in itself. In fact…” his brother reached over and snagged the small metal box Gordon had been carrying on lap, “...perhaps I’d better take that before you do yourself any more damage.”

Gordon rolled his eyes and snatched the box back with perhaps just a little too much snap.

“Right Virgil. ‘Cos hauling passengers and crates off of a sinking ship was fine, but this last hundred yards to the rescue centre is where things gets really tricky(!)”

The rescue hadn’t really been all that bad physically. The crates in question had been lighter than expected, though that was because apparently properly feeding the various animals inside had clearly not been much of a priority for the smugglers on board; about as high as safety and ship maintenance had been. And although Gordon’s back was definitely starting to twinge a bit now, he’d have been a lot happier to be a lot achier if it meant those poor creatures had been treated right.

Well, whatever. He’d stayed professional. …Mostly. That Johnny hadn’t mentioned his little brother's prolonged blue streak ricocheting over the comms was likely a sign that he’d felt the same way.

The fact the GDF were already briefed and waiting with an arrest warrant the second they’d touched down was probably another one.

A yellow light broke through his thoughts and dragged him back to the present. He batted the medi-scan away with a grunt.

“Would you quit it, Virg? I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gordon opened his mouth, ready to deliver a witty yet devastating retort, but then thought wiser of it. Better to just let the big guy get it all out of his system. He'd only worry otherwise, and a worried Virgil was a pain in the backside, especially with the flight home and debrief to get through. He closed his mouth and submitted to the inevitable with a huff.

Virgil for his part stayed quiet too as he completed the scan; once it was done, he continued to look Gordon over with the practised eye of both a medic and a big brother.

“Well, Doctor Virgil? Are you done? Can we go now?”

Another moment of scrutiny. Then, “You know this was a good day, right?”

Dammit. The big green angst-detector strikes again.

Gordon really didn’t want to talk about it now.

“Whatever you say, bro.”

“I mean it,” Virgil insisted. “You’ve said it yourself - this shelter is the best. They've got the facilities and the expertise; they’ll take good care of all these guys, big and small. And the GDF will make sure the people that did this get what's coming to them."

“Uh-huh.”

"Gordy, the good guys won today. Take the win.”

Honestly it didn’t feel like a win. Not even a tiny one. The memory of all those sad little eyes was too raw. It was going to take a lot for it to fade into the background, and he just didn't have the energy right now. All he wanted was to get everything unloaded, go home, swim ‘til he couldn't think anymore and then crawl into bed and sleep for 12 hours.

"Virg, could we please do the pep talk another time? The shelter staff are waiting for us."

A little frown appeared on his brother's brow, but he sighed and nodded.

"Are they all okay in there?” Virgil asked instead, nodding at the box balancing on Gordon’s dashboard. 

It was an obvious change of subject, but a welcome one. Gordon gave the portable incubator a protective little pat.

“Should be. I candled them earlier and they look good. Not pipped yet, but I think it should be soon.”

He blinked as a sudden thought occurred.

“Actually," he said as he opened the incubator lid and retrieved the covered tray inside, "I’m just gonna check they’ve not been turned mid-flight. I’ve been holding them steady the whole way over, but you never know.”

“I thought you were supposed to turn eggs?” said Virgil with a hint of confusion. He leaned across to watch what Gordon was doing. "Grandpa said it stopped the embryo getting stuck."

“That’s for birds. Snakes are different. All the little veins and stuff are fragile; you flip the egg, the umbilical cord tears away and they die.” Gordon gingerly lifted the lid and peered inside. “Of course, these guys are almost ready to hatch so I don’t know how much of that appli-”

The rest of his thought died as he lifted the lid and took a look inside.

A beat.

“What?”

“Erm, not sure. Hang on a sec…” Gordon gently slid the eggs to one side of the tray and started rummaging very carefully in the sandy substrate below.

"Where are you?" he muttered softly.

"Where's what?" Virgil quickly jumped to his feet, unease radiating from every pore.

"One of the eggs must have hatched in transit," explained Gordon, still rifling through the soft gravel, looking for any flash of movement. "Once the shell breaks they usually take a few hours to come out, but I guess with all the jiggling…"

"Okay, so presumably there should be a snake in there then. Where’s the snake, Gordon?!"

Gordon kept digging, slightly more urgently. "Some snakes bury themselves down into the substrate after hatching - it’s a kinda protection thing. They wait there for their first shed, then they come out looking for food."

Virgil reached out gingerly over Gordon's shoulder and picked up the soft and clearly empty egg shell, complete with a neat split down the middle. He held it softly in his hands, turning it over and over as if he might find the wayward snake still clinging to it somewhere.

"Exactly what sort of snakes are these, Gordy?" he asked slowly, deliberately.

"Umm…”

“Gordon!”

“I don’t know! I’m not a snake expert, and you can only tell so much from just the eggshell anyway.” He set the tray onto the dashboard and started checking inside the incubator itself, just in case. He could feel heat starting to rise across his cheeks.

“Gords, could it be… poisonous?”

Gordon swallowed back the sour taste in his mouth.

“I don’t know.”

There was a moment of horrible silence as those words sunk in. Of course, the chances of the snake being venomous were slim - only about 10-15% of known species were after all - and in any event their uniforms were designed to withstand pretty much anything, but there was still that tiny sliver of doubt in his mind. Was Brains far-sighted enough to have considered snake fangs as a variable during the testing phase?

Virgil took a step back, eyes darting everywhere, and tapped his wrist controller. “I’m not picking up anything. John? Any chance you could run a sweep of the cockpit for… uh… unusual heat signatures?”

“Unusual?” John’s projected image leapt out of the dashboard holo’ right in front of Gordon’s face, causing him to almost fall off his chair. “What sort of unusual?”

Virgil cleared his throat in a far-too-obviously guilty way. “We’ve kind of… misplaced something.”

“O-kaaay… What sort of something?”

Gordon opened his mouth to say… Actually he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but Virgil beat him to it.

“Can you just do it please, John?” he asked, brow furrowed. "Now?"

The look John shot them both could have stripped paint, but he turned away and started swiping.

“No unusual readings found,” he said after a few seconds. "Perhaps if I knew what I was looking for…”

Gordon caught Virgil’s eye. Despite his obvious concerned about the situation, the big chonk was clearly still trying to cover for him.

He really was the softest marshmallow.

But as touched as he was, right now the most important thing wasn't avoiding blame; it was finding the snake before anyone got hurt, including the creature itself. There would be time to wriggle out of Scott and John’s inevitable lecture later.

“The signal’s likely very subtle,” he said, drawing John's attention. “He’s cold-blooded, so his core temperature’s gonna be mirroring the immediate environment. Look at components a little below body temperature and check for tiny, unexplained fluctuations.”

“Cold-bl… You lost a reptile?!”

“A snake,” clarified Virgil.

There was a moment while John processed this new information, then he closed his eyes and pinched the top of his nose. “Of course it's a snake(!)” He sighed. “EOS? Did you catch all that?”

EOS’s voice rang through clear over the comms. “Yes, John. Checking now…”

“In the meantime,” said John, “I suggest you put your helmets back on, just to be safe. The less exposed skin you two have the better.”

The brothers nodded. 

Gordon set the incubator down and grabbed his helmet from the dash in front of him, just as EOS brought up a schematic of the cockpit onto the screen in front of him.

“There’s a slight irregularity in temperature around the co-pilot’s control panel, but it’s too indistinct to pin down to a specific component.”

Gordon’s eyes darted all over the dashboard in front of him. Where?

Scrabbling to push his chair back and get his helmet on, he vaguely heard Virgil say something about lifting the main cover off the console before he was suddenly distracted by a sharp, stabbing pain in his right cheek, just above the jaw.

“Yeow!”

Virgil was by his side immediately, mediscanner in hand. “What?! What is it?”

Gordon remained in his chair, sitting stock still.

"Don’ scan.”

"What?"

"Don' scan. Th' noise'll scare 'im."

Virgil's eyes went wide.

"Where is it?" he whispered, looking him up and down.

“I’z on m’ face."

“What?!?”

“On. M’. Face. W’z inside th’ helmet.”

Virgil and John exchanged a panicked look.

…Yep.

By rights, Gordon should have been scared. After all, there was a chance he could die here; the little danger-noodle might be pumping deadly venom into him by the second. But surprisingly he wasn’t overly worried about that possibility just now. In fact he felt strangely calm and clear-headed. What was done was done after all, and the priority now was to a) not do anything to make the snake strike again (him or Virgil); and b) get it secured.

“Ah’m gonna slowly r’move th’ helmet," he mumbled, trying not to move his mouth too much. "When y’ see ‘im, grab ‘im c’refully b’hind th’ head an’ unhook ‘im.”

Keeping his head stock still, he looked sidelong at his big brother to check he’d understood. Poor Virg looked pale, but he nodded and shifted into position in front of him, mouth set in a grim line. Behind him, John's face was a picture of worry.

“R'dy?” Gordon asked. 

Virgil nodded, hands poised.

He gave a little blink in lieu of a smile. “Okay."

Deep breath.

"One. Two. ‘Hree.”

And slowly he took off his helmet.

Virgil reached forwards and closed his hand next to Gordon’s face. The skin on his face pulled painfully for a moment, then released, leaving a sharp echo across his cheek. 

He exhaled in a big whoosh that seemed to come from his very soul, and raised his eyes to look at the thing that had bitten him.

“Scanning for a species match now,” said John urgently as Virgil stepped back, holding the offending creature out at arm’s length. “Cross-matching size, markings and-”

“It’s a Children’s Python!”

“A what?” Virgil asked roughly.

John took a massive breath in. “Oh thank god! Are you sure?”

“Certain,” replied Gordon, finding his feet and bouncing over to look a bit closer, all concern for his safety gone. “We had one as a class pet in 5th grade. Native to Northern Australia. Fantastic pets.”

“I can confirm the identification, John” said EOS. “The species is non-venomous.”

All the remaining colour drained from Virgil's face, and lowered himself down shakily into his chair, arm still outstretched. “Well in that case would someone please come and take this thing out of my hand before I have a heart attack?”

“Oops! Yep, give me one second…” Gordon grabbed the tray of eggs and fished out a roll of electrical tape from one of his console drawers. “This should keep the lid secure until we can get him into the shelter, at least.”

Gordon reached out and gently took hold of the little snake, who had stopped thrashing around and instead seemed content to curl its body gently around his hand. He took a second to admire its beautiful mottled markings in light and dark brown, and the gentle undulation of muscles pulsing as it moved.

"Hey, little guy."

The tiny snake flicked its tongue at him, tasting the air.

Slowly, gently, Gordon encouraged the snake back in the tray, extracted his hand, and then put the lid on and taped it down.

As soon as the tray was closed, John seemed to deflate like he was the one who’d been punctured.

“Please, for the love of god, don’t ever scare me like that again, okay guys? My cortisol levels can't take it."

"Take it easy John," soothed Virgil as he stumbled over to examine Gordon's cheek. "You sit back and have a float and we'll finish up here." He took Gordon by the chin and turned his face to the side. "...C'mon Blofeld, let's get you cleaned up."

…

Fifteen minutes later and sporting a natty Baby Shark band-aid on his cheek, Gordon skipped across the animal shelter car park towards the front desk. Alongside him, Virgil carried the now-definitely-sealed incubator. (Gordon had argued it was his privilege as 'the walking wounded’ not to have to carry stuff. Virgil had just rolled his eyes and agreed, muttering something about checking for himself to ensure no more 'jailbreaks'.)

Behind them, a dozen or so vets and other volunteers were unloading the various other crates of animals from Two's hold, checking them over and directing them to their respective enclosures.

Gordon grinned.

"Feeling better now?" asked Virgil, quirking a smile in reply.

He was, in more ways than one. Somehow, staring into the face of that tiny serpent had made him feel a lot more positive about everything. Nature really was amazing. If a baby creature, just out of its egg, could survive and protect itself in a hostile environment like that little one had today, then with a little bit of care he was sure the other animals they'd rescued would as well.

Life was good. He had his health, he had his family, and they’d done good today. 

Suddenly overcome with happiness, he couldn’t help doing a little jumping air punch, earning a low chuckle from his left.

"You were right, Virg. Today really was a win.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. "Not sure I'd quite describe it that way, although if you say so. You did set a snake loose in my ‘bird, though.”

“Hey, don't blame me! I'm as much a victim as you are. Little Hissy Houdini's a force all of his own.”

A pause. “You named him?”

“Yep! Kinda fitting, don’t you think?”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not keeping him.”

Gordon gasped dramatically. “Virgil Tracy, I am shocked! I would never-”

“Sully the Gully, Puppy Longstocking, Razorbill Bob, the Swift Family Robinson…”

“...again. Never again.”

“Well that’s just as well then, because I don’t think Scott would appreciate finding this little escapologist in his sock drawer, do you?"

As Gordon contemplated all of the delicious trickster-y possibilities that that image brought up, he stretched and gave his back another series of cracks.

Virgil regarded him coolly. "You sound like a goddamn popcorn maker," he grumbled. "Speaking of, I wonder if the others'd be up for a movie night tonight? I feel like we've earned a bit of down time."

"Sounds good to me," said Gordon, flinging an arm around the big man's shoulders. "And I have the perfect one in mind… You like Samuel L Jackson films, right?"

[tagminibang]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (Cartoon 2015) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: John Tracy, Scott Tracy Additional Tags: Thunderstorms, Brotherly Bonding, suspense if you squint hard enough, Tag Mini Bang 2023, Tagminibang 2023 Summary:

John is awake much later than he should be, and as a result he is the first to notice when the power goes out. But is it just the storm? Or is there another reason why John is uneasy?

——

I was given @jbarkerstargazer for the @tagminibang gift exchange 2023. I hope you enjoy it! :)

——

Thunder rolled across the Kansas sky. Rain beat down on the roof of the Gran Roca Ranch. Most of the ranch’s occupants were asleep. So too should have been John, but John had never been one to be able to fall asleep early. There were usually stars for him to wish on, telescopes to make them clearer, bring them closer to him, as if by bringing them closer it would bring him one step closer to his dream of going to space. Tonight, though, there were only clouds and raindrops that left little rivulets down the surface of his window.

John sat with his back against the headboard of the bed. Rain had always been a soothing sound to him, reminding him of days where he had sat cuddled against their parents as they read or watched a movie with him and his brothers, but he wasn’t quite ready to give into the urge to sleep. A book lay across his lap, one that had become so familiar to him he could probably recite the whole thing by heart. He had read it so often with his mother that the cover had become worn and the binding had become loose in some places and he could almost hear his mother’s voice reading him the words once again, though he never fooled himself that she would. The echo of his mother’s voice and the familiar words were just the thing for nights where the thoughts in his mind wouldn’t slow down long enough for him to fall asleep.

A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder that was almost directly overhead sent the room into a sudden darkness after a few moments. John frowned as he reached for the light, toggling the switch as if to see if the light would reappear magically, as if the lightbulb had decided that it was time for him to go to bed. Unsurprisingly, the light did not return at this gesture. Great. They had lost power, and due to the remoteness of the ranch, it could be awhile before they saw the power return.

Keep reading

[tagminibang]

Let me know if I missed your post! The tag system is trying to decide if it wants to work or not

[tagminibang]

For the #tag mini bang I got @womble1 🎉

I picked the end scene of the funny short 'First of all' it's linked give it a read

I've had this image in my head since the first time I read this story ages ago so was more then happy to put this image on paper.

Hope you like it @womble1 💕

[tagminibang]

For @mariashades for the 2023 tag mini bang!

This was inspired by The Unusual Family fic! The comparison of Gordon with his mom and Lucy got wedged in my brain after reading Gordon’s chapter 😭

[tagminibang]

TAGMINIBANG2023 - JUST IN CASE

For @alexthefly and her amazing fic found here

And thank you to @tagminibang for organising this amazing feat

[tagminibang]

Tag miniBang!

Inspired by this picture by @chenria. Yes I'm predictable - its Virgil. I had a really hard time trying to pick just one picture, they're all so good! for example this one is also amazing and this one. I could go on, but I should probably focus on posting the fic for the minibang.

So, warnings for a little bit of sadness, but hugs at the end. No blood, gore or trauma. Sorry it's not longer, but we take what the muse will give at the moment, and I think it was intimidated by the quality artwork.

anyway here it goes!

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Virgil pulled out a plain white tee and shoved the drawer back in with his hip. Or at least he tried to, but it jarred on something, stopping unexpectedly and leaving him with a bruised hip bone, and an expletive ready to fly forth. 

Pulling the top on and grumbling under his breath, he rattled the draw handle and gave it another shove. Nothing, it still stubbornly remained sticking out 4 inches. He sighed, obviously this was going to follow the pattern of the day and not go his way. 

He shimmied the drawer out, cursing that it was quite so wide, and quite so rammed with shirts. He really ought to have a clear out. He bent his knees and shifted his grip a little more before sliding it the rest of the way and taking its whole weight. A ragged ripping noise near his shoulder accompanied the movement, spelling the end to this current t-shirt. One less to fit back in the drawer at least, he forced himself to look on the bright side, it involved a physical effort. He tried not to dwell on the fact that the fabric has been washed enough times to be at that perfect soft comforting stage. He glanced behind to try and assess the level of damage, maybe it would still be ok to wear under things? 

The lapse in attention was all it took for the teetering drawer to break free from its runners and make a headlong dive for the ground, caring not a whit for any stray body parts that might bar its way. 

“F-Fuuuu…..ck!” There was some hopping, and a few stray items of clothing may have been kicked intentionally across the room in retaliation. Once the pain and the wish for revenge on inanimate objects had passed, Virgil crouched down to start picking up the scattered shirts. Which, coincidently also gave him an unimpeded view of the obstruction that had started it all, or as Virgil was starting to think of it: “the root of all evil”. Lurking right at the back of the unit was an old phone. 

Suppressing the urge to swear a bit more, Virgil leaned over the wreckage and pulled the offending device out of its hiding place, brushing the light layer of dust off on his jeans. It had obviously escaped from the back of the crap drawer above. He could just shove it back in, amongst the random detritus, the lone sock, the ratty old notebook, a screw that was probably for something important and all the random cables that likewise were probably essential to something so should probably be kept. 

He brushed away a stray streak of dust with his thumb and was shocked when the the screen 

lit up, how the hell was it still alive? It must have been close enough to the wireless charger wired into the top of the drawers to keep it alive all these years. Which was just as well, because the chances of finding the right cable for it in the depths of the crap drawer was near impossible. 

Out of curiosity, he opened the gallery and went to the earliest photos. Well, that confirmed how old the device was, there were some very awkward gawky selfies. What on earth possessed him to get That haircut? He stalled in his scrolling when he spotted a picture of his Dad, a candid snap slightly out of focus of him standing at the grill, flipping burgers. It could have been any sunny afternoon, only Virgil could place it exactly. Those burgers never did get finished, the callout had come through that had changed everything.  

Virgil left the clutter strewn across the floor and sat down heavily on the end of his bed. He was still absently scrolling through the phone, his mind was still caught in that image. Without consciously choosing to, he had opened the messages. 

Oh god, he had forgotten about these. Some of them were short, one line, others were sprawling paragraphs. They all had one thing in common though, the recipient. Message after message sent to his father. Their therapist had suggested sending letters, but this had been a bit more accessible. 

Scrolling through them he could spot all seven stages of grief. It had been a rough journey, and the disjointed messages reflected that. He only had to catch the odd word for the themes of some of them to come flooding back. Shaking his head he had to firmly remind himself that they had got through it, and better yet, they had even got their Dad back. The bad memories were shoved aside by the far better, more recent ones. Besides, some of the old photos of his brothers ought to make for prime blackmail material. 

Then it hit him, he had actually sent those messages, when he had been sure that his father would never see them. The emotions came flooding back with interest. He felt suddenly sick and far too hot. Did his Dad still have that device? Would he have looked at them? Surely he would have said something? Virgil had put some awful things in those messages, there was a lot of blame before he had come to terms with things. He gulped in a breath and tried to let it out slowly, he was overreacting …possibly, probably. One problem at a time, find out if Dad still had the old phone, it had probably died years ago anyway, probably. 

Socks skittering on the hardwood floor, Virgil went scurrying off in hunt of his father. The burst of speed was what nearly had him colliding with Jeff as he flew into the lounge. 

All thought process had been set aside in preference of speed, which probably went some to explaining his conversation opener:

“Oh hey Dad! Umm, do you still have your old phone?” he blurted out, his breath still coming quickly after his unplanned sprint. 

“Hello to you too Virgil.” Jeff laughed. “What are you talking about son?”

“Your phone, the one you had before you…umm…went away, do you still have it?”

Jeff frowned in concentration for a moment, “nope, no idea where that ended up. I could have done with it for a few rounds of candy crush out in the back end of beyond” he beamed, happy at his own joke.

Yes, there were more lines on his fathers face than there had been in Virgil's memory, but right now they were mostly laughter lines.

“What did you want it for anyway?” Jeff turned, smiling over his shoulder as he parked himself in a convenient armchair.

“Umm, no reason.” he tugged awkwardly at the hem of his Tee. Scuffing his socks on the floor he tried to assume a casual gait as he made his way towards the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help him reset from the adrenalin rush.

As his thoughts slowed down to a more normal pace one thing confused him, pulling out his old phone again he scrolled aimlessly through it again. “But the messages have been read…?” he muttered to himself as he stood by the sink.  

“I had Dads’ old phone.” Virgil hadn’t noticed Scott following him from the lounge.

The words landed like a brick in the silence of the kitchen.

Virgil swallowed awkwardly, “you did?” 

Scott nodded.

“Oh.”  another pause, “you never said.”

Scott shook his head. 

“The messages, the things I said, the things I wrote…” he swallowed thickly

“It’s fine Virge, it was a long time ago.”

Virgil pulled in a breath, it was harder than it should have been, and he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say anyway.

“We all had a lot to work through,” Scott continued, “and honestly,” and here he locked eyes with Virgil, chin tilted low and eyebrows drawn together, “honestly, it helped knowing I wasn’t the only one thinking these things.” he shook his head and let out a small brittle laugh, “ I mean, yeah, we probably should have just talked about it, or something, but that sounds a bit too functional for this family.” He clapped Virgil on the shoulder and then pulled him into a crushing bear hug, the perfect amount of boisterousness designed to chase the lingering ghosts away. “We made it out the other side though,” Scott whispered, the words almost getting lost in the fabric of Virgil’s T-shirt. It lifted the weight off Virgil's heart. 

The hug was held for a second more, before Scott was holding his brother out at arms length by the shoulders.

“What the hell did you do to this shirt?” Scott gave Virgil a look that was pure Jeff Tracy. 

Which must have served to summon the man himself as he wandered in at that moment, slippers scuffing on the floor.

“How exactly did you boys survive without me?” he asked, shaking his head, before diverting to grab a mending kit from a side drawer. The years in space had not diminished the Dad-voice, but he was a little surprised when his sons started laughing their asses off. 

[tagminibang]

For the #tag mini bang I got @womble1 🎉

I picked the end scene of the funny short 'First of all' it's linked give it a read

I've had this image in my head since the first time I read this story ages ago so was more then happy to put this image on paper.

Hope you like it @womble1 💕

[tagminibang]

Happy Mini Bang Weekend!

So much awesome work so far!