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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

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From @katblu42

From @katblu42 to @misstb2

Prompts: Christmas past Christmas cracker jokes Christmas paint job on the ‘birds

I’ll leave it up to you to work out which prompt I concentrated on! I hope I did it justice!!

Notes: I don’t know anything about patchwork quilting, so I hope that part makes sense. Cracker prizes are based on my own winnings as a kid, but I hope in the 2050s or 2060s they won’t be made of flimsy plastic!

The Stories They Hold

Every Christmas Scott insists that he is the one to fetch all the decorations from the storage locker where they spend most of the year tucked away. On the rare occasions when MAX is unavailable to help transport everything up to the lounge, where Virgil and Brains will inevitably be securing the tree, each box and bag full of fragile cargo is carefully transferred to a cart and wheeled to the elevator.

It’s so different from collecting the boxes from the attic back at the old house, with the winter sunbeams through the slanted windows catching the dust in a golden glow, and the constant reminders to be careful as he passed each container down to waiting hands below. But many of the contents of those boxes have remained the same, even after the passing of many years.

Scott enjoys the holiday traditions that the family has continued to uphold. In fact, if he thinks about it, perhaps he was one of the driving forces behind a few of those traditions. Particularly the insistence that the whole family, Kayo and Brains (and MAX) included, make the effort to decorate the tree and the Villa all together.

Of course, the occasional rescue would dash their plans, but most years they managed to have everyone play a part in placing all the decorations, old and new, where they needed to go. Scott knew each person had their favourite ornaments, and often fond memories to go with them.

His own favourites were the “special” decorations – the commemorative ones that marked milestones. There was one for each of them. For the brothers these were of the “Baby’s First Christmas” variety, with the year of birth etched into the design somewhere, and usually the name of the relevant brother as well. There was an ornament to mark Kayo’s first Christmas with the Tracys, and another for Brains, and even a teeny tiny MAX. Grandma’s milestone decoration was a candle holder designed and made by Grandpa Grant from artfully twisted fencing wire and a few scrap parts into a star-shaped cage that sat on the mantlepiece.

Every year Scott personally hands each of these special ornaments to the relevant member of his family so they can hang them on the tree, or set them in an appropriately prominent place for display.

The baby decoration with his name on it is silver with little blue gems decorating the points of the snowflake design, and a darker blue ribbon looped through the top for hanging. The silver scroll containing the engraved “Scott’s First Christmas 2034” wound between the bottom two points like a flowing ribbon. Scott particularly loved how well it matched with the pair of bells commemorating their parents’ first Christmas as a married couple.

This one is silver with royal blue acrylic glazed embellishments and a pale blue ribbon. The bells dangle and even make the slightest tinkling noise as they do. The only engraving, at the top of the housing for the bells, is the year the marriage took place. Scott can still remember years where his parents had smiled all doe-eyed at each other while hanging it together on a prominent tree branch. And later years where his misty-eyed Dad had hung it solo, a sadder smile on his lips.

***

This year Virgil is finally completing the last in a set he’s been slowly adding to the tree for a number of years. It all started with the scale model of Shadow that had been part of the production process, which inspired him to make tiny model Thunderbirds as tree ornaments. That first year he’d managed to create an even smaller scaled model of Thunderbird S, as well as matching scaled Thunderbird 4, and a Thunderbird 2 model that was technically smaller in scale, but looked comparable in size beside the other two before running out of time to make more. Each of them was as accurate as he could make them, but with a few festive touches added here and there in the extra sparkly paintwork.

Thunderbirds 1 and 3 followed the year after, and he now has a completed FAB 1 on his workbench ready for Lady Penelope and Parker to add to the tree when they arrive at Tracy Island in a few days. But the one that has taken him the longest, and caused the most frustrated cursing is the miniature Thunderbird 5 that has finally come together without any of the tiny appendages breaking.

As he applies the finishing touches to the painted details he finds himself remembering so many long-ago Christmases making decorations with his Mom and brothers. Sometimes it had been paper chains and fold-and-cut snowflakes, other years it was popcorn garlands and shortbread cookies (or gingerbread ones, or sugar cookies) “painted” with coloured Royal Icing.

His head shakes a little at the memory of younger brothers getting frustrated, or losing interest and drifting away from the kitchen table leaving just him and Mom as the last two left finishing the crafting of hand-made ornaments. None of those crafty decorations had survived this long – they were never really meant to. But the drive to make his own Christmas decorations had never left, and he now knew how to make things out of much more permanent materials.

He hadn’t really thought much about it before, but Virgil was sure this little tradition he’d fallen into was only partly due to his generally creative nature and mostly a way of connecting back to those happy memories of crafting and chaos with brothers, and quiet moments with Mom. It didn’t feel like Christmas to him without a festive creative project to work on in weeks leading into the holiday.

The last thing to add to his Five ornament was a tiny little VT signature. It was one of two things that Mom had always insisted on for all the decorations they made, and he could still hear the ghost of her voice whispering, “Always put love into to the making, then sign your name with pride.”

***

John knows this is the right box, knows exactly what he will find under the protective layer of tissue paper, but even so the moment he lays eyes on the Christmas tree skirt the memory hits him and wraps itself around his heart. A vivid memory of Mom kneeling at the base of the tree absently smoothing her hand over the surface of the quilted skirt with a warm but far-away smile on her face.

When he’d asked her what she was thinking about she had beckoned him over to sit beside her. She didn’t speak for a moment, as though she was working out how to explain something a little bit complicated. Eventually she had explained that she was feeling the love in the stitches. He didn’t understand and must have pulled a face that obviously said so, which made her laugh before explaining further.

She pointed out every patchwork star and tree and snowflake in the design as she relayed to him the way her own mother had told her that the beloved Christmas tree skirt was handmade by her grandmother – John’s great grandmother. It had been a gift lovingly sewn and given to her parents “for Lucille’s first Christmas.” And though she couldn’t remember her grandma, she could remember the way her mother had got all misty-eyed explaining how much time and care Grandma had put into making this gift, and how much she adored her baby grand-daughter.

Even at that young age John had been able to see what his Mom meant about the emotion that was contained within this one decoration. A great deal of care had obviously gone into painstakingly sorting all the little pieces and stitching them together so precisely. And it was very evident that the skirt had been lovingly cared for ever since – kept clean and fresh, tiny tears repaired, fastenings re-attached. He saw the beauty in the way the small geometric shapes combined to make the bigger shapes of the overall design, and the way the different patterns and colours in each piece of fabric worked together to blend or contrast with the pieces around them. But the real beauty was in the way looking at it, and touching it could spark memories of people who were now long gone, and connect him somehow with them.

Mom had said her grandma died when she was very young, and her own parents were sadly gone by the time John shared this moment with her, but she said it warmed her heart to know so much of their love remained here in so many ways. Especially at Christmas when we have all these lovely little reminders left they behind.

He knew his brothers may not fully understand it, but John made a point of always dressing the tree with the patchwork skirt each year. Taking his time to check over the fabric, the stitching, the colours and patterns as he did so.

Over the years he had needed to make a few repairs here and there, adding his own love into the stitches. He’d had to learn about the art of quilting, and now had a greater appreciation for the effort and skill that went into finding the right type of fabric, in the right colour, with a suitable pattern, cutting it into the right shape, and with the weave in the right direction, and then keeping the stitches neat and even.

Kneeling at the base of the tree, smoothing his hands over the surface of the skirt he’s just carefully fastened in place, he smiles and wonders if his brothers know about his sewing skills. His stitches lovingly intertwined with those of an ancestor he never got to meet, but whose love is still visible in her handicraft and the fond memories it sparked.

***

Of course, Gordon doesn’t like to confine himself to just one favourite decoration. He has multiple favourites, all with a marine theme, and all handmade. Not by his own hands though. He didn’t think he really had the patience or the knack, but he did appreciate the talents of others. Four of these ornaments are his most favourite of all.

He remembers the annual craft sessions with Mom, but not with exactly the same fondness that Virgil does. One year he had complained about painting pinecones and asked why they couldn’t paint seashells instead. It was suggested that perhaps children who lived closer to the sea might make their Christmas decorations that way, especially in Southern Hemisphere countries where Christmas was celebrated in summer. He was also reminded that in their land-locked state seashells were in short supply and pinecones were easier to get hold of.

Apparently Virgil hadn’t forgotten that little episode, and for their first Christmas on Tracy Island he had gifted Gordon a set of three seashells. Each one sat in the display box “pretty side up” displaying either the soft pastel colouring of the outside, or the pearlescent inside, and had a little hole punched through and a ribbon attached for hanging on the tree. He had loved them immediately, but when he picked up the first one he discovered their true beauty.

The other side of each shell had been painted with the most wonderful tropical landscapes, using a palette of colours based on the natural hues in the shells, and with little festive hints in the tiny details. The delicate little paintings were so exquisite he had not been able to express in words how much he adored his gift. He had simply launched at his big brother and wrapped him in a fierce squid-hug.

These three decorations provided the perfect accompaniment for his fourth most beloved tree ornament – a carved, wooden sea-star. Grandpa Grant had made it for him one Christmas while Gordon had sat watching in stunned fascination.

He knew Grandpa had carved ornaments for each of his brothers, and some to give to friends or to donate to the annual community displays in the town square, but he’d never before seen anyone turn a little block of wood into something new. As he’d sat beside his Grandpa on the porch, a growing pile of wood shavings at their feet, he’d been transfixed by the transformation taking place in those sun-browned, wrinkly hands. That little block of wood became a quite realistic looking creature that would seem totally at home in a little rock pool somewhere.

Gordon loved Grandpa’s sea-star so much he had petitioned for it to be the star that topped the tree several years in a row. He was denied on the grounds that it was too small. That didn’t stop Gordon from making it a tradition to try and get the little carved sea-star as high up on the tree as possible each year, and taking great joy in putting it as high as he could reach.

This year he’d managed to get it almost a full six feet high, and he hadn’t used anything to stand on or increase his reach. That would be cheating.

***

Gordon also had a hand in the creation of Kayo’s most treasured tree ornament. The decoration itself is fairly ordinary – a red keepsake bauble with a pattern of tiny gold stars and trees, and a gold stripe around the middle where the hinge and clasp were hidden. It wasn’t the bauble that she loved, but the little treasures she kept inside. A collection that had been accumulating since the very first Christmas she’d spent with the Tracy family.

Back then she had been a shy, quiet little girl, unused to the noise and bluster of such a large family in the same space all at once. The boys themselves, and their parents and grandparents, had been friendly and welcoming, but they were loud and always moving. Even around the dinner table. So, she had sat quietly throughout the meal, just watching and listening and trying to take it all in.

Then, after the main meal was done but before dessert, the crackers came out. She watched the Tracys pair up and pull at the coloured paper tubes until they came apart with a little bang. Thin paper crowns were placed on the heads of the “winners” of the tiny prizes of dice and moustache combs and hair clips . . . and tiny slips of paper were unfurled.

She hadn’t encountered the tradition of terrible jokes inside Christmas crackers before. As each one was read out the grown-ups mostly groaned, the kids would often giggle, and Kayo had found a smile spreading across her face at the silliness, and the absolute joy around the table.

She’d shared a cracker with her father and won her own crown and a tiny star shaped charm, and had the chance to read out her own mildly amusing joke.

Why has Santa been banned from sooty chimneys? Carbon footprints.

She’d shared another cracker with Gordon and lost, but the joke – read by Virgil because the small print and fancy font were difficult for a six-year-old – made her laugh heartily.

What do you get if Santa forgets to wear his underpants? Saint Knickerless.

A little later that day, when the table was being cleared, Gordon had approached her with a handful of slips of paper.

“Here. So you can always have them to make you smile and laugh.”

She’d been surprised at first, not knowing what else to do but accept the gift and shove them in her pocket. There they had remained until later that night as she was getting ready for bed. Kayo had pulled the half-dozen slips of paper out and did indeed smile at the memory of all the fun, and the kindness behind the giving of the gift. She had kept them ever since, and added her favourite joke from every year.

Her collection now included gems like:

What do you call an old snowman? Water.

Who hides in the bakery at Christmas? A mince spy.

What do you call a penguin in the Sahara Desert? Lost.

What do you get if you put a bell on a skunk? Jingle smells.

How did Darth Vader know what Luke Skywalker got him for Christmas? He felt his presents.

What do you call a polar bear wearing earmuffs? Anything you like. He can’t hear you.

What do you call a snowman with a sixpack? An abdominal snowman.

Why was the snowman looking through the carrots? He was picking his nose.

She hangs her ornament on the tree, not far from Thunderbird Shadow, and reflects on how lucky she is to be part of this family and share in simple joys like bad jokes around the dinner table. She wonders whose terrible Christmas cracker joke will make it into the bauble this year.

***

Alan can remember so many happy moments from Christmases when he was little. All involving his brothers, many with his Dad as well. He remembers some very frustrating moments around the holiday too – not getting the present he had so desperately wanted, or worse still, a brother getting the gift he wanted instead! Not being allowed to open presents before everyone was awake. Toys being damaged or lost before the day had ended . . .

But his strongest early memories of Christmas are of Dad lifting him up to place the star on the top of the tree. Apparently it had been a tradition since Scott was little, but old enough to manage the task. Since then tradition dictated that youngest Tracy able to do so was the one who got to put the star on the tree. The job had been Alan’s since he was three years old and he had no plans to give it up any time soon.

They had been through three or four different stars since then, and for a brief period the tree had been topped by an angel instead, but Alan couldn’t recall why. In any case the decoration for the top of the tree was his favourite, because he had the honour of placing that final piece in place. Plus he liked the teamwork aspect.

Scott had taken over lifting duty around the time Alan was five or six. That was the Christmas before Scott went off to the Academy, and since he had the height and, in their father’s words, the “military bearing” to manage it, as well as the desire to have as many bonding moments with each brother as possible, Dad had relinquished that part of the job to him.

When the family moved to the island things had become a little trickier. Now they had room for a much taller tree, and Alan was getting bigger. Heavier. That first year there had been failed attempts with lifts from both Dad and Scott, while Virgil and John had whispered to each other as they watched the proceedings. Quite obviously a new technique was required – couldn’t get high enough with the traditional lifting method, couldn’t get close enough sitting on shoulders . . .

At Virgil’s suggestion the patriarch and the eldest had finally stepped aside for John to try. There was brief discussion about John having no better (or worse) chance than those who had already tried, because he was much the same height, but Virgil smiled and told them to just wait and see.

John crouched a little and Virgil lifted Alan so he could stand on John’s shoulders and steadied him there as John took firm hold of Alan’s ankles and straightened to his full height. Virgil had then acted as their spotter, standing ready in case of any wobbles. Or worse. But there had been no wobbles. John’s grip had remained firm and Alan had felt on top of the world reaching out to the top of that giant tree to place the glittering star.

This technique should have continued to work just fine, but after the accident there was a mood change. That first Christmas without Dad, Scott had dared to suggest they just use a ladder to reach the top of the tree, but had quickly retracted the suggestion when he’d seen the crestfallen look on Alan’s face.

Gordon had started asking Brains if they could rig some kind of contraption – Mission Impossible style – where Alan could be suspended from the ceiling. But Virgil had other ideas and whispered them in Alan’s ear. It was an interesting plan for Mr Safety-First to have come up with, but Alan was excited to try it, and had full trust in Virgil’s heavy lifting muscles and past gymnast expertise.

The conversation amongst the rest of the family had died down as Alan and Virgil went running up the stairs to the mezzanine level and Scott had asked where they were going. Without a word, they approached the railing as close as they could get to the top of the tree.

Everyone had watched in slightly terrified awe as Virgil hoisted Alan up onto his left shoulder, sitting so Virgil could wrap his left arm firmly around Alan’s legs to hold him in place. Virgil raised his right hand above his head to hold Alan’s right hand, then leaned out over the railing so Alan’s outstretched left hand could snag the top of the tree and secure the star in place.

That manoeuvre only became easier over the next few years as Alan’s height increased, and thinking about it now Alan considers it to be kind of fitting that the brother who’s had the least amount of Christmases as star placer is now the one with the most years as lifting assistant. He knows that Scott, and possibly John would prefer a less risky method of reaching the top of the tree, but they won’t say anything. Virgil’s grip is as firm and dependable as ever, and Alan still feels on top of the world being held aloft to uphold the tradition.

***

For so many years Jeff had not had any reliable way of measuring when Christmas was. He had kept his watch wound, but couldn’t be sure his count of days or months, let alone years was accurate. But even if he had known exactly when each Christmas fell, he would not have felt much like celebrating. The holiday had always been very much a family affair, and alone, so far away from them it could never be a true Christmas without them, whatever the date.

But, out there he had often turned to his memories of past Christmases. The traditions old and new, the treasure and the trash, the tears and tantrums and general chaos, but mostly the love and laughter. His heart had ached for his boys, but the memories kept him going, holding on, fighting to find a way back.

And now here he was sitting contentedly on his recliner in the sunken lounge watching, listening, making the odd suggestion as his nearest and dearest decorated the tree. He laughed at their antics, tried not to chuckle too much at their banter, and felt his heart swell with pride at the way they all worked together.

“Here, Dad.” Scott was beside him, holding out the pair of silver bells and smiling a little uncertainly. “It’s your turn. You should do this one.”

He needed to lean on Scott a little to get out of the chair, but once on his feet he managed the walk to the tree unassisted. Up close he took in the details of many familiar old decorations, all hung and placed just so with great care. His hand was a little shaky reaching out to hang the bells, and he wished he still had Lucy’s hand on his like in those early years.

Stepping back to admire the fully decorated tree, he glanced over to where his mother stood with Kayo and Brains over by the piano, and spotted his father’s wire star. His boys gathered around him, admiring their handiwork, bringing his attention back to the tree and it’s glittering decorations.

If only these old ornaments could talk. Not just trinkets and keepsakes, but ghosts of Christmases past. The memories, the love, the stories they hold . . .

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction

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thunderbirds-showdown · 2 months

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Which Thunderbirds Are Go episode is better?

Vote on which episode you think is better. Episode synopses below the cut.

Colony: Kayo finds Captain Lee Taylor, whom International Rescue need to help a space vehicle, the Helius, transporting colonists to Mars. A proton storm cause a systems malfunction and the ship overshoots Mars and heads straight for the asteroid belt. Thunderbird 3 launches with Alan, Scott and Taylor and a POD to fend off the asteroids. When trying to avoid a large asteroid the Helius is damaged and International Rescue must try and find a way to land the ship on Mars, even though it was only designed to orbit the planet.

Designated Driver: Parker gives Alan driving lessons at the Creighton-Ward Manor in FAB 0 while Lady Penelope has tea with her great aunt Sylvia. Progress is slow until a pair of bumbling intruders attempt to kidnap the ladies. FAB 1 is the only vehicle that can reach them in time. Parker is injured and cannot drive so Alan has to conquer his fear and rescue them.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #tumblr polls #polls showdown #tournament poll #tumblr showdown

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tanushakyrano · 1 year

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febuwhump day 28: 'you're safe now.'

tis march!!!!! happy march!!!!! i finally got this written!!!

I also just wanted to say thank you for all of the amazing comments and reblogs and likes I've received over the challenge. it's been so so wonderful to see the response to each day and know that people are out there enjoying my writing, which just. absolutely amazes me. you guys are all so kind!!!! thank you!!!!!

characters: Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, Alan, Penelope, Kayo, Parker

additional warnings: violence, injury, kidnapping, blood, guns (tranqs)

_______________

“We’ll find him, Scott.”

Scott nodded jerkily, leaning back in his chair and pinching his brow with trembling fingers. “God, I hope we do, Virgil.”

Usually his hands were incredibly steady. The hands of any first responder had to be, with the precision that was so often needed on the job. And Scott wasn’t just any first responder, he was the pilot of Thunderbird One; she was a powerful and temperamental craft, requiring the utmost dexterity of her pilot - and there was no one who could fly her better than him. There was no way he could be as good as he was if his hands turned traitor on him every five seconds.

And yet here he was. Just under seven hours since Alan had gone missing, and in that time his hands had barely stopped shaking - a combination of stress, the back-to-back rescues he'd just been on before it had happened, and the sheer terror that his little brother was somewhere out there, seriously injured or worse. Luckily, a marginally better-rested Virgil was flying, with Gordon as co-pilot, and he was relegated to the passenger seat. Scott laced his fingers together to try and hide the tremor and leant forward in his chair.

"Any new information, John?"

He was grasping at straws, he knew. John would update them immediately if there were any changes to Alan's status at all. Still.

Sure enough, when a miniature hologram of his brother popped up, he was shaking his head. "Kayo and Lady P are scouting out the place right now. They’ll update me soon, but for now we’ve just got to wait.”

Yeah. That was the part Scott struggled with. Waiting.

He sat back and let his head fall back against the headrest.

Alan hadn’t even been on duty. That was the worst part. The kid had just wanted to go out and meet a friend - Conrad, from the space transit terminal incident, who had been given leave for a few weeks and who was apparently now on very good terms with Alan. Scott hadn’t realised that had happened, but the fact that Alan had people he was on good terms with outside their tiny social circle was excellent, and so he’d been happy to let them hang out. They’d decided to meet up in London. The thought of Alan alone halfway across the world had made Scott… unsettled, so Kayo had agreed to stay in the area to keep a discreet eye on the pair of them in addition to Penny, who was also in London for business. It felt distinctly paranoid, having two professional agents essentially babysitting two perfectly capable teenagers, but he’d learned that it was better to be safe than sorry thanks to years of being accosted by the public, being ambushed by paparazzi, and surviving attempted kidnappings. Preparing for the worst was by far the safest option.

When they received a frantic call from Conrad telling them Alan had been dragged off by two burly men in nondescript outfits and balaclavas, his paranoia was affirmed.

Seven hours later and they’d managed to track him to an industrial complex near the south-east coast of the country. Penelope and Parker were first on site - quickly joined by Kayo, who flew ahead from Tracy Island where she’d returned after coming up empty-handed in London. The plan was that he, Virgil and Gordon would join them in infiltrating the building. Strength in numbers and all that.

Also, they'd all outright refused to stand by and do nothing while their baby brother was held captive by some faceless criminal gang.

“Alan’s definitely in the building,” John affirmed, breaking the silence and startling Gordon so much that he had to steady himself against the controls. “There are at least thirteen other life signs - but the good news is we know exactly where they are in relation to Alan, so I’ll be able to guide you on a route that steers as clear of confrontation as possible.”

“Yeah. Great,” Gordon muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. Scott caught the minute tightening of his fist. “You know, I wouldn’t mind the chance to beat some of those fuckers up-”

“That’s the GDF’s job,” Scott reminded him. Gordon huffed. “Look, I’m not saying these guys don’t deserve it, but we’ll call in Colonel Casey, make sure they all wind up in jail for a good while. It isn’t our job to deal out justice.”

“Well, if they end up getting in my way, I’m not exactly gonna sit down with them for a tea party.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Scott sighed. “We’re just avoiding violence for the sake of it. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

He kept quiet about just how much he agreed with Gordon. The thought of anyone laying a finger on their little brother made his blood boil in the most awful way. If they ran into anyone, he wasn’t sure what would stop him from beating the guy to a bloody pulp.

A shift in Two’s engines pulled them out of their conversation. Scott rose from his seat and leant between Virgil and Gordon, looking out of the windscreen at the sprawl of buildings laid out in the distance.

“I’m landing us further away from the building,” Virgil informed him as his hands glossed over the controls, “to make sure we don’t let them know we’re coming. John can fly her closer if needs be.” If something goes wrong.

Scott nodded. "FAB.”

_______________

It was a bit of a trek to the site, silent and as tense as taut guitar strings. Scott and Gordon had been equipped with guns - loaded with tranqs, of course, not bullets, but the thing was weighted and heavy in his hand, threatening to draw him back into long-buried memories of blue uniforms and military cockpits and rocky mountains in Eastern Europe. He focused on planting one foot in front of the other, and choked down the lump that threatened to form in his throat.

Penelope, Parker and Kayo met them where FAB1 and Shadow were parked. Gone were Penelope’s pink heels and Parisian haute couture, replaced with sleek black boots and a streamlined jacket as dark as night. A gun holster decorated her right side, a gleaming knife kept sheathed on her left. Parker was similarly armed. Virgil eyed the weapons warily. Kayo wore her usual teal flightsuit, but her twin stuns crackled and sparked at her wrists.

“Kayo and I will be taking the lead as we head in,” Penelope said briskly. “John will be guiding us from Five. Scott, Gordon, you’ve had military training, so you should know what to expect. Virgil, just try to stay out of trouble and let us handle any… situations that may arise. We’re aiming to get in, attract as little attention as possible, find Alan and get out - preferably without anyone raising the alarm. As far as we can tell, this has nothing to do with the Hood, but these people are still dangerous. Be on your guard. Everyone clear?"

She looked round at the group for confirmation. When they all nodded, she squared her shoulders, pulling the pistol from its holster. “Then the mission is a go.”

Scott took a deep breath, and fell into line behind Virgil.

John must have been working to disable their systems from the inside, because they made it through the outer doors without a hitch. The corridors were long and empty, hollow and cold, decorated only with valves and pipes and wires with faded plastic coverings.They ducked through a door labelled MAINTENANCE a few dozen metres along from the entrance.

The facility was just as sprawling inside as it had appeared from the sky. Scott had a pretty decent sense of direction, but he soon lost track of the lefts and rights they took as they crept from shadow to shadow, staying low and keeping in constant motion. Penelope, Parker and Kayo formed a ruthlessly efficient team. They almost seemed to have some kind of psychic connection, so perfectly in tune they were with each other and their surroundings. Between them and John's whispered instructions, their group managed to steer clear of trouble for an impressive amount of time.

But their luck had to run out at some point. Kayo rounded a corner as John inhaled sharply, the warning on his lips coming too late, and a six-foot-five giant swung a right hook that would have taken her head off if she hadn't leapt backwards and out of range at the last second.

Scott raised his tranq, ready to floor the brute with a dart to the neck, but someone else beat him to it. The classic Parker Haymaker landed solidly, sending the man staggering, and Parker swiftly followed it with a kick that sent him the rest of the way to the ground. Penelope hit him with a tranq of her own for good measure.

Scott knew that their luck had well and truly run out when yet another punch came out of nowhere, rattling his brain inside its skull and blurring his vision.

There was a second goon. Of course there was.

Scott tried to dodge the second blow he knew was coming, but he could barely tell which was was up, let alone which direction an attack would come from. Someone grabbed his arm and yanked him towards them - he had no idea who it was - he tried to shake them off, but their grip was unrelenting. A grunt of pain sounded somewhere to his left. A body hit the floor with a thud.

He blinked the stars from his eyes. Virgil was staring back at him concernedly, gently tilting his head to examine the spot where the guy had clocked him. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine." Scott shook him off, turning to where Gordon was standing over a crumpled figure, chest rising and falling rapidly, tranq in hand. "Thanks for the save," he said quietly.

"Any time." Gordon gripped the tranq tightly. "We should get going again."

Virgil frowned. "Scott needs a minute-"

"Gordon's right," Kayo interrupted. "We need to find Alan and get out as quickly as possible. We're too vulnerable here."

"Fine. But I need to keep an eye on him." Virgil lowered his voice, resting a hand on Scott's arm. "Tell me if you start experiencing any symptoms, okay?"

"Okay," he said, lying through his teeth.

They pressed on.

_________________

Scott was just about ready to punch straight through the walls to reach Alan by the time John told them that they were close. His head was pounding and his stomach was churning, but he focused on the passages in front of him and the cold metal of the gun in his hands. The same-ness of the corridors was starting to drive him a little crazy.

"There's only one guard outside the room Alan's in," John informed them, voice taut with anxiety. "Should be easy enough to take them down."

Kayo and Penelope were at the door in a blink (though time was getting murkier, so in truth it could have just been Scott's mind refusing to process his surroundings), Penelope wrapping the guard in a chokehold and guiding their body to the ground soundlessly. They checked the corridor both ways before beckoning the rest of them forward. Parker remained where he was as a lookout. Penelope crouched down to pick the lock as Scott stumbled to a stop at her side.

"Oh, damn it-" Penelope cursed as the lockpick broke in her hands. The last drop of patience Scott had trickled away.

"Move," he growled, and Penny ducked out of the way as he slammed his body into the door. The hinges groaned, but it didn't give, so he slammed into it again, and again, and on the fourth try the door burst open and he half fell, half ran into the room, not coming to a stop until Alan was in his arms.

"Hey- hey, it's okay. It's okay, Alan. I'm here."

Alan clung to him so tightly that he could barely breathe, but Scott didn't care. The kid was trembling like a leaf and his fingers dug into Scott's back even through the tough fabric of his suit. He carded a steady hand through Alan's hair, sticky in some places with blood, the other wrapped around him. Even though he was almost eighteen, he still seemed so young. Not small, really, but gangly, a tangle of limbs that he had yet to grow into. Not a child any more, and not an adult, but the strange in-between stage that heralded the closing of this chapter of his life and an end of a time that Scott wasn't ready to let go of yet.

"We're getting you out of here, okay? We're going home."

Alan pulled back slightly to look up at him. Blood tracked its way down half of his face from a nasty gash on his temple. Scott cursed every person involved in the stupid operation a thousand times over. Half a syllable stuttered from Alan's lips as he tried to form words.

"Hurts.."

"I know. I know, Allie, I'm sorry." Scott pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so sorry. But you're safe now, I promise. We're going home now."

#thunderbirds are go #cora writes #whump #febuwhump23 #tw injury #tw violence #tw blood #tw kidnapping #scott tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #kayo kyrano #lady penelope #penelope creighton ward #aloysius parker

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edutainer2022 · 21 days

Text

UNREQUITED Ch 7

Co-written with @janetm74

Ch 6

AO3 (1-7)

This installment found a place in the tapestry of a vaster story, thanks to the amazing insight of @janetm74, making the implications so much more exciting to ponder and to explore further!

(Page Six)

Ever since Kat Kavanaugh buried a hatchet and wasn't chasing conspiracy theories about them on Global Holovision anymore, watching the news live was a once in a blue moon activity in Casa Tracy. They followed the major world events through John and Eos (maybe a bit of social media on a relatively quiet morning), and they were likely to be part of those in some capacity at least a third of the times. Sometimes a half.

But it was one of those days. A relative lull in rescues compiled with the exhaustion of the previous fortnight streak of disasters bred mildly numb boredom. Batteries too low to pursue their usual hobbies, they gravitated to the lounge.

Scott was ever at the desk with holo screens full of quarterly budget reports, because their biggest brother did stock market numbers for LEISURE, apparently. Virgil was playing, as usual, but the music was slowly fading to a halt. Alan was gaming, or pretending to be while napping, his VR goggles on. Kayo was going through some specs, half leaning on the couch cushions. Even John was in a quiet lull up in orbit, his hologram just bobbing at the comms unit, hanging out with everybody, but not really a part of any conversation.

That left Gordon scralling lazily through newsreels. The sudden yelp sent Alan tumbling on the floor and Scott at least half an inch closer to a cardiac arrest under thirty. A keen observer would have noticed Kayo reaching for a knife in the ankle holster. The piano music keened on an abrupt note and stopped. Several pairs of VERY unamused eyes stared Gordon down.

The Fish was on his feet already, bursting with excitement, sending the news holo to the center of the lounge.

"Did you guys know Fischler has a brother?!?!"

The assorted grumps and groans across the lounge indicated that they not only didn't know, but weren't in the least thrilled by that information.

Only John and Kayo shared a quiet look, because OF COURSE they would know.

Gordon surveyed the lounge in triumph, setting the stage for a punchline.

"He has a brother and he's getting married!"

"Who, Fischler?"

Alan was still scrambling up from his hardwood landing and making a show of rubbing an ouchie. Scott at least looked ready to switch gears to the full "hurt brother!" mode. Gordon was not deterred.

"No, dummy, not Fischer! His brother is getting married!"

"And that's any of our business how?"

Alan was still not ready to relinquish attention from his boo-boo. Not with so many big brothers in attendance. But John, Kayo and Virgil were already sharing concerned LOOKS.

Any widely publicized event with cameras rolling and hundreds in attendance, involving Fischler, could potentially turn into a showcase of his latest "invention", or ten. Which would mean potential casualties and work for IR. They would need to be on the look-out and on standby. Scott waved at the comm to get the volume up.

The holo displayed a close pic of a younger and significantly more polished version of Langstrom Fischler, hair sleecked back, but a weaselly smile just a tad on the manic side.

The celebrity news anchor was gushing about a "dashing fresh face on the World Senate, a philanthropist and patron of innovation, a devoted brother and a consummate athlete, setting off to be a force of a positive change in the world" and "his drop dead gorgeous fiancée, a once Miss Brazil runner-up, who dedicated herself to the selfless life of service, decorated for honor and courage".

The picture on the screen changed to an official GDF snapshot of a tall young brunette in dress blues. The insignia on the collar indicated the rank of Captain and breastplanks - several high ranking awards for valor. The picture switched to a series of candid paparazzi snaps of the "happy couple".

The show host droned on with one corny cliche after another about the "match made of dreams" and a " high profile dream wedding" scheduled to take place on a cozy remote island.

Gordon interrupted the stream of saccharine platitudes:

"Huh? How come we're not invited? Scott, you know like everyone in the World Senate!"

His voice was drowned out by the deafening snap of the metal stylus, broken in Scott's fingers. The sound of the desk chair hitting the floor, as Scott stood up and all but ran from the lounge, was even louder.

"Huh?!"

Gordon, yet again, surmised the bewilderment of everyone present.

Jade eyes squinted a fraction as Kayo watched Scott's outburst and hasty retreat.

Virgil was half out to follow Scott, when a ping came through on Gordon's comm. The sign flashed pink.

"Yay! Looks like I'm going after all! Penny needs a plus one! John, can I borrow your tax?!"

John half waved his brother off, brows furrowed and hands already flying over invisible files, when another pink ping came through. It was Kayo's turn for a "Huh?" moment.

"Looks like Penny needs a plus two, as well. I'm invited".

That deflated Gordon's initial excitement enough to notice Virgil leaving in the general direction of Dad's office, where Scott had locked himself.

Before Virgil reached the door to try and reason with big brother to talk about... whatever that was, John sent two files to his comm.

One - a picture they all saw a hundred times on Dad's desk back in Kansas, but it didn't compute out of context. Scott's Airgroup Wing after a training flight. All hugging and laughing, still in flightsuits. Scott and the girl from the news today - Fischler Jr.'s fiancée - at the center.

The other Virgil never saw before. It would figure since it was a screenshot from, what he recognized with some dread, was Dad's old phone. There was a picture sent to a private chat with Dad of the same girl, in a sundress, and Scott in a polo shirt, apparently both on leave. An almost ten years younger Scott was smiling like he could power up a sun. The message to Dad read "SHE SAID YES!!!".

The date of the message indicated about a month and a half before Scott's mission to Bereznik.

Virgil sank to the floor, leaning on the wall, never going through with the knock on the locked office door.

***

It was such an unbelievable cliché it felt surreal. The thunderstorm, the lightning, the lash of downpour across his face. Then again, it was fitting, as his world was going crashing down around him. Yet again.

There was nothing surreal about the hard edges of Mom's ring she just gave him back.

For about six weeks he was the happiest man alive. Dad's IR project was well underway, and he was to share that dream not only with Dad and brothers, but with the love of his life. He should have known better...

The words were real too - hard and ruthless. About Dad yanking his leash, and expecting nothing but dutiful following in his footsteps and his vision, concealed by his looming shadow, and giving up what they both dreamed about and worked so hard for - test flights, command ranks, career in service.

The echo came back to him often, in one dark hour or another, after his world shattered to pieces yet another time.

Dad voiced his reservations clearly, but did agree to give him Mom's ring. "When you know, you know". Wasn't it how he and Mom got married?

It WAS too soon, they WERE too young, and frateenization within a unit WAS an issue, but with IR lifting off that wasn't to be a problem, once he told her the full scale of the classified project. He should have known better...

He last remembered the ring yanked off his neck with the dogtags chain by a smirking Berezniki guard.

He put up a hell of a fight for that and was beaten within an inch of his life. The first time.

Next time he found it, inexplicably, in Dad's safe on the island, after the search for Zero-X was called off. He meant to ask Kyrano, as he wasn't conscious or coherent enough for the extraction op, or for months after, but the man never returned his calls anymore, sending in a resignation after half a year of following leads on the Hood.

There wasn't much room in his mind or hours in his days to give it more thought for years after. Or more pieces for his heart to break into. He should have known better.

And now she was getting married. To someone bright and promising, changing the world for the better, who wasn't him. The story of his life!

He should have known better as well.

The sound of glass shattering against the wall and a visceral scream finally sent Virgil in, wild-eyed, breaking past the lock.

***

John lifted an eyebrow in a perfect quizzical arch, putting the tablet down, as the "wedding party" poured, or rather, limped into the lounge.

Gordon's tuxedo sleeve was torn clear off, his bowtie, undone, served as a makeshift tourniquet. Parker sported cuts, bruises and a glorious shiner. Penelope's elaborate updo was in disarray, one heel of a golden pump broken. Kayo's slip dress hem was torn, exposing a garter holster.

As John hurried to the kitchen for the first aid kit, he heard her hiss something to the effect of "You should have seen the other guys".

The villa was quiet. Grandma had Alan on the mainland for the weekend. Virgil chased Scott up the volcano. There was a good chance biggest brother and his stormy mood was best quarantined at the Round House for the rest of the day.

John was waiting in the lounge for the fallout, one way or another. He wasn't quite prepared for the sight on display, handing out ice packs.

Gordon hissed too and bit off a curse, as John set about cleaning the bullet graze on his arm.

"Pen, do all your friends whip out a standard issue gun at the altar and read the groom Miranda rights instead of vows?"

Lady Penelope was busy trying to look poised while breaking the second heel off a designer pump, to make them even.

"It was a deep undercover mission to round up a drug and slave trafficking ring. A destination wedding was a most fortunate venue for the occasion."

Kayo looked up from the kitchen isle at that, not pausing to stop extracting a considerable arsenal of throw-knives from her bodice.

"Looks like the Fischler brothers were bankrolled by mafia. The crazy inventions AND the World Senate election. In exchange for some... perks."

Kayo snorted and went back to her inventory of weapons.

Gordon perked up as the anesthetic cream kicked in and forgot to NOT wave the injured hand around to assist his narrative.

"It was actually kinda cool! The bride barked out "Hands up!" instead of "I do"! The bridesmaids all dropped their bouquets and brandished guns. The bridal party were all Organized Crime and Counterterrorism. Well, and us... A little heads up wouldn't have hurt, Penny. Then all hell broke loose. Rose petals and confetti everywhere. You should have seen Fischler's face!"

Gordon was nearly flailing with excitement, so John's hands pushed him mildly back into the seat. Turquoise eyes found Penelope's line of sight, studiously avoiding Kayo:

"So... no wedding?"

"No wedding indeed."

Up on the Tracy Volcano Virgil's comm vibrated, switched to silent mode hours ago. John's message read "No wedding."

Virgil exhaled a sigh, but didn't yet know how to break the subject with a brother, seated next to him on the sun-warmed boulder, overlooking the ocean. Blue eyes were fixed on a point far away in the distance, or maybe far away in the past, Scott still wouldn't talk about.

#thunderbirds are go #pairing: scott/kayo #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #kayo kyrano #scott tracy/original character #that didn't work #scott tracy needs a hug #thunderbirds 2015 #janetm74 #john tracy didn't sign up for this #my fic #methinks i have astronomy

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katiedido2 · 8 months

Text

New Meet Cute Chapter!

At Jeff's urging, Virgil uses some of his vacation time and visits Stephen in Amherst.

I love these two. I hope you enjoy chapter ten!

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #stephen furnier #jeff tracy #kayo kyrano #john tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #meet cute #rare!pair

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katblu42 · 11 months

Text

Jasmine and Jade (fic Reblog for @thunder-pride)

The themes of this wonderful event are not ones that feature in my fics as a general rule - I'm not a shippy writer at all, and the as such the main characters preferences don't factor in to the stories - so I have been at a loss as to how to contribute.

I do have one story that features a couple who could fit today's theme, but they are OCs. From the moment this story began forming in my mind Jasmine and Jade presented themselves as a couple. They have so much backstory that did not fit into the fic, and I was a little shy about spelling out the intricacies of their relationship while I was still so new to the fandom. I hope the love they have for each other is evident anyway.

Originally written for Easter Tag 2021 (prompts from @bonsaiiiiiii) Approx 6435 words, so I have only posted a taste here (link to AO3 at end of post).

Jasmine and Jade

“International Rescue, we have a situation,” John’s holographic figure announced as the last echoes of the alarm died away. Once he was sure he had the full attention of his brothers and sister he filled them in. “An EPIRB device has been activated in a remote section of a national park in Vietnam. Local authorities have requested assistance. The remote location combined with challenging terrain makes access to the area difficult. There is also a weather concern. Heavy rainfall expected to hit the area soon and continue over the next 12 hours will likely cause rock falls and mud slides as well as flooding in the cave systems.”

“How many people are we looking for?” Virgil asked, already on his way to his launch chute.

“The EPIRB device is registered as belonging to a pair of visitors who entered the national park two days ago.” John replied. “This rescue could turn ugly quickly. I suggest you take Alan and Gordon with you on this one. Thunderbird 4 may be required to traverse the river system that runs through the caves and canyons.”

“FAB,” two voices responded as the youngsters raced off to suit up.

“I’ll head out there too,” Scott suggested. “I’ll liaise with the local authorities and park rangers and co-ordinate on site.”

“FAB.”

And with that Kayo was left alone in the sunken lounge to wait and watch as her brothers took off towards Vietnam.

Jasmine was exhausted. The fall had left her battered and bruised, scrapes and scratches all over her hands, knees, forearms and shins from her attempts at grabbing hold of something on the way down.

Initially when they had cut the rope she thought she had a chance of making it to the top without the safety of Jade’s belay. Then she’d heard the gunshot. She hadn’t dared look down to where she could hear Jade yelling for her to get out and get help. But when she’d looked up there was someone waiting for her, a stranger with a vicious grin and a gun.

Fear had frozen her to the spot as she’d tried to figure out whether to go up or attempt to climb back down and help Jade. In the end fate decided for her as her hand had begun to slip on rocks already slick from earlier rain. Her attempt to adjust her hold failed and she slid several feet before hitting a protruding rock. Hard. She’d jarred her right hip but managed to hold fast and catch her breath.

She had caught sight of the canyon floor below her and seen Jade being dragged back toward the cave entrance by two men dressed like Indiana Jones wannabes. She could hear a voice above her but she hadn’t thought he was talking to her – maybe the guys below that had Jade were talking to the guy above through some kind of radio. Jasmine had tried to haul herself into a sitting position on the rock, but her foot had hit loose stones and she’d slipped again, this time bouncing and scraping down the cliff face until reaching the bottom.

“You still alive down there?” a male voice had bellowed from the top of the cliff.

Instinct told Jasmine not to answer. Instead she had taken time to asses her injuries. Nothing broken, so far as she could tell. Her hip was complaining, there were tears in her clothing and blood stains beginning to appear in places, the cuts in her left leg needed dressing, but didn’t look too deep, and her right ankle was tender, but otherwise she considered herself very lucky.

Taking stock of her surroundings she realised she had landed a few metres away from where her original ascent had begun. Jade’s backpack was still lying on the ground next to the severed belay line. When Jasmine attempted to retrieve the backpack another gunshot rang out, and the bullet ricocheted off the rocks a few feet to her left. Looking up she spied the gunman far above her and her heart lurched in fear – for him.

“Get back from the edge!” she yelled up at him. It was mere seconds later that the rock he stood on gave way and he was tumbling down the rockface.

Now she was sitting with her back against rocks, tired and sore, beginning to shiver as the cloud cover increased, trying to keep an unconscious, unknown enemy alive. She had activated the EPIRB alarm from her own pack, and used the medical kit Jade had carried in hers to treat what she could of the man’s injuries as well as the cut on her own leg. She had tried the man’s radio, but it seemed to have been broken in the fall. She had considered leaving him and going after Jade, wondering why the other men had taken her, and what they might be doing to her, but staying put was safer. She just had to trust that someone would come in answer to her beacon in time to find and rescue Jade.

The canyon was rapidly growing dark. A look skyward confirmed the ominous threat presented by the gathering storm clouds. Jasmine could hear the rumble of distant thunder as the rain began to pelt the surrounding rock and the surface of the river that ran through the canyon. This was why she and Jade had given up on their quest for the next clue in the treasure hunt and decided to make their way back out of the canyon. They were right on the edge of the rainy season, and once the rain began it would not take long for the water level in the river to rise. The cave system was known to be prone to flooding. Water would come at you from below, with the river and its network of creeks and streams winding through the various caverns, tunnels and caves, and from above trickling down through cracks, crevices and swallow holes in the rocks and earth overhead. Rock and mudslides in these caverns and caves were common in heavy rain and Jasmine and Jade had stayed as long as they dared before this weather system had arrived.

Despite the cold and the rain and the intense worry about the well-being of her closest friend Jasmine must have fallen asleep. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but now she was struggling to open them. She was aware that the distant and intermittent rumbles of thunder seemed to have become much louder, closer. There was something not quite right about the deep rumbling sound reverberating through the canyon. Between the loud cracking booms that came seconds after lightning the rumbling sound never completely died away, and instead of fading it seemed to be growing consistently louder. It was the oddness of the sound that gave her the mental strength to drag her eyes open. The river had moved closer to her – or rather the water level had risen significantly and she wondered how long she’d been asleep. She could feel the rumble of the thunder now, vibrating through her bones, unceasing and growing in intensity. The realisation that this wasn’t thunder came milliseconds before she saw the flash of blue and silver overhead. Not thunder – a Thunderbird.

Read the rest here

#thunderpride 2023 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #wlw couple #rescue fic

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tsarisfanfiction · 1 year

Note

Hello! For the WIP game, I’m very intrigued by….. well, all the titles, really. But to keep things simple: TAG Mundus Occidit Fratrum Meum and TAG Rarepair

MOFM was already asked about here so I won't repeat myself beyond a warning that it's probably the darkest thing I've ever seriously started to write so watch out for potentially triggering stuff over there.

TAG Rarepair is exactly what it says on the tin. This doc is more notes than actual written snippets of story so far, but I'll talk a little bit about the history of how this came to be, and see where we go from there.

People who were around when I was most active in the TAG fandom will know that I dislike Kayo and I can't stand the Scayo ship at all - which ended up reaching a rather surprising conclusion. I used to write a lot from prompt lists (and I wish I still had the free time to keep writing like that because it was fun and I still have so many yet-unanswered in my inbox), and there was one list in particular that I remember eyeing some of the options in fear - because this was before I'd really made my stance on Scayo, in particular, clear, and one of the potential prompts on the list was very obviously romantic, and I was worried someone would request it with Scott and Kayo.

I worried so much about this, in fact, that I twisted the prompt round and round and round in my head until I realised that if this scenario did occure (it did not, luckily no-one has ever asked me to write Scayo and at this point I will be very surprised if anyone ever does - please don't) I had a crafty little escape plan in place. Namely, I would pair Kayo up with some other character and twist the prompt so that she and Scott are talking about her other half. Obviously, I never needed this escape route, but it was certainly a relief when I found it.

As for who I paired Kayo up with... another Scott ship I hate is Scott/Marion (actually, I'll be honest, there isn't really a Scott ship I like at all, barring Penelope under certain circumstances). Kayo and Marion, meanwhile, seem like the sort of partnership where no-one around them will ever be safe but they'll have the time of their lives, and after a while my random little crackship made as a get out of jail free card started growing on me, so I started wondering if I could actually make a story out of their relationship. Will I ever actually write this? Unlikely, but it ended up being fun to think about.

There's a very small snippet of something written for this, though, at the end of the note-filled doc, so have a couple of paragraphs:

“Kayo,” Scott said, a little wearily, although she could only tell because she’d known him for so long, “this is Lieutenant Marion van Arkle, the GDF’s expert on nuclear power.” He gestured towards the short woman in her radiation-rated GDF uniform. “Lieutenant, this is Kayo Kyrano.” Kayo knew all about Marion van Arkle, of course. She’d never met the woman in person before now, but she’d dug into everything she could find out about her since the uranium mine fiasco not far from Pretoria – just one of many ‘rescues’ that could have been avoided if it wasn’t for her uncle’s greedy plots – where she’d almost killed Scott. Scott had seemed to be content to let bygones be bygones, even going so far as to get the woman a job – not that Kayo could really disapprove of that; if the nuclear expert was under the GDF’s control, she wasn’t being a potential wildcard, and uranium expertise was a dangerous wildcard – but Scott was a hypocrite like that. If it had been any of the rest of them bashed unconscious, trapped under a mech suit, and almost radiation-poisoned to death, Scott would have been the first person in line with the threats. Just look at his strained relationship with the Mechanic. In the absence of Scott’s ire, Kayo had stepped up instead. The woman was still dangerous – while not the threat in Scott’s second encounter with her at Shackleton, her hypocritical nature towards Fuse’s right to be saved hadn’t escaped any of them. Not even Scott, and Kayo knew that was the reason behind his slight weariness in his voice. Now wasn’t strictly speaking the time to assess the woman in person, to match the live thing with the reams of data and holographic images Kayo had amassed of her throughout her life – from a young girl playing in crosscut tunnels to the lieutenant standing before her now – but Kayo’s job was to gather as much information on potential threats as she could. Marion van Arkle was certainly a potential threat.

#amistrio #wip game #wip snippet #thunderbirds are go #kayo kyrano #scott tracy #marion van arkle

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gumnut-logic · 2 months

Note

From the Fanfic Writers Emoji Ask list:😈, pretty please?

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

I used to be a cliffhanger queen :D If you look at Sotto Voce and where each chapter ends, you can see the pattern.

I wouldn't say it was entirely deliberate as fics often write themselves and demand to be cut where they are cut (just look at yesterday's tearjerker, sorry about that).

I won't say I'm not influenced by the writers and readers around me, either consciously or not. I know Scott has been appearing a lot lately in my fics for that exact reason - I'm surrounded by Scotty fans :D But then there was the time I had a few Virgil/Kayo fans egging me on ::eyes you, you know who you are:: 150,000 words later...and that rare pair is not quite so rare anymore.

I think reacting and interacting with readers and writers is a good part of the fun :D The Promotions Coordinator in me really just wants to deliver what peeps want when it intersects with what I want...with extra Virgil on top.

Thank you for asking ::hugs tight::

Nutty

(Mmmm, Virgil ice cream...)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #nutty is nuts

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tagsecretsanta · 1 year

Text

From @gordonthegreatesttracy

From and by @gordonthegreatesttracy for @soniabigcheese

Near miss in midair

Chapter One.

Near miss mid-air – wait – was that Santa Claus or Fischler’s new invention?

Gordon and Alan are bored. It is less than a week until Christmas, and they are the only two home.

Scott and Virgil are over at the mainland, using the quiet time to get in some serious Christmas shopping. Their list covered three sides of A4 paper, and included all the good stuff! Celery crunch bars, chocolate, celery crunch bars, mince pies, celery crunch bars, cake, celery crunch bars, vegan turkey, celery crunch bars, gravy, celery crunch bars, potatoes and celery crunch bars!

Grandma is over in England picking up some vital ingredients for the surprise she has planned, Gordon thought it was best not to ask!

John, Kayo and Brains are all up on thunderbird Five, working on a new system that will automate the calls, and filter them through to different departments, leaving them with the only emergencies that no one else can handle, so that they can all spend Christmas together.

Spending Christmas together is something that they have not managed for years. There is always an emergency. Always a crisis that needs to be sorted out. The one Christmas they spent eating cold turkey sandwiches at the local hospital while Gordon had emergency surgery for a broken leg, is the closest that they have gotten. But this year, Grandma put her foot down. She is adamant that they are going to have a family Christmas!

“What are we going to do?” Alan asks his elder brother. He is sitting on the sofa in Gordon’s room, leaning against the arm, with his legs resting on the cushion in front of him as he looks around the room.

How Gordon can sleep in here is beyond his comprehension! The giant squid headboard that Virgil custom designed for him is terrifying! The room is bright and airy, with a large window overlooking the mountains and ocean. Something Gordon insisted on when they designed the island being an ocean view!

“What time is it?” Gordon asks from his spot, leaning up against the door, his feet are on the rug beside his bed.

Alan looks at the clock on the wall above the bedside cabinet, which is next to an overflowing bin. There are empty sweet packets and rolled up bits of scrap paper all over the floor, from where he has aimed and missed the bin. The only thing that surprises him is Gordon made his bed! Squiddie is sitting on the pillow, his prize possession gets the best spot!

“Quarter past twelve” Alan replies.

“Well, Scott and Virgil aren’t going to be back for ages, so we could always go for a ride” Gordon tells him. there is an evil glint in his eyes, one that Alan has still not learned to spot and then run for cover!

“Ride to where?” He asks.

“Well, it is nearly lunch time, and I could use a pizza. Thunderbird One is unlocked, if Scott wanted us to leave it alone then he would have locked the door!” Gordon replies, jumping to his feet and pulling Alan to his. “Come on, let’s go and get some lunch!”

Alan follows Gordon from the room, running down the stairs as the pair squeeze themselves into Scott’s launch shoot, giggling as they happily break one of Scott’s most important safety rules – only one person in the shoot at a time!

“You do know how to fly this thing right?” Alan asks. He is only just starting to work in the simulators, and has never been allowed to help fly yet. Gordon is so lucky that he was born first! He has at least been allowed to tag along on some rescues. Being thirteen really sucks!

“Of course I do, I have seen Scott do this a million times.” Gordon sounds so confident and arrogant about his own abilities that Alan relaxes in the passenger seat and watches intently as Gordon fires up the engines and initiates the launch sequence.

Alan is impressed as the pair shoot up into the air, leaving the Island in their wake and heading towards the north, away from the mainland where Scott and Virgil are, Gordon’s self-preservation skills have been finely tuned by his nearly eighteen years on earth to not getting caught!

Gordon sets a flight path over to England, thinking he could squeeze in a visit to Lady Penelope while he is off the Island. They co-parent her dog, who he helped rescue from an illegal puppy farm over the summer.

“Right, that is on auto-pilot, now what can we do?” Gordon asks, turning to Alan.

“I dunno, sing Christmas songs” Alan replies with a shrug.

Gordon gives his brother his favourite withered stare, sometimes he swears that they are not related!

“What do you want to do then?” Alan demands.

“We could write our own!” Gordon replies, grabbing a notebook and pen from under the dash, grateful that Scott is always well prepared! The book is full of old shopping lists, and draft mission reports. There is even a page of just doodles, which Gordon tears from the book as evidence that even his eldest brother is sometimes unprofessional, and he can use this as blackmail at a later date!

“What about?” Alan asks.

“John” Gordon replies, chewing the pen lid while he thinks. “Flip the Christmas channel on the radio and we will listen to the songs, see if they are inspirational”

Alan does as he is told, and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer starts to blare out over their music system.

Gordon is thinking out loud. “John… Johnny… Red nosed… No… he doesn’t have a red nose. Hair! Johnny has red hair. I have it. JOHNNY THE RED-HAIRED TRACY!”

Alan laughs. “Okay now what? Give me a second and I will look up the lyrics.”

“You can’t look them up, I haven’t even written the song yet!” Gordon replies rolling his eyes.

“Not to that, to Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” Alan says with a roll of his eyes. “You are so annoying!”

“You need to look the lyrics up?” Gordon asks in shock, he thought everyone knew the words to Rudolph, it is a classic!

Gordon starts to sing. Loudly!

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Had a very shiny nose And if you ever saw it You would even say it glows

All of the other reindeer Used to laugh and call him names They never let poor Rudolph Join in any reindeer games

Then one foggy Christmas Eve Santa came to say "Rudolph, with your nose so bright Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Then how the reindeer loved him As they shouted out with glee "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer You'll go down in history"

“Okay, fine. I get it. Now shut up. You’re hurting my ears! You sing like Sherbet if you accidentally stand on his tail!” Alan tells him.

“Yeah well, you couldn’t carry a tune in a wheelbarrow!” Gordon shoots back. “Now if you are done insulting me little brother, I am going to get back to writing our song.

Gordon is deep in thought, writing and scribbling and counting syllables. “Okay how about this?” he asks.

“Johnny the red-haired Tracy Lives alone in outer space And if you need to call him There will be fear all over your face!”

Alan grins. “That’s a good start. It is true, he is a space hermit, and he is terrifying!”

“What else is there about him?” Gordon asks.

“He is pale, and gets sunburnt easily, can you remember the time we were on vacation, and he forgot the sunscreen. He looked like a lobster for a week! It was hilarious” Alan says.

Gordon does remember that vacation. It was the last one before their father disappeared, and he swallows back a stray tear as he forces his mind back into the present. “Okay, so how about something where we don’t let him out in sunlight. What rhymes with sun?”

“Fun, done, some, stun, pun” Alan replies with a shrug.

“Oh I have it!” Gordon replies.

“Don’t give it to me!” Alan tells him.

Gordon rolls his eyes. “Do you want it or not?”

“Okay fine!” Alan replies.

“All of the other Tracys don’t let him out in sun If his skin gets exposed he goes crispy and that’s not fun”

“That works. But what is going to happen next? Rudolph has to guide Santa’s sleigh using his nose. John can’t do that; he is a Tracy not a reindeer!” Alan says.

“I know he isn’t. So what is he going to do? Go on a rescue? Be rescued. How about he gets kidnapped by the Hood” Gordon asks, throwing ideas around.

“Getting kidnapped would work because we could track him down using his hair as that is bright enough to see from orbit!” Alan replies.

“Okay, so the Hood kidnaps him, and we track him down using his hair. Hair… their… stair… fair… chair… Ooh, chair. How about…”

“Then one foggy afternoon The hood took him away He chained him to a wooden chair We tracked him down by his bright red hair”

“Perfect! Now what? Maybe the Hood gets arrested. This time there is no escape, and the man who took away our father gets smacked in the face with the karma stick!” Alan says.

“The hood, he got arrested Now he’s in a prison cell” Gordon sings.

“Johnny the red-haired Tracy We all think you’re really swell” Alan finishes.

“Nah, we need it to be accurate. How about:

“Johnny the red-haired Tracy We all think you really smell” Gordon tries.

“Ever better!” Alan says!

“Now put to all together!” Gordon says, handing Alan a spare lyric sheet and they both sing.

“Johnny the red-haired Tracy Lives alone in outer space And if you need to call him There’ll be fear all over your face

All of the other Tracys don’t let him out in sun If his skin gets exposed he goes crispy and that’s not fun

Then one foggy afternoon The hood took him away He chained him to a wooden chair We tracked him down by his bright red hair

The hood he got arrested Now he’s in a prison cell Johnny the Red-haired Tracy We all think you really smell

WE ALL THINK YOU REALLY SMELL”

“Okay, I take it back. Christmas songs were a great idea!” Gordon concedes, leaning back in his chair, his hands rested behind his head.

The pair are happy and relaxed, and not paying any attention to what is happening outside the confines of Thunderbird One.

They don’t even see it coming until it is too late…

*TB*

Up at the north pole, it is pure chaos, the chaos that Santa has come to love with the last week of Christmas preparation before he can take a nine-month vacation! His workshop is crowded with piles of freshly wrapped gifts and hundreds of elves are running around. The production line starts with elves checking the naughty-nice list, which is on the wall behind them, before handing the assignments to the gift creating department who then pass along the finished presents to the wrapping table before they are added to the sleigh, ready to be delivered. It is chaotic, but it is organised and Santa wouldn’t have it any other way!

He is outside in the stables, grooming the reindeer, feeding them their daily carrot as a treat. They are as vital a piece of his organisation as his elves are, and he loves each and every one of them. Patting Rudolph on the nose, Santa gives him an indulgent smile.

It is almost time for one of his favourite holiday traditions. Taking the sleigh out for a test run, to make sure that everything is in full working order for Christmas Eve. Giving the reindeer one last pat, Santa goes over to the garage at the far side, entering by the door in the stables to where he keeps the sleigh.

Santa rips off the cover, to reveal a bright red sleigh with golden trimmings and purple runners. The seat is fitted with white cushions, and there is storage space for a million gifts in the back. He spends the next hour washing and polishing the sleigh until it looks brand new once more. Even though it is over two thousand years old.

Deciding on Blitzen and Comet for the test run, Santa gets them harnessed to the sleigh. Years ago he needed eight as a minimum to pull the sleigh but he has invested in new technology that has made that redundant and now only two are really needed. He knows that he could speak to international Rescue and get one that can fly without the reindeer, but he could never abandon his friends. Without a sleigh to pull, they would have nothing to do, and with nothing to do they are more trouble than Gordon and Alan Tracy combined!

The two reindeer start to trot from the stable and out onto the snow-covered runway. There is hardly a cloud in the sky, and it is the perfect day for a flight around the globe, Santa thinks as they lift off, heading south down towards Iceland, then towards England and France, gradually picking up speed as he goes, humming the tune for “Santa Claus is coming to town”, the wind rushing through his long white hair and beard, he has never been happier.

He is jolted back to reality when a warning light starts to flash on the dash in front of him, alerting him to the presence of another vehicle up here. Looking around, he spots Thunderbird One a few miles away, and starts to pull the reindeer out of its path.

Thunderbird One also changes its flight path, as whoever it is piloting, is not paying attention to the sky, forcing a second desperate manoeuvre from Santa to stop a mid-air collision, and they plummet towards the earth. He tugs on the reins, but it is too late as the reindeer hit the ground.

Blitzen hits the hard, ice-covered ground first, her front legs slamming into the frost and crumbling underneath her body as she lets out a painful moan.

Comet crashes into her, landing on top of his friend, his hooves ramming into her back before he leaps off and starts to sniff her, tentatively looking for any injuries.

The sleigh crashes loudly into the ground behind the two reindeer, and it tips onto its side, and Santa falls out onto the snowy ground, his head crashing against the hard ground, knocking him unconscious, and leaving him stranded here with no way of letting the workshop know that he needs their help.

*TB*

“What was that?” Alan asks, peering out of the window and seeing the rear of the bright red sleigh sticking up from the ground.

Gordon bites his lip nervously before landing Thunderbird One alongside and letting out a gasp of horror. “Santa?”

They leap down from Thunderbird One without another word and run over to where Santa is lying, slumped over the controls, moaning in pain, as he struggles to sit up.

There is a deep gash across his forehead, and his eyes are glassy and unfocussed as he lifts his fingers to his head and groans. “Wh-what happened?” he asks. “Reindeer. Where are the reindeer?” he starts to remove his safety harness, and struggle free from the wreckage of his sleigh. Alan helps him to his feet, and leads him to the fallen reindeer, where Gordon is running a med scanner across Blitzen’s damaged front legs.

“Now what?” Alan hisses in Gordon’s ear. They are both in so much trouble. Taking Thunderbird One, and now they have ruined Christmas. “Scott is going to kill us”

“No, Scott is going to kill you! He expects this from me” Gordon replies with a shrug. He knows that there is only one way to fix this and it is with a pounding heart he takes his comm device from his pocket and selects Scott’s details from the contact list.

*TB*

“There, I am finished for the day!” Virgil announces, closing up the pantry, which is now fully stocked and ready for Grandma’s prescribed family Christmas, which he has been looking forward too since she made the announcement a few weeks back. He got everything on her requests list, even the dozen bottles of wine!

“Me too!” Scott replies, having stocked up the bathrooms and kitchen with supplies. He is ready to collapse on the sofa and sleep the afternoon away. He even makes it to the lounge, his feet almost leaving the floor for his rest time, when his comm device starts to buzz with an incoming call.

Scott groans, he thought Gordon was up in his room working on his college coursework, that is what he told him to do!

“What is it Gordo, and do NOT ask me to bring you up a snack, I know I ordered you to stay upstairs, but I did say you are allowed snack breaks” Scott replies, not realising that the background is not the pale blue of his brother’s bedroom.

“I need you to do me a favour or two.” Gordon replies, choosing his words carefully.

“I’m listening” Scott replies.

“First off, I need you to promise me that you won’t freak out” Gordon requests.

Scott can feel a facepalm coming on, why does he get this feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that this is going to cost him bail money? “Okay, I promise” he replies, breathing deeply, and closing is eyes.

“I need you and Virgil to come and get Alan and I… And Santa!” he trails off.

“Where from?” Scott asks.

“The south of France” Gordon replies, reeling off their location. “You can use Thunderbird Two”

Scott wants to know why they are in France, but on deeper reflection decides that he is much better off not knowing! “Fine. Give us an hour” Scott replies, hanging up and going to fetch Virgil to rescue his irresponsible, dim-witted siblings from yet another disaster!

They are just jetting off when it suddenly dawns on Scott that Gordon mentioned someone else. He calls Gordon back.

“DID YOU SAY SANTA?!” he yells angrily!

“Erm, yeah” Gordon replies, “he crashed the sleigh, think he has a concussion, and Blitzen has a broken leg.” Skipping over his own roll in this disaster.

“Blitzen? Who is Blitzen?” Scott asks confused.

“One of the reindeer Scott. Can you not remember your history lessons. You know from the book YOU used to read to me and Al on Christmas Eve. The Night before Christmas. That names the reindeer. Seriously Scott I know you are old, but surely your memory isn’t going that fast?” Gordon replies, rolling his eyes and stroking the fallen animals nose with his spare hand.

Scott rolls his eyes, not rising to his brother’s obvious attempt to wind him up! “Whatever, I will see you in a while.” Scott hangs up and turns to Virgil, who is flying at full speed to the North and frowning in deep thought.

“Virg?” he asks.

“Yeah?” Virgil replies.

“When are those two going to grow up?” he asks in exasperation.

Virgil doesn’t have an answer for him. All he knows is that his brothers have been causing chaos since the day they were born! Usually deliberately!

A silence falls upon the pair as they fly up into the chilly winter clad northern hemisphere, landing shortly after next to the crashed sleigh.

Virgil jumps down from the cockpit and races over to Santa, gasping in shock at the scene in front of him.

The sleigh is destroyed. The right-hand runner has been torn away completely and is lying on the floor several feet away, the left is hanging off at an angle. The seat fabric has been ripped in several places and there’s stuffing sticking out. The paint is scratched and the screen with the world map has been smashed into a million pieces.

Alan has helped Santa to sit up, and he is leaning against the leg of Thunderbird One, dazed and confused.

Virgil takes over Alan’s clumsy first aid efforts, and running a concussion test. The frown on his face deepens as Santa can’t recite the months of the year, or tell how many fingers he is holding up.

“Scott, what are we going to do? This is Santa Claus, we can’t take him to a regular hospital, no one will believe us!” Virgil asks his elder brother. “Dad told us years ago when we started training with International Rescue that it was more important to keep his identity secret from the world than it was ours.”

“We will take him back to the Island, he can rest up, Brains can get the sleigh fixed, and we can interrogate the gruesome twosome over there to find out what really happened. Then we can murder them!” Scott replies. “Help me get the mangled sleigh into the module on Two”

Virgil doesn’t question his brother’s orders, heaving the main body of the vehicle up onto his shoulders and dumping it on the floor of the module, while Alan leads Comet into the module, guiding her in with the promise of a carrot for a treat, while Scott helps Gordon with Blitzen, who needs to be carried between the pair, as she can’t walk.

Gordon has not left her side, and he feels terribly guilty over what happened. If only he had been paying attention. This would never have happened.

Scott flies Thunderbird One back to the island alone, as Alan and Gordon take refuge with Virgil, knowing that when it comes to yelling, Virgil is a lot less terrifying!

Grandma is waiting for them when they finally arrive back on the island, and she helps Virgil get Santa and Blitzen up from the hangar and over to the infirmary. Gordon close on their heels, determined to make it up to the stricken reindeer.

*TB*

Scott is pacing in circles in the lounge. Mumbling under his breath. He does not have all of the facts yet, but he is certain that this is all Gordon and Alan’s fault! there are a million questions buzzing around his brain like bees, and he is struggling to piece together exactly what happened out there.

He is still pacing, large circles, his feet grinding into the pattern of the hard wood floor when he is joined by Gordon, Virgil and Alan.

Virgil forces Alan and Gordon to sit on the sofa with a silent glare.

“What were you two knuckleheads doing out there?” Scott asks, finally stopping his manic pacing and sitting on the sofa opposite him.

“Going to England to get pizza and visit Lady Penelope, it wasn’t out fault Santa got in the way” Alan replies, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. Not our faults at all” Gordon confirms nodding. “I was fully in control at all times”

They are lying and all four know it.

“It doesn’t matter what happened, what matters now is what is going to happen next. Here are the facts as I see them.” Scott replies.

He is counting them off on his fingers.

“One. You took Thunderbird One without my permission. Two. You took Thunderbird One in a non-emergency on a joyride without my permission. Three. You took Thunderbird One in a non-emergency on a joyride without my permission and caused a near disaster. Four. You took Thunderbird One in a non-emergency on a joyride without my permission and caused a near disaster and ruining Christmas for millions. Brains has told us he is unsure he can get the sleigh fixed in time. You two are grounded until new year. You are not to leave the villa for any reason. Gordon no pool, Alan no surfing. Now both of you, get out of my sight!” Scott tells them.

Virgil stands up, moving to block their exit. “Scott no! You can’t ground them”

Scott gives Virgil a fierce glare. Virgil chooses now to undermine his authority?! “Why not?” he asks in disgust.

“Well. Surely you can be a little bit more creative than that! Grounding is so unimaginative!” Virgil replies with an evil grin.

Alan looks over at Gordon in surprise, just what does Virgil plan to do to them?

TBC

Chapter 2. Spending time as a volunteer in Santa's workshop. Punishment for being naughty? Any of the villains. Or a good deed. Anyone from International Rescue

“Excuse me?” Scott replies, looking confused.

“You’re excused” Gordon tells him.

“You pipe down. Virgil, explain!” Scott demands.

Gordon rolls his eyes, but doesn’t make any further interruptions.

“Well, you could ground them, but just think you will then have to put up with them complaining that they are bored. All day, every day until you give in and just let them off as you usually do! Or we can give them a punishment that really fits the crime!” Virgil tells him.

“What do you have in mind?” Scott asks, intrigued.

“Send them to the north pole to volunteer in the workshop. That solves two problems. The first one is it will help Santa out while he recovers, as he needs to know that these two dunderheaded fools have not ruined Christmas. Secondly it gets them out of our hair for a few days!” Virgil says. “I can fly them up in Thunderbird Two, leave them with the elves and pick them up when they have worked off their punishment time”

Immediately a million reasons flash before Scott’s eyes as to why this is the worst idea Virgil has ever had! But he can’t deny thinking that the idea of a Gordon and Alan free week is tempting! “Okay. They can go. but they mess this up, then the grounding is back on!” Scott agrees.

“Deal!” Virgil replies.

“Do we get a say in this?” Alan asks.

“No” Scott and Virgil reply in unison.

“Get down to Thunderbird Two, we are leaving in five minutes” Virgil adds, getting him up from the sofa and pulling his two youngest brothers to their feet, and gently guiding them over to the passenger shoot, before Scott has a chance to change his mind.

The flight up to the North Pole only takes an hour and ten minutes, and Virgil lands Thunderbird two on the pathway leading up to the main workshop building, and leaving Gordon and Alan on the path before he flies away, leaving them looking up at the building in awe.

They stand next to a large, overly decorated tree which is three times as tall as they are. There is a giant golden star on top of the tree, and a sign that leads up a snowy path that says Welcome to the North Pole.

Together to twowalk up the path, to a large green and red house with golden trimmings around the windows. The roof is covered in snow, and sitting on the top, next to a smoky chimney is a model of the sleigh they caused to crash just hours before. A sign hanging above the door reads “Santa’s Workshop”

“Look at the snow man!” Alan says in delight, this is definitely the coolest punishment ever! The snowman is wearing a pink had and a stripped scarf, and Alan wants to bring him back to the island!

There is a candy cane knocker on the red door, and Gordon reaches up with his left hand, and raps sharply on the door three times.

The door creaks slowly open, and they step over the threshold and into the warm interior. There is a bright fire burning in the grate and Gordon makes a beeline for it, rubbing his hands together.

“YOU TWO! GET OVER HERE” a voice shouts causing Alan to jump in surprise.

“Mrs Claus?” he asks looking around.

There is a woman standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips looking distinctly unimpressed. She is a clone of her husband minus the beard!

“Follow me” she demands, firmly but not rudely. Gordon shrugs then follows her from the room and down a long corridor where there is a brown door set into the wall, which she opens, revealing a narrow staircase, which leads down to the basement.

Several deep containers are in the room, full of various costume parts, including tights, hats, tops and pointed shoes.

“Get dressed, then meet me upstairs so I can give you your duties” Mrs Claus demands, leaving them to get changed.

Gordon dives in, grabbing everything he needs and pulling on his costume, which to his surprise automatically fits.

“Look at your ears!” Alan says with a giggle.

Gordon runs over to the mirror and sees that his ears are now pointed, just like the other elves. He is going to fit right in, and he loves it!

Once they are both fully dressed, they do as they are told, and go and find Mrs Claus, who organises their official Elf portraits, which come with their official elf names!

“Snowflake Sugar Plum” Gordon announces, looking at the chart. “Cool!”

“What’s mine?” Alan asks, shoving him out the way to get to the chart. “Gingerbread Happy Feet! Could be worse!”

“Look! Our portraits are on the wall!” Gordon says grinning. “This is going to be the most fun week ever!”

“I doubt that boys. Come with me.” Mrs Claus drops Alan off with the wrapping department, before leading Gordon out to the rear of the workshop and to the reindeer stables, where the remaining seven reindeer are residing.

She hands him a shovel, and a wheelbarrow. “Your first job is to clean out all of the stalls, refill the stalls with fresh hay, and the troughs with water. Then you can feed them.” she demands, turning on her heel and marching from the building.

Ten minutes later and Gordon is cursing everyone and everything that he can think of! Reindeer are filthy! He is covered in reindeer dung and he smells awful. The only thing he wants is a hot shower! Or a nice long swim in his pool. The work is exhausting, and his back is aching as he bends down to shovel piles of manure. He wants to collect it all into an envelope and send it directly to Virgil! This was Virgil’s idea, this is all his fault, and when he gets home he is going to prank him so good!

He looks over at Rudolph, who is eyeing him up suspiciously.

“You are lucky you are adorable buddy” he says to the animal, walking over to the stall and scratching his nose.

It is only then that he spots the sign. Sticking up near the entrance to the stable.

“Do not ride the reindeer”

“What do you think Buddy? Want to go for a spin?” Gordon asks the reindeer with a grin. He takes the tack from the nail in the wall. He has ridden a horse before, something his Mom taught him to do before she died, on their ranch house. He has a million memories of long hot summer days riding horses, swimming in the lake and camping under the stars. Surely a reindeer can’t be that much different!

Rudolph paws the ground nervously as Gordon unlatches the stall door and slips in.

“Come on then Rudolph, lets go! urging the reindeer to trot out of the stable and out into the yard. There is a wide grin on his face as he races towards the icicle covered trees of the forest.

Flying a reindeer is even better than flying thunderbird one and Gordon can’t wait to tell Scott that he no longer has the coolest vehicle, as he is going to adopt Rudolph and move him to Tracy Island!

They travel until they come to a clearing deep in the heart of the forest, where he pulls up on the reins, causing the pair to stop, and he slides to the ground and just watches and listens to the dastardly plot as it unfolds before his eyes.

A plot by the man who killed his father.

The reason why he has no parents.

The reason Scott cries alone at night in his room when he doesn’t think that anyone can hear him.

The reason Virgil can’t play his own symphony, the Tracy symphony. The one his father encouraged him to write as he healed from the death of his mother.

The reason John spends so much time in space, hiding away from everything.

The reason he himself swims every chance he gets. The Olympics were their dream, himself and his father. He is going to make him proud.

The reason Alan is forgetting what his own father looked like.

The Hood is sitting on a fallen log in front of a roaring hot fire, next to him are two people Gordon does not recognise. But they are obviously deferring to his authority.

They are going to break into the workshop, take everyone hostage and steal the presents for themselves.

“This is like a bad version of that Dr Suess book; How the Grinch Stole Christmas!” Gordon whispers to Rudolph, who he swears snorts with laughter in response. “At least someone appreciates me! We have to warn the others”

A second snort draws the Hood’s attention to where they are hidden.

“What was that? Havoc, go and check it out” The hood demands, and the smaller of his two companions gets to her feet and charges towards the pair.

Gordon hops back up into the saddle and swings Rudolph around, flying through the trees at full speed, leaping over falling tree branches, aware that he is being pursued and not slowing down, until Rudolph stumbles on a log which has been half buried and is invisible to the naked eye and Gordon flies forward, hurtling towards the ground at breakneck speed, sticking his arms out to stop the fall, his right arm snaps in two as his body weight lands on top of it.

He squeals in pain, but gets back to his feet, gingerly flexing his fingers and to his dismay he can’t even wriggle them. “Great” he thinks in disgust. “Another injury I have to hide from my brothers!”

His quick footed friend did at least help him lose his pursuers.

With Rudolph’s help they make it back to the stables without Havoc catching them up.

Which is where the last part of his luck runs out.

“Where have you been Snowflake?” Mrs Claus asks.

Her nostrils are flaring with anger, her eyebrows are knitted together as her eyes flash darkly. “I came out to check on your progress to find that you have only mucked out half a stall in two hours and that you have taken one of my reindeer and gone on a joyride! I only agreed to this after your brother promised me that you would take this assignment seriously. Get back to work! If I catch you doing something so stupid again, I am going to ship you straight back to the island!”

“Mrs Claus, you have to listen to me. This is not a joke. Someone is out there; they’re going to try to take over the workshop and ruin Christmas. That’s why I left, I had to leave, I had no choice, but you are all in grave danger” Gordon tells her.

“What a load of garbage, you are just trying to get out of being punished, but I am telling you now Snowflake that it is not going to work! Get on with cleaning the stalls, then come and find me. Because I have another task for you.” Mrs Claus replies, leaving him on his own. Mrs Claus has been warned by both Scott and Virgil that Gordon will try any excuse to get out of being punished, and this is a little too far fetched for her liking!

“Now what Rudolph?” he asks, wishing that the reindeer could talk. Because he knows that he would have the best plan, but the reindeer remains stoic and silent. The only thing Gordon can think about is the painful throbbing from his broken wrist, as he sits back against a wooden pillar. He is in way over his head, and he knows it. There is only one solution to this problem.

He has to get help from the three people he can always rely on. He flips his comm device and calls Scott.

*TB*

Alan is having the best time. Okay, so every present he has wrapped looks like it was wrapped by Sherbet. There is more tape than there is paper on most of the gifts, and some of the more awkward shaped ones have bits sticking out. There is a gift of a toy unicorn whose horn has broken through the paper, but he is trying! As Gordon tells him at least once a week he is very trying!

He has been at this for just over two hours and he has wrapped four gifts. Mrs Claus keeps telling him to work harder and faster, but he is doing his best. He has never been very good at wrapping presents, and he wonders why he was given this task and where Gordon has gone.

He is working on a Lego penguin set when the door bangs open and three people come storming into the building, guns firing indiscriminately as he dives for cover, pushing a younger elf behind him to protect him from harm.

Fuse reaches under the table and pulls Alan and the elf out and drags them to their feet, forcing them back against the wall at gunpoint. Silently threatening them into submission.

“You. What’s your name?” Fuse demands.

“Al…Al… Erm… Er I don’t know” Alan replies, unable to think beyond sheer terror as Fuse hits him in the skull with the butt of his rifle, splitting the skin above Alan’s left eye and causing him to whimper in pain.

“This is fun! Want me to hit you again whatever your name is?” Fuse asks in amusement.

“His name is Gingerbread Happy Feet, and he is my friend” the young elf announces, standing in front of Alan to protect him from further harm.

“Oh my, aren’t you a brave little munchkin” Fuse says with a laugh. It is a cruel high-pitched laugh.

“Yes, and you are a mean bully” The elf replies, poking his tongue out at him.

“He isn’t wrong” Alan adds, finding his voice.

While Fuse is arguing with Alan, Havoc has rounded up the remaining Elves, and the Hood is piling in the gifts that they plan to steal into his own vehicle. “Havoc! Fuse! Let’s go” he commands his underlings before they all flee the shop. With nine months’ worth of gifts and toys, leaving the workshop empty and desolate.

“Now what do we do?” Alan says in despair. Santa is injured, the sleigh is ruined and the toys have been stolen by a megalomaniac with zero conscience.

“We do what we do best” A voice calls from the doorway.

“SCOTTY!” Alan yells running over to his older brothers are throwing his arms about Scott’s waist.

“Save the day!”

“Where is Gordon?” Virgil asks, looking around the room expecting to see his brother, a frown creases his brow when he realises that he isn’t here.

“He called us from out in the stables, he is probably still out there. You two go and see Mrs Claus and see what needs to be done while I go and find him” Scott replies.

John and Virgil too are led down to the basement.

“There is no way I am wearing that!” John declares. “I have this thing I like too much to agree to this”

“What is that?” Mrs Claus asks, unimpressed.

“My dignity!” John replies.

“Just get changed both of you!” Mrs Claus has been on this earth for thousands of years and she knows just how to get reluctant elves to work!

Virgil pulls on the striped tights, and top, looking at John with a shrug, silently letting him know that he has one other choice, and that choice is letting the Hood destroy Christmas.

John gives in to Virgil’s silent peer pressure and once he too is fully dressed he follows Virgil back up the stairs.

“Looking good Johnny!” Gordon says, having followed Scott in from the stables, subconsciously holding his rapidly swelling wrist.

“Don’t call me Johnny” John growls at him.

“Okay” Gordon replies in a sing song voice that heightens John’s suspicions. “Hey Gingerbread, you are closest to the generator, what are we going to call John?”

“Speedy… Twinkle Toes! Perfect!” Alan replies.

John looks at him in horror. “You can call me Johnny!”

“Nope, too late Speedy!” Gordon replies. “Now, you need to get your official Elf Portrait taken for the wall of fame.”

Alan leads John and Virgil to the area where the camera is set up, and they are both forced to into elf immortalisation.

“And mine?” Virgil asks with apprehension.

“Tiny Tinsel Pants!” Gordon replies, unable to keep a straight face. He is laughing so hard there are tears streaming down his face.

“No way! I am not answering to that!” Virgil replies.

“Oh stop whinging Tiny!” John tells him.

Virgil doesn’t bother with a reply, as he knows that there is no point, all keeping this conversation going is doing is prolonging his agony!

“What is Scott going to do?” Alan asks, noticing that his eldest brother is still wearing his international rescue uniform.

It is Gordon who answers his question.

“Oh he has the best job! While we were out in the barn, we made a plan. Let the Hood have his toys, we have five days to replace everything, and we are going to work day and night to achieve this, and Scotty Claus is going to be on delivery duty. See he even has his own song. Listen:

You better watch out You better not cry You better not pout I’m telling you why Scotty Claus is coming to town!

He sees you when you’re sleeping He knows if you’re awake And if you say his name out loud He’ll steal your birthday cake!”

Scott glares at Gordon, why his father had to have four more children after he was born he has no idea, but if he were an only child he would not be in this mess! He is sure that Gordon’s song was not a part of their plan!

“Get your outfit on then Scotty Claus” Gordon tells him.

Hanging up on the back of one of the doors is a Santa suit, complete with beard and hat, and Scott knows that he has no choice now, refusing to wear it will give his little brothers pranking ammunition for decades!

The suit, like the elf outfits, magically shrinks to his size, and the soft fleecy lining is warm and comfortable. The beard doesn’t even itch, which is a miracle all on its own and he looks in the mirror and stares at his reflection with pride.

Scotty Claus is indeed coming to town!

Mrs Claus puts Scott in charge of the list, checking gift requests off against the list before giving the toy making department their orders. Which Virgil and Alan take charge of, while Gordon and John are on wrapping the new gifts.

Then the gifts are piled neatly into the newly repaired sleigh, which was flown up to the north pole in the module of Thunderbird two.

Gordon can barely move his arm, and has to use every bit of his ingenuity to wrap the gifts without arousing suspicion, he is just happy that he has not been assigned to work with Virgil as he can sniff out a brother hiding an injury from a hundred metres away! His teeth gritted against the pain as he attaches ribbons and bows to the gifts John wraps.

Hours pass by in minutes, a blur of making and wrapping and more making and more wrapping. There is coffee on demand, and ten-minute breaks on a rotation system, where they power nap under a table with a wrapping paper blanket.

The work is exhausting but rewarding, as the gifts pile up in the sleigh, ready for delivery as the sun finally begins to set on Christmas Eve, and they realise that they have done it. Working around the clock as one seamless team. Gordon is even convinced that his arm doesn’t even hurt that much anymore, not that he can feel anything below his elbow!

“Good work guys” Scott says appreciatively. “Now, you get back to the Island, I will get the gifts delivered, and then I will be back before breakfast for that family Christmas Grandma promised us!”

“While I patch Gordon up” Virgil adds.

“Huh?” Alan asks, looking over at Gordon.

“Yeah, he has been trying to hide what looks like a broken wrist from me for the last four days!” Virgil tells him with an eye roll. “As if he has ever been able to keep anything from me!”

“Gordon?” Scott questions.

“I have no idea what Virgil is talking about” Gordon replies. “You have gifts to deliver, and I have some sleep to get, preferably in my own bed, with Squid so that you can deliver my gifts, as we all know that my name on the naughty list was just a glitch!”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Whatever, just satisfy Virgil’s curiosity.”

Virgil advances on Gordon, and gently pushes him back into his chair. “Raise your right arm” he demands.

“What’s the magic word?” Gordon replies sarcastically.

“Do as you’re told, or I will give you to Grandma for this exam” Virgil replies just as sarcastically.

Gordon offers no further resistance, and Virgil pulls up the sleeve of his top. The swelling is now various shades of purple as the bruising has developed over the last four days.

“How did you do this anyway?” John asks.

“Fell off Rudolph when I went for a ride” Gordon replies.

“Now you know why there is a sign up in the stables advising you not to ride the reindeer!” Mrs Claus tells him. “You should have told me that you had fallen” She brings Virgil a well-stocked first aid kit.

“Why do you think he did it? Because the lure of the forbidden is his favourite bait. If you didn’t want him to ride the reindeer, you should have told him he could!” John tells her with a grin.

“You are officially an even bigger idiot than I thought!” Virgil tells him, as he uses a bandage he found in the first aid kit to strap up Gordon’s wrist. “That will do until I get you home and can x-ray it. Now go and sit in Thunderbird Two and I will join you in a bit. John, Alan you too please.”

“Yes Sir, Tiny Tinsel Pants, Sir” Gordon replies with a mock salute.

“AND DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Virgil yells at his retreating back as he runs from the building laughing.

Thunderbird Two is parked near the tree and Gordon climbs up into the co-pilot’s seat and leans back against the headrest. He is asleep before Virgil gets back.

Virgil wraps him up in a blanket before flying his brothers home, and back to their family Christmas, just as they have had planned for the last twelve months.

*TB*

Scott is having the best time, flying the sleigh with Rudolph’s help is even more fun than flying Thunderbird One! They travel across the globe, starting off in New Zealand, using the map screen and Santa’s time control compass, which allows him to freeze time while he is in the air. The whole world is still and silent, it is only him and his reindeer, working as one seamless team, to save the Christmas that was so nearly destroyed by the Hood.

When is he ever going to learn that he can never win when he is up against the might of Scotty Claus and his team of elves!

Chapter three

Plum pudding… Grandma's secret recipe, delicious or a disaster - you decide.

Grandma Tracy has had the house to herself for most of the week, just herself and Santa, and she has spent her alone time wisely. Cooking up a storm for her perfect family Christmas! There are hundreds of blackened cookies chilling on the side, one vegan turkey which is dried out, burned on the outside and frozen in the middle just the way she likes it!, two large bowls of icing sugar ready for the cookies, one green and one red, and finally about to take centre stage is her pride and joy.

This recipe has been in the family for generations, and she snuck over to the mainland to pick up the ingredients as she wanted to surprise the boys with it. it is a recipe for a plum pudding, and it is going to be perfect!

The recipe is stored in an old book that has been passed down through the women in her family, she had hoped one day to give it to Lucile, but the tragic day which took her life and robbed the boys of their mom and her son off his wife has left scars that have still yet to heal. They probably never will, which is why she is determined to do this right this year.

For once.

“Okay” she says aloud looking at the first instruction. “Stir the flour, spice, suet, breadcrumbs and sugar in a large bowl. Tip in the fruit, peel, cherries and carrot, then stir well to mix. Add the remaining ingredients and beat until thoroughly combined.” That is not too hard, she thinks, taking a swig of the brandy as the list of ingredients did say it was “to feed”!

“Spoon the mixture into a buttered 1.2 litre pudding bowl (with a buttered disc of greaseproof paper in the bottom) and press down well, leaving room for the pudding to rise a little during steaming. Cover with a circle of buttered greaseproof paper, then cover with pudding cloth or foil and tie securely with string.”

Grandma sighs, maybe this isn’t going to be as easy as she thought as that made no sense. Taking another swig of her trusty brandy she tries again.

Grandma uses her favourite wooden spoon, the one she uses to threaten the boys with when they’re getting under her feet in the kitchen, and scoops the mixture into the bowl, not bothering with the greaseproof paper, as she isn’t exactly sure what that is!

“Cover with a circle of buttered greaseproof paper, then cover with pudding cloth or foil and tie securely with string. I wonder if I can substitute that with regular paper?” she thinks out lout before taking another swig of the brandy.

She can’t find any string, so uses an elastic band instead!

“Stand the bowl on an upturned saucer in a saucepan and half fill with boiling water. Cover tightly and steam for 8 hours, topping up the water as necessary. Leave to cool in the pan.”

Grandma takes another swig of brandy as the words starts to blend together, unlike the mixture in the bowl!

“At least now I get to leave it for eight hours!” Grandma thinks as goes up to the lounge and sits down on the sofa with the rest of the bottle of her trusted brandy and sets a timer for eight hours’ time and falls asleep.

It isn’t the alarm which wakes her up but the screeching of a fire alarm coming from the kitchen. The empty bottle crashes to the floor as she rushes across the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen where five-foot-high flames are shooting up into the air from the saucepan.

“NO NO NO NO NO NO!” She cries, grabbing the extinguisher and aiming it at the pan, spraying the foam across the flames until they are extinguished.

“I need another drink!” she declares, grabbing her list of ingredients and starting the process again. This time she is determined to keep an eye on it. Getting her second attempt to the same stage, before sitting down and looking at the rest of the brandy, before pouring herself yet another glass.

The eight hours watching the pan drag, but this time she is determined to not fall asleep! She even remembers the bit about topping it up with water while it gently steams.

It is time for the final step. Step four.

“Remove the pudding from the pan and discard the cloth or foil and paper. Then cover with fresh greaseproof paper and cloth. Store your pudding in a cool, dry place until required - you can feed it with a few tablespoons of brandy once in a while. Before serving, steam again for 2-3 hours.”

To Grandma’s surprise the pudding slides from the pan and onto the waiting plate, she pokes it with the end of the spoon and it jiggles slightly… then collapses into a heap!

“Seriously!” She says to the ruined pudding. “I am sure you will be fine!”

She “feeds” more brandy to the pudding, making sure that she gets equal brandy for herself before she covers it with a tea towel just like the instructions advise and then goes to bed with her brandy!

*TB*

Grandma wakes the following morning, her head feels like someone has been beating her with a sledgehammer, her temples are throbbing and moving from her bed feels like the world’s worst decision.

The roar of an engine over the villa let her know that the boys are home, and she does not want them to see her this hungover!

A quick shower and a pint glass of water do nothing to help, as she gets dressed into a clean bright purple tracksuit, decorating it with some tinsel before going downstairs.

John, Alan, Gordon and Virgil are emerging from the hangars, still dressed in their elf costumes, when she gets down to the lounge.

“Grandma!” The boys call and run over to give her a big Christmas cuddle. They stay huddled up together for nearly five minutes before Virgil pulls away, bringing Gordon with him.

“Grandma, time to switch into medic mode and help me fix Gordon!” He says with a smile.

Grandma knew this family Christmas was too good to be true! “What happened?”

“He fell off a reindeer” John tells her rolling his eyes.

“Why were you riding a reindeer?” Grandma asks.

“Because the sign told me not too” Gordon tells her, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world!

“Why am I not surprised! Come on let’s get you sorted.” Grandma takes him down to the infirmary, where Santa is recovering. He is sitting up in bed, with a thick white bandage wrapped around head, but he is smiling and happy. Watching an old episode of Into the Unknown with Buddy and Ellie.

Gordon jumps up onto the other bed. “Ooh this is a good one! It is the one with the Lochness Monster, they don’t mind him, but I have heard that is because he is super smart!”

“Spoilers Gordon. Do you want to ever get off the naughty list?” Santa replies with a grin.

The x-ray confirms that Gordon has a fractured wrist, which Grandma sets and puts into a bright yellow cast before releasing him from the infirmary so that he can spend Christmas with his family, as Scott has just returned and they all finally all under one roof and even almost in one piece!

“Bye Santa!” Gordon says with a smile.

“Bye Gordon, be good!” Santa tells him with a laugh.

Gordon pretends to think about it for a few seconds before poking his tongue out and replying: “Nah!”

“I tried!” Santa says with a rueful smile before he turns back to the television and a trip to the dessert to find the elusive sand bear.

Gordon wants to tell him that they didn’t find that either, but decides not to ruin a second episode, even though this was one of his favourite episodes!

*TB*

Upstairs Scott is delivering the final gifts from the sleigh. Despite Alan and Gordon topping the naughty list, they seem to have more gifts than anyone else!

Grandma places a bin in the centre of the longue for the wrapping paper, and the boys unwrap their gifts and play wrapping paper basketball.

Gordon loves the shirt he got from Virgil. It is bright pink with an assortment of fish and sea horses and shells. It is the ugliest thing he has ever seen, and he is thrilled! He also gets a new games console from Grandma, the complete works of Buddy and Ellie on DVD from Scott, a book about exploring the depths of the deepest oceans from John and a years supply of celery crunch bars from Scott.

Alan too gets a new games console from Grandma, a slightly less ugly shirt from Virgil with rockets on, a game from Scott and a book about astronomy from John. He opens up his gift from Gordon to find what appears to be something that smells like it died a long time ago!

“Ugh, what is that?!” He asks his brother in disgust.

“Cologne. It is called Eau de Skunk Water. I ordered it from this website called theveryworstthingstobuyyourbrother.com! isn’t it gross?!” Gordon replies. “Open your gifts. I dare you!” He looks at his brothers with an evil grin.

“This is why you are on the naughty list!” Scott tells him, gingerly picking up the gift from Gordon with his name on. He opens it up and reveals a t-shirt. “This isn’t too bad” he says. Then he turns it over and looks at the front. It is covered with a picture of Gordon and the caption on the shirt says: “This is Gordon the Greatest Tracy, my favourite sibling.”

Virg shrugs. “I would wear that!” he says with a smile, opening his own Gordon gift. Which is a bucket with Alan’s face on captioned: Tracy family barf-bucket. “Really?”

“Yeah, I thought that you could put it in Thunderbird Two just in case someone gets air sick on your watch!” Gordon tells him.

Only John is left now. and his gift feels heavy, and he tears of the paper to find a book: Being Gordon Tracy. The full and authorised life story of an Olympic hero turned international rescue operative. “Please don’t tell me you think I am going to read this?” John asks in mock horror.

“Yep, and Scott is going to wear his shirt at dinner!” Gordon replies happily, opening a gift from Lady Penelope to find a large box of chocolates with a smaller wrapped gift inside from Sherbet, which turns out to be more chocolates.

Luckily everyone else got gifts that they actually wanted! Virgil got a book of piano music that he has been asking for from Scott, a drone from John, a new tablet from Grandma and a DVD boxset of his favourite concert from Alan.

John got books. From everyone!

It is nearly lunch time when all the gifts are finally unwrapped, and they slowly move into the kitchen for their traditional burned-out food!

The table has been set with a red and green table cloth. There is a centre piece in the middle, of a miniature Christmas Wreath, complete with pine cones and a large, thick white candle, which Scott lights.

Six places have been set and covered dishes are sitting on the table waiting for them.

Grandma is confused, as she didn’t do any of this. She is so used to eating at the desk, while helping the boys run mission control that she completely forgot that they needed somewhere to eat.

She lifts the lid from the dish nearest to her, and steam starts to rise from a perfectly roasted vegan turkey joint, which is just crispy on the outside and not burned. The other dishes are filled with roast potatoes and vegetables. Peas and carrots and brussels sprouts and broccoli and parsnips and cauliflower. There is a steaming jug of gravy and pots of mint sauce and cranberry sauce. There are vegan pigs in blankets. Several bottles of coke and lemonade are on the table and a bottle of wine for anyone over the age of twenty-one! Even Scott doesn’t think he will be able to eat all this!

But they do! Scott carves up the joint, placing slices on each plate, as they help themselves to vegetables and potatoes. The next few minutes are completely silent as they eat their way though large plates of delicious food. Scott even goes back for a third helping!

Alan lets out a large belch, which breaks the silence as Gordon joins in on the newly created contest.

“Boys, that’s enough!” Grandma tells them before it can get serious.

“Where do you suppose this all came from?” Scott asks once the plates have been cleared away and Grandma is threatening them with dessert, forgetting the final instruction that the plum pudding needs to be steamed for a further two to three hours and just getting it from the pantry where it has been stored overnight.

“Do we have too?” Gordon asks, eyeing up the covered dish in trepidation.

“Yes, I spend two days on this” Grandma tells him, placing it in the middle with a flourish.

She lifts the lid.

Lying on the plate is a perfectly formed plum pudding that is steaming hot.

“That smells amazing” Alan says in awe.

Grandma has absolutely no idea what is happening! This was not the disaster she was planning on serving!

“Hey, look. There is a label!” Gordon calls, reaching over and grabbing it with his good arm and reading it aloud.

“You know, this really has been the best Christmas ever” Alan announces.

“Yeah it has. Can we cause a disaster every year?” Gordon adds.

“NO!” Scott, John, Virgil and Grandma all reply in unison.

Then they all crack up.

Alan laughs so hard he falls from his chair, which causes Gordon to laugh even harder.

It is several minutes before they are able to get their emotions under control, while Grandma serves up the plum pudding with fresh dairy-free cream.

“You know, we really should go and say thank you too Santa” Gordon announces.

They all agree and get up from the table and head down the corridor to the infirmary.

But he has already gone.

Their best Christmas ever is fading into a memory that they will cherish for the rest of their lives.

*TB*

It is New Year’s Eve when John gets the phone call.

“Tell Gordon he is on the naughty list for next year!” is how Santa greets him, not bothering with any pleasantries.

“Do I want to know?” John replies with a facepalm.

“Satan’s workshop!”

John snorts with laughter. “He didn’t?!”

“He did!”

“I will let him know. Happy new Year Santa”

“Happy New Year John!”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #tag team secret santa #tag team secret santa 2022

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