So, my brain just reminded me that Jeff, per TAG canon (thx Capt Taylor!), goes to the moon in 2027 to establish a lunar base. In the next 2 years, NASA will be establishing a lunar base with the Artemis program.
JEFF TRACY IS A PART OF THE ARTEMIS PROGRAM!!
This means that right now, he and Lee Taylor are learning from the Integrity crew & training off of what they learned.
i'm new to using tumblr so i don't know how tags work lol but here's my contribution to the thunderbirds fandom :D
the 5 thunderbirds made of felt then i just stuck some magnets on the back. they're based off the '65 versions but there isn't much difference besides TB5 >> ( #°)3
My bff Gordon it's been 4ever since I last drew youđ Srs Gordon art this time bc he can't always be smiling (can u guess what ep this scene is from đ€Ș)
Jeff is still trying to help around Tracy Island. Have pity for the boys. (I promise I am going somewhere with this and we will get past scene setting soon!)
Chapter 1
AO3 link
Jeff had buzzed around the villa for a bit, before he latched upon the idea of checking in on how Virgil was getting on down in the hangars. Sure, he had been shooed out of the hangars earlier, but that had been a few hours ago, there was bound to be something productive he could help with now. Jeff headed off to the lifts with a sense of purpose, (see Ma, he was being good and taking the lift rather than the stairs - resting!)
When Jeff made it to the hangars he could find no sign that Virgil had even been there, everything was stowed away and ready for their next deployment. He distractedly pulled open a few drawers, seeing rows of neatly stashed spanners and wrenches and drill bits. It reminded him of his own fathers workshop, only minus the farmyard and diesel smells that had permeated that space. Engine oil and hot metal were the main points on the scent landscape. After 8 years stuck with his own recycled air, Jeff latched onto every new scent with a delight that bordered on obsession. His mother had had to remind him to stop sniffing the sheets in front of the nursing staff during his early recovery. He complied, but only through extreme will power, of which he seemed to have less and less nowadays.
Jeff spotted a can of oil left out on a workbench, well, he could just put that away. Picking it up he shuffled towards a likely looking storage unit, it was a little heavier than he had expected, but he would manage. He was smugly pleased when upon opening the cupboard he was greeted with rows of similar looking tins and bottles. But he frowned upon finding no obvious gap for this can. After Virgil's meticulous attention to detail with his tools, the contents of this unit seemed cluttered and randomly grouped. Well, he could help with that. Pulling over a raised wheeled dolly, Jeff started shifting the occupants of the shelves onto the flat surface. He was soon engrossed in his new pastime, confident that he was finally doing something useful.
It had taken every atom of Scott's skills in de-escalation to placate Virgil, who was now both annoyed and decaffeinated, a dangerous mix. Scott didnât exactly disagree, at least with the main points, not so much with the coffee puritanism. Scott appreciated good coffee, but in the way of any serviceman, anything better than mess hall coffee counted as gourmet. Telling the difference between the medium dark roast and the medium roast was beyond him. Virgil was right that they needed to find something for their father to do though. Somehow he didnât think jigsaws and sudoku were going to cut it for Dad. He, like generations of Tracy men before him, was constantly moving, constantly doing something. Scott knew his father was just trying to be useful, and that it came from a place of love. And just as soon as Virgil had some medium dark light mid roast coffee in him, Scott was sure Virgil would know that too. It didnât help with what to do right now though.
In search of his emergency stash of untainted coffee onboard Thunderbird Two, Virgil's attention was distracted by a creeping pool of oil snaking its way across the hangar floor, coming from the direction of the workshops. He followed its path with some trepidation, hoping the maintenance bots hadnât slipped a bearing again. Sticking his head cautiously around the workshop door, there was nothing to suggest any sort of drama, robot induced or otherwise. Everything seemed to be as he had left it a few hours earlier. All cupboards safely shut, and tools neatly stowed. The oil cut a line through the room, leading Virgil to the smaller chemical storage cabinet, his heart sinking with every step. He opened the door, the irony of the door squeaking was not lost on Virgil and he let out a wry laugh, even as his eyes beheld the interior.
Every single item had been moved. Where once the pots, cans bottles and containers had been grouped by machine and use, allowing him to keep track of the specific products needed for each individual Thunderbird. Now they appeared to be grouped by size. Where previously full containers were stacked to the rear to allow the already opened ones to be used up first, now they were all mixed together. The only saving grace being that they hadn't received the same unholy condensing treatment as his poor coffee supply.
Then he spotted it, the reason for the oil slick currently decorating his workshop floor. The bottom shelf, which had previously housed items reserved for use on Thunderbird shadow, had been loaded up with the largest oil cans, including the ones Virgil usually kept under the side workbench. The shelf had not been up to the task, and now a full can of Premium German engine oil was lying prone across the bottom of the cupboard, like the heroine of a budget horror movie. Virgil snapped his jaw shut against the sounds of anguish that wanted to escape him. Nope, he couldnât deal with this right now. He raised his hands in defeat, and backed out of the workshop, head turned to avoid making eye contact with the scene of the crime. He needed coffee first, or he might say something regrettable.
Scott had to enlist John's help to find Virgil an hour later. Virgil was passive aggressively cleaning out the contents of the storage cupboards in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two. The air smelled of coffee. However, the fact that the smell came from a large quantity of spilled gritty ground coffee that were stubbornly clinging to the grooves of the metal chequerplate floor, and not from the inside of his brothers oversized travel mug, clued Scott that he should approach with caution. Scott was seriously considering if he would be able to locate one of the caffeine shots stored in the medical bay without being spotted by his brother. He hadnât fully decided on the medical ethicality of applying it directly to said brother, when he was spotted. He reflexively held his hands up in peace.
âHey,â Scott kept his voice low and steady, and moved slowly out of the shadow of the doorway. âSo,â he started cautiously, âIâve had an idea for DadâŠâ Virgil narrowed his eyes, but didnât look like he was going to pull Scott's head off with his bare hands, so that seemed like as good a reception as he was likely to get, current circumstances considered.
I hate how the Thunderbirds (both the original version and the 2015 remake) is so underrated! Theyâre both great shows, yet they receive such little validation!
They also have many hot characters *cough cough* Scott and Virgil *cough cough*
