#nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Today is my five year fandomversary!

Today five years ago I fell into this fandom and never looked back. I published my first Thunderbirds fic, which I will reblog again just for traditions sake.

1.3 million words/260+ fics later...let's just say I've had a lot of fun :D

Usually on this day I offer to write for some one word challenges and while I'll happily accept them, I honestly don't think my muse is up to playing with them at the moment. It's having a rest so hopefully at some point I can start writing again. But ask away if you like, I can always store them for later :D

Anyways, thank you to Thunderfam for all the fun I've had over the last five years and for motivating me to write those thousands and thousands of words...there will be more, I have no doubt :D

Nutty

::massive group hug::

Title: No-one is losing their Dad today Author: Gumnut Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015 Rating: Teen Summary: Exactly how not to do it. Word count: 5,145 Spoilers & warnings: Thunderbirds Are Go S1 Ep1 & 2, in fact if you haven’t seen these two episodes, this isn’t going to make much sense. Interwoven episode tag. Author's note: This fic is affected by two things. Firstly, it is the first complete fic I’ve written in nearly ten years, so my writing muscles are very much rusty. Secondly, brand new fandom! I’ve only been here for a matter of weeks and I’m so in love with the Tracy boys, it has become an addiction. It has been a long time since a fandom grabbed me like this, and I’m having sooo much fun! This fic is very intertwined with the first two episodes of the first season – that first scene (I love it!), but I felt it had some ramifications, because ouch! So this is possibly happening in the background of the episode. Also, total Virgil fan :D And anyone who knows me from other fandoms, knows what happens to my favourite characters :D Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother. Scenes parroted from the episodes are definitely not mine.

His hand missed.

The roaring wind caught the beleaguered hot air balloon, lifting it up, tossing it sideways, and ripping its tethers from the basket. The basket hung suspended a moment, then flipped, throwing its last passenger into freefall.

His yell was taken by the wind.

“Dad!” The boy beside him struggled and Virgil grabbed him, yanking him back to the safety of his ship’s overhead hatch. Calculations raced through his head. Possibilities.

He stabbed his commlink, yelling over the wind, “Thunderbird Five, I need you now!”

There would be only moments. Lowering the hatch, he threw himself at the controls. The kid was pleading for him to save his father.

“No-one is losing their Dad today!” No-one. John was in his ear. “John, what’s my time window?”

The answer was maybe enough.

He shouted over his shoulder at the kid. “Strap in!” And threw TB2 into a dive. He rode gravity until it wasn’t enough and kicked in the rear thrusters, sending them screaming past the falling man. Virgil brought her to pacing drop beneath him, the VTOL gear halting their descent, but not their fall.

The seconds counted down in his head.

Darting back into the centre of the cockpit, he secured his tether, and with an almighty shove, flung back the overhead hatch.

The ship’s plummet tore him from her confines and within a second he was falling beside the screaming man.

This time, his hand didn’t miss.

“I’ve got you!”

Another second ticked by.

He remotely triggered the VTOL, slowing her fall.

Damn, this was going to hurt.

He wrapped himself around the struggling man, protecting him as much as he possibly could, as the hatch rushed up to meet them.

Then there was Thunderbird, metal and pain. He grunted and the man fell off him. He vaguely heard the VTOL ratchet up into a hover. John was yelling in his ear.

He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, forcing away the stars, before rolling over onto his knees. Oh god, there was going to be hell to pay for this one. He could feel the bruises forming.

But now was not the time. He struggled to his feet, pleased to see the father and his kid clinging to each other. Totally worth those bruises.

A somewhat staggering step back to his seat, and he was answering John’s increasingly urgent calls. “This is Thunderbird Two, mission complete.”

There was a relieved sigh at the other end of the line. “Good job, Virgil.”

He signed off and took a moment to sigh himself, before plotting his course to the nearest hospital. The son seemed fine, but the father had taken that fall with him, and it wouldn’t hurt for both of them to get checked out.

He rolled his right shoulder…ow…probably wouldn’t hurt to get himself checked out either. At home. With a hot shower. And coffee. What was it with balloonists and the crack of dawn anyway?

-o-o-o-

It was afternoon before he made it home. He managed the shower but missed the coffee due to another trip down his chute to save some scientists from a seaquake.

He forgot his shoulder until he couldn’t target their underwater habitat with his grapple guns. Damn arm trembled when he put pressure on it, throwing off his aim.

Scott succeeded in latching on first try with the grapple gun in Thunderbird One, even though he knew the scout ship wouldn’t have the grunt to hold the habitat by itself. The thought of TB1 disappearing below the waves was enough motivation for Virgil to grit his teeth and make his body behave.

The day was saved yet again. This time it was three scientists he dropped off at the nearest hospital. And then home.

And then the Hood.

Seaquakes. An argument with the GDF. An argument with his brothers. There was coffee this time, but once again he was flying down his chute. As he hit the bars to swing himself into his ship, his shoulder screamed in protest and he stumbled as he landed, but there was no time. He shoved the overhead hatch closed.

This time there was an entire city to save. A solar collector had fallen out of alignment and in just the right position to fry downtown Taipei. Scott, of course, beat him there and was in the thick of things before Virgil could even assess the situation.

Grab the dish and move it. Once again, he found himself struggling, this time with the magnetic claw. He grasped the dish perfectly, but the moment he fired up the VTOL to lift the dish, his arm spasmed, jolting the yoke. He lifted up his hand and watched it tremble. What the hell?

He didn’t have time for this!

Unfortunately, the dish was still attached to its foundations and he was unable to move it. Then Scott was climbing to free it and Virgil’s priority had switched to rescuing the crew.

Slaving TB2 to autopilot, he dashed into the hold to grab his Jaws of Life exoskeleton. He only hesitated momentarily, steeling himself as the metal wrapped around him. He expected complaint from his arm, but none came. He blinked and flexed the claw. A little tingling, a twinge or two. Okay. And he was off and running.

Everything went perfectly well until he had to grab and hold onto the edge of the personnel carrier to save his own life.

-o-o-o-

Kuan-yu knew the laws of physics. He was an engineer, it was his business. The force required to crumple the door to the collector station was considerable, so there was no surprise when the man in blue and green and sporting metal arms was easily able to lift the beam that had fallen on Teller. The logo on his helmet flashed in the morning light.

International Rescue!

The IR man hurried the three of them out of the crumbling building. They stumbled over rubble, clambering as fast as they could, desperate to get away.

And then the sky was falling. The huge dish had come off its supports and was roaring, screaming, down towards them.

Kuan-yu opened his mouth to yell but was suddenly swept from his feet. His hands automatically wrapped around the harness that lowered over his head, and he was flying, the dish groaning down the mountain below him.

A blue man was riding the edge of it like a surfboard.

There was a muffled yell behind him. He twisted in his seat, but he could see little. Then a booted foot swung into view. There was another yell. And another. His rescuer must be hanging onto the edge of the carrier. Kuan-yu immediately began looking for a way to help him, but the harness was secured and he could not raise it.

His glance flickered down to the settling dish, looking for the other blue man, but he was gone. A moment later his world slipped into shadow and he looked up to see the massive green bulk of the world-famous Thunderbird Two.

There were expressions of awe, but Kuan-yu was overloaded and out of words.

The ship swallowed them up.

-o-o-o-

There was a moment of silence when the carrier came to a halt, suspended just above the deck of the ship. The lighting was dim after the brilliance of the morning sun, and although the engines of the craft were dominant, they lacked the chaos of the moments before. All he could hear was the panicked breathing of his two workmates.

A click and the harness holding him to the carrier disengaged. Hesitantly Kuan-yu pushed it over his head and slid out of the seat. His shoes touched the metal of the decking and the bass roar of the ship’s engines echoed up through the soles of his feet.

He took a few steps around the end of the carrier, his eyes seeking out the blue and green man, not entirely sure he had made it and not sure he wanted to see if he hadn’t.

The IR man was there. On his knees, head down, metal arms awkwardly splayed out to the side. A hologram of Thunderbird Two hovered above one arm. Suddenly his tense shoulders dropped and Kuan-yu could hear a muffled expletive and then something about surfing.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help himself.

The man’s head shot up and piercing brown eyes fixed on him. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

I’m not the one still on the floor. He thought but didn’t say. Teller and Jane had come around the other end of the carrier and both were staring at the IR man.

The man on the floor seemed to realise it anyway and blinked before clambering to his feet with a grunt and whirring of gears. He fiddled with the hologram on his wrist, the ghost of the rear thrusters flaring for a moment, the ship’s engines changed thrum and they all staggered slightly as it moved around them. Apparently finished with the hologram, he walked awkwardly over to the other side of the bay and backed himself up. There was a thunk, and the exoskeleton separated itself from him. The reinforcements unfastened from his boots and hips and lastly, he slid his arms from the claws. There was a hiss as his right arm came free, he wavered, and Kuan-yu was moving before the IR man pitched forward in an attempt to plant his face into the deck of his own ship.

It was awkward, but he caught him. There was a gasp of pain when his hand touched his right shoulder, so Kuan-yu struggled to lower the much larger man to the floor using mostly his left side. Fortunately, he was still wearing his helmet, so the soft clunk when he connected with the floor should have been less painful than without.

The eyes under that helmet slid closed.

“No! No, sir. You can not sleep! Stay awake!” He prodded the man gently and his eyelids flickered. Kuan-yu felt around the base of the helmet, looking for a release. The man needed air and Kuan-yu needed to assess him for injury. His fingertips fumbled across a latch and there was a soft hiss as the helmet came loose. He gently lifted the protection off the man’s head to reveal his pale face and mess of thick dark hair.

“Scott…” The word was faint.

“Jane, go and see who is flying this ship and see if you can get help.” He glanced up at his other workmate. “Teller, sit down before you fall down.”

The technician wobbled himself back onto the carrier.

With those two occupied, Kuan-yu turned his full attention to the almost unconscious man beside him. “Sir, can you hear me?”

His eyelids fluttered. He was obviously fighting to stay conscious.

“Can you hear me, sir?”

“Scott?” His eyelids fluttered again.

Kuan-yu felt gently around his scalp, checking for a head injury. It wasn’t long before he found one either. There was a considerable lump towards the back of the right side of the man’s head. Fortunately, there was no bleeding.

There was also the concern for the man’s arm. His uniform unzipped at the front, so Kuan-yu gently pulled it down just far enough to peel back his collar slightly. He drew in a sharp breath at the sight of black bruising. This wasn’t a new injury, it was at least twenty-four hours old. What the hell was this man doing saving lives in this condition?

Jane burst back into the compartment. “There is no-one flying this plane!”

“What?!” Both he and Teller spoke at once.

“There is no-one in the cockpit!”

Teller and Jane started talking over one another. He looked down at the IR man again. Was he really on his own? In his condition? How the hell was this plane still in the sky?

No, there had been another blue man. His heartrate picked up. No, no, this wasn’t the time to panic. He took a breath. “Both of you – shut up!”

There was a sudden silence. The engines thrummed through the ship. Teller and Jane stared at him.

Beneath his hand, the IR man moved. “I have to…” Those eyes were fully open once again and narrowing in on him.

“Sir, sit still. You collapsed and must remain calm.”

The eyes blinked at him. “Who are you?” There was authority in that suddenly deep voice.

“Lin Kuan-yu, Senior Engineer at the Taipei Solar Plant. You saved my life and the lives of my two colleagues, not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh.” The man inhaled, held the breath a moment, before releasing it between his teeth. “Okay. Sorry about that.” And despite Kuan-yu’s resistance, the man sat up fully. He wavered a moment and Kuan-yu prepared to catch him again, but he rolled to his feet, stumbling, but standing firm. His eyes darted across the three of them. “Are any of you in need of medical assistance?”

Jane and Teller both answered no. Kuan-yu suspected Teller did in any case and would be checking him over once he had the IR man seen to. Brown eyes looked at him in question. “No, I don’t, but you do.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“But who is flying this plane?” Jane’s voice had an edge of hysteria to it.

The man swallowed. “Let me worry about that too.” He stepped back a moment as if to steady himself. “I’m sorry…”

And with that he staggered somewhat through the still open door and latched it shut behind him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil clung to the wall. The world refused to stop spinning. What the hell? The pain in his head. His shoulder was screaming at him.

He wasn’t fit to fly.

He had three rescued persons on board. And he couldn’t fly. He stepped away from the wall and staggered to the pilot’s seat. He could barely stand up.

Sliding in he scanned the controls. Where were they going?

A sudden image of Scott riding the dish down the mountain…

He slammed the transmission console. “Scott!”

“Virgil!” There was concern in his brother’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“You okay?” His console flickered in and out of focus for a moment.

“Fine. You?”

He swallowed. There was bile in his throat. “Not good.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, before Scott’s controlled voice returned. “Can you fly?”

The world was spinning again.

Then it flickered as Scott’s hologram appeared on the dash. “Oh, god, Virgil.”

“I’m sorr..y.” And the whole world tipped sideways.

-o-o-o-

Scott reached out to catch the hologram of his brother as it slipped sideways and out of view. His fingers caught nothing.

“John!”

His younger brother’s hologram flickered on beside the empty shell of TB2’s cabin. “Thunderbird One?

“Virgil’s in trouble. He may have lost consciousness. Can you remote pilot Thunderbird Two?”

John’s eyes widened before darting to his controls. He frowned and muttered something under his breath. “One moment.”

Scott held his breath.

There was another muttered word, then John’s face relaxed. “Confirmed, Thunderbird One. Thunderbird Two is now under remote pilot.” John looked up at him. “But there are still three rescued persons aboard.”

“What is Virgil’s status?”

John could seem cold to some people, but Scott knew he was anything but. “Rapid pulse, low blood pressure…what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. But we will find out. Where are the three engineers?”

“In the pod bay. They are mobile.” John frowned. “One is banging on the door to the cabin.”

“What is Gordon’s status?”

“Mission complete and heading home.”

“Advise him of our situation. Tell him to beach his ‘Bird as soon as possible. Bring Thunderbird Two to a hover. I’m going to board her.” John’s acknowledgement was brief.

Both Thunderbirds were out over the Philippine Sea, TB1 a little ahead of her sister. Scott accelerated up and flipped back over his position to settle above his brother’s green behemoth.

He’d already fried one jetpack today, but he’d learnt a long time ago to always pack a spare or three, so moments later he was landing beside TB2’s overhead hatch. “Thunderbird Five, please release the hatch.”

A gentle shove and he had the hatch open just enough to slide in. He slipped it closed behind him.

The cabin was eerily quiet despite the VTOL burning brightly outside. “Virgil?”

He found him half slumped off his chair, almost beneath the console. “Virgil!” Scott hit the seat controls, releasing it and moving it backwards slowly.

Virgil began to slip boneless to the floor. “I’ve got you.” He grabbed his brother under the arms and as gently as possible, halted his fall. A little manoeuvring had him on his back beside his pilot seat. “Virgil!”

“Sc-t?”

“What happened?”

“S-rry.”

“For what?”

Any answer Virgil might have given him was lost in a sudden banging on the cockpit door. “Hey, you need help. Let me help!”

Virgil’s eyes slipped closed and didn’t open again.

“Virgil!” He touched the man’s cheek. His skin was cold. “Virgil!” No response.

What the hell had happened?

Professionalism kicked in. The patient was breathing shallow but rapidly, heart rate up. “John, give me his vitals.” His brother’s hologram appeared beside him and rattled off numbers. Scott peeled back an eyelid, then the other one. He frowned, a possible concussion?

“Scott, he has all the symptoms of hypovolemic shock.”

“He’s bleeding?!” His hands skimmed over his brother’s uniform. He couldn’t see anything obvious. The zip of his uniform was pulled away slightly from his collar. Scott pulled it down quickly, revealing pale skin and dark chest hair.

And a massive spreading red and black bruise radiating out from the man’s right shoulder.

“Aww, hell.”

“Damn it, sir, you need help!” There was another thunk from the other side of the cockpit door.

Scott’s eyes darted momentarily between his brother and the door, calculating. “John, we’re going to Darwin. Alert the hospital. You plot and initialise, take One, I’ll take Two once I have Virgil secured. Tell Gordon to go home and grab Tracey One to meet us there.” A breath. “Mission status?”

“Seaquake generators have been nullified. The source of the transmissions has been located – in the middle of Northern Australia, approximately one hundred kilometres north west of Tennant Creek in the Northern Territory. Kayo is on her way.” His brother’s hologram blinked out.

Scott swore, torn.

No time.

Fingers briefly touching his brother’s cheek, he stood up and strode over to the cockpit door.

-o-o-o-

Kuan-yu nearly fell through the door as it was suddenly shoved open. A man in IR blue caught him.

This one was taller. “Where is he? He needs help.” Kuan-yu shoved past the man into the cockpit only to find his saviour on the floor out cold.

The other man eyed him as if to assess his intentions before darting through the cockpit door. He returned a second later with a collapsible hover stretcher and first aid kit. The IR man stabilised his colleague’s spine. “Help me get him onto the stretcher.”

The two men grunted as they lifted the bigger man. “A few less pancakes, Virg.” It was muttered under the man’s breath and Kuan-yu wasn’t sure he had actually heard it.

There was the snap of fittings and the hardware attached to the prone man started to come away. The IR man lifted off the bulky protuberance over the man’s left shoulder, undid the belt, the toolkit came off, and the green sash unbuckled, exposing more of the blue uniform beneath.

“Thunderbird Five, you have control. Commence flight plan.”

There was no acknowledgement, but suddenly the plane shuddered, the engine roar shifting from around them to the back of the vehicle once again. Kuan-yu staggered a step as the ship suddenly changed direction and accelerated. Much faster than it had before.

The IR man didn’t flinch, his hand on his compatriot, keeping him still. Once the flight had stabilised, he hurried him from the room.

Kuan-yu followed.

“Where are we going?”

“Darwin.”

“Australia?”

“Yes, we need the hospital there.” He slammed open another door to reveal what was obviously the medical bay. Depositing the stretcher on the examination table in the middle of the room, he secured it. Medical alarms filled the air.

“Damn it, Virgil.”

Checking the patient again, the IR man grabbed a laser cutter and started tearing off the man’s uniform. Kuan-yu quickly moved to the other side to help. He tugged at the man’s left glove, the tough material giving way as velcro released the padding. He found the fastener for the hologram display and pulled it away, depositing it quickly on a nearby shelf. The man’s fingers were a road map of calluses. He struggled to pull off the glove. How on Earth did the man put these on in the first place? There was a brief flash of light and the IR man flickered the laser cutter at the crucial point and the glove came apart, falling off in Kuan-yu’s hands.

The laser cutter had certainly done its job. Most of the patient’s torso was now exposed revealing the extent of the massive bruise down the man’s right arm and chest wall.

The IR man was muttering under his breath as he cut the last of the uniform off the patient’s left arm. Discarding the laser cutter, he grabbed an IV and set up a fluid transfusion. “He’s bleeding internally.”

“No kidding.” Kuan-yu couldn’t keep his eyes off that massive, swollen bruise.

A blanket was draped over the prone man and an oxygen mask placed over his face. Most of the alarms quietened. A hand brushed the patient’s forehead, fingers gently moving through his dark hair.

And Kuan-yu found himself pinned by a pair of startling blue eyes.

“What happened?” There wasn’t any accusation in the tone, but the man’s stance was one of a lion over its cub.

Kuan-yu held up his hands. “I don’t know! He saved us and collapsed. I tried to help him, but he refused.”

The man’s shoulders dropped a little and whispered, “Typical.”

“He does this regularly?”

The eyes snapped to him again. “What is the status of your colleagues? Are any of you in need of medical assistance?”

Again with the hands up. “No, we are fine. Teller has some bruising, but he’s okay. They’re both down with the carrier that hauled us in.”

The man released another breath. “Do you have any medical training?” His hand once again touched the patient’s head, fingers in his hair as he cupped his crown lightly.

“Basic first aid. I’m the designated first aider on site at the Solar Plant.” He took a breath and held out his hand. “I’m Kuan-yu.”

The tall man reached over and took his hand, clasping it only briefly. “Thank you.” Another glance at the patient. “Can you stay with him? We are on approach to Darwin.”

“Sure.”

Yet another glance at the prone man. “Thanks.” And he was out the door.

-o-o-o-

For Scott, the next half an hour was one of the worst in his life.

The moment he set foot back in the cockpit, John was in his ear agitated that he had lost contact with Kayo.

Kayo who was in the middle of the Australian desert on her own.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing.

“Colonel Casey and the GDF are with her.”

“And how useful have the GDF been in the past? They mean well, but ineffective, John, ineffective! Why the hell do you think International Rescue exists in the first place? Because they can’t do their damned jobs!”

TB2 trembled under his fingertips as he took control of the ‘Bird’s descent. “Tell Brains that he needs to finish her ‘Bird. This has gone on too long. She needs her own wings.”

“Scott-“

“Do we have clearance to land?”

John spouted off landing conditions. “Helipad’s to the north. Ambulance attending. They have the patient’s details. I have Thunderbird One.” A shadow passed briefly over the windows as Thunderbird One overtook them and disappeared off into the distance. Darwin appeared on the horizon, the brief spark of civilisation in the subtropical swamp, stark against the green and blue of the Timor Sea.

He came in hard.

The air screamed around him as Thunderbird Two shot into the hospital’s air space, her VTOL engines roaring as he applied braking thrust over the helipad. Her mass always fooled him. She was slower, but more powerful than TB1. Pure grunt force.

The ship lowered, her landing struts deployed, and they were down.

He secured the console and was out of the pilot’s seat before the VTOL jets had fully retracted. Through a couple of doors and once again he was listening to medical alarms.

“His blood pressure is still dropping.” The short Taiwanese man was hovering around his brother, obviously at a loss of what to do, but wanting to do something nonetheless.

Scott didn’t answer. He hurriedly detached the hover stretcher from the table and activated its jets. Making sure the IV was secure and his brother strapped in, he put the stretcher in motion towards the cockpit. On the periphery of his vision, Kuan-yu followed.

Moments later, he was breathing in the hot moist air of the Australian northern country as the cockpit hatch lowered them to the helipad. There were doctors, there were nurses, there were numbers being called back and forth. His brother was whisked away.

A dark-haired nurse was asking him questions.

He had responsibilities.

Turning back into the ship’s shadow, he almost tripped over Kuan-yu. Recovering quickly, he motioned the shorter man towards the nurse. “Get yourself checked out.”

He leapt back into his brother’s ‘Bird.

-o-o-o-

Three days.

Three goddamned awful days.

Kayo was safe. Scott picked her up in Thunderbird One himself. He was the closest. The remains of the Hood’s hideout were secured by the GDF for further investigation. The shouting match he had with Colonel Casey over that likely didn’t help his case, but she had been a friend of the family for a long time, she knew the reasons behind his anger. She would forgive him. He’d apologise later.

Three days.

Gordon flew in with Tracey One, Alan beside him.

John hovered. Literally. His hologram appearing in various places, not all fully authorised, as he monitored Virgil’s condition.

Three days.

With John’s help they worked out what had happened. John, after all, had been complicit in the cause of the injury. There had been words.

Delayed concussion and a chipped humerus. A chipped bone which could have been a minor injury if it had been attended promptly. But no, it had been ignored, and the bone chip had eventually nicked a blood vessel. The bleed had been a slow one, but it had the time it needed to do damage. There had been surgery. Now there were questions of whether his brother might lose the use of his arm, even the arm itself.

Three days.

Scott found the tether Virgil had used in the rescue of the two ballooners. A good twenty metres of reinforced nylon cord. Twenty metres. A fall of twenty metres could kill a man.

It nearly had.

He dropped his head to the bed. Why?

He knew why.

Damnit, Virgil!

His brother’s left arm was draped with tubing, feeding his starved body with the fluids and nutrients it so desperately needed. Scott stared at fingers. His brother had large hands, callused and worn with hard work, yet still nimble with an instrument or paintbrush. He reached out and brushed his own fingertips against the pale skin.

“Scott?” It was barely a whisper, but when he looked up a pair of blurry brown eyes peered back at him.

Scott felt his cheek muscles drag his mouth into an almost smile. “Hey, Virg.” Equally as quiet.

The brown eyes darted around a moment, a frown creasing between them. “What?”

“Hospital. Darwin. Thunderbird Two is safe and secure.” She was sitting right next to her sister under heavy guard at the local GDF airfield. He swallowed. “There was a situation.”

Virgil’s fingers brushed against his. Scott wrapped both hands around his brother’s single hand.

He knew why Virgil did it. He knew the reasoning, the lack of alternative. Those two ballooners would never know exactly how lucky they had been and what had been risked. His fingers tightened convulsively.

“Scott.” His brother’s eyes were clearing, his voice that bit stronger. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

-o-o-o-

Six weeks later and it was hard to tell if any of it had happened.

The bandages were off and Virgil had recovered most of the movement in his arm. There was still work to be done and he was still grounded, but the outcome was looking more positive by the day.

John had been dragged back to Earth and there had been some honest discussions, some yelling, of course, but mostly sane discussion. New strategies on how to snatch a free-falling victim out of the sky – it did happen often enough, so they really should be prepared, especially since Virgil had so kindly shown them all exactly how not to do it.

The reiteration on reporting all injuries on occurrence was getting a little repetitive however. Virgil, of course, claimed he didn’t know it had been that bad. And besides, exactly when had he had the time to do anything that day – he hadn’t even managed a decent meal in the entire twenty-four hours!

Scott had backed down at that. He knew he shared the guilt with his two brothers. Nobody had reported anything, but then he had them working a twenty-four hour stretch without a decent break.

Brain’s announcement that Kayo’s ‘Bird was finally finished was a welcome distraction. And Grandma’s threat of a homecooked meal had the effect she had no doubt planned as they all ran for cover.

Scott found Virgil in Thunderbird Two.

Swearing.

And surrounded by discarded food wrappers.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Scott raised his hands placatingly. “Now, Virgil, he said he was going to clean it up before he handed her back to you.”

Virgil raised his fist full of wrappers, knuckles white. “I’m going to kill him!”

Staring at his angry brother, Scott couldn’t help but smile. The white knuckled fist belonged to his right hand. It took a moment for the bigger man to connect the dots, his eyes dancing back and forth between Scott and his curled fist, but when he did, the anger bled away to be replaced by an ironic smile.

Scott wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “See, there is wisdom in Gordon…somewhere.”

That brought out a much-missed Virgil chuckle. Scott ruffled his hair, before darting out of the retaliation zone.

But he wasn’t fast enough and Virgil lunged to grab him.

His hand didn’t miss.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #nuttys fandomversary #nuttyfic reblog

[flyboytracy]

Yo, Nutty! @gumnut-logic

Happy Fandomversary! 😘🙌🥂

You’re the kind of person who makes fandom fun and it’s a privilege to get to read your fics, and the lovely comments that you leave on everyone else’s work too.

Thank you for being you. You light up the world around you, just like ur fave boy.

<333∞

#Thunderbirds Are Go #<3333 #forever and always

[gumnut-logic]

Nutty’s Fandomversary

It is July 17th, the anniversary of publishing my first Thunderbirds fic FOUR years ago.

After over 1.2 million words across 240+ fics and 8600+ posts to this blog, I’m still here. A little frayed around the edges, but still kicking :D

Every year as this date passes, I try to celebrate by offering something back to the fandom for all the amazing support and wonderfulness that is Thunderfam. You are an amazing bunch of people and I’m far from perfect and feel I never do enough to be worthy of your kindness, yet you still support me and my crazy.

For the last three Fandomversaries, I’ve given you the opportunity to send me a character and a prompt and the the stories that have grown from that inspiration are listed under some of my favourites. The biggest downer is that I haven’t answered all the prompts sent me, and I feel bad for those I haven’t thanked properly, so I was hesitant to send out this offer again this year.

However, if you would like to send me an ask with a prompt, you are most certainly welcome, and here’s hoping it will spark something. I usually think a character and a word does the job best, but this year, send me whatever you want and I will see what I can do.

Or alternatively, send me a question. Ask away, and hopefully I can answer.

But most of all, send me something you would like me to do, even if it is to finish one of my wips (yeah, I know there are a lot of them).

I would like to do something nice for you guys and something to celebrate this Fandomversary.

As always, there are no guarantees. My head is currently trying to write the last chapter of the Loopy fic, and thinking about Steampunk AU and the Supermen AU and what I can add to those.

But anyways, send me stuff so I can thank you for all your support, and here’s hoping for more fandomversaries to come :D

Nutty

(okay, it is officially 32 minutes after midnight, been meaning to do this all day, but work and other stuff - it is still the 17 July is other parts of the world so this still counts ::hugs you all::)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Fandomversery ask:

Fauvism

Virgil

Have a little FishTank :D Thank you so much for the ask ::hugs you tight::

And thanks to @katblu42 for the read through.

Just a short little thing. I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

Perhaps it was luck that had Gordon walking past Virgil’s studio right at that moment. At the time, all he had on his mind was a lovely pastrami on rye with pickles and sweet mustard and cheese and…

The scream that interrupted his thoughts was loud and raw.

As with all sounds of such alarm, Gordon reacted automatically and pushed through the door that was obstructing him from what was definitely a brother in pain.

Except it wasn’t. At least not without adding a ‘t’ to that word.

Gordon stood in the doorway of Virgil’s studio staring at a brother in paint.

The studio door creaked as it wobbled to a standstill on badly strained hinges.

“Virgil, what the hell?”

His brother was dripping paint from his nose! There was blue in his hair, pink on his shirt and his hands were smeared with every colour under the sun.

“Leave it, Gordon. I’m not in the mood.” Virgil turned back to the canvas in front of him. A canvas definitely the source of the colours. Virgil even had several handprints on the ass of his jeans.

When Gordon didn’t respond and continued to stare, Virgil’s shoulders dropped. “What do you want?”

“I came to help.”

“Help what?”

“You were screaming!”

A red blob of paint slipped off Virgil’s hair and dropped to the ground with a splat. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine! Is all that paint safe?”

Virgil eyed himself. “Mostly.”

Gordon stared at him. “I repeat. Virgil, what the hell?”

“Just leave it.” He picked his paintbrush off the floor, fiddled with its bristles, in the process putting even more paint on his fingers.

“Uh, no. Not until you tell me why you were yelling.” Virgil was such a hypocrite. If their places were switched, there would be no way of dislodging the remora.

Virgil’s shoulders dropped further. Hell, if they relaxed any more, Gordon feared his brother’s arms might actually fall off.

The image that whacked him in the head at that thought was both horrifying and hilarious at once.

Maybe he did need that sandwich.

“C’mon, Virg, what is it.”

The sigh that came out of his Pollock of a brother was resigned. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Uh, no. Not since you’ve put it that way. Sounds like you’re embarrassed about something.” If Virgil wasn’t seriously hurt, then blackmail material was certainly a possibility.

Not that he would put that above his brother’s health. No way

Besides, regardless of all the above, Gordon was a Tracy and there was nothing more stubborn than one of those.

“Talk to me, Virg.”

Another sigh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Really? You pulling the smarts on me? I thought John had the copyright on that.”

That had Virgil turning around with a painted frown. “What do you mean? When has John done that?”

“Not important. You’re changing the topic.” He was trying to flip the coin and deflect using either big brother Virgil or medic Virgil. Gordon could almost hear his brother’s radar grabbing at the molecules around him. “What pissed you off enough to attempt merging with your paint collection?”

“Nothing.” Virgil turned his back again.

“Bullshit.”

“Gordon-“

“No, you don’t get to row, row, row your boat out of this. I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay, Tankman. Love it or lump it, your choice.”

Was that the sound of grinding teeth. Gordon could almost count down. Virgil really was a pushover sometimes.

If you knew which buttons to press and in which order.

How to engineer the engineer.

Five, four, three, two, one…

“Fine!” Full on anger was kinda scary when it was Virgil. Scott, hell, bring it on. Their shouting matches were legendary. But Virgil yelling was a whole different thing.

Well, he had poked the bear and asked for it.

Pulled the trigger.

And Virgil suddenly had incredibly active hands flinging paint around and gesticulating like his life depended on it. There were words, but most of them unintelligible to Gordon. He vaguely got the idea that his brother was trying to paint something in a certain style…

“And it isn’t working, okay? Do you get it now? Can you leave me alone to swear in peace?

Gordon blinked. “Uh, I got some but not all. However, I got enough for a thorough diagnosis. You need a break.”

Virgil exploded on the spot. There was more yelling, this time laced with profanity along with the art words. So many art words. And artistic hands that were gesticulating even more, waving around in anger, punctuation, and force…

…enough to topple the canvas behind him which, as if in slow motion, wobbled, tipped, and, as both Tracys tried to grab for it, fell with a crash, taking the cursed canvas with it.

Everything fell silent.

Gordon stood next to his brother staring down at the painting as if they were staring at a gravesite.

Virgil’s voice was quiet, his eyes not leaving the fallen canvas. “Maybe you’re right. I do need a break.”

“Well, derrr. I haven’t seen you this angry since that time Alan shaved off one of your eyebrows.”

That earned him another frown, using said eyebrows. “Alan? That was you.”

“I would never-“

Flat stare. “I have footage, Gordon.”

Gordon eyed his brother’s boots. “You do indeed.” He looked up and grinned. “But I also have a John.”

Virgil’s lips thinned and he glared a moment. But then his eyes narrowed and a bit of a smile crept onto his face.

Uh-oh.

Virgil reached over and wrapped a strong arm around Gordon’s shoulders. Thank goodness they were billionaires and could commission whatever clothes they wanted to wear because there went his favourite Hawaiian shirt under an armpit of paint.

“So you wanted to know what was bothering me? Well, let me introduce you to the wonders of Fauvism and the illogic of red shadows.”

Virgil led him over to the studio couch, sat him down, and commenced a thorough art lesson on the Fauvism movement.

Apparently, it was the art movement that was giving his brother the mental breakdown. Somewhere along the line Virgil used an example that had Thunderbird Four throwing a pink shadow underwater.

While Gordon didn’t really get what his brother was babbling on about, that concept caught his attention.

“Can you paint that for me?”

Virgil was interrupted mid-rant and stared at Gordon a moment. “What?”

“Thunderbird Four with a pink shadow. While she’s underwater.”

“Why?”

“Because I like the idea.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense. That’s the whole problem with this movement, there is no logic behind the colour choices. It is driving me in-sane!” Virgil grabbed his own hair and laced it with whatever was drying on his fingers.

“Does it have to make sense?”

“Yes, of course it-“  Virgil froze.

“I like the idea. Paint me a picture, bro?”

Virgil was now staring at him open mouthed.

Gordon was counting down again.

Sure enough, five seconds later he was scooped into a massive sticky hug. An awfully tight one. “Neeed to breeeathe, Virg.”

He was dropped back on the couch as his brother dashed across the studio, grabbed a clean canvas, and, shoving the old one off the easel, righted the support and dumped the new canvas in its place.

Virgil didn’t say much after that. Gordon received the distinct impression that his brother had fallen into that ‘zone’ he sometimes babbled about. So now that Virgil appeared happy and more himself, Gordon took the opportunity to make a quiet exit and go find that sandwich before his grumbling stomach broke the spell.

It was several hours and one giant sandwich later when Gordon finally saw Virgil again. His big brother was quiet and had obviously changed his clothes. There was still paint in his hair, but it was more character building than hazardous.

Virgil approached Gordon on his lounger, almost hesitantly. Very much un-big brother like.

“Hey, Virg. What’s shakin’ bacon?”

His brother rolled his eyes and twisted his lips, but only for a moment. “I wanted to say ‘thank you’, Gordon. For earlier. And to apologise for yelling at you.”

Gordon dismissed it with a waved hand. “Eh, not the first time, not going to be the last, and I can store it for when I need to blow your head off. Give a little, take a little, that’s the bro code. We’re cool.” He grinned up at his big brother.

That earned him a grunt and the canvas in his brother’s hand was shoved onto Gordon’s lap. Without another word, Virgil turned and left.

Gordon was too gobsmacked at what was in his lap to notice.

It was Four.

Kinda.

She wasn’t yellow, but she was yellow, a shade made by the most unsuspecting colours, almost like facets to a gem, the light catching her and sparkling.

Her number Four was alive.

But the sea around Four was even more.

Every shade of pink not made from pink, but pink nonetheless. So pink in places that it was almost blue, but not. Corals, sponges and fish radiated pink in as many facets as Four shone yellow.

It was an extraordinary piece of art.

And so wow.

He stared back into the villa where his brother had disappeared to.

So many thoughts swirled in his head. Gordon had played his brother. Saw the frustration and anger and sought the road to yank him out of the spiral. And he had succeeded. Not entirely in ways he fully understood, because yes, so much pink in those shadows, but he did understand enough about Virgil.

How sometimes he needed a little beast to create his beauty.

And Gordon was happy with his role in that.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #nuttyfic #nutty's fandomversary #FishTank

[gumnut-logic]

A quick guide to Nutty’s blog

Hi, everyone, new and old to this blog.

Been meaning to write this up for some time. Finally just sat down and wrote stuff because it needs to be done since I’ve recently been posting a few more things in one topic and a few less in others.

This blog started off as a fandom blog. It still is. You will see fanfic and art from the amazing Thunderbirds fandom, both mine and others posted here regularly. Along with prompts, discussions, challenges and other shenanigans. Love da Thunderfam.

If you haven’t already worked it out, Virgil is my fav Tracy brother, but love them all really and write them all to varying degrees.

However, I also post art and craft here, so you will see some of that. Some of you may have followed me recently for this reason. If so, welcome!

One handy thing to know is that I’m a librarian and this blog is tagged within an inch of its life. So with a little fiddling with Tumblr, you can follow/block any tags of mine you want to, or don’t want to see.

So here is the key to my blog :D

For the Thunderfam:

Nuttyfic is where you will find all my original posting of my fic (except the very early ones - it took me a bit to clue on that I might want to find my stuff one day.

Nuttyfic reblog is where I reblog my previously published stuff at a whim or because I wanted to at some point. These are all repeats and formatted differently from my new fics. you can block this one if you find them annoying.

thunderbirds fanfiction and thunderbirds fanart are basically what they say. Everyone’s, including mine, blogged, reblogged, whatever. If you are looking for a particular person’s work on my blog, all work reblogged by me has the artist’s name tagged to the post. For example, tracybirds, gaviiadastra, soniabigcheese, thatkidwholikesthunderbirds, etc

Flyboytracy, our amazing gif-maker, I plead guilty to reblogging a lot of their stuff (though likely only a fraction of what they have done - find them at @flyboytracy )

TBDailyDose is my tag for all my screen shots. So if you are looking for art reference, this might be a great place to start. Admittedly, you will discover how often I reuse favourite shots, but there are a lot of headshots in that pile. I really should capture more.

I’ve also tagged for character content - Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Grandma Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Hiram Hackenbacker, Jeff Tracy, Eos, Penelope Creighton Ward, Aloysius Parker.

Bro combos - earth and sky, fishtank, astroturf - not a complete list this one and many more recent than some of the other tags.

There are some relationships tagged as well - virgil/kayo, scott/em, scayo, virgil/brains, gordon/penelope (pen and ink) - if you are not a fan of romance, I’ve have been tagging for that for about the last year, so it can be blocked if you desire.

I have also tagged all my major series, but you are probably better served by visiting my Ao3 account where everything is in order. But since I’m here...Kermadec AU, Supermen AU, Steampunk AU (and Where there be dragons AU), Callisto, Marks and Wings, Warm Rain, Gentle Rain.

And then there are some of the challenges held in Thunderfam - fanartam, fabfivefeb, irrelief, sensorysunday, nuttys fandomversary, fluffember.

Wow, that’s a lot of stuff.

For those of you not into fandom:

nuttybeads - all my crafting, which tends to be mostly beading, but does include crochet and micromacrame as well as whatever else catches my eyes and my wallet :D

nuttyart - admittedly this does include some fanart, mostly Thunderbirds, but from time to time, I do other stuff - like I should be doing :D

I’ve also recently started a palette challenge, for however long it lasts - you can find it tagged nuttypalette.

There will also be geeking out over nature topics and the occasional piece of photography usually of beaches, sunsets or critters.

And that is pretty much it in a nutshell (a very big nut in my case :D)

I hope you enjoy whatever you end up following here.

Nutty

(off the edge, but learning to fly)

#nutty is nuts

[gumnut-logic]

I wish I had something awesome to give you for your fandomversary, but in absence of something that can convey how glad I am you're here, and how grateful I am you told me about this wonderful community . . .

I wanna ask, out of all your published fics, do you have a favourite? Are there any that surprised you with the way they were received by readers? Is there a fic of yours that particularly makes you happy when you think about it?

And do you have any ideas for stories that you don't think you'll ever write, but you wish someone else might? (Weird question, I know.)

Also, if you need another prompt . . . Virgil's library.

You are wonderful to me ::hugs you so much:: Sorry for the delay. I think your questions scared me...I had to think! ::pokes rusty gears in brain::

Hmmm, questions...

Do I have a favourite? We'll Be Home For Christmas is at the top of most of my lists because it is my longest, it is finished (praise everything), and I had such a wonderful time writing it as I explored the Kermadecs with the boys - I know so much about this corner of the planet that I will likely never see, but wow, it is beautiful. Having said that, each of my fics have memories attached to them. Most often where I actually wrote them. Career Day and its sequel The Fight were fun as well. Of course, Sotto Voce was my first series, so will always be important. V.T Green! There are so many fics!

Are there any that surprised you with the way they were received by readers? Dirt, Who do you save, John?, Freckles - these are three of my most popular by kudos on Ao3. Dirt is positively traumatic in places and I felt the bad guy could have had more to him. Who do you save, John? has a turning point in the middle of it that I made because I realised I didn't have the energy to write what was required and I can't help but think it fails because of it, yet, it is currently my top fic by kudos. Freckles - I'm generally a Virgil writer, but every time I write Allie, the fic climbs to unexpected heights. Admittedly, this is a fun fic and I quite like it, but it is in my top five!

Is there a fic of yours that particularly makes you happy when you think about it? See my favourites list above :D Again it is We'll Be Home For Christmas, which is incidentally number 20 when my fics are ordered by kudos on Ao3. Oooh, A Good Day was written listening to a piano piece on loop. That was pure inspiration straight out of the music and very early on, so a big thing for me.

And do you have any ideas for stories that you don't think you'll ever write, but you wish someone else might? I have ideas sprouting like weeds, pretty much all the time. I need some weedkiller, a bit of Roundup, so there are many things I know I won't get around to. As for what I'd like other people to write, well, I write pretty much what I want to read, so Virgil comfort is my main cup of tea. This doesn't necessarily mean injuring the poor boy, but if you do, please fix him with lots of care and attention. Pamper the Virg. I'm very Virgil-centric, you may have noticed. I needs da Virg fic, gimme, gimme :D

Oooh a prompt. Because this prompt is going to disappear from my ask box when I hit post, I am going to write it on a sticky note and stick it to my computer. I dare not write it right at this very moment cos I know I am at least three fics deep on the WIP scale and I should finish something - anything - please, brain, let me finish something for a change - so I will stash it :D

Thank you so much for being so kind to me and supportive and for picking up the phone when I poke you at gawdawful o'clock desperate for you to read a fic so I can post it :D ::hugs ever so much::

Nutty

(ridiculously spoilt by Thunderfam, you guys are so kind to me ::hugs you all tight:: )

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #katblu42

[gumnut-logic]

Happy Fandomversary!

You give so much to the fandom, you really don't need to give us anything more.

However.

I do think often how you buried John under some rubble and left him there

https://gumnut-logic.tumblr.com/post/189358672646/more-random-scene

of course I have my own ideas as so what's happened *wiggles eyebrows* but is there anything more you can share with us? even not only fic, just ideas?

(or do I have your permission to write a little in this scenario as a fandomversary gift to you?)

Oh, I am sooo bad at answering asks sometimes. I have quite a few sitting here from over a month and a half ago ::hides the rest behind my back::

::hugs you so much for asking this::

Yes, I did bury poor Johnny. This fic was a case of having ten minutes before work on the side of the road to write anything, and as with many things in my life, it was likely derailed by life or another fic. I definitely still remember the scene vividly, though I will admit to not knowing what I did to John other than Virgil was in a panic. Also that they were going to have trouble getting out of the building? I think I wrote more in my head, but because it didn't get written down, it is very vague. There may have been a bomber still in the building. I did have a reason lined up and back story building, but I think I've lost most of it now (it was before I wrote my notes in a book).

So yes, you can take it and run with it. I figure if you come up with something and down the track I still want to continue it, the worse that could happen is hey, two fics, woo hoo, double the fun.

Besides, have you seen the pile of unfinished fics trailing behind me? I have plenty to play with anyway ::eyes When the World Goes Boom and Callisto and all the Five and Ones - this year has been the year of WIPs!::

Thank you so much for all your kind words and for asking and I would love to see what you can come up with.

Nutty

(absent-minded creative)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #john tracy #such a random rambler

[gumnut-logic]

Alan and sleeping :)

Sentinel

Fluff, a little angst, Scotty and Allie.

I hope you enjoy this Fandomversary fic :D

-o-o-o-

Scott’s eyelids slid closed for the fifth time in as many minutes, but he forced them open again.

He shifted where he sat, groaning a little as the hard floor made itself known against his butt, and flesh that had been denied blood flow regained it, sticking him with pins and needles.

The tablet in his hand was a desperate attempt to keep himself awake, but if he was truthful, it was actually aiding sleep more than anything else.

He let his head drop back against the wall.

A flicker and a blue glowing brother was suddenly hovering before him.

“Scott, go to bed. We can watch him.”

“No.” And his eyelids tried to plummet again. “I’m here. He needs me.”

John sighed. “You are dead on your feet. You’ll fall asleep and become a tripping hazard. Eos and I can keep an eye on him and alert you if necessary.”

“If I go to sleep, it will take time to wake up and get here. Anything could happen. I need to stay here.”

“All night?”

“If necessary.”

“And what about tomorrow night? What about tomorrow when you can’t function due to lack of sleep?”

Scott grunted at his brother and screwed up his face. “Go to bed, John.” A swipe of his hand and the hologram disappeared leaving the dark hallway dancing with afterimages.

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced them open again, making himself look at his tablet.

This wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time in quite a while and it had, quite frankly, scared him.

Scott had been on his way to bed when he noticed a figure out on the residential balcony. He had approached quietly, mostly out of curiosity as to which brother was up at midnight. It turned out to be Alan. But his little brother hadn’t responded when Scott called his name. Instead, he just kept walking towards the edge.

“Alan?”

“Godda sve Scoddy.” Alan’s hands were at his hips and Scott realised two things almost simultaneously. His little brother’s hands were trying to activate his space thruster assembly so he could fly.

And he was sleepwalking.

They say the human body can move at extraordinary speed when needed. Apparently, Scott had that capability because next thing he had his arms full of teenage brother clutched to his chest.

Right on the very edge of the balcony.

His heart was the only sound he could hear.

It took a moment or two, but Scott drew Alan away from the edge and picking him up, something he hadn’t done in years, bundled him back to bed.

Alan hadn’t stirred, simply falling back into a much safer slumber as Scott tucked him in under the covers.

Scott’s heart continued its frantic march.

Closing Alan’s bedroom door behind him, he suddenly found he couldn’t leave.

What if Alan walked again?

What if he tried to fly off the balcony again, this time while Scott was asleep?

There were ways to prevent this from happening that could be enacted tomorrow, but right now he found he could only rest if he was standing guard. So, he plonked himself down outside Alan’s door to sit and sentinel.

This wasn’t Alan’s first sleepwalking incident. It had occurred before during stressful times such as after their father’s disappearance and difficulties at school. But it had been a long time and Scott had hoped he had grown out of it.

Apparently not.

John was right. Eos could easily monitor. But Scott wanted to be there.

He had to be there. This was obviously because of the incident with Halley’s comet. He had a familiar urge to throttle Lemaire yet again.

Instead, he just attempted to keep his eyes open for longer.

But ultimately, it had been an exhausting day and despite the hard floor, somewhere between researching sleepwalking and a check on Tracy Industries stock levels, he lost his battle with his eyelids and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

He woke curled up on his side, the first early light of dawn lighting up the sky through the rafters. It took him a little longer than usual to fully awaken and for a moment there, he had no idea where he was.

Hair tickled his nose.

He became aware of a smaller but warm body curled around him. A hand clutched in the fabric of his t-shirt. Soft breath on his collarbone.

Scott shifted and the body groaned softly, hugging him tighter. “Scoddy.”

Alan.

His little brother was curled up with him on the hallway floor, asleep.

Scott’s body was stiff and sore, but he suddenly had no wish to move whatsoever. His little brother was warm and safe and obviously had what he was looking for.

Scott let a sigh out through his teeth and closed his eyes again.

Wrapping his arm around his little brother, he drifted back to sleep.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott Tracy #Alan Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Hey Nutty! First - Congratulations on your fandomversary!!! Yay! Okay, a prompt for you. Gonna ask for Virgil (predictable, I know!), with the word John!? (and yes, the punctuation is deliberate). Does that work?

Useful

aka Five times his family needed Virgil's heavy lifting muscles and one time he needed theirs.

Fandomversary fic!

Apparently, this is a multi-parter. Who knew? Here's hoping I can most of this written today :D Each part should be an individual ficlet, so no unfinished bits :D

I hope you enjoy ::hugs you so much:: Thank you for being amazing.

-o-o-o-

1.

“John?!”

Virgil almost dropped his morning coffee, adrenalin overshooting what little effect the caffeine had already had and propelling him across the kitchen as his ill space brother nearly took a dive down the stairs headfirst.

Catching the man was as instinctive as it could be, all pyjama-clad, red-haired little brother muttering multiple curse words in multiple languages against his ear as Virgil thanked the universe for every heavy lifting muscle he possessed.

Little brothers really shouldn’t be taller than big brothers. It made looking after them when sick and stupidly mobile just that extra bit more hard work.

Lifting the protesting astronaut into his arms, he quickly realised there was no soft spot to lay him down in the kitchen – they really needed to get a lounge down here – and instead, carefully manoeuvred himself and John back up the stairs and into the lounge.

John only protested louder, one hand flailing against Virgil’s shoulder.

John wasn’t weak. The man had his own variety of heavy lifting. Space life was anything but kind and he had to work his ass off to maintain his strong fitness level in order to live up there. But one of the side effects of that life was an immune system that just didn’t get the regular exposure to bugs that it needed to keep primed and while Virgil and their grandmother made sure John, in particular, was dosed up with every inoculation available, he had to come back to Earth eventually and almost inevitably he would pick up something.

Most of the time they were just inconveniences, but this one was a nasty piece of work and had had John laid up in bed for the last few days.

No wonder his brother hated returning to Terra Firma.

Virgil manoeuvred him onto one of the comms room couches to the tune of…was that Latin? Apparently, John could swear in Latin. Who knew?

“What were you thinking?”

Weary aquamarine stared up at him. “I wanted a drink.”

For the love of-!

“Why didn’t you call me?”

John blinked and it was blatantly obvious it hadn’t even occurred to the man.

Virgil sighed. “You spend far too much time on your own. You should know better. We are all here to help you, John. Just ask.” Maybe Virgil should get Eos in on this. His brother obviously was far too used to looking after himself.

The guilt that appeared in John’s eyes softened Virgil’s heart. Another sigh and he squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Rest. I will get you your drink.

And he strode off shaking his head.

All before coffee.

Before coffee, damnit.

Though he had to admit adrenalin had a kick to it that caffeine just couldn’t compare.

-o-o-o-

Fic 2

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Useful (Fic 2)

Fic 1 | Fic 2

These are for @katblu42 who sent me a Fandomversary Prompt and this happened :D I have work this afternoon (drat it), but I will try to write most of this today.

Five times his family needed Virgil’s heavy lifting muscles and one time he needed theirs.

I hope you enjoy this Allie chapter :D

-o-o-o-

2.

Virgil entered the kitchen to the sound of banging. Banging much too loud for nine am.

A frown and he discovered Alan making a sandwich. For breakfast?

“Oh, hey, Virgil.”

He grunted. Well, politely grunted. He wasn’t up to words yet. There would be coffee first.

That earned him a smirk from his smallest brother.

Hmph.

As if to tease the matter - Alan had always been a bit of a thrill seeker after all - rocket boy tried to engage him in conversation.

“Whatcha got planned today?”

Virgil dug his mug out of the cupboard and switched on the magic machine.

Here was the kicker. The safer option would be for Virgil to not answer and ignore his little brother, but etiquette, all that politeness and fairness drilled into him from birth, into his very soul, demanded that he acknowledge the question and at least make an attempt at replying beyond another animalistic grunt.

And the little shit knew that. The smart-ass smile on his face was proof.

“Working on Two.”

There. He made three whole words and satisfied courtesy.

He turned back to the magic machine and revelled in the smell of the wonders of morning creation.

“I was thinking that perhaps we could have a beach day. You know, a get together, all of us? We haven’t done that in a while and since John’s home and feeling better, we could all be together. It’s been ages.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped in immediate self-castigation. Little brother was thinking of his family and Virgil Tracy was a pre-drugged ass.

“Sounds good.” And it really did. A day to relax, bar a rescue, that was always a possibility. But if they held off on doing stuff just because of that they would never get anything done. Interrupted at the beach was better than not going to the beach at all.

The coffee machine emitted so much lovely steam, breathing it in was almost heaven.

Almost.

Heaven usually involved the actual liquid in a cup.

He blinked. Alan was talking about something to do with a barbecue.

A sharp crack behind him and his heart missed a beat before slamming into full throttle.

Spinning, Virgil got an eyeful of Alan raising a large jar in one hand and Virgil had just enough time to open his mouth before his brother slammed its rim against the counter again.

Virgil physically shook with the impact.

“Alan?! What the hell?”

Blue eyes looked up at him and widened as if suddenly realising he had poked a bear with a stick by accident.

Which apparently, he had.

“Oh, uh, sorry Virg. Uh, just trying to get this jar of pickles open.” His brother held up the glass monstrosity.

“By bashing it against the bench?”

“Yeah, it’s a valid technique…” And then Alan, who claimed he had trouble with physics in class, rattled off enough reasoning behind his actions to fill a text book.

Virgil took a step towards his little brother and Alan’s eyes widened even further. “Uh, I said I was sorry. I didn’t think. I know it is early. Why are you up so early anyway? Oh, yeah, to work on Two. Was that because of Lemaire yesterday?” Alan flinched and Virgil realised his face must have revealed a little of what Virgil thought of what Lemaire had done to his ‘bird. “Uh, yeah, I get it. Sucks. Um, look, your coffee is nearly ready.” Alan pointed in the direction of the magic machine.

It was an obvious attempt at distraction and Virgil’s heart melted.

Did he really want to see that expression on his little brother’s face?

No.

Should he engage in conversation before his morning coffee?

Definitely not.

Did his brothers realise this?

Probably.

Were they occasionally stupid enough to deny that fact?

Obviously.

He reached out and grabbed the damned pickle jar from his brother’s hands. A twist of his wrist and the lid of the jar unscrewed with the barest of protests.

Alan stared at it, eyes still wide.

Virgil slapped it down on the counter, possibly a little louder than he should.

Alan jumped.

Virgil immediately felt guilty.

He would apologise after coffee.

After coffee.

Turning back to the magic machine, he poured liquid sense into his cup and inhaled some more.

Behind him, the jar scraped across the counter and the sounds of a pickle being retrieved and sliced up was all that existed for a few moments.

His cup filled, Virgil’s first sip was bliss. He closed his eyes.

“So, Virg…” And Alan began rattling off barbecue plans at a volume that really didn’t improve his chances of survival.

An internal sigh.

Alan was a smart kid, just not on all fronts.

Thank god for coffee.

-o-o-o-

Fic 3

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Alan Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Useful (Fic 6)

Fic 1 | Fic 2 | Fic 3 | Fic 4 | Fic 5 | Fic 6

Five times his family needed Virgil’s heavy lifting muscles and one time he needed theirs.

These are for @katblu42​​​​ who sent me a Fandomversary Ask.

No idea whether this is any good, proofed only by me, I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

...one time Virgil needed his brothers’ heavy lifting muscles.

He lay down on an old towel tossed on the sand. The cotton was warm from being in the sun, but here under the pohutukawa tree at the very edge of the beach, he was shaded and cool.

The sand was soft under his hand and he absently rubbed grains between his fingertips.

At the edge of the caldera, the ripples of the lagoon lapped at the beach. Small waves attempting to clamber up the slope and ever failing.

He stared at them.

Movement at the corner of his eye had him turning his head, just a little to see a hermit crab stumbling awkwardly over sea detritus not two feet away.

It provided focus for his tired mind. He watched each leg as it chose a purchase and attempted to grip seaweed, sometimes failing, but mostly advancing its trek across the beach.

Its rhythms gave him peace and calm.

He could say it had been a long day, but it had in fact been a long night with a stinking factory fire, and what little sleep he had managed had been haunted by the failures in the early hours of the morning.

It wasn’t a new thing. Their isolation and position on the globe guaranteed that a good percentage of their callouts occurred at night.

Last night had just been one of those.

And god, he was tired.

He had made his way down to the beach out of desperation. Even coffee had given him no solace, blasphemy though that thought might be.

The villa had been just a little too noisy, not that his family was loud, he just needed some time to himself and he was sick of staring at the walls of his room.

The beach was quiet except for the wind and waves both close and in the distance. Birds commented on life every now and again, but ultimately, he let the sounds of the natural world soak in and wash away the tension caught in every cell of his body.

The towel was soft against his cheek.

He had swum in the shallows for a short time, despite the fact such an action increased the chances of a family member or two checking up on him or joining in the activity.

But no, he was left to himself, a fact that he was both glad of and a touch disappointed in.

He wasn’t only sick of the walls of his room, but also the circle of his thoughts both reaching out for contact and retreating to hide.

He was just so tired.

The towel on the soft sand in the shade was just too tempting.

The crab scampered towards the water and Virgil’s eyes drooped closed.

-o-o-o-

He rose out of a deep sleep to the touch on his forehead.

“Found ya.” A sigh and click of comms connection. “Scott, he’s on Mosaic Beach.”

Fingers brushed gently through his hair, and he found it comforting in the haze of half awake, half asleep. “It’s going to be okay, Virgil.”

Allie, it was Allie.

His little brother.

He drifted back to sleep.

-o-o-o-

“We can’t use a hover stretcher.” The deep familiar voice of his eldest brother nudged him awake again.

Couldn’t they let him sleep?

“We could wake him.”

“It’s better he sleep.” John? Oh, yes, he had come down this morning. “He needs the rest. At least until Grandma can run the tests.”

Tests? Something triggered in the back of his head, but he found it, preferring to grab at oblivion. He curled up tighter.

“Shh!”

He languished in a sleepy fog. Water splashed somewhere and he drifted off again.

-o-o-o-

He was shaken out of deep slumber again, this time literally. His shoulders were being held, but his brain was too sluggish to react before he was suddenly resting on something soft. He immediately curled up on his side.

“Aww, he looks so cute.”

Alan.

“Keep it down.”

Scott. Virgil could hear the frown. Why was Scott frowning?

“Gordon, put the camera away.” Now Scott was hissing.

Virgil grumbled. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? Someone touched him and he swiped at it. “G’way!”

“Shit.”

“Gordon!”

“It’s okay, Virgil, go back to sleep.” John’s voice was strangely calming. John has a lovely voice.

He buried his face more into the pillow.

Pillow? He frowned and material brushed against his eyebrows.

But then fingers were in his hair and gently stroking. It was…nice. He melted just a little, letting out a sigh.

He caught a whisper from his fish brother as he drifted. “Wow, Scott, you gotta show me how to do that.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

-o-o-o-

The world was swaying ever so gently. He felt wrapped up and snug as he was rocked gently.

“Alan, hold your end a little higher.”

Virgil’s feet rose level with his chest and he muttered in contentment.

“God, he’s heavy.”

“Gordon, there are four of us and one of him. How many times has he picked both you and Allie up at the same time?”

Gordon snorted. “The man has muscles in his ears, John.”

“All the better to hear you with, so shut up.” Scott’s harsh whisper was acidic.

“Sorry.”

-o-o-o-

The smell of antiseptic teased his nostrils. What?

“Is he okay, Grandma?”

“He’s just exhausted, Scott. I can find no sign of exposure. He’s clear.”

“He was asleep on the beach.”

“It’s a good place to sleep.”

“We carried him all the way up here and he didn’t even stir.”

“He was damned heavy, too.” Gordon was grumbling.

“He’s your brother.” Scott’s tone was admonishing.

“I know and I’d die for him. He just needs to eat less.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?” Virgil’s voice croaked as if he hadn’t used it for weeks as he rolled over and, squinting, opened his eyes.

His entire family was in the room. Wha-?

“Virgil?” Scott’s eyes widened and he hurried over to the side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

He was in the infirmary. Why?

Before he could answer, his grandmother had a medscanner out and was running it the length of him. Her shoulders dropped as if relief as she read the results. “No change.”

“What’s going on?”

Scott rested a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “That factory fire last night? Turns out it wasn’t a fish factory, but a chemical laboratory. There were some concerns you might have been exposed. Three of the people you saved have since died due to exposure.”

Virgil stared up at his eldest brother. There was still too much fog in his head. “Smelt like fish.” He had lost people?

“It was only a cover.”

A blink and Virgil turned to Gordon. “Smelt like hardwork. Had to run a detam cycle. Couldn’t get rid of the stink.” His heart hurt. Which ones?

Scott’s fingers tightened on Virgil’s shoulder. “You ran a decontamination cycle?”

He looked up at his eldest brother. “On myself, the equipment and Two when we got home.” It had been late and he had been so tired, but… He shot a glare at his fish brother. “Smelt like Gordon after one of his deep sea things. At least a week’s worth. Needed to get clean or die on the way home.”

Scott almost wilted on the spot. “Thank god.” His head dropped to look at his feet. “Probably saved your life.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” It was an exhalation. The hand on his shoulder squeezed again.

“So, what you are saying, is that Virgil has me to thank for the extensive detam cycles he built into Two’s cockpit that inadvertently saved his life?” Gordon’s smirk was far too smart ass.

“Because you stink.” Alan had a smirk on his face as well.

John arched an eyebrow. “We have proof that Gordon is toxic enough to be a threat to health after one of his prolonged deep sea dives.” Kind aquamarine caught Virgil’s eyes. “I think our aquanaut might owe Virgil compensation.” His lips quirked.

“Compensation?!” Gordon appeared outraged. “Like what?”

Alan suggested slavery and Gordon told him where to shove it. John intervened, but it went downhill from there. Virgil tuned it out and turned to look up at his eldest brother. “Which ones?”

Blue eyes were ever so sad. “One male and two female. From the second building.”

Virgil thought back. One of those women had been screaming something at him as the building collapsed. The other two had been unconscious already.

Scott sat down quietly on the edge of the bed. “Not your fault, Virg.”

“I know.” A breath. “Still sucks.”

“Yeah, I know.” Scott still had his hand on Virgil’s shoulder and it was comforting.

“How are you feeling?”

Virgil sighed. “Tired.”

“Still? You’ve been asleep for hours. We dragged you up here in a bedsheet and you barely stirred.”

“What? Why?”

“Chemical was reactive to strong electromagnetic fields. Couldn’t risk a hover stretcher. Grandma had to do a blood test and rule out a lot before you could be scanned. You’ve been out of it for a long time.”

Virgil blinked. All he remembered was the sway and fingers in his hair…and his brothers’ voices. “I knew you were here.”

He reached out and, as Gordon raised his voice only to be cut off by Grandma on the far side of the room, Virgil placed his hand over Scott’s. “It helps.”

Scott stared, but his lips curled into a small smile.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Nutty’s Fandomversary

Saturday 17 July 2021 is my three years Thunderbirds Fandomversary. On Saturday, three years ago,  I posted my first fic in this fandom No-one is Losing Their Dad Today.

As I have done in the previous two years, I am celebrating. However, this year marks a few extra milestones:

I recently passed 200 Thunderbirds works on Ao3

I recently clocked up over one million words written solely for Thunderbirds on Ao3.

I will admit that I’m a little bit chuffed at that :D Who would’ve thought an absent-minded, easily distracted nut-job like me could manage that? There has been a lot of self examination and arguments with the muse to finish fics in the last three years. Admittedly, some of those fics in that 200 are not complete :( But most of them are and I’m going with that. :P

So to celebrate all of the above, as with previous years, I’m offering ficlets! Let’s up those numbers even more :D

Send me an ask (so I can keep track):

with a character and a single word challenge

and, optionally, if you prefer one of my AUs, throw that in as well.

I will put a disclaimer here, because you know me - I have little control over my muse. I will do my best, but I reserve the right to throw my hands up in the air and glare at characters who misbehave, plotlines that won’t work and a muse that is a rebellious little shit. Please do not be offended if your prompt doesn’t get done.

2020′s Fandomversary fic haul included:

Lucky Shot - Gordon and nosebleed

Different - John and dancing

That Musical Voice - Virgil and struggle

Test Flight - Scott and butterflies

Reactions - Gordon and bedlam (over 30,000 words is not a ficlet!)

Cat Tracy - Scott and cat

Who do you save, John? - shopping and any Tracy bro (neither is 16,000 words!)

Tiptoe - Virgil and tiptoe

2019′s Fandomversary fic haul included:

Big Ass - John and gravity

Freckles - Alan and family (a favourite of mine :D)

Green Dragonstone - Brains and pancakes (V/K)

Ben - Virgil/Brains and first kiss

Lost in Space - Scott and space (Scott/Em)

His Little Red Haired Daughter - John and blood

Virgil and the Last Straw - Virgil and the last straw

Bagel - John and …… (the word was a spoiler so read the fic first)

Flying True - Scott and ‘stay gold’

Ostinato - Any brother riding the space elevator asleep (Sotto Voce AU)

As you can see, sometimes the term ‘ficlet’ gets warped. I will try again this year to stop that from happening as I have Callisto up my sleeve.

Speaking of which...I have decided that in order to run Fandomversary, I will need to put Callisto on hold for about five weeks - a month for Fandomversary and an extra week for Virgil’s birthday :D Apologies for the delay, but I’m hoping that by giving myself permission to put it down for a little bit, I can better pick it back up next month - I was starting to flag thanks to the Steampunk AU, so I’m thinking a break might be good idea before it starts becoming a chore.

But anyway, Fandomversary is now open, send me an ask and I will see what I can come up with.

Nutty

(Hopefully a bit of a thank you to all the wonderful peeps in Thunderfam who have supported me ever so much and enabled me to be able to write all those words and kept my focus on the Tracy boys. You don’t realise just how much you all mean to me ::hugs you all ever so much:: )

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Everything

This started off as a response to a challenge from @flyboytracy​ but it got itself derailed and I have no real idea what it is or what happened. It appears I may have been hit by a poetry book or something.

Many thanks to @janetm74​ for reading parts of this.

This was finished in a hurry due to RL responsibilities, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. It is all Scotty :D

I guess I’ll be making another attempt at that challenge. :D

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy has been hugged by many people in his life. From the barest of touches to frantic life-sustaining holds that have almost taken his. Men, women, children, hell, even that koala that fell on him during a bushfire in new South Wales.

Those claws hurt.

All needed something of him.

Something he needs himself.

He is one to seek out touch. He has hugged in laughter, over coffee, in greeting after a long absence. There have been polite meetings with simple clasping of hands.

He has buried his body in the embrace of female company. Silken skin, soft lips and harsh breath.

Scott Tracy needs connection, a shared electricity with another human being.

Yet he has a tendency to keep himself aloof and isolated.

Protected.

One of his first memories is of being held by his mother. Gentle words and caring touch. Into that memory entered his father, grey eyes and a reassuring smile.

As he grew older there were brothers and stumbling enthusiastic grabs coupled with “Scotty!” Love on short chubby legs. Tears and tustles, struggles over math assignments and the last cannoli.

The loss of Mom and the hugs changed to clinging desperation and dependence. His father faded out for a while and Scott found himself giving more than receiving. But there were still hugs, young and troubled, coupled with Grandma.

Grandma gave ever so reassuring hugs. As he grew, she grew smaller, but her hugs were still as strong, if not even more. Loving, supportive and there.

Dad came back eventually, scarred and hurting, and there were tears and recriminations, but ultimately, he was Dad and Scott was Scott and there was too much love to sever anything. Scott had a trail of brothers behind him and a man he admired above all others in front of him.

The sky was his.

But he always needed Earth.

Especially when the sky took his father as well.

Scott staggered after that. How could that happen? So close….so close…

Four brothers. His sister. His grandmother. All looking to him, along with a world trying to measure his worth in comparison to a legend.

He needed touch more than ever before. Perhaps he sought it in places he shouldn’t have for a while, but family always drew him back.

His brothers, corralled by the eldest bar him, marshalled into line, ready to support in any way they could.

They were the Tracy family. They had lost a lot, but they still had each other.

So, Scott Tracy stepped into his father’s shoes and birthed a new legend. First there was Jeff Tracy, astronaut and entrepreneur.

Then there was Scott Tracy, rescue operative and business leader.

Hero.

In a family of heroes.

And while the legend outgrew the man, the man was still Scott Tracy. Who still needed the touch of another human.

One-night stands grew few and far between and were not missed. There were friends, but most were on the other side of the planet, far from their island paradise.

Grandma was still there. Grandma was always there. She caught him on days it was all too much. Walked with him to the far side of the island to watch the waves crash against the cliffs in a horrible metaphor to his dreams.

Quiet words. Calming touch. Ever reassurance as grey crept into his hair.

He was a parent to his brothers, leader to all.

Little Allie needed him as much as Scott had needed his father and Scott gave him everything he had. Those bright blue eyes, ever so eager, ever so admiring and aspiring, brought so much love, Scott’s heart swelled at each rocket-powered embrace.

Tanusha denied leadership. Kayo was as determined as he was and rebelled against containment. Her hugs were rough, passionate and ever so heartfelt. Her love was fuelled by anger and injustice and he found himself stepping between her and hurt. His little sister protected her brothers and Scott protected her from the world as best he could.

Gordon, ever so focussed and so achieving, fought to the highest heights, only to fall into the worst of lows as they nearly lost another cherished family member.

Scott wasn’t sure he could bury another Tracy.

He didn’t think he could do it.

There were moments of absolute despair.

It was Grandma and his older brothers who kept him sane. Kept him balancing everything, including himself.

But Gordon was a stubborn fish. His little brother fought with everything he had and won again. No gold medals, no cheering crowds, just that triumphant hug at the end of the walking rails as he collapsed into Scott’s arms.

There were tears.

Of so much happiness.

Gordon grew to be the sunlight in their lives.

The quiet touch of John was to be cherished. His reclusive brother, taught by society that different was unacceptable, did not open up very often, even to family, his staunchest allies.

But there were vulnerable moments, simple, loving moments where his brother would reach out and Scott would gratefully receive.

Love has its own diversity and the only requirement is acceptance.

Sometimes John’s words were as powerful as his touch and in the dark moments, sometimes Scott clung to them to the point of keeping a quote stored on his phone so he could reread it and remember that no matter how far away John was, he was there.

But there was one brother who stood with him on equal terms. One who was willing to put him in his place, pick him up off the floor and yell at him when it was needed.

His best friend.

His confident.

The Earth to his Sky.

Virgil was always there with a calm word, reassuring touch, a reality that snapped him into line. He was the sounding board and the enactor. Scott planned it. Virgil made it happen.

Perhaps it was the medical knowledge or just a brotherly sixth sense, but Virgil always knew exactly what Scott needed. He knew the need of a firm word, or a denial, a hand on a shoulder and ultimately when everything was just too much, to wrap him in flannel clad arms and just hide him from the world for a few precious moments.

His eldest brother possessed a warmth that was as passionate as any of his brothers’, but tempered with a calm that stilled Scott’s frantic mind.

Ever so gently.

So, Scott Tracy needs connection, a shared electricity with another human being.

Yet he has a tendency to keep himself aloof and isolated.

Protected.

But he has a family who knows better, a family marshalled by a kick ass grandmother and an eldest brother who will bulldoze through whatever is thrown at them to get Scott whatever he needs.

Because they love him as much as he loves them.

And honestly, that is everything.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Useful (Fic 3)

Fic 1 | Fic 2 | Fic 3

Five times his family needed Virgil’s heavy lifting muscles and one time he needed theirs.

These are getting a little outlandish, but I hope they are still fun :D

These are for @katblu42​ who sent me a Fandomversary Ask. This time it is Gordy’s turn :D Yes, this has gotten a little out of hand :D But I has a plan, I promise. Unfortunately after writing three this morning, I now have to go waste all my energy at work. I hope I can write the remaining three tonight or over the next couple of days. ::pouts::

Oh, and there is what could be considered a little ship in this, but honestly, it isn’t much...really just Virgil being hopeful more than anything else :D

I hope you enjoy this :D

-o-o-o-

3.

“Hey, Virg, c’mere.”

Virgil nearly lost his drink as Gordon yanked on his arm. “Gordon?!”

His fish brother muttered something that could possibly be considered an apology in some reality, somewhere, but kept pulling, dragging Virgil across the room.

They were at a London function, dressed to the nines, cufflinks and all, and Virgil had been in a very interesting conversation with his plus one. That plus one being Cass McCready and she was dressed in a most appealing manner that had him itching for a paintbrush…among other things.

Instead, he was being dragged across the floor by his fish brother and Cass was fast vanishing behind him in the crowd.

Her amused smile was rather alluring at least.

Gordon and he were going to have words after this.

His brother finally stopped tugging when they reached a group of rather burly looking men and women. All of them were dressed in evening wear, but there was a certain anticipation in all their expressions.

What?

A small table had been set up with two chairs. A particularly large man was sitting in one of them, an air of confidence emanating off of him.

Virgil stared.

“Virg, it is up to you to uphold how Tracy honour.” Gordon straightened beside him.

“What?”

“I need you to arm wrestle this man and prove your heavy lifting muscles to these dunderheads.”

There was a muffle of snorts at that and Virgil suddenly realised he knew a couple of these guys.

This was Blue Squad. Cass’ firefighting team.

A soft sigh of silk and Cass appeared at his elbow. “Looks like you have a challenge there, Tracy.” She was smiling at him.

It was a nice smile.

“C’mon, Virg, Tracy honour is at stake.”

He turned to his brother and glared, only to find Penelope on the fish’s arm.

Oh, honour, definitely.

Shows of masculinity really weren’t his thing. Scott had been known to flex his muscles occasionally for the ladies, even if it wasn’t immediately obvious, but Virgil was quite happy to draw attention in other ways.

Cass placed a hand on his arm and whispered in his ear. “The team need a little encouragement. Show them how it is done.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. This was her squad…and then he saw the sparkle in her eye. His lips curled as he saw the pride in her people shining there.

“Virg…” It was almost a whine as Gordon tugged on his tux again.

“Okay. Fine.”

“Yess!”

Gordon should never play poker.

Or maybe he should. His military brother did know how to play a situation, after all. This was possibly all a show.

Virgil folded himself into the chair opposite and found himself looking up at the firey opposite him. “Hi. Virgil Tracy.”

“Butch Huggins.” His voice was like a rumbling rock fall and his smile ever so confident. This was definitely a guy you wanted on your side when busting into a building on fire. He looked like he could take down a wall even in his tux.

Gordon, what the hell have you gotten me into?

A glance up at the spectators involved and he found himself ringed in eager smiles, Cass’ included.

She did have a lovely smile.

“Are we doing this?” The rock fall was apparently getting impatient.

Virgil swallowed and, unclipping his cufflinks, a present from Scott some time ago, rolled up his sleeve.

Butch did the same, revealing tattoos of flame up the length of well-defined forearm.

Maybe he should have brought his exosuit with him tonight.

The image of his claw and everything it was capable of filled his mind for a moment.

Gordon was dead when they got home tonight.

One dead fish.

And Scott might even grill him. Yes, Virgil was petty enough to bring in big bro on this one.

Where was Scott anyway?

Probably enjoying some female company. This Firey’s Charity Ball was full of very capable women, after all.

Butch slammed his elbow down on the table enough to trigger Virgil’s funny bone from afar.

Okay, well, apparently he was doing this.

Why did he feel so small? He wasn’t used to feeling small.

But confidence wasn’t something he was lacking, it was just the laws of physics didn’t seem to be leaning in his direction at the moment.

Cursing his fish brother from here to Atlantis, Virgil placed his elbow on the table. Butch grabbed his hand.

It was like being grabbed by a gorilla. Honestly, the man’s hand was huge.

If he was injured doing this and off rescues for any time at all, Gordon wasn’t going to be the only Tracy death later on.

Scott would kill both of them.

Cass was watching, though.

Virgil kicked himself for being so stupid.

Could he kill Gordon twice?

“Okay, we ready?” Gordon was flicking his eyes between Virgil and Butch.

“Ready.” Seriously, the man had a crumbling mountain for a voice.

“Let’s get this over with.” Virgil glared at his little brother.

Though something was warm in his stomach that Gordon was proud enough of him to set him up like this.

A little warm.

Very little.

“Ready, set…” Focus. “Go.”

And suddenly the mountain was falling on him.

Butch grunted, obviously throwing himself into this.

But Virgil Tracy had had mountains fall on him before and his shoulders were well trained in catching them.

The force travelled up his arm into his shoulder. His bicep was assisted by a considerable trapezius and deltoid, and while his forearm worked, his well-built pectoral joined in the refusal to move. Virgil pivoted just a little in his seat as practised reflexes took the strain.

And negated it.

Butch yelped as his hand was flexed backwards and slammed elegantly to the table top.

Oh, shit.

Virgil let go immediately. “Are you okay? Let me see that.” He reached for the man’s hand as it was quickly yanked away the moment he released it.

Butch stared at him. “How the hell?”

But Virgil didn’t have the chance to answer as the crowd around them erupted into cheers and hollers. There were hands patting him on the back and grabbing at him.

Someone kissed his cheek.

He blushed as he realised it was Cass.

Suddenly appreciating that he was still sitting down and there was an entire squad of fireman glaring at him…with some respect along with the outrage, Virgil hurriedly clambered to his feet.

“Way to go, Virg, I knew you could do it!” Gordon was bouncing on his feet.

Virgil shot him with his eyes.

The fish ignored him and kept bouncing until Penelope wrapped an elegant hand around his arm and distracted him with a smile.

She winked at Virgil.

A strong hand wrapped around Virgil’s bicep in almost a mirror move. “Smooth, Tracy. Huggins needed to be put in his place. I can use this to up the training regime. You’ve slapped down a benchmark.”

Virgil turned to find that beautiful smile on her face again. Her squad was grumbling behind her, shooting admiring glances mixed with glares in his direction.

Maybe he should join the squad next vacation just to fix that.

Yes, that was the entire reason why that suddenly seemed even more attractive.

Cass’ smile widened as she tugged gently on his arm, letting her head drop to his shoulder as it became a laugh.

Hmm, maybe he should thank the fish after killing him.

-o-o-o-

Fic 4

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #cass mccready #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Between work and the annoying need to sleep, I haven’t managed much writing over the last couple of days. This is all I have to offer. It more hints than provides story, but here’s hoping I can add to it at some point.

-o-o-o-

Anna straightened up her desk for the third time since she had sat down five minutes ago.

It was six pm on a Wednesday night. A special appointment for a parent-teacher interview, the last for this particular student.

Alan Tracy wouldn’t be returning to this school next year.

She knew she shouldn’t become attached to her students, but Alan and Rory were different. Both had their challenges and she had become very involved in helping them achieve their schooling despite them.

Rory was steaming ahead now he had been separated from his father. There had been some assistance provided in his home. He spoke of a visit from a very fancy lady who had talked to his mother at length and then asked Rory some questions. Anna had to smile when the twelve-year-old declared her ‘weird and ugly pink’, but apparently she had a friend who knew all the cool tricks and as Rory was able to hang out with ‘Uncle Al’ while the pink lady spoke with his mother, things were good.

Apparently, Uncle Al had visited a couple of times since. Rory’s book work mentioned him several times. Anna was just happy that more positive experiences were visiting a sensitive boy who had had the misfortune to be born to an asshole.

The McIntyre brothers were in jail and the Tracys’ lawyer was making sure they stayed there. It was a relief on her part. They haunted her dreams enough.

Kyrano made an appearance every now and again, likely just for her sake, to remind her he was watching, but other than that the remainder of the year had been quiet.

A huge pile of work, of course, with two students taking her classes remotely. But she had made it work and was quite proud of the accomplishment.

Now the year was coming to an end and she had to say goodbye to another class. Always bittersweet, but this year particularly hard.

“Ms Kent?”

She jumped, completely lost in her own world, she hadn’t heard him enter.

Mr Scott Tracy stood in the open door, one hand obviously having knocked and not been heard. Dressed in a grey suit and blue tie, he was every bit the billionaire they claimed he was.

Anna stumbled to her feet. “Mr Tracy, I am so sorry, I was a thousand miles away. Please do come in.” She waved her hand in the direction of a seat.

His lips curled into the smallest of smiles and she grit her teeth, doing her best not to blush.

...

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #anna kent #nuttys fandomversary

[gumnut-logic]

Number 4000

Just realised that I was at 3,999 posts on my blog, so here is post number 4000 :D

In approximately two and a half years that equates to just over four posts a day. I think that is a fair amount :D

So to celebrate.....hmmm....

Let’s have some Virg :D

Aaaand I should probably have some writing here, too. ::hunts around for some Virg words::

Oooh, from my first post:

Virgil clung to the wall. The world refused to stop spinning. What the hell? The pain in his head. His shoulder was screaming at him.

He wasn’t fit to fly.

He had three rescued persons on board. And he couldn’t fly. He stepped away from the wall and staggered to the pilot’s seat. He could barely stand up.

Sliding in, he scanned the controls. Where were they going?

A sudden image of Scott riding the dish down the mountain…

He slammed the transmission console. “Scott!”

“Virgil!” There was concern in his brother’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“You okay?” His console flickered in and out of focus for a moment.

“Fine. You?”

He swallowed. There was bile in his throat. “Not good.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, before Scott’s controlled voice returned. “Can you fly?”

The world was spinning again.

Then it flickered as Scott’s hologram appeared on the dash. “Oh, god, Virgil.”

“I’m sorr..y.” And the whole world tipped sideways.

-o-o-o-

No-one is losing their dad today

Thank you for following and supporting my blog, you wonderful Thunderfam, you ::hugs you all silly::

Nutty

(wow, I’ve managed to be vaguely consistent for two and a half years, woohoo :D)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #nuttys fandomversary #kinda