gumnut-logic

[gumnut-logic]

Ooooh, lovely!

Do we like the fabric this is making up - yay or nay?

#tunisian crochet #crochet #gaviiadastra

[gumnut-logic]

Unusual Whump List

Here is a short list of unusual paths to whump to inspire fic and/or art. Feel free to reblog, share, and even send me a prompt to see if you can get me writing (maybe include a character as well). Have fun :D

Pulled elastic slap

Frozen confectionery

Attacked by a moose

Stepping on Lego

Bird poop

Pricked by a pin

Slipping in the bathroom

Glitter

Falling pinecone

Stung by a caterpillar

Smell

Caught in a tangle

Stepped on by a dog

Too much food

Attacked by a trophy

Licked by a cat

Static electricity

Reaction to laundry powder

Hit by a ball

Bright light in the dark

Pecked by a bird

Falling bookshelf

Spider at breakfast

Hot glue gun

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #unusual whump list #prompts #writing prompts #just for fun #check out Australian pinecones before dismissing that one :D #once had a pinecone fall on our car #left a massive dent in the roof #wasn't even an Australian pinecone

[gumnut-logic]

::hugs all of you::

Really, the ultimate whump we never see on whump lists.

Hmmm, spark of inspiration! I must write something now 😁😈

Nutty

(Mwahahaha)

WIP Wednesday

“Scott?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can I ask you a favour?”

“Always.”

“It’s a weird one”

Scott turned and raised an amused eyebrow.

“Would you wear it again?”

“Wear what? If you’re asking about Halloween and that cursed superman costume, it’s a hard no. I might be persuaded to consider Batman but only if you’re going to be Robin.”

Virgil snorted.

“As you very well know I don’t do tights. Not after the Christmas debacle.”

“I think you made a lovely elf.”

“You’re deranged.”

“Yeah but you love me.” Scott lay back on the lounger and grinned his most maddening grin.

Virgil threw an ice cube at his head before conceding: “I do. Yes.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #idontknowreallywhy

[gumnut-logic]

::sighs happily::

Brows at maximum!

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #virgil tracy #flyboytracy

[gumnut-logic]

Today so far 😁

#nuttybeads #beading #beadweaving #earrings #penelope collection

[gumnut-logic]

::watches Sherlock for the first time in about ten years::

::pokes around Ao3 as a result::

#nutty is nuts #bbc sherlock

[gumnut-logic]

Definitely.

I have this sudden image of Scott pinning Gords (aka sitting on him) because Virgil once said it was a bonafide technique and the gentle approach is not currently working.

The problem is Gords is quite happy to spar with big bro (aka toss him around the room), something he is not willing to do to Virgil. The scene deteriorates from that point. Though some steam is blown off and there may be yelling. 😁

Touch Starved

Character who:

instinctively flinches away from the first offer of contact

pulls back before their friend/partner can touch them, recoiling like a scared animal,

then stews in regret about the instinctive movement for days afterward, thinking about the missed opportunity,

wishing they could go back and accept it

wishing they could find a way to muster up the courage to ask for it

hungry for even a trace of contact, following their friend/partner around with silent, begging eyes, needing it so badly but unable to form the words for the request...

and then finally being hugged by surprise as someone comes up from behind them and wraps their arms around them

it feels so good, they can't even breathe for a moment,

tears prickle in their eyes the moment the other person pulls away

wait, they can barely whisper,

but this time their friend/partner hears them, wraps them in their arms, and doesn't let go for the longest time -

and this time, when their friend tries to disentangle themselves, the touch-starved character grabs onto their shirt or arms and holds on, too tight to allow them to pull away again. They're not about to let go of this ever again, now that they've finally found it.

#thunderfam

[gumnut-logic]

@whatgaviiformes 😁💛

“Great Tits!” … titter … 😏 A new version with a more mustardy yellow for @wonderwoolwales on 27th and 28th April.

MothyAndTheSquid.com

[gumnut-logic]

Thunderfam, I believe Virgil may be on a mission to prevent all of the above. Honestly, he’ll sit on a family member, if necessary.

Of course, if Virgil is separated from the family…well, he’s not the only family glomper, but…

Who steps up in the hug department? Who chases up Virgil if there is a sudden hug deficit?

Touch Starved

Character who:

instinctively flinches away from the first offer of contact

pulls back before their friend/partner can touch them, recoiling like a scared animal,

then stews in regret about the instinctive movement for days afterward, thinking about the missed opportunity,

wishing they could go back and accept it

wishing they could find a way to muster up the courage to ask for it

hungry for even a trace of contact, following their friend/partner around with silent, begging eyes, needing it so badly but unable to form the words for the request...

and then finally being hugged by surprise as someone comes up from behind them and wraps their arms around them

it feels so good, they can't even breathe for a moment,

tears prickle in their eyes the moment the other person pulls away

wait, they can barely whisper,

but this time their friend/partner hears them, wraps them in their arms, and doesn't let go for the longest time -

and this time, when their friend tries to disentangle themselves, the touch-starved character grabs onto their shirt or arms and holds on, too tight to allow them to pull away again. They're not about to let go of this ever again, now that they've finally found it.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam

[gumnut-logic]

This is so atmospheric!

Virg wears flannel and that fact encompasses so much about the man. So many snugs and hugs. Poor Scotty. Poor Johnny.

That sense of quiet but eerie suspense that something is not quite right. Then Scott’s realisation and that final determination to visit his brother.

Aaaaargh! I gotta go read the next bit.

Nutty

(Next bit!)

Resurface 18 - Reverie

Previous parts here

A little forgetful interlude…

(Weighted blanket lore borrowed from @astranite’s gorgeous fic Rest)

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The softly spoken and consequently often-ignored part of Scott’s brain that craved sleep whined pitifully as he dragged himself back towards consciousness. He was warm and his dream had been nice and ugggh… nope. He did not want to move. But the more vocal majority part of the same brain pointed out there were probably Things to be Doing, that his left foot was tingling, and that the side of his face was disconcertingly adhered to a hard surface.

An experimental twitch of his jaw then a slight frown as his neurons aligned and informed him he’d been drooling in his sleep… lovely. He sighed and dragged one eyelid open.

The moonlight cast familiar shadows at an unfamiliar angle. He was in the lounge, but not at the desk. His brain was taking an unusually long time to reboot which from past experience meant the nap had been a long time coming but had not been of sufficient length to negate the need for another. A vague sense of unease told him he should be doing something important, probably with a deadline he was about to miss… but why wasn’t he at the desk in that case?

He’d obviously crashed out on the couch, the curve of the wooden armrest pressing into his jawbone made that clear… but wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as he should be. A little shuffling investigation revealed a ball of soft, familiar material tucked into the gap between the armrest and his shoulder, meaning his neck was well supported. He smiled to himself as his sense of smell came online and the aroma of coffee, paint and a side note of engine grease revealed the padding to be one of Virgil’s shirts. At which point he also realised the other reason he felt so warm and contented was that he was snuggled under the weighted blanket Virgil had bought for him months ago. His brother had also apparently removed his shoes and tucked the blanket under his feet.

The only odd thing was that he was here at all and Virgil hadn’t dragged him to his actual bed. On one occasion his younger, shorter but not in any practically meaningful way littler brother actually threatened to literally drag him, seizing hold of one foot and forcing Scott to scuttle-hop across the floor after him like a three legged crab before he relented and agreed to leave the desk under his own steam.

And they called Scott the smotherhen! Sure, he tried his best but he was a pale, lanky imitation of the real deal. When it was stormy outside, Scott might strut and crow to try to scare away the darkness but Virgil could always be relied upon to gather all the chicks under his broad wings and keep them feeling safe.

Woah, he really was tired if he was getting poetic. He sighed silently, still unwilling to move and thus accept he was awake. All was quiet so maybe… maybe he could hang out here a little longer? Shifting his body down the sofa, he peeled his face from the armrest and buried it in Virgil’s shirt instead. Scott revised his already tortured metaphor - he wasn’t the cockerel but just as much a chick in need of shelter as any of them. It was possible he needed to get better at acknowledging that… poor Virgil had his work cut out trying to keep this fuzzy little chicken in line. He’d complained about it recently… what was it he’d said? “I can’t make him stop, he won’t stop…”

As if reality had thrown a bucket of iced water at his face, Scott leapt up still clinging to the flannel shirt. VIRGIL! Still bleary-eyed, he felt around desperately for the tablet but it was gone. How could it be gone? He stood, rifled through the heavy folds of the blanket, down between the cushions, and was halfway under the couch when a soft sigh caught his attention.

John was curled up on the seat opposite, another bundle of red plaid clutched to his chest with one hand, the other trailing to the ground, fingers just looped over the edge of… YES… Scott’s tablet.

Ninja-like, Scott tiptoed across the room and edged the precious device from John’s limp fingers. He looked apologetically at the ceiling, feeling EOS watching him with disapproval but she remained quiet.

The same moonlight flooded the infirmary making everything look cold and alien. Virgil looked deathly pale and for all Scott’s logical reasoning that moonlight drained the colour from everyone he just needed to be sure…

He replaced the tablet and stood looking down at John’s sleeping form, wishing he could do something to stop them all hurting so badly. Shaking out the red shirt he had tucked under his own arm, he laid it gently over John’s shoulders before sneaking out of the room to check on its owner.

🧡💚💙🧡💚💙🧡💚💙🧡💚💙🧡💚💙🧡

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #Idontknowreallywhy

[gumnut-logic]

Aaaargh! What is on the page? And poor Scotty ::hugs him to bits::

::hugs the Gordy:: The fish is Virgil’s other anchor.

This fic is amazing.

Nutty

(Over lunch)

Resurface 17 - Redraw

Previous bits

Writing art is not my forte but Virg doesn’t have access to a piano right now so he insisted. I hereby blame any clumsy wording / inaccuracies on this being Scott’s POV so… yeah it’s the flyboy’s fault.

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It had been a little over 48 hours since Scott had last been in the same room as Virgil. While at one end of the feed a brother was happily chatting away to his invisible-to-everyone-else best friend, the unseen brother at the other huddled on the couch, curled protectively around his tablet lifeline and was politely rebuffing anyone who hovered with offers of irrelevancies like sustenance and reassurance. And company.

He felt bad about that. He had a nasty suspicion John was berating himself for revealing those details about the past and at some point very soon Scott was going to need to fix it. But it wasn’t now. The rest of them needed to concentrate on Virgil anyway.

Speaking of which…

Virgil had got fidgety and was stretching his arms behind his head in an achingly familiar way. Gordon, who was on duty again, was heavy-napping on one of the other beds and didn’t stir. The squid had taken the brunt of his brother’s care upon himself and he needed the sleep and so this was fine. Kayo and John were distracting Alan. Scott was keeping watch and could raise the alarm if the patient got out of bed. He didn’t though, merely shuffled his pillows around a while before appearing to notice the sketch pad and new set of pencils that had been left on his bedside table at his big brother’s insistence. Scott felt a little rush of justification as Virgil seized the pad and opened it to a fresh page, tapping his chin thoughtfully with the end of a pencil.

Scott watched as his brother began to sketch some light sweeping strokes across the page. The tension in Virgil’s expression melted away and Scott felt a little of himself beginning to thaw too.

After a few minutes, the artist laid the pad down beside him while he reached over to to select a different grade of pencil from the tin. Even upside down Scott recognised the sketch as the beginnings of one of Virgil’s many sky backgrounds - rays of sun peaking through soft clouds, the hint of a light wind mysteriously depicted through graphite on white. So many things could emerge next - a cityscape, a portrait, a whale leaping from the ocean… It could be an abstract of a solar eclipse or a detailed study of one of their ships. Perhaps a flock of birds over a silhouetted volcanic island. Whatever his eventual intention, Virgil so often began with the sky and everything else followed.

He picked the sketchbook up again and proceeded to add something smaller and more detailed. Scott entertained a hope that it might end up being Two and One flying home side by side - had three of those displayed in his suite - one watercolour, one acrylic, one mixed media collage and he was more than happy to add a pencil version too if Virgil allowed it. The eyebrows of intense concentration had been deployed and Scott had begun to smile at the familiarity of this when the merely concentrating look hardened into something else.

Virgil started to add much heavier lines, the knuckles of his right hand white as he held the book steady and the left almost a blur as he dug the pencil in hard and dragged it rapidly to and fro across the page. Scott wondered how the paper could possibly withstand such a ferocious onslaught of carbon - he half expected it to catch fire if his brother didn’t gouge a hole straight through it first.

Scott watched in helpless dismay as his the look of distress on his brother’s face deepened and was on the point of calling Gordon to wake him when Virgil seemed to run out of steam and slumped back into the pillows, sketchpad clutched to his chest. He closed his eyes and took a couple of breaths before propping himself up again and gazing at what he had drawn. He didn’t move at all for several minutes. Scott unconsciously leaned sideways as if he could change the angle of the security camera to see what it was then swore to himself. This was wrong. He should just be able to go and ask… he always asked and Virg always showed him… maybe somewhat shyly but he’d always show him. He didn’t dare defy Grandma, not when he was so clueless about all of this, but his gut told him she was wrong - Scott should be there by Virgil’s side.

This was wrong. She was wrong.

He had to try again.

He stood and started towards the stairs to go and reason with her when another movement from the screen caught his attention. Without removing his eyes from the sketch pad, Virgil leaned over to the bedside table and patted around until his fingers closed over a large eraser. He spun it in his fingers for a few moments then appeared to remove something then added some small detail, his expression intense but unreadable, even to the brother who knew him best.

Some small noise must have alerted Gordon who suddenly flung himself on to the bed and enveloped Virgil in a hug.

The sketchpad slipped to the floor and Scott slowly sat back down again.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #Idontknowreallywhy

[gumnut-logic]

Oh, the frustration and madness of an artwork that just won’t work!

And Gordon, you are the evil of evil. Poor Virgil. But he turns tactically (or last resortly to save his sanity) to his Commander who sets him right.

Of course, the Commander seeks his usual resources and John is pulled into the fray. The great Thunderbird Five comes prepared to save a brother as always :D This is definitely IR at work. Gotta save the staff :D

I love this! The desperation as Virgil dumps himself in front of Scott is just adores.

Gordon is lovingly evil. Scott takes command and John has the answers - problem solved.

Wonderfully written and thoroughly enjoyed. Thank you :D

Nutty

(You are inspiring me to pick up my crochet hook again - it’s been at least a couple of weeks since beading took over)

Fic: Grannies - part 3

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Unedited.

Summary: Gordon’s committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares

Part 1 here | Part 2 here Also just added to AO3

In this part: Virgil

“Your brother,” Virgil says, sinking heavily across from Scott at his work desk. The words trail… “Infuriating.” The chair was only there some of the time - mostly when more than one of them had to be on a conference call. 

Scott raises an eyebrow, his typing unhindered by his younger brother suddenly resting his cheeks on the wooden desk in defeat. “And? What did Gordon do now?” 

It’s of no consequence to Virgil that his big brother can tell just who’s the problem. It's obviously Gordon. They all have their little tiffs every now and then, but none of them would ever headdesk over the youngest, John's too far away for arguments to linger, and since Virgil is coming to Scott…

Virgil and Gordon work together too closely sometimes.

The interesting part is Gordon's off duty; he was called out to Eddington to spend some time on site with his marine research and would continue to be on leave for another four days.

“He leave you with a parting gift?” Scott asks. “Replaced your hair gel with Vaseline? Reorganized your paints? Switched your phone to pig latin?”

“Ugh, do not put those ideas out in the Universe,” Virgil warns, warily raising his head from his hands to glance around the villa. He doesn’t put it past Gordon to have ears around, especially those named Alan. Feeling safe that no one is hiding nearby, he swings back to Scott, his eyes narrowing as he catches sight of familiar stitching resting on the desk underneath Scott’s coffee. “You!”  

Virgil clambers for the square, pressing the mug where the desk is bare. Luckily, Scott’s mostly drunk it through and so the liquid barely swirls halfway up the side in his haste to grab for the fabric below it. 

He glares at Scott.  

“It’s finished.” He raises the granny square up to Scott’s eye level, his fingertips white where he holds up the coffee-stained yarn. “How is this one finished?”  The confusion on Scott’s face dissipates, and Virgil notices the quirk of his smile that tells him Scott is biting the inside of his cheek to keep his expression in check.  “Why are you laughing? Stop it,” he says. 

Scott takes this as permission, of course, to crack a smile, and Virgil’s eyebrow twitches indignantly. 

“This is about the blanket, then?” Scott calmly and gently pries his coaster from Virgil’s fingers and straightens it back on the desk, followed by the mug in its proper position. “Before you start shouting betrayal, Gordon is still a shit and equal-opportunity pest. John wove in the ends for me last time he was here.” 

“John did?” 

“Yes.” 

Virgil deflates; the sigh deeply lodged in his chest as he squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Do you he’d be willing to do about, oh, 200 more? And how do you know about the blanket?”

“Neither one of you are entirely subtle.” 

“Gordon figured it out, didn’t he?”

Scott hesitates. Nods. “There’s really only so much you can do with them. Retaliate, or make something. Gordon knows you well enough to know you won’t discard them. So…”

“So, he already knows I’m making something. Left all of these ends unwoven on purpose? Chose the most offensive colors known to humankind, specifically to annoy me?” Virgil shakes his head, groaning. “Nevermind, I don’t need you to answer.” 

“You know who he is,” Scott says with a grinning shrug. “I can’t let you disown him.” 

“Pity.” 

“Is that what dragged you down here all defeated?” 

Virgil points a finger. “I am not defeated. I’m frustrated. And I’m not sure there’s a point to all of it if there’s no element of surprise.” 

“Virg-”

“I’ve been trying for,” he checks his watch, “five hours to arrange these squares together, and nothing looks right. So what do I do? I take a break, weave in some ends, come back to it after. And after - I have more ends and still no design.” 

“That sounds pretty defeated to me.” 

“He wants me to go insane!” 

“He wants you to embrace his chaos,” Scott amends. “Come now, Virgil. You got this. Let us help,” he encourages, and Virgil has no choice but to sigh as his brother reaches for the comm to Thunderbird Five. “John, we have a situation.”

Their brother smirks when he answers. His hair is a shade darker than usual and waving in its wet, unstyled shape, indicating that John’s only recently gotten out of the shower. He’s dressed, but hasn’t switched his glasses for contacts. “You know, that’s my line,” he responds dryly. “Good Morning, Virgil.” 

It’s 3PM. 

But it is the first time Virgil has had a chance to speak to John since he spent the bulk of his morning with the project at hand. Virgil usually checks in with their distant space monitor during his morning coffee, so Virgil internally scolds himself for the rude gesture he was about to make and recognizes the irritation he feels is not John’s - or even Scott’s - fault. He waves instead. 

It’s easier to let Scott explain. As the oldest of them, he has a way of focusing on facts and details for emotionally charged situations. It’s one of the reasons he’s a great commander. Of course, if he’s the one emotionally charged, that’s a different story.  

“Show me his stitches, again?” 

Now, John however, he’s concise - often three steps ahead before he clues the rest of them in. 

Scott picks up the coaster and pushes his chair back to come around the desk to give John a better view. Once Virgil spins his chair to fully face John’s hologram, Scott places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” John tells him, matter-of-fact. “Crochet what ends you can when you join squares together. Measure everything so I can get enough fabric, and I’ll help you put a lining on it.” He says the list of instructions with the same inflection as when directing a rescue, his hands flying across the resources in front of him. 

It’s not a bad idea.With a lining, the most weaving he might need to do would be ensuring all ends were on the “wrong” side of the squares.  

“What about if something pokes through the spaces of the granny square?” 

John raises an eyebrow at Virgil’s question. “He’ll deal. He knew what he was doing when he didn’t finish them off properly. Don’t worry, we’ll find something so obnoxiously fishy, he won’t care. I found a pattern here with anemone’s in little hats.” 

Virgil can’t help but giggle at that, and John smiles at him brightly, his eyes larger behind the wire frames. 

“I’ll keep looking,” he tells him. “We can keep workshopping ideas.”

“Thanks, Jay. Now about the arranging,” Scott says. “I have some ideas about that, Virgil, if you’re willing to show me what you have.”

Grateful, Virgil nods. “Another set of eyes would be great.”

“F-A-B! Let’s go make order out of chaos.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #gaviiadastra

[gumnut-logic]

I love the subtle FishTank in this. the fact that all the brothers feel it, that Virgil has strong bonds with all of them.

Scott’s heart is aching.

This was quieter, unspoken angst, so I will just hug you gently so you don’t notice the soft toffee in your hair.

::hugs and squeezes::

Resurface 16 - Regard

What went before

Yes, this was just going to be a single explanatory paragraph, but I swear whenever I get within 3ft of the inside of Scott’s brain it all spirals… so… ah I dunno *flings words*.

Let’s just say that the fact the sequel with have the square of the number of chapters of the original fic is symbolic of how, when buried, issues like these can escalate into something much bigger and more uncontrollable over time? That sounds plausible. Definitely deliberate then. Yep.

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A digital landslide of distracting paperwork loomed entirely unheeded as Scott sat perched on the edge of the desk with his back to it, sipped his coffee and focussed intently on the security feed John had routed to his tablet.

Virgil was sleeping again.

Gordon had unloaded the contents of a cabinet on to an empty bed and was methodically sorting through, discarding some items, probably expired, and placing the rest neatly back into place. On another occasion Scott would have commented on the contrast with the squid’s approach to just about every other space he inhabited, but recognised the action for what it was. He touched the screen as if to stroke tiny Gordon’s head than jumped a little as his fish brother looked up suddenly like he was aware of it. The door opened and Grandma popped her head through and Scott let out an embarrassed breath. Of course, how could Gordon have felt anything? Scott grudgingly acknowledged that it may have been possibly a little too long since he last slept but it was what it was. Sleep wasn’t an option yet.

He watched, as Grandma and Gordon conversed and, seemingly satisfied, she left again. Gordon dropped himself into the chair next to Virgil’s bed and rested his head back. Within a few minutes he appeared to have nodded off.

A cloud shifted and a ray of sunlight crept across the floor and nudged him. Scott stretched like a cat and basked in it for a moment, before carrying the tablet over to the window. He spared the ocean a glance - it continued to do its thing, oblivious of the turmoil on the island it held in its arms.

He returned his attention to the feed. Gordon definitely sparked out, slumped down in the chair until he was nearly horizontal. Virgil was… Scott squinted… ok he was still sleeping too. The lack of sound meant big brother was spared the overwhelming sensory experience of the wingmen snoring in concert.

Good. This was good. Both their minds needed the rest and time to heal. Scott could keep an eye on them from here.

Was this what it was like for John all the time? Observing from above but unable to reach out and touch? Scott didn’t rate it at all. His need for physical proximity to a brother in distress was like an itch. No… a bruise… a nasty deep bruise… or… or perhaps the feeling left behind when one lost a limb. He grudgingly admitted this was better than lurking outside the door, however.

When John had appeared through it moments after Gordon had left, Scott had rolled his eyes so hard it made the tense muscles behind his eyebrows throb. He knew when he was about to be Managed, but when John still looked so vulnerable Scott couldn’t upset him more. So he allowed it. And thus he was up here in the sunshine with access to coffee and what he suspected was the spoils of a Gordon-related raid on Kayo’s secret candy stash. The consequences of that could be dealt with later.

He felt a little… uncomfortable… watching this way but was it really any different to sitting by his brother’s bedside? Not really. Well. Maybe a little. There was the consent issue… what would Virgil say if he knew? Would he be angry?

But… he reminded himself yet again… it wasn’t actually that Virgil didn’t want his big brother around, it was just his brain was struggling to explain the presence of two of them at once. And while all the articles Scott had consumed in the last 29 hours confirmed one shouldn’t play along with the delusions, they were also clear that it wasn’t a good idea to challenge or to try to reason him out of them. And Scott’s physical existence was currently proving to be such a challenge. Grandma had spoken to the psychiatrist and established they just had to wait until the meds started to kick in and the hallucinations lessened enough for reality to take precedence and then Scott could take his rightful place by Virgil’s side again.

Which was fine. At least he could keep an eye on things from here. He was an adult and of course he could be patient and focus on how fortunate it was they had a solution they knew would work for Virgil.

The fact that Scott was constantly fantasising about drop kicking this “other” Scott into the ocean was one he needed to keep to himself. He put the tablet down, drained his coffee and went to make another, tearing himself away from the screen for long enough to give himself a brief reprieve from the eye-strain headache that was developing. He leant over the kitchen sink and splashed cold water over his stinging, reddened eyes.

It was going to be fine.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #Idontknowreallywhy

[gumnut-logic]

Aaaaaargh! Poor Scotty.

There is nothing worse than a Scotty who can DO anything. The poor boi wears a hole in the floor. And in this case, he needs to be there for Virg and he can’t and his brain is fritzing.

You torture so evilly ::hugs you tight::

Resurface 15 - Relegate

What went before.

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Scott could make himself really quite small when he wanted to.

The height could be useful - not only for helping people reach objects on high shelves and seeing over a crowd to find a wayward baby brother - but it gave him a certain extra presence in a room, particularly useful when said room was full of older, more experienced egos.

But it was deceptive. The gangly limbs folded up very efficiently and he could squeeze into unexpectedly tiny spaces if required. It came in useful for hide and seek. And other times.

Gordon snuck out of the infirmary and moved swiftly down the corridor intent on fetching snacks for John and Grandma who were on Virgil-duty.

About half way down, while lost in his own thoughts he nearly leapt out of his skin when a quiet voice greeted him from a knee height storage alcove.

“Hey, Fish”

“Geeeeeez, Scott!” Gordon took a moment to collect himself and leant heavily on the wall.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“No worries. Uh, silly question but… humour me. Why are you lurking in the cleaning cupboard?”

“Just… waiting. How’s he doing?” Scott unfolded himself and emerged like an octopus from a crevice.

“He’s sleeping right now. The anti-psychotic meds will make him a bit drowsy even without taking the sedative.”

“Yeah. Grandma said. D’you think I can…” Scott gestured half-heartedly back towards the infirmary door.

Gordon cringed and watched his big brother’s face fall.

“I’m sorry, bro… Grandma thinks after… earlier… it’s best if when he wakes you’re not… you know.”

“There.”

The volume of bitterness contained in that one word made Gordon flinch again. His heart ached for Scott but having witnessed the scene when they’d arrived back - John desperately trying to calm a newly woken and intensely distressed Virgil and Scott, utterly defeated and cringing back against the wall… he was rather inclined to accede to Grandma’s point of view.

“It’s not forever, he’ll get better and then realise that you’re the real one and not…”

“Dad, who he apparently hates.” Scott slumped against the wall alongside Gordon and picked at piece of loose plaster.

“I don’t think he hates him, exactly. He’s just… confused.”

“Is he still… I mean… am I… err is the…other me still on the scene?”

“Apparently so. He was chatting away earlier. He’s not unhappy right now, he’s… well as ok as he can be.”

“Yeah as long as I’m not around.”

“Well… as far as he is concerned you are. He doesn’t think you’ve abandoned him or anything, Scotty.”

Scott swore quietly and kicked the wall. The swore rather more loudly and shook his abused foot.

“I hate this.”

“I know. It sucks. Look, hopefully it won’t be long. Why don’t you go and get some sleep, you’ve been awake for…”

Gordon registered the immediate threat to his survival being telegraphed from the sky blue and shifted tack seamlessly:

“Can I get you something to eat?”

Scott shook his head and curled himself back on to his shelf, eyes fixed on the infirmary door. Gordon knew he was dismissed and headed onwards, quietly deciding he would bring back something calorific that his big brother might be tempted to consume when nobody was looking.

And maybe a chair.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #Idontknowreallywhy

[gumnut-logic]

There is so much to love about this! The reflection of Scott in Virgil and his micromovements - just slap me with a new headcanon, why don’t you. I love it!

So much emotion. This is a strenuous fic! But the love is there. Ever so there.

::hugs you silly::

::pours another bucket of meringue on your head because I can::

Resurface 14 - Revive

Previous bits here

It’s genuinely becoming a concern as to whether there are enough good words beginning with Re to get them through this… but they will, I promise.

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It was an unfortunate but inevitable side effect of their occupation: Every Tracy had spent far too much time waiting by the bedside of a brother, willing them to open their eyes and say something to prove they would be ok. Scott, due to being able to thrive perfectly well for several days on catnapping alone, probably held the record. Virgil likely came a close second, although he was much more adept at snoozing heavily while he waited.

Scott kept vigil as always.

This time, though, it felt different. The longing to see his brother’s eyes peer up at him had never been tinged with dread before. He had never been afraid of what would happen when a brother awoke before. Of what a newly awoken brother might say. That… was new.

John waited too. Aside from chivvying each other to visit the toilet occasionally, neither were keen to leave each other’s presence, or Virgil’s. The others wouldn’t return with Grandma for a couple of hours yet, and Kayo was working with Brains on a better failsafe for Shadow and the other birds. For now, it was just the three of them.

The sedative had been wearing off slowly. Really, really, really slowly.

Agonisingly slowly.

There were two signs - the occasional bumps in heart rate were the easiest to track and John monitored these with his usual precision, occasionally passing a quiet comment as to the length and volume of the spikes.

Scott was more focussed on the other - the tiniest of movements in Virgil’s hands which had been lying limp on top of the covers, and which Scott had gently arranged and rearranged to try to find the most natural position for muscles and ligaments to rest in. He watched and waited and pondered whether he should move his brother’s right thumb a little to the left - was the hand too curled up, or was it meant to be that way? He was aware that there were probably much bigger issues at play right now but he didn’t want his brother to end up with aches that might hinder his playing or drawing. And this… this he could do something about.

He sighed and adjusted the thumb minutely, then pretending he hadn’t noticed John pretending not to notice.

It occurred to him that he never really saw Virgil’s hands at rest. His brother was always either tinkering with something, gesticulating expressively as he conversed, or tapping out a rhythm on the biceps of his folded arms… his denim clad thighs… or whatever surface happened to be nearby. Scott’s shoulder was not exempt as a surface but he never mentioned it for fear Virgil would become self-conscious and less inclined to casually throw his arm around his big brother at every opportunity.

Scott could never adequately explain even to himself how much it meant when Virgil did that. Neither could he articulate how when the arm eventually lifted and they went their separate ways, Scott would sometimes feel as he couldn’t be properly warm again until his brother’s arm was back where it belonged… his fingers unconsciously sharing with his big brother whatever pulse had captured his soul at that moment.

As children it was always Scott’s inability to stay put that people noticed: ‘If only you could stay still like your brother, look he’s sitting so nicely.’ Even then Scott knew, as had their Mom, that they weren’t so very different. Scott’s need to move was expressed on the macro plane, Virgil’s was no less insistent but hidden from the inattentive on the micro level.

And so Scott waited and watched for the familiar movement to return. John’s comm pulsed and he stepped out of the room to answer the call.

A stronger twitch of the fingers was accompanied by the slightest hint of tension in Virgil’s jaw. Scott reached out and placed his hand over one of his brother’s, seeking connection with that flicker of life… then picked up his hand and held it close to his chest. He found himself leaning forwards so that he could feel his brother’s breath on his cheek, seeking reassurance that Virgil was in there and would come back to him.

This meant, of course, that Scott’s eardrum was in prime exploding distance when Virgil yelled his name.

“SCOTT!”

The despair in that scream resonated through every cell of his body and Scott couldn’t do anything but wrap his brother in his arms and screw his eyes shut. Ear determinedly ringing, he felt the vibrations of Virgil’s pleading as clearly as he could hear them:

“Don’… pleee!! Sco…. I can’d w’ou… Da… NNN… Scoddy nnnnn…”

Scott hated waking from any kind of sedation - the sensation of being trapped, helpless between worlds, where the nightmares were stronger than reality. What kind of nightmare was Virgil experiencing? Or… Scott felt his throat constrict and buried his face in Virgil’s hair… was it worse than that? Was he, in fact, reliving emotions no brother should ever have to experience even the once?

“Sssshhh I’m here, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m not leaving you Virgil, I promise. I’m here.”

John had come running at the shout and Scott felt rather than saw his presence in the doorway, radiating questions and concern. Scott glanced up and shook his head minutely.

Even that slight movement was too much - Virgil gasped and his fingers tightened in a vice grip around Scott’s biceps, his face pushed hard into his collarbone. Big brother kissed the top of his head and little brother relaxed a little, taking a long breath in through his nose before going limp in Scott’s arms, apparently unconscious again. Scott laid him back gently on to the pillow and gently stroked the hair from Virgil’s damp forehead.

The mattress dipped as John perched carefully on the side of the bed, taking hold of Virgil’s hand and resting his other lightly on Scott’s shoulder. He squeezed gently and Scott placed his free hand on top of John’s.

And they waited.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #Idontknowreallywhy

[gumnut-logic]

::sobs on your shoulder::

Resurface 13 - Relive

Parts 1-12 here.

Again, apologies to John. This was meant to be Virgil’s story but you’re the only one who remembers it so… guess I’ve hit you pretty hard with the bad feelings stick also. You get a hug out of it though so err, it’s all fine 😁

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John hadn’t taken his eyes off Virgil the entire time he had been speaking. Scott had remained as still as possible, maintaining the limited physical contact between them but trying not to do anything to interrupt the sudden flood of words. Once he got going, his usually reticent brother could paint a vivid verbal picture from that incredible memory of his. It was just John was very rarely emotionally unrestrained enough to get going in the first place.

Scott was torn between needing to know every last detail that could possibly help him understand what to do next and wanting to envelop his rigid little brother in a crushing hug and tell him to stop. To stop because it was ok now and Scott could fix it by himself and wasn’t going to make him relive it again.

The need to know won. Because he needed to know this now to help save another little brother from an unknown threat. And he couldn’t do it alone - this one couldn’t be a solo op.

Scott was not oblivious to the fact there could be a secondary rescue mission of sorts once the primary one was dealt with.

He was doing a fairly good job of compartmentalising so far. He restrained his emotional reaction to hearing Virgil had punched Dad. He kept still, tried not to flinch. He locked away the creeping sense of horror and focussed on the fragments on information that might help now - John’s account of Virgil’s demeanour, the words that had upset him and triggered a violent reaction. Trying to pinpoint precisely what Dad had got wrong and Scott could try to do differently. John hadn’t heard much of their conversation which complicated matters and Scott forced himself to put to one side the question of whether he could fix whatever Virgil’s issue with their father was - that was a question for later. Right now, they just needed to retrieve Virgil from wherever he had got lost.

So focussed was he on analysing that interaction, in fact, that he almost missed the next part of John’s story and when the meaning of his words filtered into his brain all the carefully crafted compartments crumbled to rubble.

“HE FELL?!”

John started and twisted to look at Scott.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t get there in time. I should have been closer. I should have been better…”

Scott gave in to the crushing hug urge and John did not appear to object. They sat there a moment, John, seemingly entirely drained, had melted into Scott’s chest, his big brother repeating reassuring things about how John couldn’t have known, that he wasn’t to blame for events out of his control. A little voice in the back of Scott’s mind suggested it wasn’t only John that needed to remember this. He ignored it in favour of trying to work out how on Earth Virgil had survived a 3 and a half storey fall and how Scott could possibly have remained unaware of it.

John appeared to read his thoughts and pulled back to look him in the face.

“He didn’t fall the whole way. I think his clothes got caught, or he managed to grab on to the edge of the roof which slowed his momentum. He fell from there to the glass overhang of the verandah. Hit his head pretty hard though… we heard it.”

That part of the glass roof had remained cracked for years… Brains eventually replaced the whole thing with a more durable material during his upgrades to the ranch. Scott had never thought to ask how it had become damaged, everything in the aftermath of getting home was such a blur perhaps at the time he hadn’t even realised it was new.

“Hence the ambulance.”

“Yes. I don’t know how they got him down. Gordon and Alan were… upset… and I had to be with them, not let them see… just in case…” John tailed off uncharacteristically and looked up at the ceiling, then rallied himself.

“Grandma arrived some hours later and told us he’d survived the fall but was sick. And then it was just the four of us for a while - Dad stayed at the hospital with Virgil.”

“Wait, Dad didn’t call to tell you before that?!”

“He had a lot going on. I’m not sure he wasn’t slightly concussed as well actually.”

Scott’s blood was unnaturally chilly as he contemplated what that meant.

“All that time you didn’t know…”

John blinked rapidly, wrinkled his nose and cleared his throat before looking away from Scott and fixing his gaze on Virgil.

“I thought I’d lost both of you, yes.”

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #Idontknowreallywhy

[gumnut-logic]

You threw him off the roof!!! After that!!!!

::wails at the broken boi::

::bounces M&Ms off your forehead::

So much ouch!

Resurface 12 - Remember

Parts 1-11 here

So… we finally find out what happened on the roof. Sort of… *cough* sorry Johnny… and Virg… and Jeff. And Scott who I presume is on the receiving end of some version of this account from John…

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He’d done what he was asked. The kids were “kept out of the way” even if they were yelling and crying and rattling pointlessly at the door handle he’d wedged the chair under. He felt awful about it but they had to be safe, not see anything… worrying. Anything that could cause them more problems than they already had. But he couldn’t just stay and babysit when everything might be going wrong. Dad might need help.

John should have seen this was coming. He should have paid more attention. He should have stopped it. He should have been less selfish. Pressing his knuckles into the spaces between his nose and his eyeballs he swallowed hard then raised his voice above the yelling, told Gordon and Alan he’d be back in just a minute. Then with suddenly trembling limbs followed his father up the fold down ladder to the flat part of the roof they used for stargazing.

The sky was cloudless, the sun had just set and blue hour was upon them, the iron oxide-soaked sandstone gleaming as red as any of Dad’s Martian landscape images. Here, in the lee of the dormer there was a dead calm, as if the wind was anxiously holding its breath in the same way John was. His father, about 5 feet above him was edging carefully across the ridge towards where the peaked roof of John’s third storey attic room loomed over the rest of the ranch. Dad looked back over his shoulder and frowned, silently demanding silence.

John complied. His throat had seized up anyway. As had pretty much every nerve in his body the moment as his eyes drifted past his father’s clambering form to the figure standing tall at the highest point of the roof. He clung to the railing at the top of the stairs and prayed to anyone that would listen that this wasn’t what it looked like.

Virgil was stood at the highest point of the roof, one hand resting atop the chimney stack, the other gesticulating as if he was engaged in a passionate debate. His posture was so familiar, the unstyled hair hanging in his face, less so. He couldn’t hear exactly what his brother was saying but his tone was friendly, good humoured even. Which, given the circumstances, was downright eerie.

A solitary bird of prey wailed impatiently as it hovered overhead. Peregrine, probably, John realised with a pang. Scott would point them out as they passed through every spring and every fall. He remembered the otherwise ‘so much more grown up than you lot’ fourteen year old bouncing gleefully around the yard the day they’d seen a female stoop on a pigeon right overhead. Every Tracy knew, because he reminded them often, that that was the fastest any living creature could travel under its own steam, although Scott was determined to break that record one day.

John was aware it should probably be ‘had been’ but was not in any way ready to make that shift. Not in any way at all. He swallowed hard at the lump threatening to close up his throat and returned his attention to his next biggest brother. He edged slightly closer as Dad finally reached Virgil and held out a hand.

Virgil didn’t take it.

More wailing from above, multiple voices this time. John, unable to resist glancing up at the sound, counted a group of four hastening through the sky towards the lone dot in the distance which he imagined wheeling back around at the cries of waaaaaaait-waaaaaait. Scott’s reverent voice reminded him that these birds travelled alone except for newly fledged siblings who would undertake their first big migration together for protection and moral support.

“YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE!”

Virgil’s raised voice dragged John’s attention back - how had he lost concentration? What had he missed? His father was talking in a low voice, but John detected an edge he could quite place? He was… uncertain? That wasn’t like Dad at all. To hell with it, he had to get over there. He abandoned stealth and scrambled along the roof until the frustrated pain in his brother’s shout stopped him in his tracks.

“WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HELP HIM?!”

Virgil’s back was to his father and he flinched away as Dad reached out to touch his shoulder.

“HE’S GONE, VIRGIL! THIS IS JUST… A… A FANTASY…! YOU HAVE TO COME DOWN! Please…”

His father’s voice was finally raised but then cracked, agonisingly, on that last word and Virgil spun to face him, fury in his eyes.

Time slowed. John felt tension thicken the air, as potent as the moment before a storm breaks and it resolved in much the same way: With a roar of anger and a strike of pent up energy from Virgil’s muscular arm.

Dad crumpled to his knees and leant heavily against the chimney breast. There was absolute silence. John tore his eyes from his father to gape up at his strongest yet most determinedly non-violent brother, in time to see the horrified expression on Virgil’s face, staring at his own clenched fist as though it belonged to someone else entirely. He looked around in a panic and began to shuffle backwards away from his father, more like a small, frightened animal about to bolt than the broad, reassuring presence John knew him to be.

John was moving before his mind even registered the implications. Of course he was too slow, he should have been there to start with. He called out to try to warn him but only succeeded in causing his brother’s eyes to lock on to his for the split second before they widened further and he disappeared from view.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #Jeff Tracy #Idontknowreallywhy