#jeff tracy

[paigedillustrates]

Some of my OLD Thunderbirds fan art 🙈 The first three are from 8 years ago… @idontknowreallywhy wanted me to share them with the rest of the Thunderbirds Are Go fans 🙃 They’re a LITTLE embarrassing and the photo quality is AWFUL… but oh well.

I was a traditional artist back then ☺️💕

The last picture of Kayo is my most recent piece, so you can compare 🌷

#thunderbirds fandom #tag fan art #thunderbirds fanart #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderfam #thunderbirds are go #kayo kyrano #gordon tracy #lady penelope #scott tracy #john tracy #tracy island #jeff tracy #virgil tracy #artists on tumblr #old art #digital illustration #traditional illustration #this is so embarrassing

[flyboytracy]

It's been a long day without you, my friend And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again We've come a long way from where we began Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again When I see you again

#Thunderbirds Are Go #The Long Reach #Jeff Tracy #Scott Tracy #it will make me sad if TLR doesn't win #a moment like this is so rare #to go from Recharge to this is just #it makes my heart do things #I'll never see my dad again but Scott saved his #he saved his

[lenfantdeverone]

I think this one picture on Jeff's desk in the movie isn't talked about enough, it's so cute and silly and Jeff has the classic dad™️ pose

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderfam #tracy family #jeff tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy

[hebuiltfive]

This is brought up all the time but it never fails to amuse me.

The Great Jeff Tracy (if we're taking his b'day as the late noughties) would have been a Gen Z kid. He'd have been on TikTok. He'd have been around in the heyday of all these influencers. He'd be fifteen years young currently.

Jeff Tracy was a Gen Z kid.

This will never not baffle me.

#i think its more shocking to think about tos jeff tbh #obviously in the 60s they had no idea about what the future would actually be like #but that makes it all the more fun #five rambles #thunder rambles #jeff tracy #thunderbirds

[edutainer2022]

It's a little two-part glimpse into Dad Jeff going away into the sky. And Scotty being not happy about it. Baby Virgil features briefly too. Jeff Tracy tells himself things that tide him over more difficult times (but are not necessarily true).

SEPARATION ANXIETY

It was unbearable. The little face of the boy in his arms was wrought with boundless grief. Bright blue eyes full of tears and fear.

"Daddy, no gooooo! No gooooo!"

Tiny hands were clutching the collar of his uniform. The boy's voice was choking on sobs and Jeff felt his heart being ripped out. He was due at the base for a pick up and relocation for training before the Moon mission. He was a breath away from calling in his resignation right then and there and never leaving his son ever again. He forced himself to exhale and hoisted the child higher, bringing their forheads together. That gave Jeff a chance to blink away tears of his own:

"It's okay, Scotty. It's okay. Daddy will be back soon. I have a very important job for you, Bluejay. Look after Mommy and Virgie, when I'm gone, okay? Can you do that for me?"

The child's sobs halted for a moment it took him to nod very earnestly. Jeff leaned in to kiss the boy's forehead and then kiss away the tears from the blotchy little face as best he could. He turned to his wife with an apologetic smile.

Lucy was hovering in the doorway all this time, ready to intervene. Dad's departure for the Moon was a matter of wide-eyed wonder and endless enthusiasm till it was actually time for Jeff to leave. Then it quickly dissolved into a Greek tragedy. Her own hands were full with the baby. Little Virgie didn't yet understand what was happening, but he developed an uncanny ability to pick up his brother's moods. So to echo Scotty's desperate pleas, the baby's tears were now inconsolable.

Scotty settled to hug Dad's neck, so Jeff beaconed his wife with Virgie to step into the embrace. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he reached to kiss the baby.

"Are you really gonna be okay?"

She smiled up at him. So beautiful.

"We'll miss you like crazy, Flyboy. But we'll be alright. We're in good hands."

She lifted a hand to rub soothing circles on Scotty's back. The baby calmed down too and looked ready for a nap. Jeff gave himself extra minutes to just hold them all together. He didn't know yet he was already holding three sons in that embrace. Baby Johnny was to arrive while he was still thousands of miles away on the Moon. But in that moment he needed to capture the perfect memory of balance and fulfillment that would tide him over a long night in space. They were going to be alright.

***

It was unthinkable. The whole situation was his worst nightmare come true. The hijacked Zero-X was obviously speeding up and overheating. He ran a quick math and the fallout would quite easily cause an extinction of life on the planet. Unacceptable - his sons lived on that planet. His mother and friends. What made matters worse was giving in to Scott's big blue pleading eyes to let him come with him in One and watch the T-drive launch. Little Allie definitely learned to step up his puppy eyes game from the best. So Jeff was now stuck with the impossible variables of his son in the blast zone and One's still untested autopilot.

"Scott, I need you to take over the controls for me!"

He was halfway out of the pilot seat, leaving One on hover. Bright blue eyes, flooded with horror, shot up at him from where Scott was adjusting the harness by the cargo doors (oh, goodness, the boy was actually prepping to board Zero-X himself!)

"Dad! You can't go down alone!"

There it was. Daddy, no gooo! Jeff had to brace himself to enter full Commander mode.

"I need you to follow Zero-X flight path, align in formation. Once I board the hull, you will bank and scout the possible fallout zone perimeter in a thousand miles radius. I need you to shoo, tow or scare away anything that will be flying or floating there, understood?"

Jeff was sorely tempted to set the milage at a farther distance (as far and as fast away as possible, just fly away, Bluejay!), but he couldn't risk Scott questioning his intent in the moment. Blue eyes were still flooded with disbelief, pleading and barely concealed tears.

"Dad, please! Let me come with you! You'll need help!"

Daddy, no goooo!

"That's an order, Thunderbird!"

When he'd come to in the Zero-X wreck, in the middle of the galactic nowhere, and for endless years to come, he'd try and soothe himself with the knowledge Scott obeyed the order and got safely away from the blast. From that point on Jeff would try to convince himself he was not worried. Scotty knew what his job was. He'd look after his brothers and Grandma. They would be alright.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy needs his dad #jeff tracy needs a hug #mom tracy and baby virgil are there too #so is zero-x #methinks i have astronomy #my fic #thunderbirds 2015 #scott tracy needs a hug

[bearskvlls]

i heard there was a more active thunderbirds fandom on here so....... hello 👁️👁️💦

nice to meet you!! please enjoy "jeff tracy learns how to use a cell phone" and know that more thunderbirds fanart is on the way :^)

gonna be sharing sketches for now bc i've been out of state, but i'll be reunited with my tablet soon and will clean and color these and many more!!

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #thunderbirds tos #jeff tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #artists on tumblr #sketchbook #fanart #thunderbirds fanart

[idontknowreallywhy]

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…

🧡💚💙🧡💚💙🧡💚🧡💚💙🧡💚🧡💙🧡

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.

🧡💚💙🧡💚💙🧡💚🧡💚💙🧡💚🧡💙🧡

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #Jeff Tracy #scott Tracy #MIA Scott #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #resurface fic #tw: psychosis

[gumnut-logic]

Five times Alan discovered a secret and one time he kept one (Part One)

I wrote something! I'm a little rusty, but words happened!

Many thanks to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight for the read through and sanity check.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

Alan blinked. Virgil’s voice was little more than a low rumble through the wall. If Alan hadn’t been practising his handstands up against that wall, he probably wouldn’t have heard his brother.

Of course, Dad’s office was the best place not to be at most times, but for some reason this exact spot in the hallway was the only place Alan could stand on his hands for any length of time.

He’d tried his bedroom, Gordon’s bed, Virgil’s bed, John’s bed, three of the outside walls, the big tree out in the field, the kitchen wall - Grandma had growled so much - and the living room.

The living room wall wasn’t conclusive as Grandma had chased him out before the soles of his sneakers had touched the wall.

But this spot was the best. No-one hung around outside Dad’s office and Dad had never noticed.

“Scott needs this.”

“This isn’t just about Scott.”

Alan swallowed. Scott had been sick for a long time. It had all been so scary. There had been yelling late at night, and once Alan had heard his brother screaming.

It had been terrifying.

Grandma said that his big brother had been hurt while he was in the air force and he needed time to recover.

But Scotty had been so sad. He still gave great hugs, but he never smiled any more.

Alan wasn’t dumb. He had access to the information nets and he had looked up things that could cause his brother to be so sad. He guessed it was something to do with his mental health, but no one was telling him anything.

He’d asked Virgil and the look on his big brother’s face was almost as sad as Scotty’s, scaring Alan even more.

But Virgil sat him down and explained about someone hurting Scott and Scott just needing some time to get better.

Which was exactly what everyone else had said and didn’t fix anything! Alan wanted his fun big brother back. He wanted to find whoever had hurt Scotty and punch them really hard.

A bigger hunt on the nets pretty much confirmed it was a mental health thing, but the possibilities were endless and more and more terrifying. He had worried and fretted for weeks.

But then one day Scotty had started smiling again. It was sudden and it had Alan running across the kitchen to hug him.

Scott had grunted, like he always did when Alan tackle-hugged him, but this time his big brother picked him up and squeezed him ever so tight in return. He even messed up his hair.

Scott was finally feeling better! The days following proved it to Alan. But there was still something in his brother’s eyes that hadn’t been there before and he still tired more easily, the tap of his cane his constant companion. It was obvious that not everything was one hundred percent.

But Alan had been granted a smile and he was going to take it and run with it. He was ever grateful for it.

“You don’t have to be part of International Rescue, Virgil.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not letting him do this on his own. Or you, or John.”

“You are not responsible for any of us. If you do this, you have to do it for yourself.”

There was silence for a moment and Alan held his breath. What was ‘International Rescue’?

“I am, Dad.”

“But you don’t want to do it.”

“I didn’t say that! I’m worried about Scott. He is clinging to this like a lifeline. It’s not healthy-“

“Sometimes we need to make do to survive.”

There was a creak of furniture as if someone was sitting down. “Dad…”

Soft footsteps. “He needs this, Virgil. I need this.”

Alan froze where he was, upside down against the wall, all his blood rushing to his head, not daring to move and risk being heard.

His brother’s answer was a whisper. “I know.” So quiet.

“You are so much like your mother. She would be so proud of you.”

Alan squeezed his eyes shut. Their mother was a ghost in this house. Someone rarely spoken about but always there. Alan felt left out and guilty for asking questions about their mother.

Scott and Virgil had shown him the photos and videos. Dad didn’t talk about her ever.

Alan had also asked Gordon, but his youngest big brother had only been six and his memories were vague.

At least he didn’t have that weird look in his eyes when Alan mentioned her. His mom was a big hole in his identity, a mostly unknown, hurting black hole.

‘International Rescue’ had something to do with Mom.

But Virgil didn’t say anything Alan could hear.

He grit his teeth. Part of him wanted to flip onto his feet and get out of there but the rest of him wanted to know what his father and brother were talking about.

“So, we are on schedule for April?”

Alan let out a breath.

“Yes. It’s best to avoid the cyclone season and in the meantime finish our preparations.”

“When are we telling Gordon and Allie?”

Again footsteps, this time walking away. “Alan’s birthday, as planned. We’ll make it a surprise, a positive.”

Silence. “You know my thoughts about that.”

“Are you going to fight me on everything?! This is a good thing, Virgil! We will be saving lives!”

“We have lives here! We have family and we need to keep them safe!”

“How does telling them on Alan’s birthday hurt any of us?”

“We’ll be leaving everything Allie knows. His friends, his school, everything, to live on an island in the middle of the ocean. I think that has the potential to hurt. A lot.”

Alan found himself holding his breath. They were leaving the farm?!

“So we should tell them sooner?” It was sharp and mocking.

“Alan will need time. He’s only nine, Dad. This is a big thing.”

“For all of us.”

“Exactly!”

Again silence fell and all Alan could hear was the thudding of his own heart.

“Alan, Grandma is going to force feed you burnt cookies if she finds shoe marks on the wall.” His big brother’s jean-clad legs suddenly appeared near Alan’s head.

He should have heard the cane. Why didn’t he hear the cane?!

Alan teetered sideways and nearly took out the hall table beside him. Strong arms wrapped around his legs and saved the life of one of Grandma’s flower vases.

Unfortunately, Scott must have dropped his cane and, along with it, his extra support and balance. A squawk and clatter of limbs and Alan found himself in a heap on the floor beside his big brother.

For a moment he lay there staring at his brother’s profile - his nose, weird dimples and messed up hair. “You okay, Scotty?”

His brother let out a breath. “Yeah. Just checking the ceiling for cobwebs.”

Alan would have grinned at the joke (paraphrasing a Gordon much put out at missing the growth spurt that had almost every other brother scraping the tops of door frames) but his head was a mess of questions.

He grabbed his big brother in a desperate hug.

“Hey, Allie, you okay?” Warm arms were wrapped around him, holding him tight.

“Scott!” Virgil’s voice startled both of them. Hurried footsteps rushed over.

“I’m fine! Something’s up with Allie.”

Alan looked up from his big brother’s arms to find Virgil kneeling down between them. Behind him, tall and dark-haired, stood their father.

His grey eyes pierced into Alan’s head.

“Allie, what’s wrong?” Scott had worry in his tone, something Alan did not want to hear.

“I don’t want to move to an island.” It came out small and scared.

Scott stiffened beside him and pulled away a little.

Virgil whispered something Alan couldn’t quite hear.

Alan stared up at their father. “I don’t want to go.”

-o-o-o-

Part 2

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy #younger tracys #nuttyfic

[skymaiden32]

Running an elite rescue organisation is stressful sometimes…

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderfam #jeff tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #thunderbirds fanart #sky draws stuff #thunderbirds shorts #thunderbirds meme

[flyboytracy]

My child arrived just the other day He came to the world in the usual way But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay He learned to walk while I was away And he was talking 'fore I knew it, and as he grew He'd say "I'm gonna be like you, dad" "You know I'm gonna be like you"

#Thunderbirds Are Go #The Long Reach #Jeff Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy

[alexthefly]

Take My Hand

This was supposed to be a @flashfictionfridayofficial , but I was a bit late and got my timezones mixed up, and then the word count went over and... well here it is anyway.

Or read it on AO3 here.

Also tagging @tagloveandthunderbirds 'cos ❤️

Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds are Go

Word count: 1048

Warnings: feet/shoes

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

“You ready to do this, Sweetheart?”

Lucy took her time smoothing down the front of her dress, purposely not looking at the empty dance floor yawning in front of her.

“Are you? You know dancing isn't exactly my forte; a first dance in front of all these people just seems like asking for trouble." She shuffled in her chair. "Are trampled feet covered by the wedding insurance?”

Jeff snickered. “I checked the policy just before I came over here. We’re all set.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. But I’m wearing heels, don't forget; it's going to be like Bambi on Ice out there.”

He shrugged. 

“Well I did suggest the hiking boots instead, but you shot me down; something about ‘the aesthetic’. Which looks stunning on you, by the way.” 

He stood back to better take her in, grinning appreciatively.

“Last time I make that mistake,” she muttered, waving away the compliment. “Given ‘the aesthetic’ is currently cutting off the circulation to my pinkie toe, respectfully ‘the aesthetic’ can go jump in a lake.”

She mentally cursed the salesperson who’d talked her into putting fashion ahead of comfort.

Concern flashed across Jeff’s handsome face. “Are they really hurting you, honey? We can get you other shoes.”

She smiled up at him reassuringly. “No really, I’m exaggerating …sort of. They just kinda pinch, that's all.”

If she was totally honest with herself, it wasn't even the salesperson’s fault, really. She’d been the one chasing a dream of being perfect and ladylike, even if it was only this once. Dammit, why was dressing up fancy so hard?!

Of course it didn't help that her new husband managed it so effortlessly. He was currently working ‘the aesthetic’ to within an inch of its life, cutting a very dashing figure in his elegant new grey suit and tie, dress shirt and shoes all perfectly matched and filled out perfectly.

Seriously, where did he get off being so good-looking? 

She’d just wanted to appear worthy of him, that’s all. Jeff Tracy: ace pilot, hometown hero, handsomest guy in the county and a genuinely good man to boot. He was the prince, and just once she’d wanted to feel like she could be his match - a princess - instead of some awkward, clutzy science nerd who’d somehow managed to win the husband lottery.

She sighed. Clearly that wasn't to be.

There was a pause, then without another word her very handsome husband - God, he really did look good in that suit - knelt down in front of her and took one of her feet gently in his hands. He examined the delicate and uncharacteristically high-heeled white shoe with utmost seriousness, before removing it and flinging it across the room.

“Jeff!”

Lucy felt her face burst into flames as a roomful of eyes turned towards them.

“What? Doesn't that feel better?”

In all fairness it absolutely did. She wiggled her newly-released toes appreciatively even as she fought the urge to hide underneath the table.

“You can't just go throwing shoes around. You’re making a scene.”

He stopped and looked at her, ignoring the rest of the room, then slowly and deliberately reached out and took hold of her other foot.

“I want to enjoy a dance with my beautiful new wife, and if these admittedly pretty little shoes are getting in the way of that…” 

The second shoe flew over his shoulder, just missing a nearby waiter.

“...then they’ve gotta go.”

The room was hushed; everyone was looking at them. Part of her wanted to run and hide in the coatroom until they’d all gone, but he was holding her gaze, keeping her steady. 

“I don't want anything getting between me and the most amazing, beautiful, perfect person I ever saw, ever again.”

He rose gracefully to his feet and held out his hand to her.

“So how about it? May I have this dance?”

…

It was late spring and the cicadas were singing. Airbase staff were bustling all around, knocking into her, sending papers flying everywhere. She knelt down to pick them up, and suddenly there was a hand in front of her.

“Can I give you a hand, Miss?”

…

It was fall, and the trees around them were every shade of red. They’d talked about everything and nothing, walking side by side, until he stopped and reached out to her.

“Would it be alright if I held your hand?”

…

It was winter and the snow was falling softly. His ice skates made long swooshing noises on the ice around her, while hers clacked noisily as she tried and failed to keep her footing. Another swoosh and then he was there in front of her, hand extended.

“Okay, so not my best idea. How about we go get a hot chocolate instead? My treat?”

…

It was the last days of summer, and the clear water of the lake lapped at her toes. She’d never felt so happy in her life. A perfect day. Beside her she felt him shift nervously, and then he was holding his hand out, a little red box in it, one knee on the ground.

“I’ve got a question I wanna ask…”

…

Her head flooded with the memories of a hundred moments, small and huge, all of them important. A hundred images of him offering his hand, and at last she understood.

He'd reached out for her.

She was the one. And she was worthy, just as she was.

Smiling, she accepted the offered hand.

“Of course you may, Mr Tracy.”

He grinned and bowed. “Why thankyou, Mrs Tracy.”

She rose and he led her, barefoot and spotlit, to the dance floor without a care in the world. Keeping her hand in his, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, enveloping her like a delicate, precious treasure, safe and protected. Their eyes met and he beamed at her like his face was made of actual sunshine.

She grinned back at him.

“You’re sure about that wedding insurance now? Last chance.”

“Don’t you worry about my toes, darlin’. Just keep a hold of me and we’ll do fine.”

And with that the band struck up an old favourite, and hand-in-hand they danced the night away.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you.

#tag:love&thunderbirds #jeff tracy #lucy tracy #thunderfluff #romance #alexthefly fic #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #FFF238 #...kinda #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go fanfiction

[squiddokiddo]

❤: Which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom? >:3

I think a lot of them are mischaracterised in fandom, there's a lot of fanon stuff I just disagree with.

I think the most though is probably Jeff. The fandom seems split over what kind of father he is, either down right neglectful and absent leaving Scott to pick up the pieces or this amazing, involved with everything, knows his boys like the back of his hand kinda dad.

Jeff barely has 20 mins of screen time in TAG so it's difficult to get an idea of who he really is but going off of TOS, I think he's a reasonably stern but fair military dad who wants to be involved with his kids' lives more but his job (and also being missing for like 8 years) has prevented him from doing it. He has a kinda "hands off" parenting style, through out their childhoods, he's always known his boys were responsible enough to deal with themselves mostly and grandma was around all the time to cook and keep an eye out for them, but his kids could always poke their heads around his office door when they need help. They love him and he loves them dearly but he's not really lovey dovey or affectionate beyond a brief dad hug and a pat on the back. Typical 1960's kinda parenting.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #jeff tracy #unpopular opinion asks #ask game #squiddo's inbox #squiddokiddo answers #mrmustachious

[edutainer2022]

So I got under the weather - fever, sore throat, snuffles, the works. But I am "busy" (tm) and, therefore, need to be "fine" (tm). So I'm indulgently reposting a little fluffy Tracy-fever piece I wrote out this summer. I may or may not be eyeing another fever-snippet in my notes. Depends on how "fine" (tm) I am. Please, enjoy!

PUPPY BASKET

A puppy basket. Jeff didn't recall who exactly coined the term - his wife or himself. Or maybe his mother. The point was - with three kids so close in age (and then two more down the line) the flues and colds, and stomach bugs tore through the bunch like a wildfire. There was not enough manpower in the household to keep up with sick boys quarantined in different rooms. So it was just easier and more expedient to stash the sniveling and coughing, and sniffling, and generally miserable puppy ball in the master bedroom. Lucy and himself took shifts sitting vigil, giving meds and fluids, kissing burning up brows. If he were planetside, of course. Later, when the boys' mother was gone, it would be, likely, Scott's room and the elder boys taking up watch hours, while he was busy with grief and work. The one time he came home from New York to find all five boys succumbed to a flu, pretty much delirious in his room, little Alan hoarse from crying - even Scott too weak from fever to call Grandma (and too anxious to call 911 lest child services got a wiff) was a memory he didn't dare revisit often.

He could distantly recall that a feverish Scott would be restless, Virgil would be cuddly, John would be clingy. Gordon would peel off any scrap of clothes on him. Someone would invariably end up upside down with feet propped on the pillow.

That morning got him investigating in Scott's room first thing. Gordon and Alan drew a short straw and were off for a supply run early on (a bright and whistling Gordon and a grumpy half-asleep Alan). Virgil was not expected down this side of 10 am, John was just back from orbit the night before. But Scott never made it to see the Tinies (did they even call the boys that anymore? Alan was starting college in a month!) off, have his run and a morning coffee-cum-strategy session with Dad - something that had become a new, cherished routine for them. The parent alarm in him, that never lay quite dormant even through the endless night of the Oort Cloud, was now blaring full force.

Fair enough, Jeff found his eldest room in an uncharacteristic disarray - a blanket kicked off all the way from the foot of the bed down to the floor, last day clothes scattered on the carpeting - something he came to recognize more as the youngest style, not Scott, who had tried to emulate Dad's military crisp order since he was five and learned to make his own bed. Scott was soon found by his father's increasingly concerned gaze in the middle of the bed, tangled sheets and disheveled curls a testament to a night of tossing and turning, breathing shallow and raspy. Jeff's immediate guess was a nightmare - heaven knows he was no stranger to warding off those, plaguing his boy's naturally light sleep. But a fine sheen of sweat, covering Scott's face and neck, belied a different answer altogether. Jeff wasn't surprised, when the brow he reached for to smooth away the soaked fringe, was burning. Scott wasn't asleep per se - eyes squeezed shut against a headache - but he definitely wasn't alert and present either. Jeff wasn't surprised, but he was getting increasingly panicked. His own mother gave him a semi-clean bill of health and was currently in Kansas, helping a friend out. The time difference made the call tricky. Not impossible, of course, there  was no inconvenience Grandma wouldn't go through for him or his boys, for which Jeff was eternally greatful, but all the more weary to disturb his getting increasingly fragile Ma more, than necessary. Kayo was visiting with her own father, so that was not an option as well. The problem was, with Grandma away, there was no medic on the island. Unless, of course... Jeff remembered Virgil determined and precise with a medscanner, and later - all business and in-trade jibberish with the medical staff at the rehab center he had to spend first months back on Earth at. Despite budding worry, as Scott keened quietly and shifted under his father's soothing touch, Jeff smiled fondly. Virgil was, arguably, the closest to his Grandpa in looks and demeanor, but it appeared he followed his Grandma's professional leanings. He should try and wake Virgil up. Scott was definitely under the weather.

As if on cue, the door opened and a gigantic burrito walked in. Jeff started. The burrito was, upon a closer inspection, a human, barefoot, wrapped up in a blanket head to toe. The walking burrito was also eliciting grunts and a lung-splitting cough. Ouch. The intruder ignored Jeff completely, sidestepped the bundle of clothes on the floor, and collapsed on the bed, next to Scott, wrapping the latter immediately in a cocoon of limbs and blanket, like a cuddle pillow. Scott is restless, Virgil is cuddly... Jeff was beginning to get a bad, bad feeling about it. A quick dive into the fluffy depths of fabric and hair confirmed his fear - Virgil had a fever too. That left...

"John!" - he had to spring from the edge of the bed with speed and agility that would make his physiotherapist proud in time to catch a swaying ginger son from planting face first on the floor. John appeared soundlessly, a ghostly vision, almost translucent where he would normally be pale. A sneeze almost send them both toppling again, but Jeff managed to maintain balance and helped John walk the short distance to the other side of the bed. There was no question how the ginger was going to spend his spiking fever - the moment he climbed onto the mattress, John attached himself to Scott side like a limpet, the way Jeff had only seen Alan do so far. When sick, Scott was restless, Virgil was cuddly, and John was clingy. Well, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Puppy basket is go!

Jeff was halfway through the mental checklist of things he would need to make the logistics of his three eldest sons down for the count work (fluids, medscanner and monitors to keep track of the fevers, ask Brains if the medkits were in the same spots now, call Ma as soon as the time difference would permit, coax, trick and blackmail the boys into cold meds and cough syrup, call Gordon and Alan to stay away for the day and to go fetch Grandma from the farm, make sure Brains was alright and quarantined in his lab and rooms, check himself up, because Jeff needed to be on top of his game for the sick boys - the day and the following night could be tough), when a loud shriek pierced the silence of the room. Scott was frowning and trying the disentangle himself from Virgil's death grip. Jeff reached for his agitated son's shoulder and rubbed a thumb over - in the haze of the fever Scott could get disoriented and start fighting any restraint. Jeff knew the boy would never forgive himself, if he hurt Virgil, even unintentionally. But Scott was not to be easily placated. His face contorted with effort and, likely, a worsened sinus pain, to Jeff's astonishment, the young man grabbed a barely protesting John, lifted him bodily over his own frame, like he was a... well... puppy, and stuffed him into Virgil's arms, that immediately closed the hug around a different brother, as Scott rolled to the side in a sleek stealth maneuver. He would have rolled all the way over the edge of the bed, had Dad's arms not stopped him. That must have computed to the cold addled brain as "safe", since Scott stopped struggling almost immediately and let out a snuffle in a voice Jeff hadn't heard since when the kids' mother was alive. "M'hot", Scott complained without opening his eyes. Jeff reckoned he should probably be more concerned about photosensitivity and the fact any of the boys was yet to notice or acknowledge him. Jeff made an attempt to hoist Scott up against the headrest, but thought better of it as another painful moan escaped. Instead, he sort of rolled the son back to the center of the bed, closer to the pile of other brothers. Scott seemed game for that and shifted to snuggle and spoon against John's back. That elicited a hum and a sneeze from the ginger. Virgil didn't stir. Puppy basket indeed.

Satisfied that Scott was settled for the moment and the other boys seemed to have fallen asleep, Jeff felt confident enough to go looking for the fever vigil supplies and an extra coffee for himself. But he didn't leave before leaning to reach the assorted temples and forheads for the mandatory kiss better and a soft stroke. So sue him, he missed a lot longer than eight years of being their Dad first.

A detour to the infirmary, a chat with Brains, a lot more strained one with Ma and an anxious one with the Tinies later - Jeff was on his way back to Scott's rooms. Gordon and Alan, of course, offered to come back and help with their ailing brothers immediately. But Jeff shuddered at the idea of having all five of the boys sick at once. He was good, but the tenure in space was taking its toll. The youngest boys would be well supervised under Grandma's watchful eye, till it was safe (or absolutely necessary- something Jeff tried not to dwell on) to return to the island.

The sight that greeted him upon return to the bedroom tugged the corners of his lips up despite himself. Seeing his sons sick or hurting in any way brought him no joy, but the picture was just too precious and hilarious at the same time. John had shifted upside down, somehow, so Virgil was now cuddling his brother's feet. John was also curled in an upside down ball, head resting on Scott's stomach. Scott, in an attempt to cool off, cast his long, long limbs every which way, including over Virgil's lap and head, in a comical replication of the Vitruvian Man. As Jeff stepped in, though, the eldest shifted again, to curl himself around John protectively and to draw Virgil into a side hug. Jeff needed to go ahead with the med scanners and to get the boys awake long enough to make sure they got a drink of electrolytes and some saltines, but first he paused to reach for his comm watch and snap a picture of the puppy basket. He would cherish the moment while it lasted. And he could always use it as blackmail backup against these three running themselves to the ground - under the threat of the photo being leaked to the Tinies.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #virgil tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #jeff tracy needs a license update in fathering #thunderbirds 2015 #scott tracy needs his dad #my fic #methinks i have astronomy

[matt0044]

Recommendation to mutuals: I really loved Thunderbirds Are Go!

The rescues have the right balance between being based on future technologies and grounded in the real world where it could theoretically be possible. It carries the spirit of the original of how the rescues would be so nail biting because of what could likely go wrong.

There's also certain improvement to the original when it comes to characters. The Tracy Brothers and Kayo have more identifiable personalities with the brothers feeling like, well, brothers who'll roast each other playfully but be there for each other come what may.

You even have Parker being unscrupulous at times with episode revolving around his "misspent youth" and how he values the second chance he got.

Perhaps the real star of the show is that of the model environments that the CGI characters and vehicles interact with. It sort of carries on the spirit of Supermarionation by why of puppeting the CG models across real life construsts. Sometimes I can't always tell which setting is real or animated.

The first two seasons are on Amazon Prime with clips of it on YouTube. Look up the launches for the vehicles and tell me that they aren't epic as all hell.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds 1965 #virgil tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #kayo kyrano #tin tin kyrano #kayo #jeff tracy #sally tracy #penelope creighton ward #lady penelope #nosey parker #aloysius parker

[hebuiltfive]

Seeking An Absolution

After returning home, Jeff goes to visit his old friend in prison to try and offer him an unexpected absolution.

Words: 4,331 Snippet below, but the full work is on AO3 here!

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Even in the days before he’d become a resurrected ghost, Jeff Tracy had never made a habit of visiting GDF Maximum Security Facilities.

Usually his official trips took him to the organised offices of the top brass staff. There, in their comfortable spaces, wood crackled away in fireplaces, echoing around the embellished chamber, and dying embers lit up the room in a warm, homely glow. Timbered walls displayed framed medals that were regularly polished so that they shone and glinted in the firelight. Tea and coffee were customary for a meeting, much of the time being offered the moment a welcomed visitor stepped foot into the office space. He had to say, despite often dreading the tedious tasks which those meetings often proved themselves to be, Jeff found the office spaces far preferable than these dank and dreary corridors that he currently strolled along. 

The grey of one concrete wall to his right matched the grey of a stone wall to his left. There was little sustained lighting. It was a purposeful design feature so that inmates were unable to become cognisant of their surroundings. High, impenetrable walls had been built around the outer perimeter. They were so tall that, no matter where you were in the complex, parts could be seen through almost any tiny window. Combine that with the naturally sullen mood that a Maximum Security Facility brought, and the whole place was just downright depressing. It wasn’t just the atmosphere that was cold, however. Located on an island a few miles off the Scottish coast meant that, even indoors and with his thick layers of clothing wrapped around him, Jeff could feel the chill of the winter.

No-one visited this prison, let alone this specific block of the complex. To gain access, he had had to fight Casey for weeks, and that had just been for a referral alone. At one point his request had ending up reaching the World President. Some might have deemed him mad for wanting to visit this particular block. In fact the President himself had called up Jeff to ask if his signing off on such a request was a wise decision. Jeff had insisted upon it. He had to visit. There was no alternative option.

Continue reading here.

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderfam #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #five fics #jeff tracy #the hood #fic: seeking an absolution