Flying with Scott 24/7

Welcome to the page! Here you will find all the Scott Whump your heart desires along with some other unfortunate brothers thrown in.

[thunderbird-one-ai]

So i thought I'd give this a go since I started writing again!

A kind of similar thing to the wonderful Tsari, Scott will be present in the fics (because who doesn't like multiple brothers getting hurt?)

You choose the prompt and characters and i shall write my best

I've never done something like this before so I'm excited and very nervous ^^"

[angelofbenignmalevolence]

For thunderpride asks: 10 and Havoc + F :) thank youuu!

Thanks for the ask! I'm going to apologize in advance because my ridiculous self can't write a short reply to anything XD XD XD Full answer under the read more because it's a little on the lengthy side.

10) Describe an angsty moment for a favourite queer ship

So this question had me hemming and hawing. But I've decided to go with a ship that I have toyed with in my head but that I have never seen anyone else write (primarily because the characters never interact in the show lol). You're gonna get a little happy story (i'm sorry, I can't help myself and it's gonna be sketchy and unbeta'd) before the angst comes, so bear with me.

So for a little bit of background information, this guy right here:

This gentleman is known by (presumably) his surname. He is only ever referred to as Kinnear. We see him in the episodes Skyhook, Impact, Weather or Not, and Bolt from the Blue. He works for Langstrom Fischler, who we know is a complete and utter idiot. But Kinnear seems smart, working initially as a researcher and later as an engineer. Why would someone with the kind of brain and level head that he seems to have work for someone who has no concept of safety?

Because he doesn't have another option.

Edan Kinnear was happily engaged before everything went sideways. He had met his fiance when he was in college.

He'd just come back from an engineering competition and was riding the high of their team's victory at the competition. The whole team went out for celebratory drinks. Most of the team invited their boyfriends and girlfriends along. Kinnear didn't have one of those, but he was well liked by all of the team and considered a part of the family. They also knew he was horribly shy when it came to the whole dating thing. The whole crowd was loud and rowdy and they all had a few too many drinks. One of his buddies made a bar bet with him, that he had ten minutes to get someone, anyone to buy him a drink, and he would win double if it was accompanied by a kiss.

Kinnear couldn't back out and still keep his head held high. So his shy ass looked around the bar and tried to find the most likely way to win some money. And in the back corner he found someone sitting alone. Not just anyone, though. He found one of the star athletes for their school. Lochlyn Rutherford, if he remembered correctly. One of the handsomest guys in school and one notorious for not entangling himself with romances. He was the only one already separated from the pack though, and Edan needed to not have to shell out the money for a lost bet.

So off to the back corner he went, sitting down at the table across from the athlete, who raised an eyebrow, the only change to his sullen expression.

"Do have a seat, won't you?" he remarked dryly as he took a drink.

"Look, I'm going to cut to the chase. You don't know me-"

"I do, Kinnear." This stopped him in his tracks. Lochlyn Rutherford knew who he was? He shook his head.

"Ok...so...maybe you do know me," he said. "I'm going to cut right to the chase. My buddies at the bar made a bet that I couldn't get someone to buy me a drink in the next ten minutes. If I can't get someone to buy me a drink, I'm out $150 to pay out to all of them."

"And all you need is someone to buy you a drink?" Lochlyn looked skeptical.

"That's all I need. I don't need to go double or nothing," he said. "I just need to not pay $150." He looked over his shoulder slightly to see his entire crew was watching. "Look, if you buy me the drink, I'll give you half the winnings." Lochlyn seemed to consider the offer a moment.

"What's the double or nothing criteria?" he asked. Kinnear's face reddened.

"Er...you'd have to kiss me," Kinnear said. Lochlyn let out a snort but got to his feet.

"What's your drink?" he asked. Kinnear gave a bright smile.

"Whatever the cheapest beer is," he said. He didn't care. He was over the moon that he wasn't going to have to pay up. Lochlyn went over to the bar and grabbed the drinks, setting the beer down in front of Kinnear. He looked up to tell him thank you when he felt Lochlyn's lips against his own, his hand coming down on the chair behind him as he gave Kinnear the soundest kiss he had ever received in his life. When he moved back, Kinnear's eyes were wide and he struggled for a response.

"I like the sound of $150 better than $75."

And that was how Kinnear had met his fiance. They'd graduated and Lochlyn had gone into the military, using his smarts as well as his strength to become one of the best engineers in his unit. They'd been together four years before Lochlyn had proposed. They were engaged another three years before things fell apart.

They told him it had been an accident. That something horrible had happened but, so sorry, military personnel and all. The project was highly classified. Something had gone horribly wrong and Lochlyn wasn't going to be coming home. They told him that his body hadn't been found after the accident. That there would be nothing for him to bury.

Kinnear was devastated. On top of it all, his brother and his wife were involved in a car wreck and neither one had made it out alive. He had lost his fiance, his brother, and his sister in law. He was a grieving man and he was all of a sudden the guardian of his young niece. He had to do something for money. He couldn't let his brother down. So he took the highest paying job he could find that he met the qualifications for: researcher and engineering personnel for Langstrom Fischler, a man who had more money than he knew what to do with.

The money allowed him to live comfortably and to take care of his niece so she wanted for nothing. His holiday bonus even ensured he could give his fiance a nice funeral. Kinnear had been the only person left in Lochlyn's life after he left his family and never looked back. So he had a headstone erected in the cemetery nearest where they had been living together.

Here Lies Lochlyn Rutherford Loving Fiance, A beacon of a brighter future "The Mechanic"

F) At what age do they figure out their identity?

So my thoughts on Havoc's sexuality are colored a little bit by several of the headcanons that concurrently run rampant through my brain. And I think the one I settle on most often for her is a little on the darker side (nothing too dark, but a little on the cynical side).

I think that Havoc figures out her identity long before she finds the words to label it. Havoc comes from want. She wants more than she has. She wants food on her plate, enough to satiate the hunger for more that burns inside of her. She wants her technology, enough for her to ensure no one can take from her what is hers. She wants safety, a safe place to rest her head, to feel protected, to allow her to protect others. These are what Havoc desires above all else.

For her, the sex was always more about what it got her in return: shelter, an advantage, an experience. She never did anything she wasn't comfortable with, and she was strong enough to make sure that anyone that tried anything she didn't want didn't make the mistake of doing it a second time.

She always thought that the fact that she didn't care about what was in someone's pants made her bi- or pan-sexual, and that's what she told people because the reality was a bit more complicated than that. Sexuality is intrinsically connected to the attraction one feels, but for her, sex was never about the attraction. Men, women, non-binary, genderfluid, none of it meant anything to her. She learned from living a life of not enough that sometimes sex, it's just a means to an end. She's never cruel about it, but she isn't one to form attachments like that. Feelings don't come easy for her.

But oh, when she does find those feelings, when she finds a deep connection with someone and learns about every little part of them, the dark secrets and the brightest joys, the sound of their laugh and the taste of their sadness, that's when she blossoms. She finds the attraction that lacked in her previous sexual relationships. She finds the most fragile parts in her person to be the most beautiful and she wants more than anything to be let in to those fragile parts of her partner. She finds her attraction in the deep, emotional connection to her partner. And it's much later, long after she discovers this, that she learns the word "demisexual" and decides this fits her quite nicely.

So the tl;dr is I don't think she figures out her identity until into her late twenties or thirties.

--

Thank you for putting up with this super long reply! Hope this answered your question!

If there are other questions you want to see answered, take a look at the question list linked below and I would love to answer more!

ThunderPride

Happy Pride Month everyone!!! Reblog and share and send everyone questions to celebrate the first event of Thunderpride!! Text version unde

[janetm74fics]

May I request day 25 of febuwhump for Scott please??? Thank you so much in advance❤❤❤

Prisoner/Hostage c2: Questions

@febuwhump day 25.

With big thanks to @the-original-sineater

Chapter 1 | AO3

WARNING: Descriptions of torture

~

There was a sink. A hose. A bucket. And a table.

Despite his efforts it took the five of them no time at all to have him up on the tabletop and tied down securely to each corner. Scott pulled but there was no give at all in any of the restraints.

The officer leaned over him.

‘Now, Captain. Tell me about your base of operations.’

Scott stared at him; teeth clamped shut. The officer smiled in delight.

Scott clenched his teeth as hard as possible, trying hard to keep his mouth shut and moving his face from side to side as much as possible. But it didn’t take long for one of the men to grab his cheeks and squeeze hard. Scott could cope with that though – he was the eldest of five brothers and one sister and he knew how to keep his mouth shut when the sour sweets were handed out.

Which also meant he knew that once the other thug had grabbed his nose and pinched it tight he had no chance. Still, he held his breath for as long as possible (which was a considerable time but not as long as Gordon could) before gasping.

Immediately a rag was shoved in, along with fingers that pushed it down until Scott was gagging.

‘I’ll ask you one more time before we begin. Tell me about your base of operations. How many planes do you have?’

Scott watched the man in charge walk around the table completely before stopping beside his head and bending over to breathe on him. His breath smelt of garlic and sausage and beer. It caused Scott to gag almost as much as the rag had.

The man ran clammy fingers down his cheek and breathed in his ear.

‘Tell me about the special mission you were on when you were shot down.’

Scott stared at him, eyes wide. It wasn’t like he could say anything if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t say anything. Couldn’t. His eyes blazed and his nostrils flared. The man walked back to the end of the table and nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

‘So be it, Captain.’

He gestured at the two men.

The tap squeaked as the handle was turned. Scott could hear the water running up the pipes before it run into the sink and then was stopped by the hose being jammed onto it. A few seconds later water ran into the bucket. He listened to it as it filled up. The tap was turned off. Water ran down the plughole.

One of the men carried the bucket over and placed it beside Scott’s head. He could feel the cold emanating from it. From the corner of his eye he could see drips running down the outside, but Scott resolutely kept his head to the front.

And then he had no choice as one man clamped his hands on either side of Scott’s face and ears and held him still while the other laid a cloth over his face and water was poured over the cloth and over his face.

Water ran down his nose and the back of his throat, soon joined by water from the wet rag in his mouth. Scott choked. And writhed, straining against his bonds as the men laughed and laughed.

But the man in charge just watched.

Eventually the bucket was empty and the rag was pulled from his mouth and his face released. For several seconds that felt like hours all Scott could do was cough and vomit water and bile. Something in his left arm pulled with the effort but eventually he was done.

The man came back around and once more put his mouth to Scott’s ear.

‘Now, Captain Tracy. One more try. Where is the file your Special Forces stole and passed on to your flight?’ ‘Tracy, Scott. Captain. 559016.’ ‘Who was in charge of your mission?’ ‘Tracy, Scott. Captain. 559016.’ ‘Where is the file?’ ‘Tracy, Scott. Captain. 559016.’ ‘Have it your way.’

The man sighed and gestured at the sink.

‘Again.’

And Scott steeled himself.

[knyee]

Scott Tracy & Mark (Battle of the planets/Science Ninja Team Gatchaman)

Kinda went overboard with this doodle sorry 🥸 this is one of the best scott doodles I've done LMFAO OH i hope I didn't mess up Mark 😓

[janetm74fics]

Smokes

@whumppromptoftheday and @edutainer2022

This plays into a head canon I have for Scott…

Warnings for mentions of Canon MCD’s, absent parent, smoking and self-harm in the form of not eating.

~

John could recall the exact moment Scott first picked up a cigarette.

Their parents and grandparents had never smoked - to the best of their knowledge - and school had been full of ‘the horrors of smoking’ during that one semester of health education.

Both of them had paid attention to the dangers and promised each other that they would never smoke.

But that was before Mom and Grandpa had died and Scott and Alan barely survived. That was before the loss of their Father and Grandma too.

14 was too young to find yourself as a single parent juggling four boys and school. And while John thought Scott was coping with things better than Jeff was, it was clearly wearing him down. John tried to help Scott as best as he could, but at 12 that help was limited to cooking and homework. Scott did pretty much everything else.

So when he’d taken a shortcut across the school field and seen Scott with people that were not his usual friends John had made a snap decision and changed direction.

What had shocked John the most was not the unlit cigarette his fingers held. It was that his brother was shaking. Visibly shaking.

Scott hadn’t noticed him, and John had watched as the kid with his brother reached across and lit the cigarette. Scott took a long inhale and immediately began coughing - much to the other kid’s amusement - and John watched as the kid showed Scott how to smoke. His brother took a couple of tries before John arrived at his side.

He had stopped shaking.

When confronted with John Scott had looked guilty and promised he’d only wanted to relax, but John had seen the remarkable change that one cigarette had induced and couldn’t bring himself to tell his brother off.

Scott smoked from that day on, discreetly and without the youngest two finding out, right up until Grandma found out.

John hadn’t been privy to that meeting. Thankfully.

Whether Scott began smoking again when he entered USAF John didn’t know, but what he and Virgil had been surprised - and worried - about was that when he was finally cleared to come home the habit was back.

A smoke was the first thing Scott reached for, fingers still trembling, and he was rarely without one in his hand.

At first it was within the confines of his room at the farmhouse - Dad had converted the dining room into a bedroom so Scott didn’t have to worry about the stairs. He was careful not to smoke when Alan or Gordon were around, enlisting both John and Virgil to open the windows and try and air the room. John knew that Gordon absolutely knew what their big brother was doing, but Alan, only seven, seemed oblivious in the happiness of having his big brother back.

Dad frowned but said nothing, understanding that the smoking was a crutch Scott was leaning heavily on.

No one noticed Scott’s other bad habit, lost in the overtness of the smoking.

Eventually Scott left his room and began to move around the farmhouse and the gardens, never beyond the fence. It didn’t stop the smoking, if anything he seemed to be worse, but for the first time Scott had begun to lift his face to the sky again. With the hope that their brother was at the very least coming to terms with what had happened to him the hope was that he would become less dependent on the cigarettes.

Of course, John, Virgil and Gordon had all returned to their respective colleges and jobs by the time Scott’s second bad habit came to light.

There was a reason Scott smoked ‘like a chimney’ as someone had put it. He’d been using it to replace eating, surviving on coffee and cigarettes until the day his body decreed that it could go no further without sustenance.

John still remembered hearing the panicked voice of his father calling from the hospital. No one had noticed Scott had barely eaten a thing since returning, he’d hidden it well behind baggy clothes and the smoking.

Grandma had taken over his care immediately, once more moving into the farmhouse, and by the time John and Virgil had managed to make it home Scott had stopped smoking and was eating – if only in really small portions at first.

It was not long after this that they moved permanently to the island, Grandma declaring that the change of scenery would help Scott to move on.

And so it seemed.

Right up until the day their Dad died in a fireball right in front of Scott’s eyes.

John wasn’t sure when he’d managed to get hold of cigarettes, but by the time he’d made it home and Virgil had almost broken his door down to get to him Scott had smoked what looked like three packets.

He couldn’t leave Five, needing to run the searches to try and find their Dad, and so this time it fell solely to Virgil. Grandma still lived in the farmhouse with a recouping Gordon and Alan so that he could finish his schooling.

Virgil watched as Scott tore himself apart, taking One out every spare second to search and only coming back to refuel. Hell, Virgil wasn’t any different. Kyrano had disappeared at the same time, using his own contacts to search the world, and Kayo was still at her college in England under Lord Hugh’s watchful eye.

Scott wasn’t the only one not eating. Or sleeping, but at least Virgil tried. But after a week Grandma had called the search off, citing the fact that they were running themselves into the ground.

International Rescue couldn’t function with only two pilots, one of which was still learning, and so Scott shut operations down until such time they had the required five pilots.

Now Scott was head of everything, guardian of his youngest two brothers and he threw himself into the role. Virgil stayed on the island with John to complete his training while Scott moved to the penthouse of Tracy Towers in New York. Grandma moved to the island with Gordon so that he could complete his rehab and begin training. Alan, much to his horror, moved to a boarding school that wasn’t too far for Scott to visit at weekends.

The move to New York did him good, that change once more giving him the impetus – along with more time with Alan – to kick his filthy habit in quick time, and having Alan every weekend kept his eating in order too, allowing John and Virgil to relax.

Now, though, that nasty habit was back.

The signal had given them all hope, rescuing the Mechanic had gone a long way to make that hope a reality, but the constant failures to build the T-Drive had driven Scott over the edge again.

Both John and Virgil were aware that the cigarettes were back. Scott was being more controlled this time, only smoking in his room. John thought that Gordon was probably aware, but as was his habit he was concentrating on Alan.

It took a few days but pretty soon Virgil began to realise that the other bad habit was back too…

He couldn’t remember the last time Scott had sat down for a meal with them, he always had something going on. And the trouble was each excuse was valid.

But then he almost passed out while doing maintenance with Virgil on One. He’d hauled Scott’s ass to the kitchen and made him the most nutrient dense shake he could with what was to hand.

And he watched. And he dithered. Should he tell Grandma?

Usually she was the only one who could get through to him on this subject. And they were running out of time. Brains and the Mechanic were close to solving the issues with the T-Drive.

Virgil didn’t want to be the one to tell Scott that he couldn’t come with them due to his health. But he would if he needed to.

As usual it was Alan who rescued Scott.

It had been an innocent comment on the kid’s part. He’d enveloped Scott into one of his rib-crushing hugs, but then he’d frowned and leaned back to see his brother’s face.

‘Scotty? Why can I feel your bones? You feel worse than John!’

Alan had given him a squeeze and left, unaware of Scott, frozen in place. But it was the opening Virgil had needed.

Weight doesn’t lie, and Virgil hissed at the sight, turning his most powerful weapon on Scott. His disappointment.

They devised an exercise and eating program that would take into consideration if a rescue occurred.

Scott didn’t need reminding how important this was for him – the successful testing of the T-Drive was all the additional motivation he needed.

By the time D-Day had come (Dad-Day) Scott was almost back to his baseline.

[gumnut-logic]

Whump warning!

-o-o-o-

“Why do you do this?”

The voice was familiar, but not. Or rather, it was a familiar voice that was warped by pain, hoarse and hurting.

“Why do you have to push just that little bit more?”

And it was quiet, little more than a whisper in the dark.

Scott shunned it and skittered away. It hurt to hear the hurt in that voice.

“It’s Dad.” The words were barely there and Scott had to strain to hear it. “I know it’s Dad. And sometimes I hate him for it. Because of what he does to you.”

That forced his attention. Hate Dad? How could the voice possibly hate Dad? The voice loved Dad as much as Scott did. So, so much.

“I know you won’t listen. Probably won’t even understand. Deny it if you do.” A sigh. “But you are scaring the shit out of me, Scott. You’re doing all of this for Dad as if he is some goddamned messiah or something. And each time, you’re risking more.” There was a strangled sound. “I’m trying to keep up…god, I am trying…to keep one step ahead of you, but I can only save you so many times and then one day…”

A rustle of fabric.

“Please don’t do this to me.” That was almost a sob and it had Scott clawing at the darkness, desperate to reach his brother and provide the reassurance needed.

But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. His brother needed him, but he couldn’t respond.

The voice stopped after that for a long time. There was sound, but it was just more fabric and muffled breath that was more distress than anything else.

It made Scott struggle harder. What happened? Why couldn’t he move?

What had upset Virgil? Because it was Virgil sitting beside him. Each shaky breath he heard, proved that.

Virgil, please.

“I can’t do this without you, Scott. I don’t want to.” Another wretched breath. “Please…stop. Please.”

Scott realised he had a hand, because suddenly the grip on it was tight. Rough calluses, familiar with warmth, were clinging to him.

He tried to grip in return, but nothing.

What the hell was wrong with him?!

Hair brushed his fingertips. It was soft and slightly damp, a familiar texture lacking the usual hair product. It was enough information for Scott to visualise his brother post-shower, hair drying into the soft curls Virgil hid from the world.

His forehead touched to the back of Scott’s fingers.

Virgil.

Scott realised he must have been injured. Probably a rescue. What rescue was information he could not recall, but the thought did prompt him to locate the rest of his body.

He encountered medicated fog. There was muffled pain in his left leg. Hell, all down his left side.

Virgil was on his right.

Virgil was always on his right.

John on his left.

His younger brothers behind.

He was the eldest. Their leader.

But not right now.

Right now, chances were he was in hospital, injured, and more a source of worry for his family than anything else.

And he still couldn’t move. Couldn’t reach out to his brother to reassure him that everything was going to be okay.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what Dad said or did to you that inspired such loyalty and sacrifice. What set you on this hell-bent mission to be so much like the great Jeff Tracy.” A rough swallow. “He’s Dad, Scott. Our father. He’s not you and you’re not him. You will never be him!” The words were spat out. “I don’t want you to be him! I want you to be you.” An exhaled breath. “I want you to be happy.” An inconsolable sound. “To be safe.”

The fingers wrapped around his twitched a little tighter.

“Mr Tracy!”

Scott startled. But it became immediately obvious that the Tracy being referred to was Virgil as soft shoes hurried over.

“You are not supposed to be up. You put too much weight on that injury and you could do further damage.”

There was a groan from the side of the bed. “I just need to sit with my brother.”

“Your brother is healing and no doubt would not want you injuring yourself further on his behalf.”

“Please…”

The pain in Virgil’s voice had Scott clawing at the darkness.

“Sir, the doctors were adamant, not to mention your grandmother. You are lucky to be alive and they would like to keep you that way. Now back to bed.”

The hands holding Scott’s tightened enough that if it wasn’t for whatever medication was in his system, he’d be feeling that enough to yell. His fingers were rammed up against that forehead again, hair teasing their very tips.

Virgil.

He did his best to return that grip, to let Virgil know he was heard. To reassure a distressed little brother. But nothing…nothing! He wanted to scream. It was his job to look after his brothers and being able to hear but unable to help was the stuff of nightmares.

“Mr Tracy, your brother is very ill, but he is improving. He will get better. Please, look after yourself, if not for you, then for him.”

There was hot breath against the back of Scott’s arm as the smallest of whimpers tickled the hairs on his forearm.

And then his hand was gently placed back on the sheet and let go.

No.

Don’t leave me.

The thought escaped before he could countermand it.

Virgil was obviously injured. The groan at the scrape of a chair and hurried footsteps told him that much. The nurse muttered gentle encouragement as his brother grunted with obvious effort.

A bed creaked.

Virgil was safer in bed.

But Scott was left by himself, unable to move or speak or even open his eyes, and the combination of fear for his brother and fear for himself and the inability to do anything for either of them set his heart racing. Panic began to set in.

“Rest, Mr Tracy. Everything will feel better for sleep.”

Soft footfalls stepped efficiently on linoleum, and came closer to Scott. His heart thudded in his ears.

There was a tug at his left arm and a soft tut-tut from the nurse.

Something cold crawled up his arm and wrapped around his heart and his thoughts, disconnecting them. He lost the feeling in everything and oblivion took him.

-o-o-o-

[bernardisgross]

A6 Cards for my friends i sent around new year ^^ !

(copic sketch, posca, pilot g-tec c4, pencil)

[chenria]

Amazon Prime now has the first season of Thunderbirds are Go and I am rewatching it… it brought up the old idea I had for a Scott x OC fic idea… but I can’t start writing anything new right now… so I just sketched Scott… (or tried to…) 

[womble1]

Ooofph that man’s bone structure

[birdie-puff]

Happy Birthday, Scott! 🎉 🥳 🎂 🎉

This really brings me back! I originally made this in 2021 for @scribeofred’s Tag mini bang story, which I still highly recommend reading. 💕

[knyee]

Doodle Request:

Scott (of course)

That is all.

💙

As u wish

Does any1 recognize where and who i referenced this doodle from

[barrycoganart]

Blasting Off! A simple revisit to an old lino print I did years ago of thunderbird 1 being moved to launch position. This time round I thought I’d do it of Thunderbird 1 just as the engines have ignited about to head out on a new rescue mission. Enjoy!

[hon5-tba]

💗💚Happy Valentine’s day!💛💙

I tried to paint Scott in his special suit. I remember his orange color was quite exciting. The background was made by AI. There’re mixed opinions about AI illustration but I have a feeling that it will be a great tool for me, as I’m not good at drawing backgrounds.

バレンタインには何も関係ないけどS3EP16の特別スーツ仕様のスコットお兄さんです。あのオレンジ色はなかなか衝撃的でしたよね･･･！

背景はAIに作ってもらいました。最近AIイラストについては賛否が騒がれていますが、背景苦手な自分にとっては便利なツールになりそうな予感です。

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Thunderbirds (1965)

[forest-falcon]

Thunderbird One is Go!

[flyboytracy]

the nyoom nyoom sticks make it gogogogooooooOooo

[waty-art-deactivated20250316]

Thunderbirds Are Go!

Scott & Virgil Tracy! The brothers are having a day in the city but someone is interrupting sibling bonding time😂

In other words, Angry Virgil & confused Scott.

[gumnut-logic]

Yay! You drew the Virg! 😁💚💙

I love your use of light in this. And you’ve caught them in movement, giving themso much life.

Beautiful work! Thank you for sharing your talents 😁💚💙

Nutty

(Gorgeous earth and sky)

[gumnut-logic]

“Virgil, put me down!”

“No.”

“Virgil…!”

“You had your chance. You didn’t listen, so we are doing this the hard way.” Virgil prodded the elevator controls with a boot.

“If you don’t put me down-“

“You’ll what? You’re dead on your feet. I’m surprised you’re conscious.”

The elevator doors swished open and his brother strode through, gently angling Scott so he didn’t hit his head.

“C’mon, Virgil, really? I need to finish that report. The board is meeting in the morning.” This was exasperating and not a little annoying.

“I’ll go.”

Scott choked as the elevator doors opened again and Virgil slipped through. His brother’s stride was barely affected by the weight he was carrying.

Struggling with the concept of Virgil in the board room, probably with grease smeared on his nose, kept Scott’s tongue tied the length of the corridor. “You’re kidding.”

Virgil edged him through his bedroom door. The room was dark except for the moonlight shining through the windows. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.”

“Virg, you know what I mean…”

His brother lowered him to the bed while Scott calculated how quickly he could make it out of the room the moment Virgil’s back was turned.

But the medic wasn’t finished. He glared at Scott in the darkness. “I know exactly what you mean. You mean to not only fly with an abdominal injury to a board meeting, but you think that only you can attend that meeting.” Virgil pulled the covers over him and tucked him in.

Scott groaned. “It’s not that-“

“It’s exactly that. You are staying, I’m going. With John.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. I’m not stupid.” His brother sighed. “Now sleep. We’ve got this.”

“Virg-“

A thick finger landed on his lips, startling him into silence. “I said sleep.”

Scott stared up at his brother. The moonlight cast him in worried shadows.

A breath and Scott relented, letting himself relax into the bed. It was a soporific movement, tightly wound muscles ever so happy to loosen, and he found his eyelids drooping suddenly.

That finger lifted and brushed hair off his forehead, but Virgil didn’t say anything further before straightening.

“Sleep.” It was soft…and a command he found he could no longer ignore.

He didn’t hear Virgil leave.

-o-o-o-