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Scotty my best bro, in law and fiction xx Happy Birthday Scotty
@womble1 @sailing-on-a-puddle @coco9728 @janetm74 you guys seem really popular in the fandom, could you let people know that I’m alive and kicking (angrily) and making stuff please?
Got no likes for this yesterday and I’m getting sick of having to repost the day after the event 😔😔😔😔😔
(Not crying for attention, just feel alone)
Season 3, Episode 9: Flame Out.
Parts ONE & TWO here
Part 3 (with some comments from me)
Gordon’s smile says ‘My brother is a goof and I adore him!’
Virg I want to squish you 🥰
Gords looking hot 😍
😱 Gordon!
More Screenshots from the episode coming soon
Brother’s Keeper [1/2]
I wanted to write some John and Gordon shenanigans and this happened instead. An episode tag to EOS and SOS Part 2 written over two parts because more than 1k at once is beyond me.
He expects Scott, and apparently so does Alan, skittering away as he does before Three's even cooled down. It had been Scott to insist upon his return, after all, all gritted teeth and clenched jaw and John hadn't wanted to, not in the least, but he knows when he's beaten and he knows when Scott's about to have a stroke. Leaving Eos, whatever she may be, alone had seemed considerably less dangerous, on balance, than refusing a man with Scott's resting blood pressure.
He wishes it was Scott.
The figure behind dad's desk looks oddly out of place. Too bright, maybe. Too small, and yet too much all at once. John remembers, with the awful clarity of all traumatic childhood memories, the moment his mother had tucked his very own baby brother into his arms, how the wires and tubes had curled around his fingers and caught on his sweater. How he'd looked at him with all the sweet minded sincerity of a preschooler and thought What am I supposed to do with you?
Not much has changed.
"Welcome to the consequences of your own actions," Gordon drawls. There's a half eaten celery crunch bar on the desk, damp hand prints on the french polish. "Scott's been called out."
John raises an eyebrow. "And he asked you to debrief me?"
Gordon smiles, tilts his head to one side, then stuffs the rest of the crunch bar in his mouth. "Nah."
A prickle of sweat erupts at the back of John's neck and settles, clammy and unpleasant, under the collar of the suit he's yet to remove. He'd intended to handle Scott then head straight back up. Gordon wrangling, he knows from experience, is another matter.
"Where's Virgil?" he asks, and despite his best efforts he knows his voice isn't as steady as it should be, could be. Gordon just chews. Stares. John shuffles his weight, gravity messing with his balance. Gravity, and maybe, maybe, guilt.
"I'm sorry about Alan."
Gordon doesn't look like their father, not like Virgil does, doesn't fill his spot like Scott, but when he leans back in the chair, arms folded, and says "Alan?" he's every inch their father's son. "You think we're mad over Alan?"
"I shouldn't have put him in danger I --"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dad's chair creaks horribly as Gordon slams it forward. "Forget Alan."
A spluttered "Hey!" from the staircase.
Oh good. An audience.
John backs off, already calculating the required rate of reentry for the space elevator.
"If Scott's out I should get back --"
"Why?"
It's the way he says it that has John pause. Sharp. Bitter in a way that Gordon almost never is, and John knows why. He knows why, just as Gordon knows why he's itching to return to Five. It's just that they don't usually have to say any of it. Not with Scott and Virgil around, anyway. They play their roles so well, smoothing over cracks formed from panic, that seeing those cracks written over Gordon’s face is -- perturbing, to say the least.
John wonders, vaguely, if Gordon ever sees the same stress fissures on him.
"Are you worried?" Gordon asks, utterly unnecessary but then that's always Gordon's way.
"About Scott?" That's not necessary either, because Gordon's already shaking his head before John's finished speaking, already on his feet before John can back away.
"No, Scott knows what he’s doing.” This is only partially true, in John’s experience, but anything else would be an admittance. A weakness. A dent in the armour that Gordon has forgotten to wear.
“Right.” And John’s looking for the exit, but Gordon’s already his side of the desk glaring up at him with an expression of determination that has never, in all their lives together, meant anything other than Gordon Getting His Way. “So you don’t need to go back, do you.”
“I should --”
“For fuck’s sake, John! You could have died!”
“It wasn’t that bad.” But Gordon’s way too close now, far too close to lie to, “It worked out okay.”
“And if it hadn’t?”
“But it did.”
Gordon’s face is all screwed up now, pink and angry looking just like that scrawny little baby had been, and it -- it infuriates him, honestly. Because hasn’t he sat and watched? Hasn't he sat and watched hundreds and hundreds of times and Gordon -- Gordon watches once and he thinks he has the right to --
The air rushes from his lungs as over five and a half feet of solid muscle collides with his solar plexus, gravity and little brother combining to send him flying several steps backwards until he’s caught by the back of a couch. Gordon clings with a fierceness only equalled by the rather colourful language he growls into John’s shoulder and John, John knows what to do with rogue AIs and panicked rescuees, but when faced with the full fury of a Gordon hug he’s left flapping his hands rather uselessly at his brother’s back and looking about frantically for rescue. Alan shrugs at him from the stairs with an expression that says I don’t know what you expected.
Scott, yelling.
Maybe a punch.
A punch would have been quicker.
Possibly more pleasant.
Definitely less constricting.
"I feel like this has been an unnecessarily long hug.”
“Yeah, well. Didn’t know if I was gonna get the chance to again did I?”
John sighs, as best he can with Gordon doing his best boa impression around his ribcage. “It’s a risk we take, Gords, you know that.”
“Yeah, of course I just --” Gordon pulls away, doesn’t quite meet his eyes, something in his expression that John doesn’t know quite how to name. “Wasn’t expecting it to be you with the noble sacrifice act.”
“You have a preference?” He’s trying to make light of it, a bit. And normally -- normally Gordon would be the first one to take the hint, would be right there with him turning it into a joke, just a close-call-cum-classic-story. Gordon would roll his eyes at Scott and distract Virgil and comfort Alan. Gordon wouldn’t look at him like this, like he’s stupid.
“Of course I do, idiot,” he says, all affection but still with that odd look about him, and John -- John who watches and listens and knows, John who never misses a trick, a warning, can’t afford to, never will --
John just laughs, ruffles blond hair and, “All right, All right. I won’t tell Scott.”
Gordon doesn’t laugh. Just looks at him. And something John doesn’t quite understand curls behind his sternum. Just a heavy, sick little thing that doesn’t quite deserve the name dread but doesn’t ever really go away. Just sits. And waits. Nameless and illogical.
It’s two years before it rears its head again, exposes itself for what it is, what it always has been, and by then --
Gordon, you’ve activated your emergency code.
Gordon?
Gordon!
It’s too late.
Daily Dose of Thunderbirds
I guess we all know how the above scene ends. Virg, you’re not even wearing your helmet, for crying out loud!
This one is in honour of TAGRewatch. First eps, Ring of Fire Parts 1 & 2. I actually have already written an episode tag to this ep. In fact, it was the very first fic I wrote in this fandom. Booted my rusty writing muscles on it, so the quality may be dubious :D
So, along with the above screencaps (the top one, I adore :D), here be some fic from July 2018 where we find out the repercussions of Virgil plucking this guy out of the sky like that :D
What can I say? I’m a whumper from way back :D
-o-o-o-
His hand missed.
The roaring wind caught the beleaguered hot air balloon, lifting it up, tossing it sideways, and ripping its tethers from the basket. The basket hung suspended a moment, then flipped, throwing its last passenger into freefall.
His yell was taken by the wind.
“Dad!” The boy beside him struggled and Virgil grabbed him, yanking him back to the safety of his ship’s overhead hatch. Calculations raced through his head. Possibilities.
He stabbed his commlink, yelling over the wind, “Thunderbird Five, I need you now!”
There would be only moments. Lowering the hatch, he threw himself at the controls. The kid was pleading for him to save his father.
“No-one is losing their Dad today!” No-one. John was in his ear. “John, what’s my time window?”
The answer was maybe enough.
He shouted over his shoulder at the kid. “Strap in!” And threw TB2 into a dive. He rode gravity until it wasn’t enough and kicked in the rear thrusters, sending them screaming past the falling man. Virgil brought her to pacing drop beneath him, the VTOL gear halting their descent, but not their fall.
The seconds counted down in his head.
Darting back into the centre of the cockpit, he secured his tether, and with an almighty shove, flung back the overhead hatch.
The ship’s plummet tore him from her confines and within a second he was falling beside the screaming man.
This time, his hand didn’t miss.
“I’ve got you!”
Another second ticked by.
He remotely triggered the VTOL, slowing her fall.
Damn, this was going to hurt.
Read on Ao3
TAG Rewatch - Tunnels of Time
Didn't Mean to Scare You
Summary:
The tunnels might've left something else for Gordon to deal with on his way back to the island.
OooooooooooOOOoooooooooO
He hadn't meant to forget, but in all the drama and twists and turns of the temple, the tiny object had stayed tucked away in the relative safety of his belt. He should've told her, but then, he'd almost told her everything. That moment had left him spinning with regret, his mouth having forgotten how to communicate with his brain.
Penelope had left with Parker after the chauffeur had discovered his keys in his pants pocket, offering some relief to the hectick day. Gordon had been loaded into Thunderbird 2, Scott already taking off for another rescue, and the little thing - a miniscule nuisance - continued to stay quietly in his belt until he found himself scratching at the spot on his neck. The tiny wound caused by an aged dart that shouldn't have been able to penetrate his skin, much less cause the irritation searing up his neck.
"Hey, Virg," Gordon knew waiting until they got home might not be the greatest idea. "I'll be right back. Gotta go check something."
His brother turned to watch him stand with the caution of someone who knew what the blonde had endured. Gordon wanted to brush off the concern, but as he straightened, the cabin swayed - or he did.
(Read on AO3)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Epilogues Chapter 58: Crash Course
Summary:
Alan is enjoying his success on the mission with John, but Brains is struggling to find a solution to help the Mechanic.
Rewatch with Screenshots: S3, E8 - Crash Course.
Otherwise known as - Two idiots endanger themselves and therefore risk the lives of Alan and John who come to rescue them.
Alan - screenshots from TAG Season 3: Night and Day
